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diff --git a/.gitattributes b/.gitattributes new file mode 100644 index 0000000..d7b82bc --- /dev/null +++ b/.gitattributes @@ -0,0 +1,4 @@ +*.txt text eol=lf +*.htm text eol=lf +*.html text eol=lf +*.md text eol=lf diff --git a/LICENSE.txt b/LICENSE.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..6312041 --- /dev/null +++ b/LICENSE.txt @@ -0,0 +1,11 @@ +This eBook, including all associated images, markup, improvements, +metadata, and any other content or labor, has been confirmed to be +in the PUBLIC DOMAIN IN THE UNITED STATES. + +Procedures for determining public domain status are described in +the "Copyright How-To" at https://www.gutenberg.org. + +No investigation has been made concerning possible copyrights in +jurisdictions other than the United States. Anyone seeking to utilize +this eBook outside of the United States should confirm copyright +status under the laws that apply to them. diff --git a/README.md b/README.md new file mode 100644 index 0000000..99058aa --- /dev/null +++ b/README.md @@ -0,0 +1,2 @@ +Project Gutenberg (https://www.gutenberg.org) public repository for +eBook #50462 (https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/50462) diff --git a/old/50462-8.txt b/old/50462-8.txt deleted file mode 100644 index 7b366ec..0000000 --- a/old/50462-8.txt +++ /dev/null @@ -1,18354 +0,0 @@ -Project Gutenberg's Philip Augustus, by George Payne Rainsford James - -This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and most -other parts of the world at no cost and with almost no restrictions -whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms of -the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online at -www.gutenberg.org. If you are not located in the United States, you'll have -to check the laws of the country where you are located before using this ebook. - - - -Title: Philip Augustus - or The Brothers in Arms - -Author: George Payne Rainsford James - -Release Date: November 15, 2015 [EBook #50462] - -Language: English - -Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 - -*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK PHILIP AUGUSTUS *** - - - - -Produced by Charles Bowen from page images provided by Google Books - - - - - - - - - - -Transcriber's Notes: - 1. Page scan source: Google Books - Philip Augustus, or, The brothers in arms - James, G. P. R. (George Payne Rainsford), 1801?-1860 - Published 1837 - Publisher London: R. Bentley; Edinburgh: Bell and Bradfute - Web Archive: https://archive.org/details/philipaugustusor00jame - 2. The diphthong oe is represented by [oe]. - - - - - - - -STANDARD - -NOVELS. - -No. LIX. - - - - -"No kind of literature is so generally attractive as Fiction. Pictures -of life and manners, and Stories of adventure, are more eagerly -received by the many than graver productions, however important these -latter maybe. APULEIUS is better remembered by his fable of Cupid and -Psyche than by his abstruser Platonic writings; and the Decameron of -BOCCACCIO has outlived the Latin Treatises, and other learned works of -that author." - - - ------------------------ - -PHILIP AUGUSTUS. - -COMPLETE IN ONE VOLUME. - ------------------------ - - - - -LONDON: -RICHARD BENTLEY, NEW BURLINGTON STREET; -BELL AND BRADFUTE, EDINBURGH; -J. CUMMING, DUBLIN. -1837. - - - - - - -London: -Printed by A. Spottiswoode, -New-Street-Square. - - - - - - -[Illustration: Philip Augustus] - - -[Illustration: Death of Gallon the Jester] - - - - - - -PHILIP AUGUSTUS; - -OR, - -THE BROTHERS IN ARMS. - - -------------------- -"Uneasy lies the head that wears a crown."--Henry IV. -------------------- - - - -BY THE AUTHOR OF -"DARNLEY," "ATTILA," &c. - - -REVISED, CORRECTED, AND ILLUSTRATED WITH NOTES, ETC. -BY THE AUTHOR. - - - -------------------- - - - -LONDON: -RICHARD BENTLEY, NEW BURLINGTON STREET; -BELL AND BRADFUTE. EDINBURGH; -J. CUMMING, DUBLIN. -1837. - - - - - -TO -ROBERT SOUTHEY, ESQ. LL.D. - - - -MY DEAR SIR, - -Were this book even a great deal better than an author's partiality -for his literary offspring can make me believe, I should still have -some hesitation in dedicating it to you, if the fact of your allowing -me to do so implied any thing but your own kindness of heart. I think -now, on reading it again, as I thought twelve months ago when I wrote -it, that it is the best thing that I have yet composed; but were it a -thousand times better in every respect than any thing I ever have or -ever shall produce, it would still, I am conscious, be very unworthy -of your acceptance, and very inferior to what I could wish to offer. - -Notwithstanding all your present fame, I am convinced that future -years, by adding hourly to the reputation you have already acquired, -will justify my feelings towards your works, and that your writings -will be amongst the few--the very few--which each age in dying -bequeaths to the thousand ages to come. - -However, it is with no view of giving a borrowed lustre to my book -that I distinguish this page by placing in it your name. Regard, -esteem, and admiration, are surely sufficient motives for seeking to -offer you some tribute, and sufficient apology, though that tribute be -very inferior to the wishes of, - - My dear Sir, - Your very faithful Servant, - - G. P. R. JAMES. - -Maxpoffle, near Melrose, Roxburghshire, - May 25, 1831. - - - - - - -ADVERTISEMENT -TO THE -NEW EDITION IN THE STANDARD NOVELS. ---------------- - - -I have little to say regarding this work, which has been received by -the public with so much favour, as to dispense with the necessity of -any apology on the part of the author for the faults that it contains. -Some persons, indeed, have objected to that part of the dedication to -the first edition, in which I stated my belief that Philip Augustus -was the best romance I had at that time written. I cannot, however, -see any presumption in comparing my own works amongst themselves, when -I neither make any reference to those of others, nor seek to bow -public taste to my individual opinion. I am perfectly sensible that -Philip Augustus has many errors; the chief of which, perhaps, is the -slender connection between the two stories which run through the book. -This I have found it utterly impossible to remedy, and I have, -therefore, in this edition, confined my alterations to some verbal -corrections, to the addition of some notes, and to the cutting out of -some heavy poetry which had nothing to do with the story. - -Fair Oak Lodge, - Aug. 15, 1837. - - - - - - -ADVERTISEMENT -TO -THE FIRST EDITION. ---------------- - - -Very few words of preface are necessary to the following work. In -regard to the character of Philip Augustus himself, I have not been -guided by any desire of making him appear greater, or better, or wiser -than he really was. Rigord his physician, William the Breton, his -chaplain, who was present at the battle of Bovines, and various other -annalists comprised in the excellent collection of memoirs published -by Monsieur Guizot, have been my authorities. A different view has -been taken of his life by several writers, inimical to him, either -from belonging to some of the factions of those times, or to hostile -countries; but it is certain, that all who came in close contact with -Philip loved the man, and admired the monarch. All the principal -events here narrated, in regard to that monarch and his queen, are -historical facts, though brought within a shorter space of time than -that which they really occupied. The sketch of King John, and the -scenes in which he was unavoidably introduced, I have made as brief as -possible, under the apprehension of putting my writings in comparison -with something inimitably superior. The picture of the mischievous -idiot, Gallon the Fool, was taken from a character which fell under my -notice for some time in the South of France. - - - - - - -PHILIP AUGUSTUS. - - - - -CHAPTER I. - -INTRODUCTION. - - -Although there is something chilling in that sad, inevitable word, -_the past_--although in looking through the thronged rolls of history, -and reading of all the dead passions, the fruitless anxieties, the -vain, unproductive yearnings of beings that were once as full of -thrilling life and feeling as ourselves, and now are nothing, we gain -but the cold moral of our own littleness--still the very -indistinctness of the distance softens and beautifies the objects of a -former epoch that we thus look back upon; and in the far retrospect of -the days gone by, a thousand bright and glistening spots stand out, -and catch the last most brilliant rays of a sun that has long set to -the multitude of smaller things around them. - -To none of these bright points does the light of history lend a more -dazzling lustre than to the twelfth century, when the most brilliant -(if it was not the most perfect) institution of modern Europe, the -feudal system, rose to its highest pitch of splendour; when it -incorporated with itself the noblest Order that ever the enthusiasm of -man (if not his wisdom) conceived--the Order of Chivalry: and when it -undertook an enterprise which, though fanatic in design, faulty in -execution, and encumbered with all the multitude of frailties that -enchain human endeavour, was in itself magnificent and heroic, -and in its consequences grand, useful, and impulsive to the whole of -Europe--the Crusades. - -The vast expenses, however, which the crusades required--expenses not -only of that yellow dross, the unprofitable representative of earths -real riches, but also expenses of invaluable time, of blood, of -energy, of talent--exhausted and enfeebled every christian realm, and -left, in each, the nerves of internal policy unstrung and weak, with a -lassitude like that which, in the human frame, succeeds to any great -and unaccustomed excitement. - -Although through all Europe, in that day, the relationships of lord, -vassal, and serf, were the grand divisions of society, yet it was in -France that the feudal system existed in its most perfect form, rising -in gradual progression:--first, serfs, or villains; then vavassors, or -vassals holding of a vassal; then vassals holding of a suzerain, yet -possessing the right of high justice; then suzerains, great -feudatories, holding of the king; and, lastly, the king himself, with -smaller domains than many of his own vassals, but with a general -though limited right and jurisdiction over them all. In a kingdom so -constituted, the crusade, a true feudal enterprise, was, of course, -followed with enthusiasm amounting to madness; and the effects were -the more dreadful, as the absence of each lord implied in general the -absence of all government in his domains. - -Unnumbered forests then covered the face of France; or, rather, the -whole country presented nothing but one great forest; scattered -through which, occasional patches of cultivated land, rudely tilled by -the serfs of glebe, sufficed for the support of a thin and diminished -population. General police was unthought of; and, though every feudal -chief, within his own territory, exercised that sort of justice which -to him seemed good, too little distinction existed between the -character of robber and judge, for us to suppose that the public -benefited much by the tribunals of the barons. The forests, the -mountains, and the moors, swarmed with plunderers of every -description; and besides the nobles themselves, who very frequently -were professed robbers on the highway, three distinct classes of -banditti existed in France, who, though different in origin, in -manners, and in object, yet agreed wonderfully in the general -principle of pillaging all who were unable to protect themselves. - -These three classes, the Brabançois, the Cotereaux, and the Routiers, -have, from this general assimilating link, been very often confounded; -and, indeed, on many occasions they are found to have changed name and -profession when occasion served, the same band having been at one -moment Brabançois, and the next Cotereaux, wherever any advantage was -to be gained by the difference of denomination; and also we find that -they ever acted together as friends and allies, where any general -danger threatened their whole community. The Brabançois, however, were -originally very distinct from the Cotereaux, having sprung up from the -various free companies, which the necessities of the time obliged the -monarchs of Europe to employ in their wars. Each vassal, by the feudal -tenure, owed his sovereign but a short period of military service, -and, if personal interest or regard would sometimes lead them to -prolong it, anger or jealousy would as often make them withdraw their -aid at the moment it was most needful. Monarchs found that they must -have men they could command, and the bands of adventurous soldiers, -known by the name of Brabançois[1], were always found useful -auxiliaries in any time of danger. As long as they were well paid, -they were in general brave, orderly, and obedient; the moment their -pay ceased, they dispersed under their several leaders, ravaged, -pillaged, and consumed, levying on the country in general, that pay -which the limited finances of the sovereign always prevented him from -continuing, except in time of absolute warfare.[2] Still, however, -even in their character of plunderers, they had the dignity of rank -and chivalry, were often led by knights and nobles; and though in the -army they joined the qualities of the mercenary and the robber to -those of the soldier, in the forest and on the moor they often added -somewhat of the frank generosity of the soldier to the rapacity of the -freebooter. - - --------------------- - -[Footnote 1: Generally and rationally supposed to have been derived -from the country which poured forth the first numerous bands of these -adventurers; i.e. Brabant. See Ducange, La Chenaye du Bois, &c. Philip -Augustus in the end destroyed them for a time.] - -[Footnote 2: The great companies of the fourteenth century had their -type in the Brabançois, and various other bodies of freebooters, which -appeared previous to that period. The chief characteristic of all of -these bands was, the having degenerated from soldiers to plunderers, -while they maintained a certain degree of discipline and -subordination, but cast off every other tie.] - --------------------- - - -The Cotereaux were different in origin--at least, if we may trust -Ducange--springing at first from fugitive serfs, and the scattered -remains of those various bands of revolted peasantry, which, from time -to time, had struggled ineffectually to shake off the oppressive -tyranny of their feudal lords. - -These joined together in troops of very uncertain numbers, from tens -to thousands, and levied a continual war upon the community they had -abandoned, though, probably, they acted upon no general system, nor -were influenced by any one universal feeling, but the love of plunder, -and the absolute necessity of self-defence. - -The Routier was the common robber, who either played his single stake, -and hazarded life for life with any one he met, or banded with others, -and shared the trade of the Coterel, with whom he was frequently -confounded, and from whom, indeed, he hardly differed except in -origin. - -While the forests and wilds of France were thus tenanted by men who -preyed upon their fellows, the castles and the cities were inhabited -by two races, united for the time as lord and serf, but both advancing -rapidly to a point of separation; the lord at the very acme of his -power, with no prospect on any side but decline; the burgher -struggling already for freedom, and growing strong by association. - -Tyrants ever, and often simple robbers, the feudal chieftains had -lately received a touch of refinement, by their incorporation with the -order of chivalry. Courtesy was joined to valour. Song burst forth, -and gave a voice to fame. The lay of the troubadour bore the tidings -of great actions from clime to clime, and was at once the knight's -ambition and his reward; while the bitter satire of the sirvente, or -the playful apologue of the fabliau, scourged all that was base and -ungenerous, and held up the disloyal and uncourteous to the -all-powerful corrective of public opinion. - -Something still remains to be said upon the institution of chivalry, -and I can give no better sketch of its history than in the eloquent -words of the commentator on St Palaye.[3] - - --------------------- - -[Footnote 3: M. Charles Nodier.] - --------------------- - - -"Towards the middle of the tenth century, some poor nobles, united by -the necessity of legitimate defence, and startled by the excesses -certain to follow the multiplicity of sovereign powers, took pity on -the tears and misery of the people. Invoking God and St. George, they -gave each other their hand, plighted themselves to the defence of the -oppressed, and placed the weak under the protection of their sword. -Simple in their dress, austere in their morals, humble after victory, -and firm in misfortune, in a short time they won for themselves -immense renown. - -"Popular gratitude, in its simple and credulous joy, fed itself with -marvellous tales of their deeds of arms, exalted their valour, and -united in its prayers its generous liberators with even the powers of -Heaven. So natural is it for misfortune to deify those who bring it -consolation. - -"In those old times, as power was a right, courage was of course a -virtue. These men, to whom was given, in the end, the name of Knights, -carried this virtue to the highest degree. Cowardice was punished -amongst them as an unpardonable crime; falsehood they held in horror; -perfidy and breach of promise they branded with infamy; nor have the -most celebrated legislators of antiquity any thing comparable to their -statutes. - -"This league of warriors maintained itself for more than a century in -all its pristine simplicity, because the circumstances amidst which it -rose changed but slowly; but when a great political and religious -movement announced the revolution about to take place in the minds of -men, then chivalry took a legal form, and a rank amidst authorised -institutions. - -"The crusades, and the emancipation of the cities which marked the -apogee of the feudal government, are the two events which most -contributed to the destruction of chivalry. True it is, that then also -it found its greatest splendour; but it lost its virtuous independence -and its simplicity of manners. - -"Kings soon found all the benefit they might derive from an armed -association which should hold a middle place between the crown and -those too powerful vassals who usurped all its prerogatives. From that -time, kings created knights, and bound them to the throne by all the -forms used in feudal investiture. But the particular character of -those distant times was the pride of privileges; and the crown could -not devise any, without the nobility arrogating to itself the same. -Thus the possessors of the greater feofs hastened to imitate their -monarch. Not only did they create knights, but this title, dear in a -nation's gratitude, became their hereditary privilege. This invasion -stopped not there, lesser chiefs imitated their sovereigns, and -chivalry, losing its ancient unity, became no more than an honourable -distinction, the principles of which, however, had for long a happy -influence upon the fate of the people." - -Such then was the position of France towards the end of the twelfth -century. A monarch, with limited revenues and curtailed privileges; a -multitude of petty sovereigns, each despotic in his own territories; a -chivalrous and ardent nobility; a population of serfs, just learning -to dream of liberty; a soil rich, but overgrown with forests, and -almost abandoned to itself; an immense body of the inhabitants living -by rapine, and a total want of police and of civil government. - -The crusade against Saladin was over.--Richard C[oe]ur de Lion was -dead, and Constantinople had just fallen into the hands of a body of -French knights at the time this tale begins. At the same period, John -Lackland held the sceptre of the English kings with a feeble hand, and -a poor and dastardly spirit; while Philip Augustus, with grand views, -but a limited power, sat firmly on the throne of France; and by the -vigorous impulse of a great, though a passionate and irregular mind, -hurried forward his kingdom, and Europe along with it, towards days of -greatness and civilisation, still remote. - - - - -CHAPTER II. - - -Seven hundred years ago, the same bright summer sun was shining in his -glory, that now rolls past before my eyes in all the beneficent -majesty of light. It was the month of May, and every thing in nature -seemed to breathe of the fresh buoyancy of youth. There was a light -breeze in the sky, that carried many a swift shadow over mountain, -plain, and wood. There was a springy vigour in the atmosphere, as if -the wind itself were young. The earth was full of flowers, and the -woods full of voice; and song and perfume shared the air between them. - -Such was the morning when a party of travellers took their way slowly -up the south-eastern side of the famous Monts d'Or in Auvergne. The -road, winding in and out through the immense forest which covered -the base of the hills, now showed, now concealed, the abrupt -mountain-peaks starting out from their thick vesture of wood, and -opposing their cold blue summits to the full blaze of the morning sun. -Sometimes, turning round a sharp angle of the rock, the trees would -break away and leave the eye full room to roam, past the forest -hanging thick upon the edge of the slope, over valleys and hills, and -plains beyond, to the far wanderings of the Allier through the distant -country. Nor did the view end here; for the plains themselves, lying -like a map spread out below, stretched away to the very sky: and even -there, a few faint blue shadows, piled up in the form of peaks and -cones, left the mind uncertain whether the Alps themselves did not -there bound the view, or whether some fantastic clouds did not combine -with that bright deceiver, fancy, to cheat the eye. - -At other times, the road seemed to plunge into the deepest recesses of -the mountains, passing through the midst of black detached rocks and -tall columns of grey basalt, broken fragments of which lay scattered -on either side; while a thousand shrubs and flowers twined, as in -mockery, over them; and the protruding roots of the large ancient -trees grasped the fallen prisms of the volcanic pillars, as if -vaunting the pride of even vegetable life over the cold, dull, -inanimate stone. - -Here and there, too, would often rise up on each side high masses of -the mountain, casting all in shadow between them; while the bright -yellow lights which streamed amidst the trees above, spangling the -foliage as if with liquid gold, and the shining of the clear blue sky -overhead, were the only signs of summer that reached the bottom of -the ravine. Then again, breaking out upon a wide green slope, the path -would emerge into the sunshine, or, passing even through the very dew -of the cataract, would partake of the thousand colours of the sunbow -that hung above its fall. - -It was a scene and a morning like one of those days of unmixed -happiness that sometimes shine in upon the path of youth--so few, and -yet so beautiful. Its very wildness was lovely; and the party of -travellers who wound up the path added to the interest of the scene by -redeeming it from perfect solitude, and linking it to social -existence. - -The manner of their advance, too, which partook of the forms of a -military procession, made the group in itself picturesque. A single -squire, mounted on a strong bony horse, led the way at about fifty -yards' distance from the rest of the party. He was a tall, powerful -man, of a dark complexion and high features; and from beneath his -thick, arched eyebrow gazed out a full, brilliant, black eye, which -roved incessantly over the scene, and seemed to notice the smallest -object around. He was armed with cuirass and steel cap, sword and -dagger; and yet the different form and rude finishing of his arms did -not admit of their being confounded with those of a knight. The two -who next followed were evidently of a different grade; and, though -both young men, both wore a large cross pendant from their neck, and a -small branch of palm in the bonnet. The one who rode on the right hand -was armed at all points, except his head and arms, in plate armour, -curiously inlaid with gold in a thousand elegant and fanciful -arabesques, the art of perfecting which is said to have been first -discovered at Damascus. The want of his gauntlets and brassards showed -his arms covered with a quilted jacket of crimson silk, called a -gambesoon, and large gloves of thick buff leather. The place of his -casque was supplied by a large brown hood, cut into a long peak -behind, which fell almost to his horse's back; while the folds in -front were drawn round a face which, without being strikingly -handsome, was nevertheless noble and dignified in its expression, -though clouded by a shade of melancholy which had channelled his cheek -with many a deep line, and drawn his brow into a fixed but not a -bitter frown. - -In form he was, to all appearance, broad made and powerful; but the -steel plates in which he was clothed, of course greatly concealed the -exact proportions of his figure; though withal there was a sort of -easy grace in his carriage, which, almost approaching to negligence, -was but the more conspicuous from the very stiffness of his armour. -His features were aquiline, and had something in them that seemed to -betoken quick and violent passions; and yet such a supposition was at -once contradicted by the calm, still, melancholy of his large dark -eyes. - -The horse on which the knight rode was a tall, powerful German -stallion, jet black in colour; and though not near so strong as one -which a squire led at a little distance behind, yet, being -unencumbered with panoply itself, it was fully equal to the weight of -its rider, armed as he was. - -The crusader's companion--for the palm and cross betokened that they -both returned from the Holy Land--formed as strong a contrast as can -well be conceived to the horseman we have just described. He was a -fair, handsome man, round whose broad, high forehead curled a -profusion of rich chestnut hair, which behind, having been suffered to -grow to an extraordinary length, fell down in thick masses upon his -shoulders. His eye was one of those long, full, grey eyes, which, when -fringed with very dark lashes, give a more thoughtful expression to -the countenance than even those of a deeper hue; and such would have -been the case with his, had not its clear powerful glance been -continually at variance with a light, playful turn of his lip, that -seemed full of sportive mockery. - -His age might be four or five and twenty--perhaps more; for he was of -that complexion that retains long the look of youth, and on which even -cares and toils seem for years to spend themselves in vain:--and yet -it was evident, from the bronzed ruddiness of what was originally a -very fair complexion, that he had suffered long exposure to a burning -sun; while a deep scar on one of his cheeks, though it did not -disfigure him, told that he did not spare his person in the -battle-field. - -No age or land is, of course, without its foppery; and however -inconsistent such a thing may appear, joined with the ideas of cold -steel and mortal conflicts, no small touch of it was visible in the -apparel of the younger horseman. His person, from the shoulders down -to the middle of his thigh, was covered with a bright haubert, or -shirt of steel rings, which, polished like glass, and lying flat upon -each other, glittered and flashed in the sunshine as if they were -formed of diamonds. On his head he wore a green velvet cap, which -corresponded in colour with the border of his gambesoon, the puckered -silk of which rose above the edge of the shirt of mail, and prevented -the rings from chafing upon his neck. Over this hung a long mantle of -fine cloth of a deep green hue, on the shoulder of which was -embroidered a broad red cross, distinguishing the French crusader. The -hood, which was long and pointed, like his companion's, was thrown -back from his face, and exposed a lining of miniver. - -The horse he rode was a slight, beautiful Arabian, as white as snow in -every part of his body, except where round his nostrils, and on the -tendons of his pastern and hoof, the white mellowed into a fine pale -pink. To look at his slender limbs, and the bending pliancy of every -step, one would have judged him scarcely able to bear so tall and -powerful a man as his rider, loaded with a covering of steel; but the -proud toss of his head, the snort of his wide nostril, and the -flashing fire of his clear crystal eye, spoke worlds of unexhausted -strength and spirit; though the thick dust, with which the whole party -were covered, evinced that their day's journey had already been long. -Behind each knight, except where the narrowness of the road obliged -them to change the order of their march, one of their squires led a -battle-horse in his right hand; and several others followed, bearing -the various pieces of their offensive and defensive armour. - -This, however, was to be remarked, that the arms of the -first-mentioned horseman were distributed amongst a great many -persons; one carrying the casque upright on the pommel of the saddle, -another bearing his shield and lance, another his brassards and -gauntlets; while the servants of the second knight, more scanty in -number, were fain to take each upon himself a heavier load. - -To these immediate attendants succeeded a party of simple grooms -leading various other horses, amongst which were one or two Arabians, -and the whole cavalcade was terminated by a small body of archers. - -For long, the two knights proceeded silently on their way, sometimes -side by side, sometimes one preceding the other, as the road widened -or diminished in its long tortuous way up the acclivity of the -mountains, but still without exchanging a single word. The one -whom--though there was probably little difference of age--we shall -call the elder, seemed, indeed, too deeply absorbed in his own -thoughts, to desire, or even permit of conversation, and kept his eyes -bent pensively forward on the road before, without even giving a -glance to his companion, whose gaze roamed enchanted over all the -exquisite scenery around, and whose mind seemed fully occupied in -noting all the lovely objects he beheld. From time to time, indeed, -his eye glanced to his brother knight, and a sort of sympathetic shade -came over his brow, as he saw the deep gloom in which he was involved. -Occasionally, too, a sort of movement of impatience seemed to agitate -him, as if there was something that he fain would speak. But then -again the cold unexpecting fixedness of his companion's features -appeared to repel it, and, returning to the view, he more than once -apparently suppressed what was rising to his lips, or only gave it -vent in humming a few lines of some lay, or some sirvente, the words -of which, however, were inaudible. At length what was labouring within -seemed to break through all restraint, and, drawing his rein, he made -his horse pause for an instant, while he exclaimed-- - -"Is it possible. _Beau Sire_ d'Auvergne, that the sight of your own -fair land cannot draw from you a word or a glance?" while, as he -spoke, he made his horse bound forward again, and throwing his left -hand over the whole splendid scene that the opening of the trees -exposed to the sight, he seemed to bid it appeal to the heart of his -companion, and upbraid him with his indifference. - -The Count d'Auvergne raised his eyes, and let them rest for an instant -on the view to which his companion pointed; then dropped them to his -friend's face, and replied calmly-- - -"Had any one told me, five years ago, that such would be the case, Guy -de Coucy, I would have given him the lie." - -Guy de Coucy answered nothing directly, but took up his song again, -saying-- - - - "He who tells his sorrow, may find - That he sows but the seed of the empty wind; - But he who keeps it within his breast, - Nurses a serpent to gnaw his rest." - - -"You sing truly, De Coucy, as I have proved too bitterly," replied the -Count d'Auvergne; "but since we have kept companionship together, I -have ever found you gay and happy. Why should I trouble your repose -with sorrows not your own?" - -"Good faith! fair count, I understand you well," replied the other, -laughing. "You would say that you have ever held me more merry than -wise; more fit to enliven a dull table than listen to a sad tale; a -better companion in brawls or merrymaking than in sorrows or -solemnities; and 'faith you are right, I love them not; and, -therefore, is it not the greatest proof of my friendship, when hating -sorrows as much as man well may, I ask you to impart me yours?" - -"In truth, it is," answered the Count d'Auvergne; "but yet I will not -load your friendship so, De Coucy. Mine are heavy sorrows, which I -would put upon no man's light heart. However, I have this day given -way to them more than I should do; but it is the very sight of my -native land, beautiful and beloved as it is, which, waking in my -breast the memory of hopes and joys passed away for ever, has made me -less master of myself than I am wont." - -"Fie now, fie!" cried his friend; "Thibalt d'Auvergne, wouldst thou -make me think the heart of a bold knight as fragile as the egg of a -chaffinch, on which if but a cat sets her paw, it is broken never to -be mended again? Nay, nay! there is consolation even in the heart of -all evils; like the honey that the good knight, Sir Samson, found in -the jaws of the lion which he killed when he was out hunting with the -king of the Saracens." - -"You mean, when he was going down to the Philistines," said his friend -with a slight smile; though such mistakes were no way rare in those -days; and De Coucy spoke it in somewhat of a jesting tone, as if -laughing himself at the ignorance he assumed. - -"Be it so, be it so!" proceeded the other. "'Tis all the same. But, as -I said, there is consolation in every evil. Hast thou lost thy dearest -friend in the battle-field? Thank God! that he died knightly in his -harness! Hast thou pawned thy estate to the Jew? Thank God! that thou -may'st curse him to thy heart's content in this world, and feel sure -of his damnation hereafter!" The count smiled; and his friend -proceeded, glad to see that he had won him even for a time from -himself:--"Has thy falcon strayed? Say, 'twas a vile bird and a foul -feeder, and call it a good loss. Has thy lady proved cold? Has thy -mistress betrayed thee. Seek a warmer or a truer, and be happily -deceived again." - -The colour came and went in the cheek of the Count d'Auvergne; and for -an instant his eyes flashed fire; but reading perfect unconsciousness -of all offence in the clear open countenance of De Coucy, he bit his -lip till his teeth left a deep white dent therein, but remained -silent. - -"Fie, fie! D'Auvergne!" continued De Coucy, not noticing the emotion -his words had produced. "Thou, a knight who hast laid more Saracen -heads low than there are bells on your horse's poitral, not able to -unhorse so black a miscreant as Melancholy! Thou, who hast knelt at -the holy sepulchre," he added in a more dignified tone, "not to find -hope in faith, and comfort in the blessed Saviour, for whose cross -you've fought!" - -The count turned round, in some surprise at the unwonted vein which -the last part of his companion's speech indicated; but De Coucy kept -to it but for a moment, and then, darting off, he proceeded in the -same light way with which he had begun the conversation. "Melancholy!" -he cried in a loud voice, at the same time taking off his glove, as if -he would have cast it down as a gage of battle--"Melancholy and all -that do abet him. Love, Jealousy, Hatred, Fear, Poverty, and the like, -I do pronounce ye false miscreants, and defy you all! There lays my -glove!" and he made a show of throwing it on the ground. - -"Ah, De Coucy!" said D'Auvergne, with a melancholy smile, "your light -heart never knew what love is; and may it never know!" - -"By the rood! you do me wrong," cried De Coucy--"bitter wrong, -D'Auvergne! I defy you, in the whole lists of Europe's chivalry, to -find a man who has been so often in love as I have--ay, and though you -smile--with all the signs of true and profound love to boot. When I -was in love with the Princess of Suabia, did not I sigh three times -every morning, and sometimes sneeze as often? for it was winter -weather, and I used to pass half my nights under her window. When I -was in love with the daughter of Tancred of Sicily, did I not run -seven courses for her with all the best champions of England and -France, in my silk gambesoon, with no arms but my lance in my hand, -and my buckler on my arm? When I was in love with the pretty -Marchioness of Syracuse, did not I ride a mare one whole day,[4] -without ever knowing it, from pure absence of mind and profound -love?--and when I was in love with all the ladies of Cyprus, did not I -sing lays and write sirventes for them all?" - - --------------------- - -[Footnote 4: To ride a mare was reckoned in those days unworthy of -anyone but a juggler, a charlatan, or a serf.] - --------------------- - - -"Your fighting in your hoqueton," replied D'Auvergne, "showed that you -were utterly fearless; and your riding on a mare showed that you were -utterly whimsical; but neither one nor the other showed you were in -love, my dear De Coucy. But look, De Coucy! the road bends downwards -into that valley. Either I have strangely forgotten my native land, or -your surly squire has led us wrong, and we are turning away from the -Puy to the valleys of Dome.--Ho, sirrah!" he continued, elevating his -voice and addressing the squire, who rode first, "Are you sure you are -right?" - -"Neither Cotereaux, nor Brabançois, nor Routiers, nor living creatures -of any kind, see I, to the right or left, _Beau Sire_," replied the -squire, in a measured man-at-arms-like tone, without either turning -his head or slackening his pace in the least degree. - -"But art thou leading us on the right road? I ask thee," repeated the -count. - -"I know not. Beau Sire," replied the squire. "I was thrown out, to -guard against danger,--I had no commands to seek the right road." And -he continued to ride on the wrong way as calmly as if no question -existed in respect to its direction. - -"Halt!" cried De Coucy. The man-at-arms stood still; and a short -council was held between the two knights in regard to their farther -proceedings, when it was determined that, although they were evidently -wrong, they should still continue for some way on the same road, -rather than turn back after so long a journey. "We must come to some -château or some habitation soon," said De Coucy; "or, at the worst, -find some of your country shepherds to guide us on towards the chapel. -But, methinks, Hugo de Barre, you might have told us sooner, that you -did not know the way!" - -"Now, good sir knight," replied the squire, speaking more freely when -addressed by his own lord, "none knew better than yourself, that I had -never been in Auvergne in all my days before. Did you ever hear of my -quitting my cot and my glebe, except to follow my good lord the baron, -your late father, for a forty days' _chevauchée_ against the enemy, -before I took the blessed cross, and went a fool's errand to the Holy -Land?" - -"How now, sir!" cried De Coucy. "Do you call the holy crusade a fool's -errand? Be silent, Hugo, and lead on. Thou art a good scout and a good -soldier, and that is all thou art fit for." - -The squire replied nothing; but rode on in silence, instantly resuming -his habit of glancing his eye rapidly over every object that -surrounded him, with a scrupulous accuracy that left scarce a -possibility of ambuscade. The knights and their train followed; and -turning round a projecting part of the mountain, they found that the -road, instead of descending, as they had imagined, continued to climb -the steep, which at every step gained some new feature of grandeur and -singularity, till the sublime became almost the terrific. The verdure -gradually ceased, and the rocks approached so close on each side as to -leave no more space than just sufficient for the road, and a narrow -deep ravine by its side, at the bottom of which, wherever the thick -bushes permitted the eye to reach it, the mountain torrent was seen -dashing and roaring over enormous blocks of black lava, which it had -channelled into all strange shapes and appearances. High above the -heads of the travellers, also, rose on either hand a range of enormous -basaltic columns, fringed at the top by some dark old pines that, -hanging seventy or eighty feet in the air, seemed to form a frieze to -the gigantic colonnade through which they passed. - -De Coucy looked up with a smile, not unmixed with awe. "Could you not -fancy, D'Auvergne," he said, "that we were entering the portico of a -temple built by some bad enchanter to the Evil Spirit? By the holy -rood! it is a grand and awful scene! I did not think thy Auvergne was -so magnificent." - -As he spoke, the squire, who preceded them, suddenly stopped, and, -turning round-- - -"The road ends here. _Beau Sire_," he cried. "The bridge is broken, -and there is no farther passage." - -"Light of my eyes!" cried De Coucy; "this is unfortunate! But let us -see, at all events, before we turn back:" and, riding forward, he -approached the spot where his squire stood. - -It was even as he had said, however. All farther progress in a direct -line was stopped by an immense mass of lava, which had probably lain -there for immemorial centuries. Certainly when the road was made, -which was probably in the days of the Romans, the same obstruction had -existed; for, instead of attempting to continue the way along the side -of the hill any farther in that direction, a single arch had been -thrown over the narrow ravine, and the road carried on through a wide -breach in the rocks on the other side. This opening, however, offered -nothing to the eye of De Coucy and his companions but a vacant space, -backed by the clear blue sky. The travellers paused, and gazed upon -the broken bridge and the road beyond for a minute or two, before -turning back, with that sort of silent pause which generally -precedes the act of yielding to some disagreeable necessity. However, -after a moment, the younger knight beckoned to one of his squires, -crying--"Give me my casque and sword!" - -"Now, in the name of Heaven! what Orlando trick are you going to put -in practice, De Coucy?" cried the Count d'Auvergne, watching his -companion take his helmet from the squire, and buckle on his long, -straight sword by his side. "Are you going to cleave that rock of -lava, or bridge over the ravine, with your shield?" - -"Neither," replied the knight, with a smile; "but I hear voices, -brought by the wind through that cleft on the other side, and I am -going over to ask the way." - -"De Coucy, you are mad!" cried the count. "Your courage is insanity. -Neither man nor horse can take that leap!" - -"Pshaw! you know not what Zerbilin can do!" said De Coucy, calmly -patting the arching neck of his slight Arabian horse: "and yet you -have yourself seen him take greater leaps than that!" - -"But see you not the road slopes upwards," urged the count. "There is -no hold for his feet. The horse is weary." - -"Weary!" exclaimed De Coucy: "nonsense! Give me space--give me space!" - -And, in spite of all remonstrance, he reined his horse back, and then -spurred him on to the leap. The obedient animal galloped onward to the -brink, shot forward like an arrow, and reached the other side.[5] But -what the Count d'Auvergne had said was just. The road beyond sloped -upwards from the very edge, and was composed of loose volcanic scoria, -which afforded no firm footing; so that the horse, though he -accomplished the leap, slipped backwards the moment he had reached the -opposite side, and rolled with his rider down into the ravine below! - - --------------------- - -[Footnote 5: Although this act of rashness certainly breathes the -spirit of romance, yet such things have been done, and even in our own -day.] - --------------------- - - -"Jesu Maria!" cried the count, springing to the ground, and advancing -to the edge of the ravine. "De Coucy, De Coucy!" cried he, "are you in -life?" - -"Yes, yes!" answered a faint voice from below: "and Zerbilin is not -hurt!" - -"But yourself, De Coucy!" cried his friend,--"speak of yourself!" - -A groan was the only reply. - - - - -CHAPTER III. - - -It was in vain that the Count d'Auvergne gazed down into the ravine, -endeavouring to gain a sight of his rash friend. A mass of shrubs -overhung the shelving edge of the rock and totally intercepted his -view. In the meanwhile, however, Hugo de Barre, the squire who had led -the cavalcade, had sprung to the ground, and was already half-way over -the brink, attempting to descend to his lord's assistance, when a deep -voice from the bottom of the dell exclaimed, "Hold! hold above! Try -not to come down there. You will bring the rocks and loose stones upon -our heads, and kill us all." - -"Who is it speaks?" cried the Count d'Auvergne. - -"One of the hermits of Our Lady's chapel of the Mont d'Or," replied -the voice. "If ye be this knight's friends, go back for a thousand -paces, and ye will find a path down to the left, which leads to the -road by the stream. But if ye be his enemies, who have driven him to -the dreadful leap he has taken, get ye hence, for he is even now at -the foot of the cross." - -The Count d'Auvergne, without staying to reply, rode back as the -hermit directed, and easily found the path which they had before -passed, but which, as it apparently led in a direction different from -that in which they wished to proceed, they had hardly noticed at the -time. Following this path, they soon reached the bottom of the ravine, -where they found a good road, jammed in, as it were, between the rocks -over which they had passed, and the small mountain-stream they had -observed from above. For some way the windings of the dell and the -various projections of the crags, prevented them from seeing for any -distance in advance; but at length they came suddenly upon a group of -several persons, mounted and dismounted, both male and female, -gathered round De Coucy's beautiful Arabian, Zerbilin, who stood in -the midst soiled and scratched indeed, and trembling with the fright -and exertion of his fall, but almost totally uninjured, and filling -the air with his long wild neighings. The group by which he was -surrounded consisted entirely of the attendants of some persons not -present, squires and varlets in very gay attire; and female servants -and waiting women, not a bit behind hand in flutter and finery. A -beautiful brown Spanish jennet, such as any fair lady might love to -ride, stood near, held by one of those old squires who, in that age, -cruelly monopolised the privilege of assisting their lady to mount and -dismount, much to the disappointment of many a young page and gallant -gentleman, who would willing have relieved them of the task, -especially when the lady in question was young and fair. Not far off -was placed a strong but ancient horse, waiting for some other person, -who was absent with the lady of the jennet. - -Above the heads of this group, half-way up the face of the rock, stood -a large cross elevated on a projecting mass of stone, and behind it -appeared the mouth of a cavern, or rather of an excavation, from which -the blocks of lava had been drawn, in order to form the bridge we have -mentioned, now fallen from its "high estate," and encumbering the bed -of the river. It was easy to perceive the figures of several persons -moving to and fro in the cave, and concluding at once that it was -thither his unfortunate friend had been borne, the Count d'Auvergne -sprang to the ground, and passing through the group of pages and -waiting-women, who gazed upon him and his archers with some alarm, he -made his way up the little path that led to the mouth of the cave. -Here he found De Coucy stretched upon a bed of dry rushes, while a -tall, emaciated old man, covered with a brown frock, and ornamented -with a long white beard, stood by his side, holding his hand. Between -his fingers the hermit held a lancet; and from the strong muscular arm -of the knight, a stream of blood was just beginning to flow into a -small wooden bowl held by a page. - -Several other persons, however, filled the hermit's cave, of whom two -are worthy of more particular notice. The first was a short, stout, -old man, with a complexion that argued florid health and vigour, and a -small, keen, grey eye, the quick movement of which, with a sudden curl -of the lip and contraction of the brow on every slight occasion of -contradiction, might well bespeak a quick and impatient disposition. -The second was a young lady of perhaps nineteen or twenty, slight in -figure, but yet with every limb rounded in the full and swelling -contour of woman's most lovely age. Her features were small, delicate, -and nowhere sharp, yet cut with that square exactness of outline so -beautiful in the efforts of the Grecian chisel. Her eyes were long, -and full, and dark; and the black lashes that fringed them, as she -gazed earnestly on the figure of De Coucy, swept downward and lay upon -her cheek. The hair, that fell in a profusion of thick curls round her -face, was as black as jet; and yet her skin, though of that peculiar -tint almost inseparable from dark hair and eyes, was strikingly fair, -and as smooth as alabaster; while a faint but very beautiful colour -spread over each cheek, and died away into the clear pure white of her -temples. - -In days when love was a duty, and coldness a dishonour, on the part of -all who enjoyed or aspired to chivalry, no false delicacies, no fear -of compromising herself, none of the mighty considerations of small -proprieties that now-a-days hamper all the feelings, and enchain all -the frankness, of the female heart, weighed on the lady of the -thirteenth century. It was her duty to feel and to express an interest -in every good knight in danger and misfortune; and the fair being we -have just described, before the eyes of her father, who looked upon -her with honourable pride, knelt by the side of De Coucy; and while -the hermit held the arm from which the blood was just beginning to -flow, she kept the small fingers of her soft white hand upon the other -sinewy wrist of the insensible knight, and anxiously watched the -returning animation. - -While the Count d'Auvergne entered the cave in silence, and placed -himself beside the hermit, De Coucy's squire, Hugo de Barre, with one -of the pages, both devotedly attached to their young lord, had climbed -up also, and stood at the mouth of the cavern. - -"God's life! Hugo," cried the page, "let them not take my lord's -blood. We have got amongst traitors. They are killing him." - -"Peace, fool!" answered Hugo; "'tis a part of leech-craft. Did you -never see Fulk, the barber, bleed the old baron? Why, he had it done -every week. The De Coucys have more blood than other men." - -The page was silent for a moment, and then replied in an under-tone, -for there was a sort of contagious stillness round the hurt knight. -"You had better look to it, Hugo. They are bleeding my lord too much. -That hermit means him harm. See, how he stares at the great carbuncle -in Sir Guy's thumb-ring! He's murdering my lord to steal it. Shall I -put my dagger in him?" - -"Hold thy silly prate, Ermold de Marcy!" replied the squire: "think -you, the good count would stand by and see his sworn brother in arms -bled, without it was for his good? See you now, Sir Guy wakes!--God's -benison on you, Sir Hermit!" - -De Coucy did indeed open his eyes, and looked round, though but -faintly. "D'Auvergne," said he, the moment after, while the playful -smile fluttered again round his lips, "by the rood! I had nearly -leaped farther than I intended, and taken Zerbilin with me into -Paradise. Thanks, hermit!--thanks, gentle lady!--I can rise now. Ho! -Hugo, lend me thine arm." - -But the hermit gently put his hand upon the knight's breast, saying, -in a tone more resembling cynical bitterness than Christian mildness, -"Hold, my son! This world is not the sweetest of dwelling-places; but -if thou wouldst not change it for a small, cold, comfortable grave, -lie still. You shall be carried up to the chapel of Our Lady, by the -lake, where there is more space than in this cave; and there I will -find means to heal your bruises in two days, if your quick spirit may -be quiet for so long." - -As he spoke, he stopped the bleeding, and bound up the arm of the -knight, who, finding probably even by the slight exertion he had made -that he was in no fit state to act for himself, submitted quietly, -merely giving a glance to the Count d'Auvergne, half rueful, half -smiling, as if he would fain have laughed at himself and his own -helplessness, if the pain of his bruises would have let him. - -"I prithee, holy father hermit, tell me," said the Count d'Auvergne, -"is the hurt of this good knight dangerous? for if it be, we will send -to Mont Ferrand for some skilful leech from my uncle's castle--and -instantly." - -"His body is sufficiently bruised, my son," replied the hermit, "to -give him, I hope, a sounder mind for the future, than to leap his -horse down a precipice: and as for the leech, let him stay at Mont -Ferrand. The knight is bad enough without his help, if he come to make -him worse; and if he come to cure him, I can do that without his aid. -Leech-craft is as much worse than ignorance, as killing is worse than -letting die." - -"By my faith and my knighthood," cried the old gentleman, who stood at -De Coucy's feet, and who, during the count's question and the hermit's -somewhat ungracious reply, had been gazing at d'Auvergne with various -looks of recognition--"by my faith and my knighthood! I believe it is -the Count Thibalt--though my eyes are none of the clearest, and it is -long since--but, yes! it is surely--Count Thibalt d'Auvergne." - -"The same, _Beau Sire_," replied D'Auvergne; "my memory is less true -than yours, or I see my father's old arm's fellow, Count Julian of the -Mount." - -"E'en so, fair sir!--e'en so!" replied the old man: "I and my daughter -Isadore are even now upon our way to Vic le Comte to pass some short -space with the good count, your father. A long and weary journey have -we had hither, all the way from Flanders; and for our safe arrival we -go to offer at the chapel of Our Lady of St. Pavin of the Mount D'Or, -ere we proceed to taste your castle's hospitality. Good faith! you may -well judge 'tis matter of deep import brings me so far. Affairs of -policy, young sir--affairs of policy," he added in a low and -consequential voice. "Doubtless your father may have hinted--" - -"For five long years, fair sir, I have not seen my father's face," -replied D'Auvergne. "By the cross I bear, you may see where I have -sojourned; and De Coucy and myself were but now going to lay our palms -upon the altar of Our Lady of St. Pavin (according to a holy vow we -made at Rome), prior to turning our steps towards our castle also. Let -us all on together then--I see the holy hermit has commanded the -varlets to make a litter for my hurt friend; and after having paid our -vows, we will back to Vic le Comte, and honour your arrival with wine -and music." - -While this conversation passed between D'Auvergne and the old knight, -De Coucy's eyes had sought out more particularly the fair girl who had -been kneeling by his side, and he addressed to her much and manifold -thanks for her gentle tending--in so low a tone, however, that it -obliged her to stoop over him in order to hear what he said. De Coucy, -as he had before professed to the Count d'Auvergne, had often tasted -love, such as it was; and had ever been a bold wooer; but in the -present instance, though he felt very sure and intimately convinced, -that the eyes which now looked upon him were brighter than ever he had -seen, and the lips that spoke to him were fuller, and softer, and -sweeter, than ever had moved in his eyesight before, yet his stock of -gallant speeches failed him strangely, and he found some difficulty -even in thanking the lady as he could have wished. At all events, so -lame he thought the expression of those thanks, that he endeavoured to -make up for it by reiteration--and repeated them so often, that at -length the lady gently imposed silence upon him, lest his much -speaking might retard his cure. - -The secrets of a lady's breast are a sort of forbidden fruit, which we -shall not be bold enough to touch; and therefore, whatever the fair -Isadore might think of De Coucy--whatever touch of tenderness might -mingle with her pity--whatever noble and knightly qualities she might -see, or fancy, on his broad, clear brow, and bland, full lip--we shall -not even stretch our hand towards the tree of knowledge, far less -offer the fruit thereof to any one else. Overt acts, however, of all -kinds are common property; and therefore it is no violation of -confidence, or of any thing else, to say that something in the tone -and manner of the young knight made the soft crimson grow a shade -deeper in the cheek of Isadore of the Mount; and, when the litter was -prepared, and De Coucy placed thereon, though she proceeded with every -appearance of indifference to mount her light jennet, and follow the -cavalcade, she twice turned round to give a quick and anxious look -towards the litter, as it was borne down the narrow and slippery path -from the cave. - -Although that alone which passed between De Coucy and the lady has -been particularly mentioned here, it is not to be thence inferred that -all the other personages who were present stood idly looking on--that -the Count d'Auvergne took no heed of his hurt friend--that Sir Julian -of the Mount forgot his daughter, or that the attendants of the young -knight were unmindful of their master. Some busied themselves in -preparing the litter of boughs and bucklers--some spread cloaks and -furred aumuces upon it to make it soft--and some took care that the -haubert, head-piece, and sword, of which De Coucy had been divested, -should not be left behind in the cave. - -In the mean while. Sir Julian of the Mount pointed out his daughter to -the Count Thibalt d'Auvergne, boasted her skill in leech-craft, and -her many other estimable qualities, and assured him that he might -safely intrust the care of De Coucy's recovery to her. - -The Count d'Auvergne's eye fell coldly upon her, and ran over every -exquisite line of loveliness, as she stood by the young knight, -unconscious of his gaze, without evincing one spark of that gallant -enthusiasm which the sight of beauty generally called up in the -chivalrous bosoms of the thirteenth century. It was a cold, steady, -melancholy look--and yet it ended with a sigh. The only compliment he -could force his lips to form, went to express that his friend was -happy in having fallen into such fair and skilful hands; and, this -said, he proceeded to the side of the litter, which, borne by six of -the attendants, was now carried down to the bank of the stream, and -thence along the road that, winding onward through the narrow gorge, -passed under the broken bridge, and gradually climbed to the higher -parts of the mountain. - -The general cavalcade followed as they might; for the scantiness of -the path, which grew less and less as it proceeded, prevented the -possibility of any regularity in their march. At length, however, the -gorge widened out into a small basin of about five hundred yards in -diameter, round which the hills sloped up on every side, taking the -shape of a funnel. Over one edge thereof poured a small but beautiful -cascade, starting from mass to mass of volcanic rock, whose -decomposition offered a thousand bright and singular hues, amidst -which the white and flashing waters of the stream agitated themselves -with a strange but picturesque effect. - -At the bottom of the cascade was a group of shepherds' huts; and as it -was impossible for the horses to proceed farther, it was determined to -leave the principal part of the attendants also there, to wait the -return of the party from the chapel, which was, of course, to take -place as soon as De Coucy had recovered from his bruises. - -Some difficulty occurred in carrying the litter over the steeper part -of the mountain, but at length it was accomplished; and, skirting -round part of a large ancient forest, the pilgrims came suddenly on -the banks of that most beautiful and extraordinary effort of nature, -the _Lac Pavin_. Before their eyes extended a vast sheet of water, the -crystal pureness of which mocks all description, enclosed within a -basin of verdure, whose sides, nearly a hundred and fifty feet in -height, rise from the banks of the lake with so precipitous an -elevation, that no footing, however firm, can there keep its hold. For -the space of a league and a half, which the lake occupies, this -beautiful green border, with very little variation in its height, may -still be seen following the limpid line of the water, into which it -dips itself, clear, and at once, without rush or ooze, or water plant -of any description, to break the union of the soft turf and the pure -wave. - -Towards the south and east, however, extends, even now, an immense -mass of dark and sombre wood, which, skirting down the precipitous -bank, seems to contemplate its own majesty in the clear mirror of the -lake. At the same time, all around, rise up a giant family of mountain -peaks, which, each standing out abrupt and single in the sunny air, -seem frowning on the traveller that invades their solitude. - -Here, in the days of Philip Augustus, stood a small chapel dedicated -to the Virgin, called Our Lady of St. Pavin; and many a miraculous -cure is said to have been operated by the holy relics of the shrine, -which caused Our Lady of St. Pavin to be the favourite saint of many -of the chief families in France. By the side of the chapel was placed -a congregation of small huts or cells, both for the accommodation of -the various pilgrims who came to visit the shrine, and for the -dwelling of three holy hermits, one of whom served the altar as a -priest, while the other two retained the more amphibious character of -_simple recluse_, bound by no vows but such as they chose to impose -upon themselves. - -At these huts the travellers now paused; and after De Coucy had been -carried into one of them, the hermit, who had guided the travellers -thither, demanded of the Count d'Auvergne, whether any of his train -could draw a good bow, and wing a shaft well home. - -"They are all archers, good hermit," replied D'Auvergne; "see you not -their bows and quivers?" - -"Many a man wears a sword that cannot use it," replied the hermit in -the cynical tone which seemed natural to him. "Here, your very friend, -whom God himself has armed with eyes and ears, and even understanding, -such as it is, does he make use of any when he gallops down a -precipice, where he would surely have been killed, had it not been for -the aid and protection of a merciful Heaven, and a few stunted hazels? -Your archers may make as good use of their bows as he does of his -brains--and then what serves their archery? But, however, choose out -the best marksman; bid him go up to yonder peak, and take two -well-feathered arrows with him: he will shoot no more! Then send all -the rest to beat the valley to the right, with loud cries; the izzards -will instantly take to the heights. Let your archer choose as they -pass, and deliver me his arrows into the two fattest; (though God -knows! 'tis a crying sin to slay two wise beasts to save one foolish -man;) but let your vassal stay to make no _curée_, but bring the -beasts down here while the life-heat is still in them. Your friend, -wrapped in the fresh-flayed hides, shall be to-morrow as whole as if -he had never played the fool!" - -"I have seen it done at Byzantium," replied D'Auvergne, "when a good -knight of Flanders was hurled down from the south tower. It had a -marvellous effect:--we will about it instantly." - -Accordingly, two of the izzards, which were then common in Auvergne, -were soon slain in the manner the hermit directed; and De Coucy, -notwithstanding no small dislike to the remedy, was stripped, and -wrapped in the reeking hides[6]; after which, stretched upon a bed of -dry moss belonging to one of the hermits, he endeavoured to amuse -himself with thoughts of love and battles, while the rest went to pay -their vows at the shrine of Our Lady of St. Pavin. - - --------------------- - -[Footnote 6: This is no fantastic remedy, but one of the most -effectual the author of this work has ever seen employed. The skin of -a sheep, however, is not a whit less potent in its effects than the -skin of an izzard.] - --------------------- - - -De Coucy's mind soon wandered through all the battles, and -tournaments, and passes of arms that could possibly be fought; and -then his fancy, by what was in those days a very natural digression, -turned to love--and he thought of all the thousand ladies he had loved -in his life; and, upon recollecting all the separate charms of each, -he found that they were all very beautiful: he could not deny it. But -yet certainly, beyond all doubt, the fair Isadore of the Mount, with -her dark, dark eyes, and her clear, bland brow, and her mouth such as -angels smile with, was far more beautiful than any of them. - -But still De Coucy asked himself, why he could not tell her so? He had -never found it difficult to tell any one they were beautiful before; -or to declare that he loved them; or to ask them for a glove, or a -bracelet, or a token to fix on his helm, and be his second in the -battle: but now, he felt sure that he had stammered like a schoolboy, -and spoken below his voice, like a young squire to an old knight. So -De Coucy concluded, from all these symptoms, that he could not be in -love; and fully convinced thereof, he very naturally fell asleep. - - - - -CHAPTER IV. - -We must now change the scene, and, leaving wilds and mountains, come -to a more busy though still a rural view. From the small, narrow -windows of the ancient château of Compiègne might be seen, on the one -side, the forest with its ocean of green and waving boughs; and on the -other, a lively little town on the banks of the Oise, the windings of -which river could be traced from the higher towers, far beyond its -junction with the Aisne, into the distant country. Yet, -notwithstanding that it was a town, Compiègne scarcely detracted from -the rural aspect of the picture. It had, even in those days, its -gardens and its fruit-trees, which gave it an air of verdure, and -blended it, as it were, insensibly with the forest, that waved against -its very walls. The green thatches, too, of its houses, in which slate -or tile was unknown, covered with moss, and lichens, and flowering -houseleek, offered not the cold, stiff uniformity of modern roofs; and -the eye that looked down upon those constructions of art in its -earliest and rudest form found all the picturesque irregularity of -nature. - -Gazing from one of the narrow windows of a large square chamber, in -the keep of the château, were two beings, who seemed to be enjoying, -to the full, those bright hours of early affection, which are well -called "the summer days of existence," yielding flowers, and warmth, -and sunshine, and splendour;--hours that are so seldom known;--hours -that so often pass away like dreams;--hours which are such strangers -in courts, that, when they do intrude with their warm rays into the -cold precincts of a palace, history marks their coming as a -phenomenon, too often followed by a storm. - -Alone, in the solitude of that large chamber, those two beings were as -if in a world by themselves. The fair girl, seemingly scarce nineteen -years of age, with her light hair floating upon her shoulders in large -masses of shining curls, leaned her cheek upon her hand, and gazing -with her full, soft, blue eyes over the far extended landscape, -appeared lost in thought; while her other hand, fondly clasped in that -of her companion, pointed out, as it were, how nearly linked he was to -her seemingly abstracted thoughts. - -The other tenant of that chamber was a man of thirty-two or -thirty-three years of age, tall, well-formed, handsome, of the same -fair complexion as his companion, but bronzed by the manly florid hue -of robust health, exposure, and exercise. His nose was slightly -aquiline, his chin rounded and rather prominent, and his blue eyes -would have been fine and expressive, had they not been rather nearer -together than the just proportion, and stained, as it were on the very -iris, by some hazel spots in the midst of the blue. The effect, -however, of the whole was pleasing; and the very defect of the eyes, -by its singularity, gave something fine and distinguished to the -countenance; while their nearness, joined with the fire that shone out -in their glance, seemed to speak that keen and quick sagacity, which -sees and determines at once, in the midst of thick dangers and -perplexity. - -The expression, however, of those eyes was now calm and soft, while -sometimes holding her hand in his, sometimes playing with a crown of -wild roses he had put on his companion's head, he mingled one rich -curl after another with the green leaves and the blushing flowers; -and, leaning with his left arm against the embrasure of the window, -high above her head, as she sat gazing out upon the landscape, he -looked down upon the beautiful creature, through the mazes of whose -hair his other hand was straying, with a smile strangely mingled of -affection for her, and mockery of his own light employment. - -There was grace, and repose, and dignity, in his whole figure, and the -simple green hunting tunic which he wore, without robe, or hood, or -ornament whatever, served better to show its easy majesty, than would -the robes of a king--and yet this was Philip Augustus. - -"So pensive, sweet Agnes!" said he, after a moment's silence, thus -waking from her reverie the lovely Agnes de Meranie, whom he had -married shortly after the sycophant bishops of France had pronounced -the nullity of his unconsummated marriage with Ingerburge,[7] for whom -he had conceived the most inexplicable aversion:--"So pensive," he -said. "Where did those sweet thoughts wander?" - - --------------------- - -[Footnote 7: Philip Augustus, after the death of his first wife, being -still a very young man, married Ingerburge, sister of Canute, King of -Denmark; but on her arrival in France, he was seized with so strong a -personal dislike to her, that he instantly convoked a synod of the -clergy of France, who, on pretence of kindred in the prohibited -degrees, annulled the marriage. Philip afterwards married the -beautiful Agnes, or Mary, as she is called by some, daughter of the -Duke of Istria and Meranie, a district it would now be difficult to -define, but which comprehended the Tyrol and its dependencies, down to -the Adriatic.--See Rigord Gud. Brit. Lit. Innoc. III. Cart Philip II. -&c.] - --------------------- - - -"Far, far, my Philip!" replied the queen, leaning back her head upon -his arm, and gazing up in his face with a look of that profound, -unutterable affection, which _sometimes_ dwells in woman's heart for -her first and only love:--"far from this castle, and this court;--far -from Philip's splendid chivalry, and his broad realms, and his fair -cities; and yet with Philip still. I thought of my own father, and all -his tenderness and love for me; and of my own sweet Istria! and I -thought how hard was the fate of princes, that some duty always -separated them from some of those they love, and----" - -"And doubtless you wished to quit your Philip for those that you love -better," interrupted the king, with a smile at the very charge which -he well knew would soon be contradicted. - -"Oh, no! no!" replied Agnes; "but, as I looked out yonder, and thought -it was the way to Istria, I wished that my Philip was but a simple -knight, and I a humble demoiselle. Then should he mount his horse, and -I would spring upon my palfrey; and we would ride gaily back to my -native land, and see my father once again, and live happily with those -we loved." - -"But tell me, Agnes," said Philip, with a tone of melancholy that -struck her, "if you were told, that you might to-morrow quit me, and -return to your father, and your own fair land, would you not go?" - -"Would I quit you?" cried Agnes, starting up, and placing her two -hands upon her husband's arm, while she gazed in his face with a look -of surprise that had no small touch of fear in it:--"would I quit you? -Never! And if you drove me forth, I would come back and be your -servant--your slave; or would watch in the corridors but to have a -glance as you passed by;--or else I would die," she added, after a -moment's pause, for she had spoken with all the rapid energy of -alarmed affection. "But tell me, tell me, Philip, what did you mean? -For all your smiling, you spoke gravely. Nay, kisses are no answers." - -"I did but jest, my Agnes," replied Philip, holding her to his heart -with a fond pressure. "Part with you! I would sooner part with life!" - -As he spoke, the door of the chamber suddenly opened, the hangings -were pushed aside, and an attendant appeared. - -"How now," cried the king, unclasping his arms from the slight, -beautiful form round which they were thrown. "How now, villain! Must -my privacy be broken at every moment? How dare you enter my chamber -without my call?" And his flashing eye and reddened cheek spoke that -quick impatient spirit which never possessed any man's breast more -strongly than that of Philip Augustus. And yet, strange to say, the -powers of his mind were such, that every page of his history affords a -proof of his having made even his most impetuous passions subservient -to his policy;--not by conquering them, but by giving vent to them in -such direction as suited best the exigency of the times, and the -interest of his kingdom. - -"Sire," replied the attendant with a profound reverence, "the good -knight Sir Stephen Guerin has just arrived from Paris, and prays an -audience." - -"Admit him," said Philip; and his features, which had expanded like an -unstrung bow while in the gentler moments of domestic happiness, and -had flashed with the broad blaze of the lightning under the effect of -sudden irritation, gradually contracted into a look of grave thought -as his famous and excellent friend and minister Guerin approached. - -He was a tall, thin man, with strong marked features, and was dressed -in the black robe and eight-limbed cross of the order of Hospitallers, -which habit he retained even long after his having been elected bishop -of Senlis. He pushed back his hood, and bowed low in sign of reverence -as he approached the king; but Philip advanced to meet, and welcomed -him with the affectionate embrace of an equal, "Ha! fair brother!" -said the king. "What gives us the good chance of seeing you, from our -town of Paris? We left you full of weighty matters." - -"Matters of still greater weight, beau sire," replied the Hospitaller, -"claiming your immediate attention, have made me bold to intrude upon -your privacy. An epistle from the good pope Celestin came yesterday by -a special messenger, charging your highness----" - -"Hold!" cried Philip, raising his finger as a sign to keep silence. -"Come to my closet, brother; we will hear the good bishop's letter in -private.--Tarry, sweet Agnes! I have vowed thee three whole days, -without the weight of royalty bearing down our hearts; and this shall -not detain me long." - -"I would not, my lord, for worlds," replied the queen, "that men -should say my Philip neglected his kingdom, or his people's happiness, -for a woman's smile. I will wait here for your return, be your -business long as it may, and think the time well spent.--Rest you -well, fair brother," she added, as it were in reply to a beaming smile -that for a moment lighted up the harsh features of the hospitaller; -"cut not short your tale for me." - -The minister bowed low, and Philip, after having pressed his lips on -the fair forehead of his wife, led the way through a long passage with -windows on either side, to a small closet in one of the angular -turrets of the castle. It was well contrived for the cabinet of a -statesman, for, placed as it was, a sort of excrescence from one of -the larger towers, it was cut off from all other buildings, so that no -human ear could catch one word of any conversation which passed -therein. The monarch entered; and, making a sign to his minister to -close the door, he threw himself on a seat, and stretched forth his -hand, as if for the pontiff's letter. "Not a word before the queen!" -said he, taking the vellum from the hospitaller,--"not a word before -the queen, of all the idle cavilling of the Roman church. I would not, -for all the crowns of Charlemagne, that Agnes should dream of a flaw -in my divorce from Ingerburge--though that flaw be no greater a matter -than a moat in the sore eyes of the church of Rome.--But let me see! -What says Celestin?" - -"He threatens you, royal sir," replied the minister, "with -excommunication, and anathema, and interdict." - -"Pshaw!" cried Philip, with a contemptuous smile; "he has not vigour -enough to anathematise a flea! 'Tis a good mild priest; somewhat -tenacious of his church's rights,--for, let me tell thee, Stephen, had -I but craved my divorce from Rome, instead of from my bishops of -France, I should have heard no word of anathema or interdict. It was a -fault of policy, so far as my personal quiet is concerned; and there -might be somewhat of hasty passion in it too; but yet, good knight, -'twas not without forethought. The grasping church of Rome is -stretching out her thousand hands into all the kingdoms round about -her, and snatching, one by one, the prerogatives of the throne. The -time will come,--I see it well,--when the prelate's foot shall tread -upon the prince's crown; but I will take no step to put mine beneath -the scandal of St. Peter. No! though the everlasting buzzing of all -the crimson flies in the conclave should deafen me outright.--But let -me read." - -The hospitaller bowed, and silently studied the countenance of the -sovereign, while he perused the letter of the pontiff. Philip's -features, however, underwent no change of expression. His brow knit -slightly from the first; but no more than so far as to show attention -to what he was reading. His lip, too, maintained its contemptuous -curl; but that neither increased nor diminished; and when he had done, -he threw the packet lightly on the table, exclaiming--"Stingless! -stingless! The good prelate will hurt no one!" - -"Too true, sire," replied the impassable Guerin; "he will now hurt no -one, for he is dead." - -"St. Denis to boot!" cried the king. "Dead! Why told you it not -before!--Dead! When did he die?--Has the conclave met?--Have they gone -to election?--Whom have they adored.[8]--Who is the pope? Speak, -hospitaller! Speak!" - - --------------------- - -[Footnote 8: One of the four methods of electing a Pope is called by -_adoration_, which takes place when the first Cardinal who speaks -instantly (as is supposed by the movement of the Holy Ghost) does -reverence to the person he names, proclaiming him Pope, to which must -be added the instant suffrage of two-thirds of the assembled -conclave.] - --------------------- - - -"The holy conclave have elected the cardinal Lothaire, sire," replied -the knight. "Your highness has seen him here in France, as well as at -Rome: a man of a great and capacious mind." - -"Too great!--too great!" replied Philip thoughtfully. "He is no -Celistin. We shall soon hear more!" and, rising from his seat, he -paced the narrow space of his cabinet backwards and forwards for -several minutes; then paused, and placing one hand on his counsellor's -shoulder, he laid the forefinger of the other on his breast--"If I -could rely on my barons," said he emphatically,--"if I could rely on -my barons;--not that I do not reverence the church, Guerin,--God -knows! I would defend it from heathens and heretics, and miscreants, -with my best blood. Witness my journey to the Holy Land!--witness the -punishment of Amaury!--witness the expulsion of the Jews! But this -Lothaire----" - -"Now Innocent the Third!" said the minister, taking advantage of a -pause in the king's speech. "Why he is a great man, sire--a man of a -vast and powerful mind: firm in his resolves, as he is bold in his -undertakings--powerful--beloved. I would have my royal lord think what -must be his conduct, if Innocent should take the same view of the -affairs of France as was taken by Celestin." - -Philip paused, and, with his eyes bent upon the ground, remained for -several minutes in deep thought. Gradually the colour mounted in his -cheek, and some strong emotion seemed struggling in his bosom, for his -eye flashed, and his lip quivered; and, suddenly catching the arm of -the hospitaller, he shook the clenched fist of his other hand in the -air, exclaiming--"He will not! He shall not! He dare not!--Oh, Guerin, -if I may but rely upon my barons!" - -"Sire, you cannot do so," replied the knight firmly. "They are -turbulent and discontented; and the internal peace of your kingdom has -more to fear from their disloyal practices, than even your domestic -peace has from the ambitious intermeddling of pope Innocent. You must -not count upon your barons, sire, to support you in opposition to the -church. Even now. Sir Julian of the Mount, the sworn friend of the -Counts of Boulogne and Flanders, has undertaken a journey to Auvergne, -which bodes a new coalition against you, sire. Sir Julian is -discontented, because you refused him the feof of Beaumetz, which was -held by his sister's husband, dead without heirs. The Count de -Boulogne you know to be a traitor. The count of Flanders was ever a -dealer in rebellion. The old Count d'Auvergne, though no rebel, loves -you not." - -"They will raise a lion!" cried the king, stamping with his foot--"ay, -they will raise a lion! Let Sir Julian of the Mount beware! The -citizens of Albert demand a charter. Sir Julian claims some ancient -rights. See that the charter be sealed to-morrow, Guerin, giving them -right of watch and ward, and wall--rendering them an untailleable and -free commune. Thus shall we punish good Sir Julian of the Mount, and -flank his fair lands with a free city, which shall be his annoyance, -and give us a sure post upon the very confines of Flanders. See it be -done! As to the rest, come what may, my private happiness I will -subject to no man's will; nor shall it be my hands that stoop the -royal sceptre of France to the bidding of any prelate for whom the -earth finds room.--Silence, my friend!" he added sharply; "the king's -resolve is taken; and, above all, let not a doubt of the sureness of -her marriage reach the ears of the queen. _I_, Philip of France, say -the divorce _shall_ stand!--and who is there shall give me the lie in -my own land?" Thus saying, the king turned, and led the way back to -the apartment where he had left the queen. - -His first step upon the rushes of the room in which she sat woke Agnes -de Meraine from her reverie; and though her husband's absence had been -but short, her whole countenance beamed with pleasure at his return; -while, laying on his arm the small white hand, which even monks and -hermits have celebrated, she gazed up in his face, as if to see -whether the tidings he had heard had stolen any thing from the -happiness they were before enjoying. Philip's eyes rested on her, full -of tenderness and love; and then turned to his minister with an -appealing, and almost reproachful look. Guerin felt, himself, how -difficult, how agonising it would be to part with a being so lovely -and so beloved; and with a deep sigh, and a low inclination to the -queen, he quitted the apartment. - - - - -CHAPTER V. - - -In Auvergne, but in a different part of it from that where we left our -party of pilgrims, rode onward a personage who seemed to think, with -Jacques, that motley is the only wear. Not that he was precisely -habited in the piebald garments of the professed fool; but yet his -dress was as many coloured as the jacket of my ancient friend -harlequin; and so totally differed from the vestments of that age, -that it seemed as if he had taken a jump of two or three centuries, -and stolen some gay habit from the court of Charles the Seventh. He -wore long tight silk breeches, of a bright flame-colour; a sky-blue -cassock of cloth girt round his waist by a yellow girdle, below which -it did not extend above three inches, forming a sort of frill about -his middle; while, at the same time, this sort of surcoat being -without sleeves, his arms appeared from beneath covered with a jacket -of green silk, cut close to his shape, and buttoned tight at the -wrists. On his head he wore a black cap, not unlike the famous -Phrygian bonnet; and he was mounted on a strong grey mare, then -considered a ridiculous and disgraceful equipage. - -This strange personage's figure no way corresponded with his absurd -dress; for, had one desired a model of active strength, it could -nowhere have been found better than in his straight and muscular -limbs. His face, however, was more in accordance with the extravagance -of his habiliments; for, certainly, never did a more curious -physiognomy come from the cunning and various hand of Nature. His nose -was long, and was seemingly boneless; for, ever and anon, whether from -some natural convulsive motion, or from a voluntary and laudable -desire to improve upon the singular hideousness of his countenance, -this long, sausage-like contrivance in the midst of his face would -wriggle from side to side, with a very portentous and uneasy movement. -His eyes were large and grey, and did not in the least discredit the -nose in whose company they were placed, though they had in themselves -a manifest tendency to separate, never having any fixed and determined -direction, but wandering about apparently independent of each -other,--sometimes far asunder,--sometimes, like Pyramus and Thisbe, -wooing each other across the wall of his nose with a most portentous -squint. Besides this obliquity, they were endowed with a cold, -leadenness of stare, which would have rendered the whole face as -meaningless as a mask, had not, every now and then, a still, keen, -sharp glance stolen out of them for a moment, like the sudden kindling -up of a fire where all seems cold and dead. His mouth was guarded with -large thick lips, which extended far and wide through a black and -bushy beard; and, when he yawned, which was more than once the case, -as he rode through the fertile valleys of Limagne, a great chasm -seemed to open in his countenance, exposing, to the very back, two -ranges of very white, broad teeth, with their accompanying gums. - -For some way, the traveller rode on in quiet, seeming to exercise -himself in giving additional ugliness to his features, by screwing -them into every sort of form, till he became aware that he was watched -by a party of men, whose appearance had nothing in it very consolatory -to the journeyer of those days. - -The road through the valley was narrow; the hills, rising rapidly on -each side, were steep and rugged; and the party which we have -mentioned was stationed at some two or three hundred yards before him, -consisting of about ten or twelve archers, who, lurking behind a mass -of stones and bushes, seemed prepared to impose a toll upon the -highway through the valley. - -The traveller, however, pursued his journey, though he very well -comprehended their aim and object, nor did he exhibit any sign of fear -or alarm beyond the repeated wriggling of his nose, till such time as -he beheld one of the foremost of the group begin to fit an arrow to -his bowstring, and take a clear step beyond the bushes. Then, suddenly -reversing his position on the horse, which was proceeding at an easy -canter, he placed his head on the saddle, and his feet in the air; and -in this position advanced quietly on his way, not at all unlike one of -those smart and active gentlemen who may be seen nightly in the -spring-time circumambulating the area of Astley's Amphitheatre. - -The feat which he performed, however simple and legitimate at present, -was quite sufficiently extraordinary in those days, to gain him the -reputation of a close intimacy with Satan, even if it did not make him -pass for Satan himself. - -The thunderstruck archer dropped his arrow, exclaiming, "'Tis the -devil!" to which conclusion most of his companions readily assented. -Nevertheless, one less ceremonious than the rest started forward and -bent his own bow for the shot. "If he be the devil," cried he, "the -more reason to give him an arrow in his liver: what matters it to us -whether he be devil or saint, so he have a purse?" As he spoke, he -drew his bow to the full extent of his arm, and raised the arrow to -his eye. But at the very moment the missile twanged away from the -string, the strange horseman we have described let himself fall -suddenly across his mare, much after the fashion of a sack of wheat, -and the arrow whistled idly over him. Then, swinging himself up again -into his natural position, he turned his frightful countenance to the -_routiers_, and burst into a loud horse-laugh that had something in -its ringing coppery tone truly unearthly. - -"Fools!" cried he, riding close up to the astonished plunderers. "Do -you think to hurt me? Why, I am your patron saint, the Devil. Do not -you know your lord and master? But, poor fools, I will give you a -morsel. Lay ye a strong band between Vic le Comte and the lake Pavin, -and watch there till ye see a fine band of pilgrims coming down. Skin -them! skin them, if ye be true thieves. Leave them not a besant to -bless themselves!" - -Here one of the thieves, moved partly by a qualm of conscience, partly -by bodily fear at holding a conversation with a person he most -devoutly believed to be the Prince of Darkness, signed himself with -the cross,--an action, not at all unusual amongst the plunderers of -that age, who, so far from casting off the bonds of religion at the -same time that they threw off all the other ties of civil society, -were often but the more superstitious and credulous from the very -circumstances of their unlawful trade. However, no sooner did the -horseman see the sign, than he affected to start. "Ha!" cried he. "You -drive me away; but we shall meet again, good friends--we shall meet -again, and trust me, I will give you a warm reception. Haw, haw, haw, -haw!" and, contorting his face into a most horrible grin, he poured -forth one of his fiendlike laughs, and galloped off at full speed. - -"Jesu Maria!" cried one of the routiers, "it is the fiend certainly--I -will give him an arrow, for heaven's benison!" But whether it was that -the bowman's hand trembled, or that the horseman was too far distant, -certain it is, he rode on in safety, and did not even know that he had -been again shot at. - -"I will give the half of the first booty I make to our lady of Mount -Ferrand," cried one of the robbers, thinking to appease Heaven and -guard against Satan, by sharing the proceeds of his next breach of the -decalogue with the priest of his favourite saint. - -"And I will lay out six sous of Paris on a general absolution!" cried -another, whose faith was great in the potency of papal authority. - -But, leaving these gentry to arrange their affairs with Heaven as they -thought fit, we must follow for a time the person they mistook for -their spiritual enemy, and must also endeavour to develope what was -passing in his mind, which really did in some degree find utterance; -he being one of those people whose lips--those ever unfaithful -guardians of the treasures of the heart--are peculiarly apt to murmur -forth unconsciously, that on which the mind is busy. His thoughts -burst from him in broken murmured sentences, somewhat to the following -effect:--"What matters it to me who is killed!--Say the villains kill -the men-at-arms.--Haw, haw! haw, haw! 'Twill be rare sport!--And then -we will strip them, and I shall have gold, gold, gold! But the -men-at-arms will kill the villains. I care not! I will help to kill -them:--then I shall get gold too.--Haw, haw, haw! The villains -plundered some rich merchants yesterday, and I will plunder them -to-morrow. Oh, rare! Then, that Thibalt of Auvergne may be killed in -the _melée_, with his cold look and his sneer.--Oh! how I shall like -to see that lip, that called me _De Coucy's fool juggler_,--how I -shall like to see it grinning with death! I will have one of his white -fore-teeth for a mouth-piece to my reed flute, and one of his arm -bones polished, to whip tops withal.--Haw, haw, haw! De Coucy's fool -juggler!--Haw, haw! haw, haw! Ay, and my good Lord de Coucy!--the -beggarly miscreant. He struck me, when I had got hold of a lord's -daughter at the storming of Constantinople, and forbade me to show her -violence.--Haw, haw! I paid him for meddling with my plunder, by -stealing his; and, because I dared not carry it about, buried it in a -field at Naples:--but I owe him the blow yet. It shall be paid!--Haw, -haw, haw! Shall I tell him now the truth of what he sent me to -Burgundy for? No, no, no! for then he'll sit at home at ease, and be a -fine lord; and I shall be thrust into the kitchen, and called for, to -amuse the noble knights and dames.--Haw, haw! No, no! he shall wander -yet awhile; but I must make up my tale." And the profundity of thought -into which he now fell, put a stop to his solitary loquacity; though -ever and anon, as the various fragments of roguery, and villany, and -folly, which formed the strange chaos of his mind, seemed, as it were, -to knock against each other in the course of his cogitations, he would -leer about, with a glance in which shrewdness certainly predominated -over idiotcy, or would loll his tongue forth from his mouth, and, -shutting one of his eyes, would make the other take the whole circuit -of the earth and sky around him, as if he were mocking the universe -itself; and then, at last, burst out into a long, shrill, ringing -laugh, by the tone of which it was difficult to tell whether it -proceeded from pain or from mirth. - - - - -CHAPTER VI. - - -The hermit was as good as his word; and in two days De Coucy, though -certainly unable to forget that he had had a severe fall, was yet -perfectly capable of mounting on horseback; and felt that, in the -field or at the tournament, he could still have charged a good lance, -or wielded a heavy mace. The night before, had arrived at the chapel -the strange personage, some of whose cogitations we have recorded in -the preceding chapter; and who, having been ransomed by the young -knight in the holy land, had become in some sort his bondsman. - -On a mistaken idea of his folly, De Coucy had built a still more -mistaken idea of his honesty, attributing his faults to madness, and -in the carelessness of his nature, looking upon many of his madnesses -as virtues. That his intellect was greatly impaired, or rather warped, -there can be no doubt; but it seemed, at the same time, that all the -sense which he had left, had concentrated itself into an unfathomable -fund of villany and malice, often equally uncalled for by others, and -unserviceable to himself. - -Originally one of the jugglers who had accompanied the second crusade -to the Holy Land, he had been made prisoner by the infidels; and, -after several years' bondage, had been redeemed by De Coucy, who, from -mere compassion, treated him with the greater favour and kindness, -because he was universally hated and avoided by every one; though, to -say the truth, _Gallon the fool_, as he was called, was perfectly -equal to hold his own part, being vigorous in no ordinary degree, -expert at all weapons, and joining all the thousand tricks and arts of -his ancient profession, to the sly cunning which so often supplies the -place of judgment. - -When brought into his lord's presence at the chapel of the Lake, and -informed of the accident which had happened to him, without expressing -any concern, he burst into one of his wild laughs, exclaiming, "Haw, -haw, haw!--Oh, rare!" - -"How now. Sir Gallon the fool!" cried De Coucy. "Do you laugh at your -lord's misfortune?" - -"Nay! I laugh to think him nearly as nimble as I am," replied the -juggler, "and to find he can roll down a rock of twenty fathom, -without dashing his brains out. Why, thou art nearly good enough for a -minstrel's fool. Sire de Coucy!--Haw, haw, haw! How I should like to -see thee tumbling before a _cour plenière!_" - -The knight shook his fist at him, and bade him tell the success of his -errand, feeling more galled by the jongleur's jest before the fair -Isadore of the Mount, than he had ever felt upon a similar occasion. - -"The success of my errand is very unsuccessful," replied the jongleur, -wagging his nose, and shutting one of his eyes, while he fixed the -other on De Coucy's face. "Your uncle, Count Gaston of Tankerville, -will not send you a livre." - -"What! is he pinched with avarice?" cried De Coucy. "Have ten years -had power to change a free and noble spirit to the miser's griping -slavery? My curse upon time! for he not only saps our castles, and -unbends out sinews, but he casts down the bulwarks of the mind, and -plunders all the better feelings of our hearts. What say you, lady, is -he not a true coterel--that old man with his scythe and hour-glass?" - -"He is a bitter enemy, but a true one," replied Isadore of the Mount. -"He comes not upon us without warning.--But your man seems impatient -to tell out his tale, sir knight; at least, so I read the faces he -makes." - -"Bless your sweet lips!" cried the jongleur; "you are the first, that -ever saw my face, that called me man. _Devil_ or _fool_ are the best -names that I get. Prithee, marry my master, and then I shall be _your_ -man." - -De Coucy's heart beat thick at the associations which the juggler's -words called up; and the tell-tale blood stole over the fair face of -Isadore of the Mount; while old Sir Julian laughed loud, and called it -a marvellous good jest. - -"Come!" cried De Coucy, "leave thy grimaces, and tell me, what said my -uncle? Why would he not send the sums I asked?" - -"He said nothing," replied the juggler. "Haw, haw haw!--He said -nothing, because he is dead, and----" - -"Hold! hold!" cried De Coucy;--"Dead! God help me, and I taxed him -with avarice. Fool, thou hast made me sin against his memory. How did -he die?--when--where?" - -"Nobody knows when--nobody knows where--nobody knows how!" replied the -juggler with a grin which he could not suppress at his master's grief. -"All they know is, that he is as dead as the saints at Jerusalem; and -the king and the Duke of Burgundy are quarrelling about his broad -lands, which the two fools call moveables! He is dead!--quite -dead!--Haw, haw, haw! Haw, haw!" - -"Laughest thou, villain!" cried De Coucy, starting up, and striking -him a buffet which made him reel to the other side of the hut. "Let -that teach thee not to laugh where other men weep!--By my life," he -added, taking his seat again, "he was as noble a gentlemen, and as -true a knight, as ever buckled on spurs. He promised that I should be -his heir, and doubtless he has kept his word; but, for all the fine -lands he has left me--nay, nor for broad France itself, would I have -heard the news that have reached me but now!" - -"Haw, haw, haw! Haw, haw, haw!" echoed from the other side of the hut. - -"Why laughest thou, fool?" cried De Coucy. "Wilt thou never cease thy -idiot merriment?--Why laughest thou, I say?" - -"Because," replied the jongleur, "if the fair lands thou wouldst not -have, the fair lands thou shalt not have. The good Count of -Tankerville left neither will nor charter; so that, God willing! the -king, or the Duke of Burgundy, shall have the lands, whichever has the -longest arm to take, and the strongest to keep. So the Vidame of -Besançon bade me say." - -"But how is it, my son," said the hermit, who was present, "that you -are not heir direct to your uncle's feof, if there be no other heirs." - -"Why, good hermit," replied De Coucy, "uncle and nephew were but names -of courtesy between us, because we loved each other. The Count de -Tankerville married my father's sister, who died childless; and his -affection seemed to settle all in me, then just an orphan. I left him -some ten years ago, when but a squire, to take the holy cross; and -though I have often heard of him by letter and by message sent across -the wide seas, which showed that I was not forgotten, I now return and -find him dead, and his lands gone to others. Well! let them go: 'tis -not for them I mourn; 'tis that I have lost the best good friend I -had." - -"You wrong my regard, De Coucy," said the Count d'Auvergne. "None is or -was more deeply your friend than Thibalt d'Auvergne; and as to lands -and gold, good knight, is not one half of all I have due to the man -who has three times saved my life?--in the shipwreck, in the -battle-field, and in the mortal plague; even were he not my sworn -brother in arms?" - -"Nay, nay! D'Auvergne, De Coucy's poor," replied the knight; "but he -has enough. He is proud too, and, as you know, no Vavassour; and, -though his lands be small, he is lord of the soil, holding from no -one, owing homage and man-service to none--no, not to the king, though -you smile, fair Sir Julian. My land is the last _terre libre_ in -France." - -"Send away your fool juggler, De Coucy," said the Count d'Auvergne: "I -would speak to you without his goodly presence." - -De Coucy made a sign to his strange attendant, who quitted the hut; -and the count proceeded. "De Coucy," said he, "was it wise to send -that creature upon an errand of such import? Can you rely upon his -tale? You know him to be a crackbrained knave. I am sure he has much -malice; and though little understanding, yet infinite cunning. Take my -advice! Either go thither yourself, or send some more trusty messenger -to ascertain the truth." - -"Not I!" cried De Coucy,--"not I! I will neither go nor send, to make -the good folks scoff, at the poor De Coucy hankering after estates he -cannot have; like a beggar standing by a rich man's kitchen, and -snuffing the dishes as they pass him by. Besides, you do Gallon wrong. -He is brave as a lion, and grateful for kindness. He would not injure -me; and if he would, he has not wit to frame a tale like that. He knew -not that I was not my uncle's lawful heir. Oh, no, 'tis true! 'tis -true! So let it rest. What care I? I have my lance, and my sword, and -knightly spurs; and surely I may thus go through the world, in spite -of fortune." - -D'Auvergne saw that his friend was determined, and urged his point no -farther. His own determination, however, was taken, on the very first -opportunity to go himself privately, either to Besançon or Dijon, -between which places the estates in question lay, and to make those -inquiries for his friend which De Coucy was not inclined to do -himself. Nothing more occurred that night worthy of notice; and the -next morning the whole party descended to the shepherd's hut, where -their horses had been left, mounted, and proceeded towards Vic le -Comte, the dwelling of the Counts of Auvergne. - -The hermit, whose skill had been so serviceable to De Coucy, mounted -on a strong mule, accompanied them on their way. - -"I will crave your escort, gentle knights," he said, as they were -about to depart. "I am called back against my will, to meddle with the -affairs of men--affairs which their own wilful obstinacy, their vile -passions, or their gross follies, ever so entangle, that it needs the -manifest hand of Heaven to lead them even through one short life. I -thought to have done with them; but the king calls for me, and, next -to Heaven, my duty is to him." - -"What! do we see the famous hermit of the forest of Vincennes?"[9] -demanded old sir Julian of the Mount, "by whose sage counsels 'tis -hoped that Philip may yet be saved from driving his poor vassals to -resistance." - - --------------------- - -[Footnote 9: For a fuller account of this singular person, and the -effect his counsels had upon the conduct of Philip Augustus, see -Rigord.] - --------------------- - - -"Famous, and a hermit!" exclaimed the recluse. "Good, my son! if you -sought fame as little as I do, you would not have come from the -borders of Flanders to the heart of Auvergne. I left Vincennes to rid -myself of the fame they put on me;--you quitted your castle and your -peasants, to meddle in affairs you are not fit for. Would you follow -my counsel, you would forget your evil errand. See your friend--but as -a friend; and, returning to your hall, sit down in peace and charity -with all mankind!" - -"Ha! what! how?" cried the obstinate old man angrily, all his -complaisant feelings towards the hermit turned into acrimony by this -unlucky speech. "Shall I be turned from my purpose by an old -enthusiast? I tell thee, hermit, that were it but because thou bidst -me not, I would go on to the death! Heaven's life! What I have said, -that I will do, is as immoveable as the centre!" - -The Count d'Auvergne here interposed; and, promising the hermit safe -escort, at least through his father's territories, he led Sir Julian -to the front of the cavalcade, and engaged him in a detail of all the -important measures which Philip Augustus, during the last five years, -had undertaken, and successfully carried through by the advice of that -very hermit who followed in their train--measures with which this -history has nothing to do, but which may be found faithfully recorded -by Rigord, Wilham the Briton, and William of Nangis, as well as many -other veracious historians of that age and country. - -Sir Julian and the count were followed by the fair Isadore, with De -Coucy by her side, in even a more gay and lively mood than ordinary, -notwithstanding the sad news he had heard the night before. Indeed, to -judge from his conduct then, it would have seemed that his mind was -one of those which, deeply depressed by any of those heavy weights -that time is always letting drop upon the human heart, rise up the -next moment with that sort of elastic rebound, which instantly casts -off the load of care, and spring higher than before. Such, however, -was not the case. De Coucy was perplexed with new sensations towards -Isadore, the nature of which he did not well understand; and, rather -than show his embarrassment, he spoke lightly of every thing, making -himself appear to the least advantage, where, in truth, he wished the -most to please. - -Isadore's answers were brief, and he felt that he was not at all in -the right road to her favour: and yet he was going on, when something -accidentally turned the conversation to the friend he had lost in the -Count de Tankerville. Happily for Isadore's prepossession in the young -knight's favour, it did so; for then, all the deeper, all the finer -feelings of his heart awoke, and he spoke of high qualities and -generous virtues, as one who knew them from possessing them himself. -Isadore's answers grew longer: the chain seemed taken off her -thoughts,--and then, first, that quick and confident communication of -feelings and ideas began between her and De Coucy, which, sweet -itself, generally ends in something sweeter still. They were soon -entirely occupied with each other, and might have continued so, Heaven -knows how long! had not De Coucy's squire, Hugo de Barre, who, as -before, preceded the cavalcade, suddenly stopped, and, pointing to a -confused mass of bushes which, climbing the side of the hill, hid the -farther progress of the road, exclaimed-- - -"I see those bushes, move the contrary way to the wind!" - -"Haw, haw, haw!" cried a voice from behind,--"haw, haw, haw!" - -All was now hurry, for the signs and symptoms which the squire -descried, were only attributable to one of those plundering -ambuscades, which were any thing but rare in those good old times; and -the narrowness of road, together with the obstruction of the bushes, -totally prevented the knights from estimating the number or quality of -their enemies. All then was hurry. The squires hastened forward to -give the knights their heavy-armed horses, and to clasp their casques; -and the knights vociferated loudly for the archers and varlets to -advance, and for Isadore and her women to retire to the rear: but -before this could be done, a flight of arrows began to drop amongst -them, and one would have certainly struck the lady, or at least her -jennet, had it not been for the shield of De Coucy, raised above her -head. - -De Coucy paused. "Take my shield," he cried, "Gallon the fool, and -hold it over the lady! Guard my lance too! There is no tilting against -those bushes!--St. Michael! St. Michael!" he shouted, snatching his -ponderous battle-axe from the saddle-bow, and flourishing it round his -head, as if it had been a willow-wand. "A Coucy! A Coucy! St. Michael! -St. Michael!" and while the archers of Auvergne shot a close sharp -flight of arrows into the bushes, De Coucy spurred on his horse after -the Count d'Auvergne, who had advanced with Sir Julian of the Mount, -and some of the light armed squires. - -His barbed horse thundered over the ground, and in an instant he was -by their side, at a spot where the marauders had drawn a heavy iron -chain across the road, from behind which they numbered with their -arrows every seemingly feeble spot in the count's armour. - -To leap the chain was impossible; and though Count Thibalt spurred his -heavy horse against it, to bear it down, all his efforts were -ineffectual. One blow of De Coucy's axe, however, and the chain flew -sharp asunder with a ringing sound. His horse bounded forward; and his -next blow lighted on the head of one of the chief marauders, cleaving -through steel cap, and skull, and brain, as if nothing had been -opposed to the axe's edge. - -It was then one might see how were performed those marvellous feats of -chivalry, which astonish our latter age. The pikes, the short swords, -and the arrows of the cotereaux, turned from the armour of the -knights, as waves from a rock; while De Coucy, animated with the -thought that Isadore's eyes looked upon his deeds, out-acted all his -former prowess;--not a blow fell from his arm, but the object of it -lay prostrate in the dust. The cotereaux scattered before him, like -chaff before the wind. The Count d'Auvergne followed on his track, -and, with the squires, drove the whole body of marauders, which had -occupied the road, down into the valley; while the archers picked off -those who had stationed themselves on the hill. - -For an instant, the cotereaux endeavoured to rally behind some bushes, -which rendered the movements of the horses both dangerous and -difficult; but at that moment a loud ringing "Haw, haw, haw! haw, -haw!" burst forth from behind them; and Gallon the fool, mounted on -his mare, armed with De Coucy's lance and shield, and a face whose -frightfulness was worth a host, pricked in amongst them; and, to use -the phrase of the times, enacted prodigies of valour, shouting between -each stroke, "Haw, haw! haw, haw!" with such a tone of fiendish -exultation, that De Coucy himself could hardly help thinking him akin -to Satan. As to the cotereaux, the generality of them believed in his -diabolical nature with the most implicit faith; and, shouting "The -devil!--The devil!" as soon as they saw him, fled in every direction, -by the rocks, the woods, and the mountains. One only stayed to aim an -arrow at him, exclaiming, "Devil! he's no devil, but a false traitor -who has brought us to the slaughter, and I will have his heart's blood -ere I die." But Gallon, by one of his strange and unaccountable -twists, avoided the shaft; and the coterel was fain to save himself by -springing up a steep rock with all the agility of fear. - -No sooner was this done, than Gallon the fool, with that avaricious -propensity, to which persons in a state of intellectual weakness are -often subject, sprang from his mare, and very irreverently casting -down De Coucy's lance and shield, began plundering the bodies of two -of the dead cotereaux, leaving them not a rag which he could -appropriate to himself. - -Seeing him in this employment, and the disrespectful treatment which -he showed his arms, De Coucy spurred up to him, and raised his -tremendous axe above his head: "Gallon!" cried he, in a voice of -thunder. - -The jongleur looked up with a grin, "Haw, haw! haw, haw!" cried he, -seeing the battle-axe swinging above his head, as if in the very act -of descending. "You cannot make me wink.--Haw, haw!" And he applied -himself again to strip the dead bodies with most indefatigable -perseverance. - -"If it were not for your folly, I would cleave your skull, for daring -to use my lance and shield!" cried De Coucy. "But, get up! get up!" he -added, striking him a pretty severe blow with the back of the axe. -"Lay not there, like a red-legged crow, picking the dead bodies. Where -is the lady? Why did you leave her, when I told you to stay?" - -"I left the lady, with her maidens, in a snug hole in the rock," -replied the juggler, rising unwillingly from his prey; "and seeing you -at work with the cotereaux, I came to help the strongest." - -There might be more truth in this reply than De Coucy suspected; but, -taken as a jest, it turned away his anger; and bidding Hugo de Barre, -who had approached, bring his spear and shield, he rode back to the -spot where the combat first began. Gallon the fool had, indeed, as he -said, safely bestowed Isadore and her women in one of the caves with -which the mountains of Auvergne are pierced in every direction; and -here De Coucy found her, together with her father. Sir Julian, who was -babbling of an arrow which had passed through his tunic without -hurting him. - -The Count d'Auvergne had gone, in the mean time, to ascertain that the -road was entirely cleared of the banditti; and, during his absence, -the lady and her attendants applied themselves to bind up the wounds -of one or two of the archers who had been hurt in the affray--a purely -female task, according to the customs of the times. The hermit -returned with the Count d'Auvergne; and, though he spoke not of it, it -was remarked that an arrow had grazed his brow; and two rents in his -brown robe seemed to indicate that, though he had taken no active part -in the struggle, he had not shunned its dangers. - -Such skirmishes were so common in those days, that the one we speak of -would have been scarcely worth recording, had it not been for two -circumstances: in the first place, the effect produced upon the -robbers by the strange appearance and gestures of Gallon the fool; and -in the next, the new link which it brought between the hearts of -Isadore and De Coucy. In regard to the first, it must be remembered -that the appearance of all sorts of evil spirits in an incarnate form -was so very frequent in the times whereof we speak, that Rigord cites -at least twenty instances thereof, and Guillaume de Nangis brings a -whole troop of them into the very choir of the church. It is not to be -wondered at, then, that a band of superstitious marauders, whose very -trade would of course render them more liable to such diabolical -visitations, should suspect so very ugly a personage as Gallon of -being the Evil One himself: especially when to his various -unaccountable contortions he added the very devil-like act of leading -them into a scrape, and then triumphing in their defeat. - -But to return to the more respectable persons of my cavalcade. The -whole party set out again, retaining, as if by common consent, the -same order of march which they had formerly preserved. Nor did -Isadore, though as timid and feminine as any of her sex in that day, -show greater signs of fear than a hasty glance, every now and then, to -the mountains. A slight shudder, too, shook her frame, as she passed -on the road three cold, inanimate forms, lying unlike the living, and -bearing ghastly marks of De Coucy's battle-axe; but the very sight -made her draw her rein towards him, as if from some undefined -combination in her mind of her own weakness and his strength; and from -the tacit admiration which courage and power command in all ages, but -which, in those times, suffered no diminution on the score of -humanity. - -No lady, of the rank of Isadore of the Mount, ever travelled, in the -days we speak of, without a bevy of maidens following her; and as the -squires and pages of De Coucy and D'Auvergne were fresh from -Palestine, where women were hot-house plants, not exposed to common -eyes, it may be supposed that we could easily join to our principal -history many a rare and racy episode of love-making that went on in -the second rank of our pilgrims; but we shall have enough to do with -the personages already before us, ere we lay down our pen, and -therefore shall not meddle or make with the manners of the inferior -classes, except where they are absolutely forced on our notice. - -Winding down through numerous sunny valleys and rich and beautiful -scenery, the cavalcade soon began to descend upon the fertile plains -of Limagne, then covered with the blossoms of a thousand trees, and -bathed in a flood of loveliness. The ferry over the Allier soon landed -them in the sweet valley of Vic le Comte; and Thibalt d'Auvergne, -gazing round him, forgot in the view all the agonies of existence; -while stretching forth his arms, as if to embrace it, he -exclaimed--"My native land!" - -He had seen the south of Auvergne; he had seen, the mountains of D'Or, -and the Puy de Dome,--all equally his own; but they spoke but -generally to his heart, and could not for a moment wipe out his -griefs. But when the scenes of his childhood broke upon his sight; -when he beheld every thing mingled in memory with the first, sweetest -impressions in being--every thing he had known and joyed in, before -existence had a cloud, it seemed as if the last five years had been -blotted out of the Book of Fate, and that he was again in the -brightness of his youth--the youth of the heart and of the soul, ere -it is worn by sorrow, or hardened by treachery, or broken by -disappointment. - -The valley of Vic is formed by two branches of the mountains of the -Forez, which bound it to the east; and in the centre of the rich plain -land thus enclosed, stands the fair city of Vic le Comte. It was then -as sweet a town as any in the realm of France; and, gathered together -upon a gentle slope, with the old castle on a high mound behind, it -formed a dark pyramid in the midst of the sunshiny valley, being cast -into temporary shadow by a passing cloud at the moment the cavalcade -approached; while the bright light of the summer evening poured over -all the rest of the scene; and the blue mountains, rising high beyond, -offered a soft and airy background to the whole. Avoiding the town. -Count Thibalt led the way round by a road to the right, and, in a few -minutes, they were opposite to the castle, at the distance of about -half a mile. - -It was a large, heavy building, consisting of an infinite number of -towers, of various sizes, and of different forms--some round, some -square, all gathered together, without any apparent order, on the top -of an eminence which commanded the town. The platform of each tower, -whether square or round, was battlemented, and every angle which -admitted of such a contrivance was ornamented with a small turret or -watch-tower, which generally rose somewhat higher than the larger one -to which it was attached. Near the centre of the building, however, -rose two masses of masonry, distinguished from all the others,--the -one by its size, being a heavy, square tower, or keep, four times as -large as any of the rest; and the other by its height, rising, thin -and tall, far above every surrounding object. This was called the -beffroy, or belfry, and therein stood a watchman night and day, ready, -on the slightest alarm, to sound his horn, or ring the immense bell, -called _ban cloque_, which was suspended above his head. - -From the gate of the castle to the walls of the town extended a gentle -green slope, which, now covered with tents and booths, resembled -precisely an English fair; and from the spot where D'Auvergne and his -companions stood, multitudes of busy beings could be seen moving -there, in various garbs and colours, some on horseback, some on foot, -giving great liveliness to the scene; while the unutterable multitude -of weathercocks, with which every pinnacle of the castle was adorned, -fluttered, in addition, with a thousand flags, and banners, and -streamers, in gay and sparkling confusion. - -Before the cavalcade had made a hundred steps beyond the angle of the -town, which had concealed them from the castle, the eyes of the warder -fell upon them; and, in an instant, a loud and clamorous blast of the -trumpet issued from the belfry. It was instantly taken up by a whole -band in the castle court-yard. - -D'Auvergne knew his welcome home, and raised his horn to his lips in -reply. At the same instant, every archer in his train, by an -irresistible impulse, followed their lord's example. Each man's home -was before him, and they blew together, in perfect unison, the famous -_Bienvenu Auvergnat_, till the walls, and the towers, and the hills -echoed to the sound. - -At that moment the gates of the castle were thrown open, and a gallant -train of horsemen issued forth, and galloped down towards our -pilgrims. At their head was an old man richly dressed in crimson and -gold. The fire of his eye was unquenched, the rose of his cheek -unpaled, and the only effect of seventy summers to be seen upon him -was the snowy whiteness of his hair. D'Auvergne's horse flew like the -wind to meet him. The old man and the young one sprang to the ground -together. The father clasped his child to his heart, and weeping on -his iron shoulder, exclaimed, "My son! my son!" - - - - -CHAPTER VII. - - -Let us suppose the welcome given to all, and the guests within the -castle of the Count d'Auvergne, who, warned by messengers of his son's -approach, had called his _cour plenière_ to welcome the return. - -It was one of those gay and lively scenes now seldom met with, where -pageant, and splendour, and show were unfettered by cold form and -ceremony. The rigid etiquette, which in two centuries after enchained -every movement of the French court, was then unknown. Titles of honour -rose no higher than Beau Sire, or Monseigneur, and these even were -applied more as a mark of reverence for great deeds and splendid -virtues, than for wealth and hereditary rank. All was gay and free, -and though respect was shown to age and station, it was the respect of -an early and unsophisticated age, before the free-will offering of the -heart to real dignity and worth had been regulated by the cold -rigidity of a law. Yet each person in that day felt his own station, -struggled for none that was not his due, and willingly paid the -tribute of respect to the grade above his own. - -Through the thousand chambers and the ten thousand passages of the -château of Vic le Comte, ran backwards and forwards pages, and -varlets, and squires, in proportion to the multitude of guests. Each -of these attendants, though performing what would be now considered -the menial offices of personal service, to the various knightly and -noble visiters, was himself of noble birth, and aspirant to the -honours of chivalry. Nor was this the case alone at the courts of -sovereign princes like the Count D'Auvergne. Parents of the highest -rank were in that age happy to place their sons in the service of the -poorest knight, provided that his own exploits gave warranty that he -would breed them up to deeds of honour and glory. It was a sort of -apprenticeship to chivalry. - -All these choice attendants, for the half-hour after Count Thibalt's -return, hurried, as we have said, from chamber to chamber, offering -their services, and aiding the knights who had come to welcome their -young lord, to unbuckle their heavy armour, without the defence of -which, the act of travelling, especially in Auvergne, was rash and -dangerous. Multitudes of fresh guests were also arriving every -moment--fair dames and gallant knights, vassals and vavassours;--some -followed by a gay train; some bearing nothing but lance and sword; -some carrying themselves their lyre, without which, if known as -troubadours, they never journeyed; and some accompanied by whole -troops of minstrels, jugglers, fools, rope-dancers, and mimics, whom -they brought along with them out of compliment to their feudal chief, -towards whose _cour plenière_ they took their way. - -Numbers of these buffoons also were scattered amongst the tents and -booths, which we have mentioned, on the outside of the castle-gate; -and here, too, were merchants and pedlars of all kinds, who had -hurried to Vic le Comte with inconceivable speed, on the very first -rumour of a _cour plenière_. In one booth might be seen cloth of gold -and silver, velvets, silks, cendals, and every kind of fine stuffs; in -another, ermines, miniver, and all sorts of furs. Others, again, -displayed silver cups and vessels, with golden ornaments for clasping -the mantles of the knights and ladies, called _fermailles_; and again, -others exhibited cutlery and armour of all kinds; Danish battle-axes, -casques of Poitiers, Cologne swords, and Rouen hauberts. Neither was -noise wanting. The laugh, the shout, the call, within and without the -castle walls, was mingled with the sound of a thousand instruments, -from the flute to the hurdy-gurdy; while, at the same time, every -point of the scene was fluttering and alive, whether with gay dresses -and moving figures, or pennons, flags, and banners on the walls and -pinnacles of the château. - -Precisely at the hour of four, a band of minstrels, richly clothed, -placed themselves before the great gate of the castle, and performed -what was called _corner à l'eau_, which gave notice to every one that -the banquet was about to be placed upon the table. At that sound, all -the knights and ladies left the chambers to which they had first been -marshalled, and assembled in one of the vast halls of the castle, -where the pages offered to each a silver basin and napkin, to wash -their hands previous to the meal. - -At this part of the ceremony De Coucy, Heaven knows how! found himself -placed by the side of Isadore of the Mount; and he would willingly -have given a buffet to the gay young page who poured the water over -her fair hands, and who looked up in her face with so saucy and -page-like a grin, that Isadora could not but smile, while she thanked -him for his service. - -The old Count d'Auvergne stood speaking with his son; and, while he -welcomed the various guests as they passed before him with word and -glance, he still resumed his conversation with Count Thibalt. Nor did -that conversation seem of the most pleasing character; for his brow -appeared to catch the sadness of his son's, from which the light of -joy, that his return had kindled up, had now again passed away. - -"If your knightly word be pledged, my son," said the old count, as the -horns again sounded to table, "no fears of mine shall stay you; but I -had rather you had sworn to beard the Soldan on his throne, than that -which you have undertaken." The conversation ended with a sigh, and -the guests were ushered to the banquet-hall. - -It was one of those vast chambers, of which few remain to the present -day. One, however, may still be seen at La Brède, the château of the -famous Montesquieu, of somewhat the same dimensions. It was eighty -feet in length, by fifty in breadth; and the roof, of plain dark oak, -rose from walls near thirty feet high, and met in the form of a -pointed arch in the centre. Neither columns nor pilasters ornamented -the sides; but thirty complete suits of mail, with sword, and spear, -and shield, battle-axe, mace, and dagger, hung against each wall; and -over every suit projected a banner, either belonging to the house of -Auvergne, or won by some of its members in the battle-field. The floor -was strewed thickly with green leaves; and on each space left vacant -on the wall by the suits of armour was hung a large branch of oak, -covered with its foliage. From such simple decorations, bestowed upon -the hall itself, no one would have expected to behold a board laid out -with as much splendour and delicacy as the most scrupulous gourmand of -the present day could require to give savour to his repast. - -The table, which extended the whole length of the hall, was covered -with fine damask linen--a manufacture the invention of which, though -generally attributed to the seventeenth century, is of infinitely -older date. Long benches, covered with tapestry, extended on each side -of the table; and the place of every guest was marked, even as in the -present times, by a small round loaf of bread, covered with a fine -napkin, embroidered with gold. By the side of the bread lay a knife, -though the common girdle dagger often saved the lord of the mansion -the necessity of providing his guests with such implements. To this -was added a spoon, of silver; but forks there were none, their first -mention in history being in the days of Charles the Fifth of France. - -A row of silver cups also ornamented both sides of the board; the -first five on either hand being what were called _hanaps_, which -differed from the others in being raised upon a high stem, after the -fashion of the chalice. Various vases of water and of wine, some of -silver, some of crystal, were distributed in different parts of the -table, fashioned for the most part in strange and fanciful forms, -representing dragons, castles, ships, and even men, and an immense -mass of silver and gold, in the different shapes of plates and -goblets, blazed upon two buffets, or _dressoirs_, as they are called -by Helenor de Poitiers, placed at the higher part of the hall, near -the seat of the count himself. - -Thus far, the arrangements differed but little from those of our own -times. What was to follow, however, was somewhat more in opposition to -the ideas of the present day. The doors of the hall were thrown open, -and the splendid train of knights and ladies, which the _cour -plenière_ had assembled, entered to the banquet. The Count d'Auvergne -first took his place in a chair with _dossier_ and _dais_, as it was -particularised in those days, or, in other words, high raised back and -canopy. He then proceeded to arrange what was called the _assiette_ of -the table; namely, that very difficult task of placing those persons -together whose minds and qualities were best calculated to assimilate: -a task, on the due execution of which the pleasure of such meetings -must ever depend, but which will appear doubly delicate, when we -remember that then each knight and lady, placed side by side, ate from -the same plate, and drank from the same cup. - -That sort of quick perception of proprieties, which we now call -_tact_, belongs to no age; and the Count d'Auvergne, in the thirteenth -century, possessed it in a high degree. All his guests were satisfied, -and De Coucy drank out of the same cup as Isadora of the Mount. - -They were deliriating draughts he drank, and he now began to feel that -he had never loved before. The glance of her bright eye, the touch of -her small hand, the sound of her soft voice, seemed something new, and -strange, and beautiful to him; and he could hardly fancy that he had -known any thing like it ere then. The scene was gay and lovely; and -there were all those objects and sounds around which excite the -imagination and make the heart beat high,--glitter, and splendour, and -wine, and music, and smiles, and beauty, and contagious happiness. The -gay light laugh, the ready jest, the beaming look, the glowing cheek, -the animated speech, the joyous tale, were there; and ever and anon, -through the open doors, burst a wild swelling strain of horns and -flutes--rose for a moment over every other sound, and then died away -again into silence. - -What words De Coucy said, and how those words were said; and what -Isadore felt, and how she spoke it not, we will leave to the -imagination of those who may have been somewhat similarly situated. -Nor will we farther prolong the description of the banquet--a -description perhaps too far extended already--by detailing all the -various yellow soups and green, the storks, the peacocks, and the -boars; the castles that poured forth wine, and the pyramids of fifty -capons, which from time to time covered the table. We have already -shown all the remarkable differences between a banquet of that age and -one given in our own, and also some of the still more remarkable -similarities. - -At last, when the rays of the sun, which had hitherto poured through -the high windows on the splendid banquet-table, so far declined as no -longer to reach it, the old Count d'Auvergne filled his cup with wine, -and raised his hand as a sign to the minstrels behind his chair, when -suddenly they blew a long loud flourish on their trumpets, and then -all was silent. "Fair knights and ladies!" said the count, "before we -go to hear our troubadours beneath our ancient oaks, I once more bid -you welcome all; and though here be none but true and valiant knights, -to each of whom I could well wish to drink, yet there is one present -to whom Auvergne owes much, and whom I--old as I am in arms--pronounce -the best knight in France. Victor of Ascalon and Jaffa; five times -conqueror of the infidel, in ranged battle; best lance at Zara, and -first planter of a banner on the imperial walls of Byzantium--but more -to me than all--saviour of my son's life--Sir Guy de Coucy, good -knight and true, I drink to your fair honour!--do me justice in my -cup:" and the count, after having raised his golden _hanap_ to his -lips, sent it round by a page to De Coucy. - -De Coucy took the cup from the page, and with a graceful abnegation of -the praises bestowed upon him, pledged the father of his friend. But -the most remarkable circumstance of the ceremony was, that it was -Isadore's cheek that flushed, and Isadore's lip that trembled, at the -great and public honour shown to De Coucy, as if the whole -embarrassment thereof had fallen upon herself. - -The guests now rose, and, led by the Count d'Auvergne, proceeded to -the forest behind the château, where, under the great feudal oak, at -whose foot all the treaties and alliances of Auvergne were signed, -they listened to the songs of the various troubadours, many of whom -were found amongst the most noble of the knights present. - -We are so accustomed to look upon all the details of the age of -chivalry as fabulous, that we can scarcely figure to ourselves men -whose breasts were the mark and aim of every danger, whose hands were -familiar with the lance and sword, and whose best part of life was -spent in battle and bloodshed, suddenly casting off their armour, and -seated under the shadow of an oak, singing lays of love and tenderness -in one of the softest and most musical languages of the world. Yet so -it was, and however difficult it may be to transport our mind to such -a scene, and call up the objects as distinct and real, yet history -leaves no doubt of the fact, that the most daring warriors of -Auvergne--and Auvergne was celebrated for bold and hardy spirits--were -no less famous as troubadours than knights; and, as they sat round the -count, they, one after another, took the citharn, or the rote, and -sung with a slight monotonous accompaniment one of the sweet lays of -their country. - -There is only one, however, whom we shall particularise. He was a -slight fair youth, of a handsome but somewhat feminine aspect. -Nevertheless, he wore the belt and spurs of a knight; and by the -richness of his dress, which glittered with gold and crimson, appeared -at least endowed with the gifts of fortune. During the banquet, he had -gazed upon Isadore of the Mount far more than either the lady beside -whom he sat, or De Coucy, admired; and there was a languid and almost -melancholy softness in his eye, which Isadore's lover did not at all -like. When called upon to sing, by the name of the Count de la Roche -Guyon, he took his harp from a page, and sweeping it with a careless -but a confident hand, again fixed his eyes upon Isadore, and sang with -a sweet, full, mellow voice, in the Provençal or Langue d'oc, though -his name seemed to bespeak a more northern extraction. - -TROUBADOUR'S SONG. - - "My love, my love, my lady love! - What can with her compare; - The orbs of heaven she's far above, - No flower is half so fair. - - Her cheeks are like the summer sky, - Before the sun goes down-- - Faint roses, like the hues that lie - Beneath night's tresses brown. - - Her eye itself is like that star, - Which, sparkling through the sky, - Lifts up its diamond look afar, - Just as day's blushes die. - - Her lip alone, the new born rose; - Her breath, the breath of spring; - Her voice is sweet as even those - Of angels when they sing. - - A thousand congregated sweets - Deck her beyond compare; - And fancy's self no image meets - So wonderfully fair. - - I'd give my barony to be - Beloved for a day: - But, oh! her heart is not for me! - Her smile is given away." - -"By my faith! she must be a hard-hearted damsel, then!" said old Sir -Julian of the Mount, "if she resist so fair a troubadour.--But, Sir -Guy de Coucy, let not the Langue d'oc carry it off entirely from us of -the Langue d'oyl. So gallant a knight must love the lyre. I pray thee! -sing something, for the honour of our Trouvères." - -De Coucy would have declined, but the Count Thibalt pressed him to the -task, and named the siege of Constantinople as his theme. At the same -time the young troubadour who had just sung offered him his harp, -saying, "I pray you, beau sire, for the honour of your lady!" - -De Coucy bowed his head, and took the instrument, over the strings of -which he threw his hand, in a bold but not unskilful manner; and then, -joining his voice, sung the taking of Zara and first siege of -Constantinople; after which he detailed the delights of Greece, and -showed how difficult it was for the knights and soldiers to keep -themselves from sinking into the effeminacy of the Greeks, while -encamped in the neighbourhood of Byzantium, waiting the execution of -their treaty with the Emperor Isaac and his son Alexis. He then spoke -of the assassination of Alexis, the usurpation of Murzuphlis, and the -preparation of the Francs to punish the usurper. His eye flashed; his -tone became more elevated, and drawing his accompaniment from the -lower tones of the instrument, he poured forth an animated description -of the last day of the empire of the Greeks. - -De Coucy then went on to describe the shining but effeminate display -of the Greek warriors on the walls, and the attack of the city by sea -and land. In glowing language he depicted both the great actions of -the assault and of the defence; the effect of the hell-invented Greek -fire; of the catapults, the mangonels, the darts of flame shot from -the walls; as well as the repeated repulses of the Francs, and the -determined and unconquerable valour with which they pursued their -purpose of punishing the Greeks. Abridging his lay as he went on, he -left out the names of many of the champions, and touched but slightly -on the deeds of others. - -But with increasing energy at every line, he proceeded to sing the -mixed fight upon the battlements, after the Francs had once succeeded -in scaling them, till the Greeks gave way, and he concluded by -painting the complete triumph of the Francs. - -All eyes were bent on De Coucy;--all ears listened to his lay. The -language, or rather dialect, in which he sang, the Langue d'oyl, was -not so sweet and harmonious as the Langue d'oc, or Provençal, it is -true, but it had more strength and energy. The subject, also, was more -dignified; and as the young knight proceeded to record the deeds in -which he had himself been a principal actor, his whole soul seemed to -be cast into his song:--his fine features assumed a look between the -animation of the combatant and the inspiration of the poet. It seemed -as if he forgot every thing around, in the deep personal interest -which he felt in the very incidents he recited: his utterance became -more rapid; his hand swept like lightning over the harp; and when he -ended his song, and laid down the instrument, it was as if he did so -but in order to lay his hand upon his sword. - -A pause of deep silence succeeded for a moment, and then came a -general murmur of applause; for, in singing the deeds of the Francs at -Constantinople, De Coucy touched, in the breast of each person -present, that fine chord called national vanity, by which we attach a -part of every sort of glory, gained by our countrymen, to our own -persons, however much we may recognise that we are incompetent to -perform the actions by which it was acquired. - - - - -CHAPTER VIII. - - -The existence of a monarch, without his lot be cast amidst very -halcyon days indeed, is much like the life of a seaman, borne up upon -uncertain and turbulent waves. Exposed to a thousand storms, from -which a peasant's cot would be sufficient shelter, his whole being is -spent in watching for the tempest, and his whole course is at the -mercy of the wind. - -It was with bitterness of heart, and agony of spirit, that Philip -Augustus saw gathering on the political horizon around many a dark -cloud that threatened him with a renewal of all those fatigues, -anxieties, and pains, from which he had hoped, at least, for some -short respite. He saw it with a wrung and burning bosom, but he saw it -without dismay; for, strong in the resources of a mind above his age, -he resolved to wreak great and signal vengeance on the heads of those -who should trouble his repose; and, knowing that the sorrow must come, -he prepared, as ever with him, to make his revenge a handmaid to his -policy, and, by the punishment of his rebellious vassals, not only to -augment his own domains as a feudal sovereign, but to extend the -general force and prerogative of the crown, and form a large basis of -power on which his successors might build a fabric of much greatness. - -However clearly he might see the approach of danger, and however -vigorously he might prepare to repel it, Philip was not of that frame -of mind which suffers remote evil long to interfere with present -enjoyment. For a short space he contemplated them painfully, though -firmly; but soon the pain was forgotten, and like a veteran soldier -who knows he may be attacked during the night, and sleeps with his -arms beside him, but still sleeps tranquilly, Philip saw the murmured -threatening of his greater feudatories, and took every means of -preparation against what he clearly perceived would follow: but this -once done, he gave himself up to pleasures and amusements; seeming -anxious to crowd into the short space of tranquillity that was left -him, all the gaieties and enjoyments which might otherwise have been -scattered through many years of peace. Fêtes, and pageants, and -tournaments succeeded each other rapidly; and Philip of France, with -his fair queen, seemed to look upon earth as a garden of smiles, and -life as a long chain of unbroken delights. - -Yet, even in his pleasures, Philip was politic. He had returned to -Paris, though the summer heat had now completely set in, and June was -far advanced; and sitting in the old palace on the island, he was -placed near one of the windows, through which poured the free air of -the river, while he arranged with his beloved Agnes the ceremonies of -a banquet. Philip was famous for his taste in every sort of pageant; -and now he was giving directions himself to various attendants who -stood round, repeating with the most scrupulous exactness every -particular of his commands, as if the very safety of his kingdom had -depended on their correct execution. - -While thus employed, his minister Guerin, now elected bishop of -Senlis, though he still, as I have said, retained the garments of the -knights of St. John, entered the apartment, and stood by the side of -the king, while he gave his last orders, and sent the attendants away. - -"Another banquet, sire!" said the bishop, with that freedom of speech -which in those days was admitted between king and subject; and -speaking in the grave and melancholy tone which converts an -observation into a reproach. - -"Ay, good brother!" replied Philip, looking up smilingly; "another -banquet in the great _salle du palais_; and on the tenth of July a -tournament at Champeaux. Sweet Agnes! laugh at his grave face! -Wouldest thou not say, dear lady mine, that I spake to the good bishop -of a defeat and a funeral, instead of a feast and a _passe d'armes_?" - -"The defeat of your finances, sire, and the burial of your treasury," -replied Guerin coldly. - -"I have other finances that you know not of, bishop," replied the -king, still keeping his good humour. "Ay, and a private treasury too, -where gold will not be wanting." - -"Indeed, my liege!" replied the bishop. "May I crave where?" Philip -touched the hilt of his sword. "Here is an unfailing measure of -finance!" said he; "and as for my treasury, 'tis in the purses of -revolted barons, Guerin!" - -"If you make use of that treasury, sire," answered the bishop, "for -the good of your state, and the welfare of your people, 'tis indeed -one that may serve you well; but if you spend it----." The bishop -paused, as if afraid of proceeding, and Philip took up the word. - -"If I spend it, you would say, in feasting and revelry," said the -king, "I shall make the people murmur, and my best friends quit me. -But," continued he in a gayer tone, "let us quit all sad thoughts, and -talk of the feast,--the gay and splendid feast,--where you shall -smile, Guerin, and make the guests believe you the gentlest counsellor -that ever king was blest withal. Nay, I will have it so, by my faith! -As to the guests, they are all choice and gay companions, whom I have -chosen for their merriment. Thou shalt laugh heartily when placed -between Philip of Champagne, late my sworn enemy, but who now becomes -my good friend and humble vassal, and brings his nephew and ward, the -young Thibalt, count of all Champagne, to grace his suzerain's -feast--when placed between him, I say, and Pierre de Courtenay, whose -allegiance is not very sure, and whose brother, the Count of Namur, is -in plain rebellion. There shalt thou see also Bartholemi de Roye, and -the Count de Perche, both somewhat doubtful in their love to Philip, -but who, before that feast is over, shall be his humblest creatures. -Fie, fie, Guerin!" he added, in a more reproachful tone, "will you -never think that I have a deeper motive for my actions than lies upon -the surface? As to the tournament, too, think you I do not propose to -try men's hearts as well as their corslets, and see if their loyalty -hold as firm a seat as they do themselves?" - -"I never doubt, sire," replied the bishop, "that you have good and -sufficient motives for all your actions; but, this morning, a sad -account has been laid before me of the royal domains; and when I came -to hear of banquets and tournaments, it pained me to think what you, -sire, would feel, when you saw the clear statement." - -"How so?" cried Philip Augustus. "It cannot be so very bad!--Let me -see it, Guerin!--let me see it. 'Tis best to front such things at -once.--Let me see it, man, I say!" - -"I have it not here, sire," answered the bishop; "but I will send it -by the clerk who drew it up; and who can give you farther accounts, -should it be necessary." - -"Quick then!" cried the king,--"quick, good bishop!" And walking up -and down the hall, with an unquiet and somewhat irritated air, he -repeated, "It cannot be so bad! The last time I made the calculation, -'twas somewhere near a hundred thousand livres. Bad enough, in -truth--but I have known that long! Now, sir clerk," he continued, as a -secretary entered, "read me the account, if it be as I see on wax. Was -no parchment to be had, that you must draw the charter on wax[10] to -blind me? Read, read!" - - --------------------- - -[Footnote 10: Later instances exist of wax having been used in the -accounts of the royal treasury of France.] - --------------------- - - -The king spoke in the hasty manner of one whose brighter hopes and -wishes--for Imagination is always a great helpmate of Ambition, and as -well as its first prompter, is its indefatigable ally--in the manner -of one whose brighter hopes and wishes had been cut across by cold -realities; and the clerk replied in the dull and snuffling tone -peculiar to clerks, and monstrously irritating to every hasty man. - -"Accounts of the Prévôt de Soissons, sire," said the clerk: "Receipts: -six hundred livres, seven sous, two deniers. Expenses: eighteen -livres, to arm three cross-bowmen; twenty livres to the holy clerk; -seventy livres for clothing and arming twenty serjeants on foot. -Accounts of the sénéchal of Pontoise," continued the clerk, in the -same slow and solemn manner: "Receipts: five hundred livres, -_Parisis_. Expenses: thirty-three livres, for wax-tapers for the -church of the blessed St. Millon; twenty-eight sous for the carriage -to Paris of the two living lions, now at the kennel of the -wolf-hounds, without the walls; twenty livres, spent for the robes for -four judges; and baskets for twenty eels--for seventeen young wolves." - -"Death to my soul!" cried the impatient king: "make an end, man!--come -to the sum total! How much remains?" - -"Two hundred livres, six sous, one denier," replied the clerk. - -"Villain, you lie!" cried the enraged monarch, striking him with his -clenched fist, and snatching the tablets from his hand. "What! am I a -beggar? 'Tis false, by the light of heaven!--It cannot be," he added, -as his eye ran over the sad statement of his exhausted finances,--"it -cannot surely be! Go, fellow! bid the bishop of Senlis come -hither! I am sorry that I struck thee. Forget it! Go, bid Guerin -hither,--quick!" - -While this was passing, Agnes de Meranie had turned to one of the -windows, and was gazing out upon the river and the view beyond. She -would fain have made her escape from the hall, when first she found -the serious nature of the business that had arisen out of the -preparations for the fête; but Philip stood between her and either of -the doors, both while he was speaking with his minister, and while he -was receiving the statement from the clerk; and Agnes did not choose, -by crossing him, to call his attention from his graver occupation. As -soon, however, as the clerk was gone, Philip's eye fell upon her, as -she leaned against the casement, with her slight figure bending in as -graceful an attitude as the Pentelican marble was ever taught to show; -and there was something in her very presence reproved the monarch for -the unworthy passion into which he had been betrayed. When a man loves -deeply, he would fain be a god in the eyes of the woman that he loves, -lest the worship that he shows her should lessen him in his own. -Philip was mortified that she had been present; and lest any thing -equally mortal should escape him while speaking with his minister, he -approached and took her hand. - -"Agnes," said he, "I have forgot myself; but this tablet has crossed -me sadly," pointing to the statement. "I shall be no longer able to -give festal orders. Go you, sweet! and, in the palace gardens, bid -your maidens strip all the fairest flowers to deck the tables and the -hall----" - -"They shall spare enough for one crown, at least," replied Agnes, "to -hang on my royal Philip's casque on the tournament-day. But I will -speed, and arrange the flowers myself." Thus saying, she turned away, -with a gay smile, as if nothing had ruffled the current of the time; -and left the monarch expecting thoughtfully the bishop of Senlis's -return. - -The minister did not make the monarch wait; but he found Philip -Augustus in a very different mood from that in which he left him. - -"Guerin," said the king, with a grave and careful air, "you have been -my physician, and a wise one. The cup you have given me is bitter, but -'tis wholesome; and I have drunk it to the dregs." - -"It is ever with the most profound sorrow," said the hospitaller, with -that tone of simple persuasive gravity that carries conviction of its -sincerity along with it, "that I steal one from the few scanty hours -of tranquillity that are allotted to you, sire, in this life. Would it -were compatible with your honour and your kingdom's welfare, that I -should bear all the more burthensome part of the task which royalty -imposes, and that you, sire, should know but its sweets! But that -cannot be; and I am often obliged, as you say, to offer my sovereign a -bitter cup that willingly I would have drunk myself." - -"I believe you, good friend--from my soul, I believe you!" said the -king. "I have ever observed in you my brother, a self-denying zeal, -which is rare in this corrupted age; or used but as the means of -ambition. Raise not your glance as if you thought I suspected you. -Guerin, I do not! I have watched you well; and had I seen your fingers -itch to close upon the staff of power,--had you but stretched out your -hand towards it,--had you sought to have left me in idle ignorance of -my affairs,--ay! or even sought to weary me of them with eternal -reiteration, you never should have seen the secrets of my heart, as -now you shall--I would have used you Guerin, as an instrument, but you -never would have been my friend. Do you understand me, ha? - -"I do, royal sir," replied the knight, "and God help me, as my wish -has ever been only to serve you truly!" - -"Mark me, then, Guerin!" continued the king. "This banquet must go -forward--the tournament also--ay, and perhaps another. Not because I -love to feast my eyes with the grandeur of a king--no, Guerin,--but -because I would be a king indeed! I have often asked myself," -proceeded the monarch, speaking slowly, and, as was sometimes his -wont, laying the finger of his right-hand on the sleeve of the -hospitaller's robe--"I have often asked myself whether a king would -never fill the throne of France, who should find time and occasion -fitting to carry royalty to that grand height where it was placed by -Charlemagne. Do not start! I propose not--I hope not--to be the man; -but I will pave the way, tread it who will hereafter. I speak not of -acting Charlemagne with this before my eyes;" and he laid his hand -upon the tablets, which showed the state of his finances, "But still I -may do much--nay, I have done much." - -Philip paused, and thought for a moment, seeming to recall, one by -one, the great steps he had taken to change the character of the -feudal system; then raising his eyes, he continued:--"When the sceptre -fell into my grasp, I found that it was little more dignified than a -jester's bauble. France was not a kingdom,--'twas a republic of -nobles, of which the king could hardly be said to be the chief. He had -but one prerogative left,--that of demanding homage from his vassals; -and even that homage he was obliged to render himself to his own -vassals, for feofs held in their _mouvances_. At that abuse was aimed -my first blow." - -"I remember it well, sire," replied the hospitaller, "and a great and -glorious blow it was; for, by that simple declaration, that the king -could not and ought not to be vassal to any man, and that any feof -returning to the crown by what means soever, was no longer a feof, but -became _domaine_ of the crown, you re-established at once the -distinction between the king and his great feudatories." - -"'Twas but a step," replied the monarch; "the next was, Guerin, to -declare that all questions of feudal right were referable to our court -of peers. The proud Suzerains thought that there they would be their -own judges; but they found that I was there the king. But, to be -short,--Guerin _I_ have followed _willingly_ the steps that -_circumstances_ imposed upon my father. I have freed the commons,--I -have raised the clergy,--I have subjected my vassals to my court. So -have I broken the feudal hierarchy;--so have I reduced the power of my -greater feudatories; and so have I won both their fear and their -hatred. It is against that I must guard. The lesser barons love -me--the clergy--the burghers;--but that is not enough; I must have one -or two of the sovereigns. Then let the rest revolt if they dare! By -the Lord that liveth! if they do, I will leave the _domaines_ of the -crown to my son, tenfold multiplied from what I found them. But I must -have one or two of my princes. Philip of Champagne is one on whom -words and honours work more than real benefits. He must be feasted and -set on my right-hand. Pierre de Courtney is one whose heart and soul -is on chivalry; and he must be won by tournaments and lance-breakings. -Many, many others are alike; and while I crush the wasps in my -gauntlet, Guerin, I must not fail to spread out some honey to catch -the flies." So spake Philip Augustus, with feelings undoubtedly -composed of that grand selfishness called ambition; but, at the same -time, with those superior powers, both of conception and execution -that not only rose above the age, but carried the age along with him. - -"I am not one, sire," said the minister, "to deem that great -enterprises may not be accomplished with small means; but, in the -present penury of the royal treasury, I know not what is to be done. I -will see, however, what may be effected amongst your good burghesses -of Paris." - -"Do so, good bishop!" replied the king, "and in the mean time I will -ride forth to the hermit of Vincennes. He is one of those men, Guerin, -of whom earth bears so few, who have new thoughts. He seems to have -cast off all old ideas and feelings, when he threw from him the -corslet and the shield, and took the frock and sandal. Perhaps he may -aid us. But, ere I go, I must take good order that every point of -ceremony be observed in our banquet: I would not, for one half France, -that Philip of Champagne should see a fault or a flaw! I know him -well; and he must be my own, if but to oppose to Ferrand of Flanders, -who is the falsest vassal that ever king had!" - -"I trust that the hermit may suggest the means!" replied Guerin, "and -I doubt little that he will; but I beseech you, sire, not to let your -blow fall on the heads of the Jews again. The hermit's advice was -wise, to punish them for their crimes, and at the same time to enrich -the crown of France; but having now returned by your royal permission, -and having ever since behaved well and faithfully, they should be -assured of protection." - -"Fear not, fear not!" replied the king; "they are as safe as my honour -can make them." So saying, he turned to prepare for the expedition he -proposed. - -Strange state of society! when one of the greatest monarchs that -France ever possessed was indebted, on many occasions, for the -re-establishment of his finances, and for some of his best measures of -policy, to an old man living in solitude and abstraction, removed from -the scenes and people over whose fate he exercised so extraordinary a -control, and evincing, on every occasion, his disinclination to mingle -with the affairs of the world.[11] - - --------------------- - -[Footnote 11: The Chronicle of Alberic des Trois Fontaines gives some -curious particulars concerning this personage, and offers a singular -picture of the times.] - --------------------- - - -But it is time we should speak more fully of a person whose history -and influence on the people amongst whom he lived, strongly developes -the character of the age. - - - - -CHAPTER IX. - - -King Philip rode out of Paris attended like the monarch of a great -nation; but, pausing at the tower of Vincennes, he left his -men-at-arms behind; and, after throwing a brown mantle over his -shoulders, and drawing the _aumuce_,[12] or furred hood, round his -face, he proceeded through the park on foot, followed only by a single -page to open the gate, which led out into the vast forest of St. -Mandé. When this task was performed, the attendant, by order of the -monarch, suffered him to proceed alone, and waited on the outside of -the postern, to admit the king on his return. - - --------------------- - -[Footnote 12: The difference between the chaperon, or hood, and the -aumuce was, that the first was formed of cloth or silk, and the latter -of fur.--_Dic. des Franc_.] - --------------------- - - -Philip Augustus took a small path that, wandering about amidst the old -trees, led on into the heart of the forest. All was in thick leaf; and -the branches, meeting above, cast a green and solemn shadow over the -way. It was occasionally crossed, however, with breaks of yellow -sunshine where the trees parted; and there the eye might wander down -the long, deep glades, in which sun and shade, and green leaves, and -broad stems, and boughs, were all seen mingled together in the dim -forest air, with an aspect of wild, original solitude, such as wood -scenery alone can display. - -One might have fancied oneself the first tenant of the world, in the -sad loneliness of that dark, old wood; so that, as he passed along, -deep thoughts of a solemn, and even melancholy character came thick -about the heart of the monarch. The littleness of human grandeur--the -evanescence of enjoyment--the emptiness of fame--the grand and awful -lessons that solitude teaches, and the world wipes out, found their -moment then: and, oh! for that brief instant, how he hated strife, and -cursed ambition, and despised the world, and wished himself the -solitary anchorite he went to visit! - -At about half a league from the tower of Vincennes stood in those days -an antique tomb. The name and fame of him whose memory it had been -intended to perpetuate, had long passed away; and it remained in the -midst of the forest of St. Mandé, with its broken tablets and effaced -inscription, a trophy to oblivion. Near it, Bernard the hermit had -built his hut; and when the monarch approached, he was seated on one -of the large fragments of stone which had once formed part of the -monument. His head rested on one hand; while the other, fallen by his -side, held an open book; and at his feet lay the fragments of an urn -in sculptured marble. Over his head, an old oak spread its wide -branches; but through a vacant space amidst the foliage, where either -age or the lightning had riven away one of the great limbs of the -forest giant, the sunshine poured through, and touching on the coarse -folds of the Hermit's garments, passed on, and shone bright upon the -ruined tomb. - -As Philip approached, the hermit raised his eyes, but dropped them -again immediately. He was known to have, as it were, fits of this sort -of abstraction, the repeated interruption of which had so irritated -him, that, for a time, he retired to the mountains of Auvergne, and -only returned at the express and repeated request of the king. He was -now, if one might judge by the morose heaviness of his brow, buried in -one of those bitter and misanthropical reveries into which he often -fell; and the monarch, knowing his cynical disposition, took care not -to disturb the course of his ideas, by suddenly presenting any fresh -subject to his mind. Neither, to say the truth, were the thoughts of -the king very discordant with those which probably occupied the person -he came to see. Sitting down, therefore, on the stone beside him, -without giving or receiving any salutation, he remained in silence, -while the hermit continued gazing upon the tomb. - -"Beautiful nature!" said the old man at last. "How exquisitely fine is -every line thou hast chiseled in yon green ivy that twines amongst -those stones!--Whose tomb was that, my son?" - -"In truth, know not, good father!" replied the king; "and I do not -think that in all France there is a man wise enough to tell you." - -"You mock me!" said the hermit. "Look at the laurel--the never-dying -leaf--the ever, ever-green bay, which some curious hand has carved all -over the stone, well knowing that the prince or warrior who sleeps -there should be remembered till the world is not! I pray thee, tell me -whose is that tomb?" - -"Nay, indeed, it is unknown," replied the king. "Heaven forbid that I -should mock you! The inscription has been long effaced--the name for -centuries forgot; and the living in their busy cares have taken little -heed to preserve the memory of the dead." - -"So shall it be with thee," said the old man--"so shall it be with -thee. Thou shalt do great deeds; thou shalt know great joys, and taste -great sorrows! Magnified in thy selfishness, thy littleness shall seem -great. Thou shalt strive and conquer, till thou thinkest thyself -immortal; then die, and be forgot! Thy very tomb shall be commented -upon by idle speculation, and men shall come and wonder for whom it -was constructed. Do not men call thee Augustus?"[13] - - --------------------- - -[Footnote 13: The name of Augustus was given to Philip the Second, -even in the earlier part of his lifetime, although Mézerai mistakingly -attributes it to many centuries afterwards. Rigord, the historian and -physician, who died in the twenty-eighth year of Philip's reign, and -the forty-second of his age, styles him Augustus, in the very title of -his manuscript.] - --------------------- - - -"I have heard so," replied the king. "But I know not whether such a -title be general in the mouths of men, or whether it be the flattery -of some needy sycophant." - -"It matters not, my son," said the hermit--"it matters not. Think you, -that if Augustus had been written on that tablet, the letters of that -word would have proved more durable than those that time has long -effaced? Think you, that it would have given one hour of immortality?" - -"Good father, you mistake!" said Philip, "and read me a homily on that -where least I sin. None feels more than I the emptiness of fame. Those -that least seek it, very often win; and those that struggle for it -with every effort of their soul, die unremembered. 'Tis not fame I -seek: I live in the present." - -"What!" cried the hermit, "and bound your hopes to half-a-dozen -morrows? The present! What is the present? Take away the hours of -sleep--of bodily, of mental pain--of regrets for the past--of fears -for the future--of all sorts of cares. And what is the present? One -short moment of transitory joy--a point in the wide eternity of -thought!--a drop of water to a thirsty man, tasted and then forgot!" - -"'Tis but too true!" replied the king; "and even now, as I came -onward, I dreamed of casting off the load of sovereignty, and seeking -peace."' - -The hermit gazed at him for a moment, and seeing that he spoke -gravely--"It cannot be," he replied. "It must not be!" - -"And why not?" demanded the king. "All your reasoning has tended but -to that. Why should I not take the moral to myself?" - -"It cannot be," replied the hermit; "because the life of your -resolution would be but half an hour. It must not be, because the -world has need of you.--Monarch! I am not wont to flatter, and you -have many a gross and hideous fault about you; but, according to the -common specimens of human kind, you are worthy to be king. It matters -little to the world, whether you do good for its sake or your own. If -your ambition bring about your fellow-creatures' welfare, your -ambition is a virtue: nourish it. You have done good, O king! and you -will do good; and therefore you must be king, till Heaven shall give -you your dismissal. Nor did my reasoning tend, as you say, to make you -quit the cares of the world; but only to make you justly estimate its -joys, and look to a better immortality than that of earth--that empty -dream of human vanity! Still you must bear the load of sovereignty you -speak of; and, by freeing the people from the yoke of their thousand -tyrants, accomplish the work you have begun. See you not that I, who -have a better right to fly from the affairs of men, have come back -from Auvergne at your call?" - -"My good father," answered the king, "I would fain, as you say, take -the yoke from the neck of the people; but I have not means. Even now, -my finances are totally exhausted; and I sit upon my throne a beggar." - -"Ha!" said the hermit; "and therefore 'tis you seek me? I knew of this -before. But say, are your exigencies so great as to touch the present, -or only to menace the future?" - -"'Tis present--too truly present, my want!" replied the king. "Said I -not, I am a beggar? Can a king say more?" - -"This must be remedied!" replied the hermit.--"Come into my cell, good -son! Strange! that the ascetic's frock should prove richer than the -monarch's gown!--but 'tis so!" - -Philip followed the hermit into the rude thatched hut, on the cold -earthen floor of which was laid the anchorite's bed of straw. It had -no other furniture whatever. The mud walls were bare and rough. The -window was but an opening to the free air of heaven; and the thatch -seemed scarcely sufficient to keep off the inclemency of the weather. -The king glanced his eye round the miserable dwelling, and then to the -ashy and withered cheek of the hermit! as if he would have asked, Is -it possible for humanity to bear such privation? - -The anchorite remarked his look, and pointing to a crucifix of ebony -hanging against the wall, "There," cried he, "is my reward!--there is -the reward of fasting, and penitence, and prayer, and maceration, and -all that has made this body the withered and blighted thing it -is:--withered indeed! so that those who loved me best would not know a -line in my countenance. But there is the reward!" And casting himself -on his knees before the crucifix, he poured forth a long, wild, -rhapsodical prayer, which, indeed, well accorded with the character of -the times, but which was so very unlike the usual calm, rational, and -even bitter manner of the anchorite, that Philip gazed on him, in -doubt whether his judgment had not suddenly given way under the -severity of his ascetic discipline. - -At length the hermit rose, and, without noting the king's look of -astonishment, turned abruptly from his address to heaven, to far more -mundane thoughts. Pushing back the straw and moss which formed his -bed, from the spot where it joined the wall, he discovered, to the -king's no small surprise, two large leathern sacks or bags, the -citizen-like rotundity of which evinced their fulness in some kind. - -"In each of those bags," said the hermit, "is the sum of one thousand -marks of silver. One of them shall be yours, my son; the other is -destined for another purpose." - -It would be looking too curiously into the human heart to ask whether -Philip, who, the moment before, would have thought one of the bags a -most blessed relief from his very unkingly distresses, did not, on the -sight of two, feel unsatisfied that one only was to be his portion. -However, he was really of too noble a disposition not to feel grateful -for the gift, even as it was; and he was proceeding gracefully to -thank the hermit, when the old man stopped him. - -"Vanity, vanity! my son," cried he. "What need of thanks, for giving -you a thing that is valueless to me?--ay, more worthless than the moss -amongst which it lies. My vow forbids me either to buy or sell; and -though I may use gold, as the beast of burden bears it--but to -transfer it to another,--to me, it is more worthless than the dust of -the earth, for it neither bears the herbs that give me food, nor the -leaves that form my bed. Send for it, sir king, and it is yours.--But -now, to speak of the future. I heard by the way that the Count de -Tankerville is dead, and that the Duke of Burgundy claims all his -broad lands. Is it so?" - -"Nay," replied the king, "not so. The Count de Tankerville is -wandering in the Holy Land. I have not heard of him since I went -thither myself some ten years since: but he is there. At least, no -tidings have reached me of his death. Even were he dead," continued -the King, "which is not likely,--for he went but as one of the -palmers, to whom, you know, the Soldan shows much favour; and he was a -strong and vigorous man, fitted to resist all climates:--but even were -he dead, the Duke of Burgundy has no claim upon his lands; for, before -he went, he drew a charter and stamped it with his ring, whereby, in -case of his death, he gives his whole and entire lands, with our royal -consent, to Guy de Coucy, then a page warring with the men I left to -Richard of England, but now a famous knight, who has done feats of -great prowess in all parts of the world. The charter is in our royal -treasury, sent by him to our safe keeping about ten years agone." - -"Well, my son," replied the hermit, "the report goes that he is -dead.--Now, follow my counsel. Lay your hand upon those lands; call in -all the sums that for many years are due from all the count's prévôts -and sénéchals; employ the revenues in raising the dignity of your -crown, repressing the wars and plunderings of your barons, and----" - -"But," interrupted the King, "my good father, will not what you advise -itself be plundering? Will it not be a notable injustice?" - -"Are you one of those, sir king," asked the hermit, "who come for -advice, resolved to follow their own: and who hear the counsels of -others, but to strengthen their own determination? Do as I tell you, -and you shall prosper; and, by my faith in yon blessed emblem, I -pledge myself that, if the Count de Tankerville be alive, I will meet -his indignation; and he shall wreak his vengeance on my old head, if -he agree not that the necessity of the case compelled you. If he be a -good and loyal baron, he will not hesitate to say you did well, when -his revenues were lying unemployed, or only fattening his idle -servants. If he be dead, on the other hand, this mad-brained De Coucy, -who owes me his life, shall willingly acquit you of the sums you have -taken." - -The temptation was too strong for the king to resist; and determining -inwardly, merely to employ the large revenues of the Count de -Tankerville for the exigencies of the state, and to repay them, if he -or de Coucy did not willingly acquiesce in the necessity of the -case,--without however remembering that repayment might not be in his -power,--Philip Augustus consented to what the hermit proposed. It was -also farther agreed between them, that in case of the young knight -presenting himself at court, the question of his rights should be -avoided, till such time as the death of the Count de Tankerville was -positively ascertained; while, as some compensation, Philip resolved -to give him, in case of war, the leading of all the knights and -soldiers furnished by the lands which would ultimately fall to him. - -The hermit was arranging all these matters with Philip, with as much -worldly policy as if he never dreamed of nobler themes, when they were -startled by the sound of a horn, which, though at some distance, was -evidently in the forest. It seemed the blast of a huntsman; and a -flush of indignation came over the countenance of the king, at the -very thought of any one daring to hunt in one of the royal forests, -almost within sight of the walls of Paris. - -The hermit saw the angry spot, and giving way to the cynicism which -mingled so strangely with many very opposite qualities in his -character--"O God!" cried he, "what strange creatures thou hast made -us! That a great, wise king should hold the right of slaughtering -unoffending beasts as one of the best privileges of his crown!--to be -sole and exclusive butcher of God's forests in France! I tell thee, -monarch, that when those velvet brutes, that fly panting at thy very -tread heard afar, come and lick my hand, because I feed them and hurt -them not, I hold my staff as much above thy sceptre, as doing good is -above doing evil! But hie thee away quick, and send thy men to search -the forest; for, hark! the saucy fool blows his horn again, and knows -not royal ears are listening to his tell-tale notes!" - -Philip was offended: but the vast reputation for sanctity which the -hermit had acquired; the fasts, the vigils, and the privations, which -he himself knew to be unfeigned,--had, in that age of superstition, no -small effect even upon the mind of Philip Augustus:--he submitted, -therefore, to the anchorite's rebuke with seeming patience, but taking -care not to reply upon a subject whereon he knew himself to be -peculiarly susceptible, and which might urge him into anger, he took -leave of the hermit, fully resolved to follow his advice so far as to -send out some of his men-at-arms, to see who was bold enough to hunt -in the royal chase. - -This trouble, however, was spared him; for, as he walked back with a -rapid pace, along the path that conducted to Vincennes, the sound of -the horn came nearer and nearer; and suddenly the king was startled by -an apparition in one of the glades, which was very difficult to -comprehend. It consisted of a strong grey mare, galloping at full -speed, with no apparent rider, but with two human legs, clothed in -crimson silk, sticking far out before, one on each side of the -animal's neck. As it approached, however, Philip began to perceive the -body of the horseman, lying flat on his back, with his head resting on -the saddle, and not at all discomposed by his strange position, nor -the quick pace of his steed, blowing all sorts of _mots_ upon his -horn, which was, in truth, the sound that had disturbed the monarch in -his conference with the hermit. - -We must still remember, that the profound superstition of that age -held, as a part of the true faith, the existence and continual -appearance, in corporeal shape, of all sorts of spirits. It was also -the peculiar province of huntsmen, and other persons frequenting large -forests, to meet with these spirits; so that not a wood in France, of -any extent, but had its appropriate fiend; and never did a chase -terminate without some of the hunters separating from the rest, and -having some evil communication of the kind with the peculiar demon of -the place. - -Now, though the reader may have before met with the personage who, in -the present case, approached the king at full gallop, yet as Philip -Augustus had never done so,--and as no mind, however strong, is ever -without some touch of the spirit of its age, it was not unnatural for -the monarch to lay his hand upon his sword, that being the most -infallible way he had ever found of exorcising all kinds of spirits -whatever. The mare, however, aware that she was in the presence of -something more awful than trees and rocks, suddenly stopped, and, in a -moment, our friend Gallon the fool sat bolt upright before the king, -with his long and extraordinary nose wriggling in all sorts of ways on -the blank flat of his countenance, as if it were the only part of his -face that was surprised. - -"Who the devil are you?" exclaimed the monarch; "and what do you, -sounding your horn in this forest?" - -"I, the devil, am nobody," replied the jongleur; "and if you ask what -I do here, I am losing my way as hard as I can--Haw, haw!" - -"Nobody! How mean you?" demanded Philip. "You cannot be nobody." - -"Yes, I am," answered the juggler. "I have often heard the sage Count -Thibalt d'Auvergne say to my master, the valiant Sir Guy de Coucy, -that the intellect is the man. Now, I lack intellect; and therefore am -I nobody.--Haw, haw! Haw, haw!" - -"So thou art but a buffoon," said the king, - -"No, not so either," replied Gallon. "I am, indeed. Sir Guy de Coucy's -tame juggler; running wild in this forest, for want of instruction." - -"And where is now Sir Guy de Coucy," demanded the king, "and the Count -Thibalt d'Auvergne you speak of? They were both in the Holy Land when -last I heard of them." - -"As for the Count d'Auvergne," replied Gallon the fool,--"he parted -from us three days since to go to Paris, to make love to the king's -wife, who, they say, has a pretty foot. God help me!" - -"Ha, villain!" cried the king. "'Tis well the king hears you not, or -your ears would be slit!" - -"So should his hearing spoil my hearing," cried the juggler; "but I -would keep my ears out of his way. I have practice enough, in saving -them from my Lord Sir Guy; but no man has reached them yet, and shall -not.--Haw, haw!" - -"And where is Sir Guy?" demanded the king. "How happen you to have -parted from him?" - -"He is but now sitting a mile hence, singing very doleful ballads -under an oak," replied the juggler. "All about the old man and his -daughter.--Haw, haw! Sir Julian of the Mount and the fair -Isadore.--Haw, haw, haw!--You know?" - -"No, 'faith, fool! I know not," replied Philip. "What do you mean?" - -"Why, have you not heard," said the juggler, "how my good lord and my -better self, and five or six varlets and squires, conducted old Sir -Julian and the young Lady Isadore all the way from Vic le Comte to -Senlis----and how we lost our way in this cursed forest--and how lord -sent me to seek it? Oh, 'tis a fine tale, and my lord will write it in -verse--Haw, haw, haw!--and sing it to an old rattling harp; and make -all the folks weep to hear how he has sworn treason against the king, -all for the sake of the Lady Isadore.--Haw, haw, haw! Haw, haw!" And -placing his hand against his cheek, the juggler poured forth a mixture -of all sorts of noises, in which that of sharpening a saw was alone -predominant. - -Philip called, and entreated, and commanded him to cease, and to tell -him more; but the malicious juggler only burst out into one of his -long shrill laughs, and throwing himself back on his horse, set it off -into a gallop, without at all asking his way; at the same time putting -the horn to his mouth, and blowing a blast quite sufficient to drown -all the monarch's objurgations. - -Philip turned upon his heel, and pursued his way to Vincennes, -and--oh, strange human nature!--though he saw that his informant was a -fool--though he easily guessed him to be a malicious one, he repeated -again and again the words that Gallon had made use of--"Gone to make -love to the king's wife!--sworn treason against the king! But the -man's a fool--an idiot," added the monarch. "'Tis not worth a -thought;" and yet Philip thought of it. - - - - -CHAPTER X. - - -In the days we speak of, the city of Paris was just beginning to -venture beyond the island, and spread its streets and houses over the -country around. During the reign of Louis the Seventh, and especially -under the administration of Suger, abbot of St. Denis, the buildings -had extended far on the northern bank of the river; and there already -might be seen churches and covered market-places, and all that -indicates a wealthy and rising city; but in the midst of this suburb, -nearly on the spot where stand at present the Rue Neuve and the Rue -des Petits Champs, was a vast open space of ground, called the -Champeaux, or Little Fields; which, appertaining to the crown, had -been reserved for the chivalrous sports of the day. Part of it, -indeed, had been given to the halls of Paris, and part had been -enclosed as a cemetery; but a large vacant space still remained, and -here was appointed the tournament of July, to which Philip Augustus -had called all the chivalry of his realm. - -It is not my intention here to describe a tournament, which has been -so often done--and so exquisitely well done in the beautiful romance -of Ivanhoe, that my relation would not only have the tediousness of a -twice-told tale, but the disadvantage of a comparison with something -far better; but I am unfortunately obliged to touch upon such a theme, -as the events that took place at the _passe d'armes_ of Champeaux -materially affect the course of my history. - -On one side of the plain extended a battlemented building, erected by -the minister Guerin, and dedicated, as the term went, to the shelter -of the poor passengers. It looked more like a fortress, indeed, than a -house of hospitality, being composed entirely of towers and turrets; -and as it was the most prominent situation in the neighbourhood, it -was appointed for the display of the casques and shields of arms -belonging to the various knights who proposed to combat in the -approaching tournament. Nor was the effect unpleasant to the eye, for -every window on that side of the building which fronted the field had -the shield and banner of some particular knight, with all the same gay -colours wherewith we now decorate the panels of our carriages. In the -cloisters below, from morning unto night-fall, stood one of the -heralds in his glittering tabard, with his pursuivants and followers, -ready to receive and register complaints against any of the knights -whose arms were displayed above, and who, in case of any serious -charges, were either prevented from entering, or were driven with -ignominy from, the lists. - -Side by side, on one of the most conspicuous spots of the building, as -knights of high fame and prowess, were placed the shields and banners -of Count Thibalt d'Auvergne and Guy de Coucy; and the officers of -arms, who, from time to time repeated the names of the various -knights, and their exploits and qualities, did not fail to pause long -upon the two brothers in arms; giving De Coucy the meed over all -others for valour and daring, and D'Auvergne for cool courage and -prudent skill. - -All the arrangements of the field were as magnificent as if the royal -coffers had overflowed. The scaffoldings for the king, the ladies, and -the judges, were hung with crimson and gold; the tents and booths were -fluttering with streamers of all colours, and nothing was seen around -but pageant and splendour. - -Such was the scene which presented itself on the evening before the -tournament, when De Coucy and his friend, the Count d'Auvergne, whom -he had rejoined by this time in Paris, set out, from a lodging which -they occupied near the tower of the châtelet, to visit the spot where -they were to display their skill the next day. A circumstance, -however, occurred by the way, which it may be well to record. - -Passing through some of the more narrow and tortuous streets of Paris, -and their horses pressed on by the crowd of foot passengers, who were -coming from, or going to, the same gay scene as themselves, they could -only converse in broken observations to each other, as they for a -moment came side by side. And even these detached sentences were often -drowned in the various screaming invitations to spend their money, -which were in that day poured forth upon passengers of all -denominations. - -"Methinks the king received us but coldly," said De Coucy, as he -gained D'Auvergne's ear for a moment, "after making us wait four days -too!--Methinks his hospitality runs dry." - -"Wine, will you wine? Good strong wine, fit for knights and nobles," -cried a loud voice at the door of one of the houses. - -"Cresses!--fresh water-cresses!" shrieked a woman with a basket in her -hand. - -"The king can scarce love me less than I love him," answered the count -in a low tone, as a movement of his horse brought him close to De -Coucy. - -"And yet," said his friend, in some surprise, "you, principally, -determined your father to reject all overtures from the Count of -Flanders, brought by Sir Julian of the Mount!" - -"Because I admire the king, though I love not the man," replied Count -Thibalt. - -"Baths! baths! hot baths!" cried a man with a napkin over his arm, and -down whose face the perspiration was streaming. "Hot! hot! hot! upon -my honour!--Bathe, lords and knights! bathe! 'Tis dusty weather." - -"Knight of Auvergne!" cried a voice close by. "Those that soar high, -fall farthest. Sir Guy de Coucy, the falcon was slain that checked at -the eagle, because he was the king of birds." - -A flush came into the cheek of Count Thibalt; and De Coucy started and -turned round in his saddle, to see who spoke. No one, however, was -near, but a man engaged in that ancient and honourable occupation of -selling hot pies, and a woman chaffering for a pair of doves with -another of her own sex. - -"By all the saints of France!" cried De Coucy, "some one named us. -What meant the fool by checking at the eagle? I see him not, or I -would check at him!" - -Count Thibalt d'Auvergne asked no explanation of the quaint proverb -that had been addressed to him; but only inquired of De Coucy, whether -'twas not like the voice of his villain--Gallon the fool. - -"No!" replied the knight.--"No! 'twas not so shrill. Besides, he is -gone, as he said, to inspect the lists some half-hour ago." - -In truth, no sooner did they approach the booths, which had been -erected by various hucksters and jugglers, at the end of the cemetery -of the Innocents, a short distance from the lists, than they beheld -Gallon the fool, with his jerkin turned inside out, amusing a crowd of -men, women, and children, with various tricks of his old trade. - -"Come to me!--come to me!" cried he, "all that want to learn -philosophy! I am the king of cats, and the patron of cock-sparrows. -Have any of you a dog that wants gloves, or a goat that lacks a -bonnet? Bring him me!--bring him me! and I will fit him to a -hair.--Haw, haw! haw, haw!" - -His strange laugh, his still stranger face, and his great dexterity, -were giving much delight and astonishment to the people, when the -appearance of De Coucy, who, he well knew, would be angry at the -public exhibition of his powers, put a stop to his farther feats; and -shouting, "Haw, haw! haw, haw!" he scampered off, and was safely at -home before them. - -The day of the tournament broke clear and bright; and long before the -hour appointed, the galleries were full, and the knights armed in -their tents. Nothing was waited for but the presence of the king; and -many was the impatient look of lady and of page, towards the street -which led to the side of the river. - -At length the sound of trumpets announced his approach; and, winding -up towards Champeaux, were seen the leaders of his body-guard--that -first small seed from which sprung and branched out in a thousand -directions the great body of a standing army. The first institution of -these serjeants of arms, as they were called, took place during -Philip's crusade in the Holy Land, where, feigning, or believing, his -life to be in danger from the poniards of the assassins, he attached -to his own person a guard of twelve hundred men, whose sole duty was -to watch around the king's dwelling. In France, though the same excuse -no longer existed, Philip was too wise to dismiss the corps which he -had once established, and which not only offered a nucleus for larger -bodies in time of need, but which added that pomp and majesty to the -name of king, that neither the extent of the royal domains, nor the -prerogatives of sovereignty, limited as they were in those days, could -alone either require or enforce. - -Slowly winding up through the streets towards the Champeaux, the -cavalcade of royalty seemed to delight in exhibiting itself to the -gaze of the people, who crowded the houses to the very tops; for, well -understanding the barbarous taste of the age in which he lived, no one -ever more feasted the public eye with splendour than Philip Augustus. - -First came the heralds two and two, with their many-coloured tabards, -exhibiting on their breasts the arms of their provinces. Next followed -on horseback, Mountjoy king-at-arms, surrounded by a crowd of -marshals, pursuivants, and valets on foot. He was dressed in a -sleeveless tunic of crimson, which opening in front displayed a robe -of violet velvet, embroidered with _fleur de lis_. On his head was -placed his crown, and in his hand a sort of staff or sceptre. He was -indeed, as far as personal appearance went, a very kingly person; and -being a great favourite amongst the people, he was received with loud -shouts of Denis Mountjoy! Denis Mountjoy! Blessings on thee, Sire -François de Roussy! - -Next appeared a party of the serjeants-at-arms, bearing their gilded -quivers and long bows; while each held in his right-hand the baton of -his immense brazen mace, the head or ball of which rested on his -shoulder. But then came a sight which obliterated all others. It was -the party of the king and queen. The monarch himself was mounted on a -_destrier_, or battle-horse, as black as night, whose every step -seemed full of the consciousness that he bore royalty. Armed -completely, except the casque, which was borne behind him by a page, -Philip Augustus moved the warrior, and looked the monarch; and the -same man, who had heard the hermit's rebuke with patience, ordered the -preparations of a banquet like a Lucullus; and played with the roses -in a woman's hair, now looked as if he could have crushed an empire -with a frown. - -Beside him, on a palfrey--as if for the contrast's sake, -milk-white--rode the lovely Agnes de Meranie. All that is known of her -dress is, that it also was white; for it seems that no one who looked -on her could remark any thing but her radiant beauty. As she moved on, -managing with perfect ease a high-spirited horse, whose light -movements served but to call out a thousand graces in his rider, the -glitter, and the pageant, and the splendour seemed to pass away from -the eyes of the multitude, extinguished by something brighter still; -and, ever and anon, Philip Augustus himself let his glance drop to the -sweet countenance of his queen, with an expression that woke some -sympathetic feeling in the bosoms of the people; and a loud shout -proclaimed the participation of the crowd in the sensations of the -king. - -Behind the king and queen rode a long train of barons and ladies, with -all the luxury of dress and equipage for which that age was -distinguished. Amongst the most conspicuous of that noble train were -Constance, Duchess of Brittany, and her son Arthur Plantagenet, of -whose character and fate we shall have more to speak hereafter. Each -great chieftain was accompanied by many a knight, and vassal, and -vavassour, with worlds of wealth bestowed upon their horses and their -persons. Following these again, came another large body of the King's -men-at-arms, closing the procession, which marched slowly on, and -entered the southern end of the lists; after which, traversing the -field amidst the shouts and gratulations of the multitude, the whole -party halted at the foot of a flight of steps leading to the splendid -gallery prepared for the king and queen. Here, surrounded by a crowd -of waving crests and glittering arms, Philip himself lifted Agnes from -her horse, and led her to her seat; while at the same time the -trumpets sounded for the various knights to make a tour round the -field, before proceeding to the sports of the day. Each, as he passed -by the royal gallery, saluted the king and queen by dropping the point -of his lance; and from time to time, Agnes demanded the name of the -different knights, whom either she did not know, or whose faces were -so concealed by the helmet as to render it difficult to distinguish -them. - -"Who is he, Philip?" demanded she, as one of the knights passed, "he -with the wivern in his casque, and the red scarf,--who is he? He sits -his horse nobly." - -"'Tis Charles de Tournon," replied the king; "a noble knight, called -the Comte Rouge. Here comes also Guillaume de Macon, my fair dame," -added the king, smiling, "with a rose on his shield, all for your -love." - -"Silly knight!" said Agnes. "He had better fix his love where he may -hope to win. But who is this next, with the shield sinople, bearing a -cross, gules, and three towers in chief?" - -"That is the famous Guy de Coucy," replied the King; "a most renowned -knight. If report speaks true, we shall see all go down before his -lance. And this who follows, and is now coming up, is the no less -famous Thibalt Count d'Auvergne"--and the king fixed his eyes upon his -wife with a keen, inquiring glance. - -Luckily, however, the countenance of Agnes showed nothing which could -alarm a mind like Philip's. - -"Count Thibalt d'Auvergne!" cried she, with a frank, unembarrassed -smile. "Oh! I know him well. He spent many months at my father's court -in going to the Holy Land. From him I first heard the praises of my -Philip, long, long ere I ever entertained a hope of being his wife. I -was scarce more than a child then, not much above fifteen--and yet I -forgot not those praises. He was a dear friend too--that Count -d'Auvergne--of my poor brother Alberic, who died in Palestine." The -queen added, with a sigh--"Poor Alberic! he loved me well!" - -"The fool lied!" said Philip internally: "all is frank and fair. The -fool lied!--and led me to slight a noble knight and powerful baron by -his falsehood!" and bending forward, as if to do away the coldness -with which he had at first treated the Count d'Auvergne, he answered -his salute with a marked and graceful inclination of the head. - -"Is it possible?" cried Agnes, after the Count had passed. "In truth, -I should never have known him, Philip, he is so changed. Why, when he -was at the court of Istria, he was a fresh young man; and now he is as -deadly pale and worn as one sick of the plague. Oh, what a horrible -place must be that Holy Land!--Promise me, Philip, on all the -Evangelists, never to go there again, let who will preach new -crusades:--nay, promise me, my Lord!" - -"I do! I do! sweet Agnes!" replied the king: "once in a life is quite -enough. I have other warfares now before me." - -After the knights had all passed, a short space of time intervened for -the various arrangements of the field; and then, the barriers being -opened, the tournament really commenced. Into the particulars of the -feats performed, as I have already said, I shall not enter: suffice it -that, as the king had predicted, all went down before De Coucy's -lance; and that Count Thibalt d'Auvergne, though not hurried on by the -same quick spirit, was judged, by the old knights, no way inferior to -his friend, though his valour bore a different character. The second -course had taken place, and left the same result; and many of the fair -dames in the galleries began to regret that neither of the two -companions in arms had been decorated with their colours; and to -determine upon various little arts and wiles, to engage one or other -of the two crusaders to bear some mark of theirs in any subsequent -tournament. - -Thus stood the day, when the voices of the heralds cried to pause, -much to the astonishment, not only of the combatants, but of the king -himself. The barriers opened, and, preceded by a stout priest bearing -a pontifical cross in silver, the cardinal of St. Mary, dressed as -_Legate à latere_, entered the lists, followed by a long train of -ecclesiastics.[14] - - --------------------- - -[Footnote 14: It will be understood that this sudden appearance of the -legate is a historical fact.] - --------------------- - - -A quick, angry flush mounted into the king's cheek, and his brow knit -into a frown, which sufficiently indicated that he expected no very -agreeable news from the visit of the legate. The cardinal, however, -without being moved by his frowns, advanced directly towards the -gallery in which he sat, and, placing himself before him, addressed -him thus:-- - -"Philip, King of France, I, the cardinal of St. Mary's, am charged, -and commanded, by our most holy father, the Pope Innocent, to speak to -you thus----" - -"Hold, Sir Cardinal!" cried the King, "Let your communication be for -our private ear. We are not accustomed to receive either ambassadors -or legates in the listed field." - -"I have been directed, Sir King," replied the legate, "by the superior -orders of his holiness, thus publicly to admonish you, wherever I -should find you, you having turned a deaf and contemptuous ear to the -frequent counsels and commands of the holy church. Know then, king -Philip, that with surprise and grief that a king of France should so -forget the hereditary piety of his race, his holiness perceives that -you still persist in abandoning your lawful wife, Ingerburge of -Denmark!" - -"The man will drive me mad!" exclaimed the king, grasping his -truncheon, as if he would have hurled it at the daring churchman, who -thus insulted him before all the barons of his realm. "Will no one -stay him?" - -Several of the knights and heralds advanced to interpose between the -legate and the king; but the cardinal waved them back; and, well -knowing that their superstitious veneration for his habit would -prevent them from silencing him by force, he proceeded boldly with his -speech. - -"Perceiving also," continued he, "that, taking advantage of an -unlawful and annulled divorce, weakly pronounced by your bishops, you -have taken to your bed another woman, who is not, and cannot be, your -wife!" - -A shriek from the women of the queen here interrupted the harangue of -the prelate, and all eyes instantly turned upon her. - -Simple surprise and astonishment had been the first emotion of Agnes -de Meranie, at seeing any one bold enough to oppose a will that, -according to all her ideas, was resistless; but gradually, as she -began to comprehend the scope of the legate's discourse, terror and -distress took possession of her whole frame. Her eyes strained on him, -as on some bad angel come to cross her young happiness; her lip -quivered; the warm glow of her cheek waxed faint and pale, like the -sunshine fading away from the evening sky; and, at the last terrible -words that seemed to seal her fate for ever, she fell back senseless -into the arms of her women. - -The scene of confusion that ensued is not to be described. - -"By the light of heaven! old man!" exclaimed Philip, "were it not for -thy grey hairs, I would strike thee dead!--Away with him! Let him -speak no more!--Men-at-arms! put him forth from the lists! Away with -him!--Agnes, my beloved!" he cried, turning to the queen, and taking -her small hand in his, "awake, awake! Fear not, dear Agnes! Is your -Philip's love so light as to be shaken by the impotent words of any -churchman in Christendom?" - -In the mean while the serjeants-at-arms hurried the prelate and his -followers from the lists, amidst many a bitter taunt from the -minstrels and trouvères, who feared not even then to attack with the -most daring satire the vices of the church of Rome. The ladies of -Agnes de Meranie pressed round their fair mistress, sprinkling her -with all kinds of essences and perfumed waters; some chattering, some -still screaming, and all abusing the daring legate, who had so pained -the heart of their lovely queen, and put a stop to the sports of the -day. The knights and barons all united in the cause of the princess by -every motive that had power in the days of chivalry:--youth, beauty, -innocence, and distress, shouted loudly, that they acknowledged her -for their sovereign, the queen of all queens, and the flower of all -ladies! - -Philip Augustus, with royal indignation still upon his brow, caught -gladly at the enthusiasm of his chivalry; and, standing forward in the -front of the gallery, with the inanimate hand of his lovely wife in -his left, and pointing to her deathlike cheek with the other, he -exclaimed, in a voice that passed all over the field--"Knights and -nobles of fair France! shall I suffer my hearth to be invaded by the -caprice of any proud prelate? Shall I yield the lady of my love for -the menace of any pope on earth? You, good knights!--you only can -judge! and, by Heaven's throne! you only shall be the judges!" - -"Life to the king!--life to the king! Denis Mountjoy!--Denis -Mountjoy!" shouted the barons, as if they were rallying round the -royal standard on the battle-field; and, at the same time, the waving -of a thousand scarfs, and handkerchiefs, and veils, from the galleries -around, announced how deep an interest the ladies of France took in a -question where the invaded rights of the queen came so home to the -bosoms of all. - -"Break up the sports for to-day!" cried Philip, waving his warder. -"This has disturbed our happiness for the moment; but we trust our -fair queen will be able to thank her loyal knights by the hour of -four, when we invite all men of noble birth here present to sup with -us in our great hall of the palace. For those who come too late to -find a seat in the great hall, a banquet shall be prepared in the -tower of the Louvre. Till then, farewell!" - -The fainting fit of Agnes de Meranie lasted so long, that it was found -necessary to carry her to the palace in a litter, followed, sadly and -in silence, by the same splendid train that had conducted her, as if -in triumph, to the tournament. - -In the mean while, for a short time, the knights who had come to show -their prowess and skill, and those noble persons, both ladies and -barons, who had graced the lists as spectators, remained in groups, -scattered over the field, and through the galleries, canvassing -vehemently what had taken place; and not the most priest-ridden of -them all, did not, in the first excitement of the moment, declare that -the conduct of both pope and cardinal was daring and scandalous, and -that the divorce which had been pronounced between Philip and -Ingerburge by the bishops of France ought to hold good in the eyes of -all Frenchmen. - -"Now, by the good Heaven!" cried De Coucy, raising his voice above all -the rest, "she is as fair a queen as ever my eyes rested on; and -though I cannot wear her colours, and proclaim her the star of my -love, because another vow withholds me, yet I will mortally defy any -man who says she is not lawfully queen of France.--Sound, trumpets, -sound! and you, heralds, cry--Here stands Guy de Coucy in arms, ready -to prove upon the bodies of any persons who do deny that Agnes -princess de Meranie is lawfully queen of France, and wife of Philip -the Magnanimous, that they are false and recreant, and to give them -the lie in their throat, wagering against them his body and arms in -battle, when and where they will appoint, on horseback or on foot, and -giving them the choice of arms!" - -The trumpets sounded, and the heralds who remained on the field -proclaimed the challenge of the knight: while De Coucy cast his -gauntlet on the ground. A moment's profound silence succeeded, and -then a loud shout; and no one answering his call, De Coucy bade the -heralds take up the glove and nail it on some public place, with his -challenge written beneath; for payment of which service, he twisted -off three links of a massive gold chain round his neck, and cast it to -the herald who raised his glove; after which he turned, and, rejoining -the Count d'Auvergne, rode back to throw off his arms and prepare for -the banquet to which they had been invited. - -"De Coucy," said D'Auvergne, as they passed onward, "I too would -willingly have joined in your challenge, had I thought that our lances -could ever establish Agnes de Meranie as queen of France; but I tell -you no, De Coucy! If the pope be firm, and firm he will be, as her -father too well knows, Philip will be forced to resign her, or to -trust to his barons for support against the church." - -"Well!" cried De Coucy, "and his barons will support him. Saw you not -how, but now, they pledged themselves to his support?" - -"The empty enthusiasm of a moment!" replied D'Auvergne bitterly; "a -flame which will be out as soon as kindled! Not one man in each -hundred there, I tell thee, De Coucy, has got one spark of such -enthusiasm as yours, which, like the Greek fire, flashes brightly, yet -burns for ever; and as few of them, the colder sort of determination, -which, like mine, burns without any flame, till all that fed it is -consumed." - -De Coucy paused. For a moment the idea crossed his mind of proposing -to D'Auvergne a plan for binding all the barons present by a vow to -support Philip against the church of Rome, while the enthusiasm was -yet upon them; but though brave almost to madness where his own person -was alone concerned, he was prudent and cautious in no small degree, -where the life and happiness of others were involved; and, remembering -the strife to which such a proposal, even, might give rise, he paused, -and let it die in silence. - - - - -CHAPTER XI. - - -The banquet passed, like the scene which followed the tournament, in -enthusiastic assertions of the fair queen's rights, although she was -not present. In this instance, Philip Augustus, all clear-sighted as -he was, suffered himself to be deceived by his wishes; and believed -fully that his barons would aid him in the resistance he meditated to -the usurped authority of the pope. - -The promises, however, which wine, and wassail, and festivity call -forth, are scarcely more lasting than the feast itself; and, without -we can take advantage of the enthusiasm before it dies, and render it -irrevocable by urging it into action, little can ever be gained from -any sudden emotion of a multitude. If Philip doubted its durability, -he did not suffer the shade of such a doubt to appear. The vaunt of -every young knight he thanked as a promise; and every expression of -admiration and sympathy, directed towards his queen, he affected to -look upon as a pledge to espouse her cause. - -The Count Thibalt d'Auvergne was the only one that made neither boasts -nor promises; and yet the king--whether judging his mind of a more -stable fabric than the others, or wishing to counterbalance the -coldness he had shown him on his first appearance at the court,--now -loaded him with honours, placed him near him, spoke to him on all -those subjects on which he deemed the count was best calculated to -speak: and affecting to consider his advice and assistance of great -import, in arranging the relations to be established between the crown -of France and the new French colony, which had taken Constantinople, -he prayed him to accompany the court to Compiègne, for which place it -set out the next day. - -The king's favour and notice fell upon the calm cold brow and dark -thoughtful eye of Thibalt d'Auvergne like sunshine in winter, melting -in no degree the frozen surface that it touched. The invitation, -however, he accepted; saying, in the same unmoved tone, that he was -anxious to see the queen, whom he had known in years long gone, and to -whom he could give fresh news from Istria, with many a loving greeting -from her father, whom he had seen as he returned from Palestine. - -The queen, Philip replied, would be delighted to see him, and to hear -all that he had to tell; for she had never yet forgot her own fair -country--nay, nor let that canker-worm of affection, absence, eat the -least bit away of her regard for those she loved. - -The very first, Count Thibalt took his leave and departed. De Coucy -rose, and was following; but the king detained him for a moment, to -thank him for the generous interest he had shown in his queen's -rights, which had not failed to reach his ears. He then asked, with a -slight shade of concern upon his brow, "Is your companion in arms, -beau sire, always so sad? It grieves me truly, to see him look so -possessed by sorrow! What is the cause thereof?" - -"By my faith! my lord, 'tis love, I believe," replied De Coucy; "some -fair dame of Palestine--I wot not whether heathen or Christian, -rightly; but all I know is this:--Some five years ago, when he first -joined us, then warring near Tyre, he was as cheerful a knight as ever -unhorsed a Saracen; never very lively in his mirth, yet loving gaiety -in others, and smiling often: when suddenly, about two or three years -after, he lost all his cheerfulness, abandoned his smiles, grew wan -and thin, and has ever since been the man you see him." - -The shade passed away from the king's brow; and saying, "'Tis a sad -pity! We will try to find some bright eyes in France that may cure -this evil love," he suffered De Coucy to depart. - -All that passed, relative to the reception of the legate, was -faithfully transmitted to Pope Innocent III.; and the very enthusiasm -shown by the barons of France in the cause of their lovely queen made -the pontiff tremble for his authority. The immense increase of power -which the bishops of Rome had acquired by the victory their incessant -and indefatigable intrigues had won, even over the spirit of Frederick -Barbarossa, wanted yet the stability of antiquity; and it was on this -account that Innocent III. dreaded so much that Philip might -successfully resist the domination of the church even in one single -instance. - -There were other motives, however, which, in the course, of the -contest about to be here recorded, mingled with his conduct a degree -of personal acrimony towards the king of France. Of an imperious and -jealous nature, the pontiff met with resistance first from Philip -Augustus, and his ambition came only in aid of his anger. The election -of the emperor of Germany was one cause of difference; Philip Augustus -supporting with all his power Philip of Suabia; and the pope not only -supporting, but crowning with his own hands, Otho, nephew of John, -king of England,--although great doubts existed in regard to his -legitimate election. - -As keen and clear-sighted as he was ambitious, Innocent saw that in -Philip Augustus he had an adversary as intent upon increasing his own -authority, as he himself could be upon extending the power of the -church. He saw the exact point of opposition; he saw the powerful mind -and political strength of his antagonist; but he saw also that -Philip's power, when acting against his own, must greatly depend upon -the progress of the human mind towards a more enlightened state, which -advance must necessarily be slow and difficult; while the foundations -of his own power had been laid by ages of superstition, and were -strengthened by all those habits and ceremonies to which the heart of -man clings in every state, but more especially in a state of darkness. - -Resolved at once to strike the blow, it happened favourably for the -views of the pope, that the first question where his authority was -really compromised, was one in which the strongest passions of his -adversary were engaged, while his own mind was free to direct its -energies by the calm rule of judgment. It is but justice also to say, -that though Innocent felt the rejection of his interference as an -insult, and beheld the authority of the church despised with no small -wrath, yet all his actions and his letters, though firm and decided, -were calm and temperate. Still, he menaced not without having resolved -to strike; and the only answer he returned to the request of the -cardinal of St. Mary's for farther instructions, was an order to call -a council of the bishops of France, for the purpose of excommunicating -Philip as rebel to the will of the church, and of fulminating an -interdict against the whole of the realm. So severe a sentence, -however, alarmed the bishops of France; and, at their intercession, -the legate delayed for a time its execution, in hopes that, by some -concession, Philip might turn away the wrath of the church. - -In the meanwhile, as if the blow with which he was menaced but made -him cling more closely to the object for whose sake he exposed -himself, Philip devoted himself entirely to divert the mind of Agnes -de Meranie from contemplating the fatal truth which she had learned at -last. He now called to her remembrance the enthusiasm with which his -barons had espoused her cause; he pointed out to her that the whole -united bishops of France had solemnly pronounced the dissolution of -his incomplete marriage with the Princess of Denmark; and he assured -her, that were it but to protect the rights of his clergy and his -kingdom from the grasping ambition of the see of Rome, he would resist -its interference, and maintain his independence with the last drop of -his blood. - -At other times he strove to win her away even from the recollection of -her situation; and he himself seemed almost to forget the monarch in -the husband. Sometimes it was in the forests of Compiègne, Senlis, or -Fontainbleau, chasing the stag or the boar, and listening to the music -of the hounds, the ringing horns, and the echoing woods. Sometimes it -was in the banquet and the pageant, the tournament or the _cour -plenière_, with all its crowd, and gaiety, and song. Sometimes it was -in solitude and tranquillity, straying together through lovely scenes, -where nature seemed but to shine back the sweet feelings of their -hearts; and every tone of all summer's gladness seemed to find an echo -in their bosoms. - -Philip succeeded; and Agnes de Meranie, though her cheek still -remained a shade paler than it had been, and her soft eyes had -acquired a look of pensive languor, had--or seemed to have--forgotten -that there was a soul on earth who disputed her title to the heart of -her husband, and the crown of her realm. She would laugh, and -converse, and sing, and frame gay dreams of joy and happiness to come, -as had been ever her wont; but it was observed that she would start, -and turn pale, when any one came upon her suddenly, as if she still -feared evil news; and, if any thing diverted her thoughts from the gay -current in which she strove to guide them, she would fall into a long -reverie, from which it was difficult to wake her. - -Thus had passed the time of Philip Augustus and Agnes de Meranie, from -their departure for Compiègne, the day after the tournament. The hours -of Count Thibalt d'Auvergne, however, had been spent in a very -different manner from that which he had anticipated. He had, it is -true, made up his mind to a painful duty; but it was a duty of another -kind he was called to perform. As his foot was in the stirrup to join -the royal cavalcade, for the purpose of proceeding to Compiègne, -according to the king's invitation, a messenger arrived from Auvergne, -bearing the sad news that his father had been suddenly seized with an -illness, from which no hope existed of his recovery; and D'Auvergne, -without loss of time, turned his steps towards Vic le Comte. - -On his arrival, he found his parent still lingering on the confines -between those two strange worlds, the present and the future: the one -which we pass through, as in a dream, without knowing the realities of -any thing around us; the other, the dreadful inevitability of which we -are fond to clothe in a thousand splendid hopes, putting, as it were, -a crown of glory on the cold and grimly brow of Death. - -'Twas a sad task to watch the flickering of life's lamp, till the -flame flew off for ever! The Count d'Auvergne, however, performed it -firmly; and having laid the ashes of his father in the earth, he -stayed but to receive the homage of his new vassals, and then turned -his steps once more towards Paris, leaving the government of Auvergne -to his uncle, the famous Count Guy, celebrated both for his jovial -humour and his predatory habits. - - - - -CHAPTER XII. - - -We must now once more go back a little in our history and return to -Sir Guy de Coucy, who, on the morning of his friend's departure for -Auvergne, stood at the door of their common dwelling to see him set -out. In the hurry of such a moment there had been no time for many of -those arrangements between the two friends, which the Count d'Auvergne -much wished to have made. However, as he embraced De Coucy at parting, -according to the custom of the day, he whispered in his ear: "The -besants we brought from the Holy Land are in my chamber. If you love -me, De Coucy, remember that we are brothers, and have all things in -common. I shall find you here at my return. If I come not soon I will -send you a messenger." De Coucy nodded his head with a smile, and, -leaning on his large two-handed sword, saw the Count d'Auvergne mount -his horse and depart. - -"Farewell, D'Auvergne!" said he, as he turned to re-enter the -house,--"perhaps we may never meet again; but De Coucy forgets not thy -generous kindness, though he will not use it. Our fortunes are far too -unequal for us longer to hold a common purse." - -Be it remarked, however, that the scruples which affected De Coucy on -this occasion were rather singular in the age in which he lived; for -the companionship of arms, which, in their romantic spirit, the -knights of even a much later period often vowed to each other, were -frequently of a stricter and more generous nature than any of our most -solid engagements of life at present; involving not only community of -fortune and of fate, but of friendships and of enmities, of pleasures -and pains, and sometimes of life or death.[15] When once two knights -had exchanged arms, as was often the case, it became their duty to -assist each other on every occasion, with body and goods, during the -expedition in which they were engaged; and sometimes, even for life, -to share all wealth between them, both present and to come; and in -case of one dying, while under an engagement to do battle, (or under a -wager of battle, as it was called,) his companion, or brother in arms, -was bound to fill his place, and maintain his honour in the duel. - - --------------------- - -[Footnote 15: Ducange cites the following formula from a work I cannot -meet with. The passage refers to a fraternity of arms between Majon, -high admiral of Sicily, and the archbishop of Palermo. - -"Dictum est præterea quod ii, juxta consuetudinem Siculorum, fraternæ -f[oe]dus societatis contraxerint, seseque invicem jurejurando -astrinxerunt ut alter alterum modis omnibus promoveret, et tam in -prosperis quàm in adversis unius essent animi, unius voluntatis atque -consilii; quisquis alterum læderet, amborura incurreret offensam." - -The same learned author cites a declaration of Louis XI. where he -constitutes Charles, Duke of Burgundy, his sole brother in arms, -thereby seeming to imply that this adoption of a brother in arms was -restricted to one.--_Ducange_, Dissert. xxi.] - --------------------- - - -While in the Holy Land, cut off from frequent supplies, and in -imminent and continual dangers, De Coucy had found no inequality -between himself and Count Thibalt de Auvergne; but now, placed amidst -the ruinous expense of tournaments and courts, he resolved to break -off at once an engagement, where no parity of means existed between -himself and his companion. - -Slowly, and somewhat sadly, De Coucy returned to his own chamber, -feeling a touch of care that his light heart had not often known -before. "Hugo de Barre," said he, "give me a flask of wine; I have not -tasted my morning's cup, and I am melancholy." - -"Shall I put some comfits in it, beau sire?" demanded the squire. "I -have often known your worship get over a bad fit of love, by a -ladle-full of comfits in a cup of Cyprus." - -"As thou wilt, Hugo," answered the knight; "but 'tis not love I want -to cure, now-a-day." - -"Marry! I thought, sire Guy," replied Hugo de Barre, "that it was all -for love of the Lady Isadore; but then, again, I fancied it was -strange, if you loved her, that you should leave her at Senlis, and -not go on with her to her own castle, and strive to win her!" - -"Her father was going to lodge with the sire de Montmorency, my cousin -Enguerand's sworn foe," replied De Coucy; "and even after that, he -goes not home, but speeds to Rouen, to mouth it with John, king of -England.--By my faith!" he added, speaking to himself, "that old man -will turn out a rebel from simple folly. He must needs be meddling -with treason, but to make himself important. Yet D'Auvergne says he -was a good warrior in his day. I wish I could keep his fingers from -the fire, were it but for his daughter's love--sweet girl!" - -Had De Coucy been alone, he would probably have thought what he now -said, yet would not have spoken it; but having begun by addressing his -attendant, he went on aloud, though the latter part of what he said -was, in reality, merely a part of his commune with himself. Hugo de -Barre, however, who had, on more than one occasion been thus made, as -it were, a speaking-block by his master, understood the process of De -Coucy's mind, and stood silent till his lord had done. - -"Then you do love the lady, beau sire?" said he at last, venturing -more than he usually did upon such occasions. - -"Well, well! Hugo, what is it to thee?" demanded De Coucy. "I will not -keep thee out all night, as when I courted the princess of Syracuse." - -"Nay, but I love the Lady Isadore better than ever I did the princess -of Syracuse," replied the squire; "and I would stay out willingly many -a night for her sake, so she would be my lord's true lady. Look ye, my -lord! You have seen her wear this bracelet of cloth of gold," he -continued, drawing forth a piece of fine linen, in which was wrapped a -broad band of cloth of gold, not at all unlike the bracelets of gilded -wire, lately so much the mode amongst the fair dames of London and -Paris. "I asked one of her maidens to steal it for me." - -"You did not, surely, Hugo!" cried De Coucy. "How dare you be so bold -with any noble lady, sirrah?" - -"Nay, then, I will give it back," replied the squire. "I had intended -the theft to have profited your lordship; but I will give it back. The -Lady Isadore, it is true, knew that her damsel took it; but still it -was a theft; and I will give it back again. She knew, too, that it was -I who asked it; and doubtless guessed it was you, beau sire, would -have it; but I had better give it back." - -"Nay, nay! good Hugo," replied De Coucy; "give it me. I knew not you -were so skilful in such matters. I knew you were a good scout, but not -in sir Cupid's army.--Give it me!" - -"Nay, beau sire, I had better give it back," replied the Squire; "and -then I will fall into my duty again, and look for nothing but -routiers, cotereaux, and the like. But there is something more I -wished to tell you, sir: old Giles, the squire of the good Count -Julian, told me, that if his lord keep his mind of going to Rouen, he -must needs in three weeks' time pass within sight of our own--that is -to say, your own--castle. Now, would it not be fair sport, to lay an -ambush for the whole party, and take them prisoners, and bring them to -the castle?" - -"By my faith! it would," replied the knight. "But how is this, -Hugo?--thou art a changed man. Ever since I have known thee, which is -since I was not higher than my dagger, thou hast shown thyself as -stiff and sturdy a piece of old iron, as any of the corslets that hang -by the wall; and now thou art craving bracelets, and laying ambushes -for fair ladies, as if thou hadst been bred up in the very palace of -Love. Methinks that same damsel, who stole the bracelet for thee, must -have woke up some new spirit in thy heart of stone, to make thine -outward man so pliable. Why, compared to what thou wert, Hugo, thou -art as a deer-skin coat to a steel plastron. Art thou not in love, -man? Answer me!" - -"Something like it, I fear me, beau sire," replied the squire. "And as -it is arranged between me and Alixe, that if you win the lady, I am to -have the maid, we are resolved to set our wits to work to help your -lordship on." - -"By my life! a hopeful plot," replied De Coucy: "and well do I know, -Hugo, that the maid's good word is often as much gained as the -mistress's smile. But go, order to saddle; leave the bracelet with me; -and as soon as the horses be ready, De Coucy will spur on for the home -of his fathers." - -The squire delivered the bracelet to his lord, and left the apartment; -and no sooner was he gone, than De Coucy carried the bracelet to his -lips, to his forehead, and his heart, with as much fervour of -devotion, as ever monk showed for the most sacred relic of his church. - -"She knew that her damsel took it!--she knew that it was for me!" -exclaimed he in an ecstasy of delight, which every one who can feel, -may have felt on discovering some such unlooked-for source of -happiness. Stretching out his hand, De Coucy then took up the rote, -which, as a true trouvère, he made his inseparable companion. It was -an age when poetry was a language--the real, not the figurative -language of love--when song was in the heart of every one, ready to -break forth the moment that passion or enthusiasm called for -aid;--and, in the acme of his gladness, the young knight sang to the -instrument a ballad, composed, indeed, long before; but the concluding -verse of which he altered to suit his feelings at the moment. - - - SONG. - - I. - - "I rode my battle-horse afar-- - A long, a long, and weary way; - Fading I saw night's latest star, - And morning's prime, and risen day, - But still the desert around me lay. - - II. - - On, on, o'er burning sands I rode, - Beneath a red and angry sky; - Burning, the air around me glow'd; - My tongue was parch'd, my lip was dry:-- - I would have given worlds for the west-wind's sigh. - - III. - - With fever'd blood, and fiery eye, - And rent and aching brow, I go; - When, oh the rapture to descry - The palm-trees green, the fountain low, - Where welling waters sweetly flow! - - IV. - - Through life, as o'er that Syrian plain, - Alone I've wander'd from a child, - Thirsting for love, yet all in vain, - 'Till now, when sweet and undefiled, - I find Love's fountain in the wild." - - -De Coucy sang, and then again pressed the token which he had obtained -to his lips, and to his heart; when suddenly a loud "Haw, haw! haw, -haw!" startled him from his pleasing dreams, and he saw Gallon the -fool standing beside him. - -"Haw, haw!" cried Gallon; "my master's turned juggler, and is playing -with scraps of gold ribbon, and singing songs to them. By my -dexterity! I'll give up the trade: the mystery is no longer -honourable--every fool can do it." - -"Take care that one fool does not get his ears slit," answered De -Coucy.--"Tell me, sir, and tell me truly,--for I know thee, Gallon, -and that thou art no more fool than may serve thy turn,--where hast -thou been since daybreak, this morning?" - -"I went out on the road to Compiègne," replied Gallon gravely, "to see -how the wolf looked in the sheepfold; and whether the falcon comported -himself sociably in the dove's nest. Farther, I sought to behold how -the shepherd enjoyed the sight of sir wolf toying with the lamb; and -still farther----" - -"Villain!" cried De Coucy, "what mean you? Speak me no more apologues, -or your skin shall suffer for it! What mean you, I say?" and De Coucy -suddenly seized the juggler by the arm, so as to prevent him from -escaping by his agility, which he frequently did, from the blow which -he menaced to bestow on him with his other hand. - -"Well! well!" cried Gallon, ever willing to say any thing that he -thought might alarm, or mortify, or pain his hearers. "I went first, -beau sire, to inquire of a dear friend of mine, at the palace--who -fell in love with me, because, and on account of, the simple beauty -and grace of my snout--whether it be true, that Philip the Magnificent -had taken actual possession of the lands of your aunt's husband, the -Count de Tankerville; and I find he has, and called in all the -revenues to the royal treasury. Oh! 'tis a great king and an -expeditious!--Haw, haw, haw!" and though within reach of the young -knight's arm. Gallon the fool could not repress his glee at the sight -of a slight shade of natural mortification that came over his lord's -countenance. - -"Let him," cried De Coucy,--"let him take them all! I would rather -that he had them than the duke of Burgundy. Better they should go to -strengthen a good king, than to nourish a fat and overgrown -vassal.--But you escape me not so, sir Gallon! You said you went on -the road to Compiègne to see how the wolf looked, in the sheepfold! -Translate, sir fool! Translate! What meant you?" - -"Simply to see Count Thibalt d'Auvergne and Queen Agnes de Meranie," -replied the jongleur.--"Haw, haw!--Is there any harm in that?" - -De Coucy started, as if some one had struck him, experiencing that -sort of astonishment which one feels, when suddenly some fact, to -which we have long shut our eyes, breaks upon us at once, in all the -sharpness of self-evidency--if one may use the word. "'Tis -impossible!" cried he. "It cannot be! 'Tis not to be believed!" - -"Haw, haw, haw!" cried Gallon the fool. "Not to be doubted, beau sire -De Coucy!--Did he not join your good knighthood as blithe and merry as -a lark, after having spent some three months at the court of Istria -and Moravia?--Did he not go on well and gaily, till the news came that -Philip of France had wedded Agnes de Meranie?--Then did he not, in -your own tent, turn paler than the canvass that covered him?--And did -he not thenceforth wax wan and lack-witted, sick and sorrowful?--Ha, -haw? Ha, haw!" - -"Cease thy grinning, knave!" cried De Coucy sharply, "and know, that -even if he does love the queen, 'tis in all honour and honesty; as one -may dedicate one's heart and soul, one's lance and song, to the -greatest princess on all the earth, without dreaming aught to her -dishonour." - -"Haw, haw, haw! haw, haw!" was all the answer of Gallon the fool; and -darting away from the relaxed grasp of De Coucy, on whose brow he saw -clearly a gathering storm, he rushed down, shouting "Haw, haw! haw, -haw!" with as keen an accent of triumph, as if he had gained a -victory. - -"Is it possible?" said the knight to himself, "that I have been blind -for nearly two years to what has been discovered by an idiot on the -instant? God bless us all, and the holy saints!--D'Auvergne! -D'Auvergne! I pity thee, from my soul! for where thou hast loved, and -loved so fair a creature, there wilt thou still love, till the -death. Nor art thou a man to seek to quench thy love in thy lady's -dishonour--to learn to gratify thy passion and to despise its object, -as some men would. Here thy very nobleness, like plumes to the -ostrich, is thy bane and not thy help. And Philip too. If e'er a king -was born to be jealous, he is the man. I would not for a dukedom love -so hopelessly. However, D'Auvergne, I will be near thee--near to thy -dangers, though not to thy wealth." - -At this point, the contemplations of De Coucy were interrupted by the -return of Hugo de Barre, his squire, informing him that the horses -were ready; and at the same time laying down on the table before his -lord a small leathern bag, apparently full of money. - -"What is that?" demanded De Coucy. - -"The ransom of the two knights' horses and armour, overthrown by your -lance in the yesterday's tournament," replied the squire. - -"Well, then, pay the two hireling grooms," said De Coucy, "whom we -engaged to lead the two Arabians from Auvergne, since we discharged -the Lombards who brought them thither." - -"They will not be paid, beau sire," replied the squire. "They both -pray you to employ the hire which is their due in furnishing them with -each a horse and arms, and then to let them serve under your banner." - -"Well, be it so, good Hugo," replied the knight. "Where--God knows -where I shall find food to cram their mouths withal! 'Twill add too, -however, to my poor following. Then, with thee and the page, and my -own two varlets, we shall make seven:--eight with Gallon the fool. By -my faith! I forgot the juggler, who is as stout a man-at-arms as any -amongst us. But, as I said, get thee gone with the men to the Rue St. -Victor, where the Haubergers dwell. Give them each a sword, a shield, -a corslet, and a steel bonnet: but make them cast away those long -knives hanging by their thighs which I love not;--they always make me -think of that one wherewith the villain slave of Mahound ripped up my -good battle-horse Hero; and would have slain me with it too, if I had -not dashed him to atoms with my mace. Ride quick, and overtake me and -the rest on the road: we go at a foot-pace." So saying, Guy de Coucy -descended the narrow staircase of his dwelling; and, after having -spoken for a few moments with one of the attendants of the Count -d'Auvergne, who had remained behind, he mounted his horse, and rode -slowly out of the city of Paris. - -There is no possible mode of progression, that I know of, more -engendering of melancholy than the foot-pace of a horse when one is -alone. It is so like the slow and retarded pace which, whether we will -or not, we are obliged to pursue on the high-road of life; and each -object, as it rises on our view, seems such a long age in its -approach, that one feels an almost irresistible desire, at every other -step, to give the whip or spur, and accelerate the heart's slow -beatings by some more rapid movement of the body. Did one wish to -cultivate their stupidity, let them ride their horse, at a walk, over -one of the long, straight roads of France. - -The face of the country, however, was in those days very different -from what it is at present; and the narrow, earthy road over which De -Coucy travelled, wound in and out over hills and through forests: now -plunging into the deep wood; now emerging by the bright stream; now -passing, for a short space, through vineyards and fields, with a -hamlet or a village by the road-side; now losing itself in wilds and -solitudes, where one might well suppose that Adam's likeness had been -never seen. - -The continual changing of the objects around relieved, of course, the -monotony of the slow pace at which De Coucy had condemned himself to -proceed, while expecting of his squire's return; and a calm sort of -melancholy was all he felt, as he revolved in his mind the various -points of his own situation and that of his friend the Count -d'Auvergne. - -In regard to himself, new feelings had sprung up in his -bosom--feelings that he had heard of, but never known before. He -loved, and he fancied he was beloved; and dreams, and hopes, and -expectations, softer, calmer, more profound than ever had reached him -in camps or courts, flowed in upon his heart, like the stream of some -deep, pure river, and washed away all that was rude and light, or -unworthy in his bosom. Yet, at the same time, all the tormenting -contentions of hope and fear--the fine hair balancings of doubt and -anxiety--the soul torturings of that light and malicious imp, Love, -took possession of the heart of De Coucy; and he calculated, within -the hundred thousandth part of a line, how much chance there existed -of Isadore of the Mount not loving him,--and of her loving some one -else,--and of her father, who was rich, rejecting him, who was -poor,--and of his having promised her to some one else;--and so on to -infinity. At length, weary of his own reasonings thereupon, and -laughing at himself for combating the chimeras of his own imagination, -he endeavoured to turn his thoughts to other things, humming as he -went-- - - - "'The man's a fool--the man's a fool - That lets Love use him for a tool: - But is that man the gods above, - Himself unused, who uses love.' - -"--And so will I," continued De Coucy mentally. "It shall prompt me to -great deeds, and to mighty efforts. I will go to every court in -Europe, and challenge them all to do battle with me upon the question. -I will fight in every combat and every skirmish that can be met with, -till they cannot refuse her to me, out of pure shame." - -Such were the determinations of De Coucy in the age of chivalry, and -he was one more likely than most men to keep such determinations. -They, however, like all resolutions, were of course modified by -circumstances; and in the mean while, his squire, Hugo, rejoined him -with the two varlets, who had been hired in Auvergne to lead his -horses, but who were now fitted to make a figure in the train of so -warlike a knight. - -Still the prospect of his cold and vacant home, with no smile to give -him welcome, and, as he well knew, nothing but poverty for his -entertainment, sat somewhat heavily upon the young knight's heart. To -lodge upon the battle plain, under a covering that scarce excluded the -weather; to feed on the coarsest and most scanty food; to endure all -perils and privations, for chivalry's, religion's, or his country's -sake, was nothing to the bold and hardy soldier, whose task and pride -it was so to suffer: but, for the châtelain, De Coucy, to return to -the castle where his fathers had lived in splendour,--to the bowers -and halls where his infancy had been nursed with tenderness,--and to -find all empty and desolate; the wealth and magnificence wasted in the -thousand fruitless enterprises of the crusades, and the loved and -familiar laid low in the melancholy dwellings of the gone, was bitter, -sadly bitter, even for a young, light heart, and unquenchable spirit -like his. - -One of his ancestors, who, in the reign of Henry the First, had -founded the younger branch of the De Coucy's, of which he was now the -sole representative, had done important services to the crown, and had -been rewarded by the hand of Aleonore de Magny, on the Seine, heiress -of the last _terre libre_, or free land, in France; and this his race -had maintained, in its original freedom, against all the surrounding -barons, and even against the repeated efforts of every successive -king, who, on all occasions, attempted to exact homage by force, or to -win it by policy. His father, indeed, before taking the cross, which -he did at the persuasion of Louis the Seventh, had put his lands under -the protection of the king, who, on his part, promised to guard its -inviolability against all and every one; and acknowledged by charter -under his hand and seal, that it was free and independent of the -crown. - -The _manoir_, or _castel_, of every baron of the time, was always a -building of more or less strength; but it is to be supposed, of -course, that the château attached to lands in continual dispute, was -fortified with an additional degree of precaution and care. Nor was -this wanting in the château of De Coucy Magny, as it was called: wall, -and battlement, tower, turret, and bartizan, overhung every angle of -the hill on which it was placed, and rendered it almost impregnable, -according to the mode of warfare of those days. - -When De Coucy had left it, with his father's men-at-arms, though age -had blackened it, not one stone was less in the castle-walls,--not a -weed was on the battlements; and even the green ivy, that true -parasite which sucks the vital strength of that which supports it, was -carefully removed from the masonry. - -But, oh! how fast decay speeds on, even by the neglect of ten short -years! When De Coucy returned, the evening sun was setting behind the -hill on which the castle stood; and, as he led his scanty band of -horsemen up the winding and difficult path, he could see, by the -rough, uneven outline of the dark mass before him, what ravages time -had already made. High above the rest, the donjon, which used to seem -proud of its square regularity, now towered with one entire angle of -its battlements given way, and with many a bush and shrub waving its -long feathery foliage from window and from loophole; while the -neglected state of the road, and even the tameness of the wild animals -in the woods near the château; the hares and the deer, which stood and -gazed with their large round eyes for many moments at De Coucy and his -followers before they started away, told, with a sad moral, that man -was seldom seen there. - -De Coucy sighed as he rode on; and, stopping at the gates of the -barbican, which, thickly plated and studded with iron, opposed all -entrance, wound a long blast upon his horn. A moment after, the noise -of bolts and bars was heard, as if the doors were about to be thrown -open; but then again came the sound of an old man's voice, exclaiming -in a tone of querulous anger--"Hold, hold! Villain Calord! Will you -give up the castle to the cotereaux? Hold, I say! or I will break thy -pate! I saw them from the beffroy. They are a band of cotereaux. Go -round to the serfs' sheds, and bid them come and take their bows to -the walls. Up you, and ring the bancloche, that we may have the -soldiers from Magny!" - -"Onfroy! Onfroy!" shouted De Coucy. "Open your gates! 'Tis I, Guy de -Coucy!" - -"Your voice I know not!" roared the old man in reply. "My young lord -had a soft, sweet voice; and yours is as deep as a bell. I know not -your voice, fair sir.--Man the walls, I say, Calord! 'Tis all a -trick," he continued, speaking to his companion. "Sound the -bancloche!" - -"If you know not my voice," cried De Coucy, "surely you should know -the blast I have sounded on my horn!" - -"Sound again, beau sire!--sound again!" cried the old man. "I will -know your blast among ten thousand, if you be a De Coucy; and if you -be my young lord, I will know it in all the world." - -De Coucy put his horn to his lips and reiterated his blast, when -instantly the old man exclaimed--"'Tis he!--'tis he, Calord!--Open the -gates--open the gates, quick! lest I die of joy before I see his face -again! 'Tis he himself! The blessed Virgin, queen of heaven, be -praised for all things--Give me the keys--give me the keys, Calord!" -and no sooner were the doors pushed back, than casting himself on his -knees before his lord's horse, with the tears of joy coursing each -other rapidly down his withered face, the old seneschal exclaimed, -"Enter, noble châtelain! and take your own; and God be praised, my -dear boy! and the holy Virgin, and St. John, and St. Peter, but more -especially St. Martin of Tours! for having brought you safe back again -from the dangers of Palestine, where your noble father has left his -valiant bones! Here are the keys, which I offer into your hand, beau -sire," he continued, looking earnestly at De Coucy, and wiping the -salt rheum that obscured his sight. "And yet I can scarce believe," he -added, "that young Guy, the last of the three fair youths--he who was -not up to my shoulder when he went, whom I first taught to draw a bow, -or wheel a horse--that young Guy, the page--and a saucy stripling he -was too--my blessing on his waggish head!--that young Guy the page -should have grown into so tall and strong a man as you, beau -sire!--Are you not putting upon me? Was it truly you that blew that -blast?" and his eye ran over the persons who followed behind his -lord.--"But no!" he added, "it must be he! I know his blue eye, and -the curl of his lip; and I have heard how he is a great knight -now-a-days, and slays Saracens, and bears away the prizes at -tournays:--I have heard it all!" - -De Coucy calmly let the old man finish his speech, without offering to -take the keys, which from time to time he proffered, as a sort of -interjection between the various parts of his disjointed discourse. -"It is even I, good Onfroy," replied he at last: "keep the keys!--keep -the keys, good old man!--they cannot be in worthier hands than yours. -But now let us in. I bring you, as you see, no great reinforcement; -but I hope your garrison is not so straitened for provisions, that you -cannot give us some supper, for we are hungry, though we be few." - -"We will kill a hog--we will kill a hog, beau sire!" replied the old -man. "I have kept chiefly to the hogs, beau sire, since you were -gone, for they cost nothing to keep--the acorns of the forest serve -them--and they have increased wonderfully! Oh, we have plenty of hogs; -but as to cows, and sheep, and things of that kind, that eat much and -profit little, I was obliged to abandon them when I sent you the last -silver I could get, as you commanded." - -De Coucy signified his perfect indifference as to whether his supper -consisted of mutton, beef, or pork; and riding through the barbican, -into the enclosure of the walls, he crossed the court and alighted at -the great gates of the hall, which were thrown open to receive him. - -Calord, the servant or varlet of the seneschal, had run on before, to -light a torch; for the day was beginning to fail, and the immense -apartment was of its own nature dark and gloomy; but still, all within -was dim. The rays of the torch, though held high, and waved round and -round, scarcely served to show some dark lustreless suits of armour -hung against the walls; and the figures of some of the serfs, who had -stolen into the farther extremity of the hall, to catch a glimpse of -their returned lord, seemed like spirits moving about on the dark -confines of another world; while more than one bat, startled even by -the feeble light, took wing and fluttered amongst the old banners -overhead. At the same time, as if dreary sounds were wanting to -complete the gloominess of the young knight's return, the clanging of -his footsteps upon the pavement of the empty hall, awoke a long, wild -echo, which, prolonged through the open doors communicating with -untenanted halls and galleries beyond, seemed the very voice of -solitude bewailing her disturbed repose. - -It all fell cold upon De Coucy's heart; and, laying his hand on the -old seneschal's shoulder, as he was about to begin one of his long -discourses:--"Do not speak to me just now, good Onfroy!" said the -young knight; "I am not in a vein to listen to any thing. But throw on -a fire in yon empty hearth; for, though it be July, this hall has a -touch of January. Thou hast the key of the books too:--bring them -all down, good Onfroy; I will seek some moral that may teach -contentment.--Set down my harp beside me, good page." And having given -these directions, De Coucy cast himself into the justice-chair of his -ancestors, and, covering his eyes with his hands, gave himself up to -no very sweet contemplations. - - - - -CHAPTER XIII. - - -It would seem a strange command in our day, were any one to order his -servant to bring down the library; and certainly would infer a much -more operose undertaking than fell to the lot of old Onfroy, the -seneschal, who, while Calord, his man, cast almost a whole tree in the -chimney, and the varlets of De Coucy unloaded his baggage-horses, -easily brought down a small wooden box, containing the whole -literature of the château. And yet, perhaps, had not the De Coucys, -from father to son, been distinguished trouvères, no such treasure of -letters would their castle have contained; for, to count the nobles of -the kingdom throughout, scarce one in a hundred could read and write. - -De Coucy, however, had wasted--as it was then called--some of his -earlier years in the study of profane literature, till the death of -his two elder brothers had called him from such pursuits; from which -time his whole course of reading had been in the romances of the day, -where figured either Charlemagne with his peers and paladins, or the -heroes, writers, and philosophers of antiquity, all mingled together, -and habited as knights and magicians. - -A manuscript, however, in those days, was of course much more precious -in the eyes of those who could read, than such a thing possibly can be -now; and De Coucy, hoping, as many have done since, to shelter himself -behind a book, from the sharp attacks of unpleasant thought, eagerly -opened the manifold bars and bucklings of the wooden case, and took -out the first vellum that his hand fell upon. This proved to be but a -collection of tensons, lais, and pastourelles,--all of which he knew -by heart, so that he was obliged to search farther. The next he came -to had nearly shared the same fate, being a copy of the Life of Louis -the Fat, written in Latin a few years before, by Suger, abbot of St. -Denis. The Latin, however, was easy, and De Coucy's erudition coining -to his aid, he read various passages from those various pages, wherein -the great minister who wrote it gives such animated pictures of all -that passed immediately previous to the very age and scenes amidst -which the young knight was then living. At length his eye rested on -the epigraph of the sixteenth chapter, "Concerning the treachery -committed at the Roche Guyon, by William, brother-in-law of the -king;--concerning, also, the death of Guy; and the speedy vengeance -that overtook William." - -No title could have been more attractive in the eyes of De Coucy; and -skipping a very little of his text, where his remembrance of the -language failed him, he went on to read. - -"Upon a promontory formed by the great river Seine, at a spot -difficult of access, is built an ignoble castle, of a frightful -aspect, called La Roche Guyon. On the surface of the promontory the -castle is invisible, being hollowed out of the bowels of the high -rock. The skilful hand of him who formed it has cut the high rock -itself on the side of the hill, and by a mean and narrow opening has -practised a subterranean habitation of immense extent. - - * * * * * - -"This subterranean castle, not more hideous in the sight of men than -in the sight of God, had about this time for its lord, Guy de la Roche -Guyon,--a young man of gentle manners, a stranger to the wickedness of -his ancestors. He had indeed interrupted its course, and showed -himself resolved to lead a tranquil and honourable life, free from -their infamous and greedy rapacity. - -"Surprised by the very position of his wretched castle, and massacred -by the treachery of his own father-in-law, the most wicked of the -wicked, he lost, by an unexpected blow, both his dwelling and his -life. - -"William, his father-in-law, was by birth a Norman; and, unequalled in -treachery, he made himself appear the dearest friend of his daughter's -husband. This man, tormented by black envy, and brewing wicked -designs, unhappily found, on the evening of a certain Sunday, an -opportunity of executing his diabolical designs. He came then, with -his arms covered with a mantle, and accompanied by a handful of -assassins; and mingled himself, though with very different thoughts, -amongst a crowd of pious people hastening to a church, which -communicated by a passage in the rock with the subterranean castle of -Guy. For some time, while the rest gave themselves up to prayer, he -feigned to pray also; but, in truth, occupied himself in examining -attentively the passage communicating with the dwelling of his -son-in-law. At that moment, Guy entered the church; when, drawing his -sword, and seconded by his criminal associates, William, madly -yielding to the iniquity of his heart, cast himself into the doorway, -and struck down his son-in-law, who was already smiling a welcome upon -him, when he felt the edge of his sword. The noble bride of the -châtelain, stupefied at the sight, tore her hair and her cheeks, after -the manner of women in their anger, and running towards her husband, -without fearing the fate that menaced her, she cast herself upon him -to cover his body from the blows of the murderer, crying, while he -received a thousand wounds,--'Vile butchers! slay me rather than -him!--What has he done to merit death?'" - - * * * * * - -"Seizing her by the hair, the assassins dragged her away from her -husband, who, crushed by their repeated blows, pierced by their -swords, and almost torn in pieces with his various wounds, soon -expired under their hands. Not contented yet, with a degree of cruelty -worthy of Herod, such of his unhappy children as they could find they -dashed mercilessly against the rock--"[16] - - --------------------- - -[Footnote 16: This singular picture of the barbarism of the age -immediately preceding that of Philip Augustus is rendered as literally -as possible from the Life of Louis le Gros by Suger, Abbot of St. -Denis.] - --------------------- - - -"Give me my lance!" cried De Coucy, starting up, with his blood -boiling at this picture of an age so near his own--"give me my lance, -ho! By all the saints of France----" - -But at that moment remembering that the event which Suger recounted -must have taken place full fifty years before, and therefore that none -of the actors therein could be a fit object for the vengeance which he -had thought of inflicting with his own hand, he sat down again, and -read out the tale, running rapidly through the murderer's first -triumphant contemplation of the property he had obtained by the death -of his son-in-law, and even of his own daughter, but pausing with an -angry sort of gladness over the detail of the signal punishment -inflicted on him and his accomplices. Nor did he find the barbarous -aggravation of tearing his heart from his bosom, and casting his body, -attached to a plank, into the river Seine, to float to his native -place, in any degree too horrible an award for so horrible a villain. -On the contrary, starting from his chair, with all the circumstances -of his own fate forgotten, he was striding up and down the hall, -wishing that this same bloodthirsty Guillaume had been alive then to -meet him in fight; when suddenly, just as the old seneschal was -bustling in to lay out the table for his young lord's supper, the -long, loud blast of a horn sounded at the outer gates. - -"Throw open the gates, and see who is there!" cried De Coucy. "By the -blessed rood! I have visiters early!" - -"In the holy Virgin's name! beau sire, open not the gates to-night!" -cried the old seneschal. "You do not know what you do. All the -neighbouring barons have driven the cotereaux off their own lands on -to yours, because it is here a _terre libre_; and there are at least -two thousand in the woods round about. Be ruled. Sir Guy!--be ruled!" - -"Ha, say you?" cried De Coucy. "But how is it, good Onfroy, that you -can then drive out the swine you speak of, to feed in the forest?" - -"Because--because--because, beau sire," replied the old man, -hesitating as if he feared the effect of his answer,--"because I -agreed with their chief, that if he and his would never show -themselves within half a league of the castle, I would pay him a -tribute of two fat hogs monthly. - -"A tribute!" thundered De Coucy, striking his clenched fist upon the -table--"a tribute!" Then suddenly lowering his voice, he added: "Oh, -my good Onfroy! what are the means of a De Coucy shrunk to, that his -castle, in his absence even, should pay a tribute to thieves and -pick-purses! How many able serfs have you within the walls? I know -your power was small. How many?" - -"But nine good men, and three old ones," replied the seneschal, -shaking his head sadly; "and they are but serfs, you know, my lord--I -am but weakling, now-a-day; and Calord, though a freeman, has known no -service." - -"And how many vassals bound to furnish a man?" demanded De -Coucy.--"Throw open the gates, I say!" he continued, turning fiercely -upon Calord, while the horn sounded again. "I would fain see the -coterel who should dare to take two steps in this hall with Guy de -Coucy standing by his own hearth. How many vassals, Onfroy?" - -"But seven, beau sire," replied the old man, looking from time to time -towards the door of the hall, which led out into the court, and which -Calord had left open behind him,--"but seven, Sir Guy; and they are -only bound to a forty days' riding in the time of war." - -"And now tell me, Onfroy," continued De Coucy, standing as calmly with -his back towards the door as if he had been surrounded by a host of -his friends. "If you have paid this tribute, why are you now afraid of -these thieves?" - -"Because, Sir Guy," replied the seneschal, "the last month's hogs have -not been sent; there being soldiers of the king's down at the town, -within sound of the bancloche.--But see, Sir Guy! see! they are -pouring into the court! I told you how 'twould be!--See, see!--torches -and all! Well, one can die now as well as a week hence!" - -De Coucy turned, and at first the number of horsemen that were filing -into the court, two at a time, as they mounted the steep and narrow -road, almost induced him to bid the gates be shut, that he might deal -with them with some equably: but a second glance changed his purpose, -for though here and there was to be seen a haubert or a plastron -glistening in the torch-light, by far the greater part of the horsemen -were in the garb of peace. - -"These are no cotereaux, good Onfroy," said he, staying the old -seneschal, who was in the act of drawing down from the wall some rusty -monument of wars long gone. "These are peaceable guests, and must be -as well treated as we may. For the cotereaux, I will take order with -them before I be two days older; and they shall find the woods of De -Coucy Magny too hot a home for summer weather.--Who is it seeks De -Coucy?" he continued, advancing as he saw one of the cavalcade -dismounting at the hall door. - -"Guillaume de la Roche Guyon," replied the stranger, walking forward -into the hall; while De Coucy, with his mind full of all he had just -been reading connected with that name, instinctively started back, and -laid his hand on his dagger; but, instantly remembering himself, he -advanced to meet the cavalier, and welcomed him to the château. - -The stranger was a slight young man, without other arms than his -sword; but he wore knightly spurs and belt, and in the front of his -hat appeared the form of a grasshopper, beautifully modelled in gold. -His features had instantly struck De Coucy as being familiar to him, -but it was principally this little emblem, joined with a silk scarf -hanging from his neck, that fully recalled to his mind the young -troubadour he had seen at the château of Vic le Comte. - -"I crave your hospitality, beau sire, for myself and train," said the -young stranger. "Hardly acquainted with this part of fair France, for -my greater feofs lie in sweet Provence, I have lost my way in these -forests--But methinks we have met before, noble châtelain;" and as he -recognised De Coucy, a slight degree of paleness spread over the -youth's face. - -De Coucy, however, remarked it not: his was one of those generous -natures, from which resentments pass like clouds from the summer sun, -and he forgot entirely a slight feeling of jealousy which the young -troubadour had excited in his bosom while at Vic le Comte; and, -instead of wishing, as he had then done, to have him face to face in -deadly arms, he welcomed him to his château with every hospitable -greeting. - -"'Tis but an hour since I arrived myself, good knight," said he; "and -after a ten years' absence my castle is scantily furnished for the -reception of such an honourable guest. But see thou servest us the -best of all we have, Onfroy, and speedily." - -"Haw, haw! haw, haw!" cried Gallon the fool, with his head protruded -through one of the doors--"haw, haw! The lion feasted the fox, and the -fox got the best of the dinner." - -"I will make thee juggle till thy limbs ache," said De Coucy, "and -this very night. Sir Gallon! So will I punish thine insolence,--'Tis a -juggler slave, beau sire," he continued, turning to Guillaume de la -Roche Guyon, who gazed with some astonishment at the juggler's -apparition. "I bought him of the Infidels, into whose power he had -fallen, several years ago. He must have been once a shrewd-witted -knave, and wants not sense now when he chooses to employ it; but for -some trick he played his miscreant master, the Saracen tied him by the -legs to his horse's tail one day, and dragged him a good league across -the sands to sell him at our camp, in time of truce. Poor Gallon -himself says his brain was then turned the wrong way, and has never -got right again since, so that he breaks his sour jests on every one." - -The tables were soon spread, and the provisions, which indeed -consisted of little else than pork, or _bacon_, as it was then called -in France, with the addition of two unfortunate fowls, doomed to -suffer for their lord's return, were laid out in various trenchers all -the way down the middle of the board. De Coucy and his guest took -their places, side by side, at the top; and all the free men in the -train of either, were ranged along the sides. No fine _dressoir_, -covered with silver and with gold, ornamented the hall of the young -knight; all the plate which the crusades had left in his castle, -consisting of two large hanaps, or drinking cups, of silver, and a -saltcellar in the form of of a ship. Jugs of earthenware, and cups of -horn, lay ranged by platters of wood and pewter; and a momentary sting -of mortified pride passed through De Coucy's heart, as the poverty of -his house stood exposed to the eyes of the young troubadour. - -For his part, however, Guillaume de la Roche seemed perfectly -contented with his fare and reception; praised the wine, which was -indeed excellent, and evinced a traveller's appetite towards the hot -steaks of pork, and the freshly slaughtered fowls. - -Gradually De Coucy began to feel more at his ease, and, forgetting the -poverty of his household display, laughed and jested with his guest. -Pledging each other in many a cup, and at last adding thereto many a -song, the hours passed rapidly away. Gallon the fool was called; and a -stiff cord being stretched across the apartment, he performed feats -thereon, that would have broken the heart of any modern rope-dancer, -adding flavour and piquancy to the various contortions of his limbs, -by the rich and racy ugliness of his countenance. - -"That cannot be his real nose?" observed the young Provençal, turning -with an inquiring look to De Coucy. - -"By all the saints of heaven! it is," replied De Coucy; "at least, I -have seen him with no other." - -"It cannot be!" said the troubadour, almost in the words of -Slawkenbergius, "There never was a nose like that! 'Tis surely a -sausage of Bijorre--both shape, and colour, and size. I will never -believe it to be a true nose!" - -"Ho! Gallon," cried De Coucy. "Bring thy nose here, and convince this -fair knight that 'tis thine own lawful property." - -Gallon obeyed; and jumping down from his rope, approached the place -where the two knights sat, swaying his proboscis up and down in such a -manner, as to show that it was almost preternaturally under the -command of his volition. - -This, however, did not satisfy the young Provençal, who, as he came -nearer, was seized with an irresistible desire to meddle with the -strange appendix to the jongleur's face; and, giving way to this sort -of boyish whim, at the moment when Gallon was nearest, he seized his -nose between his finger and thumb, and gave it a tweak fully -sufficient to demonstrate its identity with the rest of his flesh. - -Gallon's hand flew to his dagger; and it was already gleaming half out -of the sheath, when a loud "How now!" from De Coucy stayed him; and -affecting to take the matter as a joke, he threw a somerset backwards, -and bounded out of the hall. - -"I could not have resisted, had he been an emperor!" said the young -man, laughing. "Oh, 'tis a wonderful appendage, and gives great -dignity to his countenance!" - -"The dignity of ugliness," said De Coucy. "But take care that Gallon -the fool comes not across you with his dagger. He is as revengeful as -an ape." - -"Oh, I will give him some gold," said the troubadour. "One touch of -such a nose as that is worth all the sheckles of Solomon's temple." - -De Coucy laughed, and the evening passed on in uninterrupted glee and -harmony; but when the young knight found that his new companion was -the grandson of the unfortunate Guy de la Roche Guyon, the account of -whose assassination he had just read, his heart seemed to open to him -more than ever; and telling him, with a smile at the remembrance of -having called for his lance, how much the history had moved him, Guy -de Coucy poured forth his free and generous heart in professions of -interest and regard. The young stranger seemed to meet him as frankly; -but to a close observer perhaps, the very rounding of his phrases -would have betrayed more study than was consistent with the same -effusion of feeling which might be seen in all De Coucy's actions. - -The châtelain, however, did not remark any defect; but after having -commanded a sleeping cup to be brought to the young Provençal's -bedroom, he led him thither himself. Here indeed his pride was -somewhat gratified to find that the old seneschal had preserved the -sleeping apartments with the most heedful care from the same decay -that had affected the rest of the castle, and that the rich tapestries -over the walls, the hangings of the bed, and its coverings of miniver -and sable, attested that the family of De Coucy Magny had once at -least known days of splendour. - -The next morning, by sunrise, the whole party in the castle were -stirring; and Guillaume de la Roche Guyon gave orders to prepare his -horses. De Coucy pressed his stay, but could not prevail; and after -having adduced a thousand motives to induce his guest to prolong his -visit, he added one, which to his mind was irresistible. "I find," -said he, "that during my absence, fighting for the recovery of -Christ's cross and sepulchre, a band of lawless routiers and cotereaux -have refuged themselves in my woods. Some two thousand, they are -called; but let us strike off one-half for exaggeration. Now, I -propose to drive them out with fire and sword, and doubt not to muster -fifty good men-at-arms. Your train amounts to nearly the same number, -and I shall be very happy to share the honour and pastime with so fair -a knight, if you be disposed to join me." - -The young man coloured slightly, but declined. "Important business," -he said, "which he was afraid must have suffered by the mishap of his -having lost his way the evening before, would utterly prevent him from -enjoying the great honour of fighting under Sir Guy de Coucy;--but he -should be most happy," he added, "to leave all the armed men of his -train, if they could be of assistance in expelling the banditti from -the territories of the Sire de Coucy. As for himself he no way feared -to pursue his journey with merely his unarmed servants." - -De Coucy, however, declined--somewhat drily too; his favourable -opinion of the young stranger being greatly diminished by his -neglecting, on any account, so fair an opportunity of exercising his -prowess and gaining renown. He conducted him courteously to his horse, -notwithstanding, drank the stirrup cup with him at parting, and, -wishing him a fair and prosperous journey, returned into his castle. - -Guillaume de la Roche Guyon rode on in silence at the head of his -troop, till he had descended to the very bottom of the hill on which -the château stood; then, turning to one of his favourite retainers, as -they entered the forest--"By the Lord! Philippeau," cried he, "saw ye -ever such beggarly fare? I slept not all night, half-choked as I was -with hog's flesh. And did you hear how he pressed me to my meat, as if -he would fain have choked me outright? The Lord deliver us from such -poor châtelains, and send them back to fight in Palestine. - -"So say I, beau sire," replied the retainer: "if they will take ship -thither, we will pray for a fair wind." - -"And the cups of horn, Philippeau," cried his lord, "and the wooden -platters--did you mark them? Oh, they were well worthy the viands they -contained!" - -"So say I, beau sire," replied the living echo. "May they never -contain any thing better!--for château and châtelain, dinner and -dishes, were all of a piece." - -"And think of his dreaming that I would go against the honest -cotereaux with him!" cried the youth--"risking my horse and my life, -and losing my time: all to rid his land of some scores of men as brave -as himself, I dare say, and a great deal richer. 'Twould have been a -rare folly, indeed!" - -"So say I, beau sire," rejoined the inevitable Philippeau; "that -would have been turning his man before he had shown himself your -master.--Ha, ha, ha!" - -"Haw, haw, haw!" shouted a voice in answer, whose possessor remained -for a moment invisible. The next instant, however, the legs of a man -appeared dangling from one of the trees, a few yards before them; then -down dropped his body at the extent of his arms; and, letting himself -fall like a piece of lead, Gallon the fool stood motionless in their -way. - -"Ha!" cried Guillaume de la Roche, drawing forward what was called his -_aumonière_[17], a sort of pouch by his side, and taking out a couple -of pieces of gold, "Our good jongleur come for his guerdon!--Hold, -fellow!" and he cast the money to Gallon the fool, who caught each -piece before it fell to the ground. - - --------------------- - -[Footnote 17: This part of the dress was a small pouch borne under the -arm, and called escarcelle, or pera, when carried by pilgrims to the -Holy Land. With the utmost reverence for the learning, talent, and -patience of Ducange, it appears to me that he was mistaken in his -interpretation of a passage of Cassian, relative to this part of the -pilgrim's dress. The sentence in Cassian is as follows: "Ultimus est -habitus eorum pellis caprina, quæ melotes, vel pera appellatur, et -baculus;" which Ducange affirms to mean, that they wore a dress of -goat-skins, a wallet, and a stick. Embarrassed by taking _habitus_ in -the limited sense of a garment, I should rather be inclined to think -that the author merely meant that the last part of their (the monks') -dress was what is called a pera, made of goat-skins, and a stick, and -not three distinct articles, as Ducange imagines.--See _Ducange_, -Dissert. xv.] - --------------------- - - -"Haw, haw! haw, haw!" cried Gallon. "Gramercy, beau sire! gramercy! -Now will I tell thee a piece of news," he continued in his abrupt and -unconnected manner,--"a piece of news that never should you have heard -but for these two pieces of gold. Your lady love is at the castle of -the Sire de Montmorency. Speed thither fast, and you shall win her -yet.--Haw, haw! Do you understand? Win her old father first. Tell him -of your broad lands, and your rich castles; for old Sir Julian loves -gold, as if it paved the way to heaven.--Haw, haw, haw! When his love -is won, never fear but that his daughter's will come after; and then, -all because thou hast broad lands enough of thine own, thou shall have -all good Count Julian's to back them,--Haw, haw! haw, haw! Thus it is -we give to those that want not; and to those who want, we spit in -their face--a goodly gift!--Haw, haw! The world is mad, not I--'tis -but the mishap of being single in one's opinion!--Haw, haw, haw!" and -darting away into the forest without staying farther question, he was -soon lost to their sight. - -No sooner, however, had Gallon the fool assured himself that he was -out of reach of pursuit, than suddenly stopping, he cast himself on -the ground, and rolled over and over two or three times, while he made -the wood ring with his laughter. "Now have I murdered him!--now have I -slaughtered him!--now have I given his throat to the butcher!" cried -he, "as sure as if I held his head under knock-me-down De Coucy's -battle-axe!--now will he go and buy the old fool Julian's consent and -promise, for gold and rich furniture.--Haw, haw, haw! Then will -Isadore refuse; and let the De Coucy know.--Haw, haw! Then will De -Coucy come with lance and shield, and provoke my gallant to the fight, -which for his knighthood he dare not refuse--then will my great -man-slayer, my iron-fisted singer of songs, crush me this tiny, -smoothed-faced, quaint apparelled imp of Provence, as I've seen a -great eater crunch a lark.--Haw, haw! haw, haw! And all for having -tweaked my nose, though none of them know any thing about it! He will -insult my countenance no more, I trow, when the velvet black moles are -digging through his cold heart with their white hands. Ah, cursed -countenance!" he cried as if seized with some sudden emotion of rage, -and striking his clenched fist hard upon his hideous face--"Ah, cursed -countenance! thou hast brought down upon me mock and mimicry, hatred -and contempt! Every thing is loved--every thing is sought--every thing -is admired, but I; and I am fled from by all that see me. I am hated, -and I hate myself--I am the devil--surely I am the devil!--and if so, -I will enjoy my reign.--Beware! beware! ye that mock me; for I will -live by gnawing your hearts--I will, I will!--Haw, haw!--that I will!" -and suddenly bounding up, he caught one of the large boughs above his -head, swung himself backward and forward for a minute in the air; and -then springing forward, with a loud screaming laugh, flew back to the -castle like an arrow shot from a bow. - - - - -CHAPTER XIV. - - -We must now return for a time to the château of Compiègne, in one of -the principal chambers of which, surrounded by a bevy of fair maids, -sat Agnes de Meranie, bending her graceful head over an embroidery -frame. As far as one might judge from the lively colours upon the -ground of white satin, she was engaged in working a coat of arms; and -she plied her small fingers busily as if in haste. Her maids also -were all fully engaged, each in some occupation which had in a degree -a reference to that of the queen. One richly embroidered a sword belt -with threads of gold; another wove a golden fringe for the coat of -arms; and a third was equally intent in tracing various symbols on a -banner. - -From what internal emotion it is hard to say--for song is not always a -sign of joy--the queen, as she sat at her work, sang, from time to -time, some of the verses of one of the cançons of the day, in a sweet -low voice, and in that sort of indifferent tone, which seemed to show, -that while her hands were busy with the embroidery, and her voice was -as mechanically modulating the song, that nobler part of the mind, -which seems to dwell more in the heart than the brain, and whose -thoughts are feelings, was busy with very different matter. - - - THE SEEKER FOR LOVE - - "Oh where is Love?" the pilgrim said, - "Is he pris'ner, dead, or fled? - I've sought him far, with spear and lance. - To meet him, seize and bind him. - I've sought him in each tower of France, - But never yet could find him-- - There,"-- - - -"Should these flowers, in the treasure, be azure or gold, Blanche?" -demanded the queen. - -"Gold, madam!--Oh, certainly gold!" replied the lady, and the queen -resumed her work and her song. - - - "Oh where is Love?" he said again, - "Let me not seek, and seek in vain! - In the proud cities have I been, - In cottages I've sought him, - 'Midst lords, 'midst shepherds on the green, - But none of them have brought him-- - There." - - "He is banished," replied the knight, - "By the cold looks of our ladies bright!"-- - "He is gone," said the lady fair, - "To sport in Eden's arbours, - As for men's hearts, his old repair, - Treason alone now harbours-- - There." - - "I have found him," the pilgrim said; - "In my heart he has laid his head. - Though banish'd from knights and ladies rare, - And even shepherds discard him, - In my bosom shall be the god's lair. - And with silken fetters I'll guard him-- - There." - - -"Was it not on Thursday the king went?" demanded the queen. - -"No, madam," answered the lady who had spoken before. "He went on -Friday; and he cannot be back till the day after to-morrow, if he come -then; for that false, uncourteous king of England is as full of wiles -as of villanies, and will never give a clear reply; so that it always -costs my lord the king longer to deal with him than any of his other -vassals. Were I his brother, the Earl of Salisbury, who has been twice -at Paris, and is as good a knight as ever wore a lady's favour, I -would sweep his head off with my long sword, and restore the crown to -our little Arthur, who is the rightful king." - -"Where is the young truant?" demanded the queen. "I would fain ask -him, whether he would have these straps on the shoulder of plain silk -or of gold. See forhim, good girl!" - -But at that moment a part of the tapestry was suddenly pushed aside, -and a slight, graceful boy, of about fifteen, sprang into the room. He -was gaily dressed in a light tunic of sky-blue silk, and a jewelled -bonnet of the same colour, which showed well on his bright, fair skin, -and the falling curls of his sunny hair. - -"Not so far off as you thought, fair cousin," said he, casting himself -on one knee beside the queen, and kissing one of the small delicate -hands that lay on the embroidery frame. - -"Not eaves-dropping, I hope, Arthur," said Agnes de Meranie. "You, who -are so soon to become a knight, are too noble for that, I am sure." - -"Oh, surely!" said the boy, looking up in her face with an ingenuous -blush. "I had but been to see my mother; and, as I came back, I -stopped at the window above the stairs to watch an eagle that was -towering over the forest so proudly, I could not help wishing I had -been an eagle, to rise up like it into the skies, and see all the -world stretched out beneath me. And then I heard you singing, and -there was no harm in staying to listen to that, you know, belle -cousine," he added, looking up with a smile. - -"And how is the lady Constance, now?" demanded the queen. - -"Oh! she is somewhat better," replied Arthur. "And she bade me thank -you, fair queen, in her name, as well as my own, for undertaking the -task which her illness prevented her from accomplishing." - -"No thanks! no thanks! prince Arthur," replied the queen. "Is it not -the duty of every dame in France to aid in arming a knight when called -upon? But tell me, sir runaway, for I have been waiting these ten -minutes to know,--will you have these straps of cloth of gold, or -simple silk?" - -This question gave rise to a very important discussion, which was just -terminated by Arthur's predilection for gold, when a page, entering, -announced to the queen that Guerin, the chancellor, desired a few -minutes' audience. - -The queen turned somewhat pale, for the first sting of adversity had -gone deep in her heart, and she trembled lest it should be repeated. -She commanded the attendant, however, to admit the minister, -endeavouring, as much as possible, to conceal the alarm and uneasiness -which his visit caused her. The only symptom indeed of impatience -which escaped her appeared in her turning somewhat quickly round, and -pointing to a falcon that stood on its perch in one of the windows, -and amused itself, on seeing some degree of bustle, by uttering one or -two loud screams, thinking probably it was about to be carried to the -field. - -"Take that bird away, Arthur, good youth," said the queen; "it makes -my head ache." - -Arthur obeyed; and as he left the room the hospitaller entered, but -not alone. He was followed by a tall, thin, wasted man, dressed in a -brown frock, or _bure_, over which his white beard flowed down to his -girdle. In fact, it was Bernard the hermit, that, for the purposes we -shall explain, had once more for a time quitted his solitude, and -accompanied the minister of Philip Augustus to Compiègne. - -The hospitaller bowed his head as he advanced towards the queen, and -the hermit gave her his blessing; but still, for a moment, the heart -of poor Agnes de Meranie beat so fast, that she could only reply by -pointing to two seats which her women left vacant by her side. - -"Madame, we come to speak to you on matters of some importance," said -Guerin, looking towards the queen's women, who, though withdrawn from -her immediate proximity, still stood at a little distance. "Would it -please you to let us have a few minutes of your presence alone. Myself -and my brother Bernard are both unworthy members of the holy church, -and therefore may claim a lady's ear for a short space, without -falling into the danger of evil tongues." - -"I fear no evil tongues, good brother," replied Agnes, summoning -courage to meet whatever was to come; "and though I know of no subject -concerning myself that I could wish concealed from the world, yet I -will bid these poor girls go at your desire. Go, Blanche," she -continued, turning to her principal attendant,--"go, and wait in the -ante-room till I call. Now, good brother, may I crave what can be your -business with so unimportant a person as my poor self?" - -"As far, madam," replied Guerin, after a moment's pause, "as the weal -of this great realm of France is concerned, you are certainly any -thing but an unimportant person; nor can a fair, a noble, and a -virtuous lady ever be unimportant, be she queen or not. My brother -Bernard, from whom that most excellent knight and king, your royal -husband, has, as doubtless you know, lady, received many sage and -prudent counsels, has consented to join himself to me for the bold -purpose of laying before you a clear view of the state of this realm, -risking thereby, we know, to hurt your feelings, and even to offend -our lord the king, who has anxiously kept it concealed from you." - -"Hold, fair brother!" said Agnes mildly, but firmly; "and before you -proceed, mark me well! Where the good of my noble Philip, or of his -kingdom of France, may be obtained by the worst pain you can inflict -on me, let no fear of hurting my feelings stop you in your course. -Agnes gives you leave to hurt Agnes, for her husband's good; but -where, in the slightest degree, the confidence you would place in me -is in opposition to the will of Philip, your king and mine, the queen -commands you to be silent. Stay, good brother, hear me out: I know -that you would say, it is for the king's ultimate good, though he may -disapprove of it at present; but to me, good bishop, and you father -hermit,--to me, my husband's wisdom is supreme, as his will to me is -law; and though I will listen to your counsel and advice with all -humility, yet you must tell me nothing that my lord would not have me -hear, for on his judgment alone will I depend." - -Guerin looked to the hermit, who instantly replied:--"Daughter, -you have spoken well, wisely, and nobly; and I, even I, marvel -not,--though my heart is like a branch long broken from its stem, -withered and verdureless,--that Philip of France clings so fondly to -one, where beauty, and wisdom, and love, are so strangely united: -strangely indeed for this world! where if any two of such qualities -meet, 'tis but as that eastern plant which blossoms but once an age. -Let us only to council then, my child, and see what best may be done -to save the realm from all the horrors that menace it." - -The hermit spoke in a tone of such unwonted mildness, that Guerin, -apparently doubting his firmness in executing the purpose that had -brought them thither, took up the discourse. - -"Lady," said he, "after the ungrateful occurrence which terminated the -tournament of the Champeaux,--forgive me, that I recall what must pain -you,--you can hardly doubt that our holy father the pope, in his -saintly wisdom, considers that the decree of the prelates of France, -annulling the marriage of the king with Ingerburge of Denmark, was -illegal, and consequently invalid. Need I--need I, lady, urge upon you -the consequences, if our royal lord persists in neglecting, or -resisting, the repeated commands of the supreme pontiff?" - -Agnes turned deadly pale, and pointed to a crystal cup filled with -water, which stood near. The minister gave it to her; and, having -drunk a few drops, she covered her eyes with her hand for a -moment--then raised them, and replied with less apparent emotion than -might have been expected: "You do not clothe the truth, sir, in that -soft guise which makes it less terrible of aspect to a weak woman's -eyes, though not less certain; but you have been a soldier, sir, and -also a recluse, mingling not with such feeble things as we are; and, -therefore, I must forgive you the hard verities you speak. What is it -you wish me to do?--for I gather from your manner that there is some -task you would fain impose upon me." - -Pained by the effect his words had had upon the queen, and feeling -uncertain of how far he might venture, without driving her to actual -despair, embarrassed also by his small habits of intercourse with -women, Guerin turned once more to the hermit. - -"The task, my child," said the old man, in compliance with the -minister's look, "is indeed a painful one--bitterly painful; but, if -it approaches to the agony of martyrdom, it is by its self-devotion -equally sublime and glorious. Think, daughter, what a name would that -woman gain in history, who, to save her husband's realm from civil war -and interdict, and himself from excommunication and anathema, should -voluntarily take upon herself the hard duty of opposing not only his -inclinations but also her own; should tear herself from all that was -dear to her, and thereby restore him to his glory and himself,--his -realm to peace,--and tranquillity to the bosom of the church! Think -what a name she would gain in history, and what such a sacrifice might -merit from Heaven!" - -"Stay! stay! father," said Agnes, raising her hand. "Stay,--let me -think;" and casting down her beautiful eyes, she remained for a few -moments in profound thought. After a short pause, Guerin, lest the -impression should subside, attempted to fortify the hermit's arguments -with his own; but the queen waved her hand for silence, thought again, -and then raising her eyes, she replied:-- - -"I understand you, father; and, from my heart, I believe you seek the -good of my husband the king. But this thing must not be--it cannot -be!" - -"It is painful, lady," said Guerin; "but to a mind like yours,--to a -heart that loves your husband better than yourself----" - -"Hold, my good brother!" said Agnes, "I, a weak, unwise woman, am ill -fitted to contend with two wise and learned men like you; and -therefore I will at once tell you why I reject a task that no -consideration of my own feelings would have caused me to refuse;--no, -not had it slain me!" she added, raising her eyes to heaven, as if -appealing there for testimony of the truth of her assertion. "In the -first place, I am the wife of Philip king of France; and my lips shall -never do my fame the dishonour to admit that for an instant I have -been aught else, since his hand clasped mine before the altar of St. -Denis, in presence of all the prelates and bishops of his realm. I -should dishonour myself--I should dishonour my child, did I think -otherwise. As his wife, I am bound never to quit him with my -good-will; and to submit myself in all things to his judgment and his -wisdom. His wisdom then must be the judge; I will in no one thing -oppose it. If but in the slightest degree I see he begins to think the -sacrifice of our domestic happiness necessary to the public weal, I -will yield without resistance, and bear my sorrows alone to the grave -that will soon overtake me; but never till that grave has closed upon -me will I admit that there is another queen of France; never will I -acknowledge that I am not the lawful wife of Philip Augustus; nor ever -will I oppose myself to my husband's will, or arrogate to myself the -right of judging where he himself has decided. No! Philip has formed -his own determination from his own strong mind; and far be it from me, -his wife, by a word to shake his resolution, or by a thought to -impeach his judgment!" - -The queen spoke calmly, but decidedly; and though no tone in her voice -betrayed any degree of vehemence, yet the bright light of her eye, and -the alternate flushing and paleness of her cheek, seemed to evince a -far more powerful struggle of feeling within, than she suffered to -appear in her language. - -"But hear me, lady,--hear me once more, for all our sakes!" exclaimed -Guerin. - -"Sir, I can listen no longer!" said Agnes, rising from her seat, with -a degree of energy and dignity, that her slight form and gentle -disposition seemed incapable of displaying. "My resolution is -taken--my course is fixed--my path is made; and nothing on earth shall -turn me therefrom. The icy mountains of my native land," she -continued, pointing with her hand in the direction, as she fancied, of -the Tyrol, "whose heads have stood for immemorial ages, beaten in vain -by storm and tempest, are not more immoveable than I am. But I am not -well," she added, turning somewhat pale--"I pray you, good sirs, leave -me!" - -Guerin bowed his head, yet lingered, saying, "And yet I would -fain----" - -"I am not well, sir," said the queen, turning paler and paler. "Send -me my women, I beseech you!" - -Guerin made a step towards the door, but suddenly turned, just in time -to catch the beautiful princess in his arms, as, overcome by -excitement and distress of mind, she fell back in one of those -deathlike fainting fits which had seized her first at the Champeaux. - -Her women were immediately called to her assistance; and the minister -and the hermit retired, disappointed indeed in the purpose they had -proposed to effect, but hardly less admiring the mingled dignity, -gentleness, and firmness with which the queen had conducted herself in -one of the most painful situations wherein ever a good and virtuous -woman was placed on earth. - -"And now, what more can be done?" said Guerin, pausing on the last -step of the staircase, and speaking in a tone that implied abandonment -of farther effort rather than expectation of counsel. "What can be -done?" - -"Nothing, my son," replied the hermit,--"nothing, without thou wouldst -again visit yon fair, unhappy girl, to torture her soul without -shaking her purpose. For me, I have no call to wring my -fellow-creatures' hearts; and therefore I meddle herein no more. Fare -thee well! I go to De Coucy Magny, as they call it, to see a wild -youth whose life I saved, I fear me, to little purpose." - -"But not on foot!" said Guerin; "'tis far, good brother. Take a horse, -a mule, from my stable, I pray thee!" - -"And why not on foot?" asked the old man. "Our Lord and Saviour walked -on foot, I trow; and he might have well been prouder than thou or I." - - - - -CHAPTER XV. - - -The woods of De Coucy Magny stretched far over hill and dale, and -plain, where now not the root of one ancient tree is to be seen; and -many a vineyard, and a cornfield, and a meadow are to-day spread fair -out in the open sunshine, which were then covered with deep and -tangled underwood, or shaded by the broad arms of vast primeval oaks. - -Two straight roads passed through the forest, and a multitude of -smaller paths, which, winding about in every different direction, -crossing and recrossing each other,--now avoiding the edge of a pond -and making a large circuit, now taking advantage of a savannah, to -proceed straight forward, and now turning sharp round the vast boll of -some antique tree,--formed altogether an absolute labyrinth, through -which it needed a very certain clue, or very long experience, to -proceed in safety. - -These paths, also, however multiplied and intersected, left between -them many a wide unbroken space of forest ground, where apparently the -foot of man had never trod, nor axe of woodman ever rung, the only -tracks through which seemed to be some slight breaks in the underwood, -where the rushing sides of a boar or deer had dashed the foliage away. -Many of these spaces were of the extent of several thousand acres; and -if the very intricacy of the general forest paths themselves would not -have afforded shelter and concealment to men who, like the cotereaux -and routiers, as much needed a well hidden lair as ever did the -wildest savage of the wood, such asylum was easily to be found in the -dark recesses of these inviolate wilds. - -Here, on a bright morning of July, when the grey of the sky was just -beginning to warm with the rising day, a single man, armed with sword, -corselet, and steel bonnet, all shining with the last polishing touch -which they had received at the shop of the armourer, took his way -alone down one of the narrowest paths of the forest. In his hand he -held an _arbalète_,[18] or cross-bow, then a very late invention; and, -by the careful manner in which he examined every bush as he passed, he -seemed some huntsman tracing, step by step, the path of a deer. - - --------------------- - -[Footnote 18: Guillaume le Breton says unqualifiedly, that Richard -C[oe]ur de Lion invented the _arbalète_, or cross-bow. Brompton, on -the other hand, only declares that he revived the use of it, "hoc -genus sagittandi in usum revocavit."] - --------------------- - - -"Cursed be the fools!" muttered he to himself; "they have not taken -care to mark the _brisé_ well; and, in this strange forest, how am I -to track them? Ah, here is another!" and, passing on from tree to -tree, he at length paused where one of the smaller branches, broken -across, hung with its leaves just beginning to wither from the -interruption of the sap. Here, turning from the direct path, he pushed -his way through the foliage, stooping his head to prevent the branches -striking him in the face, but still taking pains to remark at every -step each tree or bush that he passed; and wherever he perceived a -broken branch, keeping it to his right-hand as he proceeded. His eyes -nevertheless were now and then turned to the left, as well as the -right; and at length, after he had advanced about four hundred yards -in this cautious manner, he found the boughs broken all around, so -that the _brisé_, as he called it, terminated there; and all guide by -which to direct his course seemed at an end. - -At this place he paused; and, after examining more scrupulously every -object in the neighbourhood, he uttered a long whistle, which, after a -moment or two, met with a reply, but from such a distance that it was -scarcely audible. The cross-bowman whistled again; and the former -sound was repeated, but evidently nearer. Then came a slight rustling -in the bushes, as if some large body stirred the foliage, and then for -a moment all was still. - -"Ha, Jodelle!" cried a voice at last, from the other side of the -bushes. "Is it you?" and pushing through the leaves, which had -concealed him while he had paused to examine the stranger we have -described, a genuine routier, if one might judge by his very rude and -rusty arms, entered the little open space in which the other had been -waiting. He had an unbent bow in his hand, and a store of arrows in -his belt, which was garnished still farther with a strong short sword, -and of knives and daggers not a few, from the _miséricorde_ of a -hand's breadth long, to the thigh knife of a peasant of those days, -whose blade of nearly two feet in length rendered it a serviceable and -tremendous weapon. - -He had on his back, by way of clothing, a light iron haubert, which -certainly shone not brightly; nor possibly was it desirable for him -that it should. Though of somewhat more solid materials than a linen -gown, it had more than one rent in it, where the rings had either been -broken by a blow, or worn through by age: but, in these places, the -deficient links had been supplied by cord, which at all events kept -the yawning mouths of the gaps together. On his head was placed an -iron hat, as it was called, much in the shape of the famous helmet of -Mambrino, as described by Cervantes; and round about it were twined -several branches of oak, which rendered his head, when seen through -the boughs, scarce distinguishable from the leaves themselves; while -his rugged and dingy haubert might well pass for a part of the trunk -of one of the trees. - -"Well met! well met, Jodelle!" cried he, as the other approached. -"Come to the halting place. We have waited for you long, and had -scanty fare. But say, what have you done? Have you slit the devil's -weasand, or got the knight's purse? Do you bring us good news or bad? -Do you come gay or sorry? Tell me! tell me, Jodelle! Thou art our -leader, but must not lead us to hell with thy new-fashioned ways." - -"Get thee on to the halt," replied Jodelle; "I will tell all there." - -The two cotereaux--for such they were--now made their way through the -trees and shrubs, to a spot where the axe had been busily plied to -clear away about half an acre of ground, round which were placed a -range of huts, formed of branches, leaves, and mud, capable of -containing perhaps two or three hundred men. - -In the open space in the centre several personages of the same -respectable class as the two we have already introduced to the reader, -were engaged in various athletic sports--pitching an immense stone, -shooting at a butt, or striking downright blows at a log of wood, to -see who could hew into its substance most profoundly. - -Others again were scattered about, fashioning bows out of strong -beechen poles, pointing arrows and spears, or sharpening their knives -and swords; while one or two lay listlessly looking on, seemingly -little inclined to employ very actively either their mental or -corporeal faculties. - -The arrival of Jodelle, as he was called, put a stop to the sports, -and caused a momentary bustle amongst the whole party, the principal -members of which seemed to recognise in him one of the most -distinguished of their fraternity, although some of those present -gazed on him as a stranger. - -"Welcome, welcome, sire Jodelle!" cried one who had been fashioning a -bow. "By my faith! we have much needed thy presence. We are here at -poor quarters. Not half so good as we had in the mountains of -Auvergne, till that bad day's work we made of it between the Allier -and the Puy; and a hundred thousand times worse than when we served -the merry king of England, under that bold knight Mercader. Oh, the -quarrel of that cross-bow at Chaluz was the worst shaft ever was shot -for us. Those days will never come again." - -"They may, they may!" replied Jodelle, "and before we dream of,--for -good, hard wars are spoken of; and then the detested cotereaux -grow, with these good kings, into their faithful troops of -Brabançois,--their excellent free companions! But we shall see. In the -mean time, tell me where is Jean le Borgne?" - -"He is gone with a party to look for some rich Jews going to Rouen," -replied the person who had spoken before. "But we have plenty of men -here for any bold stroke, if there be one in the market; and -besides----" - -"Did you meet with captain Vanswelder?" interrupted Jodelle. "The -fools at the castle believe he has two thousand bows with him. Where -does he lie? How many has he?" - -"He never had above four hundred," replied another of the many -cotereaux who by this time had gathered round Jodelle; "and when your -men came--if you are the captain, Jodelle--he took such of us as would -go with him down to Normandy, to offer himself to the bad king John -for half the sum of crowns we had before. Now, fifty of us, who had -served king Richard, and value our honour, agreed not to undersell -ourselves after such a fashion as that; so we joined ourselves to your -men, to take the chance of the road." - -"You did wisely and honourably," replied Jodelle; "but nevertheless -you would have been very likely to get hanged or roasted for your -pains, if I had not, by chance, stuck myself to the skirts of that Guy -de Coucy, who is now at his château hard by, menacing fire and sword -to every man of us that he finds in his woods. By St. Macrobius! I -believe the mad-headed boy would have attacked Vanswelder and his -whole troop, with the few swords he can muster, which do not amount to -fifty. A brave youth he is, as ever lived:--pity 'tis he must die! And -yet, when he dashed out my brother's brains with his battle-axe, I -vowed to God and St. Nicolas that I would die or slay him, as well as -that treacherous slave who betrayed us into attacking a band of -men-at-arms instead of a company of pilgrims. It is a firm vow, and -must be kept." - -"And yet, good master Jodelle, thou hast been somewhat slow in putting -it in execution," said one of the cotereaux. "Here thou and Gerard -Pons have been near a month with him--and yet, from all that I can -divine, thou hast neither laid thy finger on master or man!" - -"Ha! sir fool, wouldst thou have done it better?" demanded Jodelle, -turning on the speaker fiercely. "If I slew the fool juggler first, -which were easy to do, never should I get a stroke at his lord; and, -let me tell thee, 'tis no such easy matter to reach the master, who -has never doffed his steel haubert since I have seen him--except when -he sleeps, and then a varlet and a page lie across his door--a -privilege which he gave them in the Holy Land, where they saved his -life from a raw Saracen; and now, the fools hold it as such an honour, -they would not yield it for a golden ring. Besides," he added, -grinning with a mixture of shrewd malevolence and self-conceit in his -countenance, "I have a plot in my head. You know, I bear a brain." - -"Yes, yes!" replied several; "we know thou art rare at a plot. What -goes forward now? I vow a wax-candle to the Virgin Mary if it be a -good plot, and succeeds," added one of them. But this liberality -towards the Virgin, unhappily for the priests, met with no imitators. - -"My plot," replied Jodelle, "is as good a plot as ever was laid--ay, -or hatched either--and will succeed too. Wars are coming on thick. We -have no commander since our quarrel with Mercader. This De Coucy has -no men. To the wars he must and will; and surely would rather be -followed by a stout band of free companions, than have his banner -fluttering at the head of half a dozen varlets, like a red rag on a -furze bush. I will find means to put it in his head, and means to -bring about that you shall be the men. Then shall he lead us to spoil -and plunder enough, and leave it all to us when he has got it--for his -hand is as free as his heart is bold. My vow will stand over till the -war is done, and then the means of executing it will be in my own -hands. What say you?" - -"A good plot!--an excellent good plot!" cried several of the -cotereaux; but nevertheless, though plunged deep in blood and crime, -there were many of the band who knit their brow, and turned down the -corner of the mouth, at the profound piece of villany with which -master Jodelle finished his proposal. This did not prevent them from -consenting, however; and Jodelle proceeded to make various -arrangements for disposing comfortably of the band, during the space -of time which was necessarily to elapse before his plan could be put -in execution. - -The first thing to be done was to evacuate the woods of De Coucy -Magny, that no unpleasant collision might take place between the -cotereaux and De Coucy; and the next consideration was, where the band -was to lie till something more should be decided. This difficulty was -soon set aside, by one of the troop which had been originally in -possession of the forest, proposing as a refuge some woods in the -neighbourhood, which they had haunted previous to betaking themselves -to their present refuge. They then agreed to divide into two separate -bands, and to confine their system of plundering as much as possible -to the carrying off of horses; so that no difficulty might be found in -mounting the troop, in case of the young knight accepting their -services. - -"And now," cried Jodelle, "how many are you, when all are here?" - -"One hundred and thirty-three," was the reply. - -"Try to make up three fifties," cried Jodelle, "and, in the first -place, decamp with all speed; for this very day De Coucy, with all the -horsemen he can muster, will be pricking through every brake in the -forest. Carry off all your goods--unroof the huts--and if there be a -clerk amongst you, let him write me a scroll, and leave it on the -place, to say you quit it, all for the great name of De Coucy. So -shall his vanity be tickled." - -"Oh! there's Jeremy the monk can both read and write, you know," cried -several; "and as for parchment, he shall write upon the linen that was -in the pedlar's pack." - -"And now," cried Jodelle, "to the work! But first show me where haunt -the deer, for I must take back a buck to the castle to excuse my -absence." - -With very little trouble a fine herd was found, just cropping the -morning grass; and Jodelle instantly brought down a choice buck with a -quarrel from his cross-bow. He then bade adieu to his companions, and -casting the carcase over his shoulders, he took his way back to the -castle. - -It may be almost needless here to say, that this very respectable -personage, calling himself Jodelle, was one of the two men who had -been received into De Coucy's service in Auvergne, for the purpose of -leading to Paris two beautiful Arabian horses he had brought from -Palestine. His objects in joining the young knight at all, and for -fixing himself in his train more particularly afterwards, having been -already explained by himself, we shall not notice them; but shall only -remark, that personal revenge being in those days inculcated even as a -virtue, it was a virtue not at all likely to be so confined to the -better classes, as not to ornament in a high degree persons of -Jodelle's station and profession. - -The gates of the castle were open, and de Coucy himself standing on -the drawbridge, as the coterel returned. - -"Ha! varlet," said he. "Where hast thou been without the gates so -early? I must have none here that stray forth when they may be -needed!" - -"I had nought to do, beau sire," replied Jodelle, "and went but to -strike a buck in the wood, that your board might show some venison:--I -have not been long, though it led me farther than I thought." - -"Ha! canst thou wing a shaft, or a quarrel well?" demanded De Coucy. -"Thou hast brought down indeed a noble buck, and hit him fair in the -throat. What distance was your shot?" - -"A hundred and twenty yards," answered the coterel; "and if I hit not -a Normandy pippin at the same, may my bowstring be cut by your mad -fool, sir knight!" - -"By the blessed saints!" cried De Coucy, "thou shalt try this very day -at a better mark; for thou shalt have a _coterel's_ head within fifty -steps, before yon same sun, that has just risen, goes down over the -wood!" - -"The poor cotereaux!" cried Jodelle, affecting a look of compassion. -"They are hunted from place to place, like wild beasts; and yet there -is many a good soldier amongst them, after all." - -"Out, fellow!" cried the knight. "Speakest thou for plunderers and -common thieves?" - -"Nay, beau sire! I speak not for them," replied Jodelle. "Yet what can -the poor devils do? Here, in time of war, they spend their blood and -their labour in the cause of one or other of the parties; and then, -the moment they are of no further use, they are cast off like a -mail-shirt after a battle. They have no means of living but by their -swords; and when no one will employ them, what can they do? What could -I have done myself, beau sire, if your noble valour had not induced -you to take me into your train? All the money I had got in the wars -was spent; and I must have turned routier, or starved." - -"But would you say, fellow, that you have been a coterel?" demanded De -Coucy, eyeing him from head to foot, as a man might be supposed to do -on finding himself unexpectedly in company with a wolf, and -discovering that it was a much more civilised sort of animal than he -expected. - -"I will not deny, beau sire," replied Jodelle, "that I once commanded -two hundred as good free lances as ever served king Richard." - -"Where are they now?" demanded De Coucy, with some degree of growing -interest in the man to whom he spoke. "Are they dispersed? What has -become of them?" - -"I do not well know, beau sire," replied the coterel. "When Peter -Gourdun's arblast set Richard, the lion-hearted, on the same long, -dark journey that he had given to so many others himself, I quarrelled -with count Mercader, under whom I served. Richard with his dying -breath, as you have doubtless heard, fair sir, ordered the man -Gourdun, who had killed him, to be spared and set free; and Mercader -promised to obey: but, no sooner was king Richard as cold as king -Pepin, than Mercader had Gourdun tied hand and foot to the harrow of -the drawbridge of Chaluz, and saw him skinned alive with his own -eyes." - -"Cruel villain!" cried De Coucy. - -"Ay! fair knight," rejoined the coterel. "I ventured to say that he -was disobedient as a soldier, as well as cruel as a knight; and that -he ought to have obeyed the king's commands, just as much after he was -dead, as if he had lived to see them obeyed. What will you have? There -were plenty to tell Mercader what I said:--there were high words -followed; and I left the camp as soon as peace was trumpeted. I had -saved some money, and hoped to buy a haubert feof under some noble -lord; but, as evil fortune would have it, I met with a _menestrandie_, -consisting of the chief _menestrel_, and four or five jongleurs and -glee-maidens; and never did they leave me till all I had was nearly -gone: what lasted, kept me a year at Besançon; after which I was glad -enough to engage myself for hire, to ride your horses from Vic le -Comte to Paris." - -"But your troop!" said De Coucy. "Have you never heard any news of all -your men?" - -"I have heard, through one of the minstrels," said the coterel, "that -soon after I was gone, they repented and would not take service with -king John, as they had at first proposed; but came to offer themselves -to the noble king Philip of France, who, however, being at peace, -would not entertain them; and that they are now roaming about, seeking -some noble baron who will give them protection, and lead them where -they may gain both money and a good name." - -"By the rood! they want the last, perhaps, more than the first," -replied De Coucy, turning to enter the château. - -The coterel's brow darkened, and he set his teeth hard, feeling the -head of his dagger as he followed the knight, as if his hand itched to -draw it and strike De Coucy from behind; which indeed he might easily -have done, and with fatal effect, at the spot where the haubert ending -left his throat and collar bare. - -It is not improbable that Jodelle would have yielded without -hesitation to the temptation of opportunity, especially as his escape -over the drawbridge into the wood might have been effected in an -instant; but he saw clearly that his words had made an impression upon -the knight. For the moment indeed they seemed to produce no -determinate result, yet it was evident that whenever he found a -fitting opportunity, it would be easy to re-awaken the ideas to which -he had already given birth, and by suggesting a very slight link of -connection, cause De Coucy to make the application to himself. - -One reason, perhaps, why very prudent men are often not so successful -as rash ones, may be that, even in the moment of consideration, -opportunity is lost. While the coterel still held his hand upon his -dagger, De Coucy's squire, Hugo de Barre, approached to tell the young -châtelain that his seven vassals--the poor remains of hundreds--were -very willing to ride against the cotereaux, though such was no part of -their actual tenure; and that, as soon as they could don their armour -and saddle their horses, they would be up at the castle. They promised -also to bring with them all the armed men they could get to aid them, -in the towns and villages in the neighbourhood, not one of which had -escaped without paying some tribute to the dangerous tenants of the -young knight's woods. - -In little less than an hour, De Coucy found himself at the head of -near one hundred men; and, confident in his own powers both of mind -and body, he waited not for many others that were still hastening to -join him; but, giving his banner to the wind, set forth to attack the -banditti, in whatever numbers he might find them. - -It were uninteresting to detail all the measures that De Coucy took to -ensure that no part of the forests should remain unsearched; -especially as we already know, that his perquisitions were destined to -be fruitless. Nor is it necessary to dwell upon the means that the -coterel employed to draw the young knight and his followers, without -seeming to do so, towards the spot which his companions had so lately -evacuated. - -De Coucy, by nature, was not suspicious; but yet his eye very -naturally strayed, from time to time, to the face of Jodelle, whose -fellow feeling for the cotereaux had been so openly expressed in the -morning; and, as they approached the former halting-place of the -freebooters, he remarked somewhat of a smile upon his lip. - -"Ha!" said he, in an under voice, at the same time turning his horse -and riding up to him. "What means that smile, sir Brabançois?" - -Jodelle's reply was ready. "It means, sir knight, that I can help you, -and I will; for even were these my best friends, the laws by which we -are ruled bind me to render you all service against them, on having -engaged with you.--Do you see that broken bough? Be you sure it means -something. The men you seek for are not far off." - -"So, my good friend," said De Coucy, "methinks you must have exercised -the trade of Brabançois in the green wood, as well as in the tented -field, to know so well all the secret signs of these gentry's hiding -places." - -"I have laid many an ambush in the green wood," replied Jodelle -undauntedly; "and the signs that have served me for that may well lead -me to trace others." - -"Here are foot-marks, both of horse and foot," cried Hugo de Barre, -"and lately trodden too, for scarce a fold of the moss has risen -since." - -"Coming or going?" cried De Coucy, spurring up to the spot. - -"Both, my lord," replied the squire. "Here are hoof marks all ways." - -Without wasting time in endeavouring to ascertain which traces were -the last imprinted, De Coucy took such precautions as the scantiness -of his followers permitted for ensuring that the cotereaux did not -make their escape by some other outlet; and then boldly plunged in on -horseback, following through the bushes, as well as he could, the -marks that the band had left behind them when they decamped. He was -not long in making his way to the open space, surrounded with huts, -which we have before described. The state of the whole scene at once -showed, that it had been but lately abandoned; though the unroofing of -the hovels evinced that its former tenants entertained no thought of -making it any more their dwelling-place. - -In the centre of the opening, however, stood the staff of a lance, on -the end of which was fixed a scroll of parchment, written in very fair -characters to the following effect:-- - -"Sire de Coucy! hearing of your return to your lands, we leave them -willingly--not because we fear you, or any man, but because we respect -your knightly prowess, and would not willingly stand in deadly fight -against one of the best knights in France." - -"By St. Jerome! the knaves are not without their courtesy!" exclaimed -De Coucy. "Well, now they are off my land, God speed them!" - -"Where the devil did they get the parchment?" muttered Jodelle to -himself:--and thus ended the expedition with two exclamations that did -not slightly mark the age. - - - - -CHAPTER XVI. - - -There are no truer chameleons than words, changing hue and aspect as -the circumstances change around them, and leaving scarce a shade of -their original meaning. _Piety_ has at present many acceptations, -according to the various lips that pronounce it, and the ears that -hear; but in the time of the commonwealth, it meant the grossest -fanaticism; and in the time of Philip Augustus, the grossest -superstition. - -An age where knowledge and civilisation have made some progress, yet -not produced a cold fondness for abstract facts, may be called the -period of imagination in a nation; and then it will generally be found -that, in matters of religion, a brooding, a melancholy, and a -fanatical spirit reigns. Sectarian enthusiasm is then sufficient to -keep itself alive in each man's breast, without imagination requiring -any aid from external stimulants; and though the language of the -pulpit may be flowery and extravagant, the manners are rigid and -austere, and the rites simple and unadorned. - -In more remote periods, however, where brutal ignorance is the general -character of society, the only means of communicating with the dull -imagination of the people is by their outward senses. Pomp, pageant, -and display, music and ceremony, accompany each rite of the church, to -give it dignity in the eyes of the multitude, who, if they do not -understand the spirit, at least worship the form. Such was the -case in the days of Philip Augustus. The people, with very few -exceptions,--barons, knights, serfs and ecclesiastics,--beheld, felt, -and understood little else in religion than the ceremonies of the -church of Rome. Each festival of that church was for them a day of -rejoicing; each saint was an object of the most profound devotion; and -each genuflexion of the priest (though the priest himself was often -bitterly satirised in the sirventes of the trouvères and troubadours) -was a sacred rite, that the populace would not have seen abrogated for -the world. The ceremonies of the church were the link--the only -remaining link--between the noble and the serf; and, common to -all,--the high, the low, the rich, the poor,--they were revered and -loved by all classes of the community. - -Such was the general state of France, in regard to religious feelings, -when the kingdom was menaced with interdict by pope Innocent the -Third. The very rumour cast a gloom over the whole nation; but when -the legate, proceeding according to the rigid injunctions of the pope, -called the bishops, archbishops, and abbots of France to a council at -Dijon, for the purpose of putting the threat in execution, murmurs and -lamentations burst forth all over France. - -Philip Augustus, however, remained inflexible in his resolution of -resistance; and, though he sent two messengers to protest against the -proceedings of the council, he calmly suffered its deliberations to -proceed, without a change of purpose. The pope was equally unmoved; -and the cardinal of St. Mary's proceeded to the painful task which had -been imposed upon him; declaring to the assembled bishops the will of -the sovereign pontiff, and calling upon them to name the day -themselves on which the interdict should be pronounced. The bishops -and abbots found all opposition in vain, and the day was consequently -named. - -It was about this period that Count Thibalt d'Auvergne, having laid -the ashes of his father in the grave, prepared to retrace his steps to -Paris. His burden upon earth was a heavy one; yet, like the overloaded -camel in the desert, he resolutely bore it on without murmur or -complaint, waiting till he should drop down underneath it, and death -should give him relief. A fresh furrow might be traced on his brow, a -deeper shade of stern melancholy in his eye; but that was all by which -one might guess how painfully he felt the loss of what he looked on as -his last tie to earth. His voice was calm and firm, his manner clear -and collected: nothing escaped his remembrance; nothing indicated that -his thoughts were not wholly in the world wherein he stood, except the -fixed contraction of his brow, and the sunshineless coldness of his -lips. - -When, as we have before said, he had given his power, as suzerain of -Auvergne, into the hands of his uncle, he himself mounted his horse, -and, followed by a numerous retinue, set out from Vic le Comte. - -He turned not, however, his steps towards Paris in the first instance, -but proceeded direct to Dijon. Here he found no small difficulty in -obtaining a lodging for himself and train: the monasteries, on whose -hospitality he had reckoned, being completely occupied by the great -influx of prelates, which the council had brought thither; and the -houses of public entertainment being, in that day, unmeet dwellings -for persons of his rank. Nevertheless, dispersing his followers -through the town, with commands to keep his name secret, the Count -d'Auvergne took up his abode at the house of a _tavernier_, or -vintner, and proceeded to make the inquiries which had caused him so -far to deviate from his direct road. - -These referred entirely to--and he had long before determined to make -them--the property of the Count de Tankerville; on which, however, he -soon found that king Philip had laid his hands; and therefore, the -story of Gallon the fool being confirmed in this point, he gave up all -farther questions upon the subject, as not likely to produce any -benefit to his friend De Coucy. - -Occupied as he had been in Auvergne, the progress of the council of -bishops had but reached his ears vaguely; and he determined that the -very next day he would satisfy himself in regard to its deliberations, -which, though indeed they could take no atom from the load on his -heart, nor restore one drop of happiness to his cup, yet interested -him, perhaps, as much as any human being in France. - -The day had worn away in his other inquiries, the evening had passed -in bitter thoughts; and midnight had come, without bringing even the -hope of sleep to his eyelids; when suddenly he was startled by hearing -the bells of all the churches in Dijon toll, as for the dead. -Immediately rising, he threw his cloak about him, and, drawing the -hood over his head and face, proceeded into the street to ascertain -whether the fears which those sounds had excited in his bosom were -well founded. - -In the street he found a multitude of persons flocking towards the -cathedral; and, hurrying on with the rest, he entered at one of the -side-doors, and crossed to the centre of the nave. - -The sight that presented itself was certainly awful. No tapers were -lighted at the high altar, not a shrine gave forth a single ray; but -on the steps before the table stood the cardinal legate, dressed in -the deep purple stole worn on the days of solemn fast in the church of -Rome. On each hand, the steps, and part of the choir, were crowded -with bishops and mitred abbots, each in the solemn habiliments -appropriated by his order to the funeral fasts; and each holding in -his hand a black and smoky torch of pitch, which spread through the -whole church their ungrateful odour and their red and baleful light. -The space behind the altar was crowded with ecclesiastics and monks, -on the upper part of whose pale and meagre faces the dim and -ill-favouring torch-light cast an almost unearthly gleam; while -streaming down the centre of the church, over the kneeling -congregation, on whose dark vestments it seemed to have no effect, the -red glare spread through the nave and aisles, catching faintly on the -tall pillars and Gothic tracery of the cathedral, and losing itself, -at last, in the deep gloom all around. - -The choir of the cathedral were in the act of singing the _Miserere_ -as the Count d'Auvergne entered; and the deep and solemn notes of the -chant, echoed by the vaulted roofs, and long aisles, and galleries, -while it harmonised well with the gloominess of the scene, offered -frightful discord when the deep toll of the death-bell broke across, -with sounds entirely dissonant. No longer doubting that his -apprehensions were indeed true, and that the legate was about to -pronounce the realm in interdict, Thibalt d'Auvergne advanced as far -as he could towards the choir, and, placing himself by one of the -pillars, prepared, with strange and mingled emotions, to hear the -stern thunder of the church launched at two beings whose love had made -his misery, and whose happiness was built upon his disappointment. - -It were too cruel an inquest of human nature to ask if, at the thought -of Agnes de Meranie being torn from the arms of her royal lover, a -partial gleam of undefined satisfaction did not thrill through the -heart of the Count d'Auvergne; but this at least is certain, that -could he, by laying down his life, have swept away the obstacles -between them, and removed the agonising difficulties of Agnes's -situation, Thibalt d'Auvergne would not have hesitated--no, not for a -moment! - -At the end of the _Miserere_, the legate advanced, and in a voice that -trembled even at the sentence it pronounced, placed the whole realm of -France in interdict,--bidding the doors of the churches to be closed; -the images of the saints, and the cross itself, to be veiled; the -worship of the Almighty to be suspended; marriage to the young, the -eucharist to the old and dying, and sepulture to the dead, to be -refused; all the rites, the ceremonies, and the consolations of -religion to be denied to every one; and France to be as a dead land, -till such time as Philip the king should separate himself from Agnes -his concubine, and take again to his bosom Ingerburge, his lawful -wife. - -At that hard word, concubine, applied to Agnes de Meranie, the Count -d'Auvergne's hand naturally grasped his dagger; but the legate was -secure in his sacred character, and he proceeded to anathematise and -excommunicate Philip, according to the terrible form of the church of -Rome, calling down upon his head the curses of all the powers of -Heaven! - -"May he be cursed in the city, and in the field, and in the highway! -in living, and in dying!" said the legate; "cursed be his children, -and his flocks, and his _domaines!_ Let no man call him brother, or -give him the kiss of peace! Let no priest pray for him, or admit him -to God's altar! Let all men flee from him living, and let consolation -and hope abandon his death-bed! Let his corpse remain unburied, and -his bones whiten in the wind! Cursed be he on earth, and under the -earth! in this life, and to all eternity!" - -Such was in some degree, though far short of the tremendous original, -the anathema which the legate pronounced against Philip Augustus--to -our ideas, unchristian, and almost blasphemous; but then the people -heard it with reverence and trembling; and even when he summed up the -whole, by announcing it in the name of the Holy Trinity--of the -Father--of all mercy!--of the Son--the Saviour of the world!--and of -the Holy Ghost--the Lord and Giver of Life! the people, instead of -starting from the impious mingling of Heaven's holiest attributes with -the violent passions of man, joined the clergy in a loud and solemn -_Amen!_ - -At the same moment all the sounds ceased, the torches were -extinguished; and in obscurity and confusion, the dismayed multitude -made their way out of the cathedral. - - -END OF THE FIRST VOLUME. - - - - - - -VOLUME THE SECOND. - - - - -CHAPTER I. - -Gloom and consternation spread over the face of France:--the link -seemed cut between it and the other nations of the earth. Each man -appeared to stand alone: each one brooded over his new situation with -a gloomy despondency. No one doubted that the curse of God was upon -the land; and the daily,--nay, hourly deprivation of every religious -ceremony, was constantly recalling it to the imaginations of all. - -The doors of the churches were shut and barred; the statues of the -saints were covered with black; the crosses on the high roads were -veiled. The bells which had marked the various hours of the day, -calling all classes to pray to one beneficent God, were no longer -heard swinging slowly over field and plain. The serf returned from the -glebe, and the lord from the wood, in gloomy silence, missing all -those appointed sounds that formed the pleasant interruption to their -dull toil, or duller amusements. - -All old accustomed habits,--those grafts in our nature, which cannot -be torn out without agony, were entirely broken through. The matin, or -the vesper prayer, was no longer said; the sabbath was unmarked by its -blessed distinctness; the fêtes, whether of penitence or rejoicing, -were unnoticed and cold in the hideous gloom that overspread the land, -resting like the dead amidst the dying. - -Every hour, every moment, served to impress the awful effects of the -interdict more and more deeply on the minds of men. Was a child born, -a single priest, in silence and in secrecy, as if the very act were a -crime, sprinkled the baptismal water on its brow. Marriage, with all -its gay ceremonies and feasts, was blotted, with other happy days, -from the calendar of life. The dying died in fear, without prayer or -confession, as if mercy had gone by; and the dead, cast recklessly on -the soil, or buried in unhallowed ground, were exposed, according to -the credence of the day, to the visitation of demons and evil spirits. -Even the doors of the cemeteries were closed; and the last fond -commune between the living and the dead--that beautiful weakness which -pours the heart out even on the cold, unanswering grave,--was struck -out from the solaces of existence. - -The bishops and clergy, in the immediate neighbourhood of Dijon, first -began to observe the interdict; and gradually, though steadily, the -same awful privation of all religious form spread itself over France. -Towards the north, however, and in the neighbourhood of the capital, -the ecclesiastics were more slow in putting it in execution; and long -ere it had reached the borders of the Seine, many a change had taken -place in the fate of Guy de Coucy. - -Having ascertained that the cotereaux had really left his woods, De -Coucy gave his whole thoughts to the scheme which had been proposed to -him by his squire, Hugo de Barre, for surprising Sir Julian of the -Mount and his fair daughter, and bringing them to his castle, without -letting them know, till after their arrival, into whose hands they had -fallen. - -Such extravagant pieces of gallantry were very common in that age; but -there are difficulties of course in all schemes; and the difficulty of -the present one was, so to surprise the party, that no bloodshed or -injury might ensue; for certainly, if ever there was an undertaking to -which the warning against jesting with edged tools might be justly -applied, it was this. - -The brain, however, of Hugo de Barre, which for a great part of his -life had been sterile, or at least, had lain fallow, seemed to have -become productive of a sudden; and he contrived a plan by which the -page, who, from many a private reason of his own, was very willing to -undertake the task, was to meet Sir Julian's party, disguised as a -peasant, and, mingling with the retinue, to forewarn the male part of -the armed train of the proposed surprisal, enjoining them, at the same -time, for the honour of the masculine quality of secrecy, not to -reveal their purpose to the female part of the train. "For," observed -Hugo de Barre, "a woman's head, as far as ever I could hear, is just -like a funnel: whatever you pour into her ear, is sure to run out at -her mouth." - -De Coucy stayed not to controvert this ungallant position of his -squire, but sent off in all haste to Gisors, for the purpose of -preparing his château for the reception of such guests, as far as his -scanty means would permit. His purse, however, was soon exhausted; and -yet no great splendour reigned within his halls. - -The air of absolute desolation, however, was done away; and, though -the young knight had ever had that sort of pride in the neatness of -his horse, his arms, and his dress, which perhaps amounted to foppery, -he valued wealth too little himself to imagine that the lady of his -love would despise him for the want of it. He could not help wishing, -however, that the king had given another tournament, where, he doubted -not, his lance would have served him to overthrow five or six -antagonists, the ransom of whose horses and armour might have served -to complete the preparations he could now only commence. It was a wish -of the thirteenth century; and though perhaps not assimilating very -well with our ideas at present, it was quite in harmony with the -character of the times, when many a knight lived entirely by his -prowess in the battle or the lists, and when the ransom of his -prisoners, or of the horses and arms of his antagonists, was held the -most honourable of all revenues. - -As the period approached in which De Coucy had reason to believe Count -Julian and his train would pass near his castle, a warder was -stationed continually in the beffroy, to keep a constant watch upon -the country around; and many a time would the young knight himself -climb into the high tower, and gaze over the country spread out below. - -Such was the position of the castle, and the predominating height of -the watch-tower, that no considerable party could pass within many -miles, without being seen in some part of their way. In general, the -principal roads lay open beneath the eye, traced out, clear and -distinct, over the bosom of the country, as if upon a wide map: and -with more eagerness and anxiety did De Coucy gaze upon the way, and -track each group that he fancied might contain the form of Isadore of -the Mount, than he had ever watched for Greek or Saracen. At length, -one evening, as he was thus employing himself, he saw, at some -distance, the dust of a cavalcade rise over the edge of a slight hill -that bounded his view to the north-east. Then came a confused group of -persons on horseback; and, with a beating heart, De Coucy strained his -eyes to see whether there were any female figures amongst the rest. -Long before it was possible for him to ascertain, he had determined -twenty times, both that there were, and that there were not; and -changed his opinion as often. At length, however, something light -seemed to be caught by the wind, and blown away to a little distance -from the party, while one of the horsemen galloped out to recover it, -and bring it back. - -"'Tis a woman's veil," cried De Coucy. "'Tis she! by the sword of my -father!" and darting down the winding steps of the tower, whose -turnings now seemed interminable, he rushed into the court, called, -"To the saddle!" and springing on his horse, which stood always -prepared, he led his party into the woods, and laid his ambush at the -foot of the hill, within a hundred yards of the road that led to -Vernon. - -All this was done with the prompt activity of a soldier long -accustomed to quick and harassing warfare. In a few minutes, also, the -disguises, which had been prepared to render himself and his followers -as like a party of cotereaux as possible, were assumed, and De Coucy -waited impatiently for the arrival of the cavalcade. The moments now -passed by with all that limping impotence of march which they always -seem to have in the eyes of expectation, For some time the knight -reasoned himself into coolness, by remembering the distance at which -he had seen the party, the slowness with which they were advancing, -and the rapidity with which he himself had taken up his position. For -the next quarter of an hour he blamed his own hastiness of -disposition, and called to mind a thousand instances in which he had -deceived himself in regard to time. - -He then thought they must be near; and, after listening for a few -minutes, advanced at little to ascertain, when suddenly the sound of a -horse's feet struck on his ear, and he waited only the first sight -through the branches to make the signal of attack. - -A moment, after, however, he beheld, to his surprise and -disappointment, the figure of a stout market-woman, mounted on a mare, -whose feet had produced the noise which had attracted his attention, -and whose passage left the road both silent and vacant once more. -Another long pause succeeded, and De Coucy, now almost certain that -the party he had seen must either have halted or turned from their -course, sent out scouts in various directions to gain more certain -information. After a short space one returned, and then another, all -bringing the same news, that the roads on every side were clear; and -that not the slightest sign of any large party was visible, from the -highest points in the neighbourhood. - -Evening was now beginning to fall; and, very sure that Count Julian -would not travel during the darkness, through a country infested by -plunderers of all descriptions, the young knight, disappointed and -gloomy, emerged with his followers from his concealment, and once more -bent his steps slowly towards his solitary hall. - -"Perhaps," said he mentally, as he pondered over his scheme and its -want of success,--"perhaps I may have escaped more bitter -disappointment--perchance she might have proved cold and -heartless--perchance she might have loved me, yet been torn from -me;--and then, when my eye was once accustomed to see her lovely form -gliding through the halls of my dwelling, how could I have afterwards -brooked its desolate vacancy? When my ear had become habituated to the -sound of her voice in my own home, how silent would it have seemed -when she were gone! No, no--doubtless, I did but scheme myself pains. -'Tis better as it is." - -While these reflections were passing in his mind, he had reached the -bottom of the hill, on which his castle stood, and turned his horse up -the steep path. Naturally enough, as he did so, he raised his eyes to -contemplate the black frowning battlements that were about to receive -him once more to their stern solitude; when, to his astonishment, he -saw the flutter of a woman's dress upon the outward walls, and a gay -group of youths and maidens were seen looking down upon him from his -own castle. - -De Coucy at first paused from mere surprise, well knowing that his own -household offered nothing such as he there beheld but the next moment, -as the form of Isadore of the Mount showed itself plainly to his -sight, he struck his spurs into his horse's sides, and galloped -forward like lightning, eager to lay himself open to all the -disappointments over which he had moralised so profoundly but a moment -before. - -On entering the court he found a multitude of squires stabling their -horses with all the care that promised a long stay and, the moment -after, he was accosted by old Sir Julian of the Mount himself, who -informed him that, finding himself not so well as he could wish, he -had come to crave his hospitality for a day's lodging, during which -time he might communicate to him, he said, some important matter for -his deep consideration. This last announcement was made in one of -those low and solemn tones intended to convey great meaning; and, -perhaps, even Sir Julian wished to imply, that his ostensible reason -for visiting the castle of De Coucy was but a fine political covering, -to veil the more immediate and interesting object of his coming. - -"But how now. Sir Guy!" added he; "surely you have been disguising -yourself! With that sack over your armour, for a _cotte d'armes_, and -the elm branch twisted round your casque, you look marvellous like a -coterel. - -"By my faith! good Sir Julian," replied De Coucy with his usual -frankness, "I look but like what I intended then. The truth is, -hearing of your passing, I arrayed my men like cotereaux, and laid an -ambush for you, intending to take you at a disadvantage, and making -you prisoner, to bring you here; where, in all gentle courtesy, I -would have entreated your stay for some few days, to force a boar and -hear a lay, and forget your weightier thoughts for a short space. But, -by the holy rood! I find I have made a strange mistake; for, while I -went to take you, it seems you have taken my castle itself!" - -"Good, good! very good!" cried Sir Julian; "but come with me. Sir Guy. -Isadore has found her way to the battlements already, and is looking -out at the view, which, she says, is fine. For my part, I love no fine -views but politic ones.--Come, follow me.--Let me see, which is the -way?--Oh, here--No, 'tisn't.--This is a marvellous stronghold, Sir -Guy! Which is the way?" - -Cursing Sir Julian's slow vanity, in striving to lead the way through -a castle he did not know, with its lord at his side, Sir Guy de Coucy -stepped forward, and, with a foot of light, mounted the narrow -staircase in the wall, that led to the outer battlements. - -"Stay, stay! Sir Guy!" cried the old man. "By the rood! you go so -fast, 'tis impossible to follow! You young men forget we old men get -short of breath; and, though our brains be somewhat stronger than -yours, 'tis said, our legs are not altogether so swift." - -De Coucy, obliged to curb his impatience, paused till Sir Julian came -up, and then hurried forward to the spot where Isadore was gazing, or -seeming to gaze, upon the prospect. - -A very close observer, however, might have perceived that--though she -did not turn round till the young knight was close to her--as his -clanging step sounded along the battlements, a quick warm flush rose -in her cheek; and when she did turn to answer his greeting, there was -that sort of glow in her countenance and sparkle in her eye which, -strangely in opposition with the ceremonious form of her words, would -have given matter for thought to any more quick-witted person than -Count Julian of the Mount. - -That worthy baron, however, wholly pre-occupied with his own sublime -thoughts, saw nothing to excite his surprise, but presented De Coucy -to Isadore as a noble chief of cotereaux, who would fain have taken -them prisoner, had they not in the first instance stormed his castle, -and "manned, or rather," said Sir Julian, "womanned, his wall," and -the worthy old gentleman chuckled egregiously at his own wit. "Now -that we are here, however," continued Sir Julian, "he invites us to -stay for a few days, to which I give a willing consent:--what say you, -Isadore? You will find these woods even sweeter than those of -Montmorency for your mornings' walks." - -Isadore cast down her large dark eyes, as if she was afraid that the -pleasure which such a proposal gave her, might shine out too -apparently through a commonplace answer. "Wherever you think fit to -stay, my dear father," replied she, "must always be agreeable to me." - -Matters being thus arranged, we shall not particularise the passing of -that evening, nor indeed of the next day. Suffice it to say, that Sir -Julian found a moment to propose to De Coucy, to enter into the -coalition which was then forming between some of the most powerful -barons of France, with John king of England in his quality of duke of -Normandy, and Ferrand count of Flanders at their head, to resist the -efforts which Philip Augustus was making to recover and augment the -kingly authority. - -"Do not reply. Sir Guy--do not reply hastily," concluded the old -knight; "I give you two more days to consider the question in all its -bearings; and on the third I will take my departure for Rouen, either -embracing you as a brother in our enterprise, or thanking you for your -hospitality, and relying on your secrecy." - -De Coucy was glad to escape an immediate reply, well knowing that the -only answer he could conscientiously make, would but serve to irritate -his guest, and, perhaps, precipitate his departure from the castle. He -therefore let the matter rest, and applied himself, as far as his -limited means would admit, to entertain Sir Julian and his suite, -without derogating from the hospitality of his ancestors. - -The communication of feeling between the young knight and his fair -Isadore made much more rapid advances than his arrangements with Sir -Julian. During the journey from Auvergne to Senlis, each day's march -had added something to their mutual love, and discovered it more and -more to each other. It had shone out but in trifles, it is true; for -Sir Julian had been constantly present, filling their ears with -continual babble, to which the one was obliged to listen from filial -duty, and the other from respect for her he loved. It had shone out -but in trifles, but what is life but a mass of trifles, with one or -two facts of graver import, scattered like jewels amidst the seashore -sands?--and though, perhaps, it was but a momentary smile, or a casual -word, a glance, a tone, a movement, that betrayed their love to each -other, it was the language that deep feelings speak, and deep feelings -alone can read, but which, then, expresses a world more than words can -ever tell. - -When Isadore arrived at De Coucy's château, there wanted but one word -to tell her that she was deeply loved; and before she had been there -twelve hours that word was spoken. We will therefore pass over that -day,--which was a day of long, deep, sweet thought to Isadore of the -Mount, and to De Coucy a day of anxious hope, with just sufficient -doubt to make it hope, not joy,--and we will come at once to the -morning after. - -'Twas in the fine old woods, in the immediate proximity of the castle, -towards that hour of the morning when young lovers may be supposed to -rise, and dull guardians to slumber in their beds. It was towards five -o'clock, and the spot, a very dangerous scene for any one whose heart -was not iron, with some fair being near him. A deep glade of the wood, -at the one end of which might be seen a single grey tower of the -castle, here opened out upon the very edge of a steep descent, -commanding one of those wide extensive views, over rich and smiling -lands, that make the bosom glow and expand to all that is lovely. The -sun was shining down from beyond the castle, chequering the grassy -glade with soft shadows and bright light; and a clear small stream, -that welled from a rock hard by, wound in and out amongst the roots of -the trees, over a smooth gravelly bed; till, approaching the brink of -the descent, it leaped over, as if in sport, and went bounding in -sparkling joyousness into the rich valley below. All was in -harmony--the soft air, and the birds singing their matins, and the -blue sky overhead; so that hard must have been the heart indeed that -did not then feel softened by the bland smiles of nature. - -Wandering down the glade, side by side, even at that early hour, came -De Coucy and Isadore of the Mount, alone--for the waiting-maid, Alixe, -was quite sufficiently discreet to toy with every buttercup as she -passed; so that the space of full a hundred yards was ever interposed -between the lovers and any other human creature. - -"Oh, De Coucy!" said Isadore, proceeding with a conversation, which -for various reasons is here omitted, "if I could but believe that your -light gay heart were capable of preserving such deep feelings as those -you speak!" - -"Indeed, indeed! and in very truth!" replied De Coucy, "my heart, -sweet Isadore, is very, very different from what it seems in a gay and -heartless world. I know not why, but from my youth I have ever covered -my feelings from the eyes of my companions. I believe it was, at -first, lest those who could not understand should laugh; and now it -has become so much a habit, that often do I jest when I feel deepest, -and laugh when my heart is far from merriment; and though you may have -deemed that heart could never feel in any way, believe me now, when I -tell you, that it has felt often and deeply." - -"Nay!" said Isadore, perhaps somewhat wilful in her mistake, "if you -have felt such sensations so often, and so deeply, but little can be -left for me." - -"Nay, nay!" cried De Coucy eagerly. "You wrong my speech. I never -loved but you. My feelings in the world, the feelings that I spoke of, -have been for the sorrows and the cares of others--for the loss of -friends--the breaking of fond ties--to see injustice, oppression, -wrong;--to be misunderstood by those I esteemed--repelled where I -would have shed my heart's blood to serve. Here, have I felt all that -man can feel; but I never loved but you. I never yet saw woman, before -my eyes met yours, in whose hand I could put my hope and happiness, my -life and honour, my peace of mind at present, and all the fond dreams -we form for the future. Isadore, do you believe me?" - -She cast down her eyes for a moment, then raised them, to De Coucy's -surprise, swimming with tears. "Perhaps I do," replied she.--"Do not -let my tears astonish you, De Coucy," she added; "they are not all -painful ones; for to find oneself beloved as one would wish to be, is -very, very sweet. But still, good friend, I see much to make us fear -for the future. The old are fond of wealth, De Coucy, and they forget -affection. I would not that my tongue should for a moment prove so -false to my heart, as to proffer one word against my father; but, I -fear me, he will look for riches in a husband to his daughter." - -"And will such considerations weigh with you, Isadora?" demanded De -Coucy sadly. - -"Not for a moment!" replied she. "Did I choose for myself, I would -sooner, far sooner, that the man I loved should be as poor a knight as -ever braced on a shield, that I might endow him with my wealth, and -bring him something more worthy than this poor hand. But can I oppose -my father's will, De Coucy?" - -"What!" cried the knight; "and will you, Isadore, wed the first -wealthy lover he chooses to propose, and yield yourself, a cold -inanimate slave, to one man, while your heart is given to another?" - -"Hush, hush!" cried Isadore--"never, De Coucy, never!--I will never -wed any man against my father's will; so far my duty as a child -compels me:--but I will never, never marry any man--but--but--what -shall I say?--but one I love." - -"Oh, say something more, sweet, sweet girl!" cried the young -knight eagerly;--"say something more, to give my heart some firm -assurance--let that promise be to me!" - -"Well, well!" said Isadore, speaking quick, as if afraid the words -should be stayed upon her very lip, "no one but you--Will that content -you?" - -De Coucy pressed her hand to his lips, and to his heart, with all that -transport of gratitude that the most invaluable gift a woman can -bestow deserves; and yet he pressed her to repeat her promise. He -feared, he said, the many powerful arts with which friends work on a -woman's mind,--the persuasions, the threats, the false reports; and he -ceased not till he had won her to repeat again and again, with all the -vows that could bind her heart to his, that her hand should never be -given to another. - -"They may cloister me in a convent," she said, as the very reiteration -rendered her promise bolder; and his ardent and passionate professions -made simple assurances seem cold: "but I deem not they will do it; for -my father, though quick in his disposition, and immoveable in what he -determines, loves me, I think, too well, to part with me willingly for -ever. He may threaten it; but he will not execute his threat. But oh! -De Coucy, have a care that you urge him not to such a point, that he -shall say my hand shall never be yours; for if once 'tis said, he will -hold it a matter of honour never to retract, though he saw us both -dying at his feet." - -De Coucy promised to be patient, and to be circumspect, and all that -lover could promise; and, engaging Isadore to sit down on a mossy seat -that nature herself had formed with the roots of an old oak, he -occupied the vacant minutes with all those sweet pourings forth of the -heart to which love, and youth, and imagination alone dare give way, -in this cold and stony world. Isadore's eyes were bent upon him, her -hand lay in his, and each was fully occupied with the other, when a -sort of half scream from the waiting-maid Alixe woke them from their -dreams; and, looking up, they found themselves in the presence of old -Sir Julian of the Mount. - -"Good! good! marvellous good!" cried the old knight.--"Get thee in, -Isadore--without a word!--Get thee in too, good mistress looker on!" -he added to Alixe; "'tis well thou art not a man instead of a woman, -or I would curry thy hide for thee. Get thee in, I say!--I must deal -with our noble host alone." - -Isadore obeyed her father's commands in silence, turning an imploring -look to De Coucy, as if once more to counsel patience. Alixe followed, -grumbling; and the old knight, turning to De Coucy, addressed him in a -tone of ironical compliment, intended to be more bitter than the most -unmixed abuse. - -"A thousand thanks! a thousand thanks! beau sire!" he said, "for your -disinterested hospitality. Good sooth, 'twas a pity your plan for -taking us prisoners did not go forward; for now you might have a fair -excuse for keeping us so, too. 'Twould have been an agreeable surprise -to us all--to me especially; and I thank you for it. Doubtless, you -proposed to marry my daughter without my knowledge also, and add -another agreeable surprise. I thank you for that, too, beau sire!" - -"You mistake me, good Sir Julian," replied De Coucy calmly: "I did not -propose to wed your daughter without your knowledge, but hoped that -your consent would follow your knowledge of our love. I am not rich, -but I do believe that want of wealth is the only objection you could -have----" - -"And enough surely," interrupted Sir Julian. "What! is that black -castle, and half a hundred roods of wild wood, a match for ten -thousand marks a year, which my child is heir too?--Beau sire, you do -mistake. Doubtless you are very liberal, where you give away other -people's property to receive yourself; but I am of a less generous -disposition. Besides," he added, more coolly, "to put the matter to -rest for ever. Sir Guy de Coucy, know that I have solemnly promised my -daughter's hand to the noble Guillaume de la Roche Guyon." - -"Promised her hand!" exclaimed De Coucy, "to Guillaume de la Roche -Guyon! Dissembling traitor! By the holy rood! he shall undergo my -challenge, and die for his cold treachery!" - -"Mark me!--mark me! I pray you, beau sire!" cried Sir Julian of the -Mount in the same cool tone. "Should Guillaume de la Roche Guyon -fall under your lance, you shall never have my child---so help me. -Heaven!--except with my curse upon her head. Ay! and even were he to -die or fall in the wars that are coming--for I give her not to him -till they be passed--you should not have her then--without," he added, -with a sneer, "I was your prisoner chained hand and foot; and you -could offer me acre with acre for my own land. But perhaps you still -intend to keep me prisoner, here in your stronghold. Such things have -been done, I know." - -"They will never be done by me, Count Julian," replied De Coucy, -"though it is with pain I see you go, and would fain persuade you to -stay, and think better of my suit; yet my drawbridge shall fall at -your command, as readily as at my own. Yet, let me beseech you to -think--I would not boast;--but still let me say, my name and deeds are -not unknown in the world. The wealth that once my race possessed has -not been squandered in feasting and revelry, but in the wars of the -blessed cross, in the service of religion and honour. As to this -Guillaume de la Roche Guyon, I will undertake, within a brief space, -to bring you his formal renunciation of your promise." - -"It cannot be, sir!--it cannot be!" interrupted Sir Julian. "I have -told you my mind. What I have said is fixed as fate. If you will let -me go, within this hour I depart from your castle; if you will not, -the dishonour be on your own head. Make no more efforts, sir," he -added, seeing De Coucy about to speak. "The words once passed from my -mouth are never recalled. Ask Giles, my squire, sir,--ask my -attendants all. They will tell you the same thing. What Count Julian -of the Mount has spoken is as immoveable as the earth." - -So saying, the old man turned, and walked back to the castle followed -by De Coucy, mourning over the breaking of the bright day-dream, -which, like one of the fine gossamers that glitter in the summer, had -drawn a bright shining line across his path, but had snapped for ever -with the first touch. - -Sir Julian's retinue were soon prepared, and the horses saddled in the -court-yard; and, when all was ready, the old knight brought down his -daughter to depart. She was closely veiled, but still De Coucy saw -that she was weeping, and advanced to place her on horseback. At that -moment, however, one of the squires, evidently seeing that all was not -right between his lord and the lord of the castle, thrust himself in -the way. - -"Back, serf!" exclaimed de Coucy, laying his hand upon his collar, and -in an instant he was seen reeling to the other side of the court, as -if he had been hurled from a catapult. In the mean while De Coucy -raised Isadore in his arms, and, placing her on her horse, pressed her -slightly in his embrace, saying in a low tone, "Be constant, and we -may win yet;" then yielding the place to Sir Julian, who approached, -he ordered the drawbridge of the castle to be lowered. - -The train passed through the arch, and over the bridge; and De Coucy -advanced to the barbican to catch the last look, as they wound down -the hill. Isadore could not resist, and waved her hand for an instant -before they were out of sight. De Coucy's heart swelled as if it would -have burst; but at that moment his squire approached, and put into his -hand a small packet, neatly folded and sealed, which, he said, Alixe -the waiting-woman had given him for his lord. De Coucy eagerly tore it -open. It contained a lock of dark hair, with the words "Till death," -written in the envelope. De Coucy pressed it to his heart, and turned -to re-enter the castle. - -"Ha, haw! Ha, haw!" cried Gallon the fool, perched on the battlements. -"Haw, haw, haw! Ha, haw!" - - - - -CHAPTER II. - - -By tardy conveyances, and over antediluvian roads, news travelled -slowly in the days we speak of; and the interdict which we have seen -pronounced at Dijon, and unknown at De Coucy Magny, was even some -hours older before the report thereof reached Compiègne. - -We must beg the gentle reader to remember a sunny-faced youth, for -whom the fair queen of France, Agnes de Meranie, was, when last we -left him, working a gay coat of arms. This garment, which it was then -customary to bear over the armour, was destined to be worn by one -whose sad place in history has caused many a tear--Arthur the son of -that Geoffrey Plantagenet, who was elder brother of John Lackland, the -meanest and most pitiful villain that ever wore a crown. - -How it happened that, on the death of Richard C[oe]ur de Lion, the -barons of England adhered to an usurper they despised rather than to -their legitimate prince, forms no part of this history. Suffice it, -that John ruled in England, and also retained possession of all the -feofs of his family in France, Normandy, Poitou, Anjou, and -Acquitaine, leaving to Arthur nought but the duchy of Brittany, which -descended to him from Constance his mother. - -It is not, however, to be thought that Arthur endured with patience -his uncle's usurpation of his rights. Far from it. Brought up at the -court of France, he clung to Philip Augustus, the friend in whose arms -his father had died, and ceased not to importune him for aid to -recover his dominions. Philip's limited means, fatigued already by -many vast enterprises, for long prevented him from lending that -succour to the young prince, which every principle of policy and -generosity stimulated him to grant. But while no national cause of -warfare existed to make the war against king John popular with the -barons of France, and while the vassals of the English king, though an -usurper, remained united in their attachment to him, Phillip felt that -to attempt the forcible assertion of Arthur's rights would be -altogether hopeless. He waited, therefore, watching his opportunity, -very certain that the weak frivolity or the treacherous depravity of -John's character would soon either alienate some portion of his own -vassals, or furnish matter of quarrel for the barons of France. - -Several years thus passed after Richard's death, drawn out in idle -treaties and fruitless negotiations:--treaties which in all ages have -been but written parchments; and negotiations, which in most instances -are but concatenations of frauds. At length, as Philip had foreseen, -the combination of folly and wickedness, which formed the principal -point of John's mind, laid him open to the long-meditated blow. - -In one of his spurts of levity, beholding in the midst of her -attendants the beautiful Isabella of Angoulême, affianced to Hugues le -Brun de Lusignan, Comte de la Marche, the English monarch--without the -least hesitation on the score of honour, which he never knew, or -decency, which he never practised,--ordered her to be carried off from -the midst of her attendants, and borne to the castle of the Gueret, -where he soon induced her to forget her former engagements with his -vassal. - -The barons of Poitou, indignant at the insult offered to their order, -in the person of one of their noblest companions; and to their family, -in the near relation of all the most distinguished nobles of the -province, appealed to the court of Philip Augustus, as John's -sovereign for his feofs in France. Philip, glad to establish the -rights of his court, summoned the king of England before his peers, as -count of Anjou; and on his refusing to appear, eagerly took advantage -of the fresh kindled indignation of the barons of Poitou and Anjou to -urge the rights of Arthur to the heritage of the Plantagenets. - -Already in revolt against John, a great part of each of those -provinces instantly acknowledged Arthur for their sovereign; and the -indignant nobles flocked to Paris to greet him, and induce him to -place himself at their head. Arthur beheld himself now at the top of -that tide which knows no ebb, but leads on to ruin or to glory; and -accepting at once the offers of the revolted barons, he pressed Philip -Augustus to give him the belt and spurs of a knight, though still -scarcely more than a boy; and to let him try his fortune against his -usurping uncle in the field. - -Philip saw difficulties and dangers in the undertaking; but, knowing -the power of opportunity, he yielded: not, however, without taking -every precaution to ensure success to the young prince's enterprise. -For the festivities that were to precede the ceremony of Arthur's -knighthood, he called together all those barons who were most likely, -from ancient enmity to John, or ancient friendship for the dead -Geoffrey, or from personal regard for himself, or general love of -excitement and danger,--or, in short, from any of those causes that -might move the minds of men towards his purpose,--to aid in -establishing Arthur in the continental feofs, at least, of the House -of Plantagenet. - -He took care, too, to dazzle them with splendour and display, and to -render the ceremonies which accompanied the prince's reception as a -knight as gay and glittering as possible. - -It was for this occasion that Agnes de Meranie, while Philip was -absent receiving the final refusal of John to appear before his court, -employed her time in embroidering the coat of arms which the young -knight was to wear after his reception. - -Although the ceremony was solemn, and the details magnificent, we will -not here enter into any account of the creation of a knight, reserving -it for some occasion where we have not spent so much time in -description. Suffice it that the ceremony was over, and the young -knight stood before his godfather in chivalry belted and spurred, and -clothed in the full armour of a knight. His beaver was up, and his -young and almost feminine face would have formed a strange contrast -with his warlike array, had it not been for the fire of the -Plantagenets beaming out in his eye, and asserting his right to the -proud crest he bore,--where a bunch of broom was supported by the -triple figure of a lion, a unicorn, and a griffin, the ancient crest -of the fabulous king Arthur. - -After a few maxims of chivalry, heard with profound respect by all the -knights present, Philip Augustus rose, and, taking Arthur by the hand, -led the way from the chapel into his council-chamber, where, having -seated himself on his throne, he placed the prince on his right hand, -and the barons having ranged themselves round the council-board, the -king addressed them thus:-- - -"Fair knights, and noble barons of Anjou and Poitou!--for to you, -amongst all the honourable lords and knights here present, I first -address myself,--at your instant prayer, that we should take some -measures to free you from the tyranny of an usurper, and restore to -you your lawful suzerain, we are about to yield you our well-beloved -cousin and son, Arthur, whom we tender as dearly as if he were sprung -from our own blood. Guard him, therefore, nobly. Be ye to him true and -faithful,--for Arthur Plantagenet is your lawful suzerain, and none -other, as son of Geoffrey, elder brother of that same John who now -usurps his rights: I, therefore, Philip, king of France, your -sovereign and his, now command you to do homage to him as your liege -lord." - -At these words, each of the barons he addressed rose in turn, and, -advancing, knelt before the young prince, over whose fair and noble -countenance a blush of generous embarrassment spread itself, as he saw -some of the best knights in France bend the knee before him. One after -another, also, the barons pronounced the formula of homage, to the -following effect:-- - -"I, Hugo le Brun, Sire de Lusignan, Comte de la Marche, do liege -homage to Arthur Plantagenet, my born lord and suzerain,--save and -except always the rights of the king of France. I will yield him -honourable service; I will ransom him in captivity; and I will offer -no evil to his daughter or his wife in his house dwelling." - -After this, taking the right hand of each in his, Arthur kissed them -on the mouth; which completed the ceremony of the homage. - -"And now, fair barons," said Philip, "though in no degree do I doubt -your knightly valour, or suppose that, even by your own powers, -together with this noble youth's good right, and God to boot, you -could not chase from Anjou, Poitou, and Normandy, the traitor John and -his plundering bands, yet it befits me not to let my cousin and godson -go, without some help from me:--name, therefore, my fair knight," he -continued, turning to Arthur, "such of my valiant barons as, in thy -good suit, thou judgest fit to help thee valiantly in this thy -warfare; and, by my faith! he that refuses to serve thee as he would -me, shall be looked upon as my enemy!--Yet remember," added the king, -anxious to prevent offence where Arthur's choice might _not_ fall, -although such selections were common in that day, and not considered -invidious,--"remember that it is not by worthiness and valour alone -that you must judge,--for then, amongst the knights of France, your -decision would be difficult; but there are, as I have before shown -you, many points which render some of the barons more capable of -assisting you against John of England than others;--such as their -territories lying near the war; their followers being horse or foot; -and many other considerations which must guide you as you choose." - -"Oh, beau sire," replied Arthur eagerly, "if it rests with me to -choose, I name at once that Sir Guy de Coucy I saw at the tournament -of the Champeaux. There is the lion in his eye, and I have heard how -in the battle of Tyre he slew nineteen Saracens with his own hand." - -"He shall be sent to before the year is older by a day," replied -Philip. "His castle is but one day's journey from this place. I doubt -me though, from what I have heard, that his retinue is but small. -However, we will summon all the vassals from the lands of his aunt's -husband, the lord of Tankerville, which will give him the leading of a -prince; and, in the mean time, as that may take long, we will give him -command to gather a band of Brabançois; which may be soon done, for -the country is full of them, unhappily.--But speak again, Arthur. Whom -name you next?" - -"I would say, Hugues de Dampierre, and the Sire de Beaujeu," replied -Arthur, looking towards the end of the table where those two barons -sat, "if I thought they would willingly come." - -"By my life, they will!" replied Philip.--"What say you, Imbert de -Beaujeu?--What say you, Hugues de Dampierre?" - -"For my part," replied Hugues de Dampierre, "you well know, beau sire, -that I am always ready to put my foot in the stirrup, in any -honourable cause. I must, however, have twenty days to raise my -vassals; but I pledge myself, on the twenty-first day from this, to be -at the city of Tours, followed by sixty as good knights as ever -couched a lance, all ready to uphold prince Arthur with hand and -heart." - -"Thanks, thanks! beau sire," replied Arthur, in an ecstasy of delight, -"That will be aid, indeed!" Then, careful not to offend the barons of -Poitou by seeming to place more confidence in the strength of others -than in their efforts in his cause, he added, "If, even by the -assistance of the noble barons of Poitou alone, I could not have -conquered my feofs in France, such generous succour would render my -success certain; and in truth, I think, that if the Sire de Beaujeu, -and the Count de Nevers, who looks as if he loved me, will but hold me -out a helping hand, I will undertake to win back my crown of England -from my bad uncle's head." - -"That will I,--that will I, boy!" said the blunt Count de Nevers. -"Hervey de Donzy will lend you his hand willingly, and his sword in it -to boot. Ay, and if I bring thee not an hundred good lances to Tours, -at the end of twenty days, call me recreant an' you will. My say is -said!" - -"And I," said Imbert de Beaujeu, "will be there also, with as many men -as I can muster, and as many friends as love me, from the other bank -of the Loire. So, set thy mind at ease, fair prince, for we will win -thee back the feofs of the Plantagenets, or many a war-horse shall run -masterless, and many a casque be empty." - -Arthur was expressing his glad thanks, for promises which plumed his -young hope like an eagle; and Philip Augustus was dictating to a clerk -a summons to De Coucy to render himself instantly to Paris, with what -servants of arms he could collect, if he were willing to serve Arthur -duke of Brittany in his righteous quarrel; when the seats which had -remained vacant round the council-chamber were filled by the arrival -of the bishops of Paris, the archbishop of Rheims, and several other -bishops and mitred abbots, who had not assisted at the ceremony of -Arthur's knighthood. - -"You come late, holy fathers," said Philip, slightly turning round. -"The ceremony is over, and the council nearly so;" and he proceeded -with what he was dictating to the clerk. - -The clergy replied not, but by a whisper among themselves; yet it was -easy to judge, from their grave and wrinkled brows, and anxious eyes, -that some matter of deep moment sat heavily on the mind of each. The -moment after, however, the door of the council-chamber again opened, -and two ecclesiastics entered, who, by the distinctive marks which -characterise national features, might at once be pronounced Italians. - -The clerk, who wrote from Philip's dictation, was kneeling at the -table beside the monarch's chair, so that, speaking in a low voice, -the king naturally bent his head over him, and consequently took no -notice of the two strangers, till he was surprised into looking up, by -hearing a deep loud voice begin to read, in Latin, all the most heavy -denunciations of the church against his realm and person. - -"By the Holy Virgin Mother of Our Lord!" cried the king, his brow -reddening and glowing like heated iron, "this insolence is beyond -belief! Have they then dared to put our realm in interdict?" - -This question, though made generally, was too evidently applied to the -bishops, for them to escape reply; and the archbishop of Rheims, -though with a flush on his cheek, that bespoke no small anxiety for -the result, replied boldly, at least as far as words went. - -"It is but too true, sire. Our holy father the pope, the common head -of the great Christian church, after having in vain attempted to lead -you by gentle means to religious obedience, has at length been -compelled, in some sort, to use severity; as a kind parent is often -obliged to chastise his----" - -"How now!" cried Philip in a voice of thunder: "Dare _you_ use such -language to me? I marvel you sink not to the earth, bishop, rather -than so pronounce your own condemnation!--Put those men forth!" he -continued, pointing to the two Italians, who, not understanding any -thing that was said at the table, continued to read aloud the -interdict and anathema, interrupting and drowning every other voice, -with a sort of thorough bass of curses, that, detached and disjointed -as they were, almost approached the ridiculous. "Put them forth!" -thundered the king to his men-at-arms. "If they go not willingly, cast -them out headlong!--But no!" he added, after a moment, "they are but -instruments--use them firmly, but courteously, serjeant. Let me not -see them again.--And now, archbishop, tell me, have you dared to give -your countenance and assent to this bold insolence of the pontiff of -Rome?" - -"Alas! sire, what could I do?" demanded the archbishop, in a much more -humble tone than that which he had before used. - -"What could you do!" exclaimed Philip. "By the _joyeuse_ of St. -Charlemagne! do you ask me what you could do? Assert the rights of the -clergy of France!--assert the rights of the king!--refuse to recognise -the usurped power of an ambitious prelate! Yield him obedience in -lawful things; but stand firmly against him, where he stretched out -his hand to seize a prerogative that belongs not to his place! This -could you have done, sir bishop! and, by the Lord that liveth, you -shall find it the worse for you, that you have _not_ done it!" - -"But, sire," urged one of the prelates on the king's right, "the -blessed pope is our general and common father!" - -"Is it the act of a father to invade his children's rights?" demanded -Philip in the same vehement tone--"is it not rather the act of a bad -stepfather, who, coming in, pillages his new wife's children of their -inheritance?" - -"By my life! a good likeness have you found, sir king!" said the blunt -Count de Nevers. "I never heard a better. The holy church is the poor -simple wife, who takes for her second husband this pope Innocent, who -tries to pillage the children--namely, the church of France--of their -rights of deciding on all ecclesiastical questions within the realm." - -"It is too true, indeed!" said the king. "Now, mark me, prelates of -France! But you first, archbishop of Rheims! Did you not solemnly -pronounce the dissolution of my marriage with Ingerburge of Denmark, -after mature consideration and consultation with a general synod of -the clergy of France?" - -"It is true, indeed, I did, sire!" replied the archbishop. "But----" - -"But me no buts! sir," replied the king. "I will none of them! You -did pronounce the divorce. I have it under your hand, and that is -enough.--And you, bishop of Paris? You of Soissons?--and you?--and -you?--and you?" he continued, turning to the prelates, one after the -other. - -No one could deny the sentence of divorce which they had pronounced -some years before, and Philip proceeded. - -"Well then, by the Lord Almighty, I swear, that you _must_, and -_shall_, support your sentence! If you were wrong, you shall bear the -blame and the punishment; not I--no, nor one I love better than -myself. Let that bishop in France, who did not pronounce sentence of -divorce between Ingerburge and myself, enforce the interdict within -his diocese if he will; but whosoever shall do so, bishop or abbot, -whose hand is to that sentence, I will cast him forth from his -diocese, and his feofs, and his lands. I will strip him of his wealth -and his rank, and banish him from my realms for ever. Let it be marked -and remembered! for, as I am a crowned king, I will keep my word to -the letter!" - -Philip spoke in that firm, deep, determined tone, which gave no reason -to hope or expect that any thing on earth would make him change his -purpose. And after he had done, he laid his hand still clasped upon -the table, the rigid sinews seeming with difficulty to relax in the -least from the tension into which the vehement excitement of his mind -had drawn them. He glanced his eyes, too, from countenance to -countenance of the bishops, with a look that seemed to dare them to -show one sign of resistance. - -But all their eyes were cast down in bitter silence, each well knowing -that the fault, however it arose, lay amongst themselves; and Philip, -after a moment's pause, rose from the table, exclaiming--"Lords and -knights, the council is over;" and, followed by Arthur and the -principal part of the barons, he left the hall. - - - - -CHAPTER III. - - -I love not to see any one depart, for the sad magic of fancy is sure -to conjure up a host of phantasm danger, and sorrows, to fill the -space between the instant present, and that far distant one, when the -same form shall again stand before us. We are sure, too, that Time -must work his bitter commission,--that he must impair, or cast down, -or destroy; and I know hardly any pitch of human misery so great, that -when we see a beloved form leave us, we may justly hope, on our next -meeting, to find all circumstances of a brighter aspect. Make up our -accounts how we will with Fate, Time is always in the balance against -us. - -The last sight of Isadore of the Mount called up in the breast of Guy -de Coucy as sombre a train of thoughts as ever invaded the heart of -man since the fall. When might he see her again? he asked himself, and -what might intervene? Would she not forget him? would she indeed be -his till death? Would not the slow flowing of hour after hour, with -all the obliterating circumstance of time's current, efface his image -from her memory? and even if her heart still retained the traces that -young affection had there imprinted, what but misery would it bring to -both? He had spoken hopes to her ear, that he did not feel himself; -and, when he looked up at the large, dark mass of towers and -battlements before him, as he turned back from the barbican, it struck -his eye with the cold, dead, unhopeful aspect of a tomb. He entered -it, however, and, proceeding direct to the inner court, approached the -foot of the watch-tower, the small, narrow door of which opened there, -without communicating with any other building. - -De Coucy paced up its manifold steps, and, stationing himself at the -opening, fixed his eyes upon the skirt of the forest, where the road -emerged, waiting for one more glance of her he loved, though the -distance made the sight but a mere slave of Fancy. In about a quarter -of an hour, the train of Sir Julian appeared, issuing from the forest; -and De Coucy gazed, and gazed, upon the woman's form that rode beside -the chief of the horsemen, till the whole became an indistinct mass of -dark spots, as they wound onward towards Vernon. - -Feeling, he knew not why, an abhorrence to his own solitary hall, the -young knight remained leaning his arms upon the slight balustrade of -the beffroy-tower, which, open on all sides, was only carried up -farther by four small pillars supporting the roof, where hung the -heavy bell call the _bancloche_. As he thus continued meditating on -all that was gloomy in his situation, his eyes still strayed -heedlessly over the prospect; sometimes turning in the direction of -Paris, as he thought of seeking fortune and honour in arms; sometimes -looking again towards Vernon though the object of his love was no -longer visible. - -On the road from Paris, however, two objects were to be seen, which he -had not remarked before. The first was the figure of a man on foot, at -about half a mile's distance from the castle, to which it was slowly -approaching: the other was still so far off, that De Coucy could not -distinguish at first whether it was a horseman, or some wayfarer on -foot; but the rapidity with which it passed the various rises and -falls of the road, soon showed him that whoever it was, was not only -mounted, but proceeding at the full speed of a quick horse. - -For a moment or two, from old habits of observation as a soldier, De -Coucy watched its approach; but then again really careless about every -thing that did not refer to his more absorbing feelings, he turned -from the view, and slowly descended the steps of the tower. - -His feet turned once more mechanically to the drawbridge, and placing -himself under the arch of the barbican, he leaned his tall, graceful -figure against one of the enormous door-posts, revolving a thousand -vague schemes for his future existence. The strong swimmer Hope, still -struggled up through the waves that Reflection poured continually on -his head; and De Coucy's dreams were still of how he might win high -fortune and Isadora of the Mount. - -Should he, in the first place, he asked himself, defy Guillaume de la -Roche Guyon, and make him yield his claim? But no;--he remembered the -serious vow of the old count; and he saw, that by so doing he should -but cast another obstacle on the pile already heaped up between him -and his purpose. Sir Julian had said, too, that Isadore's hand was not -to be given away till the coming wars were over. Those wars might be -long, De Coucy thought, and uncertain,--and hope lives upon reprieves. -He must trust to accident, and, in the mean time, strive manfully to -repair the wrong that Fortune had done him. But how? was the question. -Tournaments, wars,--all required some equipment, and his shrunk purse -contained not a single besant. - -"Oh! 'tis a steep and rugged ascent!" thought De Coucy, "that same -hill of Fortune; and the man must labour hard that would climb it, -like yon old man, toiling up the steep path that leads hither." - -Such was the only notice that the young knight at first took of the -weary foot-traveller he had seen from above; but gradually the figure, -dressed in its long brown robe, with the white beard streaming down to -the girdle, appeared more familiar to him; and a few steps more, as -the old man advanced, called fully to his remembrance the hermit whose -skill had so speedily brought about the cure of his bruises in -Auvergne, and whom we have since had more than one occasion to bring -upon the scene. - -De Coucy had, by nature, that true spirit of chivalrous gallantry, -even the madness of which has been rendered beautiful by the great -Spaniard. No sooner did he recognise the old man than he advanced to -meet him, and aided him as carefully up the steep ascent as a son -might aid a parent. - -"Welcome, good father hermit!" said he. "Come you here by accident, or -come you to rest for a while at the hold of so poor a knight as -myself?" - -"I came to see whether thou wert alive or dead," replied the hermit. -"I knew not whether some new folly might not have taken thee from the -land of the living." - -"Not yet," replied De Coucy with a smile: "my fate is yet an unsealed -one. But, in faith, good father, I am glad to see thee; for, when thou -hast broken thy fast in my hall, I would fain ask thee for some few -words of good counsel." - -"To follow your own, after you have asked mine?" replied the hermit. -"Such is the way with man, at least.--But first, as you say, my son, I -will break my fast. Bid some of the lazy herd that of course feed on -you, seek me some cresses from the brook, and give me a draught of -water." - -"Must such be your sole food, good hermit?" demanded De Coucy. "Will -not your vow admit of some more nourishing repast, after so long a -journey too?" - -"I seek nought better," replied the hermit, as De Coucy led him into -the hall. "I am not one of those who hold, that man was formed to gnaw -the flesh of all harmless beasts, as if he were indeed but a more -cowardly sort of tiger. Let your men give me what I ask,--somewhat -that never felt the throb of life, or the sting of death,--those -wholesome herbs that God gave to be food to all that live, to bless -the sight with their beauty, and the smell with their odour, and the -palate with their grateful freshness. Give me no tiger's food. But -thou lookest sad, my son," he added, gazing in De Coucy's face, from -which much of the sparkling expression of undimmed gaiety of heart -that used once to shine out in every feature had now passed away. - -"I _am_ sad, good hermit," replied the young knight. "Time holds two -cups, I have heard say, both of which each man must drink in the -course of his life;--either now the sweet, and then the bitter; or the -bitter first, and the sweet after; or else, mingling them both -together, taste the mixed beverage through existence. Now, I have -known much careless happiness in the days past, and I am beginning to -quaff off the bitter bowl, sir hermit." - -"There is but one resource," said the hermit, "there is but one -resource, my son!" - -"And what is that?" demanded De Coucy. "Do you mean death?" - -"Nay," replied the old man; "I meant Christ's cross. There is the -hope, and the succour, and the reward for all evils suffered in this -life! Mark me as I sit here before thee:--didst thou ever see a thing -more withered--broken--worn? And yet I was once full of green -strength, and flourishing--as proud a thing as ever trampled on his -mother-earth: rich, honoured, renowned: I was a very giant in my -vanity! My sway stretched over wide, wide lands. My lance was always -in the vanward of the battle; my voice was heard in courts, and my -council was listened to by kings. I held in my arms the first young -love of my heart; and, strange to say! that love increased, and grew -to such absorbing passion, that, as years rolled on, I quitted all for -it--ambition, strife, pride, friendship,--all!" - -"Methinks, surely," said De Coucy, with all his feelings for Isadore -fresh on his heart's surface, "such were the way to be happy!" - -"As much as the way for a gambler to win is to stake all his wealth -upon one cast," replied the hermit. "But, mark me! she died, and left -me childless--hopeless--alone! And I went out into the world to search -for something that might refill the void her loss had left, not in my -heart, for that was as a sepulchre to my dead love, never to be opened -again;--no, but to fill the void in my thoughts--to give me something -to think of--to care for. I went amongst men of my own age (for I was -then unbroken), but I found them feelingless or brutal, sensual and -voluptuous; either plunderers of their neighbours, or mere eaters and -drinkers of fifty. I then went amongst the old; but I found them -querulous and tetchy; brimful of their own miseries, and as selfish in -their particular pains, as the others in their particular pleasures. I -went amongst the young, and there I found generous feelings and unworn -thoughts; and free and noble hearts, from which the accursed chisel of -time had never hewn out the finer and more exquisite touches of -Nature's perfecting hand: but then, I found the wild, ungovernable -struggling of the war-horse for the battle-plain; the light, -thoughtless impatience of the flower-changing butterfly, and I gave it -all up as a hopeless search, and sunk back into my loneliness again. -My soul withered; my mind got twisted and awry, like the black stumps -of the acacia on the sterile plains of the desert; and I lived on in -murmuring grief and misanthropy, till came a blessed light upon my -mind, and I found _that_ peace at the foot of Christ's cross, which -the world and its things could never give. Then it was I quitted the -habitations of men, in whose commune I had found no consolation, and -gave myself up to the brighter hopes that opened to me from the world -beyond!" - -De Coucy was listening with interest, when the sound of the warder's -horn from one of the towers announced that something was in sight, of -sufficient importance to call for immediate attention. - -"Where is Hugo de Barre, exclaimed the knight, starting up; and, -excusing this incivility to the hermit, he proceeded to ascertain the -cause of the interruption. - -"Hugo de Barre is in the tower himself, beau sire," replied old Onfroy -the seneschal, whom De Coucy crossed at the hall door, just as he was -carrying in a platter full of herbs to the hermit, with no small -symptoms of respect. "I see not why he puts himself up there, to blow -his horn, as soon as he comes back! He was never created warder, I -trow!" - -Without staying to notice the old man's stickling for prerogative, De -Coucy hastened to demand of the squire wherefore he had sounded the -great warder horn, which hung in the watch-tower. - -"One of the king's serjeants-at-arms," cried Hugo from the top of the -tower, "is but now riding up the hill to the castle, as fast as he can -come, beau sire." - -"Shut the gates," exclaimed De Coucy. "Up with the bridge!" - -These orders were just obeyed, when the king's serjeant, whom Hugo had -seen from above, rode up and blew his horn before the gates. De Coucy -had by this time mounted the outer wall, and, looking down upon the -royal officer, demanded, "Whence come ye, sir serjeant, and whom seek -ye?" - -"I come from Philip king of France," replied the serjeant, "and seek -Sir Guy de Coucy, châtelain of De Coucy Magny." - -"If you seek for no homage or man-service, in the king's name, for -these my free lands of Magny," replied De Coucy, "my gates shall open -and my bridge shall fall; but, if you come to seek liege homage, -return to our beau sire, the king, and tell him, that of my own hand I -hold these lands; that for them I am not his man; but that they were -given as free share, by Clovis, to their first possessor, from whom to -me, through father and child, they have by right descended." - -"I come with no claim, beau sire," replied the royal messenger, "but -simply bear you a loving letter from my liege lord. Sir[19] Philip the -king, with hearty greetings on his part." - - --------------------- - -[Footnote 19: This must not be looked upon as an expression hazarded -without authority, notwithstanding its homeliness. The only titles of -honour known in those days were _Monseigneur_, _My Lord_; _Illustres -Seigneurs_, applied in general to an assembly of nobles; and _Beau -Sire_, or Fair Sir, which was not only bestowed upon kings, on all -occasions, but, even as lately as the reign of St. Louis, was -addressed to God himself. Many prayers beginning _Beau Sire Dieu_ are -still extant.] - --------------------- - - -"Open the gates, then," cried De Coucy, still, however, taking the -precaution to add, in a loud voice,--"Mark, all men, that this is not -in sign or token of homage or service; but merely as a courtesy to the -messenger of the lord king!" So unsettled and insecure was the right -of property in those days, and such were the precautions necessary to -guard every act that might be construed into vassalage! - -De Coucy descended to receive the messenger; and, on entering the -hall, found the old seneschal still busy in serving the hermit, and -apparently bestowing on him a full, true, and particular account of -the family of the De Coucys, as well as of his young lord's virtues, -exploits, and adventures, with the profound and inexhaustible -garrulity of an old and favoured servant. At the knight's approach, -however, he withdrew; and the king's serjeant-at-arms was ushered into -the hall. - -"I was commanded to wait no answer, beau sire," said the man, -delivering the packet into the châtelain's hand. "The king, trusting -to the known loyalty and valour of the Sire de Coucy, deemed that -there would be but one reply, when he was called to high deeds and a -good cause." - -"By my faith!" exclaimed the knight, "I hope some one has dared to -touch the glove I hung up in the queen's good quarrel! I will drive my -lance through his heart, if it be defended with triple iron! But I see -thou art in haste, good friend. Drain one cup of wine, and thou shalt -depart." - -De Coucy cut not the silk that tied the packet till the messenger was -gone. Then, however, he opened it eagerly, and read:-- - -"To our faithful and well-beloved Sir Guy de Coucy, these. Having -undertaken and pledged our kingly word to Arthur Plantagenet duke of -Brittany, our well-beloved cousin and godson in arms, to aid him and -assist him, to the utmost of our power, in his just and righteous war -against John of Anjou, calling himself king of England: and he, -Arthur, our cousin, as aforesaid, having desired us to use our best -entreaty and endeavour to prevail on you. Sir Guy de Coucy, renowned -in arms, to aid with your body and friends in his aforesaid just wars; -we therefore, thus moved, do beg, as a king may beg, that you will -instantly, on the reading hereof, call together your vassals and -followers, knights, squires, and servants of arms, together with all -persons of good heart and prowess in war, volunteers or mercenaries, -as the case may be, to join the aforesaid Arthur at our court of the -city of Paris, within ten days from the date hereof, for the purposes -hereinbefore specified. Honour in arms, fair favour of your lady, and -the king's thanks, shall be your reward: and, for the payment of such -Brabançois or other mercenaries as you can collect to serve under your -banner in the said wars, not to exceed five hundred men, this letter -shall be your warrant on the treasurer of our royal _domaines_; at the -average hire and pay, mensual and diurnal, given by us during the last -war. Given at our court of Paris, this Wednesday, the eve of the -nativity of the blessed Virgin, Queen of Heaven, to whom we commend -thee in all love. - - "THE KING." - - -A radiant flush of joy broke over De Coucy's countenance as he read; -but before his eye had reached the end of the letter, importunate -memory raked up the forgotten bankruptcy of his means, and cast it in -his teeth. The hand which held the letter before his eyes dropped to -his side; and with the fingers of the other he wandered thoughtfully -over his brow, while he considered and reconsidered every expedient -for raising sums sufficient to furnish him worthily forth for the -expedition to which he was called. In the mean while, the hermit sat -beside him, marking his every action, with a glance that might perhaps -have suited Diogenes, had not a certain pensive shake of the head, as -he gazed on the working of human passions in the noble form before -him, showed a somewhat milder feeling than the cynic of the tub was -ever touched withal. - -"Oh, that foul creditor, Poverty!" muttered De Coucy. "He chains the -mind and the heart, as well as the limbs; and pinions down great -desires and noble actions, to the dungeon floor of this sordid world. -Here, with a career of glory before me, that might lead to riches, to -fame, to love! I have not a besant to equip my train, all tattered -from the wars in Palestine. As for the Brabançois, too, that the king -bids me bring, they must ever have some money to equip, before they -are fit for service. He should have known _that_, at least; but he -forgot he wrote to a beggar, who could not advance a crown were it to -save his nearest from starvation!" - -"You are vexed, my son," said the hermit, "and speak aloud, though you -know it not. What is it moves thee thus?" - -"I am moved, good hermit," replied the knight sadly, "that now--at the -very moment when all the dearest hopes of my heart call on me to push -forward to the highest goal of honour, and when the way is clear -before me--that the emptiness of my purse--the perfect beggary of my -fortunes, casts a bar in my way that I cannot overleap. Read that -letter, and then know, that, instead of a baron's train, I can but -bring ten mounted men to serve prince Arthur; nor are these armed or -equipped so that I can look on them without shame. My lodging must be -in the field, my food gathered from the earth, till the day of battle; -nor dare I join the prince till then, for the expenses of the city -suit not those whose purses are so famished as mine." - -"Nay, my son," replied the hermit calmly, "think better of thy -fortunes. To win much, one must often lose somewhat: and by a small -expense, though you may not ruffle it amongst the proudest of the -prince's train, you may fit yourself to grace it decently, till such -time as in the battle-field you can show how little akin is courage to -wealth. This may be surely done at a very small expense of gold." - -"A small expense of gold!" exclaimed the young knight impatiently. "I -tell thee, good father, I have none! None--no, not a besant!" - -"Nay, then," replied the hermit, "something you must sell, to produce -more hereafter. That rare carbuncle in your thumb-ring will bring you -doubtless gold enough to shine as brightly as the best." - -"Nay," said De Coucy, "I part not with that. I would rather cut off -the hand it hangs upon, and coin that into gold." - -"Some woman's trinket," said the hermit with a frown; for men attached -to the church, by whatever ties, were not very favourable to the -idolatrous devotion of that age to the fairer sex--a devotion which -they might think somewhat trenched upon their rights. "Some woman's -trinket, on my life!" said the hermit. "Thou wouldst guard no holy -relic so, young man." - -"Faith, hermit, you do me wrong," replied De Coucy, without flinching. -"Though my love to my lady be next to my duty to my God, yet this is -not, as you say, a woman's trinket. 'Twas the gift of a good and noble -knight, the Count de Tankerville, to me, then young and going to the -Holy Land, put on my finger with many a wise and noble counsel, by -which I have striven to guide me since. Death, as thou hast heard, -good hermit, has since placed his cold bar between us; but I would not -part with this for worlds of ore. I am like the wild Arab of the -desert," he added with a smile, "in this sort somewhat superstitious; -and I hold this ring, together with the memory of the good man who -gave it, as a sort of talisman to guard me from evil spirits." - -"Well! if thou wilt not part with it, I cannot help thee," replied the -hermit. "Yet I know a certain jeweller would give huge sums of silver -for such a stone as that." - -"It cannot be!" answered De Coucy. "But now thou mind'st me; I have a -bright smaragd, that, in my young days of careless prosperity, I -bought of a rich Jew at Ascalon. If it were worth the value that he -gave it, 'twere now a fortune to me. I pray thee, gentle hermit, take -it with thee to the city. Give it to the jeweller thou speakest of; -and bid him, as an honest and true man, send me with all speed what -sum he may." - -The hermit undertook the charge; and De Coucy instantly sent his page -to the chamber, where he had left the emerald, which, being brought -down, he committed to the hands of the old man, praying him to make no -delay. The hermit, however, still seemed to hanker after the large -carbuncle on De Coucy's hand, (which was also, be it remarked, -engraved with his signet,) and it was not till the young knight had -once and again repeated his refusal, that he rose to depart. - -De Coucy conducted him to the outer gate, followed by his page, who, -when the old man had given his blessing, and begun to descend the -hill, shook his head with a meaning look, exclaiming, "Ah, beau sire! -he has got the emerald; and, I fear, you will never hear more of it: -but he has not got the carbuncle, which was what he wanted. When first -he saw you, at the time you were hurt in Auvergne, he looked at -nothing but that; and would have had it off your hand, too, if Hugo -and I had not kept our eyes on him all the while." - -"Nonsense, nonsense, boy!" cried De Coucy; "send me the new servant of -arms, Jodelle!" - -The coterel was not long in obeying the summons. "You told me," said -De Coucy, as he approached, "not many days ago, that you had once been -followed by a band of two hundred Brabançois, who were now, you heard, -roaming about, seeking service with some baron or suzerain who would -give them employment. Have you any means of communicating with them, -should you wish it?" - -"Why, you know, beau sire," replied Jodelle, "and there is no use of -denying it, that we are oftentimes obliged to separate when the wars -are over, and go hither and thither to seek food as we best may; but -we take good care not to do so without leaving some chance of our -meeting again, when we desire it. The ways we manage that, are part of -our mystery, which I am in no manner bound to divulge; but I doubt not -I could soon discover, at least, where my ancient companions are." - -"I seek none of your secrets, sir Brabançois," said De Coucy. "If you -can find your companions, do; and tell them for me, that the king -calls upon me to aid the prince Arthur Plantagenet against bad John of -Anjou, giving me commission, at the same time, to raise a body of five -hundred free spears, to serve under my leading; for whose pay, at the -rate of the last war, Philip makes himself responsible. If your -companions will take service with me, therefore, they may; but each -man must have served before, must be well trained to arms, -disciplined, and obedient; for De Coucy is no marauder, to pass over -military faults, because ye be free companions." - -The coterel readily undertook a task that chimed so well with what he -already purposed; bounding his promises, however, to endeavours; and -striving to wring from De Coucy some offer of present supply to equip -his troop, whom he well knew to be in a very indifferent condition, as -far as arms and habiliments went. - -Finding this to be out of the young knight's power, he left him, and -proceeded, as rapidly as possible, to seek out the hiding-place of the -wild band, with whom we have already seen him in contact. His farther -motions for the next two days were not of sufficient interest to be -here put down; but on the third morning he presented himself at the -young knight's chamber-door, as he was rising, bringing him news that -he had discovered his band, and that they willingly agreed to follow -so renowned a knight. He added, moreover, that at mid-day precisely, -they would present themselves for _monstre_, as it was called, or -review, in the great carrefour of the forest. In the mean time, he -swore faith, true service, and obedience to the young knight in their -name, for so long as the war should last. - -The time of De Coucy and his followers had been employed in polishing -and preparing all the old arms, offensive and defensive, that the -castle contained; and of the former, indeed, no small quantity had -been collected; so that in the great hall lay many a sheaf of arrows -and a pile of spears, with swords, daggers, maces, and bows not a few; -some scores of battle-axes and partisans, together with various -anomalous weapons, such as bills, hooks, long knives, iron stars, and -cutting pikes. But of defensive armour the supply was wofully small. - -At the appointed hour of mid-day, the knight, followed by his squire -and servants, now armed more completely than on their return from -Palestine, proceeded to the great carrefour of the forest, where, as -they approached, they beheld the body of Brabançois already arrived on -the ground, and drawn up in so regular and soldierlike a manner, that -even the experienced eye of De Coucy was deceived at first, and he -fancied them as well-armed a body of cavalry as ever he had seen. - -When he came into the centre of the carrefour, however, a very -different sight struck his eye; and he could not help striking his -gauntleted hand upon his thigh till the armour rang again, with pure -mortification at seeing the hopeless state of rust and raggedness of -his new recruits. - -Nor was this all: not two of the party presented the same appearance. -One was in a steel corselet,--another in a haubert,--another -had neither one nor the other. Some had brassards,--some had -cuissards,--some had splints,--some had none at all. In short, it -seemed as if they had murdered half-a-dozen men-at-arms, and divided -their armour between two hundred; so that when De Coucy thought of -presenting himself, thus followed, at the court of Philip Augustus, he -was first like to give himself up to despair, and then burst into a -loud fit of laughter. - -A very slight circumstance, however, changed the face of affairs. As -he stood gazing on his ragged troop, with a half-rueful, half-laughing -countenance, an ass, apparently loaded with sand, and a man driving -it, were seen slowly approaching, as if intending to proceed to the -castle. - -"By the Lord!" cried the young knight, "this is a Godsend--for, on my -word, we shall want sand enough to scrub our armour. What hast thou -there, good man?" he added, as the ass and his driver came near. - -"Sand for the châtelain de Coucy," replied the man. "Be you he?" - -"Yes," answered the knight.--"Sand for me!--What mean you, good -friend? You must mistake." - -"Not so, beau sire!" replied the driver, approaching and speaking -low--"'tis a thousand marks of silver!" - -"Ha!--Who from?" - -"The price of a ring," replied the man, sent by the holy "Bernard of -St. Mandé by me, his humble penitent, to the Sire de Coucy." - -"That alters the matter!" cried the knight.--"That alters the matter! -Take thy sand to the castle, good friend.--Hugo, ride with all speed -to Vernon. Bring me all the armourers of the town, with all the arms -they have ready. Send a serf to Gisors on the same errand. A thousand -marks of silver! By the Lord that lives! I will equip an army!" - - - - -CHAPTER IV. - - -The night was dark and gloomy. A thousand black clouds were flitting -over the sky, borne by a quick rough breeze, which ever and anon, with -wild caprice, would scatter them abroad, leaving the yellow moonlight -to shine bright upon their white edges, and pour a flood of mellow -radiance on the world below, and then again would whirl some deep -shadowy mass up from the profound verge of the horizon, and once more -overwhelm all in gloom and obscurity. - -Amidst such occasional glimpses of moonlight, struggled on from the -village of Vincennes, through the great forest of St. Mandé, a stout, -short man, wrapped in an immense cloak, and preceded by a boy holding -a torch, which the high wind threatened every moment to extinguish. - -"Art thou sure thou knowest the way, urchin?" cried the man, in a -wearied and panting tone, which argued plainly enough that his -corpulency loved not deeply the species of stumbling locomotion, to -which his legs subjected his paunch, amidst the roots and stones of -the forest path.--"Art thou sure that thou knowest the road?--Jesu -preserve me! I would not lose my way here, to be called to the -conclave!" - -"Oh, I know the way well!" replied the boy, in a shrill treble. "I -come here every day to ask the prayers of the holy hermit for my -grandmother, who is ninety years of age, and sick of a hydropsy." - -"Better pray God to take her, rather than to leave her!" replied his -companion. "'Tis a foolish errand mine,--'tis a foolish errand!" he -continued, speaking peevishly to himself, as he struggled to shake off -a pertinacious branch of withered thorn which, detached from its -parent bush, clung fondly to the tail of his robe, and trailed -solemnly on behind him. "Not the errand itself, which is holy, just, -and expedient; but the coming at night.--Take care, urchin! The wind -will blow it out, if you flaunt it after such a fashion. The coming at -night! Yet what could I do? The canon of St. Berthe's said true--that -if I came in the day, folks would say I could not govern my diocese -myself. I told you so, foolish child! I told you so! Now, what are we -to do?" continued he, raising his voice to the very highest pitch of -dismay and crossness, as a sharp gust of wind, up one of the long -glades, extinguished completely the flame of the torch, which had for -some time been wavering with a very undecided sort of flicker:--"now, -what are we to do?" - -"Oh, I know the way, as well without the light as with," replied the -same childish voice: "I'll lead you right, beau sire." - -"Ay, ay, child," said the other; "but I love not forests in the -dark:--this one has a bad name too--'tis said more sorts of evil -spirits than one haunt it. The Lord be merciful unto us! The devil is -powerful in these hours of darkness! And besides, there are other -dangers--" Here he stumbled over one of the large roots of an elm, shot -across the path, and would doubtless have fallen at full length, had -not his little guide's shoulder come opportunely in the way of his -hand, as it sprawled forth in the act of descent, and thus afforded -him some stay!--"Cursed be the root!" cried he;--"cursed be it, above -the earth and under the earth!--cursed be it in this life, and to all -eternity! Amen.--Lord have mercy upon me! Sinner that I am! I am -repeating the anathema. It will never go out of my head, that -anathema--cursed be it!--Boy, is it far off still?--Did not you hear a -noise?" he added suddenly. - -"I hear the rustling of the wind," replied the child, "but nothing -more. You folks that do not live near the forests do not know what -sounds it makes sometimes." - -"Evil spirits, boy!--evil spirits!" cried the man. "Evil spirits, I -tell thee, screaming in their malice; but I vow I hear a rushing, as -if there were some wild beasts.--Hark! hark!" and he grasped the boy's -arm, looking round and round in the darkness, which his fancy filled -with all the wild creation of fear. - -"Ne in furore tuo arguas me, Domine, neque in irâ tuâ corripias me. -Miserere mei, Domine, quoniam infirmus sum!" cried the frightened -traveller; when suddenly the clouds rolled white away from the face of -the moon, and her beams for a moment, streaming down clear upon them, -showed the wide open glade of the wood, untenanted by any one but -themselves, with the old ruined tomb in the forest, and the rude hut -of Bernard the hermit, "Kyrie eleïson! Christe eleïson!" cried the -traveller, at the sight of these blessed rays; and running forward to -reach the dwelling of the hermit, before the clouds again brought -darkness over the face of the earth, he arrived, all breathless and -panting, and struck hard with his fist against the closed door. "Open, -open! brother Bernard! and let me in," he cried loudly. "Let me in, -before the moon goes behind the cloud again." - -"Who art thou, who breakest through my prayers?" cried the voice of -the hermit. "And why fearest thou the going of the moon? Thou wilt not -be one jot wiser when she is gone?" - -"Nay! 'tis I, brother Bernard," replied the traveller, fretting with -impatience to get in. "'Tis I, I tell thee, man! Thy friend and -fellow-labourer in this poor vineyard of France!" - -"I have no friend but the Lord, and his holy saints," said the hermit, -opening the door.--"But how is this, lord bishop? - -"Hush! hush!" cried the other, holding up his hand. "Do not let the -boy hear thee!--I come in secret, upon matters of deep import." - -"Does not the text say, '_That which thou doest in secret shall be -proclaimed openly?_'" demanded the hermit.--"But what dost thou mean -to do with the boy?" continued he, laying his hand on the child's -head. "If he be as terrified as thou seemest to be, he will not love -to stay till thine errand with me is done." - -"Oh, I fear not, father," said the youth. "I am forest bred; and -nothing evil would come within sight of thy dwelling." - -"Well, poor lad!" said the hermit. "Sit there by the door; and if -aught scares thee, push it open, and come in." - -The boy accordingly seated himself by the door, which was shut upon -him; and the hermit pointed to a place on his bed of straw and moss -for the bishop's seat. If it had any distinction, 'twas solely that of -being situated beneath the crucifix, under which a small lamp was -burning, giving the only light which the cell possessed. - -The good prelate--for such he was--cast himself upon the moss, and -stretching forth his hands on his broad fat knees, employed no -inconsiderable space of time in cooling himself, and recovering his -breath, after the bodily fear and exertion he had undergone. The -hermit seated himself also; and waited, in grave silence, the -communication, whatever it was, that brought so respectable a -dignitary of the church as the bishop of Paris to his cell at so -unsuitable an hour. - -"The Lord be merciful unto me!" cried the bishop, after a long pause. -"What perils and dangers have I not run this very night, for the -service of the church, and the poor Christian souls of the French -people, who are now crying for the rites and ceremonies of the church, -as the tribes of Israel cried for flesh in the desert!" - -"But if report speaks right," replied the hermit, "thy flock has no -need to cry; as the interdict has not yet been enforced within thy -diocese, father bishop." - -"True! unhappily too true!" cried the prelate, imagining that the -hermit imputed blame to him for the delay. "But what could I do, -brother Bernard? God knows--praised be his name!--that I have the -most holy and devout fear of the authority of the blessed church of -Rome;--but how can I bear to tear the food of salvation from the -mouths of the poor hungry people?--Besides, when I did but mention it -to the king, he cried out, in his rude and furious way:--'By the -joyeuse of St. Charlemagne! bishop, take care what you do! As long as -you eat of the fat, and drink of the strong, you prelates of France -mind nothing; but let me hear no more of this interdict, or I will -smite you hip and thigh! I will drive you forth from your benefices! -I will deprive you of your feofs, and I will strip you of your -wealth!--and then you may get rosy wines and rich meats where you -can!" - -A sort of cynical smile gathered round the hermit's lip, as if in his -heart he thought Philip's estimate of the clergy of his day was not a -bad one: and indeed their scandalous luxury was but too fertile a -theme of censure to all the severer moralists of those times. He -contented himself, however, with demanding what the prelate intended -to do. - -"Nay, on that subject, I came to consult you, brother Bernard," -replied the bishop. "You have ever shown yourself a wise and prudent -man, since you came into this place, some seven years ago; and all you -have recommended has prospered.--Now, in truth, I know not what to do. -The king is furious. His love for this Agnes--(if God would but please -to take her to himself, what a blessing!)--is growing more and more. -He has already cast out half the bishops of France for enforcing the -interdict, and seized on the lands of many of the barons who have -permitted or encouraged it.--What can I do? If I enforce it, he will -cast me out too; and the people will be no better. If I do not enforce -it, I fall under the heavy censure of our holy father the pope!" - -"You know your duty, father bishop, far better than I can tell it to -you," replied the hermit, with what might almost be called a malicious -determination to give no assistance whatever to the poor prelate, who, -between his fears of Rome and his dread of losing his diocese, -laboured like a ship in a stormy sea. "Your duty must be done." - -"But hearken, brother Bernard," said the bishop. "You know John of -Arville, the canon of St. Berthe's--a keen, keen man, though he be so -quiet and calm, and one that knows every thing which passes in the -world, though he be so devout and strict in his religious exercises." - -"I know him well," said the hermit sternly, as if the qualities of the -worthy canon stood not high in his esteem.--"What of him?" - -"Why, you know that, now William of Albert is dead, this John is head -of the canons of St. Berthe," replied the bishop. "Now, you must know -still farther, that a few days ago, the young count d'Auvergne, with -his train, came to Paris, and was hospitably received by the canons of -St. Berthe, in whose church his father had been a great founder. As -the interdict is strictly kept in his own part of the country, the -Count could not confess himself there; but, wisely and religiously, -seeing that years might elapse before he could again receive the -comforts of the church if the interdict lasted, and not knowing what -might happen in the mean time--for life is frail, you know, brother -Bernard--he resolved to confess himself to John of Arville, the canon; -which he did. So, then, you see, John of Arville came away to me, and -told me that he had a great secret, which might heal all the wounds of -the state." - -"How!" exclaimed the hermit, starting up. "Did he betray the secrets -of confession?" - -"No, no! You mistake, brother Bernard," cried the bishop peevishly. -"No, no! He did not betray the secrets of confession; but, in his -conversations afterwards with the young count, he drew from him that -he loved this Agnes de Meranie, and that she had been promised to him -by her brother as he went to the Holy Land; and that her brother being -killed there, and her father knowing nothing of the promise, gave her -to the king Philip. But now, hearing that the marriage is not lawful, -he--her father, the duke of Istria--has charged this young Count -d'Auvergne, as a knight, and one who was her dead brother's dear -friend, secretly to command her, in his name, to quit the court of -France, and return to his protection: and the count has thereon staked -life and fortune, that if she will consent, he will find means to -bring her back to Istria, in despite of the whole world. This is what -he communicated to the reverend canon, not, as you say, in confession, -but in sundry conversations after confession." - -Bernard the hermit gave no thought to what, in our eyes, may appear a -strange commission for a parent like the duke of Istria to confide to -so young a man as the Count d'Auvergne. But in those days, we must -remember, such things were nothing strange; for knightly honour had as -yet been so rarely violated, that to doubt it for an instant, under -such a mark of confidence, would have then been considered as a proof -of a base and dishonourable heart. The hermit's mind, therefore, -turned alone to the conduct of the priest. - -"I understand," replied he, drawing his brows together, even more -sternly than he had heretofore done. "The reverend canon of St. -Berthe's claims kindred in an equal degree with the fox and the wolf. -He has taken care that the count's secrets, first communicated to him -in confession, should be afterwards repeated to him without such a -seal. Thinks he, I wonder, to juggle Heaven, as well as man, with the -letter instead of the spirit? And doubtless, now, he would gladly give -the Count d'Auvergne all easy access to persuade this unhappy girl to -return; so that he, the canon of St. Berthe's, may but save his -diocesan from the unwieldly burden of the interdict, at the expense of -a civil war between the powerful Count d'Auvergne and his liege lord -Philip. 'Tis a goodly scheme, good father bishop; but 'twill not -succeed. Agnes loves Philip--looks on him as her husband--refuses to -part from him--has the spirit of a hero in a woman's bosom, and may as -soon be moved by such futile plans, as the north star by the singing -of the nightingale." - -"See what it is to be a wise man!" said the bishop, unable to restrain -a little triumphant chuckle, at having got the hermit at fault.--"See -what it is to be a wise man, and not hear a simple story out! Besides, -good brother Bernard, you speak but uncharitably of the reverend canon -of St. Berthe's, who is a holy and religious man; though, like you -yourself, somewhat too proud of worldly wisdom--a-hem!" - -"A-hem!" echoed something near; at least, so it seemed to the quick -and timorous ears of the worthy prelate, who started up and listened. -"Did you not hear something, brother Bernard?" demanded he in a low -voice. "Did you not hear a noise? Cursed be it upon the earth! -and--God forgive me----" - -"I heard the roaring of the wind, and the creaking of the wood, but -nothing else," replied the hermit calmly, "But what wert thou about to -say, father bishop? If I have taken thee up wrongly, I am ready to -acknowledge my folly. All men are but as fools, and I not amongst the -least. If I have wronged the canon of St. Berthe's, I am ready to -acknowledge the fault. All men are sinners, and I not amongst the -least. But how have I been mistaken at present? - -"Why, altogether!" replied the prelate, after having re-assured -himself by listening several moments without hearing any farther -sound,--"altogether, brother Bernard, the canon of St. Berthe's aims -at nothing you have mentioned. No one knows better than he the queen's -mind as he is her confessor; and he sees well, that till the king -shows some sign of willingness to part with her, she will remain fixed -to him, as if she were part of himself: but he knows, too, that if -Philip does but evince the least coldness--the least slackening of the -bonds that bind him to her, she will think he wearies of his -constancy, or fears the consequences of his opposition to the holy -church; and will herself demand to quit him. His scheme therefore is, -to let the king grow jealous of the Count d'Auvergne to such a point, -as to show some chilliness to the queen. Agnes herself will think that -he repents of his opposition to our blessed father the pope, and will -propose to depart. Philip's jealousy will prevent him from saying nay; -and the reverend canon himself, as her confessor, will conduct her -with a sufficient escort to the court of Istria: where, please God! he -may be rewarded as he deserves, for the signal service he renders -France!" - -"Hoo! hoo! hoo!" cried a voice from without; which sounded through the -unglazed window, as if it was in the very hut. - -"Miserere mei, Domine, secundum multitudinem miserationem tuarum!" -exclaimed the bishop; the rosy hue of his cheek, which had returned, -in the security of the hermit's cell, to much the colour of the field -pimpernel, now fading away to the hue of the same flower in an ancient -herbal. - -"'Tis but an owl!--'tis but an owl!" cried the hermit; and, fixing his -eyes on the ground, he meditated deeply for several minutes, -regardless of the still unsubdued terror of the bishop, who, drawing a -chaplet from beneath his robe, filled up the pause with _paters_ and -_aves_, strangely mixed with various ungodly curses from the -never-forgotten anathema, which in his fright, like prisoners in a -popular tumult, rushed forth against his will the moment fear unbarred -the door of his lips. - -"It is a cruel scheme!" said the hermit at length, "and the man who -framed it is a cruel man; who, for his own base ambition of gaining -bishoprics in Germany and credit at Rome, scruples not to tear asunder -the dearest ties of the heart;--but for you or me, father bishop," he -added, turning more immediately to the prelate, "for you and me, who -have no other interest in this thing, than the general welfare of our -country, to prevent civil war and general rebellion of the king's -vassals, which will inevitably ensue if the interdict lasts, -especially while he bears so hard a hand upon them,--for us, I say, it -is to consider whether by the sorrow inflicted in this instance, -infinite, infinite misery may not be spared through the whole nation. -If you come then, father bishop, to ask me my opinion, I think the -scheme which this canon of St. Berthe's proposed may be made use -of--as an evil indeed--but as the least, infinitely the least, of two -great ones. I think, then, that it may conscientiously be made use of; -but, at the same time, I think the worse of the man that framed -it--ay! and he knew I should think the worse of him. - -"Why, indeed, and in truth, I believe he did," answered the bishop, -who had somewhat recovered his composure by the non-repetition of the -sounds, "I believe he did, for he mightily opposed my consulting you on -the matter; saying that--though all the world knows, brother Bernard, -you are a wise man, and a holy one too; for, indeed, none but a holy -man dare inhabit such a wild place, amidst all sorts of evil -spirits--cursed be they above the earth and under the earth!--but -saying--as I was going to observe--that if I were seen coming here, -people would think I knew not how to govern my own diocese, but must -needs have your help. So I came here at night, God forgive me and -protect me! for, if ever the sin of pride and false shame was -punished, and repented of with fear and trembling, it has been this -night." - -So frank a confession changed the cynical smile that was gathering -round the anchorite's lips into one of a blander character. "Your -coming in the day, good father bishop," replied he, "would have -honoured me, without disgracing you. The world would but have said, -that the holy bishop of Paris visited the poor hermit of Vincennes, to -consult with him for the people's good.--But let us to the question. -If you will follow my counsel, good father, you will lay this scheme -before that honoured and noble knight and reverend bishop, Guerin; -for, believe me, it will be necessary to keep a careful guard over -Philip, and to watch him well, lest, his passions being raised to a -dangerous degree, it become necessary to tell him suddenly the whole -truth. I am absent from him; you are busied with the cares of your -flock; and the canon of St. Berthe's must not be trusted. But Guerin -is always near him; and, with your holy zeal and his prudent watching, -this scheme, though it may tear the heart of the king and of the fair -unfortunate girl, Agnes his wife, may also save bloodshed, rebellion, -and civil war, and raise the interdict from this ill-fated kingdom." - -A loud scream, like that of some ravenous bird, but prolonged so that -it seemed as if no mortal breath could have given it utterance, -thrilled through the air as the hermit spoke, and vibrated round and -round the hut. The bishop sank on his knees, and his little guide -pushed open the door and ran in. "I dare stay out there no longer!" -cried the boy: "there is something in the tree!--there is something in -the tree!" - -"Where?" cried the hermit, striding towards the door, his worn and -emaciated figure erecting itself, and seeming to swell out with -new-born energy. "Where is this sight? Were it the prince of evil -himself, I defy him!"--and with a firm step, he advanced into the -moonlight, between the threshold of the hut and the ancient tomb, -casting his eyes up into the shattered oak, whose remaining branches -stretched wide and strong over the path. - -To his surprise, however, he beheld seated on one of the large boughs, -in the attitude of an ape, a dark figure, like that of a man; who no -sooner cast his eyes on the hermit, than he began to pour forth more -strange and detestable sounds than ever were uttered by a human -tongue, moving backwards along the branches at the same time with -superhuman agility. - -"Avoid thee, Satan! In the name of Jesus thy conqueror! avoid thee!" -cried the hermit, holding up the crucifix attached to his rosary. - -"Ha, ha! oh rare! The interdict, the interdict!" shouted the vision -gliding along amongst the branches. "Oh rare! oh rare!" And then burst -forth a wild scream of unnatural laughter, which for a moment rang -round and round, as if echoed by a thousand voices; then died away -fainter and fainter, and at last was lost entirely; while the dark -figure, from which it seemed to proceed, disappeared amidst the gloom -of the thick boughs and leaves. - -"Rise, rise, father bishop!" cried the hermit, entering the hut. "The -fiend is gone; and verily his coming, where he has never dared to come -before, seemed to show that he is fearful of your design, and would -fain scare us from endeavouring to raise the interdict:--rise, good -father, I say, and be not frightened from your endeavour!" So saying, -the hermit stooped and aided his reverend visiter; whom at his return -he had found stretched flat on his face, at the foot of the cross, -before which the anchorite's lamp was burning. - -"Now, Jesu preserve us! this is very dreadful, brother Bernard!" cried -the poor bishop, his teeth chattering in his head. "How you can endure -it, and go on living here, exposed to such attacks, I know not; but I -do know that one week of such residence would wear all the flesh off -my bones." - -The hermit glanced his eye, with somewhat of a cold smile, from the -round, well-covered limbs of the prelate, to his own meagre and sinewy -form. He made not, however, the comment that sprang to his lips, but -simply replied, "I am not often subject to such visitations, and, as -you see, the enemy flies from me when I appear." - -"But, for all that," answered the bishop, "I tell thee, good brother -Bernard, I dare as much go home through that forest alone with this -urchin, as I dare jump off the tower of the Louvre!" - -"Fear not: I will go with thee," replied the anchorite. "The boy, too, -has a torch, I see. The night is now clear, and the wind somewhat gone -down, so that the way will be soon trodden." - -Company of any kind, under such circumstances, would have been -received as a blessing by the good bishop; but that of so holy a man -as the hermit was reputed to be, was doubly a security. Clinging to -him, therefore, somewhat closer than bespoke much valour, the prelate -suffered himself to be led out into the forest; while the boy, with -his torch now lighted again, accompanied them, a little indeed in -advance, but not sufficiently so as to prevent him also from holding -tight by the anchorite's frock. - -Thus, then, they proceeded through the winding paths of the wood, now -in light, and now in shade, till the dark roofs of the village near -Vincennes, sleeping quietly in the moonshine, met once more the -delighted eyes of the bishop of Paris. Here the anchorite bade God -speed him, and, turning his steps back again, took the way to his hut. - -Did we say that the hermit, Bernard, did not every now and then give a -glance to the wood on either side as he passed, or that he did not -hold his crucifix in his hand, and, from time to time, murmur a prayer -to Heaven or his guardian angel, we should say what was false; but -still he walked on with a firm step, and a far more erect carriage -than usual, prepared to encounter the enemy of mankind, should he -appear in bodily shape, with all the courage of a Christian and the -zeal of an enthusiast. - -When he had reached his hut, however, and fastened the door, he cast -himself on his knees before the cross, and, folding his arms devoutly -on his bosom, he exclaimed:--"O, blessed Saviour! pardon if J have -sinned in the counsel I have this night given. Let not weakness of -understanding be attributed to me for wickedness of heart; but, as -thou seest that my whole desire is to serve Thee, and do good unto my -fellow-christians, grant, O Lord! pardon and remittance unto the -faults of my judgment! Nevertheless, if my counsel be evil, and thou -hast permitted thy conquered enemy to show himself unto me visibly, as -a sign of thy wrath, let me beseech thee. Lord! to turn that counsel -aside that it have no effect, and that the sorrow of my brethren lay. -not heavy on my head!" - -To this extempore prayer the good hermit added one or two from the -regular ritual of the church; and then, casting himself on his bed of -moss, with a calmed mind, he fell into a profound sleep. - -In the mean while, day broke upon the glades of the forest; and at -about the distance of a mile from the dwelling of the hermit, dropped -down from one of the old oaks, with the first ray of the sun, no less -a person than our friend Gallon the fool. - -"Ha, ha!" cried he, "Ha, ha, haw! My lord ordered me to be shut out, -if I came not home by dusk; and now, by my shutting out, I have heard -a secret he would give his ears to hear.--Ha, haw! Ha, haw!--I've -ninety-nine minds not to tell him--but it wants the hundredth. So I -will tell him. Then he'll break their plot, or give news of it to the -king and the Auvergne;--and then, they'll all be hanged up like -acorns.--Haw, haw! and we shall keep the sweet interdict--the dear -interdict--the beloved interdict. I saw five dead men lying unburied -in the convent field.--Haw, haw, haw! Haw, haw! I love the -interdict--I do! 'Tis like my nose: it mars the face of the country, -which otherwise were a fair face.--Ha, haw! I love interdicts. My nose -is my interdict.--Haw, haw, haw! But I must find other means to spite -the De Coucy, for shutting me out! I spited him finely, by sending -down the old fool Julian into the glade, where he was cajoling his -daughter!--Haw, haw, haw! Ha, haw!" So saying, he bounded forward, and -ran as hard as he could towards the distant city. - - - - -CHAPTER V. - - -Let us suppose a brief lapse of time and a slight change of scene. -'Twas the month of September; and though the mellow hand of autumn had -already spread a rich golden tinge over field and wood, yet not a -particle of summer's sparkling brilliancy seemed gone from the clear -blue sky. 'Twas in the bright land, too, of merry Touraine, where -migratory summer seems to linger longer than any where else; and, -though the sickle had done its work, and the brown plains told that -the year's prime was passed, yet there was a smile on the aspect of -the land, as if it would fain have promised that the sweet days of the -earth's life would be there immortal. - -Over one of the wide open fields of that country, swelling gently with -a soft undulating slope, and bordered, here and there, with low -scattered woods, were seen to ride a gay party of horsemen, but few in -number indeed, but with their arms glittering in the morning sun, -their plumes waving in the breeze, and, in short, with all "the pomp -and circumstance of war." - -In faith, it was as fair a sight to see as the world can give--a party -of the chivalry of that age. For them were all the richest habiliments -reserved by law. Robes of scarlet, ornaments of gold, fine furs, and -finer stuffs, were all theirs by right; and with their banners, and -pennons, and their polished armour, their embroidered coats of arms, -and their decorated horses, they formed a moving mass of animated -splendour, such as the present day cannot afford to show. - -The group we speak of at present wanted nothing that chivalry could -display. At its head rode a fair youth, just in man's opening day; his -eye sparkling, his cheek glowing, his lip smiling with the bursting -happiness of his heart, at finding himself freed from restraint. Lord -of himself, and entering on the brilliant career of arms, supported by -knights, by nobles, and by kings, to strive for--not the ordinary -stake of ordinary men--but for crowns, and thrones, and kingdoms. - -Arthur Plantagenet wore his helmet still; as if the new weight of -honourable armour was more a delight than a burthen to him; but the -visor being open, his face was clearly exposed, and spoke nothing but -hope and animation. His arms were all inlaid with gold, and over his -shoulders he wore the superb surcoat of arms, which had been worked -for him by the fair hands of Agnes de Meranie. - -On the prince's right-hand rode Guy de Coucy, with his head still -unarmed; and merely covered by a green velvet bonnet, with a jewel, -and a plume of the feathers of the white egret, which had been -bestowed upon him by the king on his joining the expedition at Paris. -Neither did he ride his battle-horse--which, as when we first saw him, -was led behind him by a squire--but was mounted on one of the Arabian -coursers which he had brought with him from the Holy Land. He had, -however, his tremendous long sword by his side, the tip descending to -his heel, and the hilt coming up nearly to his shoulder; and, though -at the bow of his war-saddle, on the other horse, hung his heavy -battle-axe and mace, a lighter axe swung by his side. His gauntlets -were on, his squires were close behind him; and by various other signs -of the same kind, it might be inferred that the road he was now -travelling was more likely to be hostilely interrupted, than that over -which he had passed in Auvergne. - -On Arthur's left-hand appeared in complete arms the famous warrior and -troubadour, whose songs and whose deeds have descended honourably even -to our days, Savary de Maulèon. As in the case of De Coucy, his casque -was borne behind him; but, in other respects, he was armed _cap à -pié_. - -Of this knight one thing must be remarked, which, though it might seem -strange, was no less true, and showed the madness of that age for -song. Between himself and the squires who bore his casque and led his -battle-horse, rode a tiny, beautiful boy, mounted on a small fleet -Limousin jennet, and habited with all the extravagant finery which -could be devised. In his hand, instead of shield, or lance, or -implement of bloody warfare, he bore a small sort of harp, exactly of -the shape of those with which the sculptors of that period have -represented King David, as well as sundry angels, in the rich -tympanums of many of the gothic church-doorways in France. This -instrument, however, was not fully displayed on the journey, being -covered with a _housse_, or veil of silver gauze, from which, such -coverings often being applied to shields of arms, any one passing by -might have mistaken it for some buckler of a new and strange form. - -Behind this first group, who were followed immediately by their -squires, came, at a little distance, a confused body of knights of -lesser fame; in general, vassals of Savary de Maulèon, or of his -friends; or others who, from disgust towards king John, had come over -to the increasing party of his nephew. These were all well armed and -equipped; and, though riding for the time in a scattered and irregular -manner, it wanted but a word from their chiefs, to bring them into -line, or hedge, as it was called, when, with their long lances, heavy -armed horses, and impenetrable persons, they would have offered a -formidable barrier against any attack. - -A group of servants of arms followed these knights; and behind these -again, with far more show of discipline, and covered with bright new -armour, came two hundred Brabançois, with their old captain, Jodelle, -at their head. Their horses were unarmed, except by an iron poitral, -to resist the blow of a lance or a sword on the first assault. The -riders also were but lightly harnessed, with cuirass, steel cap, -and buckler; but, being intended principally to act either as -horse-archers themselves, or against bodies of foot, they often proved -the most serviceable troops in the army. - -At the head of their line rode Hugo de Barre, bearing De Coucy's -banner; while, armed something like a Brabançois, but more heavily, -with the place of his favourite mare supplied by a strong black horse. -Gallon the fool rode along the ranks, keeping the greater part of the -soldiers in continual merriment. There were, it is true, some ten or -twelve of them who knit their brows from under their iron caps at the -jongleur as he passed; but the generality of the Brabançois laughed at -his jest, or gave it him back again; and, indeed, no one seemed more -amused or in better harmony with the mad juggler, than the captain -Jodelle himself. - -The whole party might consist of about five hundred men; and they -moved on slowly, as if not very certain whether they might not be near -some unseen enemy. The plain on which we have said they were, was -unbroken by any thing in the shape of a hedge, and sufficiently flat -to give a view over its whole surface; but, at the same time, the low -woods that bordered it here and there might have concealed many -thousand men, and the very evenness of the country prevented any view -of what was beyond. - -"Straight before you, beau sire!" said Savary de Maulèon, pointing -forward with his hand. "At the distance of three hours' march, lies -the famous city of Tours; and even now, if you look beyond that wood, -you will catch a faint glance of the church of the blessed St. Martin. -See you not a dark grey mass against the sky, squarer and more stiff -in form than any of the trees?" - -"I do, I do!--And is that Tours?" cried Arthur, each fresh object -awakening in his heart that unaccountable delight with which youth -thrills towards novelty--that dear brightness of the mind which, in -our young days, reflects all things presented to it with a thousand -splendid dazzling rays not their own; but, alas! which too soon gets -dimmed and dull, in the vile chafing and rubbing of the world. "Is -that Tours?" and his fancy instantly conjured up, and combined with -the image of the distant city, a bright whirl of vague and pleasant -expectations which, like a child's top, kept dizzily spinning before -his eyes, based on an invisible point, and ready to fall on a touch. - -"That is Tours, beau sire," replied the knight; "and I doubt not that -there, what with all my fair countrymen of Anjou and Poitou, who have -already promised their presence, and others who may have come without -their promise, you will find knights enough for you to undertake at -once some bold enterprise." - -Arthur looked to De Coucy, under whose tutelage, as a warrior, Philip -Augustus had in some degree placed the inexperienced prince. "Far be -it from me," said the knight, "to oppose any bold measure that has the -probability of success along with it; but, as a general principle, I -think that in a war which is likely to be of long duration, when we -expect the speedy arrival of strong reinforcements, and where nothing -is to be lost by some delay, it is wise to pause, so as to strike the -first strokes with certainty of success; especially where the prince's -person may be put in danger by any rash attempt." - -"By the blessed St. Martin!" cried Savary de Maulèon, "I thought not -to hear the Sire de Coucy recommend timid delay. Fame has, as usual, -belied him, when she spoke of his courage as somewhat rash." - -De Coucy had, indeed, spoken rather in opposition to the general -character of his own mind; but he felt that there was a degree of -responsibility attached to his situation, which required the greatest -caution, to guard against the natural daring of his disposition. He -maintained, therefore, the same coolness in reply to the Poitevin -knight, although it cost him some effort to repress the same spirit -manifesting itself in his language which glowed warm on his brow. - -"Sir Guillaume Savary de Maulèon," replied he, "in the present -instance, my counsel to prince Arthur shall be to attempt nothing, -till he has such forces as shall render those first attempts certain; -and, as to myself, I can but say, that when you and I are in the -battle-field, my banner shall go as far, at least, as yours into the -midst of the enemies." - -"Not a step farther!" said Savary de Maulèon quickly--"not a step -farther!" - -"That shall be as God pleases," answered De Coucy; "but, in the mean -time, we are disputing about wind. Till we reach Tours, we cannot at -all tell what assistance may wait us there. If there be sufficient -force to justify us in proceeding to action, I will by no means -dissent; but, if there be but few of our friends arrived, I will say, -that man who advises the prince to attempt any thing yet, may be as -brave as a lion, but seeks to serve his own vanity more than Arthur -Plantagenet." - -"How his own vanity, sir?" demanded Savary de Maulèon, ready to take -offence on the slightest provocation. - -"By risking his prince's fortunes," replied De Coucy, "rather than let -others have a share in the harvest of glory before him. Ho, there!" he -continued, turning to one of his squires, who instantly rode up.--"Bid -Jodelle detach a score of his lightest men round the eastern limb of -that wood, and bring me word what 'tis that glittered but now above -the trees.--Go yourself too, and use your eyes." - -The man obeyed, with the promptitude of one accustomed to serve a -quick and imperative lord; and the little man[oe]uvre the knight had -commanded was performed with all the precision he could desire. In the -mean while he resumed the conversation with Arthur and Savary de -Maulèon, who--cooled by the momentary pause, and also somewhat soothed -by something flattering, he scarce knew what, in the idea of the sort -of avarice of glory De Coucy had attributed to him--replied to the -young knight with more cordiality than he had at first evinced. In a -very few minutes, the horsemen, who had been detached, returned at -full gallop. Their report was somewhat startling. A large body of -horse, they said, whose spear-heads De Coucy had seen above the low -trees, were skirting slowly round the wood towards them. Full a -hundred knights, with barbed horses and party pennons, had been seen. -There appeared more behind; and the whole body, with the squires, -archers, and servants of arms, might amount to fifteen hundred. No -banner, however, was displayed; but one of the Brabançois declared, -that he knew the foremost to be king John's Norman knights, by the -fashion of their hauberts, and the pikes on their horses' heads. - -"Give me my lance and casque!" cried De Coucy.--"Sir Savary de -Maulèon, I leave the prince under your care, while I, with my -Brabançois and followers, give these gentry the meeting at the corner -of the wood. You would not be mad enough in this business to risk the -prince with four hundred men and forty knights, against one hundred -knights and fifteen hundred men!" - -"Surely not," replied Savary de Maulèon; "but still I will go with you -myself, beau sire." - -"No! as you are a knight," cried De Coucy, grasping his hand, "I -charge you, stay with the prince, cover his march to Tours; keep all -the knights with you, for you will want them all. You start fair with -the enemy--the distance is about equal to the city; and I promise you, -that if they pass yon turn of the wood within this quarter of an hour, -'tis over my dead body--let it be so, sir knight, in God's name! The -honour will rest with him who gets the prince safe to Tours. Is not -that enough? You have the post of honour." - -"And you the post of danger," said Savary de Mauléon, shaking his -head. - -"Mind not you that!" cried De Coucy, whose casque was by this time -fixed. "If these be Normans, there will be danger and honour enough -too, before you reach Tours!" and grasping his lance, he fell back to -the band of Brabançois, put himself at their head, and galloped at -full speed to the turning of the wood. - -Before coming in sight of the enemy, however, De Coucy paused, and -advancing so far alone as to gain a sight of them, he perceived that -their numbers, though they had been somewhat exaggerated, were still -too great to admit the chance of fighting them with any hope of -success. His object, therefore, was to delay them on their march as -long as he could; and then to retreat fighting, so as to cover the -prince's march upon Tours. Accordingly he commanded the cotereaux to -spread out in such a manner that the iron of their spears might just -be seen protruding from the wood, and by patting his horse's neck, and -touching him with the spur, he made him utter one or two loud neighs, -for the purpose of calling the attention of the enemy, which the sound -of their galloping thither did not seem to have done. - -The stratagem had its effect: the whole body of horse, who were -approaching, halted; and after a few minutes' consultation, a -reconnoitring party was thrown out, who approached in front of De -Coucys party, and fell back again instantly on their main body. -"Ground your spears!" cried De Coucy; "unsling your bows; have each -man his arrow on the string, and the string to his ear; and give them -such a flight as shall dizzy them whenever they come near." - -The Brabançois obeyed: each man rested his spear,--which, by the way, -was distinguished in many respects from the knight's lance,--threw his -bridle over his arm, and drew his bowstring to his ear; while De Coucy -advanced a few paces, to observe the motions of the enemy. To his -surprise, however, he observed half a dozen knights ride out, while -the rest stood still; and in a moment after, displaying the banner of -Hugues de Lusignan, they advanced at full speed, crying loudly, "Artus -Anjou! Artus Anjou!"--the rallying cry which the knights of Anjou -attached to the party of Arthur had adopted. - -"Hold! hold!" cried De Coucy, waving his hand to his archers. "Here -must be some mistake. These are friends." So, indeed, it proved; and on -a nearer approach, De Coucy found that the body of troops which had -caused the alarm, had in truth come forth from Tours, for the -protection of Arthur, whom they had long known to be approaching with -but a small force; while king John, with a considerable army, was -reported to be ravaging the county of Maine. The cause of the mistake -also was now explained. Some knights of Normandy, either moved by the -justice of Arthur's claims, or disgusted with the weak levity and -cowardly baseness of John, had crossed the country; and joining the -troops of Hugues le Brun, and Godefroy de Lusignan, under the command -of Ruoal d'Issoudun, Count d'Eu, had come out to give the sovereign -they had determined to acknowledge welcome and protection. - -These communications were much sooner made than they are written; and -De Coucy, whose banner had been seen and recognised by the -reconnoitring party, was received by the assembled knights with no -small marks of honour and esteem. His troops had of course now to make -a retrograde motion, but no great haste was necessary to overtake the -body he had before left; for Savary de Mauléon had taken such good -care that his retreat should not appear like a flight, that the -messenger to De Coucy despatched to inform him of the change of aspect -which affairs had undergone, reached the small body of knights who had -remained with Arthur before they had proceeded half a mile. - -The meeting of the two bands was a joyous one on both sides, and -nothing was now talked of amongst the knights of Anjou and Poitou but -proceeding instantly to active and energetic operations against the -enemy. De Coucy was silent, well knowing that a council must be held -on the subject after their arrival at Tours; and reserving his opinion -for that occasion, though he well saw that his single voice would be -drowned amidst the many, which were all eager to urge a course that, -under any other circumstances, he would have been the first to follow, -but which, where the stake was a kingdom, and the hazard great, he did -not feel himself justified in approving. - -While things were thus proceeding, in front of the army, the -Brabançois, who now occupied a much less important station than when -they formed, as it were, the main body of the prince's force, followed -at some little distance in the rear. A few steps in advance of this -troop rode Jodelle, particularly affecting to have no private -communication with his men; but, on the contrary, sometimes riding up -to Hugo de Barre, who bore De Coucys standard on the right, and with -whom he had become a great favourite; and sometimes jesting with -Gallon the fool, whose regard he strove not a little to cultivate, -though it was not less difficult to ascertain exactly which way the -cracked juggler's esteem turned, than it was to win his affection at -all, which was no easy task. - -"Ha, ha! sire Jodelle!" cried Gallon, coming close to him, as they -began to move forward towards Tours--"Haw, haw! A goodly body of -prisoners our lord has taken to-day!" and he pointed to the band of -knights which had so lately joined their own. "And yet," added Gallon, -bringing his two eyes to bear with a sly leer upon Jodelle's face, -"our lord does not often make prisoners. He contents himself with -dashing his foemen's brains out with his battle-axe, as he did in -Auvergne." - -Jodelle grasped his sword, and muttered something to himself. Gallon's -eyes, however, were like the orbs in an orrery, for an instant close -together, and then, by some unapparent machinery, thrown far apart; -and before Jodelle could determine what their first expression meant, -they were straggling out again on each side of the head in which they -were placed, and the shrewd meaning leer was changed at once into the -most broad senseless vacancy. - -"Oh! it would have done your heart good, sire Jodelle," continued -the jongleur, "to see how he hewed their noddles.--Haw, haw! Oh, -rare!--But, as I was saying," continued he, in his flighty, rambling -way, "yours must be a merry trade, and a thriving." - -"Ours is no trade, maître Gallon," replied Jodelle, speaking calmly, -to conceal no very amicable sensations which he felt towards the -jongleur--"ours is no trade; 'tis a profession,--the noble profession -of arms." - -"No trade!" exclaimed Gallon.--"Haw, haw! Haw, haw! If you make no -trade of it, with such merchandise as you have, you are not fit to -hold a sow by the ear, or soap a cat's tail. Why! Do you not buy and -sell?" - -"Buy and sell!" said Jodelle, pondering. "Faith! I am heavy this -morning. What should I buy or sell, either?" - -"Lord now! Lord now!" cried Gallon, holding up both his hands. "To -think that there is another man in all the world so stupid as my -master and myself!--What should you buy and sell? Why, what better -merchandise would you desire to sell to King John," he added, making -his horse sidle up against the chief of the Brabançois, so that he -could speak without being overheard by any one else,--"what better -merchandise would you desire to sell to king John, than that fat flock -of sheep before you, with the young ram, and his golden fleece, at the -head of them;--and what would you desire better to buy, than white -English silver, and yellow English gold?" - -Jodelle looked in his face, to see if he could gather any thing from -that; but all was one flat, dead blank; even his very nose was still -and meaningless--one might as well have expected such words of -devilish cunning from a stone wall. - -"But my oath--my honour!" cried Jodelle, gazing on him still. - -"Your oath!--Haw, haw!" shouted Gallon, convulsed with -laughter,--"your honour!--Haw, haw! haw, haw! haw, haw!" And rolling -about, as if he would have fallen from his horse, he galloped on, -shouting, and roaring, and laughing, and screaming, till there was not -a man in the array who did not turn his head to look at the strange -being who dared to interrupt with such obstreperous merriment their -leader's conversation. - -De Coucy well knew the sounds, and turned to chide; but Arthur, who -had been before amused with Gallon's humour, called him to approach -for the purpose of jesting with him, with that boyish susceptibility -of absurdities which characterised the age. - -Gallon was as much at his ease amongst princes and barons as amongst -peasants and serving men; and, seeming to forget all that he had just -been speaking of, he dashed off into some new strain of eccentricity -better suited to his auditors. - -Jodelle, who, trembling for the result, had so far forgot himself as -to ride on to listen, now rendered secure by the juggler's flighty -change of topic, dropped back into the rear, and the whole cavalcade -moved gently on to Tours. - -While preparing for the prince's banquet in the evening, the place at -De Coucy's elbow was filled by Gallon the fool, who somewhat in a more -sane and placable humour than usual, amused his lord with various -tales and anecdotes, neither so disjointed nor so disfigured as his -relations usually were. The last, however, which he thought fit to -tell--what he had overheard through the unglazed window of the -hermit's cell on the night before the party of Arthur quitted Paris, -caused De Coucy instantly to write a few words to the Count -d'Auvergne, and putting it in the hands of his page, he bade him ride -for his life, and deliver the letter wherever he should find the -count, were it even in the presence of the king himself. The fatigued -state of the horses prevented the lad from setting out that night, but -by daylight next morning he was in the saddle, and away upon a journey -which we may have cause to trace more particularly hereafter. - - - - -CHAPTER VI. - - -After a long consultation with De Coucy, the morning following their -arrival at Tours, Arthur Plantagenet proceeded to hold his first -regular council of war. Endowed with a thousand graces of person and -of mind, Arthur had still that youthful indecision of character, that -facility of yielding, which leads the lad so often to do what the man -afterwards bitterly repents of. - -Arthur entered the council room of the bishop's palace at Tours, fully -determined to adhere to the more prudent plan of waiting for the large -reinforcements he expected. He took his seat with the proud dignity of -a Plantagenet: and though his youthful countenance was in feature and -in complexion almost feminine, and his brows were only ornamented with -the ducal coronet of Brittany, still, in port and expression, he was -every inch a king. There was a dead silence amongst the knights for a -moment or two after he had entered, while Arthur spoke a few words to -the bishop of Tours, who stood on the right hand of the large throne -or chair, in which he was seated. The prince then turned towards the -council; and, with somewhat of a heightened colour, but with a clear -tone and unembarrassed manner, he spoke. - -"Illustrious lords," he said, "whose valour and wisdom have gained -Poitou and Anjou a name with the whole world; as your inferior, both -in age and reason, in warlike experience and in prudent sagacity, I -come to you for advice and counsel, how to carry forward the great -enterprise I have undertaken. We are here, not much above an hundred -knights; and our whole forces do not amount to two thousand men; while -John, my usurping uncle, is within a few days' march, with ten times -our number of men, and full two thousand valiant and renowned knights. -To balance this disparity, however, king Philip, my noble and -bountiful godfather in arms, has given me, for my auxiliaries and -allies, Hervey de Donzy, Count de Nevers, surnamed the Blunt, the -valiant Hugues de Dampierre, with all the knights of Berri, and Imbert -Baron de Beaujeur, with many a noble baron from the other side of the -Loire. These knights arrive to-day at Orleans, and in three days will -be here. At the same time, my duchy of Brittany, so faithful to me in -all times, sends me five hundred valiant knights, and four thousand -men at arms, who to-morrow at the latest will be at Nantes. It seems -to me, therefore, the wisest plan we can pursue--if you, whose wisdom -and experience are greater than mine, do not think otherwise--to -remain here at least four days. Often, a short delay produces the -greatest benefit; and a wise man of antiquity has said, that it is not -the evils which happen that we should struggle to avoid, but those -that may happen. Let us also remember, that--though, Heaven knows! no -one, or old or young, shall in open warfare more expose their person -than I will do; or less cares for life than I do, if it be not life -with honour;--but still let us remember, that it is my person alone my -uncle seeks, because I demand my kingdom, and the freedom of my -imprisoned sister.[20] You all know his cruelty, and I call Heaven to -witness, that I would rather now each man here should sheathe his -dagger in my body, than suffer me to fall into the hands of my bloody -and unnatural relation. - - --------------------- - -[Footnote 20: Eleanor Plantagenet, who was detained till her death, to -cut off all change of subsequent heirs in the line of Geoffrey -Plantagenet, John's elder brother.] - --------------------- - - -"By letters received last night from the good king Philip I am informed -that John has just seized upon the citadel of Dol, the garrison of -which he has put to death after their surrender, the soldiers by the -sword, the knights he has crucified. The king also assures me, that -the usurper is marching hitherward, with all haste; and farther -counsels me, to conduct myself with prudence rather than rashness; and -to wait the arrival of the reinforcements, which will give me a -disposable force of fifteen hundred knights and thirty thousand men." - -Arthur paused; and Savary de Maulèon instantly replied:--"Let not the -counsels of any one alarm you, beau sire. To cowards be delay; to men -of courage, action. John is marching towards us. Let him come; we -shall be glad to see him for once show a spark of valour. No, no, beau -sire, he will not come. Does he not always fly from the face of arms? -He is a coward himself, and the spirit of the prince spreads always -through the army. For us, be quick and decided action; and, before -this weak and treacherous usurper shall know, even, that we are in the -field, let us strike some blow, that shall carry panic to his fearful -heart. His bad and wicked mother, Eleanor of Aquitaine, is even now -shut up in the town and castle of Mirebeau. The garrison is not large, -though commanded by William Longsword, earl of Salisbury. Let us -hasten thither instantly, besiege the castle; and, before John shall -have notice of our movements, his mother, the instigator and abettor -of one half his wickedness, shall be in our power. Or even say that -the castle holds out, our reinforcements may join us there, as well as -here, and then success is certain." - -The multitude of voices that applauded this proposal drowned all -opposition; and though De Coucy pressed but for the delay of a day, to -wait the arrival of his own forces, levied in the king's name on the -lands of the Count de Tankerville, and which alone would have doubled -their present numbers, both of knights and of servants of arms, his -proposition was negatived. Arthur yielded to the current; and, -catching the ardour of the Poitevins, his eyes sparkled at the idea of -surprising Mirebeau, and holding captive that bad queen, who had been -the incessant persecutor of his mother, and had acted but the part of -a step-dame, even to her own son, his father. - -De Coucy saw that farther opposition was vain, and bent the whole -energies of his mind to ensure success, even to the scheme he had -disapproved. - -The knights and barons of Poitou had reasonably enough wondered to see -a young warrior, whose greatest fame had been gained by the very -rashness of his courage, become the counsellor of caution and delay; -but De Coucy was rash only of his own person, holding that a knight -ought never even to consider his own individual life, or that of his -followers; but should give the whole thought and prudence which he -abstracted from himself, to carry forward successfully the object of -his undertaking. - -He never once dreamed of personal danger; nor could he conceive the -idea of any man bestowing a thought upon the hazard to which any -enterprise exposed him: and thus, in contemplating an approaching -struggle, the whole powers of his mind were bent upon conquering his -enemies, and his care for himself was only as a means to that effect. - -If the wonder of the knights of Poitou had been excited by De Coucy's -former slowness in counselling enterprise, it was far, far more so to -behold his activity and energy now that action had really commenced. - -He became suddenly, as it were, the soul and spirit of their -enterprise: his eye was every where; his quick and capable mind seemed -continually acting on every side around them. Whatever tidings was -demanded of any part of their disjointed force, it was Sir Guy de -Coucy knew!--whatever information was required concerning the country -before them, De Coucy had already made himself master of it!--whatever -movement was to be made by any body of the troops, De Coucy saw it -done!--whatever provision was to be brought in for the supply of the -army, De Coucy assured himself that it was executed, as far as the -brief time permitted. He had recommended delay; but as action had been -decided upon, he put forth the whole energetic activity of his soul to -render action effective. - -Understanding thoroughly the character and application of all the -various classes of troops made use of in that day, De Coucy took care -that his Brabançois should be turned to that service for which they -were best calculated. As reconnoitring parties they were invaluable; -and, as the army advanced upon Mirebeau, by spreading them over the -face of the country, he gained information of every thing that was -passing around. - -Two messengers from Eleanor of Aquitaine to her son were thus -intercepted; and it was discovered from the letters they bare, that -she had already obtained knowledge of Arthur's movements, and -beseeched John to hasten to her relief; telling him, that though the -castle she held might be looked upon as nearly impregnable, yet the -suddenness of attack had prevented her from providing for the -garrison, sufficiently at least, for any long siege. - -Such news was not lost on De Coucy; and, employing his Brabançois as -marauders, in which point of duty they certainly did not fail, he -swept the whole country round about of every sort of provisions, both -to distress the enemy, and to supply his own troops. This service -became one of danger as they approached nearer to the town, the -parties of William Longsword being also scattered about on the same -errand; and the whole of the morning before their arrival was spent in -fierce and continual skirmishes,--now for a drove of bullocks,--now -for a cart of wine,--now for a load of wheat. - -At length, all the parties of Normans and English were driven within -the gates of the town; and the army of Arthur, sitting down before it, -invested it on all sides. - -We must remember, however, that what were called towns in those days -might consider it a high honour to be compared even to a small English -borough of the present times; so that it was no impossible thing for -an army of two thousand men to invest even a town and castle. - -A council of war was instantly held, and De Coucy's voice was no -longer for delay. Immediate attack of the town was his advice; and -though many observed that only four hours of daylight remained, he -still pressed his object, declaring that, if well seconded, he would -place his standard in the market-place before dark. Those who had -before reproached him with procrastination dared not oppose him now, -and orders were instantly issued for the attack of the walls. - -The whole space occupied by the houses of Mirebeau was encompassed by -a strong curtain of rough stone, flanked with tall round towers, at -the distance of an arrow's flight from each other; so that every part -of the wall, though unguarded by a ditch, could be defended, not only -from its own projecting battlements, but by the cross fire of missiles -from the towers. Both men and munition of war seemed plenty within; -for, on the first symptoms of a general attack, the walls became -thronged with slingers and bowmen; and numbers of labourers might be -seen lighting fires for boiling oil or water, or carrying up baskets -of heavy stones, logs of wood, and quantities of quick-lime, to cast -down upon the assailants' heads, and crush them, or blind them, if the -flights of arrows proved insufficient to keep them from the gates or -the foot of the wall. - -The defenders of the battlements, indeed, appeared to be principally -burghers, mingled with a small proportion of soldiers from the castle; -but, although the military citizen was but little esteemed in that -day, there was a degree of bustle and promptitude about those who -manned the wall of Mirebeau, which, at all events, indicated zeal in -its defence. - -The preparations on the part of the besiegers were not less active; -and Arthur did all that an inexperienced youth could do, to give unity -and consistence to the efforts of his undisciplined and insubordinate -forces. It must not, however, be thought that we would say the knights -who accompanied him were less regular and obedient than others of -their times and class. Far from it. But it must be remembered, that -discipline was almost unknown amongst the armies of chivalry, and that -the feudal system was felt as much, or more, in times of war, than in -times of peace. Each baron commanded the knights and men-at-arms he -brought into the field. It is true, he received himself commands from -the sovereign, or the person who represented him for the moment; but -whether he obeyed those commands or not, depended upon a thousand -circumstances; as, whether the monarch was himself respected,--whether -the orders he gave were to be executed beneath his own eye; and, -lastly, whether they suited the taste, or coincided with the opinion, -of the person who received them. - -In the case of Arthur, every one who followed him thought they had a -right not only to counsel, but to act; and the prince himself, afraid -of opposing them, lest they should fall from him before the arrival of -the reinforcements placed by Philip more absolutely under his command, -could only retain the external appearance of authority, by sanctioning -what they themselves proposed. - -The tumultuary council held upon the occasion passed in rapid -interjections to somewhat of the following tenor. "Let us divide into -three bodies!--Each leader attack a gate. Hugues le Brun, I join -myself to you.--We will to the southern door.--I attack that -postern.--Sire de Maulèon, where do you attack?--I undertake the great -gate; that is, if the beau sire Arthur so commands." - -"Certainly, beau sire! I think it will be advisable; but, at all -events, let the various attacks be simultaneous," replied the prince: -"let some signal be given when all are ready." - -"True, true! Well bethought, beau sire! You are an older warrior than -any of us.--Sire de Coucy, where do you attack? I see your men are -busy about mantlets and pavisses." - -"I attack that tower," replied De Coucy, pointing to one that, though -tall and strong, seemed somewhat more ancient than the wall. - -"Ha! you would add another tower to those in your chief," said Savary -de Maulèon, "but you will fail. We have no ladders. Better come with -me to the gate. Well, as you will.--Sire Geoffroy de Lusignan, speed -round with your force, and shoot up a lighted arrow when you are -ready.--Where do you bestow yourself, beau sire Arthur?" - -"If the prince will follow my counsel," said Hugues le Brun, "he will -hover round with the men-at-arms which were given him by the king, and -bestow his aid wherever he sees it wanted." - -"Or keep on that high ground," said Geoffroy de Lusignan, "and send -your commands to us, according as you see the action turn." - -Arthur bowed his head; and all the knights rode off towards the -different points they had chosen for their attack, except de Coucy, -the tower he had marked being exactly opposite the spot where they had -held their council, if such it could be called. - -"They would fain prevent my fighting," said Arthur, turning to De -Coucy, and speaking still in a low voice, as if fearful of some one -hearing who might oppose his purpose; "but they will be mistaken. Sire -de Coucy, I pray you, as good knight and true, let me fight under your -honourable banner." - -"To your heart's content, my prince," replied the knight, "By Heaven! -I would not keep you from the noble game before us, for very shame -sake!--Hugo de Barre, put foot to the ground, with all my squires, and -advance the mantlets.--Have you the pickaxes and the piles all ready?" - -"All is ready, beau sire," replied the squire; "store of axes and of -iron bars." - -"Advance then!" cried the knight, springing to the ground. "Captain -Jodelle, dismount your men, and cover us under your arrows as we -advance." - -"But the signal has not been given from the other side," said Arthur. -"Had you not better wait, sir Guy? - -"We have more to do than they have," replied the knight; "and, besides, -they have left us, and we beginning the attack, the Normans will think -ours a false one, and will not repel us so vigorously, more especially -as we direct our efforts against a tower instead of a gate; but they -are deceived. I see a crevice there in the very base of the wall, that -will aid us shrewdly.--Stay here, beau sire, till I return, and then -we will in together." - -"Oh! sire de Coucy," cried the noble youth, "you are going to fight -without me.--Do not! do not deceive me, I pray you!" - -"On my honour, gallant prince," said De Coucy, grasping his hand, "I -will not strike a stroke, except against stone walls, till you strike -beside me;" and he advanced to the spot where Hugo de Barre, and three -other of his men, held up an immense heavy screen of wood-work, just -within bow-shot of the walls. Four more of the knight's men stood -underneath this massy defence, holding all sorts of instruments for -mining the wall, as well as several strong piles of wood, and bundles -of fagots. As soon as De Coucy joined them, the whole began to move -on; and Jodelle's Brabançois, advancing at a quick pace, discharged a -flight of arrows at the battlements of the tower, which apparently, by -the bustle it occasioned, was not without some effect. An instant -answer of the same kind was given from the walls, and missiles of all -kinds fell like a thick shower of hail. - -In the mean while Arthur stood on the mound, with some ten or fifteen -men-at-arms, who had been placed near him as a sort of body-guard by -Philip. From thence he could behold several points destined to be -attacked, and see the preparations of more than one of the leaders for -forcing the gates opposite to which they had stationed themselves. But -his chief attention still turned towards De Coucy, who was seen -advancing rapidly under the immense mantlet of wood he had caused to -be constructed, on which the arrows, the bolts, and the stones from -the slings fell in vain. On, on, it bore to the very foot of the -tower; but then came, on the part of the besiegers, the more -tremendous sort of defence of hurling down large stones and trunks of -trees upon it; so that, more than once, the four strong men by whom it -was supported tottered under the weight, and Hugo de Barre himself -fell upon his knee. - -This last accident, however, proved beneficial; for the inclined -position thus given to the mantlet caused the immense masses that had -been cast down upon it to roll off; and the squire rose from his knee -with a lightened burden. In the mean time Jodelle and his companions -did good and soldierlike service. It was almost in vain that the -defenders of the tower shouted for fresh implements to crush the -besiegers. Not a man could show himself for an instant on the walls, -but an arrow from the bows of the Brabançois struck him down, or -rattled against his armour; and thus the supply of fresh materials was -slow and interrupted. In the mean while De Coucy and his squires -laboured without remission at the foundation of the tower. A large -crack, with which the sure sapping hand of Time had begun to undermine -the wall, greatly facilitated their purpose; and, at every well-aimed -and steady blow which De Coucy directed with his pickaxe at the joints -of the mortar, some large mass of masonry rolled out, and left a -widening breach in the very base of the tower. - -At this moment the signal for the general assault was given, from the -other side of the town, by an arrow tipped with lighted tow being shot -straight up into the air; and in a moment the whole plain rang with -the shouts and cries of the attack and defence. - -Arthur could not resist the desire to ride round for a moment, and see -the progress of the besiegers in other points; and animated with the -sight of the growing strife, the clanging of the trumpets, and the -war-cries of the combatants, his very heart burned to join his hand in -the fray, and win at least some part of the honour of the day. De -Coucy, however, was his only hope in this respect; and galloping back -as fast as he could, after having gazed for a moment at the progress -of each of the other parties, he approached so near the point where -the knight was carrying on his operations, that the arrows from the -wall began to ring against his armour. Arthur's heart beat joyfully at -the very feeling that he was in the battle; but a sight now attracted -his attention, which engrossed all his hopes and fears, in anxiety for -the noble knight who was there labouring in his behalf. - -The masses of wall which De Coucy and his followers had detached, had -left so large a gap in the solid foundation of the tower, that it -became necessary to support it with the large piles of wood, to -prevent the whole structure from crushing them beneath its fall, while -they pursued their labours. This had just been done, and De Coucy was -still clearing away more of the wall, when suddenly a knight, who -seemed to have been informed of what was passing, appeared on the -battlements of the tower, followed by a number of stout yeomen, -pushing along an immense instrument of wood, somewhat like one of the -cranes used in loading and unloading vessels. From a high lever above, -hung down the whole trunk of a large tree, tipped at the end with -iron; this was brought immediately over the spot where De Coucy's -mantlet concealed himself and his followers from the lesser weapons of -the besieged, and, at a sign from the knight, the lever slowly raised -the immense engine in the air. - -"Have a care!--have a care! Sire de Coucy!" shouted at once the whole -troop of Brabançois, as well as Arthur's men-at-arms. But before their -cry could well reach the knight, or be understood, the lever was -suddenly loosed, and the ponderous mass of wood fell with its iron-shod -point upon the mantlet, dashing it to pieces. Hugo de Barre was -struck down, with four of the other squires; but De Coucy himself, who -was actually in the mine he had dug, with three more of his followers, -who were close to the wall, remained untouched. Hugo, however, -instantly sprang upon his feet again, but little injured, and three of -his companions followed his example; the fourth remained upon the -field for ever. - -"Back, Hugo!--Back to the prince, all of you!" cried De Coucy.--"Give -me the light, and back!" - -The squires obeyed; and, having placed in the knight's hand a resin -torch which was by this time nearly burnt out, they retreated towards -the Brabançois, under a shower of arrows from the walls, which, sped -from a good English bow, in more than one instance pierced the lighter -armour of De Coucy's squires, and left marks that remained till death. -In the mean while, not a point of De Coucy's armour, as he moved to -and fro at the foot of the tower, that was not the mark of an arrow or -a quarrel; while the English knight above, animated his men to every -exertion, to prevent him from completing what he had begun. - -"A thousand crowns to him who strikes him down!" cried he.--"Villains! -cast the stones upon him! On your lives, let him not fire those -fagots, or the tower and the town is lost.--Give me an arblast;" and -as he spoke, the knight snatched a cross-bow from one of the yeomen, -dressed the quarrel in it, and aimed steadily at the bars of De -Coucy's helmet as he bore forward another bundle of fagots and jammed -it into the mine. - -The missile struck against one of the bars, and bounded off. "Well -aimed, William of Salisbury!" cried De Coucy, looking up. "For ancient -love, my old companion in arms, I tell thee to get back from the -tower, for within three minutes it is down!" And so saying, he applied -his torch to various parts of the pile of wood he had heaped up in the -breach, and retired slowly towards prince Arthur, with the arrows -rattling upon his armour like a heavy shower of hail upon some -well-roofed building. - -"Now, my noble lord," cried he, "down from your horse, and prepare to -rush on! By Heaven's grace, you shall be the first man in Mirebeau; -for I hear by the shouts, that the others have not forced the gates -yet.--Hugo, if thou art not badly hurt with that arrow, range the men -behind us--By the Lord! William of Salisbury will stay till the tower -falls!--See! they are trying to extinguish the fire by casting water -over, but it is in vain; the pillars have caught the flame. Hark, how -they crack!" - -As De Coucy spoke, the earl of Salisbury and his men, seeing that the -attempt to put out the fire was useless, retired from the tower. The -flame gradually consumed the heaps of loose wood and fagots with which -the knight had filled the mine; and the strong props of wood with -which he had supported the wall as he worked on, caught fire, one -after the other, and blazed with intense fury. The besiegers and the -besieged watched alike in breathless expectation, as the fire wore -away the strength of the wood. Suddenly one of the props gave way; but -only a mass of heated masonry followed. Another broke--the tower -tottered--the others snapped short with the weight--the falling mass -seemed to balance itself in the air, and struggle, like an overthrown -king, to stand for but a moment longer--then down it rushed, with a -sound like thunder, and lay a mass of smoking ruins on the plain. - -"On! on!" cried De Coucy; "charge before the dust subsides! A Coucy! a -Coucy!--St. Michael! St. Michael!" and in an instant he was standing, -with prince Arthur by his side, in the midst of the breach which the -fall of the tower had made in the wall and half-way up the sort of -causeway formed by its ruins. They passed not, however, unopposed, for -Wilham Longsword instantly threw himself before them. - -"Up! Prince Arthur! up!" cried De Coucy; "you must be the first.--Set -your foot on my knee:" and he bent it to aid the young prince in -climbing a mass of broken wall that lay before him. Arthur sprang up, -sword in hand, amidst the smothering cloud of dust and smoke that -still hung above the ruins, and his weapon was instantly crossed with -that of his uncle, William of Salisbury, his father's natural -brother. At the same moment, De Coucy rushed forward and struck down -two of the Norman soldiers who opposed his passage; but then paused, -in order not to abandon Arthur to an old and experienced knight, far -more than his match in arms. - -For five blows and their return, De Coucy suffered the prince to -maintain the combat himself, _to win his spurs_, as he mentally termed -it. The sixth stroke, however, of William of Salisbury's tremendous -sword fell upon Arthur's shoulder; and though the noble lad sturdily -bore up, and was not even brought upon his knee, yet the part of his -armour where the blow fell, flew into shivers with its force. The earl -lifted his sword again, and Arthur, somewhat dizzied and confused, -made a very faint movement to parry it; but instantly De Coucy rushed -in, and received the edge of the weapon on his shield. - -"Nobly fought! my prince!" cried he, covering Arthur with one arm, and -returning William Longsword's blow with the other,--"nobly fought, and -knightly done!--Push in with your men-at-arms, and the Brabançois, and -leave this one to me.--Now, Salisbury, old friend, we have stood side -by side in Palestine. I love thee as well face to face. Thou art a -noble foe. There stands my foot!" - -"Brave Coucy! Thou shalt have thy heart's content!" cried the earl, -dealing one of his sweeping blows at the knight's neck. But he had now -met with his equal; and, indeed, so powerful were each of the -champions, so skilful in the use of their weapons, and so cool in -their contention, that the combat between them was long and undecided. -Blow answered blow with the rapidity of lightning: stroke followed -stroke. Their arms struck fire, the crests were shorn from their -helmets, the bearings effaced from their shields, and their surcoats -of arms became as tattered as a beggar's gown. - -Still, though De Coucy pressed him with impetuous fury, William of -Salisbury yielded not a step; and it was only when he saw his -followers driven back by the superior number of the Brabançois and -men-at-arms, led by Arthur, that he retired a pace or two, still -dealing blows thick and fast at De Coucy, who followed foot by foot, -shouting his battle-cry, and encouraging the men to advance: while, -every now and then, he addressed some word of friendly admiration to -his opponent, even in the midst of the deadly strife that he urged so -furiously against him. - -"Thou art a good knight, on my soul, lord Salisbury!" cried he; "yet -take that for the despatch of this affair!" and he struck him with the -full sway of his blade, on the side of his head, so that the earl -reeled as he stood. - -"Gramercy!" cried William, recovering his equipoise, and letting a -blow fall on the knight's casque, not inferior in force to the one he -had received. - -At that moment, however, his troops gave way still farther before the -Brabançois; and at the same time a party of the burghers came rushing -from another part of the town, crying "The gate is lost! the gate is -lost!--we saw it dashed in!" - -"Then the town is lost too," said Salisbury coolly.--"Sound a -retreat!" he continued, turning his head slightly to a squire, who -stood behind him watching lest he should be struck down, but forbidden -by all the laws of war to interpose between two knights, so long as -they could themselves maintain the combat. At the same time, while the -squire, as he had been bidden, sounded a retreat on his horn, William -Longsword still continued to oppose himself to the very front of the -enemy; and not till his men were clear, and in full retreat towards -the castle, did he seek to escape himself, though he in a degree -quitted the personal combat with De Coucy to cover with some of his -bravest men-at-arms the rear of the rest. Now, he struck a blow here; -now felled a Brabançois there; now, returned for an instant to De -Coucy; and now, rushed rapidly to restore order amongst his retreating -troops. - -As they quitted the walls, however, and got embarrassed in the streets -of the town, the Norman soldiers were every moment thrown into more -and more confusion, by the various parties of the burghers who had -abandoned the walls, and were flying towards the castle for shelter. -Several knights also, and men-at-arms, were seen retreating up the -high streets, from the gate which had been attacked by Savary de -Maulèon; just at the moment that De Coucy, rushing on into the -market-place, caught his standard from the hands of Hugo de Barre, and -struck it into the midst of the great fountain of the town. - -The flight of the knights showed sufficiently to lord Salisbury, that -the gate which they had been placed to defend had been forced also; -and his sole care became now to get his men as speedily and as safely -within the walls of the castle as possible. This was not so difficult -to do; for though De Coucy and Arthur still hung upon his rear with -the men-at-arms, and a part of the Brabançois, a great majority of the -latter, giving way to their natural inclination, dispersed to pursue -their ancient avocation of plundering. - -A scene of no small horror presented itself at the gates of the -castle. Multitudes of the burghers, with their women and children, had -crowded thither for safety; but Eleanor, with the most pitiless -cruelty, ordered the garrison to drive them back with arrows, and not -to suffer one to enter on pain of death. Their outstretched hands, -their heart-rending cries, were all in vain; the queen was inexorable; -and more than one had been wounded with the arrows, who had dared to -approach the barbican. - -When Salisbury and his band came near, however, the multitude, driven -to despair by seeing the pursuers following fiercely on his track, -made an universal rush to enter along with him; and it was only by -using their swords against the townsmen, and even the women, that the -soldiers could clear themselves a passage. - -Salisbury was of course the last who passed himself; and as he turned -to enter, while his soldiers formed again within the barbican, two -women, of the highest class of the townspeople, clung to his knees, -entreating him by all that may move man's heart, to let them follow -within the walls. - -"I cannot!--I must not!" exclaimed he harshly; but then, turning once -more, he shouted to De Coucy, who, seeing that farther pursuit was -vain, now followed more slowly. - -"Sire De Coucy!" he exclaimed, as if he had been speaking to his -dearest friend. "If you love me, protect this helpless crowd as much -as may be. For old friendship's sake, I pray thee!" - -"I will, Salisbury!--I will!" replied De Coucy,--"beau sire Arthur, -have I your permission?" - -"Do what thou wilt, dear friend and noble knight," replied the prince. -"Is there anything you could ask me now, that I would not grant?" - -"Stand back then, ho!" cried the knight, waving his hand to the -Brabançois, who were pressing forward towards the trembling crowd of -burghers "Stand back! Who passes that mark is my foe!" and he cast -his gauntlet on the ground in the front of the line. - -"We will not be balked of our spoil. The purses of the burghers are -ours!" cried several of the free companions; and one sprang forward -from immediately behind De Coucy, and passed the bound he had fixed. -That instant, however, the knight, without seeing or inquiring who he -was, struck him a blow in the face with the pommel of his sword, that -laid him rolling on the ground with the blood spouting from his mouth -and nose. No one made a movement to follow; and Jodelle--for it was -he--rose from the ground, and retired silently to his companions. - -De Coucy then advanced with prince Arthur towards the multitude -crowding round the barbican. Immediately the soldiers on the walls -bent their bows: but the voice of the earl of Salisbury was heard -exclaiming, "Whoever wings a shaft at him dies on the spot?" and De -Coucy proceeded to tell the people, that they must, if they hoped to -be spared, yield whatever gold or jewels they had about them to the -soldiery; and that all such men as were not clerks must agree to -surrender themselves prisoners, and pay a fair ransom, such as should -be determined afterwards by the prince's council. - -This matter was soon settled; the universal cry from the burghers -being, in their extremity of fear, "Save our lives!--Save our women's -honour!--Save our children!--and take gold, or whatever else we -possess!" Each one instantly stripped himself of the wealth he had -about him; and this, being collected in a heap, satisfied for the time -the rapacity of the soldiers. De Coucy then took measures to secure -the lives of the prisoners; and putting them by twos and threes under -the protection of the prince's men-at-arms and his own squires, he -accompanied Arthur to the market-place, followed by the Brabançois, -wrangling with each other concerning the distribution of the spoil, -and seemingly forgetful of their disappointment in not having been -permitted to add bloodshed to plunder. - -In the market-place, beside De Coucy's standard, stood Savary de -Maulèon, Geoffroy de Lusignan, and several other barons, with three -Norman knights as prisoners. The moment De Coucy and Arthur -approached, Savary de Maulèon advanced to meet them; and with that -generous spirit, which formed one of the brightest points in the -ancient knightly character, he pressed the former opponent of his -counsels in his mailed arms, exclaiming, "By my faith, Sire de Coucy, -thou hast kept thy word! There stands thy banner, an hour before -sun-set! and I proclaim thee, with the voice of all my companions, the -lord of this day's fight." - -"Not so, fair sir!" replied De Coucy, "not so! There is another, to -whom the honour justly belongs.--Who first mounted the breach we made -in the wall? Who first measured swords with the famous William -Longsword, earl of Salisbury, and who, in short, has been the first in -all this day's achievements?--Here he stands," continued the knight, -turning towards the princely youth who stood beside him, blushing -to his very brow, both with graceful embarrassment and gratified -pride--"here he stands! and may this conquest of Mirebeau be but the -first of those that shall, step by step, give him his whole -dominions.--Sound trumpets, sound!--Long life to Arthur, king of -England!" - - - - -CHAPTER VII. - - -Just six days after the events we have related in our last chapter, -Guerin, the good minister whom we have so often had occasion to -notice, was walking up and down under a range of old beech-trees, -which, forming the last limit of the forest of Compiègne, approached -close to the castle, and waved their wide branches even over part of -the royal garden. - -Guerin, however, was not within the boundary of the garden; from which -the spot he had chosen for his walk, was separated by a palisade and -ditch covered towards the castle by a high hedge of shrubs. There was -indeed an outlet towards the forest by means of a small postern door, -and a slight moveable bridge of wood, but the key of that gate -remained alone with the king; so that the minister, to reach the part -of the wood in which he walked, must have made a considerable circuit -round the castle, and through part of the town itself. His object, -probably, in choosing that particular spot, was to enjoy some moments -of undisturbed thought, without shutting himself up in the close -chambers of a Gothic château. Indeed, the subjects which he revolved -in his heart were of that nature, which one loves to deal with in the -open air, where we have free space to occupy the matter, while the -mind is differently engaged--strong contending doubts, hesitations -between right and wrong, the struggles of a naturally gentle and -feeling heart, against the dictates of political necessity. Such were -the guests of his bosom. The topic, which thus painfully busied the -minister's thoughts, was the communication made to him by the good but -weak bishop of Paris, as a consequence of his conversation with -Bernard, the hermit of St. Mandé. - -To tear the hearts of the king and queen asunder,--to cast between -them so sad an apple of discord as jealousy, especially when he -felt convinced that Agnes's love to her husband was as firm as -adamant,--was a stroke of policy for which the mind of Guerin was -hardly framed; and yet the misery that the interdict had already -brought, the thousand, thousand fold that it was yet to bring, could -only be done away and averted by such a step. Philip remained firm to -resist to the last; Agnes was equally so to abide by his will, without -making any attempt to quit him. In a hundred parts of the kingdom, the -people were actually in revolt. The barons were leaguing together to -compel the king to submission, or to dethrone him; and ruin, -wretchedness, and destruction seemed threatening France on every side. -The plan proposed by the canon of St. Berthe's might turn away the -storm, and yet Guerin would rather have had his hand struck off than -put it in execution. - -Such were the thoughts, and such the contending feelings, that warred -against each other in his breast, while he paced slowly up and down -before the palisade of the garden; and yet nothing showed itself upon -his countenance but deep, calm thought. He was not one of those men -whose features or whose movements betray the workings of the mind. -There were no wild starts, no broken expressions, no muttered -sentences: his corporeal feelings were not sufficiently excitable for -such gesticulations: and the stern retired habits of his life had -given a degree of rigidity to his features, which, without effort -rendered them on all ordinary events as immoveable as those of a -statue. - -On the present occasion, he was followed by a page bearing his sword; -for, as we have before said, during many years after he had been -elected to the bishopric of Senlis, he retained the habit of a knight -hospitaller; but the boy, though accustomed to mark his lord's -countenance, beheld nothing there but the usual steady gravity of -profound thought. - -As he passed backwards and forwards, the voices of two persons -conversing in the garden hard by struck his ear. At first, the -speakers were afar off, and their tones indistinct; but gradually they -came so near, that their words even would have been perfectly audible, -had Guerin been one to play the eaves-dropper; and then again they -passed on, the sounds dying away as they pursued their walk round -their garden. - -"The queen's voice," said Guerin to himself; "and, if I mistake not, -that of the Count D'Auvergne. He arrived at Compiègne last night, by -Philip's own invitation, who expected to have returned from Gournay -long since. Pray God, he fail not there! for one rebuff in war, and -all his barons would be upon him at once. I wish I had gone myself; -for he is sometimes rash. If he were to return now, and find this -Auvergne with the queen, his jealousy might perchance spring from his -own head. But there is no hope of that: as he came not last night, he -will not arrive till evening." - -Such was the course of Guerin's thoughts, when a page, dressed in a -bright green tunic of silk, approached, and, addressing himself to the -follower of the minister, asked his way to the garden of the château. - -"Why, you must go a mile and more round, by the town, and in at the -great gates of the castle," replied Guerin's page.--"What do you seek -in the garden?" - -"I seek the Count d'Auvergne," replied the youth, "on business of life -and death; and they told me that he was in the garden behind the -château, close by the forest.--My curse upon all misleaders!" and he -turned to retread his steps through the town. - -Guerin had not heeded this brief conversation, but had rather -quickened his pace, to avoid hearing what was said by the queen and -the Count d'Auvergne, who at the moment were passing, as we have said, -on the other side of the palisade, and spoke loud, in the full -confidence that no human ears were near. A few words, however, forced -themselves upon his hearing. - -"And such was my father's command and message," said Agnes in a -sorrowful tone. - -"Such, indeed, it was, lady," replied the Count d'Auvergne; "and he -bade me entreat and conjure you, by all that is dear and sacred -between parent and child----" - -Guerin, as we have said, quickened his pace: and what the unhappy -Count d'Auvergne added was lost, at least to him. Sufficient time had -just elapsed, to allow the speakers in the garden to turn away from -that spot and take the sweep towards the castle, when the sound of -horse was heard approaching. Guerin advanced to the end of one of the -alleys, and to his surprise beheld the king, followed by about a dozen -men-at-arms, coming towards the castle in all haste. - -Before he reached the spot where Guerin stood, Philip dismounted, and -gave his bridle to one of the squires. "I will through the garden," -said he:--"go you round to the gates as quietly as possible--I would -not have the poor burgesses know that I am returned, or I shall have -petitions and lamentations about this accursed interdict: petitions -that I cannot grant--lamentations that I would not hear." - -The squire took the bridle, and, in obedience to the king's commands, -turned another way with the rest of the party; while Philip advanced -slowly, with his brow knit, and his eyes fixed on the ground. He did -not observe his minister; and, as he came onward, it was easy to read -deep, powerful, painful thought in every line of his countenance. -Twice he stopped, as he advanced, with his look still bent upon the -earth, and remained gazing thereon, without word or motion, for -several minutes. It would have seemed that he paused to remark some -moss and wild flowers, gathered together at his feet, had not his -frowning forehead, and stern, fixed eye, as well as the mournful shake -of the head, with which his pause still ended, told that sadder and -more bitter contemplations were busy in his mind. - -The last time he stopped was within ten paces of Guerin, and yet he -did not see him, so deeply occupied were all his thoughts. At length, -unclasping his arms, which had been folded over his breast, he -clenched his hands tight, exclaiming, "Happy, happy Saladin! Thou hast -no meddling priest to disturb thy domestic joys!--By Heaven! I will -embrace thy creed, and worship Mahound!" - -As he spoke, he raised his eyes, and they instantly rested on the -figure of his minister. "Ha, Guerin!" cried the king, "has the -interdict driven thee forth from the city?" - -"Not so, sire," replied the minister. "I came forth to meditate here -in silence, over what might be done to raise it.--Get thee gone, boy!" -he continued, turning to his page. "Hie thee to the castle, and leave -me with the king." - -"Oh! Guerin!" said Philip, pursuing his own train of thought,--"oh -Guerin! think of these base barons! these disloyal knights! After all -their empty enthusiasm!--after all their vain boastings!--after all -their lying promises!--falling off from me now, in my moment of -need! like flies frightened from a dead carcase by the wings of a -raven.--And the bishops too!--the goodly, saintly, fickle, treacherous -pack, frightened by the very hum of Rome's vulture wings!--they leave -me in the midst of the evil they have made! But, by the Lord above! -they shall suffer for their treason! Bishops and barons! they shall -feel this interdict as deeply as I do. Their treachery and cowardice -shall fill my treasury, and shall swell my crown's domains; and they -shall find that Philip knows how to make their punishment increase his -power. Gournay has fallen, Guerin," continued the king, "without the -loss of a man. I cut the high sluices and overwhelmed them in the -waters of their own artificial lake. Walls, and turrets, and -buttresses gave way before the rushing inundation, like straws before -the sickle. Half Normandy has yielded without resistance; and I might -have come back joyful, but that in every town as I passed, it was -murmurs, and petitions, and lamentations on the foul interdict. -They brought out their dead," proceeded Philip, grasping Guerin's -arm,--"they brought out their dead, and laid them at my feet! They -lined the streets with the dying, shrieking for the aid of religion. -Oh! Guerin! my friend! 'tis very horrible!--very, very, very -horrible!" - -"It is indeed, sire!" said Guerin solemnly, "most horrible! and I am -sorry to increase your affliction by telling you, that, by every -courier that arrives, the most alarming accounts are brought from the -various provinces of your kingdom, speaking of nothing but open -rebellion and revolt." - -"Where?" cried Philip Augustus, his eyes flashing fire. "Where? Who -dares revolt against the will of their liege sovereign?" - -"In fifty different points of the kingdom the populace are in arms, -sire!" replied the minister. "I will lay the details before you at -your leisure. Many of the barons, too, remonstrate in no humble tone." - -"We will march against them, Guerin,--we will march against them," -replied the king firmly, "and serfs and barons shall learn they have a -lord." - -As he spoke, he advanced a few paces towards the garden, then paused, -and drawing forth a scrap of parchment, he put it into Guerin's hand. -"I found that on my table at Gournay," said the king. "'Tis strange! -Some enemy of the Count d'Auvergne has done it!" - -Guerin looked at the paper, and beheld, written evidently in the hand -of the canon of St. Berthe's, which he well knew; "Sir king, beware of -the Count d'Auvergne!" The minister, however, had no time to make any -reply; for the sound of the voices in the garden began again to -approach, and Philip instantly recognised the tones of Agnes de -Meranie. - -"'Tis the queen," said he,--"'Tis Agnes!" and as he spoke that beloved -name, all the cares and sorrows that, in the world, had gathered round -his noble brow, like morning clouds about the high peak of some proud -mountain, rolled away, like those same clouds before the risen sun, -and his countenance beamed with more than usual happiness. - -Guerin had by no means determined how to act, though he decidedly -leaned towards the scheme of the canon of St. Berthe's; but the -radiant gladness of Philip's eye at the very name of Agnes de Meranie, -strangely shook all the minister's conclusions, and he remained more -than ever in doubt. - -"Hark!" cried Philip, in some surprise. "There is the voice of a -man!--To whom does she speak? Know you, Guerin?" - -"I believe--I believe, sire," replied the minister, really embarrassed -and undecided how to act,--"I believe it is the Count d'Auvergne." - -"You believe!--you believe!" cried the king, the blood mounting into -his face, till the veins of his temples swelled out in wavy lines upon -his clear skin. "The Count d'Auvergne! You hesitate--you stammer, sir -bishop!--you that never hesitated in your days before. What means -this?--By the God of heaven! I will know!"--and drawing forth the key -of the postern, he strode towards it. But at that moment the sound of -the voices came nearer and nearer--It was irresistible--The king -paused. - -Agnes was speaking, and somewhat vehemently. "Once for all, beau sire -d'Auvergne," she said, "urge me no more; for, notwithstanding all you -say--notwithstanding all my own feelings in this respect, I must -not--I cannot--I will not--quit my husband. That name alone, my -husband, were enough to bind me to him by every duty; and I will never -quit him!" - -What were the feelings of Philip Augustus as he heard such words, -combined with the hesitation of his minister, with the warning he had -received, and with the confused memory of former suspicions! The -thoughts that rushed through his brain had nearly driven him to -madness. "She loves me not!" he thought. "She loves me not--after all -I have done, and sacrificed for her! She is coldly virtuous--but she -loves me not;--she owns, her feelings take part with her seducer!--but -she will not leave me, for duty's sake!--Hell and fury! I, that have -adored her! She loves me not!--Oh God! she loves me not!--But -he,--he--shall not escape me! No,--I will wring his heart of its last -drop of blood! I will trample it under my feet!" - -His wild straining eye,--the almost bursting veins of his -temples,--the clenching of his hands,--but more, the last words, which -had found utterance aloud--showed evidently to Guerin the dreadfully -over-wrought state of the king's mind; and, casting himself between -Philip and the postern as he rushed towards it, he firmly opposed the -monarch's passage, kneeling at his feet, and clasping his knees in his -still vigorous arms. - -"Some one is coming. Count d'Auvergne!" Agnes was heard to say -hastily. "Begone! leave me!--Never let me hear of this again! Begone, -sir, I beg!" - -"Unclasp me," cried the king, struggling to free himself from Guerin's -hold. "Thou knew'st it too, vile confidant! Base betrayer of your -sovereign's honour!--Unclasp me, or, by Heaven! you die as you -kneel!--Away! I say!" and, drawing his sword, he raised his arm over -the hospitaller's head. - -"Strike, sire!" cried Guerin undauntedly, clasping the monarch's knees -still more firmly in his arms--"strike your faithful servant! His -blood is yours--take it! You cannot wound his heart more deeply with -your weapon, than you have done with your words--Strike! I am unarmed; -but here will I lie, between you and your mad passion, till you have -time to think what it is to slay a guest, whom you yourself invited, -in your own halls--before you know whether he be guilty or not." - -"Free me, Guerin!" said Philip more calmly, but still with bitter -sternness. "Free me, I say! I am the king once more! Nay, hold not by -my haubert, man!" - -Guerin rose, saying, "I beseech you, sire, consider! But Philip put -him aside with a strong arm; and, passing over the bridge, entered the -garden by the postern gate. - -"Now, God forgive us all, if we have done amiss in this matter; and -surely if I have inflicted pain, it has not been without suffering it -too." Such was the reflection of the good bishop of Senlis, when left -by Philip; but although his heart was deeply wrung to see the agony of -a man he loved, and to be thereof even a promoter, he was not one to -waste his moments in fruitless regrets; and, passing through the -postern, which the king had neglected to shut, he proceeded, as fast -as possible, towards the castle, in order to govern the circumstances, -and moderate Philip's wrath, as much as the power of man might do. - -In the mean while, Philip had entered the garden with his sword drawn, -and passing through the formal rows of flowering shrubs, which was the -taste of that day, he stood for an instant at the top of the large -square of ground which lay between him and the castle. Half the way -down on the left side, his eye caught the form of Agnes de Meranie; -but she was alone, save inasmuch as two of her ladies, following at -about a hundred yards' distance, could be said to keep her company. -Without turning towards her, Philip passed through a long arcade of -trellis-work which ran along the wall to the right, and, with a pace -of light, made his way to the castle. - -On the steps he paused, replaced his sword in the sheath, and, passing -through one of the lesser towers, in a minute after stood in the midst -of the great hall. The men-at-arms started up from their various -occupations and amusements, and stood marvelling at the unannounced -coming of the king; more than one of them taxing themselves internally -with some undisclosed fault, and wondering if this unusual visitation -portended a reproof. - -"Has the Count d'Auvergne been seen?" demanded Philip in a tone which -he meant to be calm, but which, though sufficiently rigid--if such a -term may be applied to sound--still betrayed more agitation than he -imagined--"Has the Count d'Auvergne been seen?" - -"He passed but this instant, sire," replied one of the serjeants, -"with a page habited in green, who has been searching for him this -hour." - -"Seek him!" cried the king in a voice that needed no repetition; and -the men-at-arms vanished in every direction from the hall, like dust -scattered by the wind. During their absence, Philip strode up and down -the pavement, his arms ringing as he trod, while the bitter gnawing of -his nether lip showed but too plainly the burning passions that were -kindled in his bosom. Every now and then, too, he would pause at one -of the doors, throw it wide open--look out, or listen for a moment, -and then resume his perturbed pacing in the hall. - -In a few minutes, however, the bishop of Senlis entered, and -approached the king. Philip passed him by, knitting his brow, and -bending his eyes on the ground, as if resolved not to see him. Guerin, -notwithstanding his frown, came nearer, respectfully but boldly; and -the king was obliged to look up. "Leave me, sir Guerin," said he. "I -will speak with thee anon. Answer not; but leave me, for fear of -worse." - -"Whatever worse than your displeasure may happen, sire," replied -Guerin, "I must abide it--claiming, however, the right of committing -the old servant's crime, and speaking first, if I am to be chidden -after." - -Philip crossed his arms upon his broad chest, and with a stern brow -looked the minister full in the face; but remained silent, and -suffered him to continue. - -"You have this day, my lord," proceeded Guerin, with unabated -boldness, "used hard terms towards a faithful subject and an ancient -friend; but you have conferred the great power upon me of forgiving my -king. My lord, I do forgive you, for thinking that the man who has -served you truly for twenty years,--since when first, in the boyish -hand of fifteen, you held an unsteady sceptre,--would now betray your -honour himself, or know it betrayed without warning you thereof. True, -my lord, I believed the Count d'Auvergne to be at the moment of your -arrival in the castle gardens with your royal queen." - -The king's lip curled, but he remained silent. "Nevertheless," -continued Guerin, "so God help me, as I did and do believe he meant no -evil towards you, beau sire; and nought but honourable friendship -towards the queen." - -"Good man!" cried the king, his lip curling with a sneer, doubly -bitter, because it stung himself as well as him to whom it was -addressed. "Guerin, Guerin, thou art a good man!--too good, as the -world goes!" - -"Mock me, sire, if you will," replied the minister, "but hear me still. -I knew the Count d'Auvergne to be the dear friend of this lady's -father--the sworn companion in arms of her dead brother: and I doubted -not that, as he lately comes from Istria, he might be charged to -enforce towards the queen herself, the same request that her father -made to you by letter, when first he heard that the divorce was -annulled by the see of Rome--namely, that his daughter might return to -his court, and not be made both the subject and sacrifice of long -protracted disputes with the supreme pontiff." - -"Ha!" said the king, raising his hand thoughtfully to his brow. -"Say'st thou?" and for several minutes he remained in deep meditation. -"Guerin, my friend," said he at length, raising his eyes to the -minister as he comprehended at once the hospitaller's motive for -gladly yielding way to such a communication between the Count -d'Auvergne and Agnes as that of which he spoke--"Guerin, my friend, -thou hast cleared thyself of all but judging ill. Thy intentions--as I -believe from my soul they always are--were right. I did thee wrong. -Forgive me, good friend, in charity; for, even among kings, I am very, -very unhappy!" and he stretched out his hand towards his minister. - -Guerin bent his lips to it in silence; and the king proceeded:-- - -"In clearing thyself too, thou hast mingled a doubt with my hatred of -this Thibalt d'Auvergne; but thou hast not taken the thorn from my -bosom. She may be chaste as ice, Guerin. Nay, she is. Her every -word, her every look speaks it--even her language to him was beyond -doubt--but still, she loves me not, Guerin! She spoke of duty, but she -never spoke of love! She, who has been my adoration--she, who loved -me, I thought, as kings are seldom loved--she loves me not!" - -Guerin was silent. He felt that he could not conscientiously say one -word to strengthen the king's conclusion, that Agnes did not love him; -but for the sake of the great object he had in view, of raising the -interdict, and thereby freeing France from all the dangers that -menaced her, he forebore to express his firm conviction of the queen's -deep attachment to her husband. - -Fortunately for his purpose, at this moment one or two of the king's -serjeants-at-arms returned, informing Philip, with no small addition -of surprise, that they could find no trace of the Count d'Auvergne. - -"Let better search be made!" said the king; "and the moment he is -found, let him be arrested in my name, and confined, under strict -guard, in the chapel tower. Let his usage be good, but his prison -sure. Your heads shall answer!" Thus saying, he turned, and left the -hall, followed by Guerin, who dared not urge his remonstrances farther -at the moment. - - - - -CHAPTER VIII. - - -It may be necessary here to go back a little, in order to show more -fully what had really been that conversation between Thibalt -d'Auvergne and the fair Agnes de Meranie, of which but a few words -have yet reached the reader's ears. - -The Count d'Auvergne had come to the castle of Compiègne, as we have -shown, upon the direct invitation of the king himself; and, indeed, -Philip had taken more than one occasion to court his powerful vassal; -not alone, perhaps, from political motives, but because he felt within -himself, without any defined cause, a kind of doubt and dislike -towards him, which he believed to be unjust, and knew to be impolitic; -and which, he was continually afraid, might become apparent, unless he -stretched his courtesy to its utmost extent. - -D'Auvergne made no return. The frozen rigidity of his manner was never -relaxed for an instant; and whatever warmth the king assumed, it could -never thaw him even to a smile. Nor was this wholly the offspring of -that personal dislike which he might well be supposed to feel to a -happy and successful rival; but he felt that, bound by his promise to -the old duke of Istria, he had a task to perform, which Philip would -consider that of an enemy, and therefore D'Auvergne resolved never to -bear towards him, for a moment, the semblance of a friend. - -Having, after his return to Paris, once more accepted Philip's -invitation to Compiègne; which, being made upon the plea of consulting -him respecting the conquest of Constantinople, was complied with, -without obligation. D'Auvergne proceeded on the evening appointed to -the castle; but, finding that Philip had not returned from the siege -of Gournay, he lodged himself and his followers, as he best might, in -the village. He felt, however, that he must seize the moment which -presented itself, of conveying to Agnes her father's message; and -convinced, by bitter experience, of the quick and mortal nature of -opportunity, the morning after his arrival he proceeded to the castle, -and demanded an audience of the queen. - -No sensation on earth, perhaps, can be conceived more bitter than that -of seeing the object of one's love in the possession of another; and -Thibalt d'Auvergne's heart beat painfully--his very lip grew pale, as -he passed into the castle hall, and bade one of the pages announce him -to the queen. A few moments passed, after the boy's departure, in sad -expectation; the memory of former days contrasting their bright -fancies with the dark and gloomy hopelessness of the present. The page -speedily returned, and informed the count that his lady, the queen, -would see him with pleasure if he would follow to the garden. -D'Auvergne summoned all his courage; for there is more real valour in -meeting and conquering our own feelings, when armed against us, than -in overthrowing the best paladin that ever mounted horse. He followed -the boy towards the garden with a firm step, and, on entering, soon -perceived the queen advancing to meet him. - -She was no longer the gay, bright girl that he had known in Istria, on -whose rosy cheek the touch of care had withered not a flower, whose -step was buoyancy, whose eyes looked youth, and whose arching lip -breathed the very spirit of gladness. She was no longer the same fair -girl we have seen, dreaming with her beloved husband overjoys and -hopes that royal stations must not know--with the substantial -happiness of the present, and the fanciful delights of the future, -forming a beamy wreath of smiles around her brow.--No; she was still -fair and lovely, but with a sadder kind of loveliness. The same sweet -features remained,--the same bland soul, shining from within--the same -heavenly eyes--the same enchanting lip; but those eyes had an -expression of pensive languor, far different from former days; and -that lip, though it beamed with a sweet welcoming smile, as her -father's and her brother's friend approached, seemed as if chained -down by some power of melancholy, so that the smile itself was sad. -The rose too had left her cheek; and though a very, very lovely colour -of a different hue had supplied its place, still it was not the colour -of the rose. It was something more delicate, more tender, more akin -to the last blush of the sinking sun before he stoops into the -darkness. - -Two of the queen's ladies were at some distance behind, and, with good -discretion, after the count d'Auvergne had joined their royal -mistress, they made that distance greater. D'Auvergne advanced, and, -as was the custom of the day, bent his lips to the queen's hand. The -one he raised it in, trembled as if it were palsied; but there was -feverish heat in that of Agnes, as he pressed his lip upon it, still -more fearful. - -"Welcome to the court, beau sire D'Auvergne!" said the queen with a -sweet and unembarrassed smile. "You have heard that my truant husband, -Philip, has not yet returned, though he promised me, with all a -lover's vows, to be back by yester-even. They tell me, you men are all -false with us women, and, in good truth, I begin to think it." - -"May you never find it too bitterly, madam," replied the count. - -"Nay, you spoke that in sad earnest, my lord," said Agnes, now -striving with effort for the same playful gaiety that was once natural -to her. "You are no longer what you were in Istria, beau sire. But we -must make you merrier before you leave our court. Come, you know, -before the absolution, must still go confession;" and as she spoke, -with a certain sort of restlessness that had lately seized her, she -led the way round the garden, adding, "Confess, beau sire, what makes -you sad--every one must have something to make them sad--so I will be -your confessor. Confess, and you shall have remission." - -She touched the count's wound to the quick, and he replied in a tone -of sadness bordering on reproach: "Oh! madam! I fear me, confession -would come too late!" - -How a single word--a single tone--a single look, will sometimes give -the key to a mystery. There are moments when conception, awakened we -know not how, flashes like the lightning through all space, illumining -at once a world that was before all darkness. That single sentence, -with the tone in which it was said, touched the "electric chain" of -memory, and ran brightening along over a thousand links in the past, -which connected those words with the days long gone by. It all flashed -upon Agnes's mind at once. She had been loved--deeply, powerfully -loved; and, unknowing _then_ what love was, she had not seen it. But -_now_, that love was the constant food of her mind, from morning until -night, her eyes were opened at once, and that, with no small pain to -herself. The change in her manner, however, was instant; and she felt, -that one light word, one gay jest, after that discovery, would render -her culpable, both to her husband and to Thibalt d'Auvergne. Her eye -lost the light it had for a moment assumed--the smile died away upon -her lip, and she became calm and cold as some fair statue. - -The Count d'Auvergne saw the change, and felt perhaps why; but as he -did feel it, firm in the noble rectitude of his intentions, he lost -the embarrassment of his manner, and took up the conversation which -the queen had dropped entirely. - -"To quit a most painful subject, madam," he said calmly and firmly, -"allow me to say that I should never have returned to Europe, had not -duties called me; those duties are over, and I shall soon go back to -wear out the frail rest of life amidst the soldiers of the cross. I -may fall before some Saracen lance,--I may taste the cup of the mortal -plague; but my bones shall whiten on a distant shore, after fighting -under the sign of our salvation. There still, however, remains one -task to be performed, which, however wringing to my heart, must be -completed. As I returned to France, madam, I know not what desire of -giving myself pain made me visit Istria; I there saw your noble -father, who bound me by a knightly vow to bear a message to his -child." - -"Indeed, sir!" said Agnes: "let me beg you would deliver it.--But -first tell me, how is my father?" she aided anxiously,--"how looks he? -Have age, and the wearing cares of this world, made any inroad on his -vigorous strength? Speak, sir count!" - -"I should say falsely, lady," replied D'Auvergne, "if I said that, -since I saw him before, he had not become, when last we met, an -altered man. But I was told by those about him, that 'tis within the -last year this change has principally taken place." - -"Indeed!" said Agnes thoughtfully: "and has it been very great? Stoops -he now? He was as upright as a mountain pine, when I left him? Goes he -forth to hunt as formerly?" - -"He often seeks the chase, lady," answered the count, "as a diversion -to his somewhat gloomy thoughts; but I am grieved to say, that age has -bent the pine." - -Agnes mused for several minutes; and the count remained silent. - -"Well, sir," said she at length, "the message--what is it? Gave he no -letter? - -"None, madam," said the count; "he thought that a message by one who -had seen him, and one whose wishes for your welfare were undoubted, -might be more serviceable to the purpose he desired." - -"My lord, your wishes for my welfare are as undoubted by me as they -are by my father," replied the queen, noticing a slight emphasis which -D'Auvergne had placed upon the word _undoubted_; "and therefore I am -happy to receive his message from the lips of his friend." - -The queen's words were courteous and kind, but her manner was as cold -and distant as if she had spoken to a stranger; and D'Auvergne felt -hurt that it should be so, though he well knew that her conduct was -perhaps the wisest for both. - -After a moment's thought, however, he proceeded, to deliver the -message wherewith he had been charged by the duke of Istria and -Meranie. "Your father, lady," he said, "charged me to give you the -following message;--and let me beg you to remember, that, as far as -memory serves, I use his own words; for what might be bold, -presumptuous, or even unfeeling, in your brother's poor companion in -arms, becomes kind counsel and affectionate anxiety when urged by a -parent. Your father, lady, bade me say, that he had received a letter -from the common father of the Christian church, informing him that -your marriage with the noble king Philip was not, and could not be -valid, because----" - -"Spare the reasons, sir," said Agnes, with a calm voice, indeed, but -walking on, at the same time, with that increased rapidity of pace -which showed too well her internal agitation,--"spare the reasons, -sir! I have heard them before--Indeed, too, too often!--What said my -father, more?" - -"He said, madam, that as the pope assured him, on his apostolic truth, -that the marriage never could be rendered valid," continued the count; -"and farther, that the realm of France must be put in interdict--for -the interdict, madam, had not been then pronounced; and Celestin, a -far milder judge than the present, sat in the chair of St. Peter;--he -said, that as this was the case, and as the daughter of the duke of -Meranie was not formed to be an object of discord between a king and a -Christian prelate, he begged, and conjured, and commanded you to -withdraw yourself from an alliance that he now considered as -disgraceful as it had formerly appeared honourable; and to return to -your father's court, and the arms of your family, where, you well -know, he said, that domestic love and parental affection would -endeavour to wipe out from your heart the memory of disappointments -and sorrows brought on you by no fault of your own." - -"And such, indeed, was my father's command and message?" said the -queen, in a tone of deep affliction. - -"Such, indeed, it was, lady," replied the count D'Auvergne, "and he -bade me, farther, entreat and conjure you, by all that is dear and -sacred between parent and child, not to neglect his counsel and -disobey his commands. He said moreover that he knew----" and Thibalt -d'Auvergne's lip quivered as if the agony of death was struggling in -his heart--"he said that he knew how fondly you loved the noble king -your husband, and how hard it would be to tear yourself from him. But -he begged you to remember that your house's honour was at stake, and -not to shrink from your duty." - -"Sir count," said Agnes, in a voice that faltered with emotion, "he, -nor no one else, _can_ tell how I love my husband--how deeply--how -fondly--how devotedly. Yet that should not stay me; for though I would -as soon tear out my heart, and trample it under my own feet, as quit -him, yet I would do it, if my honour and my duty bade me go. But my -honour and my duty bid me stay----" She paused, and thoughtfully -followed the direction of the walk, clasping her small hands together, -and bending down her eyes, as one whose mind, unaccustomed to decide -between contending arguments, is bewildered by number and reiteration, -but not convinced. She thus advanced some way in the turn towards the -castle, and then added--"Besides, even if I would, how could I quit -my husband's house and territories? How could I return to Istria -without his will?" - -"That difficulty, madam, I would smooth for you or die," replied the -count. "The troops of Auvergne could and should protect you." - -"The troops of Auvergne against Philip of France!" exclaimed Agnes, -raising her voice, while her eye flashed with an unwonted fire, and -her lip curled with a touch of scorn. "And doubtless the Count -d'Auvergne to head them, and defend the truant wife against her angry -husband!" - -"You do me wrong, lady," replied D'Auvergne calmly--"you do me wrong. -The Count d'Auvergne is boon for other lands. Nor would he do one act -for worlds, that could, even in the ill-judging eyes of men, cast a -shade over the fame and honour of one----" He paused, and broke off -his sentence, adding--"But no more of that--lady, you do me wrong. I -did but deem, that, accompanied by your own holy confessor, and what -other prelates or clergymen you would, a thousand of my armed -vassals might convey you safely to the court of your father, while I, -bound by a holy vow, should take shipping at Marseilles, and never set -my foot on shore till I might plant it on the burning sands of -Palestine.--Lady, may this be?" - -"No, lord count, no!"--replied Agnes, her indignation at any one -dreaming of opposing the god of her idolatry still unsubdued, "it -cannot, nor it must not be! Did I seek Istria at all, I would rather -don a pilgrim's weeds, and beg my way thither on foot. But I seek it -not, my lord--I never will seek it. Philip is my husband--France is my -land. The bishops of this realm have freed, by their united decree, -their king from all other engagement than that to me; and so long as -he himself shall look upon that engagement as valid, I will not doubt -its firmness and its truth." - -"I have then discharged me of my unpleasant duty, lady," said the -Count d'Auvergne. "My task is accomplished, and my promise to your -father fulfilled. Yet, that it may be well fulfilled, let me beg you -once again to think of your father's commands; and knowing the -nobleness of his nature, the clearness of his judgment, and the -fearless integrity of his heart, think if he would have urged you to -quit king Philip without he thought it your duty to do so." - -"He judged as a father; I judge as a wife," replied Agnes. "I love my -father--I would die for him; and, but to see him, I would sacrifice -crown, and dignity, and wealth. Yet, once for all, beau sire -d'Auvergne, urge me no more; for, notwithstanding all you can -say--notwithstanding my own feelings in this respect, I must not--I -cannot--I will not quit my husband. That name alone, _my husband_, -were enough to bind me to him by every duty, and I will never quit -him." - -D'Auvergne was silent; for he saw, by the flushed cheek and disturbed -look of Agnes de Meranie, that he had urged her as far as in honour -and courtesy he dared to go. They had by this time turned towards the -château, from which they beheld a page, habited in green, advancing -rapidly towards them. - -"Some one is coming. Count d'Auvergne," said Agnes hastily, fearful, -although her women were at a little distance behind, that any stranger -should see her discomposed look.--"Some one is coming,--Begone! Leave -me!" And seeing the count about to speak again, though it was but to -take his leave, she added--"Never let me hear of this again! Begone, -sir, I beg!" - -She then stooped down to trifle with some flowers, till such time as -the stranger should be gone, or her own cheek lose the heated flush -with which it was overspread. - -In the meanwhile, the Count d'Auvergne bowed low, and turned towards -the castle. Before he had reached it, however, he was encountered by -De Coucy's page, who put a paper in his hand, one glance of which made -him hasten forward; and passing directly through the hall of the -château, he issued out at the other gate. From thence he proceeded to -the lodging where he had passed the night before--called his retainers -suddenly together, mounted his horse, and rode away. - -As soon as he left her, Agnes de Meranie raised her head from the -flowers over which she had been stooping, and walked on slowly, -musing, towards the castle; while thought--that strange phantasmagoria -of the brain--presented to her a thousand vague and incoherent forms, -called up by the conversation that had just passed--plans, and fears, -and hopes, and doubts, crowding the undefined future; and memories, -regrets, and sorrows thronging equally the past. Fancy, the quick -wanderer, had travelled far in a single moment, when the sound of a -hasty step caught her ear, passing along under the trellis of vines -that skirted the garden wall. She could not see the figure of the -person that went by; but it needed not that she should. The sound of -that footfall was as well known to her ear as the most familiar -form to her eye; and, bending her head, she listened again, to be -sure--very sure. - -"'Tis Philip!" said she, all her other feelings forgotten, and hope -and joy sparkling again in her eye--"'tis Philip! He sees me not, and -yet he knows that at this hour it is my wont to walk here. But perhaps -'tis later than I thought. He is in haste too by his step. However, I -will in, with all speed, to meet him;" and, signing to her women to -come up, she hastened towards the castle. - -"Have you seen the king?" demanded she of a page, who hurried to open -the gates for her. - -"He has just passed, madam," replied the youth. "He seemed to go into -the great hall in haste, and is now speaking to the serjeants-at-arms. -You may hear his voice." - -"I do," said the queen; and proceeding to her apartments, she waited -for her husband's coming, with all that joyful hope that seemed -destined in this world as meet prey for disappointment. - - - - -CHAPTER IX. - - -At Tours, we have seen De Coucy despatch his page towards the Count -d'Auvergne; and at Compiègne we have seen the same youth deliver a -letter to that nobleman. But we must here pause, to trace more -particularly the course of the messenger, which, in truth, was not -near so direct as at first may be imagined. - -There was, at the period referred to, a little hostelry in the town of -Château du Loir, which was neat and well-furnished enough for the time -it flourished in.[21] It had the most comfortable large hearth in the -world, which, in those days, was the next great excellence in a house -of general reception to that of having good wine, which always held -the first place; and round this--on each side of the fire, as well as -behind it--was a large stone seat, that might accommodate well fifteen -or sixteen persons on a cold evening. At the far corner of this -hearth, one night in the wane of September, when days are hot and -evenings are chilly, sat a fair youth of about eighteen years of age, -for whom the good hostess, an honest, ancient dame, that always prayed -God's blessing on a pair of rosy cheeks, was mulling some spiced wine, -to cheer him after a long and heavy day's riding. - - --------------------- - -[Footnote 21: I know not precisely how far back a curious antiquary -might trace the existence of such places of public reception. I find -one mentioned, however, in the Chronicle of Vezelai, about fifty years -prior to the period of which I write.] - --------------------- - - -"Ah, now! I warrant thee," said the good lady, adjusting the wood -embers carefully round the little pipkin, on the top of which just -began to appear a slight creaming foam, promising a speedy conclusion -to her labours--"ay, now! I warrant thee, thou hast seen them all--the -fair lady Isadore, and pretty mistress Alice, the head maid, and -little Eleanor, with her blue eyes. Ha, sir page, you redden! I have -touched thee, child. God bless thee, boy! never blush to be in love. -Your betters have been so before thee; and I warrant little Eleanor -would blush too. God bless her, and St. Luke the apostate! Oh, bless -thee, my boy, I know them all! God wot they stayed here, master and -man, two days, while they were waiting for news from the king John; -and old Sir Julian himself vowed he was as well here as in the best -castle of France or England." - -"Well, well, dame! I have ridden hard back, at all events," replied -the page; "and I will make my horse's speed soon catch up, between -this and Paris, the day and a half I have lingered here; so that my -noble lord cannot blame me for loitering on his errand." - -"Tut, tut! He will never know a word," cried the old dame, applying to -the page that sort of consolatory assurance that our faults will rest -unknown, which has damned many a one, both man and woman, in this -world--"he will never know a word of it; and, if he did, he would -forgive it. Lord, Lord! being a knight, of course he is in love -himself; and knows what love is. God bless him, and all true knights! -I say." - -"Oh, in love--to be sure he is!" replied the page. "Bless thee, dame! -when we came all hot from the Holy Land, like loaves out of an oven, -my lord no sooner clapped his eyes upon the lady Isadore, than he was -in love up to the ears, as they say. Ay! and would ride as far to see -her, as I would to see little Eleanor. But tell me, dame, have you -staked the door as I asked you?" - -"Latch down, and bolt shot!" answered the old lady; "but what shouldst -thou fear, poor child? Thou art not of king John's friends, that I -well divine; but, bless thee! every one who has passed, this blessed -day, says they are moving the other way; though, in good troth, I have -no need to say God be thanked; for the heavy Normans, and the thirsty -English, would sit here and drink me pot after pot, and it mattered -not what wine I gave them--Loiret was as good as Beaugency. God bless -them all, and St. Luke the apostate! as I said. So what need'st thou -fear, boy?" - -"Why, I'll tell thee, good dame. If they caught me, and knew I was the -De Coucy's man, they would hang me up, for God's benison," said the -page; "and I narrowly escaped on the road too. Five mounted men, with -their arms covered with soldiers' mantles,--though they looked like -knights, and rode like knights too,--chased me for more than a mile. -They had a good score of archers at their backs; and I would have -dodged them across the country, but every little hill I came to, I saw -a body of horse on all sides, moving pace by pace with them. Full five -hundred men, I counted one way and another; and there might be five -hundred more, for aught I know." - -"Now, St. Barbara's toe nail to St. Luke's shoulder bone," exclaimed -the hostess, mingling somewhat strangely the relics which she was -accustomed to venerate with the profane wagers of the soldiery who -frequented her house--"now, St. Barbara's toe nail to St. Luke's -shoulder bone, that these are the men whom my lodger upstairs expected -to come to-night!" - -"What lodger?" cried the page anxiously. "Dame, dame, you told me, -this very morning, you had none!" - -"And I told you true, sir chit!" replied the old woman, bridling at -the tone of reproach the page adopted. "I told you true.--There, drink -your wine--it is well mulled now;--take care you do not split the -horn, pouring it in so hot.--I told you true enough--I had no lodger -this morning, when you went; but, half an hour after, came one who had -ridden all night, with a great _boutiau_ at his saddle, that would -hold four quarts. Cursed be those _boutiaus!_ they cut us vintners' -combs. Every man carries his wine with him, and never sets foot in a -hostelry but to feed his horse." - -"But the traveller!--the traveller!--Good dame, tell me," cried the -page, "what manner of man was he?" - -"A goodly man, i'faith," replied the landlady. "Taller than thou art, -sir page, by a hand's breadth. He had been in a fray, I warrant, for -his eye was covered over with a patch, and his nose broken across. He -too would fain not be seen, and made me put him in a guest-chamber at -the end of the dormitory. He calls himself Alberic, though that is -nothing to me or any one: and there was a Norman came to speak with -him an hour after he came; but that is nothing to me either." - -"Hark, dame! hark! I hear horses," cried the page, starting up in no -small trepidation, "Where can I hide me? Where?" and, even as he asked -the question, he began to climb the stairs, that came almost -perpendicularly down into the centre of the room, with all the -precipitation of fear. - -"Not there!--not there!" cried the old woman; "thou wilt meet that -Alberic. Into that cupboard;" and, seizing the page by the arm, she -pushed him into a closet filled with faggots and brushwood for -replenishing the kitchen fire. Under this heap he ensconced himself as -well as he might, paying no regard to the skin of his hands and face, -which was very sufficiently scratched in the operation of diving down -to the bottom of the pile. The old lady, who seemed quite familiar -with all such man[oe]uvres, while the sound of approaching horses came -nearer and nearer, arranged what he had disarranged in his haste, sat -down by the fire, tossed off the remainder of the wine in the pipkin, -and began to spin quietly, while the horses' feet that had startled -the page clattered on through the village. In a moment after, they -stopped at the door; and, at the same time, a heavy footfall was heard -pacing forward above, as if some one, disturbed also by the sounds, -approached to listen at the head of the stairs. - -"Ho! Within there!" cried some person without, after having pushed the -door, and found it bolted.--"Ho! Within there! Open, I say." - -The old dame ran forward, taking care to make her feet give audible -sounds of haste upon the floor; and, instantly unfastening the door, -she stood becking and bowing to the strangers, as they dismounted from -their horses and entered the kitchen. - -"God save ye, fair sir!--God save ye, noble gentlemen. Welcome, -welcome!--Lord! Lord! I have not seen such a sight of noble faces -since good king John's army went. The blessing of God be upon him and -them! He is a right well favoured and kingly lord! Bless his noble -eyes, and his sweet low forehead, and send him plenty of crowns to put -upon it!" - -"How, dame! Dost thou know King John?" asked one of the strangers, -laying his hand upon the hostess's shoulders, with an air of kindly -familiarity. "But thou mistakest. I have heard he is villanous ugly. -Ha!" - -"Lord forgive you, sire, and St. Luke the apostate!" cried the old -woman. "He is the sweetest gentleman you ever set your eyes on. Many a -time have I seen him when the army was here; and so handsome he is! -Lord, Lord!" - -"Ha! methinks thou wouldst look handsomer thus, thyself," cried the -stranger, suddenly snatching off the old woman's quoif, and setting it -down again on her head with the wrong side in front. "So, my lovely -lass!" and he patted the high cap with the whole strength of his hand, -so as to flatten it completely. "So, so!" - -His four companions burst into a loud and applauding laugh, and were -proceeding to follow up his jest upon the old woman, when the other -stopped them at once, crying, "Enough, my masters! no more of it. Let -us to business. Guillaume de la Roche Guyon, you shall make love to -the old wench another time.--Now, beautiful lady!" he continued, -mocking the chivalrous speeches of the day. "Would those sweet lips -but deign to open the coral boundary of sound, and inform an unhappy -knight, who has this evening ridden five long leagues, whether one sir -Alberic, as he is pleased to call himself, lodges in your castle?" - -"Lord bless your noble and merry heart!" replied the old woman, -apparently not at all offended or discomposed by the accustomed gibes -of her guests. "How should I know sir Alberic? I never ask strangers' -names that do my poor hostel the honour of putting up at it. Not but -that I may have heard the name, and lately; but----" - -"But--hold thy peace, old woman!" said a voice from above. "These -persons want me, and I want them;" and down the staircase came no less -a person than our friend Jodelle, the captain of De Coucy's troop of -Brabançois. One eye indeed was covered with a patch; but this addition -to his countenance was probably assumed less as a concealment, than -for the purpose of covering the marks of a tremendous blow which we -may remember the knight had dealt him with the pommel of his sword; -and which, notwithstanding the patch, shone out in a large livid -swelling all round. - -"Tell me, dame," cried he, advancing to the hostess, before he -exchanged one word of salutation with the strangers, "who was it that -stopped at your gate half an hour ago on horseback, and where is he -gone? He was speaking with thee but now, for I heard two voices." - -"Lord bless you, sir, and St. Luke the apostate, to boot!" said the -old woman, "'twas but my nephew, poor boy; frightened out of his life, -because he said he had met with some of King Philip's horsemen on the -road. So he slipped away when he heard horses coming, and took his -beast round to the field to ride off without being noticed, because -being of the English party, King Philip would hang him if he caught -him." - -"King Philip's horsemen!" cried the first stranger, turning deadly -pale. "Whence did he come, good dame? What road did he travel, that he -saw King Philip's horsemen?" - -"He came from Flêche, fair sir," replied the hostess, "and he said -there were five of them chased him; and he saw many more scattered -about." - -"Oh, nonsense!" cried one of the other strangers. "'Tis the youth we -chased ourselves. He has taken us for Philip's men.--How was he -dressed, dame?" - -"In green, beau sire," replied the ready hostess. "He had a green -cassock on I am well nigh sure." - -"'Tis the same!--'tis the same!" said the stranger, who had asked the -last question.--"Be not afraid, beau sire," he added, speaking in a -low tone to the stranger who had entered first. "Philip is far enough; -and were he near, he should dine off the heads of lances, and quaff -red blood till he were drunk, ere he harmed a hair of your head. So, -be not afraid." - -"Afraid, sir!" replied the other, drawing himself up haughtily, now -re-assured by the certainty of the mistake concerning Philip's -horsemen. "How came you to suppose I am afraid?--Now, good fellow," he -continued, turning to Jodelle, "are you that Alberic that wrote a -billet this morning to the camp at----?" - -"By your leave, fair sir," interrupted Jodelle, "we will have a clear -coast.--Come, old woman, get thee out. We must be alone." - -"What! out of my own kitchen, sir?" cried the hostess. "That is hard -allowance, surely." - -"It must needs be so, however," answered Jodelle: "out at that door, -good dame! Thou shalt not be long on the other side;" and, very -unceremoniously taking the landlady by the arm, he put her out at the -door which opened on the street, and bolted it once more. "And now," -said he, "to see that no lurkers are about." - -So saying, he examined the different parts of the room, and then -opened the door of the closet, in which the poor page lay trembling -like an aspen leaf. - -"Brushwood!" said Jodelle, taking a candle from one of the iron -brackets that lighted the room, and advancing into the closet, he laid -his hand on one of the bundles, and rolled it over. - -The page, cringing into the space of a pigmy, escaped his sight, -however; and the roll of the fagot, instead of discovering him, -concealed him still better by falling down upon his head. But still -unsatisfied, the marauder drew his sword, and plunged it into the mass -of brushwood to make all sure.--There was in favour of the poor page's -life but the single chance of Jodelle's blade passing to the right or -left of him. Still, that chance was for him. The Brabançois' sword was -aimed a little on one side, and, leaving him uninjured, struck against -the wall. Jodelle sheathed it again, satisfied, and returned to the -strangers, the chief of whom had seated himself by the fire, and was, -with strange levity, moralising on the empty pipkin which had held the -mulled wine. - -His voice was sweet and melodious, and, though he evidently spoke in -mockery, one might discover in his speech those tones and accents that -lead and persuade. - -"Mark! Guillaume de la Roche," said he, "Mark! Pembroke, and you, sir -Alberic, mark well! for it may happen in your sinful life, that never -again shall you hear how eloquently a pipkin speaks to man. Look at -it, as I hold it now in my hand. No man amongst you would buy it at -half a denier; but fill it with glorious wine of Montrichard, and it -is worth ten times the sum. Man! man! thou art but a pipkin,--formed -of clay--baked in youth--used in manhood--broken in age. So long as -thou art filled with spirit, thou art valuable and ennobled; but the -moment the spirit is out, thou art but a lump of clay again. While -thou art full, men never abandon thee; but when thou art sucked empty, -they give thee up, and let thee drop as I do the pipkin;" and opening -his finger and thumb, he suffered it to fall on the floor, where it at -once dashed itself to pieces. - -"And now, sir Alberic," continued he, turning to Jodelle, "what the -devil do you want with me?" - -"Beau sire king," said Jodelle, bending his knee before the stranger, -"if you are indeed, as your words imply, John, king of England----" - -"I am but a pipkin!" interrupted the light king. "Alas! sir Alberic, -lam but a pipkin.--But proceed, proceed.--I am the king." - -"Well then, my lord," answered Jodelle, in truth, somewhat impatient -in his heart at the king's mockery, "as I was bold to tell you in my -letter, I have heard that your heart's best desire is to have under -your safe care and guidance your nephew, Arthur, duke of Brittany----" - -"Thou speakest right, fellow!" cried the King John, wakening to -animation at the thought. "'Tis my heart's dearest wish to have -him.--Where is the little rebel? Produce him! Have you got him here?" - -"Good God! my lord, you forget," said the Earl of Pembroke. "This fair -gentleman cannot be expected to carry your nephew about with him, like -a holy relic in a reliquary." - -"Or, a white mouse in a show-box," added Guillaume de la Roche Guyon, -laughing. - -"Good, good!" cried John, joining in the laugh.--"But come, sir -Alberic, speak plainly. Where is the white mouse? When wilt thou open -thy show-box? We have come ourselves, because thou wouldest deal with -none but us; therefore, now thou hast our presence, bear thyself -discreetly in it.--Come, when wilt thou open the box, I pray?" - -"When it pleases you to pay the poor showman his price?" said Jodelle, -bowing low and standing calmly before the king, in the attitude of one -who knows that, for the moment at least, he commands, where he seems -to be commanded; and that his demands, however exorbitant, must be -complied with. - -"Ha!" said John, knitting his brows; "I had forgot that there is not -one man on all the earth who has not his price.--Pray, what is thine, -fellow?" - -"I am very moderate, beau sire," replied Jodelle, with the most -imperturbable composure, "very moderate in regard to what I sell. -Would you know, my lord king, what I demand for placing your nephew -Arthur in your hands, with all those who are now assisting him to -besiege the queen, your mother, in her château of Mirebeau?--'Tis a -worthy deed, and merits some small recompence." - -"Speak, speak, man!" cried the king impatiently. "Go not round and -round the matter. Speak it out plainly. What sum dost thou ask?" - -"Marry! my lord, there must go more than sums to the bargain," replied -Jodelle boldly. "But if you would know justly what I do demand, 'tis -this. First, you shall pay me down, or give me here an order on your -royal treasure for the sum of ten thousand marks in what coin you -will." - -"By the Lord, and the Holy Evangelists!" cried the king; but, then -pausing, he added, while he turned a half smiling glance to Lord -Pembroke:--"Well, thou shalt have the order on the royal treasury. -What next?" - -"After you have given me the order, sire," replied Jodelle, answering -the meaning of the king's smile, "I will find means to wring the money -out of your friends, or out of your enemies, even should your treasure -be as dry as hay." - -"Try my enemies first, good Alberic," said the king; "my friends have -enough to do already.--But what next? for you put that firstly, if I -forget not." - -"Next, you must give me commission, under your royal signet, to raise -for your use, and at your expense, one thousand free lances," replied -Jodelle stoutly, "engaged to serve you for the space of ten years. -Moreover, I must have annually half the pay of Mercader; and you must -consent to dub me knight with your royal hand." - -"Knight!" cried the Earl of Pembroke, turning fiercely upon him.--"By -the Lord! if the king do dub so mean and pitiful a traitor, I will -either make the day of your dubbing the last of your life; or I will -have my own scullion strike off my own spurs, as a dishonour to my -heels, when such a villain wears the same." - -"When those spurs _are_ on, Lord Pembroke," replied Jodelle boldly, -"thou shalt not want one to meet thee, and give thee back scorn for -scorn. Till then, meddle with what concerns thee, and mar not the -king's success with thy scolding." - -"Peace, Pembroke! peace!" cried King John, seeing his hasty peer about -to make angry answer. "Who dare interfere where my will speaks?--And -now tell me, fellow Alberic," he added with an air of dignity he could -sometimes assume, "suppose that we refuse thine exacting demands--what -follows then?" - -"Why, that I betake myself to my beast's back, and ride away as I -came," answered Jodelle undisturbedly. - -"But suppose we do not let thee go," continued the king; "and farther, -suppose we hang thee up to the elm before the door." - -"Then you will have broken a king's honour to win a dead carcase," -answered the Brabançois; "for nothing shall you ever know from me that -may stead you in your purpose." - -"But we have tortures, sir, would almost make the dead speak," -rejoined King John. "Such, at least, as would make thee wish thyself -dead a thousand times, ere death came to thy relief." - -"I doubt thee not, sir king," answered Jodelle, with the same -determined tone and manner in which he had heretofore spoken--"I doubt -thee not; and, as I pretend to no more love for tortures than my -neighbours, 'tis more than likely I should tell thee all I could tell, -before the thumbscrew had taken half a turn; but it would avail thee -nothing, for nought that I could tell thee would make my men withdraw -till they have me amongst them; and, until they be withdrawn, you may -as well try to surprise the sun of heaven, guarded by all his rays, as -catch Prince Arthur and Guy de Coucy." - -"Why wouldst thou not come to the camp, then?" demanded John. "If thou -wert so secure, why camest thou not when I sent for thee?" - -"Because, King John, I once served your brother Richard," replied the -Brabançois, "and during that time I made me so many dear friends in -Mercader's band, that I thought, if I came to visit them, without two -or three hundred men at my back, they might, out of pure love, give me -a banquet of cold steel, and lodging with our lady mother,--the -earth." - -"The fellow jests, lords! On my soul! the fellow jests!" cried -John.--"Get thee back, sirrah, a step or two; and let me consult with -my nobles," he added.--"Look to him, Pembroke, that he escape not." - -John then spoke for several minutes with the gentlemen who had -attended him to this extraordinary meeting; and the conversation, -though carried on in a low tone, seemed in no slight degree -animated; more especially on the part of Lord Pembroke, who frequently -spoke loud enough for such words to be heard as "disgrace to -chivalry--disgust the barons of England--would not submit to have -their order degraded," &c. - -At length, however, a moment of greater calm succeeded; and John, -beckoning the coterel forward, spoke to him thus:-- - -"Our determination is taken, good fellow, and thou shall subscribe to -it, or not, as thou wilt. First, we will give thee the order upon our -treasury for the ten thousand marks of silver; always provided, that -within ten days' time, the body of Arthur Plantagenet is by thy means -placed in our hands--living--or dead," added the king, with a fearful -emphasis on the last word. At the same time he contracted his brows, -and though his eyes still remained fixed upon Jodelle, he half-closed -the eyelids over them, as if he considered his own countenance as a -mask through which his soul could gaze out without being seen, while -he insinuated what he was afraid or ashamed to proclaim openly. - -Lord Pembroke gave a meaning glance to another nobleman who stood -behind the king; and who slightly raised his shoulder and drew down -the corner of his mouth as a reply, while the king proceeded:-- - -"We will grant thee also, on the same condition, that which thou -demandest in regard to raising a band of Brabançois, and serving as -their commander, together with all the matter of pay, and whatever -else you have mentioned on that head; but as to creating thee a -knight, 'tis what we will not, nor cannot do, at least, for service of -this kind. If you like the terms, well!" concluded the king; "if not, -there stands an elm at the door, as we have before said, which would -form as cool and shady a dangling place, as a man could wish to hang -on in a September's day." - -"Nay, I have no wish of the kind," replied the Brabançois: "if I must -hang on any thing, let it be a king, not a stump of timber. I will not -drive my bargain hard, sir king. Sign me the papers now, with all the -conditions you mention; and when I am your servant, I will do you such -good service, that yon proud lord, who now stands in the way of my -knighthood, shall own I deserve it as well as himself." - -The Earl of Pembroke gave him a glance of scorn, but replied not to -his boast; and writing materials having been procured from some of the -attendants without--the whole house being by this time surrounded with -armed men, who had been commanded to follow the king by different -roads--the papers were drawn up, and signed by the king. - -"And now, my lord," said Jodelle, with the boldness of a man who can -render needful service, "look upon Prince Arthur as your own. Advance -with all speed upon Mirebeau. When you are within five leagues, halt -till night. Arthur, with the hogs of Poitou, is kinging it in the -town. De Coucy sleeps by his watch-fire under the castle mound. My men -keep the watch on this side of the town. Let your troops advance -quietly in the dark, giving the word _Jodelle_, and, without sign or -signal, my free fellows shall retire before you, till you are in the -very heart of the place. Arthur, with his best knights, sleeps at the -prévôt's house; surround that, and you have them all, without drawing -a sword.--Love you the plan?" - -"By my crown and honour!" cried the king, his eyes sparkling with -delight, "if the plan be as well executed as it is devised, thou wilt -merit a diamond worth a thousand marks, to weigh your silver down. -Count upon me, good Alberic! as your best friend through life, if thy -plot succeeds. Count on me, Alberic----" - -"Jodelle! for the future, so please you, sire," replied the coterel; -"Alberic was but assumed:--and now, my lord, I will to horse and away; -for I must put twenty long leagues between me and this place before -the dawn of to-morrow." - -"Speed you well!--speed you well, good Jodelle!" replied the king, -rising: "I will away too, to move forward on Mirebeau, like an eagle -to his prey. Come, lords! to horse!--Count on me, good Jodelle!" he -repeated, as he put his foot in the stirrup, and turned away, "count -on me--to hang you as high as the crow builds," he muttered to himself -as he galloped off--"ay, count on me for that! Well; lords, what think -you of our night's work?--By Heaven! our enemies are in our hands! We -have but to do, as I have seen a child catch flies,--sweep the board -with our palm, and we grasp them all." - -"True, my lord," replied the Earl of Pembroke, who had been speaking -in a low voice with some of the other followers of the prince. "But -there are several things to be considered first." - -"How to be considered, sir?" demanded King John, somewhat checking his -horse's pace with an impatient start. "What is it now?--for I know by -that word, _considered_, that there is some rebellion to my will, -toward." - -"Not so, sire," replied the Earl of Pembroke firmly; "but the barons -of England, my liege, have to remember that, by direct line of -descent, Arthur Plantagenet was the clear heir to Richard C[oe]ur de -Lion. Now, though there wants not reason or example to show that we -have a right to choose from the royal family which member we think -most fit to bear the sceptre; yet we so far respect the blood of our -kings, and so far feel for the generous ardour of a noble youth who -seeks but to regain a kingdom which he deems his of right, that we -will not march against Arthur Plantagenet, without you, sire, will -promise to moderate your wrath towards him, to confirm him in his -dukedom of Brittany, and to refrain from placing either your nephew, -or any of his followers, in any strong place or prison, on pretext of -guarding them." - -John was silent for a long space, for his habitual dissimulation could -hardly master the rage that struggled in his bosom. It conquered at -last, however, and its triumph was complete. - -"I will own, I am grieved, Lord Pembroke," said he, in a hurt and -sorrowful tone, "to think that my good English barons should so far -doubt their king, as to approach the very verge of rebellion and -disobedience, to obtain what he could never have a thought of denying. -The promises you require I give you, as freely and as willingly as you -could ask them; and if I fail to keep them in word and deed, let my -orders be no longer obeyed; let my sceptre be broken, my crown torn -from my head, and let me, by peer and peasant, be no longer regarded -as a king." - -"Thanks! my lord! thanks!" cried Lord Bagot and one or two of the -other barons, who followed. "You are a free and noble sovereign, and a -right loyal and excellent king. We thank you well for your free -promise and accord." - -Lord Pembroke was silent. He knew John profoundly, and he had never -seen promises steadily kept, which had been so easily obtained. - - - - -CHAPTER X. - - -"Now, good dame, the reckoning," cried Jodelle, as soon as King John -was gone. - -"Good dame not me!" cried the hostess, forgetting, in her indignation -at having been put out of her own kitchen, and kept for half an hour -in the street amid soldiers and horseboys, all her habitual and -universal civility. It might be shown by a learned dissertation, that -there are particular points of pride in every human heart, of so -inflammable a nature, that though we may bear insult and injury, -attack and affront, upon every other subject, with the most forbearing -consideration of our self-interest, yet but touch one of those points -with the very tip of the brand of scorn, and the whole place is in a -blaze in a moment, at the risk of burning the house down. But time is -wanting; therefore, suffice it to say, that the landlady, who could -bear, and had in her day borne all that woman can bear, was so -indignant at being put from her own door--that strong hold of an -innkeeper's heart, where he sees thousands arrive and depart without -stirring a foot himself--that she vituperated the worthy Brabançois -thereupon, somewhat more than his patience would endure. - -"Come, come, old woman!" cried he, "an' thou will not name thy -reckoning, no reckoning shalt thou have. I am not one of those who -often pay either for man's food or horse provender, so I shall take my -beast from the stall and set out." - -"Nay, nay!" she said, more fearful of Jodelle discovering the page's -horse still in the stable, than even of losing her reckoning--"nay! it -should not be said that any one, however uncivil, was obliged to fetch -his own horse. She had a boy for her stable, God wot!--Ho! boy!" she -continued, screaming from the door, "bring up the bay horse for the -gentleman. Quick!--As to the reckoning, sir, it comes only to a matter -of six sous." - -The reckoning was paid, and before Jodelle could reach the stable to -which he was proceeding, notwithstanding the landlady's remonstrance, -his horse was brought up, whereupon he mounted, and set off at full -speed. - -The moment the clatter of his horse's feet had passed away, the pile -of fagots and brushwood rolled into the middle of the floor, and the -half-suffocated page sprang out of his place of concealment. His face -and hands were scratched and torn, and his dress was soiled to that -degree, that the old lady could not refrain from laughing, till she -saw the deadly paleness of his countenance. - -"Get me a stoup of wine, good dame--get me a stoup of wine--I am faint -and sad--get me some wine!" cried the youth. "Alack! that I, and no -other, should have heard what I have heard!" - -The old lady turned away to obey, and the page, casting himself on a -settle before the fire, pressed his clasped hands between his knees, -and sat gazing on the embers, with a bewildered and horrified stare, -in which both fear and uncertainty had no small part. - -"Good God! what shall I do?" cried he at length. "If I go back to Sir -Guy, and tell him that, though he ordered me to make all speed to the -Count d'Auvergne, I turned out of my way to see Eleanor, because the -pedlar told me she was at La Flêche, he will surely cleave my skull -with his battle-axe for neglecting the duty on which he sent me." And -an aguish trembling seized the poor youth, as he thought of presenting -himself to so dreadful a fate. - -"And if I go not," added he thoughtfully, "what will be the -consequence? The triumph of a traitor--the destruction of my brave and -noble master--the ruin of the prince's enterprise. I will go. Let him -do his worst--I will go. Little Eleanor can but lose her lover; and -doubtless she will soon get another--and she will forget me, and be -happy, I dare say;" and the tears filled his eyes, between emotion at -the heroism of his own resolution, and the painful images his fancy -called up, while thinking of her he loved. "But I will go," he -continued--"I will go. He may kill me if he will; but I will save his -life, at least.--Come, good dame! give me the wine!" - -The poor page set the flagon to his lips, believing, like many another -man, that if truth lies in a well, courage and resolution make their -abode in a tankard. In the present instance, he found it marvellous -true; and within a few minutes his determination was so greatly -fortified, that he repeated the experiment, and soon drank himself -into a hero. - -"Now, good dame!--now, I will go!" cried he. "Bid thy boy bring me my -horse. And thank God, all your days, for putting me in that closet; -for owing to that, one of the most diabolical schemes shall be -thwarted that ever the devil himself helped to fabricate." - -"The Lord be praised! and St. Luke and St. Martin the apostates!" -cried the hostess; "and their blessing be upon your handsome -face!--Your reckoning comes to nine sous, beau sire, which is cheap -enough in all conscience, seeing I have nourished you as if you were -my own son, and hid you in the cupboard as if you were my own -brother." - -The page did not examine very strictly the landlady's accounts; -though, be it remarked, nine sous was in that day no inconsiderable -sum; but, having partaken freely of the thousand marks which De Coucy -had received before leaving Paris, he dispensed his money with the -boyish liberality that too often leaves us with our very early years. - -"Allons!" cried he, springing on his horse, "I will go, let what may -come of it. Which way do I turn, dame, to reach Mirebeau?" - -"To the left, beau page,--to the left!" replied the old woman. "But, -Lord-a-mercy on thy sweet heart! 'tis a far way. Take the second road, -that branches to the right, sir page," she screamed after him; "and -then, where it separates again, keep to the left." But long ere she -had concluded her directions, the youth was far out of hearing. - -He rode on, and he rode on; and when the morning dawned, he found -himself, with a weary horse and a sad heart, still in the sweet plains -of bright Touraine. The world looked all gay and happy in the early -light. There was a voice of rejoicing in the air, and a smile in the -whole prospect, which went not well in harmony with the feelings of -the poor youth's heart. Absorbed in his own griefs, and little knowing -the universality of care, as he looked upon the merry sunshine -streaming over the slopes and woods which laughed and sparkled in the -rays, he fancied himself the only sorrowful thing in nature; and when -he heard the clear-voiced lark rise upon her quivering wings, and fill -the sky with her carolling, he dropped his bridle upon his horse's -neck, and clasped his hand over his eyes. He was going, he thought, to -give himself up to death;--to quit the sunshine, and the light, and -the hopes of youth, and the enjoyments of fresh existence, for the -cold charnel,--the dark, heavy grave,--the still, rigid, feelingless -torpor of the dead! - -Did his resolution waver? Did he ever dream of letting fate have its -course with his lord and his enterprise, and, imitating the lark, to -wing his flight afar, and leave care behind him? He did! He did, -indeed, more than once; and the temptation was the stronger, as his -secret would ever rest with himself--as neither punishment nor -dishonour could ever follow, and as the upbraiding voice of conscience -was all that he had to fear. The better spirit, however, of the -chivalrous age came to his aid--that generous principle of -self-devotion--that constantly inculcated contempt of life, where -opposed to honour, which raised the ancient knight to a pitch of glory -that the most calculating wisdom could never obtain, had its effect -even in the bosom of the page; and, though never doubting that death -would be the punishment of his want of obedience and discipline, he -still went on to save his master and accuse himself. - -It was not long, however, before the means presented itself, as he -thought, of both sparing the confession, and circumventing the -villanous designs of the Brabançois. As he rode slowly into a little -village, about eight o'clock in the morning, he saw a horse tied to -the lintel of a door, by the way-side, which he instantly recognised -as Jodelle's, and he thanked St. Martin of Tours, as if this rencontre -was a chance peculiarly of that saint's contriving. The plan of the -page smacked strongly of the thirteenth century. "Here is the -villain," said he, "refreshing at that house after his night's ride. -Now, may the blessed St. Martin never be good to me again, if I do not -attack him the moment he comes forth; and though he be a strong man, -and twice as old as I am, I have encountered many a Saracen in the -Holy Land, and, with God's blessing, I will kill the traitor, and so -stop him in his enterprise. Then may I ride on merrily, to seek the -count d'Auvergne, and never mention a word of this plot of theirs, or -of my own playing truant either." - -Ermold de Marcy--for so was the page called--had a stout heart in all -matters of simple battle, as ever entered a listed field; and had -Jodelle been ten times as renowned a person as he was, Ermold would -have attacked him without fear, though his whole heart sunk at the -bare idea of offering himself to De Coucy's battle-ax; so different is -the prospect of contention, in which death may ensue, from the -prospect of death itself. - -Quietly moderating his horse's progress to the slowest possible pace, -lest the noise of his hoofs should call Jodelle's attention, he -advanced to the same cottage; and, not to take his adversary at an -unjust disadvantage, he dismounted, and tied his beast to a post hard -by. He then brought round his sword ready to his hand, loosened his -dagger in the sheath, and went on towards the door; but, at that -moment, the loud neighing of the Brabançois' courser, excited by the -proximity of his fellow quadruped, called Jodelle himself to the door. - -The instant he appeared, Ermold, without more ado, rushed upon him, -and, striking him with his clenched fist exclaimed, "You are a -villain!" Then springing back into the middle of the road, to give his -antagonist free space, he drew his sword with one hand, and his dagger -with the other, and waited his approach. - -For his part, Jodelle, who at once recognised De Coucy's attendant, -had no difficulty in deciding on the course he had to pursue. The page -evidently suspected him of something, though of what, Jodelle of -course could not be fully aware. De Coucy believed him (as he had -taken care to give out) to be lying wounded in one of the houses of -Mirebeau. If the page then ever reached Mirebeau, his treachery would -be instantly discovered, and his enterprise consequently fail. It -therefore followed, that without a moment's hesitation, it became -quite as much Jodelle's determination to put the page to death, as it -was Ermold's to bestow the same fate on him; and, with this sanguinary -resolution on both sides, they instantly closed in mortal conflict. - -Although, on the first view, such a struggle between a youth of -eighteen and a vigorous man of five-and-thirty would seem most -unequal, and completely in favour of the latter; yet such was not -entirely the case. Having served as page since a very early age, with -so renowned a knight as Guy de Coucy, Ermold de Marcy had acquired not -only a complete knowledge of the science of arms, but also that -dexterity and agility in their use, which nothing but practice can -give. - -Practice also certainly Jodelle did not want; but Ermold's had been -gained in the Holy Land, where the exquisite address of the Saracens -in the use of the scymitar had necessitated additional study and -exercise of the sword amongst the crusaders and their followers. - -Ermold also was as active as the wind, and this fully compensated the -want of Jodelle's masculine strength. But the Brabançois had -unfortunately in his favour the advantage of armour, being covered -with a light haubert,[22] which yielded to all the motions of his -body, and with a steel bonnet, which defended his head; while the poor -page had nothing but his green tunic, and his velvet cap and feather. -It was in vain, therefore, that he exerted his skill and activity in -dealing two blows for every one of his adversary's; the only -accessible part of Jodelle's person was his face, and that he took -sufficient care to guard against attack. - - --------------------- - -[Footnote 22: There are various differences of opinion concerning the -persons to whom the use of the haubert was confined. Ducange implies, -from a passage in Joinville, that this part of the ancient suits of -armour was the privilege of a knight. Le Laboureur gives it also to a -squire. But the Brabançois and other bands of adventurers did not -subject themselves to any rules and regulations respecting their arms, -as might be proved from a thousand different instances.] - --------------------- - - -The noise of clashing weapons brought the villagers to their doors; -but such things were too common in those days, and interference -therein was too dangerous an essay for any one to meddle; though some -of the women cried out upon the strong man in armour, for drawing on -the youth in the green cassock. - -Ermold was nothing daunted by the disadvantage under which he -laboured; and after having struck at Jodelle's face, and parried all -his blows, with admirable perseverance, for some minutes, he actually -meditated running in upon the Brabançois; confident that if he could -but get one fair blow at his throat, the combat would be at an end. - -At that moment, however, it was interrupted in a different manner; for -a party of horsemen, galloping up into the village, came suddenly upon -the combatants, and thrusting a lance between them, separated them for -the time. - -"How now, masters! how now!" cried the leader of the party, in rank -Norman-French. "Which is France, and which is England?--But fight -fair! fight fair, i' God's name!--not a man against a boy,--not a -steel haubert against a cloth jerkin. Take hold of them, Robin, and -bring them in here. I will judge their quarrel." - -So saying, the English knight, for such he was who spoke, dismounted -from his horse, and entered the very cottage from which Jodelle had -issued a few minutes before. It seemed to be known as a place of -entertainment, though no sign nor inscription announced the calling of -its owner; and the knight, who bore the rough weather-beaten face of -an old bluff soldier, sat himself down in a settle, and leaning his -elbow on the table, began to interrogate Ermold and the Brabançois, -who were brought before him as he had commanded. - -"And now, sir, with the haubert," said he, addressing Jodelle, -apparently with that sort of instinctive antipathy, that the good -sometimes feel, they scarce know why, towards the bad, "how came you, -dressed in a coat of iron, to draw your weapon upon a beardless youth, -with nothing to guard his limbs from your blows?" - -"Though I deny your right to question me," replied Jodelle, "I will -tell you, to make the matter short, that I drew upon him because he -drew on me in the first place; but still more, because he is an enemy -to my lord, the king of England." - -"But thou art no Englishman, nor Norman either," replied the knight. -"Thy tongue betrays thee. I have borne arms here, these fifty years, -from boyhood to old age, and I know every jargon that is spoken in the -king's dominions, from Rouen to the mountains; and thou speakest none. -Thou art a Frenchman, of Provence, or thine accent lies." - -"I may be a Frenchman, and yet serve the king of England," replied -Jodelle boldly. - -"God send him better servants than thou art, then!" replied the old -knight.--"Well, boy, what sayest thou? Nay, look not sad, for that -matter. We will not hurt thee, lad." - -"You will hurt me, and you do hurt me," answered Ermold, "if you hold -me here, and do not let me either cut out that villain's heart, or on -to tell my lord that he is betrayed." - -"And who is thy lord, boy?" demanded the knight, "English or -French?--and what is his name?" - -"French!" answered Ermold boldly; and with earnest pride he added, "he -is the noble Sir Guy de Coucy." - -"A good knight!--a good knight!" said the Englishman. "I have heard -the heralds tell of him. A crusader too--young, they say, but very -bold, and full of noble prowess: I should like to splinter a lance -with him, in faith!" - -"You need not baulk your liking, sir knight," answered the page at -once: "my master will meet you on horseback, or on foot, with what -arms you will, and when:--give me but a glove to bear him as a gage, -and you shall not be long without seeing him." - -"Thou bearest thee like the page of such a knight," replied the -Englishman; "and in good truth, I have a mind to pleasure thee," he -added, drawing off one of his gauntlets, as if about to send it to De -Coucy; but whether such was his first intention or not, his farther -determinations were changed by Jodelle demanding abruptly--"Know you -the signature of king John, sir knight?" - -"Surely! somewhat better than my own," answered the other,--"somewhat -better than my own, which I have not seen for these forty years; and -which, please God! I shall never see again; for my last will and -testament, which was drawn by the holy clerk of St. Anne's, two years -and a half come St. Michael's, was stamped with my sword pommel, -seeing that I had forgot how to write one half the letters of my name, -and the others were not readable.--But as to the king's, I'd swear to -_it_." - -"Well then," said Jodelle, laying a written paper before him, "you -must know that; and by that name I require you not only to let me pass -free, but to keep yon youth prisoner, as an enemy to the king." - -"'Tis sure enough the king's name, in his own writing; and there is -the great seal too," said the old knight. "This will serve your turn, -sir, as far as going away yourself,--but as to keeping the youth, I -know nothing of that. The paper says nothing of that, as far as I can -see." - -"No; it does not," said Jodelle; "but still----" - -"Oh, it does not, does not it?" said the Englishman, giving back the -paper. "Thank you at least for that admission; for, as to what the -paper says, may I be confounded if I can read a word of it." - -"Listen to me, however," said Jodelle; and approaching close to the -English knight, he whispered a few words in his ear. - -The old man listened for a moment, with a grave and attentive face, -bending his head and inclining his ear to the Brabançois' -communication. Then suddenly he turned round, and eyed him from head -to foot with a glance of severe scorn. "Open the door!" cried he to -his men loudly--"open the door! By God, I shall be suffocated!--I -never was in a small room with such a damned rascal in my life before. -Let him pass! let him pass! and keep out of the way--take care his -clothes do not touch you--it may be contagious; and, by the Lord! I -would sooner catch the plague than such villany as he is tainted -withal." - -While surprised, and at first scarce grasping their leader's meaning, -the English troopers drew back from the Brabançois' path, as if he had -been really a leper, Jodelle strode to the door of the cottage, -smothering the wrath he dared not vent. On the threshold, however, he -paused; and, turning towards the old soldier as if he would speak, -glared on him for a moment with the glance of a wounded tiger; but, -whether he could find no words equal to convey the virulence of his -passion, or whether prudence triumphed over anger, cannot be told, but -he broke suddenly away, and catching his horse's bridle, sprang into -the saddle, and rode off at full speed. - -"I am afraid I must keep thee, poor youth," said the old knight,--"I am -afraid I must keep thee, whether I will or no. I should be blamed if I -let thee go; though, on my knightly honour, 'tis cursed hard to be -obliged to keep a good honest youth like thee, and let a slave like -that go free! Nevertheless, you must stay here; and if you try to make -your escape, I do not know what I must do to thee. Robin," he -continued, turning to one of his men-at-arms, "put him into the back -chamber that looks upon the lane, and keep a good guard over him, -while I go on to the other village to see that lord Pembroke's -quarters be prepared:--and hark ye," he added, speaking in a lower -voice, "leave the window open, and tie his horse under it, and there is -a gros Tournois for thee to drink the king's health with the villagers -and the other soldiers. Do you understand?" - -"Ay, sir! ay!" answered the man-at-arms, "I understand, and will take -care that your worship's commands be obeyed." - -"'Tis a good youth," said the old knight, "and a bold, and the other -was nothing but a pitiful villain, that will be hanged yet, if there -be a tree in France to hang him on. Now, though I might be blamed if I -let this lad go, and John might call me a hard-headed old fool, as -once he did; yet I don't know, Robin,--I don't know whether in -knightly honour I should keep the true man prisoner and let the -traitor go free--I don't know Robin,--I don't know!" - -So saying, the good old soldier strode to the door; and the man he -called Robin took poor Ermold into a small room at the back of the -house, where he opened the window, saying something about not wishing -to stifle him, and then left him, fastening the door on the other -side. - -The poor page, however, bewildered with disappointment and distress, -and stupified with fatigue and want of sleep, had only heard the -charge to guard him safely, without the after whisper, which -neutralised that command; and, never dreaming that escape was -possible, he sat down on the end of a truckle bed that occupied the -greater part of the chamber, and gave himself up to his own melancholy -thoughts. He once, indeed, thought of looking from the window, with a -vague idea of freeing himself; but as he was about to proceed thither, -the sound of a soldier whistling, together with a horse's footsteps, -convinced him that a guard was stationed there, and he abandoned his -purpose. In this state he remained till grief and weariness proved too -heavy for his young eyelids, and he fell asleep. - -In the meanwhile, the old knight, after being absent for more than -three hours, returned to the village, which he had apparently often -frequented before, and riding up to his man Robin, who was drinking -with some peasants in the market-place, his first question was, "Where -is the prisoner, Robin? I hope he has not escaped;" while a shrewd -smile very potently contradicted the exact meaning of his words. - -"Escaped!" exclaimed Robin: "God bless your worship! he cannot have -escaped, without he got out of the window! for I left five men -drinking in the front room." - -"Let us see, Robin,--let us see!" said the old man. "Nothing like -making sure, good Robin;" and he spurred on to the cottage, sprang -from his horse like a lad; and, casting the bridle to one of his men, -passed through the front room to that where poor Ermold was confined. - -Whatever had been his expectations, when he saw him sitting on the -bed, just opening his heavy eyes at the sound of his approach, he -could not restrain a slight movement of impatience. "The boy's a -fool!" muttered he,--"the boy's a fool!" But then, recovering himself, -he shut the door, and, advancing to the page, he said,--"I am right -glad, thou hast not tried to escape, my boy,--thou art a good lad and -a patient; but if ever thou shouldst escape, while under my custody, -for 'tis impossible to guard every point, remember to do my greeting -to your lord, and tell him that I, Sir Arthur of Oakingham, will be -glad to splinter a lance with him, in all love and courtesy." - -The page opened his eyes wide, as if he could scarce believe what he -heard. - -"If he does not understand that," said the old man to himself, "he is -a natural fool!" But to make all sure, he went to the narrow window, -and leaning out, after whistling for a minute, he asked,--"Is that -your horse? 'Tis a bonny beast, and a swift, doubtless.--Well, sir -page, fare thee well!" he added: "in an hour's time I will send thee a -stoup of wine, to cheer thee!" and, without more ado, he turned, and -left the room once more, bolting the door behind him. - -Ermold stood for a moment, as if surprise had benumbed his sinews; but -'twas only for a moment! for then, springing towards the casement, he -looked out well on each side, thrust himself through, without much -care either of his dress or his person; and, springing to the ground, -was in an instant on his horse's back, and galloping away over the -wide, uninclosed country, like Tam o'Shanter with all the witches -behind him. - -For long he rode on, without daring to look behind; but when he did -so, he found that he was certainly unpursued; and proceeded, with -somewhat of a slackened pace, in order to save his horse's strength. -At the first cottage he came to, he inquired for Mirebeau; but by the -utter ignorance of the serfs that inhabited it, even of the name of -such a place, he found that he must be rather going away from the -object of his journey than approaching it. At the castles he did not -dare to ask; for the barons of that part of the country were so -divided between the two parties, that he would have thereby run fully -as much chance of being detained as directed. At length, however, as -the sun began to decline, he encountered a countrywoman, who gave him -some more correct information; but told him at the same time, that it -would be midnight before he reached the place he sought. - -Ermold went on undauntedly; and only stopped for half an hour, to -refresh his horse when the weary beast could hardly move its limbs. -Still he was destined to be once more turned from his path; for, at -the moment the sun was just going down, he beheld from the top of one -of the hills, a large body of cavalry moving on in the valley below; -and the banners and ensigns which flaunted in the horizontal rays, -left no doubt that they were English. - -The page was of course obliged to change his direction; but as a fine -starry night came on, he proceeded with greater ease; for the woman's -direction had been to keep due south, and in Palestine he had learned -to travel by the stars. A thousand difficulties still opposed -themselves to his way--a thousand times his horse's weariness obliged -him to halt; but he suffered not his courage to be shaken; and, at -last, he triumphed over all. As day began to break, he heard the -ringing of a large church bell, and in ten minutes he stood upon the -heights above Mirebeau. Banners, and pennons, and streamers were -dancing in the vale below; and for a moment the page paused, and -glanced his eyes over the whole scene. As he did so, he turned as pale -as death; and, suddenly drawing his rein, he wheeled to the right, and -rode away in another direction, as fast as his weary horse would bear -him. - - - - -CHAPTER XI. - - -We seldom, in life, find ourselves more unpleasantly situated, than -when, as is often the case, our fate and happiness are staked upon an -enterprise in which many other persons are joined, whose errors or -negligences counteract all our best endeavours, and whose conduct, -however much we disapprove, we cannot command. - -Such was precisely the case with De Coucy, after the taking of the -town of Mirebeau. The castle still held out, and laughed the efforts -of their small force to scorn. Their auxiliaries had not yet come up. -No one could gain precise information of the movements of King John's -army; and yet, the knights of Poitou and Anjou passed their time in -revelling and merriment in the town, pressing the siege of the castle -vigorously during the day, but giving up the night to feasting and -debauchery, and leading Prince Arthur, in the heedlessness of his -youth, into the same improvident neglect as themselves. - -When De Coucy urged the hourly danger to which they were exposed -during the night, with broken gates and an unrepaired wall, and -pressed the necessity of throwing out guards and patrols, the only -reply he obtained was, "Let the Brabançois patrol,--they were paid for -such tedious service. They were excellent scouts too. None better! Let -them play sentinel. The knights and men-at-arms had enough to do -during the day. As to King John, who feared him? Let him come. They -would fight him." So confident had they become from their first -success against Mirebeau. De Coucy, however, shared not this -confidence; but every night, as soon as the immediate operations -against the castle had ceased, he left the wounded in the town, and -retired, with the rest of his followers, to a small post he had -established on a mound, at the distance of a double arrow shot from -the fortress. His first care after this, was to distribute the least -fatigued of the Brabançois, in small parties, round the place, at a -short distance from the walls; so that, as far as they could be relied -upon, the besiegers were secure against attack. - -Still the young knight, practised in the desultory warfare of the -crusades, and accustomed to every sort of attack, both by night and -day, neglected no precaution; and, by establishing a patrol of his own -tried attendants, each making the complete round of the posts once -during the night; while De Coucy himself never omitted to make the -same tour twice between darkness and light, he seemed to insure also -the faith of the Brabançois. - -The fourth night had come, after the taking of the town; and, wearied -with the fatigues of the day, De Coucy had slept for an hour or two, -in one of the little huts of which he had formed his encampment. He -was restless, however, even during his sleep, and towards eleven of -the clock he rose, and proceeded to the watch-fire, at a short -distance from which, the man who was next to make the round was -sitting waiting his companion's return. The night was as black as ink; -there was a sort of solid darkness in the air; but withal it was very -warm; so that, though the light of the fire was very agreeable, its -heat was not to be supported. - -"Has all gone well?" demanded the knight. - -"All, beau sire," answered the man, "except that one of the coterel's -horses has got his foot in a hole, and slipped his fetlock." - -"Have you heard of his captain, Jodelle?" demanded De Coucy. "Is he -better of his hurt? We want all the men we have." - -"I have not seen him, beau sire, because I have not been in the town," -replied the squire; "but one of his fellows says, that he is very bad -indeed;--that the blow you dealt him has knocked one of his eyes quite -out." - -"I am sorry for that," said De Coucy. "I meant not to strike so -heavily, I will see him to-morrow before the attack. Bring me word, in -the morning, what house he lies at; and now mount and begin your -round, good Raoul. We will keep it up quickly to-night. I know not -why, but I am not easy. I have a sort of misgiving that I seldom feel. -Hush! What noise is that!" - -"Oh, 'tis the folks singing in the town, beau sire," replied the man. -"They have been at it this hour. It comes from the prévôt's garden. I -heard Sir Savary de Maulèon say, as he rode by us, that he would sing -the abbess of the convent a lay to-night, for the love of her sweet -eyes." - -A gust of wind now brought the sounds nearer; and De Coucy heard, more -distinctly, that it was as the man-at-arms had said. The dull tones of -a rote, with some voices singing, mingled with the merry clamour of -several persons laughing; and the general hum of more quiet -conversation told that the gay nobles of Poitou were prolonging the -revel late. - -De Coucy bade the man go; and in a few minutes after, when the other, -who had been engaged in making the rounds, returned, the knight -himself mounted a fresh horse, and rode round in various directions, -sometimes visiting the posts, sometimes pushing his search into the -country; for, with no earthly reason for suspicion, he felt more -troubled and anxious than if some inevitable misfortune were about to -fall upon him. At about three in the morning he returned, and found -Hugo de Barre, by the light of the watch-fire, waiting his turn to -ride on the patrol. - -"How is thy wound, Hugo?" demanded De Coucy, springing to the ground. - -"Oh, 'tis nothing. Sir Guy!--'tis nothing!" replied the stout squire. -"God send me never worse than that, and my bargain would be soon -made!" - -"Has all been still?" demanded the knight. - -"All, save a slight rustling I thought I heard on yonder hill," -replied Hugo. "It sounded like a far horse's feet." - -"Thou hast shrewd ears, good Hugo," answered his lord. "'Twas I rode -across it some half an hour ago or less." - -"'Tis that the night is woundy still," replied the squire, "one might -hear a fly buzz at a mile; 'tis as hot as Palestine too. Think you, -beau sire," he added, somewhat abruptly, "that 'twill be long before -this castle falls?" - -"Nine months and a day! good Hugo," answered the knight,--"nine months -and a day! without our reinforcements come up. How would you have us -take it? We have no engines. We have neither mangonel, nor catapult, -nor pierrier to batter the wall, nor ladders nor moving tower to storm -it." - -"I would fain be on to La Flêche, beau sire," said Hugo, laughing. -"'Tis that makes me impatient." - -"And why to La Flêche?" demanded De Coucy. "Why there, more than to -any other town of Maine or Normandy?" - -"Oh, I forgot, sire. You were not there," said the squire, "when the -packman at Tours told Ermold de Marcy and me, that Sir Julian, and the -Lady Isadore, and Mistress Alixe, and little Eleanor, and all, are at -La Flêche." - -"Ha!" said De Coucy, "and this cursed castle is keeping us here for -ages, and those wild knights of Poitou lying there in the town, and -spending the time in foolish revel that would take twenty castles if -well employed." - -"That is what Gallon the fool said yesterday," rejoined Hugo. "God -forgive me for putting you, sire, and Gallon together: but he said, -'If those Poitevins would but dine as heartily on stone walls as they -do on cranes and capons, and toss off as much water as they do wine, -they would drink the ditch dry, and swallow the castle, before three -days were out.'" - -"On my life, he said not amiss," replied De Coucy.--"Where is poor -Gallon? I have not seen him these two days." - -"He keeps to the town, beau sire," replied Hugo, "to console the good -wives, as he says. But here comes Henry Carvel from the rounds, or I -am mistaken. Yet the night is so dark, one would not see a camel at a -yard's distance. Ho, stand! Give the word!" - -"Arthur!" replied the soldier, and dismounted by the watch-fire. Hugo -de Barre sprang on his horse, and proceeded on his round; while De -Coucy, casting himself down in the blaze, prepared to watch out the -night by the sentinel, who was now called to the guard. - -It were little amusing to trace De Coucy's thoughts. A knight of that -day would have deemed it almost a disgrace to divide the necessary -anxieties of the profession of arms, with any other idea than that of -his lady love. However the caustic pen of Cervantes, whose chivalrous -spirit--of which, I am bold to say, no man ever originally possessed -more--had early been crushed by ingratitude and disappointment, -however his pen may have given an aspect of ridicule to the deep -devotion of the ancient knights towards the object of their love, -however true it may be that that devotion was not always of as pure a -kind as fancy has pourtrayed it; yet the love of the chivalrous ages -was a far superior feeling to the calculating transaction so termed in -the present day; and if, perhaps, it was rude in its forms and -extravagant in its excess, it had at least the energy of passion, and -the sublimity of strength. De Coucy watched and listened; but still, -while he did so, he thought of Isadore of the Mount, and he called up -her loveliness, her gentleness, her affection. Every glance of her -soft dark eyes, every tone of her sweet lip, was food for memory; and -the young knight deemed that surely for such glances and such tones a -brave man might conquer the world. - -The night, as we have seen, had been sultry, and the sky dark; and it -was now waxing towards morning; but no cool breeze announced the fresh -rising of the day. The air was heavy and close, as if charged with the -matter for a thousand storms; and the wind was as still as if no -quickening wing had ever stirred the thick and lazy atmosphere. -Suddenly a sort of rolling sound seemed to disturb the air, and De -Coucy sprang upon his feet to listen. A moment of silence elapsed, and -then a bright flash of lightning blazed across the sky, followed by a -clap of thunder. De Coucy listened still. "It could not be distant -thunder," he thought,--"the sound he had first heard. He had seen no -previous lightning." - -He now distinctly heard a horse's feet coming towards him; and, a -moment after, the voice of Hugo de Barre speaking to some one else. -"Come along, Sir Gallon, quick!" cried he. "You must tell it to my -lord himself. By Heaven! if 'tis a jest, you should not have made it; -and if 'tis not a jest, he must hear it." - -"Ha, haw!" cried Gallon the fool.--"Ha, haw! If 'tis a jest, 'tis the -best I ever made, for it is true,--and truth is the best jest in the -calendar.--Why don't they make Truth a saint, Hugo? Haw, haw! Haw, -haw! When I'm pope, I'll make St. Truth to match St. Ruth; and when -I've done, I shall have made the best saint in the pack.--Haw, haw! -Haw, haw! But, by the Lord! some one will soon make St. Lie to spite -me; and no one will pray to St. Truth afterwards.--Haw! haw! haw!--But -there's De Coucy standing by the watch-fire, like some great devil in -armour, broiling the souls of the damned.--Haw! haw! haw!" - -"What is the matter, Hugo?" cried the knight, advancing. "Why are you -dragging along poor Gallon so? - -"Because poor Gallon lets him," cried the juggler, freeing himself -from the squire's grasp, by one of his almost supernatural springs. -"Haw, haw! Where's poor Gallon now?"--and he bounded up to the place -where the knight stood, and cast himself down by the fire, -exclaiming,--"Oh rare! 'Tis a sweet fire, in this sultry night.--Haw, -haw! Are you cold, De Coucy?" - -"I am afraid, my lord, there is treason going forward," said Hugo de -Barre, riding up to his master, and speaking in a low voice. "I had -scarce left you, when Gallon came bounding up to me, and began running -beside my horse, saying, in his wild way, he would tell me a story. I -heeded him little at first; but when he began to tell me that this -Brabançois--this Jodelle--has not been lying wounded a-bed, but has -been away these two days on horseback, and came back into the town -towards dusk last night, I thought it right to bring him hither." - -"You did well," cried De Coucy,--"you did well! I will speak with -him--I observed some movement amongst the Brabançois as we returned. -Go quietly, Hugo, and give a glance into their huts, while I speak -with the juggler.--Ho, good Gallon, come hither?" - -"You won't beat me?" cried Gallon,--"ha?" - -"Beat thee! no, on my honour!" replied de Coucy; and the mad juggler -crept up to him on all-fours.--"Tell me, Gallon," continued the -knight, "is what you said to Hugo true about Jodelle?" - -"The good king Christopher had a cat!" replied Gallon. "You said you -would not beat me, Coucy; but your eyes look very like as if your fist -itched to give the lie to your honour." - -"Nay, nay. Gallon," said De Coucy, striving by gentleness to get a -moment of serious reason from him. "My own life--the safety of the -camp--of prince Arthur--of our whole party, may depend upon your -answer. I have heard you say that you are a Christian man, and kept -your faith, even while a slave amongst the Saracens; now answer me--Do -you know for certain that Jodelle has been absent, as you told your -friend Hugo? Speak the truth, upon your soul!" - -"Not upon my soul!--not upon my soul!" cried Gallon. "As to my having -a soul, that is all a matter of taste and uncertainty; but what I said -was true, upon my nose, which no one will deny--Turk or Christian, -fool or philosopher. On my nose, it was true, Coucy--on my nose." - -"By Heaven! if this prove false, I will cut it off!" cried the knight, -frowning on him. - -"Do so, do so! beau sire," replied Gallon, grinning; "and when you -have got it, God give you grace to wear it!" - -"Now, Hugo de Barre!" cried the knight, as his squire returned with a -quick pace. - -"As I hope for salvation, sir Guy," cried Hugo, "there are not ten of -the cotereaux in the huts! Those that are there are sleeping quietly -enough, but all the rest are gone!" - -"Lord! what a flash!" cried Gallon, as the lightning gleamed round -about them, playing on the armour of De Coucy and his squire. - -"Ha, Hugo! did you see nothing in that valley?" exclaimed the knight. - -"Lances, as I live!" answered the squire. "We are betrayed to the -English, sire!" - -"We may reach the town yet, and save the prince!" exclaimed the -knight. "Wake the vassals, and the Brabançois that are left! The -traitor thought them too true to be trusted: we will think them true -too.--Be quick, but silent! Bid them not speak a word!" - -Each man started up in his armour, as he was awoke; for De Coucy had -not permitted them to disarm during the siege; and, being ranged in -silence behind the knight, the small party that were left began to -descend towards the town on foot, and unknowing what duty they were -going upon. - -Between the castle and the hill on which De Coucy had established his -post was a small ravine, the entrance of which, nearest the town, -exactly fronted the breach that he had formerly effected in the wall. -In the bottom ran a quick but shallow stream, which, brawling amongst -some large stones, went on murmuring towards the castle, the ditch of -which it supplied with water. Leading his men down into the hollow, -the young knight took advantage of the stream, and by making his -soldiers advance through the water, covered the clank of their armour -with the noise of the rivulet. The most profound darkness hung upon -their way; but, during the four days they had been there, each man had -become perfectly acquainted with the ground, so that they were -advancing rapidly; when suddenly a slight measured sound, like the -march of armed men over soft turf, caused De Coucy to halt. "Stop!" -whispered he; "they are between us and the walls. We shall have a -flash presently. Down behind the bushes, and we shall see!" - -As he expected, it was not long before the lightning again blazed -across, and showed them a strong body of infantry marching along in -line, between the spot where he stood and the walls. - -"Hugo," whispered the knight, "we must risk all. They are surrounding -the town; but the southern gate must still be open. We must cut -through them, and may still save the prince. Let each man remember his -task is, to enter the house of the prévôt, and carry Arthur -Plantagenet out, whether he will or not, by the southern gate. A -thousand marks of silver to the man who sets him in the streets of -Paris;--follow silently till I give the word." - -This was said like lightning; and leading onward with a quick but -cautious step, De Coucy had advanced so far, that he could hear the -footfall of each armed man in the enemy's ranks, and the rustling of -their close pressed files against each other, when the blaze of the -lightning discovered his party also to those against whom they were -advancing. It gleamed as brightly as if the flash had been actually -between them, showing to De Coucy the corselets and pikes and grim -faces of the English soldiers within twenty yards of where he stood; -while they suddenly perceived a body of armed men approaching towards -them, whose numbers the duration of the lightning was not sufficient -to display. - -"A Coucy! a Coucy!" shouted the knight, giving the signal to advance, -and rushing forward with that overwhelming impetuosity which always -casts so much in favour of the attacking party. Unacquainted with the -ground, taken by surprise, uncertain to whom or to what they were -opposed, the Norman and English soldiers, for the moment, gave way in -confusion. Two went down in a moment before De Coucy's sword; a third -attempted to grapple with him, but was dashed to the earth in an -instant; a fourth retired fighting towards the wall. - -De Coucy pressed upon him as a man whose all--honour, fortune, -existence--is staked upon his single arm. Hugo and his followers -thronged after, widening the breach he had hewn in the enemy's ranks. -The soldier who fronted him, struck wild, reeled, staggered under his -blows, and stumbling over the ruins of the fallen tower, was trodden -under his feet. On rushed De Coucy towards the breach, seeing nought -in the darkness, hearing nought in the tumult, his quick and bloody -passage had occasioned. - -But suddenly the bright blue lightning flashed once more across his -path. What was it he beheld? The lion banner of England planted in the -breach, with a crowd of iron forms around it, and a forest of spears -shining from beyond. - -"Back! back, my lord!" cried Hugo: "the way is clear behind;--back to -the hill, while we can pass!" - -Back like lightning De Coucy trod his steps, but with a different -order of march from what he had pursued in advancing. Every man of his -train went now before him; and though his passage had been but for an -instant, and the confusion it had occasioned great, yet the English -soldiers were now pressing in upon him on all sides, and hard was the -task to clear himself of their ranks. The darkness, however, favoured -him, and his superior knowledge of the ground; and, hastening onward, -contenting himself with striking only where his passage was opposed, -he gradually fought his way out--foiled one or two that attempted to -pursue him--gained the hill, and, mounting it with the swiftness of an -arrow sped from the bow, he at length rallied his men in the midst of -the little huts in which he had lodged his soldiers after the taking -of the town. - -"Haw, haw! beau sire! Haw, haw;" cried Gallon the fool, who had never -stirred from the fire, although the heat was intense; "so you have -come back again. But I can tell you, that if you like to go down the -other way, you may have just as good a dish of fighting, for I saw, -but now, the postern of the castle open, and a whole troop of spears -wind down behind us. Haw, haw! haw, haw!" - -"Now for the last chance, Hugo!" cried the knight.--"To horse, to -horse!" - -Each man detached his beast from the spot where they stood ready, and -sprang into the saddle, doubting not that their daring leader was -about to attempt to cut his way through; but De Coucy had very -different thoughts. - -"There is the day breaking," cried he; "we must be quick. In the -confusion that must reign in the town the prince may escape, if we can -but draw the Normans' attention hitherward. Gallon, a fitting task for -you! Take some of those brands, and set fire to all the huts. Quick! -the day is rising!" - -"Haw, haw!" cried Gallon, delighted.--"Haw, haw!" and in an -astonishingly short space of time he had contrived to communicate the -flame to the greater part of the hovels, which, constructed -principally of dry branches, were easily ignited. - -"Now!" cried De Coucy, "each man his horn to his lips! and let him -blow a flourish, as if he were saluting the royal standard." - -De Coucy himself set the example, and the long, loud, united notes -rang far over the town. - -So far as calling the attention of the English army below, the plan -perfectly succeeded; and indeed, even made the greater part both of -the knights and men-at-arms believe that Arthur was without the town. - -All eyes were turned now towards the little hill, where, clearly -defined in the red light of the burning huts, stood the small party of -horsemen, hanging a dark black spot upon the very verge, backed by the -blaze of the conflagration. They might easily be mistaken for a group -of knights; and a little wood of birches some way behind, looked not -unlike a considerable clump of spears. To such a point, indeed, was -Lord Pembroke himself deceived, that he judged it fit to move a strong -body of horse round to the right of the hill, thus hemming in the -knight between the town and the castle. - -De Coucy saw the movement, and rejoiced in it. Nor did he move a step, -as long as the fire of the huts continued to blaze; wishing, as far as -possible, to embarrass the enemy by the singularity of his behaviour, -in the faint hope that every additional cause of confusion, joined to -those which must always attend a night-attack, might in some degree -facilitate the escape of the prince. - -The fire however expired, and the grey light of the morning was -beginning to spread more and more over the scene, when De Coucy turned -his rein, and, skirting round the little birch wood we have mentioned, -at last endeavoured to force his way through the iron toils that were -spread around him. To the right, as he wheeled round the wood, the -early light showed the strong body of cavalry Lord Pembroke had thrown -forward. On his left now lay the castle, and straight before him a -body of archers that had issued from thence with the earl of Salisbury -and half a dozen knights at their head. De Coucy hesitated not a -moment, but laid his lance in the rest, and galloped forward to the -attack of the latter at full speed. - -One of the knights rode out before the rest to meet him, but went -down, horse and man, before his spear, and rolled on the plain, with -the iron of the lance broken off deep in his breast. On spurred De -Coucy, swinging his battle-axe over the head of a Norman who followed, -when his horse, unfortunately, set his foot on the carcase of the -fallen man--slipped--fell irrecoverably, and the knight was hurled to -the ground. - -He sprang on his feet, however, in a moment, and, catching the bridle -of Lord Salisbury's horse, dashed the iron chamfron to atoms with his -battle-axe, and hurled the animal reeling on his haunches. The earl -spurred up his charger. "Yield! yield! De Coucy!" cried he;--"Good -treatment! Fair ransom! William's friendship! Yield you, or you die!" - -"Never!" exclaimed De Coucy, turning; and at a single blow striking -down a man on foot that pressed upon him behind;--"never will I be -John of England's prisoner!" - -"Be Salisbury's!--be William Longsword's!" shouted the earl loudly, -eager to save his noble foe from the lances that were now bearing him -down on all sides. But De Coucy still raged like a lion in the toils; -and, alone in the midst of his enemies--for the ranks had closed round -and cut him off even from the aid of his little band--he continued for -many minutes to struggle with a host, displaying that fearful courage -which gained him a name throughout all Europe. - -At length, however, while pressed upon in front by three lances, a -powerful man-at-arms behind him raised above his head a mace that -would have felled Goliah. The knight turned his head; but to parry it -was impossible, for both his sword and shield arms were busy in -defending himself from the spears of the enemy in front; and he must -have gone down before the blow like a felled ox, had not Lord -Salisbury sprung to the ground, and interposed the shield, which hung -round his own neck, in a slanting direction between the tremendous -mace and De Coucy's helmet. The blow however fell; and, though turned -aside by William Longsword's treble target, its descent drove the -earl's arm down upon De Coucy's head, and made them both stagger. - -"Salisbury, I yield me!" cried De Coucy, dropping his battle-axe: -"rescue or no rescue, generous enemy, I am thy true prisoner; and -thereunto I give thee my faith. But, as thou art a knight and a noble, -yield me not to thy bad brother John. We know too well how he treats -his prisoners." - -"Salisbury's honour for your surety, brave De Coucy!" replied the -earl, clasping him in his mailed arms, and giving a friendly shake, as -if in reproach for the long-protracted struggle he had maintained. "By -the Lord! old friend, when you fought by my side in Palestine, you -were but a whelp, where you are now a lion! But know ye not yet, the -town has been in our hands this hour, and my fair nephew Arthur taken -in his bed, with all the wild revellers of Poitou, as full of wine as -leathern bottles?" - -"Alas! I fear for the prince!" cried De Coucy, "in his bad uncle's -hands." - -"Hush! hush!" replied Salisbury. "John is my brother, though I be but -a bastard. He has pledged his word too, I hear, to treat his nephew -nobly. So let us to the town, where we shall hear more. In the mean -while, however, let me send to the earl of Pembroke; for, by the -man[oe]uvres he is making, he seems as ignorant of what has taken -place in the town, as you were. Now let us on." - - - - -CHAPTER XII. - - -We must change the scene once more, and return to the palace of Philip -Augustus. The whirlwind of passion had passed by; but the deep pangs -of disappointed expectation, with a long train of gloomy suspicions -and painful anticipations, swelled in the bosom of the monarch, like -those heavy, sweeping billows which a storm leaves behind on the -long-agitated sea. - -Philip Augustus slowly mounted the stairs of the great keep of the -castle, pausing at every two or three steps, as if even the attention -necessary to raise his foot from the one grade to the other -interrupted the deep current of his thoughts. So profound, indeed, -were those thoughts, that he never even remarked the presence of -Guerin, till at length, at the very door of the queen's apartments, -the minister beseeched him to collect himself. - -"Remember, sire," said the bishop, "that no point of the lady's -conduct is reproachable; and, for Heaven's sake! yield not your noble -mind to any fit of passion that you may repent of hereafter." - -"Fear not, Guerin," replied the king: "I am as cool as snow;" and -opening the door, he pushed aside the tapestry and entered. - -Agnes had heard the step, but it was so different from her husband's -general pace, that she had not believed it to be his. When she beheld -him, however, a glow of bright, unspeakable joy, which in itself might -have convinced the most suspicious, spread over her countenance. - -Philip was not proof against it; and as she sprang forward to meet -him, he kissed her cheek, and pressed her in the wonted embrace. But -there is nought so pertinacious on earth as suspicion. 'Tis the -fiend's best, most persevering servant. Cast it from us with what -force we will--crush it under what weight of reasoning we may, once -born in the human heart, it still rises on its invisible ladder, and -squeezes its little drop of corroding poison into every cup we drink. - -The queen's women left the room, and Philip sat down by the embroidery -frame where Agnes had been working before she went out. He still held -her hand in his, as she stood beside him; but fixing his eyes upon the -embroidery, he was in a moment again lost in painful thought, though -his hand every now and then contracted on the small fingers they -grasped, with a sort of habitual fondness. - -Agnes was surprised and pained at this unwonted mood; and yet she -would not deem it coldness, or say one word that might irritate her -husband's mind; so that for long she left him to think in silence, -seeing that something most agonising must evidently have happened, so -to absorb his ideas, even beside her. - -At length, however, without making a motion to withdraw her hand, she -sunk slowly down upon her knees beside him; and, gazing up in his -face, she asked, "Do you not love me, Philip?" in a low, sweet tone, -that vibrated through his soul to all the gentler and dearer feelings -of his heart. - -"Love you, Agnes!" cried he, throwing his arms round her beautiful -form, and pressing kiss upon kiss on her lips--"love you! Oh God! how -deeply!" He gazed on her face for a moment or two, with one of those -long, straining, wistful glances that we sometimes give to the dead; -then, starting up, he paced the room for several minutes, murmuring -some indistinct words to himself, till at length his steps grew slower -again, his lips ceased to move, and he once more fell into deep -meditation. - -Agnes rose, and, advancing towards him, laid her hand affectionately -upon his arm, "Calm yourself, Philip. Come and sit down again, and -tell your Agnes what has disturbed you. Calm yourself, beloved! Oh, -calm yourself!" - -"Calm, madam!" said the king, turning towards her with an air of cold -abstraction. "How would you have me calm?" - -Agnes let her hand drop from his arm; and, returning to her seat, she -bent her head down and wept silently. - -Philip took another turn in the chamber, during which he twice turned -his eyes upon the figure of his wife--then advanced towards her, and -leaning down, cast his arm over her neck. "Weep not, dear Agnes," he -said,--"weep not; I have many things to agitate and distress me. You -must bear with me, and let my humour have its way." - -Agnes looked up, and kissed the lips that spoke to her, through her -tears. She asked no questions, however, lest she might recall whatever -was painful to her husband's mind. Philip, too, glanced not for a -moment towards the real cause of his agitation. There was something so -pure, so tender, so beautiful, in the whole conduct and demeanour of -his wife--so full of the same affection towards him that he felt -towards her--so unmixed with the least touch of that constraint that -might make her love doubted, that his suspicions stood reproved, and -though they rankled still, he dared not own them. - -"Can it be only a feeling of cold duty binds her to me thus?" he asked -himself; "she cited nought else to support her resolution of not -flying with that pale seducer, D'Auvergne; and yet, see how she -strives for my affection! how she seems to fix her whole hopes upon -it!--how to see it shaken agitates her!" - -The fiend had his answer ready. It might be pride--the fear of -sinking from the queen of a great kingdom, back into the daughter -of a petty prince. It might be vanity--which would be painfully -wrung to leave splendour, and riches, and admiration of a world, to -become--what?--what _had been_ the wife of a great king--a lonely, -unnoticed outcast from her _once husband's_ kingdom. Still, he thought -it was impossible. She had never loved splendour--she had never sought -admiration. Her delights had been with him alone, in sports and -amusements that might be tasted, with any one beloved, even in the -lowest station. It was impossible;--and yet it rankled. He felt he -wronged her. He was ashamed of it;--and yet those thoughts rankled! -Memory, too, dwelt with painful accuracy upon those words he had -overheard,--_notwithstanding her own feelings, she would not quit -him!_--and imagination, with more skill than the best sophist of the -court of Cr[oe]sus, drew therefrom matter to basis a thousand painful -doubts. - -As thus he thought, he cast himself again into the seat before the -frame; and his mind being well prepared for every bitter and sorrowful -idea, he gave himself up to the gloomy train of fancies that pressed -on him on every side: the revolt of his barons--the disaffection of -his allies--the falling off of his friends--the exhaustion of his -finances--and last, not least, that dreadful interdict, that cut his -kingdom off from the Christian world, and made it like a lazar house. -He resolved all the horrible proofs of the papal power, that he had -seen on his way: the young, the old, clinging to his stirrup and -praying relief--the dead, the dying, exposed by the road-side to catch -his eye--the gloomy silence of the cities and the fields--the -deathlike void of all accustomed sounds, that spread around his path -wherever he turned:--he thought over them all; and, as he thought, he -almost unconsciously took up the chalk wherewith Agnes had been -tracing the figures on her embroidery, and slowly scrawled upon the -edge of the frame, "_Interdict! Interdict!_" - -She had watched his motions as a mother watches those of her sick -child; but when she read the letters he had written, a faint cry broke -from her lips, and she became deadly pale. The conviction that -Philip's resolution was shaken by the thunders of the Roman church -took full possession of her mind, and she saw that the moment was -arrived for her to make her own peace the sacrifice for his. She felt -her fate sealed,--she felt her heart broken; and though she had often, -often contemplated the chances of such a moment, how trifling, how -weak had been the very worst dreams of her imagination to the agony of -the reality! - -She repressed the cry, however, already half uttered; and rising from -her seat with her determination fixed, and her mind made up to the -worst evil that fate could inflict, she kneeled down at the king's -feet, and, raising her eyes to his, "My lord," she said, "the time is -come for making you a request that I am sure you will not refuse. -Your own repose, your kingdom's welfare, and the church's peace -require--all and each--that you should consent to part from one who -has been too long an object of painful contest. Till I thought that -the opinion of your prelates and your peers had gained over your will -to such a separation, I never dared, my noble lord, even to think -thereof; but now you are doubtless convinced that it must be so; and -all I have to beg is, that you would give me sufficient guard and -escort, to conduct me safely to my father's arms; and that you would -sometimes think with tenderness of one who has loved you well." - -Agnes spoke as calmly as if she had asked some simple boon. Her voice -was low but clear; and the only thing that could betray agitation, was -the excessive rapidity of her utterance, seeming as if she doubted her -own powers to bring her request to an end. - -Philip gazed upon her with a glance of agony and surprise, that were -painful even to behold. His cheek was as pale as death; but his brow -was flushed and red; and as she proceeded, the drops of agony stood -upon his temples. When she had done, he strove to speak, but no voice -answered his will; and after gasping as for breath, he started up, -exclaimed with great effort, "Oh, Agnes!" and darted out of the -chamber. - -At ten paces' distance from the door stood Guerin, as if in -expectation of the king's return. Philip caught him by the arm, and, -scarcely conscious of what he did, pointed wildly with the other hand -to the door of the queen's apartments. - -"Good God! my lord," cried the minister, well knowing the violent -nature of his master's passion. "In Heaven's name! what have you -done?" - -"Done! done!" cried the monarch. "Done! She loves me not, Guerin! She -seeks to quit me. She loves me not, I say! She loves me not! I, that -would have sacrificed my soul for her! I, that would have abjured the -cross--embraced the crescent--desolated Europe--died myself, for her. -She seeks to leave me! Oh, madness and fury!" and clenching his hands, -he stamped with his armed heel upon the ground, till the vaulted roofs -of the keep echoed and re-echoed to the sound. - -"Oh! my lord! be calm, in Heaven's name!" cried Guerin. "Speak not -such wild and daring words! Remember, though you be a king, there is a -King still higher; who perhaps even now chastens you for resisting his -high will." - -"Away!" cried the king. "School not me, sir bishop! I tell thee, there -is worse hell _here_, than if there had never been heaven;" and he -struck his hand upon his mailed breast with fury, indeed almost -approaching to insanity. "Oh, Guerin, Guerin!" he cried again, after a -moment's pause, "she would leave me! Did you hear? She would leave -me!" - -"Let me beseech you, sire," said the minister once more. "Compose -yourself, and, as a wise and good prince, let the discomfort and -misery that Heaven has sent to yourself, at least be turned to your -people's good; and, by so doing, be sure that you will merit of Heaven -some consolation." - -"Consolation!" said the monarch mournfully. "Oh, my friend, what -consolation can I have? She loves me not, Guerin! She seeks to quit -me! What consolation can I have under that?" - -"At least the consolation, sire, of relieving and restoring happiness -to your distressed people," answered the minister. "The queen herself -seeks to quit you, sire. The queen herself prays you to yield to the -authority of the church. After that, you will surely never think of -detaining her against her will. It would be an impious rebellion -against a special manifestation of Heaven's commands; for sure I am -that nothing but the express conviction that it is God's will would -have induced the princess to express such a desire as you have vaguely -mentioned." - -"Do you think so, Guerin?" demanded Philip, musing--"do you think so? -But no, no! She would never quit me if she loved me?" - -"Her love for you, my lord, may be suspended by the will of Heaven," -replied the minister; "for surely she never showed want of love -towards you till now. Yield then, my lord, to the will of the Most -High. Let the queen depart; and, indeed, by so doing, I believe that -even your own fondest hopes may be gratified. Our holy father the -pope, you know, would not even hear the question of divorce tried, -till you should show your obedience to the church by separating from -the queen. When you have done so, he has pledged himself to examine it -in the true apostolic spirit; and doubtless he will come to the same -decision as your bishops of France had done before. Free from all -ties, you may then recall the queen----" - -"But her love!" interrupted Philip,--"can I ever recall her love?" - -"If it be by the will of Heaven," replied Guerin, "that she seeks to -leave you, her love for you, my lord, will not be lost, but increased -a thousand fold when Heaven's blessing sanctions it: and the pope----" - -"Curses upon his head!" thundered Philip, bursting forth into a new -frenzy of passion,--"may pride and ambition be a curse on him and his -successors for ever! May they grasp at the power of others, till they -lose their own! May nation after nation cast off their sway! and itch -of dominion, with impotence of means, be their damnation for ever! Now -I have given him back his curse--say, what of him?" - -"Nothing, my lord," replied Guerin; "but, that the only means to make -him consent to your union with the princess is to part with her for a -time. Oh, my lord! if you have not already consented,--consent, I -beseech you: she prays it herself. Do not refuse her--your kingdom -requires it: have compassion upon it. Your own honour is implicated; -for your barons rebel, and you never can chastise them while the whole -realm is bound to their cause by the strong bond of mutual distress." - -"Chastise them!" said Philip thoughtfully, pausing on the ideas the -minister had suggested. Then suddenly he turned to Guerin with his -brow knit, and his cheek flushed, as if with the struggle of some new -resolution. "Be it so, Guerin!" cried he,--"be it so! The interdict -shall be raised--I will take them one by one--I will cut them into -chaff, and scatter them to the wind--I will be king of France indeed! -and if, in the mean while, this proud prelate yields me my wife--my -own beloved wife--why, well; but if he dares then refuse his sanction, -when I have bowed my rebellious subjects, his seat is but a frail one; -for I will march on Rome, and hurl him from his chair, and send him -forth to tread the sands of Palestine.--But stay, Guerin. Think you, -that on examination he will confirm the bishops' decree, if I yield -for the time?" - -"I trust he will, my lord," replied the minister. "May I tell the -queen you grant her request?" he added, eager to urge Philip's -indecision into the irrevocable. - -"Yes!" said the monarch, "yes!--Yet stay, Guerin,--stay!" and he fell -into thought again; when suddenly some one, mounting the steps like -lightning, approached the little vestibule where they stood. "Ha! have -you taken the count D'Auvergne?" cried the king, seeing one of his -serjeants-of-arms--his eyes flashing at the same time with all their -former fury. - -"No, my lord," replied the man: "he has not yet been heard of; but a -messenger, in breathless haste, from the bishop of Tours, brings you -this packet, sire. He says, prince Arthur is taken," added the -serjeant. - -"Avert it, Heaven!" exclaimed Philip, tearing open the despatch. "Too -true! too true!" he added: "and the people of Poitou in revolt! laying -the misfortune to our door, for resisting the interdict. Oh, Guerin! -it must be done--it must be done! The interdict must be raised, or all -is lost.--Begone, fellow! leave us!" he exclaimed, turning to the -serjeant, who tarried for no second command. Then, pacing up and down -for an instant, with his eyes bent on the ground, the king repeated -more than once:--"She seeks to leave me! she spoke of it as calmly as -a hermit tells his beads. She loves me not!--Too true, she loves me -not!" - -"May I announce your will in this respect, my lord? demanded Guerin, -as the king paused and pondered bitterly over all that had passed. - -"Ask me not, good friend!--ask me not!" replied the king, turning away -his head, as if to avoid facing the act to which his minister urged -him, "Ask me not. Do what thou wilt; there is my signet,--use it -wisely; but tear not my heart, by asking commands I cannot utter." - -Thus speaking, the king drew his private seal from his finger, and -placing it in Guerin's hand, turned away; and, with a quick but -irregular step, descended the staircase, passed through the gardens, -and issuing out by the postern gate, plunged into the very heart of -the forest. - -Guerin paused to collect his thoughts, scarcely believing the victory -that had been obtained; so little had he expected it in the morning. -He then approached the door of the queen's apartments, and knocked -gently for admittance. At first it passed unnoticed, but on repeating -it somewhat louder, one of Agnes's women presented herself, with a -face of ashy paleness, while another looked over her shoulder. - -"Enter, my lord bishop, enter!" said the second in a low voice. "Thank -God, you are come! We know not what has so struck the queen; but she -is very ill. She speaks not; she raises not her head; and yet by her -sobbing 'tis clear she has not fainted. See where she lies!" - -Guerin entered. From Philip's account, he had thought to find the -queen with a mind composed and made up to her fortunes; but a sadly -different scene presented itself. Agnes had apparently, the moment her -husband had left her, caught down the crucifix from a little moveable -oratory which stood in the room, and throwing herself on her knees -before one of the seats, had been seeking consolation in prayer. The -emotions which crossed her address to Heaven may easily be conceived; -and so powerfully had they worked, that, overcoming all other -thoughts, they seemed to have swept hope and trust, even in the -Almighty, away before them, and dashed the unhappy girl to the ground -like a stricken flower. Her head and whole person had fallen forward -on the cushion of the seat, before which she had been kneeling. Her -face was resting partly on her hands, and partly on the cross, which -they clasped, and which was deluged with her tears; while a succession -of short convulsive sobs was all that announced her to be amongst the -living. - -"Has she not spoken since the king left her?" demanded Guerin, both -alarmed and shocked. - -"Not a word, sir," replied her principal attendant. "We heard her move -once, after the king's voice ceased; and then came a dead silence: so -we ventured to come in, lest she should have fallen into one of those -swoons which have afflicted her ever since the tournament of the -Champeaux. We have striven to raise her, and to draw some word from -her; but she lies there, and sobs, and answers nothing." - -"Send for Rigord the leech," said Guerin; "I saw him in the hall:" and -then approaching Agnes, with a heart deeply touched with the sorrow he -beheld, "Grieve not so, lady," he said in a kindly voice; "I trust -that this will not be so heavy a burden as you think: I doubt -not--indeed I doubt not, that a short separation from your royal -husband will be all that you will have to bear. The king having once, -by your good counsel, submitted his cause to the trial of the holy -church, our good father, the pope, will doubtless judge mildly, and -soon restore to him the treasure he has lost. Bear up, then, sweet -lady, bear up! and be sure that wherever you go, the blessings of a -whole nation, which your self-devotion has saved from civil war and -misery of every kind, will follow your footsteps, and smooth your -way." - -It was impossible to say whether Agnes heard him or not; but the words -of comfort which the good bishop proffered produced no effect. She -remained with her face still leaning on the cross, and a quick -succession of convulsive sobs was her only reply. Guerin saw that all -farther attempt to communicate with her in any way would be vain for -the time; and he only waited the arrival of the leech to leave the -apartment. - -Rigord, who acted both as physician and historian to Philip Augustus, -instantly followed the queen's attendant, who had been despatched to -seek him; and, after having received a promise from him to bring -intelligence of the queen's real state, the minister retired to his -own chamber, and hastened to render Philip's resolution irrevocable, -by writing that letter of submission to the holy see, which speedily -raised the interdict from France. - - - - -CHAPTER XIII. - - -Black and gloomy silence reigned through the old château of Compiègne, -during the two days that followed the queen's determination to depart. -All Philip's military operations were neglected--all the affairs of -his immediate government were forgotten, and his hours passed in -wandering alone in the forest, or in pacing his chamber with agitated -and uncertain steps. - -The thoughts and feelings that filled those hours, however, though all -painful, were of a mixed and irregular character. Sometimes, it was -the indignant swelling of a proud and imperious heart against the -usurped power that snatched from it its brightest hopes. Sometimes, it -was the thrilling agony of parting from all he loved. Sometimes, it -was the burning thirst for vengeance, both on the head of him who had -caused the misery, and of those who, by their falling off in time of -need, had left him to bear it alone; and, sometimes, it was the -shadowy doubts and suspicions of awakened jealousy, throwing all into -darkness and gloom. Still, however, the deep, the passionate love -remained; and to it clung the faint hope of rewinning the treasure he -sacrificed for a time. - -Thus, as he strode along the paths of the forest, with his arms -crossed upon his broad chest, he sketched out the stern but vast plan -of crushing his rebellious barons piecemeal, as soon as ever the -interdict--that fatal bond of union amongst them--should be broken. He -carried his glance, too, still farther into the future; and saw many a -rising coalition against him in Europe, fomented and supported by the -church of Rome; and firm in his own vigorous talent, it was with a -sort of joy that he contemplated their coming, as the means whereby he -would avenge the indignity he had suffered from the Roman see, crush -his enemies, punish his disobedient vassals, and, extending his -dominion to the infinite of hope, would hold Agnes once more to his -heart, and dare the whole world to snatch her thence again. - -Such were the thoughts of Philip Augustus, so mingled of many -passions--ambition--love--revenge. Each in its turn using as its -servant a great and powerful mind, and all bringing about--for with -such opposite agents does Heaven still work its high will--all -bringing about great changes to the world at large; revolutions in -thoughts, in feelings, and in manners; the fall of systems, and the -advance of the human mind. - -Were we of those who love to view agony with a microscope, we would -try equally to display the feelings of Agnes de Meranie, while, with -crushed joys, blighted hopes, and a broken heart, she prepared for the -journey that was to separate her for ever from him she loved best on -earth. - -It would be too painful a picture, however, either to draw or to -examine. Suffice it, then, that, recovered from the sort of stupor -into which she had fallen after the efforts which had been called -forth by Philip's presence, she sat in calm dejected silence; while -her women, informed of her decision, made the necessary arrangements -for her departure. If she spoke at all, it was but to direct care to -be taken of each particular object, which might recall to her -afterwards the few bright hours she had so deeply enjoyed. 'Twas now -an ornament,--'twas now some piece of her dress, either given her by -her husband, or worn on some day of peculiar happiness, which called -her notice; and, as a traveller, forced to leave some bright land that -he may never see again, carries away with him a thousand views and -charts, to aid remembrance in after-years, poor Agnes was anxious to -secure, alone, all that could lead memory back to the joys that she -was quitting for ever. To each little trinket there was some memory -affixed; and to her heart they were relics, as holy as ever lay upon -shrine or altar. - -It was on the second morning after her resolution had been taken, and -with a sad haste, springing from the consciousness of failing powers, -she was hurrying on her preparations, when she was informed that the -chancellor, Guerin, desired a few minutes' audience. She would fain -have shrunk from it; for, though she revered the minister for his -undoubted integrity, and his devotion to her husband, yet, it had so -happened that Guerin had almost always been called on to speak with -her for the purpose of communicating some painful news, or urging some -bitter duty. The impression he had left on her mind, therefore, was -aught but pleasant; and, though she esteemed him much, she loved not -his society. She was of too gentle a nature, however, to permit a -feeling so painful to its object to be seen for a moment, even now -that the minister's good word or bad could serve her nothing; and she -desired him to be admitted immediately. - -The havoc that a few hours had worked on a face which was once the -perfection of earthly beauty struck even the minister, unobservant as -he was in general of things so foreign to his calling. As he remarked -it, he made a sudden pause in his advance; and looking up with a faint -smile, more sad, more melancholy than even tears, Agnes shook her -head, saving mildly, as a comment on his surprise-- - -"It cannot be, lord bishop, that any one should suffer as I have -suffered, and not let the traces shine out. But you are welcome, my -lord. How fares it with my noble lord--my husband, the king? He has -not come to me since yester-morning; and yet, methinks, we might have -better borne these wretched two days together than apart. We might -have fortified each other's resolution with strong words. We might -have shown each other, that what it was right to do, it was right to -do firmly." - -"The king, madam," replied Guerin, "has scarcely been in a state to -see any one. I have been thrice refused admittance, though my plea was -urgent business of the state. He has been totally alone, till within -the last few minutes." - -"Poor Philip!" exclaimed Agnes, the tears, in spite of every effort, -swelling in her eyes, and rolling over her fair pale cheek. "Poor -Philip! And did he think his Agnes would have tried to shake the -resolution which cost him such pangs to maintain? Oh, no! She would -have aided him to fix it, and to bear it." - -"He feared not your constancy, lady," replied the bishop of Senlis. -"He feared his own. I have heard that fortitude is a woman's virtue; -and, in truth, I now believe it. But I must do my errand; for, in -faith, lady, I cannot see you weep:"--and the good minister wiped a -bright drop from his own clear, cold eye. "Having at last seen the -king," he proceeded, "he has commanded me to take strict care that all -the attendants you please to name should accompany you; that your -household expenses should be charged upon his domains, as that of the -queen of France; and having, from all things, good hope that the pope, -satisfied with this submission to his authority, will proceed -immediately to verify the divorce pronounced by the bishops, so that -your separation may be short--" - -"Ha! What?" exclaimed Agnes, starting up, and catching the bishop's -arm with both her hands, while she gazed in his face with a look of -thunderstruck, incredulous astonishment--"What is it you say? Is there -a chance--is there a hope--is there a possibility that I may see him -again--that I may clasp his hand--that I may rest on his bosom once -more? O God! O God! blessed be thy holy name!" and falling on her -knees, she turned her beautiful eyes to heaven; while, clasping her -fair hands, and raising them also, trembling with emotion, towards the -sky, her lips moved silently, but rapidly, in grateful, enthusiastic -thanksgiving. - -"But, oh!" she cried, starting up, and fixing her eager glance upon -the minister, "as you are a churchman, as you are a knight, as you are -a man! do not deceive me! Is there a hope--is there even a remote -hope? Does Philip think there is a hope? - -"It appears to me, lady," replied the minister,--"and for no earthly -consideration would I deceive you,--that there is every cause to hope. -Our holy father the pope would not take the matter of the king's -divorce even into consideration, till the monarch submitted to the -decision of the church of Rome, which, he declared, was alone -competent to decide upon the question,--a right which the bishops of -France, he said, had arrogated unjustly to themselves." - -"And did he," exclaimed Agnes solemnly--"did he cast his curse upon -this whole country--spread misery, desolation, and sorrow over the -nation--stir up civil war and rebellion, and tear two hearts asunder -that loved each other so devotedly, for the empty right to judge a -cause that had been already judged, and do away a sentence which he -knew not whether it was right or wrong?--and is this the -representative of Christ's apostle?" - -"'Tis even as you say, lady, I am afraid," replied the minister. "But -even suppose his conduct to proceed from pride and arrogance,--which -Heaven forbid that I should insinuate!--our hope would be but -strengthened by such an opinion. For, contented with having -established his right and enforced his will, he will of course -commission a council to inquire into the cause, and decide according -to their good judgment. What that decision will be, is only known on -high; but as many prelates of France will of course sit in that -council, it is not likely that they will consent to reverse their own -judgment." - -"And what thinks the king?" demanded Agnes thoughtfully. - -"No stronger proof, lady, can be given, that he thinks as I do," -replied Guerin, "than his determination that you should never be far -from him; so that, as soon as the papal decision shall be announced in -his favour, he may fly to reunite himself to her he will ever look -upon as his lawful wife. He begs, madam, that you would name that -royal château which you would desire for your residence--" - -"Then I am not to quit France!" cried Agnes, hope and joy once more -beaming up in her eyes. "I am not to put wide, foreign lands between -us, and the journey of many a weary day! Oh! 'tis too much! 'tis too -much!" and sinking back into the chair where she had been sitting -before the minister's entrance, she covered her eyes with her hands, -and let the struggle between joy and sorrow flow gently away in tears. - -Guerin made a movement as if to withdraw; but the queen raised her -hand, and stopped him. "Stay, my lord bishop, stay!" she said--"These -are tears such as I have not shed for long; and there is in them a -balmy quality that will soothe many of the wounds in my heart. Before -you go, I must render some reply to my dear lord's message. Tell him, -as my whole joy in life has been to be with him, so my only earthly -hope is to rejoin him soon. Thank him for all the blessed comfort he -has sent me by your lips; and say to him that it has snatched his -Agnes from the brink of despair. Say, moreover, that I would fain, -fain see him, if it will not pain him too deeply, before I take my -departure from the halls where I have known so much happiness. But bid -him not, on that account, to give his heart one pang to solace mine. -And now, my lord, I will choose my residence. Let me see. I will not -say Compiègne! for, though I love it well, and have here many a dear -memory, yet, I know, Philip loves it too; and I would that he should -often inhabit some place that is full of remembrances of me. But there -is a castle on the woody hill above Mantes where once, in the earliest -days of our marriage, we spent a pleasant month. It shall be my -widow's portion, till I see my lord again. Oh! why, why, why must we -part at all? But no!" she added more firmly, "it is doubtless right -that it should be so: and, if we may thus buy for our fate the blessed -certainty of never parting again, I will not think--I will try not to -think--the price too dear." - -"Perhaps, madam, if I might venture to advise," said the minister, -"the interview you desire with the king would take place the last -thing before your departure." - -Agnes drooped her head. "My departure!" said she mournfullyeg. "True! -'twill be but one pain for all. I have ordered my departure for this -evening, because I thought that the sooner I were gone, the sooner -would the pain be over for Philip; but oh, lord bishop, you know not -what it is to take such a resolution of departure--to cut short, even -by one brief minute, that fond lingering with which we cling to all -the loved objects that have surrounded us in happiness. But it is -right to do it, and it shall be done: my litter shall be here an hour -before supper; what guards you and the king think necessary to escort -me, I will beg you to command at the hour of three. But I hope," she -added, in an almost imploring tone,--"I hope I shall see my husband -before I go?" - -"Doubt it not, madam," said Guerin: "I have but to express your -desire. Could I but serve you farther?" - -"In nothing, my good lord," replied the queen, "but in watching over -the king like a father. Soothe his ruffled mood; calm his hurt mind; -teach him not to forget Agnes, but to bear her absence with more -fortitude than she can bear his. And now, my lord," she added, wiping -the tears once more from her eyes, "I will go and pray, against that -dreadful hour. I have need of help, but Heaven will give it me; and if -ever woman's heart broke in silence, it shall be mine this night." - -Guerin took his leave and withdrew; and, proceeding to the cabinet of -Philip Augustus, gave him such an account of his conversation with the -queen, as he thought might soothe and console him, without shaking his -resolution of parting from her, at least for a time. Philip listened, -at first, in gloomy silence; but, as every now and then, through the -dry account given by his plain minister, shone out some touch of the -deep affection borne him by his wife, a shade passed away from his -brow, and he would exclaim, "Ha! said she so? Angel! Oh, Guerin, she -is an angel!" Then starting up, struck by some sudden impulse, he -paced the room with hasty and irregular steps. - -"A villain!" cried he at length--"a villain!--Thibalt d'Auvergne, -beware thy head!--By the blessed rood! Guerin, If I lay my hands upon -him, I will cut his false heart from his mischief-devising breast! -Fiend! fiend! to strive to rob me of an angel's love like that! He has -fled me, Guerin!--he has fled me for the time. You have doubtless -heard, within five minutes, he and his train had left the town behind -him. 'Twas the consciousness of villany drove him to flight. But I -will find him, if I seek him in the heart of Africa! The world shall -not hold us two." - -Guerin strove to calm the mind of the king, but it was in vain; and, -till the hour approached for the departure of Agnes from the castle, -Philip spent the time either in breathing vows of vengeance against -his adversaries, or in pacing up and down, and thinking, with a wrung -and agonised heart, over the dreadful moment before him. At length he -could bear it no longer; and, throwing open the door of his cabinet, -he walked hastily towards the queen's apartments. Guerin followed, for -a few paces, knowing that the critical moment was arrived when France -was to be saved or lost--doubting the resolution of both Agnes and -Philip, and himself uncertain how to act. - -But before Philip had passed through the corridor, he turned to the -minister, and, holding up his hand, with an air of stern majesty he -said, "Alone, Guerin! I must be alone! At three, warn me!" and he -pursued his way to the queen's apartment. - -The next hour we must pass over in silence; for no one was witness to -a scene that required almost more than mortal fortitude to support. At -three, the queen's litter was in the castle court, the serjeants of -arms mounted to attend her, and the horses of her ladies held ready to -set out. With a heart beating with stronger emotions than had ever -agitated it in the face of adverse hosts, Guerin approached the -apartments of Agnes de Meranie. He opened the door, but paused without -pushing aside the tapestry, saying, "My lord!" - -"Come in," replied Philip, in a voice of thunder; and Guerin, -entering, beheld him standing in the midst of the floor with Agnes -clinging to him, fair, frail, and faint, with her arms twined round -his powerful frame, like the ivy clinging round some tall oak agitated -by a storm. The kings face was heated, his eyes were red, and the -veins of his temples were swelled almost to bursting. "She shall not -go!" cried he, as Guerin entered, in a voice both raised and shaken by -the extremity of his feelings--"By the Lord of heaven! she shall not -go!" - -There was energy in his tone, almost to madness; and Guerin stood -silent, seeing all that he had laboured to bring about swept away in -that moment. But Agnes slowly withdrew her arms from the king, raised -her weeping face from his bosom, clasped her hands together, and gazed -on him for a moment with a glance of deep and agonised feeling--then -said, in a low but resolute voice, "Philip, it must be done! Farewell, -beloved! farewell!" and, running forward towards the door, she took -the arm of one of her women, to support her from the chamber. - -Before she could go, however, Philip caught her again in his arms, and -pressed kiss after kiss upon her lips and cheek. "Help me! help me!" -said Agnes, and two of her women, gently disengaging her from the -king's embrace, half bore, half carried her down the stairs, and, -raising her into the litter, drew its curtains round, and veiled her -farther sorrows from all other eyes. - -When she was gone, Philip stood for a moment gazing, as it were, on -vacancy--twice raised his hand to his head--made a step or two towards -the door--reeled--staggered--and fell heavily on the floor, with the -blood gushing from his mouth and nostrils. - - - -END OF THE SECOND VOLUME. - - - - - - -VOLUME THE THIRD. - - - - -CHAPTER I. - - -The Count d'Auvergne left Agnes de Meranie, with his mind stretched to -the highest point of excitement. For months and months he had been -dwelling on the thoughts of that one moment. In the midst of other -scenes and circumstances, his soul had been abstracted and busy with -the anticipations of that hour. His whole powers and energies had been -wrought up to bear it firmly and calmly. And now he had accomplished -his task. It was done! he had seen, he had met the object of his -young, deep, all-absorbing affection--the object of all his regrets, -the undesigning cause of all his misery--he had seen her the wife of -another--he had seen her in sorrow and distress--he had helped even to -tear her heart, by pressing on her a separation from the man she -loved. He had marked every touch of her strong affection for Philip. -He had felt every cold and chilling word she had addressed to himself, -and yet he had borne it calmly--firmly, at least. Like the Indian -savage, he had endured the fire and the torture without a sign of -suffering; but still the fire and the torture had done their work upon -his corporeal frame. - -The words in the letter, presented to him by De Coucy's page, swam -dizzily before his eyes, without conveying their defined meaning to -his senses. He saw that it was some new pang--he saw that it was some -fresh misfortune; but reason reeled upon her throne, and he could not -sufficiently fix his mind to gather what was the precise nature of the -tidings he received. He bade the page follow, however, in a hurried -and confused tone, and passed rapidly on through the castle hall into -the town, and to the lodging where he had left his retainers. His -horse stood saddled in the court, and all seemed prepared for -departure; and without well knowing why, but with the mere indistinct -desire of flying from the sorrows that pursued him, he mounted his -horse and turned him to the road. - -"Shall we follow, my lord?" demanded his squire, running at his bridle -as he rode forward. - -"Ha?--Yes!--Follow!" replied the count, and galloped on with the -letter the page had given him still in his hand. He rode on with the -swiftness of the wind; whenever his horse made the least pause, urging -him forward with the spur, as if a moment's cessation of his rapid -pace gave him up again to the dark and gloomy thoughts that pursued -him like fierce and winged fiends. - -Still, his long habit of commanding his feelings struggled for its -ancient power. He felt that his mind was overcome, and he strove to -raise it up again. He endeavoured to recall his stoical firmness; he -tried to reason upon his own weakness; but the object to which he had -bent all his thoughts was accomplished--the motive for his endurance -was over, his firmness was gone, and reason hovered vaguely round each -subject that was presented to her, without grasping it decidedly. -During the last two years, he had raised up, as it were, a strong -embankment in his own mind against the flood of his sorrows, he had -fortified it with every power of a firm and vigorous intellect; but -the torrent had swelled by degrees, till its force became resistless; -and now it bore away every barrier, with destruction the more fearful -from the opposition it had encountered. - -He rode on. The day was burning and oppressive. The hot mid-day sun -struck scorching on its brow, and his eyes became wild and bloodshot; -but still he rode on, as if he felt in no degree anything that passed -without the dark chamber of his own bosom. De Coucy's page had -hastened for his horse when he found the count about to depart, and -had galloped after. Seeing at length that his thoughts were occupied -in other matters, and that he held the letter he had received, crushed -together in his hand, Ermold De Marcy made bold to spur forward his -weary beast, and approaching D'Auvergne to say, "Is there any hope, my -lord, of your being able, in this matter, to relieve sir Guy?" - -"Sir Guy!" cried D'Auvergne, suddenly checking his horse in full -career, and gazing in the page's face with an anxious, thoughtful -look, as if he strove with effort to recollect his ideas, and fix them -on the subject brought before him--"Sir Guy! What of sir Guy! Who is -sir Guy?" - -"Do you not remember me, beau sire?" asked the page, astonished at the -wild, unsettled look of a man whose fixed, stern, immoveable coldness -of expression had often been a matter of wonder to the light, volatile -youth, whose own thoughts and feelings changed full fifty times a -day--"do you know me, beau sire?" he asked. "I am Ermold de Marcy, the -page of sir Guy de Coucy, who now lies in English bonds, as that -letter informs you." - -"De Coucy in bonds!" cried the count, starting. Then, after gazing for -a moment or two in the page's face, he added slowly, "Ay!--Yes!--True! -Some one told me of it before, methinks. In bonds! I will march and -deliver him!" - -"Alas! my lord!" answered the page, "all the powers in France would -not deliver him by force. He is in the hands of the English army, full -fifty thousand strong; and it is only by paying his ransom, I may hope -to see my noble lord freed." - -"You shall pay his ransom," replied D'Auvergne--"yes, you shall pay -his ransom. How much does the soldan ask?" - -"'Tis the English king who holds him, my lord," answered the page; -"not the soldan. We are in France, beau sire, not in Palestine." - -"Not in Palestine, fool!" cried the count, frowning as if the page -sought to mock him. "Feel I not the hot sun burning on my brow? And -yet," he continued, looking round, "I believe thou art right.--But the -ransom, what does the soldan require.--De Coucy!--the noble De -Coucy!--to think of his ever being a prisoner to those infidel -Saracens! What does the miscreant soldan demand?" - -Surprised and shocked at what he beheld, the page paused for a moment -till D'Auvergne repeated his question. Then, however, seeing that it -would be a vain attempt to change the current of the count's thoughts, -he replied, "I do not know, my lord, precisely; but I should suppose -they would never free a knight of his renown under a ransom of ten -thousand crowns." - -"Ten thousand crowns!" cried D'Auvergne, his mind getting more and -more astray every moment, under the effort and excitement of -conversation, "thou shalt have double! Then with the remainder thou -shalt buy thee a flock of sheep, and find out some valley in the -mountains, where nor man nor woman ever trod; there shalt thou hide -thee with thy sheep, till age whitens thee, and death strikes thee. -Thou shalt! thou shalt, I tell thee, that the records of the world may -say there was once a man who lived and died in peace. But come to -Jerusalem! Come! and thou shalt have the gold. For me, I am bound by a -holy vow to do penance in solitude amongst the green woods of Mount -Libanus. Follow quick! follow! and thou shalt have the gold." - -So saying, the count rode on, and Ermold de Marcy followed with his -train; speaking earnestly, though not very sagely perhaps, with -D'Auvergne's chief squire, concerning the sudden fit of insanity that -had seized his lord. - -Notwithstanding the strange turn which the mind of count Thibalt had -taken, he mistook not his road to Paris, nor did he once err in the -various turnings of the city. On the contrary, with a faculty -sometimes possessed by madness, he seemed to proceed with more -readiness than usual, following all the shortest and most direct -streets towards the house of the canons of St. Berthe's; where, on his -arrival, he went straight to the apartments which had been assigned to -him by the good fathers; and calling for his treasurer, whom he had -left behind on his visit to Compiègne, he demanded the key of his -treasure. - -The case which contained the sums he had destined to defray the -expenses of his return to the Holy Land was soon laid open before him. -For a moment or two, he gazed from it to the page, with one of the -painful, wandering looks of a mind partially gone, striving vainly to -collect all its remaining energies, and concentrate them on some -matter of deep and vital import. - -"Take it!" cried he at length--"take what is necessary.--Tell thy -lord," he added with great effort, as if the linking each idea to the -other was a work of bitter labour--"tell thy lord, I would come--I -would strive to free him myself--I would do much.--But, but--Auvergne -is not what he was. My heart is the same--but my brain, youth! my -brain!"--and he carried his hand to his brow, wandering over it with -his fingers, while his eyes fixed gradually on vacancy; and he -continued muttering broken sentences to himself, such as, "This -morning!--ay! this morning.--The hot sun of the desert.--And -Agnes--yes, Agnes--her cold words." Then suddenly catching the eye of -the page fixed upon his countenance, he pointed to the gold, -exclaiming angrily, "Take it! Why dost thou not take it?--Get thee -gone with it to thy lord. Dost thou stay to mock. Take the gold and -get thee gone, I say!" - -The page, without further bidding, kneeled beside the case, and took -thence as many bags of gold as he thought necessary for the purpose of -ransoming De Coucy; placing them one by one in his pouch. When he had -done, he paused a moment for licence to depart, which was soon given -in an angry "Get thee gone!" and, descending the stairs as quickly as -possible, he only stayed with the servants of the count d'Auvergne, to -bid them have a care of their lord; for that, to a certainty, he was -as mad as a marabout; after which, he mounted his horse and rode away. - -Ermold de Marcy first turned the head of his weary beast towards the -east; but no sooner was he out of Paris, than he changed that -direction for one nearly west; and, without exactly retreading his -steps, he took quite an opposite path to that which he first intended. -This retrograde movement proceeded from no concerted purpose, but was, -in reality and truth, a complete change of intention; for, to say -sooth, the poor page was not a little embarrassed with the business he -had in hand. - -"Here," thought he, "I have about me twelve thousand crowns in gold. -The roads are full of cotereaux, routiers, and robbers of all -descriptions; my horse is so weary, that if I am attacked, I must e'en -stand still and be plundered. Night is coming on fast; and I have -nowhere to lie--and what to do I know not. If I carry all this gold -about with me too, till I find my master, I shall lose it, by Saint -Jude! By the holy rood! I will go to the old hermit of Vincennes. He -cheated me, and proved himself a true man, after all, about that ring. -So I will leave the gold under his charge till I have learned more of -my lord, and to whom he has surrendered himself." - -This resolution was formed just as he got out of the gate of the city; -and skirting round on the outside, he took his way towards the tower -of Vincennes; after passing which, he soon reached the dwelling of the -hermit in the forest of Saint Mandé, with but little difficulty in -finding his road. The old man received him with somewhat more urbanity -than usual, and heard his tale in calm silence. Ermold related -circumstantially all that had occurred to him since he followed his -lord from Paris, looking upon the hermit in the light of a confessor, -and relieving his bosom of the load that had weighed upon it ever -since his truant escapade to the good town of La Flêche. He told, too, -all the efforts he had made to avert the unhappy effects of Jodelle's -treachery; and pourtrayed, with an air of bitter mortification, that -interested the old man in his favour, the degree of despair he had -felt when, on mounting the hill above Mirebeau, he saw the English -army in possession of the city and country round about. - -"And saw you no one who had escaped?" demanded the anchorite, with -some earnestness. - -"No one," replied the page, "but our own mad juggler. Gallon the fool, -who had got away, though sore wounded with an arrow. From him, -however, I learned nothing, for he was so cursed with the pain of his -wound, that he would speak no sense; and when I questioned him -sharply, he shouted like a devil, as is his wont, and ran off as hard -as he could. I then rode forward to Tours," continued the page, "and -for a crown, got a holy clerk to write me a letter to the count -d'Auvergne, in case I could not have speech of him, telling him of my -lord's case, and praying his help; and never did I doubt that the -noble count would instantly go down to Tours himself, to ransom his -brother in arms; but, God help us all! I found his wit a cup-full -weaker than when I left him." - -"How so?" demanded the hermit: "what wouldst thou say, boy? Why did -not the good count go? Speak more plainly." - -"Alas! good father, he is as mad as the moon!" replied the page; -"something that happened this morning at Compiègne, his followers say, -must have been the cause, for yesterday he was as wise and calm as -ever. To-day, too, when he rose, he was gloomy and stern, they tell -me, as he always is; but when he came back from the château, he was as -mad as a Saracen santon." - -The hermit clasped his hands, and knit his brows; and after thinking -deeply for several minutes, he said, apparently more as a corollary to -his own thoughts, than to the pages words, "Thus we should learn, -never for any object, though it may seem good, to quit the broad and -open path of truth. That word policy has caused, and will cause, more -misery in the world, than all the plagues of Egypt. I abjure it, and -henceforth will never yield a word's approval to aught that has even a -touch of falsehood, be it but in seeming. Never deceive any one, -youth! even to their own good, as thou mayest think; for thou knowest -not what little circumstance may intervene, unknown to thee, and, -scattering all the good designs of the matter to the wind, may leave -the deceit alone, to act deep and mischievously. A grain of sand in -the tubes of a clepsydra will derange all its functions, and throw its -manifold and complicated movements wrong. How much more likely, then, -that some little unforeseen accident in the intricate workings of this -great earthly machine should prove our best calculations false, and -whip us with our own policy! Oh! never, never deceive! Deceit in -itself is evil, and intention can never make it good." - -Though, like most people, who, when they discover an error in their -own conduct, take care to sermonise some other person thereupon, the -hermit addressed his discourse to Ermold de Marcy, his homily was in -fact a reproach to himself; for, in the page's account of the count -d'Auvergne's madness, he read, though mistakenly, the effects of the -scheme he had sanctioned, as we have seen, for freeing the country -from the interdict. For a moment or two, he still continued to think -over what he had heard, inflicting on himself that sort of bitter -castigation, which his stern mind was as much accustomed to address to -himself as to others. He then turned again to the subject of De Coucy. -"'Tis an unhappy accident, thou hast told me there, youth," he said, -coming suddenly back, upon the subject, without any immediate -connexion;--"'tis an unhappy accident,--both your lord being taken, -and his brother in arms being unable to aid him; but we must see for -means to gain his ransom, and, God willing! it shall be done." - -"'Tis done already, father hermit," replied the page: "the noble count -had not lost his love for sir Guy, though he had lost his own senses; -and albeit he was in no state to manage the matter of the ransom -himself, he gave me sufficient money. It lies there in that pouch, -twelve thousand crowns, all in gold. Now, I dare not be riding about -with such a sum; and so I have brought it to you to keep safe, while I -go back and find out the earl of Salisbury, who, I have heard say, was -an old companion of my master's in the Holy Land, and will tell me, -for his love, into whose hands he has fallen. I will now lead my beast -back to the village, by Vincennes, for carry me he can no farther; -and, though I could stretch me here in your hut for the night, no -stable is near, and my poor bay would be eaten by the wolves before -daybreak. To-morrow, with the first ray of the morning, I set out to -seek my lord, and find means of freeing him. 'Tis a long journey, and -may be a long treaty. Give me, therefore, two months to accomplish it -all; and if I come not then, think that the routiers have devoured me; -and send, I pray thee, good father, to king Philip, and bid him see my -lord ransomed." - -"Stay, boy," said the hermit: "you must not go alone. To-morrow -morning, speed to Paris; seek sir François de Roussy, Mountjoy -king-at-arms; tell him I sent thee. Show him thy lord's case, and bid -him give thee a herald to accompany thee on thine errand. Thus shall -thou do it far quicker, and far more surely; and the herald's guerdon -shall not be wanting when he returns." - -The page eagerly caught at the idea, and the farther arrangements -between himself and the hermit were easily made. After having yielded -a few of its gold pieces, to defray the expenses of the page's -journey, the pouch, with the money it contained, was safely deposited -under the moss and straw of the hermit's bed; which place, as we have -seen, had already, on one occasion, served a similar purpose. Ermold -de Marcy then received the old man's blessing, and bidding him adieu, -left him to contemplate more at leisure the news he had so suddenly -brought him. - -It was then, when freed from the immediate subject of De Coucy's -imprisonment, which the presence of the page had of course rendered -the first subject of consideration, that the mind of the hermit turned -to the unhappy fate of Arthur Plantagenet. He paused for several -moments, with his arms folded on his chest, drawing manifold sad -deductions from that unhappy prince's claim to the crown of England, -joined with his present situation, and his uncle's established -cruelty. There were hopes that the English barons might interfere, or -that shame and fear might lead John to hold his unscrupulous hand. But -yet the chance was a frail one; and as the old man contemplated the -reverse, he gave an involuntary shudder, and sinking on his knees -before the crucifix, he addressed a silent prayer to Heaven, for -protection to the unfortunate beings exposed to the cruel ambition of -the weak and remorseless tyrant. - - - - -CHAPTER II. - - -There stood in ancient days, on the banks of the river Seine, a tall -strong tower, forming one of the extreme defences of the city of Rouen -towards the water. It has long, long been pulled down; but I have -myself seen a picture of that capital of Normandy, taken while the -tower I speak of yet stood; and though the painter had indeed -represented it as crumbling and dilapidated, even in his day, there -was still an air of menacing gloom in its aspect, that seemed to speak -it a place whose dungeons might have chronicled many a misery--a place -of long sorrows, and of ruthless deeds. - -In this tower, some four months after the events which we have -recorded in the end of the last volume and the beginning of this, were -confined two persons of whom we have already spoken much--Arthur -Plantagenet and Guy de Coucy. - -The chamber that they inhabited was not one calculated either to raise -the spirits of a prisoner by its lightsome airiness, or to awaken his -regrets by the prospect of the free world without. It seemed as if -made for the purpose of striking gloom and terror into the bosoms of -its sad inhabitants; and strong must have been the heart that could -long bear up under the depressing influence of its heavy atmosphere. - -Its best recommendation was its spaciousness, being a square of near -thirty feet in length and breadth; but this advantage was almost -completely done away by the depression of the roof, the highest extent -of which, at the apex of the arches whereof it was composed, was not -above eight feet from the floor. In the centre rose a short column of -about two feet in diameter, from which, at the height of little more -than a yard from the ground, began to spring the segments of masonry -forming the low but pointed arches of the vault. - -Window there was none; but at the highest part, through the solid bend -of one of the arches, was pierced a narrow slit, or loophole, -admitting sufficient light into the chamber to render the objects -dimly visible, but nothing more. - -The furniture which this abode of wretchedness contained was as scanty -as could well be, though a pretence of superior comfort had been given -to it over the other dungeons, when it was about to be tenanted by a -prince. Thus, in one part was a pile of straw, on which De Coucy made -his couch; and in another corner was a somewhat better bed, with two -coverings of tapestry, placed there for the use of Arthur. There were -also two settles--an unknown luxury in prisons of that day, and by the -massy column in the centre stood a small oaken table. - -At the side of this last piece of furniture, with his arms stretched -thereon, and his face buried in his arms, sat Arthur Plantagenet. It -was apparently one of those fine sunny days that sometimes break into -February; and a bright ray of light found its way through the narrow -loophole we have mentioned, and fell upon the stooping form of the -unhappy boy, exposing the worn and soiled condition of his once -splendid apparel, and the confused dishevelled state of the rich, -curling, yellow hair, which fell in glossy disarray over his fair -cheeks, as his brow rested heavily upon his arms. The ray passed on, -and forming a long narrow line of light upon the pillar, displayed a -rusty ring of iron, with its stauncheon deeply imbedded in the stone. -Attached to this hung several links of a broken chain; but though the -unhappy prince, when he looked upon the manacles that had been -inflicted on some former tenant of the prison, might have found that -comparative consolation which we derive from the knowledge of greater -misery than our own; yet the other painful associations, called up by -the sight, more than counterbalanced any soothing comparisons it -suggested; and he seemed, in despair, to be hiding his eyes from all -and every thing, in a scene where each object he looked upon called -up, fresh, some regret for the past, or some dread for the future. - -A little beyond, in a leaning position, with his hand grasping one of -the groins of the arch, stood De Coucy, in the dim half light that -filled every part of the chamber, where that ray already mentioned -fell not immediately; and with a look of deep mournful interest, he -contemplated his young fellow-captive, whose fate seemed to affect him -even more than his own. - -During the first few days of their captivity, all the prisoners taken -at Mirebeau had been treated by the crafty John with kindness and even -distinction; more especially Arthur and De Coucy, at least while -William Longsword, the Earl of Pembroke, and some others of the more -independent of the English nobility, remained near the person of the -king. While this lasted, the youthful mind of Arthur Plantagenet -recovered in some degree its tone, though the fatal events of Mirebeau -had at first sunk it almost to despair. - -On one pretence or another, however, John soon contrived that all -those who might have obstructed his schemes, either by opposition or -remonstrance, should be despatched on distant and tedious expeditions; -and, free from the restraint of their presence, his real feelings -towards Arthur, and those who supported him, were not long in -displaying themselves. - -Though ungifted with that fine quality which, teaching us to judge and -direct our own conduct as well as to understand and govern that of -others, truly deserves the name of wisdom, John possessed that -knowledge of human nature,--that cunning science in man's weaknesses, -which is too often mistaken for wisdom. He well understood, therefore, -that the good and noble--even in an age when virtue was chivalrous, -and when the protection of the oppressed was a deed of fame--would -often suffer violence and cruelty to pass unnoticed, after time had -taken the first hard aspect from the deed. He knew that what would -raise a thousand voices against it to-day, would to-morrow be -canvassed in a whisper, and the following day forgotten: and he judged -that, though the first rumour of his severity towards his nephew might -for a moment wake the indignation of his barons, yet, long before they -were reunited on the scene of action, individual interests, and newer -events, would step in, and divert their thoughts to very different -channels. - -Lord Pembroke was consequently despatched to Guyenne, with several of -those unmanageable honest men, whose straightforward honour is the -stumbling-block of evil intentions. Lord Salisbury was left once more -to protect Touraine with very inefficient forces; and John himself -retreated across the Loire, with the prisoners and the bulk of his -army. - -Each day's march changed his demeanour towards Arthur and his -unfortunate companions. His kingly courtesy became gradually scanty -kindness, manifest neglect, and, at last, cruel ill usage. The -revolted nobles of Poitou had given quite sufficient excuse for the -king's severity, towards them, at least; and with little ceremony, -either of time or manner, they were consigned to separate prisons, -scattered over the face of Maine and Brittany. Arthur and De Coucy -were granted a few days more of comparative liberty, following the -English army, strongly escorted indeed; but still breathing the free -air, and enjoying the sight of fair nature's face. At length, as the -army passed through Normandy, their escort, already furnished with -instructions to that effect, turned from the line of march, and -deposited them within the walls of the castle of Falaise; from which -place they were removed to Rouen in the midst of the winter, and -confined in the chamber we have already described. - -Arthur's mind had borne up at Falaise; so far, at least, that, though -he grieved over the breaking of his first splendid hopes, and felt, -with all the eager restlessness of youth, the uncomforts of -imprisonment, the privation of exercise, the dull monotonous round of -daily hours, the want of novelty, and the wearisome continuity of one -unchanging train of thought; yet hope was still alive--nay, even -expectation; and ceaselessly would he build those blessed castles in -the air, that, like the portrait of an absent friend, picture forth -the sweet features of distant happiness, far away, but not lost for -ever. The air of the prison had there been fresh and light, the -governor mild and urbane; and though, there, he had been lodged in a -different chamber from De Coucy, yet his spirits had not sunk, even -under solitude. - -At Rouen, however, though the jailer, for his own convenience, rather -than their comfort, placed the two prisoners in the same apartment, -Arthur's cheerfulness quickly abandoned him; his health failed, and -his hopes and expectations passed away like dreams, as they were. The -air, though cold, was close and heavy; and the dim, grey light of the -chamber seemed to encourage every melancholy thought. - -When De Coucy strove to console him, he would but shake his head with -an impatient start, as if the very idea of better days was but a -mockery of his hopelessness; and at other times he would sit, with the -silent tears of anguish and despair chasing each other down his fair, -pale cheeks, hour after hour; as if weeping had become his occupation. -As one day followed another, his depression seemed to increase. The -only sign of interest he had shown in what was passing in the busy -world without, had been the questions which he asked the jailer, -morning and evening, when their food or a light was brought them. -Then, he had been accustomed anxiously to demand when his uncle John -was expected to return from England, and sometimes to comment on the -reply; but, after a while, this too ceased, and his whole energies -seemed benumbed with despair, from the rising till the setting of the -sun. - -After it was down, however, he seemed in a degree to re-awaken; and -then alone he showed an interest in any thing unconnected with his own -immediate fate, when the day had gone, and by the light of the lamp -that was given them at night, De Coucy would relate to him many a -battle and adventure in the Holy Land--scenes of danger, and terror, -and excitement; and deeds of valour, and strength, and generosity, all -lighted up with the romantic and chivalrous spirit of the age, and -tinged with that wild and visionary superstition which cast a vague -sort of shadowy grandeur over all the tales of those days. - -Then Arthur's cheek would glow with a flush of feverish interest; and -he would ask many an eager question, and listen to long and minute -descriptions, that would weary beyond all patience any modern ears; -and, in the end, he would wish that, instead of having embarked his -hopes in the fatal endeavour of recovering lost kingdoms, and wresting -his heritage from the usurper, he had given his life and hopes to the -recovery of Christ's blessed cross and sepulchre. - -This, however, was only, as we have said, after the sun had gone down, -and when the lamp was lighted; for it seemed that then, when the same -darkness was apportioned to every one, and when every one sought a -refuge within the walls of their dwellings, that he felt not his -imprisonment so painfully as when day had risen--_day_, which to him -was without any of day's enjoyments. _He_ could not taste the fresh -air--_he_ could not catch the sunshine of the early spring--_he_ could -not stretch his enfeebled limbs in the sports of the morning--_he_ -could not gaze upon all the unrivalled workmanship of God's glorious, -beauty-spreading hand. Daylight to him was all privation; and even the -sunbeam that found its way through the loophole in the masonry, seemed -but given to wring him with the memory of sweets he could not taste. -He thus therefore turned his back towards it, as we have at first -depicted him; and burying his eyes upon his arms, gave himself up to -the recollection of broken hopes, long-gone visions of empiry and -dominion, stifled aspirations after honour and fame, brilliant past -schemes of justice and equity, and universal benevolence, and all -those bright materials given to youth, out of which manhood preserves -so few to carry on into old age. Powerful feelings and generous -designs are, alas! too like the inheritance of a miser in the hands of -some spendthrift heir--lavished away on trifles in our early years, -and needed, but not possessed, in our riper age. - -None had been more endowed in such sort than Arthur Plantagenet; but -it seemed the will of Fortune, to snatch from him, piece by piece, -each portion of his heritage, and to crush the energies of his mind at -the same time that she tore from him his right of dominion; and thus, -while he lay and pondered over all he had once hoped, there was a -touch of bitterness mingled with his grief, to feel that the noblest -wishes are but the mock and sport of Fate. Born to a kingdom, yet -doomed to a prison; as a child he had entered on the career of a man; -he had mingled the bright aspirations of youth with the ambitious -yearnings of maturity; and now his infancy lay crushed under the -misfortunes of manhood. - -De Coucy gazed on him with feelings of deep and painful interest. What -he might have been, and what he was; his youth, and his calamities; -his crushed mind, and its former gallant energy, stood forth in strong -contrast to the eyes of De Coucy, as, leaning against the arch, he -contemplated the unhappy prince, whose thin, pale hands, appearing -from beneath the curls of his glossy hair, spoke plainly the ravages -that confinement and sorrow had worked upon him. - -The knight was about to speak, when the sounds of voices approaching -were heard through the low small door that opened from their chamber -upon a stone gallery at the head of the staircase. De Coucy listened. - -"Thou art bold!--thou art too bold!" cried one of the speakers, -pausing opposite the door. "Tell not me of other prisoners! Thine -orders were strict, that he should be kept alone.--What was 't to -thee, if that mad De Coucy had rotted with fifty others in a cell? Thy -charge is taken from thee. Speak not! but begone! Leave me thy -keys.--Thou, Humbert, stand by with thy men. Listen not; but if I -call, rush in. Mark me, dost thou? If I speak loud, rush in!" - -The bolts were withdrawn, the key turned, and, the door opening, John, -King of England, entered, stooping his head to pass the low arch of -the doorway. Arthur had looked up at the first sound, and his pale -cheek had become a hue paler, even before the appearance of his uncle; -but, when John did at length approach, a quick sharp shudder passed -over his nephew's form, as if there had been indeed some innate -antipathy, which warned the victim that he was in presence of him -destined to be his murderer. - -The king advanced a step or two into the chamber, and then paused, -regarding Arthur, who had risen from his seat, with a cold and -calculating eye. A slight smile of gratification passed over his lip, -as he remarked the sallow and emaciated state to which imprisonment -and despair had reduced a form but three short months before full of -life, and strength, and beauty. - -The smile passed away instantly from a face little accustomed to -express the real feelings of the heart; but John still continued for a -moment to contemplate his nephew evidently little pained at the sight -of the change he beheld, whether from that change he augured -sufficient depression of mind to second his purpose of wringing from -his nephew the cession of his claims, or whether he hoped that -sickness might prove as good an auxiliary as murder, and spare him -bloodshed, that would inevitably be accompanied by danger, as well as -reproach. His eye then glanced through the sombre arches of the vault, -till it rested on De Coucy with a sort of measuring fixedness, as if -he sought to ascertain the exact space between himself and the knight. - -Satisfied on this point, he turned again to Arthur. - -"Well, fair nephew," said he, with that kind of irony which he seldom -banished from his lips, "for three years I asked you in vain to honour -my poor court with your noble presence. You have come at last, and -doubtless the reception I have given you is such, that you will never -think of departing from a place where you may be hospitably -entertained for life. How love you prison walls, fair nephew?" - -Arthur replied not; but, casting himself again upon the settle, -covered his eyes as before, and seemed, from the quick rise and fall -of his shoulders, to weep bitterly. - -"Sir King," said De Coucy, interposing indignantly, "thou art, then, -even more cruel than report gives thee out. Must thou needs add the -torture of thy words to the tyranny of thine actions. In the name of -God! bad man, leave this place of wretchedness, and give thy nephew, -at least, such tranquillity as a prison may afford." - -"Ha! beau sire de Coucy," cried John with an unaltered tone. "Methinks -thou art that gallant knight who proclaimed Arthur Plantagenet King of -England in the heart of Mirebeau. His kingdom is a goodly one," he -continued, looking round the chamber, "gay and extensive is it! He has -to thank thee much for it!--Let me tell thee, sir knight," he added, -raising his voice and knitting his brow, "to the bad counsels of thee, -and such as thee, Arthur Plantagenet owes all his sorrows and -captivity. Ye have poisoned his ear against his kindred; ye have -raised up in him ambitious thoughts that become him not; ye have -taught him to think himself a king; and ye have cast him down from a -prince to a prisoner." - -John spoke loudly and angrily, and at the sound the door of the vault -was pushed open, showing the form of a man-at-arms about to enter, -followed by several others. But the king waved them back with his -hand, and turning to Arthur, he proceeded:--"Hearken to me, nephew! -The way to free yourself, and to return to the bright world from which -you are now cut off, is free and open before you."[23] - - --------------------- - -[Footnote 23: This conversation is reported by the chroniclers of the -time to have taken place previous to Arthur's confinement in the tower -of Rouen.] - --------------------- - - -Arthur raised his head. - -"Renounce your claim to kingdoms you shall never possess, and cast -from you expectations you can never realise, and you shall be free -to-morrow. I will restore to you your duchy of Brittany; I will give -you a portion befitting a Plantagenet; and I will treat you kindly as -my brother's son. What would you more? You shall have the friendship -and protection of the King of England." - -"I would rather have the enmity of the King of France," cried Arthur, -starting up, as the long catalogue of all John's base perfidies rushed -across his mind, coupled with the offer of his friendship--"I would -rather have the enmity of the King of France! There is always some -resource in the generosity of a true knight." - -"Thou art a fool, stubborn boy!" cried John, his eye flashing and his -lip curling at his nephew's bold reply--"thou art a stubborn fool! Are -not the kings of France the hereditary enemies of our race?" - -"Philip of France is my godfather in chivalry," replied Arthur, -drawing somewhat nearer to De Coucy, as if for protection from the -wrath that was gathering on his uncles brow, "and I would rather place -my confidence in him, than in one who wronged my uncle Richard, who -wronged my father Geoffrey, and who has broken his word even in -respect to me, by thrusting me into a prison, when he promised his -barons, as they themselves have told me, to leave me at liberty and to -treat me well. He that breaks his word is no good knight, and I tell -thee, John of Anjou, thou art false and foresworn!" - -John lost his habitual command over his countenance in the excess of -his wrath; and his features seemed actually to change under the -vehemence of his passion. He set his teeth; he clenched his left hand, -as if he would have buried his finger-nails in the palm; and, -thrusting his right under his crimson mantle, he evidently drew some -weapon from its sheath. But at that moment, De Coucy, taking one -stride in advance, opposed himself between the king and his nephew, -and with his head thrown back, and his broad chest displayed, prepared -at all risks to seize the tyrant, and dash him to atoms if he offered -any violence to the unhappy youth that fortune had cast into his -power. - -John, however, possessed not the heart, even had he been armed in -proof, to encounter a knight like De Coucy, though unarmed; and, -sheathing again his dagger, he somewhat smoothed his look. - -"By St. Paul!" he cried, taking pains, however, not to affect coolness -too suddenly, lest the rapidity of the transition should betray its -falseness, but carefully letting his anger appear to be slow in -subsiding--"by St. Paul! Arthur Plantagenet, thou wilt drive me mad! -Wert thou not my brother's son, I would strike thee with my dagger! I -came to thee, to give thee liberty, if this taste of imprisonment had -taught thee to yield thy empty pretensions to a crown thou canst never -win; and thou meetest me with abuse and insult. The consequences be on -thine own head, minion! I have dungeons deeper than this, and chains -that may weigh somewhat heavy on those frail limbs!" - -"Neither dungeons nor chains," replied the gallant boy firmly, "no, -nor death itself, shall make me renounce my rights of birth! You judge -me cowardly, by the tears I shed but now; but I tell thee, that though -I be worn with this close prison, and broken by sorrow, I fear not to -meet death, rather than yield what I am bound in honour to maintain. -England, Anjou, Guyenne, Touraine, are mine in right of my father; -Brittany comes to me from my mother, its heiress; and, even in the -grave, my bones shall claim the land, and my tomb proclaim thee an -usurper!" - -"Ha!" said John, "ha!" and there was a sneering accent on the last -monosyllable that was but too fatally explained afterwards. "Be it as -thou wilt, fair nephew," he added with a smile of dark and bitter -meaning--"be it as thou wilt;" and he was turning to leave the -apartment. - -"Hold, sir, yet one moment!" cried De Coucy. "One word on my account. -When I yielded my sword to William of Salisbury, your noble brother, -it was under the express promise that I should be treated well and -knightly; and he was bound, in delivering me to you, to make the same -stipulation in my behalf. If he did do it, you have broken your word. -If he did not do it, he has broken his; and one or other I will -proclaim a false traitor, in every court of Europe." - -John heard him to an end; and then, after eyeing him from head to foot -in silence, with an air of bitter triumphant contempt, he opened the -door and passed out, without deigning to make the least reply. The -door closed behind him--the heavy bolts were pushed forward--and -Arthur and De Coucy once more stood alone, cut off from all the world. - -The young captive gazed on his fellow-prisoner for a moment or two, -with a glance in which the agitation of a weakened frame and a -depressed mind might be traced struggling with a sense of dignity and -firmness. - -De Coucy endeavoured to console him; but the prince raised his hand, -with an imploring look, as if the very name of comfort were a mockery. -"Have I acted well, sir knight?" he asked. "Have I spoken as became -me?" - -"Well and nobly have you acted, fair prince," replied De Coucy, "with -courage and dignity worthy your birth and station." - -"That is enough then!" said Arthur--"that is enough!" and, with a deep -and painful sigh, he cast himself again upon the seat; and, once more -burying his face on his arms, let the day flit by him without even a -change of position. - -In the mean while, De Coucy, with his arms folded on his breast, paced -up and down the vaulted chamber, revolving thoughts nearly as bitter -as those of his fellow-captive. Mirebeau had proved as fatal to him as -to Arthur. It had cast down his all. Arthur had struck for kingdoms, -and he had struck for glory and fortune--the object of both, however, -was happiness, though the means of the one was ambition, and of the -other, love. Both had cast their all upon the stake, and both had -lost. He, too, had to mourn then the passing away of his last hopes, -the bright dream of love, and all the gay and delightful fabrics that -imagination had built up upon its fragile base. They had fallen in -ruins round him; and his heart sickened when he thought of all that a -long captivity might effect in extinguishing the faint, faint -glimmering of hope which yet shone upon his fate. - -Thus passed the hours till night began to fall; and all the various -noises of the town,--the shouts of the boatmen on the river, the -trampling of the horses in the streets, the busy buzz of many thousand -tongues, the cries of the merchants in the highways, and the rustling -tread of all the passers to and fro, which during the day had risen in -a confused hum to the chamber in which they were confined, died one by -one away; and nothing was at length heard but the rippling of the -waters of the Seine, then at high tide, washing against the very -foundations of the tower. - -It was now the hour at which a lamp was usually brought them; and -Arthur raised his head, as if anxious for its coming. - -"Enguerand is late to-night," said he. "But I forgot; I heard my uncle -discharge him from his office. Perhaps the new governor will not give -us any light. Yet, hark! I hear his footstep. He is lighting the -lantern in the passage." - -He was apparently right, for steps approached, stopping twice for a -moment or two, as if to fulfil some customary duty, and then coming -nearer, they paused at the door of their prison. The bolts were -withdrawn, and a stranger, bearing a lamp, presented himself. His face -was certainly not very prepossessing, but it was not strikingly -otherwise; and Arthur, who with a keen though timid eye scanned every -line in his countenance, was beginning in some degree to felicitate -himself on the change of his jailer, when the stranger turned and -addressed him in a low and somewhat unsteady voice. - -"My lord," said he, "you must follow me; as I am ordered to give you a -better apartment. The sire De Coucy must remain here till the upper -chamber is prepared." - -Fear instantly seized upon Arthur. "I will not leave him," cried he, -running round the pillar, and clinging to De Coucy's arm. "This -chamber is good enough; I want no other." - -"Your hand is not steady, sirrah!" said De Coucy, taking the lamp from -the man, and holding it to his pale face. "Your lip quivers, and your -cheek is as blanched as a templar's gown." - -"'Tis the shaking fever I caught in the marshes by Du Clerc," replied -the other; "but what has that to do with the business of Prince -Arthur, beau sire?" - -"Because we doubt foul play, varlet," replied De Coucy, "and you speak -not with the boldness of good intent." - -"If any ill were designed, either to you or to the prince," replied -the man more boldly, "'t would be easily accomplished, without such -ceremony. A flight of arrows, shot through your doorway, would leave -you both as dead as the saints in their graves." - -"That is true too!" answered De Coucy, looking to Arthur, who still -clung close to his arm. "What say you, my prince?" - -"It matters little what the duke says, beau sire," said the jailer, -interposing, "for he _must_ come. Several of the great barons have -returned to the court sooner than the king expected; and he would not -have them find prince Arthur here, it seems. So, if he come not by -fair means, I must e'en have up the guard, and take him to his chamber -by force." - -"Ha!" said Arthur, somewhat loosening his hold of De Coucy's arm. -"What barons are returned, sayest thou? - -"I know not well," said the jailer carelessly; "Lord Pembroke I saw go -by, and I heard of good William with the Longsword; but I marked not -the names of the others, though I was told them." - -Arthur looked to De Coucy as if for advice. "The ague fit has -marvellously soon passed," said the knight, fixing his eyes sternly -upon the stranger. "By the holy rood! if I thought that thou playedst -us false, I would dash thy brains out against the wall!" - -"I play you not false, sir knight," replied the man in an impatient -tone. "Come, my lord," he continued to Arthur, "come quickly, for come -you must. You will find some fresh apparel in the other chamber. -To-morrow they talk of having you to the court; for these proud lords, -they say, murmur at your being kept here." - -There was a vague suspicion of some treachery still rested on the mind -of De Coucy. The man's story was probable. It was more than probable, -it was very likely; but yet the knight did not believe it, he knew not -why. On Arthur, however, it had its full effect. He was aware that -lord Pembroke, together with several of the greater barons of England, -had wrung a promise for his safety, from king John, long before the -relief of Mirebeau; and he doubted not that to their remonstrance he -owed this apparent intention to alleviate his imprisonment. - -"I must leave you, I am afraid, beau sire de Coucy," said the prince. -"I would fain stay here; but, I fear me, it is vain to resist." - -"I fear me so too," replied the knight. "Farewell, my noble prince! We -shall often think of each other, though separated. Farewell!" - -De Coucy took the unhappy boy in his arms, and pressed him for a -moment to his heart, as if he had been parting with a brother or a -child. He could no way explain his feelings at that moment. They had -long been companions in many of those bitter hours which endear people -to each other, more perhaps than even hours of mutual happiness; but -there was something in his bosom beyond the pain of parting with a -person whose fate had even thus been united with his own. He felt that -he saw Arthur Plantagenet for the last time; and he gave him, as it -were, the embrace of the dying. - -He would not, however, communicate his own apprehensions to the bosom -of the prince; and, unfolding his arms, he watched him while, with a -step still hesitating, he approached the doorway. - -The jailer followed, and held open the door for him to pass out. -Arthur, however, paused for a moment, and turned a timid glance -towards De Coucy, as if there was some misdoubting in his bosom too; -then, suddenly passing his hand over his brow, as if to clear away -irresolution, he passed the doorway. - -The instant he entered the passage beyond, he stopped, exclaiming, "It -is my uncle!" and turned to rush back into the cell; but before he -could accomplish it, or De Coucy could start forward to assist him, -the new jailer passed out, pushed the unhappy prince from the -threshold, and shutting the door, fastened it with bolt after bolt. - -"Now, minion," cried a voice without, which De Coucy could not doubt -was that of king John, "wilt thou brave me as thou didst this -morning?--Begone, slave!" he added, apparently speaking to the jailer; -"quick! begone!" and then again turning to his nephew, he poured upon -him a torrent of vehement and angry vituperation. - -In that dark age such proceedings could have but one purpose, and De -Coucy, comprehending them at once, glanced round the apartment in -search of some weapon wherewith he might force the door; but it was in -vain--nothing presented itself. The door was cased with iron, and the -strength of Herculus would not have torn it from its hinges. Glaring -then like a lion in a cage, the knight stood before it, listening for -what was to follow,--doubting not for a moment the fearful object of -the bad and bloodthirsty monarch,--his heart swelling with indignation -and horror, and yet perfectly impotent to prevent the crime that he -knew was about to be perpetrated. - -"John of Anjou!" he cried, shouting through the door. "Bloodthirsty -tyrant! beware what you do! Deeply shall you repent your baseness, if -you injure but a hair of his head! I will brand your name with shame -throughout Europe! I will publish it before your barons to your teeth! -You are overheard, villain, and your crime shall not sleep in secret!" - -But, in the dreadful scene passing without, neither nephew nor uncle -seemed to heed his call. There was evidently a struggle, as if the -king endeavoured to free himself from the agonised clasp of Arthur, -whose faint voice was heard, every now and then, praying in vain for -mercy, at the hands of the hard-hearted tyrant in whose power he was. -At length the struggle seemed to grow fainter. A loud horrific cry -rang echoing through the passages; and then a heavy, deadly fall, as -if some mass of unelastic clay were cast at once upon the hollow stone -of the pavement. Two or three deep groans followed; and then a -distinct blow, as if a weapon of steel, stabbed through some softer -matter, struck at last against a block of stone. A retreating step was -heard; then whispering voices; then, shortly after, the paddling of a -boat in the water below the tower--a heavy plunge in the stream--and -all was silent.[24] - - --------------------- - -[Footnote 24: The French writers of that day almost universally agree -in attributing the death of Arthur to John's own hand. The English -writers do not positively deny it, and we have indubitable proof that -such was the general rumour through all the towns and castles of -Europe at the time.--See Guill. Guiart. Guill. de Nangis. Guill. le -Breton. Mat. Paris, &c.] - --------------------- - - - - -CHAPTER III. - - -No language can express the joy that spread over the face of France, -when the first peal from the steeples of the churches announced that -the interdict was raised--that the nation was once more to be held as -a Christian people--that the barrier was cast down which had separated -it from the pale of the church. Labour, and care, and sorrow seemed -suspended. The whole country rang with acclamations; and so crowded -were the churches, when the gates were first thrown open, that several -hundred serfs were crushed to death in the struggle for admission. - -Every heart was opened--every face beamed with delight; and the aspect -of the whole land was as glad and bright, as if salvation had then -first descended upon earth. There were but two beings, in all the -realm, to whom that peal sounded unjoyfully; and to them it rang like -the knell of death. Agnes de Meranie heard it on her knees, and -mingled her prayers with tears. Philip Augustus listened to it with a -dark and frowning brow; and, striding up and down his solitary hall, -he commented on each echoing clang, with many a deep and bitter -thought. "They rejoice," said he mentally--"they rejoice in my misery. -They ring a peal to celebrate my disappointment; but each stroke of -that bell breaks a link of the chain that held them together, secure -from my vengeance. Let them beware! Let them beware! or that peal -shall be the passing bell to many a proud knight and rebellious -baron." - -Philip's calculations were not wrong. During the existence of the -interdict, the nobles of France had been held together in their -opposition to the monarch, by a bond entwined of several separate -parts, which were all cut at once by the king's submission to the -papal authority. The first tie had been general superstition; but this -would have hardly proved strong enough to unite them powerfully -together, had the cause of Philip's opposition to the church been any -thing but entirely personal. In his anger, too, the king had for a -moment forgotten his policy, and added another tie to that which -existed before. Instead of courting public opinion to his support, he -had endeavoured to compel his unwilling barons to co-operate in his -resistance; and by severity and oppression, wherever his will was -opposed, had complicated the bond of union amongst his vassals, which -the interdict had first begun to twine. - -The moment, however, that the papal censure was removed, all those who -had not really suffered from the king's wrath fell off from the league -against him; and many of the others, on whom his indignation had -actually fallen, whether from blind fear or clear-sighted policy, -judged that safety was no longer to be found but in his friendship, -and made every advance to remove his anger. - -Philip repelled none. Those on whose services he could best rely, and -whose aid was likely to be most useful, he met with courtesy and -frankness, remitted the fines he had exacted, restored the feofs he -had forfeited, and, by the voluntary reparation of the oppression he -had committed, won far more upon opinion, than he had lost by the -oppression itself. Those, however, who still murmured, or held back, -he struck unsparingly. He destroyed their strong holds, he forfeited -their feofs, and thus, joining policy and vengeance, he increased his -own power, he punished the rebellious, he scared his enemies, and he -added many a fair territory to his own domain. - -The eyes of the pope were still upon France; and seeing that the power -for which he had made such an effort was falling even by the height to -which he had raised it; that the barons were beginning to sympathise -and co-operate with the king; and that those who still remained in -opposition to the monarch were left now exposed to the full effects of -his anger; Innocent resolved at once to make new efforts, both by -private intrigue, and by another daring exercise of his power, to -establish firmly what he had already gained. - -Amidst those who still remained discontented in France, he spared no -means to maintain that discontent; and amidst Philip's external -enemies he spread the project of that tremendous league, which -afterwards, gathering force like an avalanche, rolled on with -overwhelming power, in spite of all the efforts which Innocent at last -thought fit to oppose to it, when he found that the mighty engine -which he had first put in motion threatened to destroy himself. At the -same time, to give these schemes time to acquire maturity and -strength, and to break the bond of union which war always creates -between a brave nation and a warlike monarch, he prepared to interpose -between John of England and Philip Augustus, and to command the -latter, with new threats of excommunication in case of disobedience, -to abandon the glorious course that he was pursuing in person on the -right of the Loire, at the moment when we have seen him despatch -Arthur to carry on the war on the left. - -It was somewhere about the period of the events we have related in our -last chapter, and winter had compelled Philip to close the campaign -which he had been pursuing against John with his wonted activity, -when, one morning, as he sat framing his plans of warfare for the -ensuing year, a conversation to the following effect took place -between him and Guerin. - -"--And then for Rouen!" said the king. "Thus cut off from all -supplies, as I have showed you, and beleaguered by such an army as I -can bring against it, it cannot hold out a month. But we must be -sudden, Guerin, in our movements, carefully avoiding any demonstration -of our intentions, till we sit down before the place, lest John should -remove our poor Arthur, and thus foil us in the chief point of our -enterprise. Three more such bright sunshining mornings as this, and I -will call my men to the _monstre_. God send us an early spring!" - -"I fear me much, sire, that the pope will interfere," replied Guerin; -"repeated couriers are passing between Rome and England. He has -already remonstrated strongly against the war; and, I little doubt, -will endeavour, by all means, to put a stop to it." - -"Ha, say'st thou?" said the king, looking up with a smile, from a rude -plan of the city of Rouen, round which he was drawing the lines of an -encampment. "God send he may interfere, Guerin! He has triumphed over -me once, good friend. It is time that I should triumph over him." - -"But are you sure of being able to do so, sire?" demanded Guerin, with -his usual simple frankness, putting the naked truth before the king's -eyes, without one qualifying phrase! "The pleasure of resistance -would, methinks, be too dear bought, at the expense of a second -defeat. The pope is strengthening himself by alliances. But yesterday -the Duke of Burgundy informed me, that six successive messengers from -the holy see had passed through his territories within a month, all -either bound to Otho the emperor, or to Ferrand count of Flanders." - -Philip listened with somewhat of an abstracted air. His eye fixed upon -vacancy, as if he were gazing on the future; and yet it was evident -that he listened still, for a smile of triumphant consciousness in his -own powers glanced from time to time across his lip, as the minister -touched upon the machinations of his enemies. - -"I fear me, sire," continued Guerin, "that your bold resistance to the -will of the pontiff has created you at Rome an enemy that it will not -be easy to appease." - -"God send it!" was all Philip's reply, uttered with the same absent -look, as if his mind was still busy with other matters. "God send it, -Guerin! God send it!" - -The minister was mute; and, after a momentary pause on both sides, -Philip Augustus started up, repeating in a louder voice, as if -impatient of the silence, "God send it, I say, Guerin! for, if he does -commit that gross mistake in meddling in matters where he has no -pretence of religious authority to support him in the eyes of the -superstitious crowd, by the Lord that lives! I will crush him like a -hornet that has stung me!" - -"But, my lord, consider," said Guerin, "consider that--" - -"Consider!" interrupted the king. "I have considered, Guerin! Think -you I am blind, my friend? Think you I do not see? I tell thee, -Guerin, I look into the workings of this pope's mind as clearly as -ever did prophet of old into the scheme of futurity. He hates me -nobly, I know it--with all the venom of a proud and passionate heart. -He hates me profoundly, and I hate him as well. Thank God for that! I -would not meet him but on equal terms; and, I tell thee, Guerin, I see -all which that hatred may produce." - -The king paused, and took two or three strides in the apartment, as if -to compose himself, and give his thoughts a determinate form; for he -had lashed himself already into no small anger, with the very thoughts -of the hatred between the proud prelate and himself. In a few moments -he stopped, and, sitting down again, looked up in the face of the -minister, somewhat smiling at his own vehemence. Yet there was -something bitter in the smile too, from remembrance of the events -which had first given rise to his enmity towards the pope. After this -had passed away, he leaned his cheek upon his hand, and, still looking -up, marked the emphasis of his discourse with the other hand, laying -it from time to time on the sleeve of the minister's gown. - -"I see it all, Guerin," said he, "and I am prepared for all. This -arrogant prelate, with his pride elevated by his late triumph, and his -heart embittered by my resistance, will do all that man can do to -overthrow me. In the first place, he will endeavour to stop my -progress against that base unknightly king--John of Anjou: but he will -fail, for my barons have already acknowledged the justice of the war; -and I have already ten written promises to support me against Rome -itself, should Rome oppose me. There is the engagement of the Duke of -Burgundy. Read that." - -Guerin took up the parchment to which the king pointed, and read a -clear and positive agreement, on the part of the Duke of Burgundy, to -aid Philip, with all his knights and vassals, against John of England, -in despite of even the thunders of the church--to march and fight at -his command during the whole of that warfare, how long soever it might -last; and never either to lay down his arms, or to make peace, truce, -or treaty, either with the king of England, or the bishop of Rome, -without the express consent and order of Philip himself. - -Guerin was surprised; for though he well knew that--notwithstanding -his own office--the king transacted the greater part of the high -political negotiations of the kingdom himself, and often without the -entire knowledge of any one, yet he had hardly thought that such -important arrangements could have been made totally unknown to him. It -was so, however; and Philip, not remarking his minister's -astonishment--for, as we have said before, the countenance of Guerin -was not very apt to express any of the emotions of his mind--proceeded -to comment on the letter he had shown him. - -"Ten such solemn agreements have I obtained from my great vassals," -said he, "and each can bring full two thousand men into the field. -But still, Guerin, it is not the immense power that this affords -me--greater than I have ever possessed since I sat upon the throne of -France--'tis not the power that yields me the greatest pleasure; but -it is, that herein is the seed of resistance to the papal authority; -and I will water it so well, that it shall grow up into a tall tree, -under whose shadow I may sit at ease.--Mark me, Guerin, and remember! -Henceforth, never shall an interdict be again cast upon the realm of -France,--never shall pope or prelate dare to excommunicate a French -king; and should such a thing be by chance attempted, it shall be but -as the idle wind that hisses at its own emptiness. The seed is there," -continued he, striking his hand proudly on the parchment,--"the seed -is there, and it shall spread far and wide." - -"But even should the greater part of your barons enter into this -compact, sire," said Guerin, "you may be crushed by a coalition from -without. I do not wish to be the prophet of evil; but I only seek to -place the question in every point of view. Might not then, sire, the -coalition of the pope, the emperor, and the King of England--?" - -"Might wage war with me, but could never conquer, if France were true -to France," interrupted the monarch. "Guerin, I tell thee, that an -united nation was never overcome, and never shall be, so long as the -world does last. The fate of a nation is always in its own hands. Let -it be firm, and it is safe." - -"But we unfortunately know, sire," said the minister, with a doubtful -shake of the head, "that France is not united. Many, many of the royal -vassals, and those some of the most powerful, cannot be depended on. -Ferrand, count of Flanders, for instance. I need not tell you, sire, -that he waits but an opportunity to throw off his allegiance. There -are many more. Count Julian of the Mount has been openly a follower of -the court of John of England; and though he is now on his lands, -doubtless preparing all for revolt, he has left his daughter, they -say, as security for his faith at the court of Rouen. May we not -suppose, sire, that, when the moment comes which is to try men's -hearts in this affair, we shall find thousands who--either from fear -of the papal censure--or from personal enmity--or a treacherous and -fickle disposition--or some one of all the many, many circumstances -that sow treasons in time of danger and trouble--will fall off from -you at the instant you want them most, and go over to swell the ranks -of your enemies?" - -"I do not believe it," replied Philip thoughtfully,--"I do not believe -it! The pope's authority in a war unconnected with any affair of the -church will have small effect, and if exerted, will, like a reed in a -child's hand, break itself at the first impotent blow. Besides, I much -doubt whether Innocent would now exert it against me if it were to be -used in favour of Otho of Saxony. He hates me, true! He hates me more -than he hates any other king; but yet, Guerin, but yet I see a thread -mingling with the web of yon pope's policy that may make it all run -down. Again, the war against John is a national, and must be a -popular, war. I will take care that it shall not be stretched till -France is weary of it; and John's weakness, joined with Innocent's -insolence, will soon make it a war against the nation generally, not -against the king personally. The barons will find that they are -defending themselves, while they defend me; and I will divide the -lands of him who turns traitor, amongst those that remain true. I tell -thee, Guerin, I tell thee, I would not for the world that this pope -should slacken his hand, or abate one atom of his pride. He is sowing -enemies, my friend; and he shall reap an iron harvest." - -Philip's eyes flashed as his thoughts ran on into the future. His -brow knit sternly; his hand clasped tight the edge of the table by -which he was seated, and after a moment or two of silence, he burst -forth:--"Let him but give me the means of accustoming my barons to -resist his usurped power--one great victory--and then!" - -"Then what, sire?" demanded the hospitaller calmly, his unimpassioned -mind not following the quick and lightning-like turns of Philip's -rapid feelings--"then, what?" - -"Agnes!" exclaimed Philip, starting up and grasping Guerin's -arm--"Agnes and vengeance! By Heaven! it glads my very soul to see -Innocent's machinations against me--machinations that, either by the -ingratitude of others, or my revenge, shall fall, certainly fall, like -a thunderbolt on his head. Let him raise up pomp-loving Otho, that -empty mockery of a Cæsar! Let him call in crafty, fickle, bloodthirsty -John, with his rebellious, disaffected barons! Let him join them with -boasting Ferrand of Flanders! Let him add Italian craft to German -stubbornness! Let him cast his whole weight of power upon the die! I -will stake my being against it, and perish, or avenge my wrongs, and -recover what I have lost!" - -"I fear me, sire--" said Guerin. - -"Speak not to me of fear!" interrupted the king. "I tell thee, good -friend, that in my day I have seen but one man fit to cope with a -king--I mean, Richard of England. He is gone--God rest his soul!--but -he was a good knight and a great warrior, and might have been a great -king, if fate had spared him till time had taken some of the lion's -worst part from his heart, and sprinkled some cooler wisdom on his -brow. But he is gone, and has left none like him behind. As for the -others, I will make their necks but steps to gain the height from -which my arm may reach to Rome." - -"'Tis a far way to Rome! sire," replied Guerin, "and many have -stretched their arm to reach it, and failed in the attempt. I need not -remind you of the Emperor Frederic, sire, who struggled in vain to -resist." - -"Nor of Philip of France, you would say," interposed the king, with a -gloomy smile that implied perhaps pain, but not anger. "Philip of -France!" he repeated, "who strove but to retain the wife of his bosom, -when a proud priest bade him cast her from him--and he too failed! But -Philip of France is not yet dead; and between the to-day and the -to-morrow, which constitute life and death, much may be done. I -failed, Guerin, it is true; but I failed by my own fault. My eyes -dazzled with the mist of passion, I made many a sad mistake; but now, -my eyes are open, my position is changed, and my whole faculties are -bent to watch the errors of my adversaries, and to guard against any -myself. But we will speak no more of this. Were it to cost me crown -and kingdom, life, and even renown, I would thank God for having given -me the means of striking at least one blow for love and vengeance. We -will speak no more of it. The day wears." - -It needed not the science of an old courtier to understand what the -king's last words implied; and Guerin instantly took his leave, and -left the monarch alone. - -The truth was, that to thoughts of ambition, schemes of policy, and -projects of vengeance, other ideas had succeeded in the mind of Philip -Augustus. His was a strange state of being. He lived as it were in two -worlds. Like the king of old, he seemed to have two spirits. There was -the one that, bright, and keen, and active, mingled in the busy scenes -of politics and warfare, guiding, directing, raising up, and -overthrowing; and there was another, still, silent, deep, in the -inmost chambers of his heart, yet sharing more, far more, than half -the kingdom of his thoughts, and prompting or commanding all the -actions of the other. It was this spirit that now claimed its turn to -reign exclusively; and Philip gave up all his soul to the memory of -Agnes de Meranie. Here he had a world apart from aught else on earth, -wherein the spirit of deep feeling swayed supreme; and thence issued -that strong control that his heart ever exercised over the bright -spirit of genius and talent, with which he was so eminently endowed. - -He thought of Agnes de Meranie. The fine chord of association had been -touched a thousand times during his conversation with Guerin, and at -every mention of her name, at every thought that connected itself with -her unhappy fate, fresh sorrows and regrets, memories sweet, though -painful,--most painful, that they were but memories,--came crowding on -his heart, and claiming all its feelings. As soon as the minister was -gone, he called his page, and bade him see if the canon of St. -Berthe's was in attendance. The boy returned in a few minutes, -followed by the wily priest, whom we have already heard of as the -confessor of Agnes de Meranie. Philip's feelings towards him were very -different from those he entertained towards Guerin. There was that -certain sort of doubt in the straightforwardness of his intentions, -which a cunning man,--let him cover his heart with what veil of art he -will,--can hardly ever escape. Philip had no cause to doubt, and yet -he doubted. Nor did he love the plausible kind of eloquence, which the -priest had some pride in displaying; and therefore he treated him with -that proud, cold dignity, which left the subject but little -opportunity of exercising his oratory upon the king. - -"Good morrow, father," he said, bending his brows upon the canon: -"when last I saw you, you were about to speak to me concerning the -queen, before persons whom I admit not to mingle in my private -affairs. Now answer me, as I shall question you, and remember, a brief -reply is the best. When saw you my wife, the queen?" - -"It was on the fifth day of the last week," replied the canon, in a -low sweet tone of voice, "and it was with sorrow mingled with hope--" - -"Bound yourself, in your reply, by my question, sir clerk," said the -king sternly. "I ask you neither your sorrows nor your hopes. How was -the queen in health?" - -"But frail, if one might judge by her appearance, sire," answered the -priest; "she was very pale, and seemed weak; but she said that she was -well, and indeed, sweet lady, she was like, if I may use a figure--" - -"Use none, sir," interrupted the king. "Did she take exercise?" - -"Even too much, I fear, beau sire," replied the canon. "For hours, and -hours, she wanders through the loneliest parts of the forest, sending -from her all her attendants--" - -"Ha! alone?" cried the king: "does she go alone?" - -"Entirely, sire," replied the canon of St. Berthe's, whose hopes of a -bishopric in Istria were not yet extinct. "I spoke with the leech -Rigord, whom you commanded to watch over her health; and he did not -deny, that the thing most necessary to the lady's cure was the air of -her own land, and the tending of her own relations; for he judges by -her wanderings, that her mind is hurt, and needs soothing and keeping -afar from the noisy turbulence of the world; as we keep a sick man's -chamber from the glare of the mid-day sun." - -Philip heard him out, fixing his eyes on the wily priest's face, as if -seeking to trace the cunning in his countenance, that he was sure was -busy at his heart: but the canon kept his look bent upon the ground -while speaking; and, when he had done, judging that his words pleased, -by being indulged in a much longer speech than Philip had ever before -permitted him to make, he raised his eyes to the monarch's face, with -a look of humiliated self-confidence, which, though it betrayed none -of the secrets of his wishes, did not succeed in producing any -favourable impression on the king. - -"Begone!" said the monarch, in not the most gentle tone possible; but -then, instantly sensible that his dislike to the man might be unjust, -and that his haughtiness was at all events ungenerous, he added, more -mildly, "Leave me, good father--I would be alone. Neglect not your -charge, and you shall feel the king's gratitude." - -The canon of St. Berthe's bowed low in silence, and withdrew, -pondering, with not a little mortification, on the apparent -unsuccessfulness of schemes which, though simple enough, if viewed -with the eyes of the world at present, when cunning, like every other -art, has reached the corruption of refinement, were deeply politic in -that age, when slyness was in the simplicity of its infancy. - -In the mean while, Philip Augustus paused on the same spot where the -priest had left him, in deep thought. "Alone!" muttered he,--"alone! I -have vowed a deep vow, neither to touch her lip, nor enter her -dwelling, nor to speak one word to her, for six long months, without, -prior to that period's return, a council shall have pronounced on my -divorce. But I have not vowed not to see her. I can bear this no -longer! Yon priest tortures me with tales of her sickness! He must -have some dark motive! Yet, she may be sick, too.--Ho! without there!" - -The page who had before conducted the canon of St. Berthe's to the -presence of the king, now presented himself again. - -"Gilbert!" said the monarch, "come hither, boy! Thou art of noble -birth; and art faithful and true, I well believe. Now, doubtless, thou -hast learned so much of knightly service, that you know, the page who -babbles of his lord's actions is held dishonoured and base.--Fear not, -youth, I am not angry. If I find you discreet, this hand shall some -day lay knighthood on your shoulder; but, if I find you gossip of my -deeds, it shall strike your ears from your head, and send you forth -like a serf, into the fields. With that warning, speed to the west -hall of the armoury. Thou wilt there find, in the third window from -the door, on the left hand, a casque, with the _êventaille_ cut like a -cross; a haubert, with a steel hood; a double-handed sword; a table of -attente, and other things fitting. Bring them to me hither, and be -quick." - -The page sped away, proud to be employed by the monarch on an errand -usually reserved for his noblest squires; and returned in a few -minutes, bearing the haubert and the greaves; for the load of the -whole armour would have been too much for his young arms to lift -Another journey brought the casque and sword; and a third, the -brassards and plain polished shield, called a table of attente. The -whole armour was one of those plain and unornamented suits much used -in the first fervour of the crusades, when every other decoration than -that of the cross was considered superfluous. - -Without other aid than the page could afford, whose hands trembled -with delight at their new occupation, Philip arrayed himself in the -arms that had been brought him; and, taking care to remove every trace -by which he could have been recognised, he put on the casque, which, -opening at the side, had no visor, properly so called; but which, -nevertheless, entirely concealed his face, the only opening, when the -clasps were fastened, being a narrow cruciform aperture in the front, -to admit the light and air. When this was done, he wrote upon a slip -of parchment the simple words, "The king would be alone," and gave -them to the page, as his warrant for preventing any one from entering -his apartment during his absence. He then ordered him to pass the -bridge, from the island to the tower of the Louvre, and to bring a -certain horse, which he described, from the stables of that palace, to -the end of the garden wall; and waiting some minutes after his -departure, to give time for the execution of his commands, the king -rose, and, choosing the least frequented of the many staircases in the -palace, proceeded towards the street. - -In the court he encountered several of his serjeants-at-arms, and his -other attendants, who gazed coldly at the strange knight, as he -seemed, who, thus encased in complete steel, passed, through them, -without offering or receiving any salutation. Thence he proceeded into -the busy streets; where, so strong was the force of habit, that Philip -started more than once at the want of the reverence to which he was -accustomed; and had to recall the disguise he had assumed, ere he -could fancy the disrespect unintentional. - -At the spot he had named, he found the page with the horse; but the -sturdy groom, whose charge it was in the stable, stood there also, -fully resolved to let no one mount him without sufficient authority: -nor was it till the sight of the king's signet showed him in whose -presence he stood, that he ceased his resistance. The groom, suddenly -raised to an immense height, in his own conceit, by having become, in -any way, a sharer in the king's secret, winked to the page, and held -the stirrup while the monarch mounted. - -Philip sprang into the saddle. Laying his finger on the aperture of -the casque, to enjoin secrecy, and adding, in a stern tone, "On your -life!" he turned his horse's head, and galloped away. - - - - -CHAPTER IV. - - -It is strange to read what countries once were, and to compare the -pictures old chroniclers have handed down, with the scenes as they lie -before us at present. In the neighbourhood of great capitals, however, -it is, that the hand of man wages the most inveterate war with nature; -and were I to describe the country through which Philip Augustus -passed, as he rode quickly onward towards Mantes, the modern traveller -who had followed that road would search his memory in vain for scenery -that no longer exists. Deep marshes, ancient forests, many a steep -hill and profound valley, with small scattered villages, "like angel -visits, few and far between," surrounded the monarch on his onward -way; and, where scarcely a hundred yards can now be traversed without -meeting many and various of the biped race, Philip Augustus rode over -long miles without catching a glimpse of the human form divine. - -The king's heart beat high with the thoughts of seeing her he loved, -were it but for one short casual glance at a distance; but, even -independent of such feelings, he experienced a delight, a gladness, a -freedom in the very knowledge that he was concealed from all the -world; and that, while wrapped in the plain arms that covered him, he -was liberated from all the slavery of dignity, and the importunity of -respect. There was a degree of romance in the sensation of his -independence, which we have all felt, more or less, at one time of our -lives, even surrounded as we are by all the shackles of a most -unromantic society, but which affected Philip to a thousandfold -extent, both from his position as a king, and from the wild and -chivalrous age in which he lived. - -Thus he rode on, amidst the old shadowy oaks that overhung his path, -meditating dreams and adventures that might almost have suited the -knight of La Mancha, but which, in that age, were much more easily -attainable than in the days of Cervantes. - -Of course, all such ideas were much modified by Philip's peculiar cast -of mind, and by his individual situation; but still the scenery, the -sensation of being freed from restraint, and the first bland air, too, -of the early spring, all had their effect; and as he had himself -abandoned the tedious ceremonies of a court, his mind, in sympathy, as -it seemed, quitted all the intricate and painful mazes of policy, to -roam in bright freedom amidst the wilds of feeling and imagination. - -Such dreams, however, did not produce a retarded pace, for it wanted -little more than an hour to mid-day; a long journey of forty miles was -before him, and his only chance of accomplishing his purpose was in -arriving during those hours that Agnes might be supposed to wander -alone in the forest, according to the account of the canon of St. -Berthe's. Philip, therefore, spurred on at full speed, and, avoiding -as much as possible the towns, arrived near the spot where Rosny now -stands, towards three o'clock. - -At that spot, the hills which confine the course of the Seine fall -back in a semicircle from its banks, and leave it to wander through a -wide rich valley for the distance of about half a league, before they -again approach close to the river at Rolleboise. - -There, however, the chalky banks become high and precipitous, leaving, -in many places, but a narrow road between themselves and the water; -though, at other spots, the river takes a wide turn away, and -interposes a broad meadow between its current and the cliffs. - -In those days, the whole of the soil in that part of the country was -covered with wood. The hills, and the valleys, and the plains round -Rosny and Rolleboise, were all forest ground; and the trees absolutely -dipped themselves in the Seine. To the left, a little before reaching -the chapel of Notre Dame de Rosny, the road on which Philip had -hitherto proceeded turned off into the heart of Normandy; and such was -the direct way to the castle in which Agnes de Meranie had fixed her -dwelling; but to the right, nearly in the same line as the present -road to Rouen, lay another lesser path, which, crossing the woods in -the immediate vicinity of the château, was the one that Philip judged -fit to follow. - -The road here first wound along down to the very banks of the Seine; -and then, quitting it at the little hamlet of Rolleboise, mounted the -steep hill, and dipping down rapidly again, skirted between the high -chalky banks on the left, and a small plain of underwood that lay on -the right towards the river. - -Dug deep into the heart of the cliff, were then to be seen, as now, a -variety of caves said to have been hollowed by the heathen Normans on -their first invasion of France, some yawning and bare, but most of -them covered over with underwood and climbing plants. - -By the side of one of the largest of these had grown a gigantic oak, -which, stretching its arms above, formed a sort of shady bower round -the entrance. Various signs of its being inhabited struck Philip's eye -as he approached, such as a distinct pathway from the road to the -mouth, and the marks of recent fire; but, as there was at that time -scarcely a forest in France which had not its hermit--and as many of -these, from some strange troglodytical propensity, had abjured all -habitations made with hands--the sight at first excited no surprise in -the bosom of the monarch. It was different, however, when, as he -passed by, he beheld hanging on the lowest of the oak's leafless -branches, a knight's gauntlet, and he almost fancied that one of the -romances of the day were realised, and that the next moment he should -behold some grave enchanter, or some learned sage, issue from the -bowels of the rock, and call upon him to achieve some high and -perilous adventure. - -He rode by, notwithstanding, without meeting with any such -interruption; and, thoroughly acquainted with every turn in the woods, -he proceeded to a spot where he could see the castle, and a portion of -several of the roads which led to it: and, pushing in his horse -amongst the withered leaves of the underwood, he waited in anxious -hopes of catching but a glance of her he loved. - -It is in such moments of expectation that imagination is often the -most painfully busy, especially when she has some slight foundation of -reality whereon to build up fears. Philip pictured to himself Agnes, -as he had first seen her in the full glow of youth, and health, and -beauty; and he then remembered her as she had left him, when a few -short months of sorrow and anxiety had blasted the rose upon her -cheek, and extinguished the light of her eye. Yet he felt he loved her -more deeply, more painfully, the pale and faded thing she was then, -than when she had first blessed his arms in all the pride of -loveliness; and many a sad inference did he draw, from the rapidity -with which that change had taken place, in regard to what she might -have since undergone under the pressure of more stinging and -ascertained calamity. Thus, while he watched, he conjured up many a -painful fear, till reality could scarcely have matched his -anticipations. - -No Agnes, however, appeared; and the king began to deem that the -report of the confessor had been false, when he suddenly perceived the -flutter of white garments on the battlements of the castle. In almost -every person, some one of the senses is, as it were, peculiarly -connected with memory. In some it is the ear; and sounds that have -been heard in former days will waken, the moment they are breathed, -bright associations of lands, and scenes, and hours, from which they -are separated by many a weary mile, and many a long obliterating year. -In others, it is the eye, and forms that have been once seen are never -forgot; while those that are well known, scarce need the slightest, -most casual glance, to be recognised at once, though the distance may -be great, and their appearance but momentary. This was the case with -Philip Augustus; and though what he discerned was but as a vacillating -white spot on the dark grey walls of the castle, it needed no second -glance to tell him that _there_ was Agnes de Meranie. He tied his -horse to one of the shrubs, and with a beating heart sprang out into -the road, to gain a nearer and more satisfactory view of her he loved -best on earth. - -Secure in the concealment of his armour, he approached close to the -castle, and came under the wall, just as Agnes, followed by one of her -women, turned upon the battlements. Her cheek was indeed ashy pale, -with the clear line of her brown eyebrow marked more distinctly than -ever on the marble whiteness of her forehead. She walked with her -hands clasped, in an attitude that spoke that utter hopelessness in -all earth's things, which sees no resource on this side of the grave; -and her eyes were fixed unmovingly on the ground. - -Philip gazed as he advanced, not doubting that the concealment of his -armour was sure; but at that moment, the clang of the steel woke Agnes -from her reverie. She turned her eyes to where he stood. Heaven knows -whether she recognised him or not; but she paused suddenly, and -stretching her clasped hands towards him, she gazed as if she had seen -a vision, murmured a few inarticulate words, and fell back into the -arms of the lady who followed her. - -Philip sprang towards the gate of the castle, and already stood under -the arch of the barbican, when the vow that the pope had exacted from -him, not to pass the threshold of her dwelling till the lawfulness of -his divorce was decided, flashed across his mind, and he paused. Upon -a promise, that that decision should be within one half year, he had -pledged his knightly honour to forbear--that decision had not yet been -given; but the half-year was not near expired, and the tie of a -knightly vow he dared not violate, however strong might be the -temptation. - -The grate of the barbican was open, and at the distance of a few yards -within its limits stood several of the soldiers of the guard, with the -prévôt. Not a little surprise was excited amongst these by the sudden -approach of an armed knight, and at his as sudden pause. - -"What seek ye, sir knight?" demanded the prévôt,--"what seek ye here?" - -"News of the queen's health," replied the monarch. "I am forbidden to -pass the gate; but, I pray thee, sir prévôt, send to inquire how fares -the queen this morning." - -The officer willingly complied, though he somewhat marvelled at the -stranger's churlishness in resting without the threshold. The reply -brought from within by the messenger was that the queen had been -seized but a few minutes before by one of those swoons that so much -afflicted her, but that she had already recovered, and was better and -more cheerful since. The message, the man added, had been dictated by -the lady herself, which showed that she was better indeed, for in -general she seldom spoke to any one. - -It fell like a sweet drop of balm upon Philip's heart. There was -something told him that he had been recognised, and that Agnes had -been soothed and pleased, by the romantic mark of his love that he had -given; that she had felt for him, and with him; and dictated the reply -he had received, in order to give back to his bosom the alleviation -that his coming had afforded to her. With these sweet imaginations he -fell into a deep reverie, and forgetful of the eyes that were upon -him, paused for several minutes before the barbican, and then, slowly -returning on his steps, descended the hill to the thicket, where he -had left his horse; and throwing the bridle over his arm, led him on -the path by which he had come. - -"The churl!" said one of the soldiers, looking after him. "He did not -vouchsafe one word of thanks for our doing his errand." - -"Another madman! I will warrant thee!" said a second archer. - -"He is no madman that," replied the prévôt thoughtfully. "Put your -fingers on your lips, and hold your tongues, good fellows! I have -heard that voice before;" and, with a meaning nod of the head, he -quitted the barbican, and left the soldiers to unravel his mystery if -they could. - -In the meanwhile the king proceeded slowly on his way, chewing the cud -of sweet and bitter fancies, till he came near the same range of caves -which he had passed about an hour before. Every thing was still in the -same state; and no human being was visible. The gauntlet remained upon -the tree, seemingly only to have been touched by the wind of heaven; -and, scarcely thinking what he did, Philip approached, and reaching it -with his hand, took it down from the bough to which it was suspended. - -As he did so, however, a noise in the cave showed him that his action -was not without a witness; and, in a moment after, a tall, powerful -man issued forth, and advanced towards him. He was clothed in plate -armour, somewhat rusted with the damp; but the fine tracery of gold, -by which it had been ornamented, was still visible; and the spurs and -belt which he wore proclaimed him a knight. He held his casque in his -hand, busying himself as he advanced to disentangle the lacings of it, -as if in haste to put it on; and his head was bare, exposing a -profusion of long tangled dark hair, which was just beginning to be -slightly touched with grey. His face was as pale as ashes, and wan -beyond all mortal wanness; and in his large dark eyes there shone a -brilliant, wavering, uncertain fire, not to be mistaken for aught but -insanity. - -The king gazed on him, at once recognising his person; but hardly able -to believe that, in the wild lunatic before him, he saw the calm, -cold, tranquil Thibault of Auvergne. - -In the meanwhile the count came forward, impatiently twisting in his -haste the already tangled lacings of his helmet into still more -intricate knots. - -"Now, discourteous knight!--now!" cried he, glaring on the -king,--"now will I do battle with thee on the cause; and make you -confess that she is queen of France, and true and lawful wife of -Philip the king! Wait but till I have laced my casque, and, on horse -or on foot, I will give thee the lie! What! has the pope at length -sent thee to Mount Libanus to defy me? I tell thee, miscreant, I will -prove it against him, and all his host!" - -The first thought that passed through the brain of Philip Augustus, -was the memory of his ancient hatred to the unfortunate Count -d'Auvergne, and the revived desire of vengeance for the injury he -believed him to have attempted against him. Those feelings, however, -in their full force, soon left him; and pity for the unhappy state in -which he saw him, though it could not remove his dislike, put a bar -against his anger. "I come not to defy you, sir knight," said the -king. "You mistake me. I am a stranger wandering this way----" - -"The glove! the glove!" cried the count, interrupting him. "You have -taken down my glove--you have accepted the challenge. Have I not -written it up all over Mount Libanus, that whoever denies her to be -his lawful wife shall die? If you draw not your sword, I will cleave -you down as a traitor, and proclaim you a coward too. In Jerusalem and -in Ascalon, before the hosts of the crescent and the cross, I will -brand you as a felon, a traitor, and a coward.--Draw, draw, if you be -knight and noble!" - -So saying, he cast his casque away from him on the ground; and, -drawing his broadsword, rushed upon Philip with the fury of a lion. -Self-defence became now absolutely necessary, for the king well knew -that he was opposed to one of the best and most skilful knights of -Christendom, whose madness was no hindrance to his powers as a -man-at-arms; and consequently, loosing the bridle of his horse, he -drew his sword, and prepared to repel the madman's attack. - -The conflict was long and desperate, though, had not the natural -generosity of his disposition interfered, the king possessed an -infinite advantage over the Count d'Auvergne, whose head was, as we -have said, totally undefended. He refrained, however, from aiming one -blow at that vulnerable part of his antagonist's person, till his -scruples had nearly cost him his life, by the rings of his haubert -giving way upon his left shoulder. The Count d'Auvergne saw his -advantage, and pressed on with all the blind fury of insanity, at the -same time leaving his head totally unguarded. The heat of the combat -had irritated the monarch, and he now found it necessary to sacrifice -all other considerations to the safety of his own life. He opposed his -shield, therefore, to the thundering blows of his adversary; and -raising his heavy double-edged sword high above the count's naked -head, in another moment would have terminated his sorrows for ever, -when the blow was suspended by a circumstance which shall be related -hereafter. - - - - -CHAPTER V. - - -In the great hall of the ducal palace at Rouen, sat John, King of -England, now the undisputed possessor of the British throne; and, -though the blood of his nephew was scarce washed from his hands, and -the record of his crime scarce dry in the annals of the world, he bore -upon his lip that same idle smile, whose hideous lightness was the -more dreadful when contrasted with the profound depravity of his -heart. He was seated in an ivory chair, beneath a crimson dais, -gorgeously arrayed after the fashion of the day, and surrounded with -all the pomp of royalty. On his right hand stood the Earl of Pembroke, -with bitter grief and indignation written in his curled lip and -contracted brow, which found an answering expression in the -countenance of Lord Bagot, the Earl of Essex, and almost every English -peer in the presence. - -John saw their stern and discontented looks, and understood their -import well; but, strange to say, the chief cause of his fear being -removed by the death of Arthur, he felt a degree of triumphant joy in -the angry sorrow of his barons; and calculated upon easily calming -their irritation, before any new danger should arise to menace him. -Indeed, with his usual false calculation, he already planned a new act -of baseness, which, by punishing one who had contributed to the death -of Arthur, by betraying him at Mirebeau, he hoped might, in some -degree, satisfy those whom that death had rendered discontented; -forgetting, in his utter ignorance of such a thing as virtue, that, in -the eyes of the honest, one base act can never repair another. - -Close before the king, on the tapestry, which spread over the steps on -which his throne was raised, and extended some way into the hall, -stood no less a person than the Brabançois, Jodelle, now dressed in a -fine tunic of purple cloth, with a baldric of cloth of gold supporting -by his side a cross-hilted sword. - -His air was the invariable air of a _parvenu_, in which flippant, yet -infirm self-conceit, struggles to supply the place of habitual -self-possession, and in its eagerness defeats its object. Consummate -vanity, when joined with grace, will sometimes supply the place of -high breeding; but a man that doubts in the least is lost. Thus stood -Jodelle, smiling in the plenitude, as he thought, of royal favour; -yet, with irritable knowledge of his want of right to appear in such a -presence, glancing his eye from time to time round the proud barons of -England, who, occupied with thoughts of more dignified anger, scarcely -condescended to despise him. - -In the meanwhile, King John, as we have said, with a light and -sneering smile upon his lips, amused himself with the conceited -affectation of the Brabançois, who, enriched with the spoils of -Mirebeau and several other towns in Poitou, now presented himself to -claim the higher rewards that had been promised to his treachery. The -king smiled; yet, in the dark recesses of his cruel heart, he at the -very moment destined the man to death, with whom he jested as a -favoured follower. - -The simile of a cat and a mouse is almost as musty as the Prince of -Denmark's proverb; and yet perhaps there is no other that would so -aptly figure the manner in which John of England played with the -traitor, of whose services he had availed himself to take his nephew -prisoner. - -"Well, beau Sire Jodelle," said he, after the Brabançois had made his -obeisance, "doubtless you have exercised the royal permission we gave -you, to plunder our loving subjects of Poitou to some purpose. Nay, -your gay plumage speaks it. You were not feathered so, Sir Jodelle, -when last we saw you. But our homely proverb has it, 'Fine feathers -make fine birds.' Is it not so, Lord Pembroke?" - -"Not always, sir," answered the earl boldly. "I have known a vulture -plumed like an eagle, yet not deceive a daw!" - -John's brow darkened for an instant, but the next it was all clear -again, and he replied, "Your lordship follows a metaphor as closely as -a buzzard does a field mouse. Think you not, Sire Jodelle, that our -English lords have fine wits? Marry, if you had possessed as fine, you -would have kept at a goodly distance from us all; for there are -amongst us men that love you not, and you might chance to get one of -those sympathetic knots tied round your neck that draw themselves the -tighter the more you tug at them." - -"I fear not, sire," replied Jodelle, though there was a sneering touch -of earnest in the king's jests that made his cheek turn somewhat -pale,--"I fear not; trusting that you will grant me your royal -protection." - -"That I will, man!--that I will!" replied the monarch, "and elevate -you;" and he glanced his eyes round his court, to see if his jest was -understood and appreciated. Some of the courtiers smiled, but the -greater part still maintained their stern gravity; and John proceeded, -applying to the Coterel the terms of distinctions used towards -knights, not without an idea of mortifying those who heard, as well as -of mocking him to whom they were addressed. "Well, beau sire," he -said, "and what gives us the pleasure of your worshipful presence at -this time? Some business of rare import, doubtless, some noble or -knightly deed to be done." - -"I am ever ready to do you what poor service I may, sire," replied -Jodelle. "I come, therefore, to tell you that I have raised the band -of free-companions, for which you gave me your royal permission, and -to beg you to take order that they may have the pay[25] and -appointments which you promised." - - --------------------- - -[Footnote 25: It has been asserted that these troops received no pay, -but supported themselves by plunder. I find them, however, called -mercenaries in more than one instance, which clearly implies that they -fought for hire.] - --------------------- - - -"Thy demand shall be satisfied on that head," replied John, in a -serious and condescending tone, calculated to allay all fears in the -mind of Jodelle, if he had begun to conceive any. "By my faith! we -shall need every man-at-arms we can get, whether vassal or Brabançois, -for Philip of France threatens loud.--Now, Sir Jodelle, what more?" - -"Simply this order on your royal treasury," replied Jodelle, quite -re-assured by the king's last words. "Your treasurer refuses to acquit -it, without another direct warrant from you." - -"Give it to me," said the king, holding out his hand, into which -Jodelle, somewhat unwilling, placed the order for ten thousand crowns, -which he had received as the reward of his treachery. "And now," -proceeded John, "we will at once arrange these affairs, without the -least delay, for diligence in rendering justice to all men is a kingly -virtue. In the first place, then, for the appointments of the -free-companions raised by this worthy captain. We command you, William -Humet,[26] to send them off straight to the bands of our dearly -beloved Mercader, there to be drafted in, man by man, so that, being -well used and entertained, they may serve us truly and faithfully." - - --------------------- - -[Footnote 26: Constable of Normandy in the year 1200, and following, -as appears from a treaty between John and Philip, concluded at -Gueuleton.] - --------------------- - - -"But, sire!" exclaimed Jodelle, turning as pale as death. - -"Tut, man! tut!" cried the king, "we will find means to satisfy -every one. Hear us to an end. In regard to this order on our royal -treasury--stand forward, John of Wincaunton! You are deputy prévôt, -are you not?" - -A short, stout, bull-necked sort of person came forth from behind the -throne, and placing himself beside Jodelle, bowed in assent to the -king's question. - -"Well, then," proceeded John, "by my faith! you must serve me for -deputy treasurer also, for want of a better." - -John of Wincaunton, who had a keen apprehension of the king's jests in -this sort, bowed again, and making a sign, by holding up two of his -fingers, so as to be seen by a line of men-at-arms behind the circle -of nobles who occupied the front of the scene, he laid his other hand -upon Jodelle's arm, while two stout soldiers ran round and seized him -from behind. Such precautions, however, were utterly unnecessary, for -the first touch of the prévôt's hand upon his arm operated like -Prospero's wand. All power and strength seemed to go out of the -Brabançois' limbs; his arms hung useless by his side, his knees bent, -and his nether lip quivered with the very act of fear. - -"Take the caitiff," cried John, frowning on him bitterly,--"take him, -prévôt; carry him to the very bound of Normandy, and there see you -acquit me of all obligation towards him. Hang him up between Normandy -and France, that all men of both lands may see his reward; for, though -we may sometimes use such slaves for the deep causes of state -necessity, we would not encourage their growth. Away with him!" - -Jodelle struggled to speak, but his tongue seemed to cleave to the -roof of his mouth; and before he could force his throat to utterance, -a bustle at the other end of the long hall called the attention of -every one but himself. - -"Sir king! sir king! hear me, for mercy's sake!" cried the Brabançois, -as he was dragged away. But John heeded him not, fixing his eyes upon -the figure of the Earl of Salisbury, who, armed at all points except -the head, and covered with dust, pushed through the crowd of -attendants at the extremity of the apartment, followed by two or three -other persons, as dusty and travel-stained as himself. His cheek was -flushed, his brow was bent and frowning, and, without a show even of -reverence or ceremony, he strode up the centre of the hall, mounted -the steps of the throne, and standing beside the king's chair, bent -down his head, addressing John in a low and seemingly angry whisper. - -His coming, and the bold and irreverent manner in which he approached -the king, seemed to destroy at once the ceremony of the court. The -heart of almost every noble present was swelling with indignation at -the assassination of the unhappy Arthur, then already public, and by -most persons said to have been committed by the king's own hand; and -now, encouraged by the bold anger evident on the brow of John's -natural brother, they broke the circle they had formed, and, in a -close group, spoke together eagerly; while William Longsword continued -to pour upon the bloodthirsty tyrant on the throne a torrent of stern -reproaches, the more cutting and bitter from the under-tone in which -he was obliged to speak them. - -For the reproaches John little cared; but his eye glanced terrified to -the disturbed crowd of his nobles. He knew himself detested by every -one present: no one, but one or two of his servile sycophants, was -attached to him by any one tie on which he could depend. He knew what -sudden and powerful resolutions are often taken in such moments of -excitement; and, as he marked the quick and eager whisper, the -flashing eyes, and frowning brows of his angry barons, he felt the -crown tremble on his head. It was in the kindly feeling and generous -heart of his bastard brother alone that he had any confidence; and -grasping the earl's hand, without replying to his accusation, he -pointed to the group beside them, and cutting across the other's -whisper, said in a low voice, "See, see, they revolt! William, will -you too abandon me?" - -The earl glanced his eyes towards them, and instantly comprehended the -king's fears. "No," said he, in a louder voice than he had hitherto -spoke. "No! I will not abandon you, because you are my father's son, -and the last of his direct race; but you are a----." The earl bent his -lips to John's ear, and whispered the epithet in a tone that confined -it to him to whom it was addressed. That it was not a very gentle one -seemed plain from the manner in which it was given and which it was -received; but the earl then descended the steps of the throne, and -passing into the midst of the peers, grasped Lord Pembroke and several -others, one after the other, by the hand. - -"Pembroke!" said he, "Arundel! I pray you to be calm. 'Tis a bad -business this, and must be inquired into at another time, when our -minds are more cool, to take counsel upon it. But be calm now, I pray -you all, for my sake." - -"For your sake!" said the Earl of Pembroke, with a smile. "By Heavens! -Salisbury, we were just saying, that the best king that ever sat on -the English throne was a bastard; and we see not why another should -not sit there now. Why should not Rosamond of Woodstock produce as -good a son as the mother of William the Conqueror?" - -"Hush; hush!" cried Salisbury quickly, at the pointed allusion to -himself. "Not a word of that, my friends. I would not wrong my -father's son for all the crowns of Europe. Nor am I fit for a king; -but no more of that! Form round again, I pray you; for I have a duty -to perform as a knight, and would fain do it decently, though my blood -was up with what I heard on my arrival." - -The barons again, with lowering brows and eyes bent sternly on the -ground, as if scarce yet resolved in regard to their conduct, formed -somewhat of a regular sweep round the throne, while Lord Salisbury -advanced, and once more addressed the weak and cruel monarch, who sat -upon his throne, the most abject thing that earth can ever produce--a -despised and detested king. - -"My lord," said William Longsword, almost moved to pity by the sunk -and dejected air that now overclouded the changeable brow of the light -sovereign, "when we parted in Touraine, I yielded to your importunity -my noble prisoner, Sir Guy de Coucy, on the promise that you would -cherish and honour him, and on the pretence that you wished to win him -and attach him to your own person; reserving to myself, however, the -right of putting him at what ransom I pleased, and demanding his -liberty when that ransom should be paid. How much truth there was in -the pretence by which you won him from me, and how well you have kept -the promise you made, you yourself well know; but, on my honour, to do -away the stain that you have brought upon me, I would willingly free -the good knight without any ransom whatever, only that he himself -would consider such a proposal as an insult to a warrior of his high -fame and bearing. However that may be, I have fixed his ransom at -seven thousand crowns of gold; and here stands his page ready to pay -the same, the moment that his lord is free. I therefore claim him at -your hands; for, though I hear he is in that fatal tower, whose very -name shall live a reproach upon England's honour for ever, I do not -think that the man lives who would dare to practise against the life -of _my_ prisoner." - -"My Lord of Salisbury," replied John, raising his head, and striving -to assume the air of dignity which he could sometimes command; but as -he did so, his eyes encountered the stern bold look of William -Longsword, and the fixed indignant glances of his dissatisfied nobles; -and he changed his purpose in the very midst, finding that -dissimulation, his usual resource, was now become a necessary one. "My -Lord of Salisbury," he repeated, softening his tone, "thou art our -brother, and should at least judge less harshly of us than those who -know us less. A villain, construing our commands by his own black -heart, has committed within the walls of this town a most foul and -sacrilegious deed, and many wilful and traitorous persons seek to -impute that deed to us. Now, though it becomes us not, as a king, to -notice the murmurs of every fool that speaks without judgment; to you, -fair brother, and to any of our well-beloved nobles of England, we -will condescend willingly to prove that our commands were the most -opposite. This we will fully show you, on a more private occasion." - -As John spoke, and found himself listened to, he became more bold, and -proceeded. "In regard to our own time, during that unhappy day which -deprived us of our dear nephew, we could, were we put to such unkingly -inquisition, account for every moment of our time. The greater -part--nay, I might almost say the whole--was spent in reading -despatches from Rome and Germany with my Lords of Arundel and Bagot." - -"Except two hours in the morning, my lord, and from six till nine at -night, when I returned and found you wonderous pale and agitated," -replied Lord Bagot with a meaning look. - -"Our excellent friend, and very good knight, William de la Roche -Guyon, was with us at both the times you speak of," said the king, -turning towards the young Provençal, who stood near him, with a -gracious and satisfied air. "Was it not so, fair sir?" - -"It was, my lord," faltered William de la Roche Guyon; "but--" All the -barons, at the sound of that but, fixed their eyes upon him, as if the -secret was about to transpire; but John took up the sentence as he -hesitated to conclude it. - -"But,--you would say," proceeded the king,--"you went with me to the -Tower, where the poor child was confined, in the morning. True you -did.--'Tis true, my lords. But did you not hear me severely reproach -the captain of the Tower for placing the Sire de Coucy and the Duke of -Brittany in one small apartment, to the injury of the health of -both?--and did I not dismiss him for not lodging them better? Then -again, after vespers, did you ever see me quit the palace? Speak, I -charge you!" and he fixed his eye sternly on the effeminate face of -the young knight. - -Guillaume de la Roche Guyon turned somewhat pale, but confirmed the -king's statement; and John went on, gathering confidence and daring as -he proceeded. "This is enough for the present moment," said he: "we -will more of it hereafter; but when our exculpation shall be complete, -woe to him who shall dare to whisper one traitorous word upon this -score! In regard to your prisoner, my Lord of Salisbury, before -putting him at liberty, we would fain----" - -"Nothing before putting him at liberty, my lord," said the earl, in a -stern voice, "The prisoner is mine; I have agreed upon his ransom. -Here stands his page ready to pay the sum, and, moreover, whatever -charges may be incurred in his imprisonment; and I demand that he be -delivered to me this instant." - -"Well, well, fair brother," answered John, "be it as thou wilt. I will -despatch the order after dinner." - -"Haw! haw!" cried somebody from the bottom of the hall. "Haw! haw! and -perhaps De Coucy may be dispatched before dinner." - -"By my knighthood, the fool says true," cried the blunt earl.--"My -lord, as we have too fatal a proof that mistakes in commands lead to -evil effects within the walls of a prison, by your leave, we will -liberate this good knight without farther delay. I will go myself and -see it done." - -"At least," said the king, "to keep up the seeming of a respect that -you appear little inclined to pay in reality. Earl of Salisbury, take -a royal order for his release.--Clerk, let one be drawn." - -The clerk drew the order, and John read it over with a degree of -wilful slowness that excited not a little Lord Salisbury's suspicions. -At length, however, the king concluded; and, having signed it, he gave -it to the earl, saying, "There, deliver him yourself if you will--and -God send he may have eaten his dinner!" muttered the king to himself, -as William Longsword took the paper, and turned with hasty steps to -give it effect. "William!--William of Salisbury!" cried John, before -the other had traversed half the hall. "Which is the page? Shall he -count out the ransom while you are gone?" - -"That is the page," said the earl, turning unwillingly, and pointing -to Ermold de Marcy, who, accompanied by a herald and Gallon the fool, -with two men-at-arms, bearing bags of money, stood at the farther end -of the hall, in which the strange and painful scene we have -endeavoured to describe had taken place. "That is the page. Let him -tell down the ransom if you will. I will be back directly; 'tis but -ten paces to the Tower.--That is the page," he repeated, as he saw -John about to add some new question. - -"And the gentleman with the nose?" demanded the light monarch, unable, -under any circumstances, to restrain his levity. "And the gentleman -with the nose--the snout!--the proboscis!--If you love me, tell me who -is he?" - -But Salisbury was gone; and Gallon, as usual, took upon him to answer -for himself.--"Bless your mightiness," cried he, "I am twin brother of -John, King of England. Nature cast our two heads out of the same batch -of clay; she made him more knave than fool, and me more fool than -knave; and verily, because she gave him a crown to his head, and me -none, she furnished me forthwith an ell of nose to make up for it." - -"Thou art a smart fool, whatever thou art," replied John, glad to fill -up the time, during which he was obliged to endure the presence of his -barons, and the uncertainty of what the order he had given for De -Coucy's liberation might produce. "Come hither, fool;--and you, sir -page, tell down the money, to the secretary. And now, fool, wilt thou -take service with me? Wouldst thou rather serve a king, or a simple -knight?" - -"Haw! haw!" shouted Gallon, reeling with laughter, as if there was -something perfectly ridiculous in the proposition.--"Haw! haw! haw! I -am fool enough, 'tis true! But I am not fool enough to serve a king." - -"And why not?"' demanded John. "Methinks there is no great folly in -that. Why not, fellow?" - -"Haw, haw!" cried Gallon again. "A king's smiles are too valuable for -me. That is the coin they pay in, where other men pay in gold. -Besides, since the time of Noe downwards, kings have always been -ungrateful to their best subjects." - -"How so?" asked the king. "In faith, I knew not that the patriarch had -ever such a beast as thee in the ark." - -"Was not the dove the first that he turned out?" demanded Gallon, with -a look of mock simplicity, that called a smile upon even the stern -faces of the English barons. - -"Ha!" said John. "Thinkest thou thyself a dove? Thou art like it in -the face, truly!" - -"Not less than thou art like a lion," answered Gallon boldly. "And yet -men say you had once such a relation.--Haw, haw! Haw, haw, haw!" and -he sprang back a step, as if he expected John to strike him. - -But for a moment, leaving the conversation, which John for many -reasons continued to carry on with the juggler, though his replies -were of a more stinging quality than the monarch greatly relished, we -must follow Lord Salisbury to the prison of De Coucy. - -It was a little past that early hour at which men dined in those days; -and when the earl entered the gloomy vault that contained the young -knight, he found him seated by a table groaning under a repast not -very usual on the boards of a prison. - -De Coucy, however, was not eating, nor had he eaten, "though the -viands before him might well have tempted lips which had tasted little -but bread and water for many months before. - -"Salisbury!" exclaimed the knight, as the earl strode into the -chamber, with haste in his aspect, and symptoms of long travel in -every part of his dress. "Salisbury! Have you come at length?" - -"Hush! hush! De Coucy!" cried the earl, grasping his hand, "Do not -condemn me, without having heard. John persuaded me that he wished to -win you to his cause; and promised most solemnly that he would not -only treat you as a friend, but as a favourite. I am not the only one -he has deceived. However, till a fortnight since, I thought he had -carried you to England, as he declared he would. Your page, with -wonderful perseverance, traced me out amidst all the troubles in -Touraine, and offered your instant ransom. I sent to England to find -you--my messenger returned with tidings that you were here; and, -doubting false play, I set off without delay to release you. At every -town of Normandy I heard worse and worse accounts of my bad brother's -conduct.--Thank God, I am a bastard!--and when I come here, I learn -that that luckless boy, Arthur, is gone, God knows where, or how!" - -"I will tell you where you may find him, Salisbury," said De Coucy, -grasping the earl's arm, and fixing his eyes steadily on his face: "at -the bottom of the Seine. Do you mark me? At the bottom of the Seine!" - -"I guessed it," replied the earl, shutting his teeth, and looking up -to heaven, as if for patience.--"I guessed it!--Know you who did -it:--they say you were confined together." - -"Do I know who did it?" exclaimed De Coucy: "John of Anjou! your -brother! his uncle!" - -"Not with his own hand surely!" exclaimed Salisbury, drawing back with -a movement of horror. - -"As I hope for salvation in the blessed cross!" replied De Coucy, "I -believe he did it with his own hand. At least, full certainly, 'twas -beneath his own eye;" and he proceeded to detail all that he had -heard. "Before that day," continued the knight, "I was fed on bread -and water, or what was little better. Since--you see how they treat -me;" and he pointed to the table. "I have contented myself each -morning with half of one of those white loaves," he added: "first, -because this is no place for hunger; and next, because I would rather -not die like a rat poisoned in a granary." - -The earl hung his head for a moment or two in silence; and then again, -grasping De Coucy's hand, he said, "Come, good knight, come! Deeds -done cannot be amended. They are tumbled, like old furniture, into the -great lumber-house of the past, to give place to newer things, some -better and some worse. You were a prisoner but now--You are now free; -and believe me, on my honour, I would rather have laid my sword-hand -upon a block, beneath an axeman's blow, than that my noble friend -should have undergone such usage:--but come, your ransom by this time -is told down, and your attendants wait you in the palace hall. First, -however, you shall go to my lodging in Rouen, and do on my best -haubert and arms. There are horses in my stables, which have stood -there unridden for months. Take your choice of them; and God speed -you! for, though it be no hospitable wish, I long to see your back -turned on Normandy." - -De Coucy willingly accepted the earl's courtesy, and followed down the -stairs of the prison into the open air. He trod with the proud step of -a freeman: the sight of living nature was delight; the fresh breath of -heaven a blessing indeed; and when he stood once more clothed in -shining arms, he felt as if the bold spirit of his youngest days had -come back with redoubled force. - -As they proceeded to traverse the space which separated the lodging of -the Earl of Salisbury from the ducal palace, William Longsword -proceeded to give De Coucy a short account of all the steps which his -page had taken to effect his liberation, and which, however brief, we -shall not repeat here; it being quite sufficient to the purposes of -this history, that the knight was liberated. - -Salisbury and De Coucy mounted the stairs of the palace with a rapid -pace: but, at the hall door, they paused for a single moment: -"Salisbury!" said De Coucy with a meaning tone, "I must do my duty as -a knight!" - -"Do it!" replied the earl with firm sadness, understanding at once the -young knight's meaning. "Do it, De Coucy--God forbid that I should -stay a true knight from doing his devoir!" - -So saying, he led the way into the hall. - -John was still jesting with Gallon the fool. The barons were standing -around, some silently listening to the colloquy of the king and the -juggler, some speaking together in a low voice. At a table, on one -side of the hall, where sat the secretary, appeared De Coucy's page, -Ermold de Marcy, with a herald; and on the board between him and the -clerk, lay a large pile of gold pieces, with the leathern bags which -had disgorged them, while one of the men behind held a similar pouch, -ready to dispose of its contents as need might be. - -De Coucy advanced to the table, and welcomed his page with an -approving smile, while the herald cried in a loud voice to call -attention: "Oyez, Oyez! Hear, hear!" and then tendering the ransom in -set form, demanded the liberation of Sir Guy de Coucy. The ransom was -accepted with the usual ceremonies, and a safe conduct granted to the -knight through the territories of the king of England; which being -done, De Coucy advanced from the table up the centre of the hall. - -What had before passed had taken place at such a distance from the -throne, that John found it no difficult matter to keep his eyes in -another direction, though he was now speaking with William de la Roche -Guyon, as Gallon the fool had left him on his lord's entrance, and was -standing by the table, his nose at the same time wriggling with most -portentous agitation, as he saw the gold delivered by the page, and -taken up by the secretary. The monarch had thus affected scarcely to -see the young knight; but now De Coucy advanced, with slow, marked -steps, directly towards him, accompanied pace by pace by the herald, -who, with that sort of instinctive knowledge of every chivalrous -feeling which the officers of arms in that day are said to have -possessed, made a quick movement forward as they neared the throne, -though without any command to that effect; and exclaimed in a loud -tone,--"Hear! John, king of England! Hear!" - -John looked up, and turned a frowning brow upon De Coucy. But the -knight was not to be daunted by fierce looks, even from a king; and he -proceeded boldly and in a slow distinct voice. "John of Anjou!" he -said, "false traitor, and assassin! I, Guy de Coucy, knight, do accuse -you here in your palace, and on your throne, of the murder of your -nephew, Arthur Plantagenet, rightful king of England; and to your -beard I call you mansworn, traitor, murderer, and felon--false knight, -discourteous gentleman, and treacherous king! Moreover, whoever does -deny the murder of which I here accuse you, I give him the lie, and -will prove it, my hand against his, according to the law of arms." - -There was an awful pause. "Have I so many barons and noble knights -around me," cried John at length, "and not one of them noble and brave -enough to repel the insults offered to their king, in their presence, -by this braggart Frenchman?" - -Several of the circle stepped forward, and De Coucy cast down his -glove, for him to take it that chose; but Lord Pembroke waved his -hand, exclaiming, "Hold, lords and knights! hold! We must not make -ourselves champions of a bad cause. Such is not the courage of true -knights. My lord the king! the nobles of England have ever been found -too willing to cast away their lives and fortunes in their monarch's -defence; and there is not one man in this presence that, give him a -good cause, and he would not meet in arms the best Frenchman that ever -was born. When, therefore, my lord, you shall satisfactorily have -proved that this charge against you is false, the swords of a thousand -British knights will start from their sheaths to avenge your quarrel; -and I, as your lord marshal, claim to be the first. - -"With all respect, my Lord de Coucy," he added, while John bit his lip -with bursting mortification, "I raise your glove, and pledge myself to -meet you in arms within three months, if I find cause to judge your -words bold and untrue. If not, I will either yield the gage to -whatever true knight can, on his conscience, meet you, or will render -it back unto you honourably, in default of such. I am right willing -ever to do battle with a brave man; but I could never fight, with the -ghost of Arthur Plantagenet crying that my cause was evil." - -So saying, he raised the glove, and De Coucy, darting a glance of -bitter scorn at John, bowed his head to Lord Pembroke, and proceeded -down the hall to the place where he had left William Longsword. The -earl, however, had not stayed to hear the accusation that he knew was -about to be launched at his brother, and which, as he could not -refute, he dared not resent. - -De Coucy found him on the steps of the palace, at the bottom of which -stood a fresh horse, prepared for himself, together with the beasts of -Ermold the page, the herald, Gallon the fool, and the two men-at-arms, -who had carried the money to pay the knight's ransom. To these were -added the escort of a body of horse archers, to guard the young knight -safe through the English territory. This, however, he declined; and, -grasping the hand of the Earl of Salisbury, between whose bosom and -his own existed that mutual esteem which all noble minds feel towards -each other, he sprang upon his horse, and galloped with all speed out -of Rouen. - - - - -CHAPTER VI. - - -The road that De Coucy followed had been made, apparently, without the -least purpose of proceeding straight to Paris, though it ultimately -terminated there; but its object seemed more particularly to visit -every possible place on the way, without leaving the smallest village -within several miles of the direct line to complain of being -neglected. Thus, instead of cutting off angles, and such other -whimsical improvements of modern days, it proceeded along the banks of -the river, following, with a laudable pertinacity, all the turnings -and windings thereof. This sort of road, which uncommonly resembles -the way in which I have been obliged to relate this most meandering of -histories, is doubtless very agreeable when you have plenty of time to -stay and amuse yourself with the pleasures of this prospect or -that--to get off your horse to gather a flower upon the bank--to pause -under the shadow of a tree, and pant in concert with your beast in the -cool air; but when you are in a hurry, then is the time to bless -modern shorts cuts. Such must by my case; for, having a long way -before me, and a short space to do it in, I must abridge De Coucy's -journey as much as possible; and, only staying to relate two events -which occurred to him on the road, must hasten to bring him, together -with my other characters, to that one point to which all their -histories are tending. - -Passing over, then, the follies of Gallon the fool, who, -notwithstanding all his maniac malice, felt he knew not what of joy at -his lord's deliverance, and all the details given by Ermold de Marcy -concerning his various peregrinations and negotiations, together with -the young knight's joyful feelings on his liberation, and his -sorrowful ones at the accounts he heard of the unhappy Count -d'Auvergne, we will bring the whole party at once to that high hill -from which the lower road to Paris descends rapidly on the little, -dirty, old-fashioned town called the _Pont de l'Arche_. - -There being few things more uncertain in the world than the smiles of -beauty and the boundaries of kingdoms, the limits of France, which -have been here, and there, and every where, within the last few -centuries, were fixed, on the precise day I speak of, at the Pont de -l'Arche. That hill being then the extreme limit of King John's Norman -dominions, his deputy prévôt, John of Wincaunton, was, at the very -moment De Coucy and his followers arrived at the summit of the hill, -engaged in the very praiseworthy occupation of hanging the Brabançois, -Jodelle, to one of the highest elms in the land. - -It must not, however, be inferred that the hanging had actually -commenced; for though the prévôt, with a party of six or seven men, -very well calculated to hang their neighbours, stood round Jodelle -under the tree, while one of their companions fastened the end of a -thick noose tightly to one of the strongest branches, yet the -plunderer's neck was still free from that encumbrance so fatal to -persons of his profession. - -There are various sorts of bravery; and Jodelle was a brave man, of a -certain sort. He had never shown himself afraid of death; and yet, the -idea of hanging affected him with mortal fear--whether he fancied that -that peculiar position would be unpleasant to him or not, can hardly -be said; but certain it is, though he had never shrunk from death in -the battle-field, his face looked already that of a corpse; his limbs -shook, and his teeth chattered, at the sight of the awful preparations -that were carrying on around him. - -What is there to which hope will not attach itself? Even the sight of -De Coucy, whom he had sold to his enemies, awoke a dream of it in the -breast of the Brabançois, and with pitiful cries he adjured the knight -to save him from the hands of his executioners. - -The men of the prévôt stood to their arms; but the knight's reply soon -showed them they had no molestation to fear from him. "Villain," -answered he, "if I saved thee from their hands, it should be but to -impale thee alive! Every drop of Prince Arthur's blood cries vengeance -upon thee! and, by Heaven! I have a mind to stay and see thee hanged -myself!" - -"Haw, law!" cried Gallon the fool,--"Haw, haw! Beau sire Jodelle! It -strikes me, they are going to hang thee, beau sire! Undo the haussecol -of thy doublet, man. They are going to give thee one of tighter stuff. -Haw, haw, Sire Brabançois! Haw, haw! Why pray you not the Coucy again? -Perchance he may be moved. Or, rather, why pray you not me? I am the -only man in the troop that can aid thee--Haw, haw, haw! haw, haw! I -could save thee if I would!" - -"Thou wouldst not if thou couldst, fiend," replied Jodelle, glaring on -him with eyes in which wrath struggled with terror, for his -executioners were now actually adjusting the noose to his neck, and -his pinioned hands might be seen to quiver with the agonising -anticipation of destruction. "I do now believe thee a devil indeed, as -thou once toldest me, for none but the devil could mock me in such a -moment as this." - -"Haw, haw, haw! Haw, haw, haw!" roared Gallon, rolling on his horse -with laughter. "Dost thou believe? Well, then, for that I will save -thee;" and, riding up to the prévôt, the juggler thrust his snout into -that officer's ear, and whispered a few words, in regard to the truth -of which the other seemed at first doubtful. Gallon, however, -exclaimed, "'Tis true, thou infidel! 'tis true! I heard the order -given myself! Look ye there!--There comes the messenger down in the -valley--Haw, haw, haw! Ye fools! Thought you king John could spare so -useful a villain as that?" - -The prévôt gazed in the direction wherein the juggler pointed; and -then made a sign to his men to put a stop to the preparations, which -they were hurrying forward with most unseemly haste; while Gallon, -with a patronising sort of nod to Jodelle, and a loud laugh, rode on -after De Coucy, who had not waited to listen to the termination of the -eloquent conversation between the juggler and the coterel. At the -bottom of the hill, however, the young knight turned his head, never -doubting that he should behold the form of his late follower dangling -from the elm; but, to his surprise, he perceived two of the men -placing Jodelle on horseback, still apparently bound, and the rest -hastening to mount their own beasts, while a horseman was seen -conversing with the prévôt. - -"By St. Paul! if thou hast saved that fellow from the hands of the -hangman," cried De Coucy, "thou art a juggler indeed, and a -mischievous one to boot, friend Gallon!" - -"'Twas not I saved him, friend Coucy," replied Gallon, who was in -somewhat of a saner state of mind than usual. "'Twas our very good -friend and patron, John, King of England; and I'll tell thee what, -Coucy, if you ill-treat me, and thump me, as you used sometimes to do, -I'll e'en take service with him, John of Anjou, and leave you! Haw, -haw! What do you think of that? Or else I'll go and live with fair -William de la Roche Guyon," he added, in his rambling way. "He loves -me dearly, does William de la Roche Guyon. So I'll go and live with -him, when I want to better myself. Haw, haw! Then I shall always be -near the pretty Lady Isadore of the Mount, whom good King John of -England gave to fair Count William this morning, for standing by him -in his need, as he said. 'Twas all in a whisper; but I would have -heard it had it been twice a whisper; my ears are as fine as my nose. -Haw, haw!" - -De Coucy had drawn his rein at the first word of these very pleasing -tidings, which Gallon communicated with a broad lack-lustre stare, -from which he had banished every particle of speculation; so that, -whether it was true or false, a dreadful reality or an idiotic jest, -was in no degree to be gathered from his countenance. - -"What is that you say?" cried the knight. "Tell me, good Gallon, for -the love of Heaven, are you serious in your news?" - -"Good Gallon!--Haw! haw!" shouted the jongleur,--"Good Gallon! He'll -call me pretty Gallon next!--Haw, haw, haw!--Coucy, you are mad!" - -"For God's sake!" cried the knight earnestly, "do not drive me mad -really; but, for once, try to give me a connected answer. Say! What -was it you heard that traitorous king say to the beardless, womanly -coward, William de la Roche Guyon?" - -"Give you a connected answer!" replied Gallon, suddenly assuming an -unwonted gravity. "Why should you doubt my giving you one? I'm not -mad, Coucy! I'll tell you what the king said, as wisely as he that -spoke it. William de la Roche, whispered he, with the face of a cat -lapping a saucer full of cream--William de la Roche, you have stood by -me this day in my need, and I will not forget it." - -And Gallon, though with a countenance as unlike that of John of Anjou -as any human face could well be, contrived to imitate the king's look -and manner, so as to leave no earthly doubt, not only that he had said -what the fool attributed to him, but that he had also precisely said -it as was represented. - -"Well then," continued the jongleur, "the noble king bade him, fair -William de Roche as aforesaid, take the fair Lady Isadore from the -castle of Moulineaux, hard by Rouen, where her father, Count Julian -the Wise, had left her under the care of the Lady Plumdumpling, or -some such English name; and when he had got her, to carry her whither -he would, as quickly as possible. And the sweet potentate John, with -true kingly consideration for the happiness of his lieges, added this -sage counsel to the aforesaid William, namely, that if he liked, he -might marry the maid; but if he liked light love better than broad -lands, he might make his leman of her." - -"By the Lord, fool! if thou deceivest me, thou shall rue it!" cried De -Coucy. "I believe not thy tale! How came her father to trust her from -his sight?" - -"I fear me, my lord. Gallon is right," said Ermold de Marcy, who -various negotiations had somewhat rubbed off the rawness of his youth, -and given him confidence to address his master more boldly. "In my -wanderings about, striving to achieve your ransom, I have heard much -of Count Julian and his proceedings; and I thus learned, that not long -after your capture, he left the court of King John, to raise all his -vassals for the great alliance that, men say, is forming against King -Philip, leaving the Lady Isadore as a hostage for his faith, with the -Lady Plymlymman of Cornouaille, chatelaine of the castle of -Moulineaux. So that Gallon's tale is too likely to be true." - -While the page spoke, the juggler drew his two eyes together upon De -Coucy's countenance, watching, with a fiendish sort of pleasure, the -workings of all those powerful feelings that the news he had given had -cast into commotion. At length he burst into a loud laugh. "Haw, haw!" -cried he. "Haw, haw, haw! De Coucy's in a rage!--Now, Coucy, now, -think of the very best way of cleaving me down Guillaume de la Roche -from the crest to the saddle. Haw, haw, haw! Oh, rare! Crack his skull -like a walnut-shell, and leave him no more brains than a date-stone. -Haw, haw! haw, haw!" - - - - -CHAPTER VII. - - -There was a party of travellers wound down through the beautiful -valleys, and over the rich hills that lie between Pacy and Rolleboise, -proceeding slowly and calmly, though with a certain degree of -circumspection, as if they were not at all without their share of the -apprehensions to which travellers of every kind were exposed in those -days, and yet were embarrassed by the presence of some one, whose sex -or age prevented them from proceeding more rapidly. - -At the head of the cavalcade were seen, agitated by the breeze, -various of those light habiliments which have been used in all ages to -give the female figure a degree of butterfly flutter, which seems to -court pursuit; and it appeared out of consideration for the frailer -limbs of the part of the troop thus clothed, that the iron-clad -warriors which formed the main body proceeded at so slow and easy a -pace. - -The whole party might consist of fifty persons, four or five of whom, -by their pennons and arms, were distinguished as knights; while the -rest showed but the sword and buckler of the squire, or the archer's -quiver, long bow, and round target. Except an _éclaireur_ thrown out -before to mark the way, the female part of the troop took the lead; -and, as far as could be judged from appearance, the rest was but an -escort attending upon them. - -One of the knights, however, whose helmet nodded with plumes, and -whose arms were glittering with gold, ever and anon spurred forward, -and, with bending head and low musical voice, addressed a few words to -the fair girl who headed the troop, demanding now whether she was -fatigued, now whether she felt the cold, now promising speedy repose, -and now offering a few words of somewhat commonplace gallantry, -concerning bright eyes, rosy lips, and inspiring smiles. - -To his questions concerning her comfort, the lady replied briefly, and -as coldly as courtesy permitted; and to his gallant speeches, the -chilling unmoved glance of her large dark eye might have afforded -sufficient answer, had he been one easily rebuffed. The only -uncalled-for words which she addressed to him herself tended but to -ask where it was that her father had appointed to meet her; and on his -replying that a place called Drocourt had been named, some five -leagues farther, she relapsed into silence. - -The young knight, however, though on every check he received he sunk -back into himself with an air of deep despondency, still returned to -his point, holding perseverance to be the most serviceable quality in -the world in all dealings with the fair; and thus, from time to time, -he continued his assiduities, notwithstanding cold looks and scanty -answers; till at length the road, descending, began to wind along the -banks of the Seine. - -Here his attention became more entirely directed to precautions -against surprise; and the increased haste and circumspection which he -enjoined, seemed to imply that he found himself upon hostile and -dangerous ground. - -"See you no ferry boat," cried he, "along the river!--Look out, -Arnoul!--look out! We must get across as soon as may be." - -"The ferry lies beyond this woody tongue of land, my lord," replied -the man. "'Tis not half a mile hence, and there is no town between; so -we may pass easily;" and, spurring on, the party entered the pass, -between the wood which skirted down from the road to the river on the -one side, and the high chalky cliffs on the other. - -The knight in the gilded armour had received a fresh rebuff from the -lady whose favour he seemed so anxious to win; and, having retired to -his companions, who, as we have shown, were a few steps behind, was -conversing with them in an earnest but under-tone, when from an ambush -in the wood, which had escaped even the eyes of the advanced scout, -rushed forth a body of horsemen, with such rapid force as to separate -entirely the female part of the cavalcade from their escort. - -It was done in an instant; but, in truth, it needed such rapidity of -attack to render it, in itself, any thing short of madness; for, when -the escort recovered in a degree from their first astonishment, they -found that seven men formed the whole force that had thrown them into -such confusion. Before, however, this became apparent, the leader of -their adversaries shouting, "A Coucy! A Coucy!" spurred like lightning -upon the knight we have before mentioned, and at one blow of his -battle-axe dashed him under his horse's feet. A squire behind shared -the same fate; a man-at-arms followed; and each of De Coucy's -followers, fighting as if inspired by the same daring valour that -animated their lord, the escort were driven back along the road, -leaving four or five saddles vacant. Then, however, the tide of the -battle turned. The knights at the head of the escort saw the handful -of men to which they were opposed, and, ashamed of yielding a step to -so scanty a body, four of them united their efforts to attack De -Coucy, while another rallied their followers; and the young knight was -in turn driven back, now striking at one, now at another, now parrying -the blows that were aimed at himself, and now showering them thick -upon the head of the opponent that he had singled out for the moment. - -Separated from the escort which attended her, the lady we have -mentioned, with her women, had in the meanwhile endeavoured to escape -from the scene of strife which had so suddenly arisen, by hurrying on -upon the road; but the scout, who had turned at the first noise of the -affray, caught her bridle, and, notwithstanding her prayers and -entreaties, would not suffer her to proceed. - -The danger indeed to which she was exposed was not for the moment -great, as, by this time, the first impetuous attack of De Coucy and -his followers had driven the escort back beyond the turn of the wood; -and nothing could be gathered of the progress of the fight but from -the trampling of the horses heard sounding this way or that, and the -cries and shouts of the combatants approaching or receding as the -battle turned. - -"Lady Isadore! Lady Isadore!" cried a girl who followed her. "It is -the Sire de Coucy. Hear you not his battle-cry? and I am sure I saw -Ermold the page strike down an archer twice as big as himself. God -send them the victory!" - -"Hush! foolish girl! hush!" cried Isadore of the Mount, leaning her -head to listen more intently. "Hark, they are coming this way! Free my -bridle, soldier! Free my bridle, for the love of Heaven! How dare you, -serf, to hold me against my will? You will repent, whoever wins!" - -The soldier, however, heeded neither the lady's entreaties nor her -threats, though it so happened that it would have proved fortunate to -himself had he done so; for, in a moment after, De Coucy, driven back -by the superior force to which he was opposed, appeared at the turn of -the wood, striking a thundering blow on the crest of one of the -knights who pressed closely on him, while the three others spurred -after at about three horse-lengths' distance. - -No sooner had the blow descended, than the knight's quick glance fell -upon Isadore. "Fly, Isadore, fly!" cried he. "You have been deceived -into the power of traitors!--Fly! up the path to the right! To the -castle on the hill!" But, as he spoke, he suddenly perceived the -soldier holding her rein, and forcing her horse up a bank somewhat of -the current of the fight. Like lightning, De Coucy wheeled his -charger; and, disappointing, by the turn he took, a blow that one of -his adversaries was discharging at his head, he swung his battle-axe -round in the air, and hurled it with sure and unerring aim at the -unhappy scout. It needed a firm heart and well-practised hand to -dismiss such a fatal missile in a direction so near the person of one -deeply beloved. But De Coucy had both; and rushing within two feet of -Isadore of the Mount, the head of the ponderous axe struck the soldier -full on the neck and jawbone, and dashed him from his horse, a ghastly -and disfigured corpse. - -"Fly, Isadore! fly!" repeated De Coucy, at the same moment drawing his -sword, and spurring his charger furiously against the first of his -opponents. "Fly up to the right! The castle on the hill!--the castle -on the hill!" - -Isadore required no second injunction, but parted like an arrow from -the scene of the battle, while De Coucy made almost more than mortal -efforts to drive back the enemy. - -Though he thus gave her time to escape, his valour and skill were of -course in vain, opposed to numbers not inferior to himself in personal -courage, and clothed in arms equal to those by which he was defended. -All he could do was to give his scattered followers time again to -collect about him; and then, satisfied with having delivered Isadore, -to keep up a defensive fight along the road. - -Even this, however, was difficult to conduct successfully in the face -of a body of men so much superior to his own in numbers eager to -avenge themselves upon him, and hurried on by the knowledge, that, -being upon adverse ground, they must win their revenge quickly, or not -at all. The four knights pressed on him on all sides, striving to bear -him down to the earth; his armour was hacked and splintered in many -parts; his shield was nearly cleft in two with the blow of a -battle-axe; several of the bars of his visor were dashed to pieces, so -as to leave his face nearly uncovered; but still he retreated slowly, -with his face to his enemies, shouting from time to time his -battle-cry, to cheer the spirits of his men, and striking terrible -sweeping blows with his long sword, whenever his opponents made a -general rush upon him. - -One of these united attacks, however, had nearly proved fatal to the -gallant young knight; for, in suddenly backing his horse to avoid it, -the animal's feet struck against a felled tree, and he went down at -once upon his haunches. "A Coucy! a Coucy!" cried the knight, striving -to spur him up; but all four of his antagonists pressed upon him at -once, beating him down with repeated blows, when suddenly two new -combatants were added to the fight, Philip Augustus and the Count -d'Auvergne. - -Both, though we have seen them in a preceding chapter opposed hand to -hand, suddenly ceased their mutual conflict, and rushed forward to -strike upon the side of De Coucy. The Count d'Auvergne, warned by his -friend's well-known battle-cry, rushed, bare-headed as he was, into -the midst of the struggle, and, striking with all the energy of -insanity, dashed at once the foremost of the young knight's opponents -to the earth. The king, recognising instantly, by the Norman fashion -of their harness, the followers of his enemy King John, sprang on his -horse; and, with the same chivalrous spirit that induced him in former -days to attack King Richard's whole army near Courcelles with scarce -two hundred knights in his own train, he cast himself in the foremost -of the battle, and plied his weapon with a hand that seldom struck in -vain. - -The struggle, by its greater equality, now became more desperate; but -it was soon rendered no longer doubtful, by the sight of a body of -horse coming down at full speed on the road from the castle. The -Normans, who had followed Guillaume de la Roche Guyon, now hastened to -effect their retreat, well knowing that whatever fresh troops arrived -on the spot must necessarily swell the party of their adversaries. -They made an effort, however, in the first place, to deliver their -companion who had been struck down by the Count d'Auvergne; but -finding it impossible, they turned their horses, and retreated along -the line of road over which they had advanced, only pausing for an -instant at the spot where the contest had first begun to aid William -de la Roche himself, who had, as we have shown, been cast from his -horse by a blow of De Coucy's battle-axe; and now sat by the -road-side, somewhat stunned and dizzied by his fall, and completely -plundered of his fine armour. - -"Haw! haw!" shouted some one from the top of one of the leafless trees -hard by, as they remounted the discomfited cavalier. "Haw! haw! haw!" -and in a moment. Gallon the fool cast down one of the gay gauntlets on -the head of its former owner, laughing till the whole cliffs rang, to -see it strike him on the forehead, and deluge his fair effeminate face -with blood. The Normans had not time to seek vengeance; for De Coucy's -party, reinforced by the troop from the castle, hung upon their rear, -and gave them neither pause nor respite till the early night, -following a day in February, closed in upon the world; and, fatigued -with so long a strife, the pursuers drew the rein, and left them to -escape as they might. - -So fierce and eager had been the pursuit, that scarce a word had -passed between De Coucy's party and their new companions, till, by -common accord, they checked their horses' speed. - -It was then that the two brothers in arms turned towards each other, -each suddenly grasping his friend's hand with all the warmth of old -affection. "D'Auvergne!" cried De Coucy, gazing on his friend's face, -down which the blood was streaming from a wound in his temple, giving -to his worn and ashy countenance, in the twilight of the evening, an -appearance of scarcely human paleness. - -"De Coucy!" replied D'Auvergne, fixing his eyes on the broken bars of -the young knight's helmet. "De Coucy!" he repeated; and, turning away -his head with a look of painful consciousness, he carried his hand to -his brow, as if sensible of his infirmity, adding, "I have been ill, -my friend--the hot sun of the desert, and Agnes' cold words when I -delivered her father's message--a message I had sworn on my knighthood -to deliver----" - -"Ha! Then it was not"--cried Philip eagerly: "but let us return to -some place of repose!" added he, remembering his disguise, and cutting -across a topic which, besides being painful to himself, he loved not -to hear canvassed near the ears of strangers. "Let us return to some -place of repose. We have to thank you, sir knight," he added, turning -to the leader of the horsemen who had joined them from the castle--"we -have to thank you for your timely aid." - -"Not so, beau sire," replied the knight, bowing to his saddle-bow. "We -were warned of the strife by a lady, who claimed refuge in the castle; -and we instantly came down to strike for France." - -"You did well!" replied the king. "Hark, you, sir knight;" and -approaching his horse, he spoke for some moments to him in an -under-voice, to which the only reply was, "You shall be obeyed." - -In the mean while, the men-at-arms and the followers of De Coucy, who -had paused to breathe after the first heat of the affray, began to -mingle in conversation upon the events that had just taken place, and -the causes which had given rise to them; and very soon all the noise -and clamour of explanation, and wonderment, and questioning, and -boasting succeeded, which usually follows any very active struggle. In -the course of this hubbub, De Coucy's name, situation, quality, the -news he had heard concerning Guillaume de la Roche Guyon, and the -means he had taken to surprise him, and deliver the lady Isadore, were -explained to every body whom it might concern, with that almost -childish frankness and simplicity, which was one of the chief -characteristics of the age of chivalry. - -To this the king listened attentively; and then, turning to De Coucy, -he said, "Sir Guy de Coucy, this adventure which you have just -achieved is worthy of your other exploits! I will beg leave to ride -with your train to Paris, where doubtless you are going. This good -knight," he added, pointing to the leader of the troop from the -castle, "informs me, that the lady your good sword has delivered from -that traitor Guillaume de la Roche Guyon, is in safety with the fair -queen Agnes, and he adds, that it is the queen's will, that no man, -except the garrison of the castle, shall be admitted within the -walls." - -"If such be the case, I must submit of course," replied De Coucy; "and -yet I would fain speak but a few words to the lady Isadore, to inform -her why I attacked her escort; for, beyond all doubt, they lured her -away from the château of Moulineaux, upon some fine pretext." - -"I will take care that your conduct be rightly stated, beau sire," -replied the officer. "But as to your speaking with the lady, I fear it -cannot be; for the queen will doubtless hold her, both as a liege -vassal of the crown, and as hostage for her father's faith; and she -has vowed, that during her absence from our noble lord the king, no -man shall enter her gates, except such persons as the king himself has -placed about her. Be assured, however, sir knight, that the lady shall -receive all honourable treatment, and that your high deeds and noble -prowess shall be spoken of in becoming terms." - -De Coucy mused a moment. "Well," said he at length; "what must be, -must be! To Paris then! for I bear the king both sad and important -news." - -"Ha?" cried Philip; but then again remembering his disguise, he added, -"Are they such as a stranger may hear? - -"They are such, sir unknown knight," replied De Coucy, "as will be -soon heard of far and wide. But the king's ears must be the first to -hear my tale. D'Auvergne," he added, turning to the count. "I pray -you, let my page bind up that gash upon your temple. If I see rightly -by this pale light, the blood is streaming from it still. Let him -stanch it for thee, I pray!" - -"Not so, not so! good friend," replied, the count, who, while this -conversation had been passing amongst the rest, had been leaning -silently against an oak, with his eyes bent thoughtfully upon the -ground,--"Not so! It does me good. Methinks that every drop which -trickles down and drops on the dust at my feet, takes some of the fire -out of my brain. I have been mad, I fear me, De Coucy, I am not quite -right yet; but I know, I feel, that I have done this good knight some -wrong. Pardon me, sir knight," he added, advancing to the king, and -extending his hand, "pardon me, as you are a good knight and true." - -"I do, from my soul," replied the monarch, grasping the count's -offered hand, and casting from his heart at the same moment far -greater feelings of enmity than any one present knew but himself:--"I -do from my soul. But you stagger! you are faint! Bind up his wound, -some one! Stanch the blood; he has lost too much already!" - -The monarch spoke in a tone of command that soon called prompt -obedience. The Count d'Auvergne's wound was instantly bound up; but, -before the bleeding could be stopped, he fainted, and in that state -was borne to the cave from which he had first issued to attack the -king. Here he was laid on a bed of moss and straw, which seemed to -have formed his usual couch; and was after some difficulty recalled to -animation. - -De Coucy, having so far seen him restored to a state of safety, -burthened with the tidings of Arthur's murder, which he was eager to -announce as soon as possible to the sovereign and peers of France, -took leave of his unhappy friend; and leaving his page and one of his -men to guard and tend him, he set out with the king on the road to -Paris. Two prisoners who had been taken, as well as one of De Coucy's -followers severely wounded, were left in charge of the seneschal of -the castle, who also undertook to see the rights of sepulture bestowed -on one or two of the soldiers whose lives had been sacrificed in the -affray. - - - - -CHAPTER VIII. - - -The particulars of De Coucy's journey to Paris are not worth -recording. He paused for two hours at a village near Meulan, with his -followers and his royal companion, for the purpose of resting their -weary horses; but neither of the knights took any repose themselves, -though the fatigues they had undergone might well have called for it. - -The conduct of De Coucy somewhat puzzled the king; for it evinced a -degree of calm respect towards him, which Philip judged the young -knight would hardly have shown had he not recognised him by some of -those signs, which, when seized on by a keen and observing eye, render -disguises almost always abortive. - -At the same time, neither by indiscreet word, or meaning glance, did -De Coucy betray that he had any absolute knowledge of the quality of -him whose limbs that plain armour covered. He spoke frankly and freely -on all subjects, started various topics of conversation himself, and -in short, took care to bound his respect to grave courtesy, without -any of that formal reverence which might have directed the attention -of others to what he had observed himself. - -There was one, however, in the train not quite so cautious. - -Gallon the fool--though we left him last at the top of one of the -highest oaks in the wood, whither he had carried, piece by piece, the -rich armour he had stripped from Guillaume de la Roche Guyon, together -with a well-lined pouch of chamois leather--had since taken care to -rejoin the victorious party, with all his acquirements nicely bundled -up on the crupper of his horse, forming a square not unlike the pack -with which wandering minstrels travelled in those days. - -On the road he was very still and thoughtful. Whether it was that he -was calculating in silence the value of his plunder, or that he was -sullen from fatigue, his companions could not well tell, but when the -party stopped, Gallon watched his opportunity, when De Coucy was -alone, gazing at the pale moon, and indulging in such dreams as -moonlight only yields. Stealing up to his lord, the juggler peered -cunningly in his face, saying in a low voice, "Oh, Coucy! Coucy! I -could show you such a trick for taming a lion;" and at the same time -he bent his thumb back over his shoulder, pointing to where the -monarch stood at a few yards' distance. - -"Silence, fool!" said the knight, in a deep stern voice, adding, a -moment afterwards, "What mean you, Gallon?" - -"Did you not hear him cry, 'Denis Mountjoy! Denis Mountjoy!' when he -joined the fight?" demanded Gallon.--"Coucy, Coucy! you might tame a -lion, an' you would!" - -De Coucy caught Gallon by the arm, and whispered in his ear a stern -menace if he kept not silence. After which he turned at once to the -king, saying aloud, "We had better to horse, fair sir, or it will be -late ere we reach the city." - -"Haw, haw!" shouted Gallon,--"Haw, haw!" and bounding away, he was the -first in the saddle. - -When they were within sight of Paris, the king thanked De Coucy for -the pleasure of his fair company; and, saying that they should -doubtless soon meet at the court, he took leave of the young knight, -as if his road lay in somewhat a different direction, and rode on, his -horse putting forth all his speed to reach the well-known stable. The -young knight followed more slowly; and, proceeding across the bridge, -directed his steps to the palace on the island. - -In the court he found a crowd of inferior ecclesiastics, with robes, -and stoles, and crosses, and banners, and all the pompous display of -Romish magnificence, mingled with the king's serjeants-at-arms, and -many a long train of retainers belonging to several of the great -vassals of the crown, who seemed to be at that moment at the court. -The young knight dismounted in the midst of them, and sent in to crave -an audience of the king, giving his business, as it well deserved, the -character of important. - -A reply was soon returned, purporting that Sir Guy de Coucy was ever -welcome to the king of France, and the knight was instantly marshalled -to the presence-chamber. - -Philip stood at the further extremity of the magnificent Gothic hall, -a part of which still remains in the old palace of the kings of -France. He was habited in a wide tunic of rich purple silk, bound -round his waist by a belt of gold, from which hung his sword of state. -The neck and sleeves were tied with gold, and from his shoulders -descended a mantle of crimson sendal, lined throughout with ermines, -which fell in broad and glossy folds upon the floor. On his head he -wore a jewelled cap of crimson velvet, from under which the glossy -waves of his long fair hair fell down in some disarray upon his -shoulders. In any other man, the haste with which he had changed his -apparel would have appeared; but Philip, in person even, was formed to -be a king; and, in the easy grace of his figure, and the dignified -erectness of his carriage, hurry or negligence of dress was never -seen; or appeared but to display the innate majesty of his demeanour -to greater advantage. - -He stood with one foot rather advanced, and his chest and head thrown -back, while his eagle eye fixed with a keen and somewhat stern regard -upon a mitred prelate--the abbot of Three Fountains Abbey--who seemed -to have been speaking the moment before De Coucy entered, Guerin the -chancellor, still in the simple dress of the knights hospitallers, -stood beside the king; and around appeared a small but brilliant -circle of nobles, amongst whom were to be seen the dukes of Burgundy -and Champagne, the counts of Nevers and Dampierre; and the unhappy -count of Toulouse, afterwards sacrificed to the intolerant spirit of -the Roman Church. - -"How is this?" said Philip, just as the young knight passed into the -hall;--"Will Rome never be satisfied? Do concessions wrung from our -very heart's blood but stimulate new demands? What has Innocent the -Third to do with the wars of Philip of France against his traitorous -and rebellious vassal, John duke of Normandy? What pretext of clerical -authority and the church's rights has the pontiff now to show, why a -monarch should not in his own dominions compel his vassals to -obedience, and punish crime and baseness? By the holy rood! there must -be some new creed we have not heard of, to enjoin implicit obedience, -in all temporal as well as spiritual things, to our moderate, -temperate, holy father, Innocent the Third, and his successors for -ever! We pray thee, my lord abbot, to communicate to us all the tenets -of this blessed doctrine; and to tell us, whether it has been made -manifest by inspiration or revelation." - -"You speak scornfully, my son," said the abbot mildly, "ay, and -somewhat profanely; but you well know the causes that move our holy -father to interfere, when he sees two christened kings wasting their -blood, their treasure, and their time, in vain and impious wars -against each other, while the holy sepulchre is still the prey of -miscreants and infidels, and the land of our blessed Redeemer,--the -land in which so many saints have died, and for which so many heroes -have bled,--still lies bowed down to heathens and blasphemers,--you -well know the causes that move him to interfere, I say, and therefore -need ask no new motive for his christianlike and holy zeal." - -"His christianlike and holy zeal!!" exclaimed the king, holding up his -hands. "Ay, abbot," he continued, his lip curling with a bitter smile, -"I do know the causes, and Christendom shall find I estimate them -justly. For all answer, then, to the mild good father pope his -exhortation to peace, I reply that Philip is king of France; and that, -though I will, in all strictly ecclesiastical affairs, yield reverence -and due submission to the supreme pontiff; yet when he dares--ay, when -he dares, abbot--to use the word command to me, in my just wars, or in -the dispensation of justice unto my vassals, I shall scoff his idle -threats to scorn, and, by God's will, pursue my way, as if there were -neither priest nor prelate on the earth. Now, fair Sir Guy de Coucy! -most welcome to Philip of France!" he continued, abruptly turning away -from the abbot and addressing the young knight. "We were arming even -now to march to deliver you and our fair cousin Arthur Plantagenet. -What cheer do you bring us from him?" - -"I had hoped, my liege," replied De Coucy, with a pained and -melancholy air, "that fame, who speeds fast enough in general to bear -ill news, would have spared me the hard and bitter task of telling you -what I have to communicate. He for whom you inquire is no more! Basely -has he been murdered in the prisons of Rouen by his own uncle, John -king of England!" - -Philip's brow had been cloudy before; but as the young knight spoke, -fresh shadows came quickly over it, as we see storm after storm roll -up over a thundery sky. At the same time, each of the nobles of France -took an involuntary step forward, and with knitted brow, and eager, -horrified eyes, gazed upon De Coucy while he told his news. - -"God of heaven!" exclaimed the monarch rapidly. "What would you say? -Are you very sure, sir knight? Not with his own hand? His nephew too! -His own brother's child! As noble a boy as ever looked up in the face -of heaven! Speak, sir knight! Speak! What was the manner of his death! -Have you heard? But be careful that each word be founded on certain -knowledge, for on your lips hangs the fate of thousands!" - -De Coucy related clearly and distinctly all that had occurred on the -day of Arthur's murder--all that he had seen, all that he had heard; -but, with scrupulous care, he took heed that not one atom of surmise -should mingle with his discourse. He painted strongly, clearly, -minutely, every circumstance; but he left his auditors to draw their -own conclusions. - -The nobles of France looked silently in each other's faces, where each -read the same feelings of horror and indignation that swelled in his -own bosom. At the same time, the king glanced his keen eye round the -circle, with a momentary gaze of inquiry at the countenances of his -barons, as if he sought to gather whether the feelings of wrath and -hatred which the young knight's tale had stirred up in his heart were -common to all around. - -"Now, by the bones of the saints!" cried he, "we will this day--nay -this hour,--send a herald to defy that felon king, and dare him to the -field. Ho! serjeant-at-arms, bid Mountjoy hither!" - -"I have already, my lord," said De Coucy, "presumed, even before -bearing you this news, to defy king John before his court; and, -accusing him of this foul murder, to dare his barons--all, or any who -should deny the fact--to meet me in arms, upon the quarrel." - -"Ha!" cried Philip eagerly. "What said his nobles?--Did they believe -your charge? Did they take up your gage, sir knight?" - -"It seems, sire," replied De Coucy, "that the tidings of the prince's -murder were already common amongst the English barons; and, from what -I could gather, some of their body had already charged John of Anjou -with it before I came. As to my gauntlet, several of the knights -stepped forward to raise it--for, to do the lords of England justice, -they are never backward to draw the sword, right or wrong--but Lord -Pembroke interposed; and, taking up the gage, said that he would hold -it in all honour, till the king should have cleared himself, to their -satisfaction, of the accusation which I brought against him; hinting -some doubt, however, that he could do so. Nevertheless, he promised -either to meet me in arms in fair field of combat, or to return me my -gage, acknowledging the king's quarrel to be bad." - -"'Tis evident enough!" cried the king. "The barons of England--who are -ever willing to support their monarch in any just cause," he added, -with a peculiar emphasis, not exactly reproachful, but certainly -intended to convey to the ears on which it fell a warning of the -monarch's expectations,--"the barons of England are already aware of -this hateful deed, or not one of them would for a moment hesitate to -draw the sword in defence of his king. Poor Arthur!" he continued, -casting his eyes on the ground, and letting his mind wander over the -past,--"poor Arthur! thou wert as hopeful a youth as ever a mother was -blessed withal--as fair, as engaging a boy--and now thine unhappy -mother is sonless, as well widowed. I had hoped to have seated thee on -the throne of thine ancestors, and to have made thy mother's heart -glad in the sight of thy renewed prosperity. But thou art gone, poor -child! and left few so fair and noble behind. In faith, lords! I could -weep that boy's loss," continued the king, dashing a drop from his -proud eye. "His youth promised so splendidly, that his manhood must -have proved great.--Lord Abbot," he added gravely, turning to the -abbot of Three Fountains, "you have marked what has passed this -day--you have heard what I have heard,--and, if there needs any -farther answer to him that sent you to preach me from my purpose of -punishing a rebellious vassal, tell him that John of Anjou has added -murder to treachery; and that Philip of France will never sheathe the -sword till he has fully avenged the death of Arthur Plantagenet!" - -"I have indeed heard what has passed, sire, with horror and dismay," -replied the abbot; "but still, without at all seeking to impugn the -faith or truth of this good knight, whose deeds in defence of the holy -sepulchre have been heard of by all men, and warrant his Christian -truth--yet still he saw not the murder committed." - -Philip knit his brow and gnawed his lip impatiently, glancing his eye -round the circle with a scornful and meaning smile; and muttering to -himself, "Roman craft--Roman craft!" - -Whether the abbot heard it or not, he took instantly a higher tone. "I -irritate you, sir king!" said he, "by speaking truth; but still you -must thus far hear me. The pope--the holy head of the common Christian -church, finding himself called upon to exert all the powers entrusted -to him for the deliverance of the holy city of Jerusalem, has resolved -that he will compel all Christian kings to cease their private -quarrels, and lay by their vindictive animosities, till the great -object of giving deliverance to Christ's sepulchre be accomplished." - -"Compel!" cried Philip, the living lightning flashing from his eyes. -"By heaven! priest, the king he can compel to sheathe the sword of -righteous vengeance out against a murderer is formed of different -metal from Philip of France. So tell the pontiff! Let him cast again -the interdict upon the land if he will. The next time I pray him to -raise it, shall be at the gates of Rome with my lance in my hand, and -my shield upon my breast. My supplication shall be the voice of -trumpets, and my kneeling the trampling of my war-horse in the courts -of the capitol.--What say ye, barons! Have I spoken well?" - -"Well! Well! Well!" echoed the peers around, enraged beyond moderation -at the prelate's daring protection of a murderer; and at the same -moment the Duke of Burgundy laid the finger of his right hand upon the -pommel of his sword, with a meaning glance towards the king. - -"Ay, Burgundy, my noble friend! thou art right," said Philip; "with -our swords we will show our freedom.--Look not scared, sir abbot, but -know, that we are not such children as to be deceived with tales of -holy wars, when the question is, whether a murderer shall be punished. -Away with such pretences! This war against the assassin of my noble -boy, Arthur of Brittany, is _my_ holy war, and never was one more just -and righteous.--Ha, Mountjoy!" he added, as the king of arms entered, -"we have a task for thee, fitted for so noble a knight and so learned -a herald. John of Anjou has murdered Arthur Plantagenet, his nephew, -in prison. Here stands in witness thereof. Sir Guy de Coucy--" - -"Good knight and noble! if ever one lived," said the herald, bowing -his head to De Coucy. - -"Go then to the false traitor John," continued the king, "defy him in -our name! tell him that we will have blood for blood; and that the -death of all the thousands which shall fall in his unrighteous quarrel -we cast upon his head. Tell him, that we will never sheathe the sword, -so long as he possesses one foot of ground in France; and that when we -have even driven him across his bulwark of the sea, we will overleap -that too, and the avenging blade shall plague him at his very -hearth.--Yet hold!" cried Philip, pausing in the midst of the passion -into which he had worked himself, and reining in his wrath, to guide -it in the course of his greater purposes; as a skilful charioteer -bends the angry and impetuous fire of his horses, to whirl him on with -more energetic celerity to the goal within his view. "Yet -hold!--------" and Philip carried his hand to his brow, catching, as -by inspiration, the outline of that bright stroke of policy which, -more than any other act of his whole reign, secured to the monarchs of -France the absolute supremacy of their rule--the judgment of John of -Anjou, the greatest feudatory of the crown, by the united peers of -France. - -If he made the war against John a personal one between himself and the -king of England, he might be supported by his barons, and come off -victorious in the struggle, it was true; but if he summoned John, as -Duke of Normandy, to receive judgment from his sovereign court in a -case of felony, it established his jurisdiction over his higher -vassals, on a precedent such as none would ever dare in after years to -resist. It did more; for, if John were condemned by his peers, of -which Philip entertained not a moment's doubt, the barons of France -would be bound to support their own award; and the tie between them -and him would become, not the unstable one of voluntary service, -rendered and refused as caprice might dictate, but a strictly feudal -duty with which all would be interested to comply. - -Philip saw, at a glance, the immense increase of stability which he -might give to his power by this great exercise of his rights; and, -clear-sighted himself, he hardly doubted that his barons would see it -also, and perhaps oppose his will. Certain, however, that by the -feudal system his right to summon John, and judge him in his court, -was clear and undeniable, he resolved to carry it through, at all -events; but determined, first, to propose it to his nobles as a -concession that he himself made to their privileges. - -What is long and tedious, as the slow eye or slower pen travels over -the paper, is but the work of a moment to the mind; and Philip had, in -the pause of one brief instant, caught every consideration that -affected the idea before him, and determined upon his line of conduct. - -"Hold!" said he to the herald--"hold! My lords," he continued, turning -to the nobles, by whom he was surrounded, "in my first wrath against -this base murderer, I had forgot that, though I have the indisputable -right of warring upon him as a monarch, yet I cannot justly punish him -as a felon, strictly speaking, without your judgment previously -pronounced upon him. I would not willingly trespass upon the -privileges of any of my noble vassals; and therefore, lords--you Dukes -of Burgundy and Champagne, and whatever other peers of France are -present, I resign the judgment of this John of Anjou into your hands. -I will summon him to appear before my court of peers, at the end of -twenty days, to answer the charges brought against him. The peers of -France shall judge him according to their honour and his demerits; and -I will stand by in arms, to see that judgment executed." The peers of -France could hardly have refused to assist at the trial to which -Philip called them, even had they been so willed; but, far behind the -monarch in intellect, and indignant at the baseness of John of Anjou, -they now eagerly expressed their approval of the king's determination; -and again plighted themselves to support him in his war against the -English sovereign, whether that war was maintained as a consequence of -the judgment they should give, or as a continuation of that which had -already commenced. - -The herald, then, was instantly despatched to Rouen, for the purpose -of displaying the articles of accusation against John at the court of -Normandy, and of summoning him to appear on the twentieth day at -Paris, to answer the charges to be there substantiated. At the same -time, the legate of the holy see, very well convinced that, in the -present case, the thunders of the church would fall harmless at the -feet of Philip, though launched with ever so angry a hand, took leave -of the monarch with a discontented air; and as he left the hall, the -monarch's lip curled, and his eye lightened, with a foretaste of that -triumph which he anticipated over the proud priest who had so darkly -troubled the current of his domestic happiness. - -"Beau Sire De Coucy," said the king, turning to the young knight with -a bland smile, as he recalled his thoughts from the contemplation of -the future, "notwithstanding the sad news you have brought us, you are -most welcome to the court of France. Nor will we fail to repay your -sufferings, as far as our poor means will go. In the mean while, we -beg of you to make our palace your home till such time as, with -sounding trumpets and lances in rest, we shall march to punish the -assassin of Arthur Plantagenet. Then shall you lead, to aid in the -revenge I know you thirst to take, all the fair host raised on the -lands of the Count de Tankerville, full a thousand archers and two -hundred knights. At supper, noble lords," continued the king, "I trust -that all here will grace my board with their presence. Ere then, I -have a bitter task to perform--to break to a fond mother the death of -her noble boy, and to soothe the sorrows of a helpless widow." - - - - -CHAPTER IX. - - -One unchanging cloud of perpetual sorrow lowered over the days of the -unhappy Agnes de Meranie. The hope that the council which had been -called to decide upon the king's divorce might pronounce a judgment -favourable to her wishes, dwindled gradually away, till its -flickering, uncertain light was almost more painful than the darkness -of despair. The long delays of the church of Rome, the tedious -minutiae of all its ceremonious forms, the cavillings upon words, the -endless technicalities, however sweet and enduring was her -disposition, wore her mind and her frame, and she faded away like a -rose at the end of summer, dropping leaf by leaf towards decay. - -She delighted no longer in things wherein she had most joyed. The -opening flowers of the spring, the chanting of the wild melodious -birds, the reviving glow of all nature's face after the passing of the -long, chill winter, brought her no happiness. Her heart had lost its -young expansion. Her eye§ were covered with a dim, shadowy veil, that -gave its own dull, sombre hue to all that she beheld. Her ears were -closed against every sound that spoke of hope, or pleasure, or -enjoyment. Her life was one long, sad dream, overjoys passed away, and -happiness never to return. - -For many and many an hour, she would wander about through the woods; -but when she saw the young green leaves opening out from the careful -covering with which nature had defended their infancy, she would -recall the time when, with her beloved husband, she had watched the -sweet progress of the spring, and would weep to find him no longer by -her side, and to see in the long, cold future an unchanging prospect -of the same dull vacancy. Often, too, she would stray to the top of -one of the high hills near the castle, and, gazing over the -wide-extended view--the sea of woods waving their tender green heads -below her--the mingling hills, and valleys, and plains beyond--the -windings of the broad river, with the rich, rich vale through which it -flows--and the distant gleams of towers and spires scattered over the -fair face of the bright land of France, she would sigh as she looked -upon the proud kingdom of her Philip, and would quickly shrink back -from the wide extension of the scene to the small limit of her heart's -feelings and her individual regrets. - -She shrunk, too, from society. Her women followed, but followed at a -distance; for they saw that their presence importuned her; and it was -only when any message arrived from the king, or any news was brought -concerning the progress of his arms, that they broke in upon her -reveries. Then, indeed, Agnes listened as if her whole soul was in the -tale; and she made the narrators repeat over and over again every -small particular. She heard that one castle had fallen--that another -district had submitted--that this baron had come over to the crown of -France--or that city had laid its keys at the feet of Philip, dwelling -on each minute circumstance, both of warfare and of policy, with as -deep and curious an interest as if her life and hope had depended on -the issue of each particular movement. - -It was remarked, too, that the oftener the name of Philip was repeated -in the detail, the more interest she appeared to take therein, and the -more minute was her questioning; and if any eminent success had -attended his arms, it would communicate a gleam of gladness to her -eyes, that hardly left them during the whole day. - -At other times she spoke but little, for it seemed to fatigue her; -and, though from the blush of her cheek, which every evening seemed to -come back brighter and brighter, and from a degree of glistening -splendour in her eye, which grew more brilliant than it had ever been -even in her happier days, her women augured returning health, yet her -strength visibly failed; and that lovely hand, whose small but rounded -symmetry had been a theme for half the poets of France, grew pale and -thin, so that the one loved ring nearly dropped from the finger round -which it hung. - -It was not from a love of new things or new faces, for no one was more -constant in all her affections than Agnes de Meranie; but though she -avoided even the society of her own immediate followers, several of -whom had attended upon her in her own land, yet Isadore of the Mount, -from the time she had taken refuge in the castle where she was still -detained by royal order, was often welcomed by the queen with a smile -that the others could not win. - -Perhaps the secret was, that Isadore never tried to console her--that -she seemed to feel that the name of comfort under such circumstances -was but a mockery; and though she strove, gently and sweetly, to -divert the mind of the unhappy princess from the immediate subject of -her grief, she did it by soft degrees, and never sought for a gaiety -that she did not feel herself, and which she saw was sadly discordant -with all the feelings of the queen when affected by others in the hope -of pleasing her. - -One morning, towards the end of March, on entering the apartments of -the queen, Isadore found her with her head bent over her hand, and her -eyes fixed upon the small circle of gold that had bound her to Philip -Augustus, while drop after drop swelled through the long lashes of her -eyelids, and fell upon the ring itself. Seeing that she wept, Isadore -was about to retire; for there is a sacredness in grief such as hers, -that a feeling heart would never violate. - -The queen, however, beckoned her forward, and looking up, wiped the -tears away. "One must be at a sad pitch of fortune, Isadore," said -she, with a painful smile at her own melancholy conceit,--"one must be -at a sad pitch of fortune, when even inanimate things play the traitor -and leave us in our distress. This little magic symbol," she -continued, laying one finger of the other hand upon the ring,--"this -fairy token, that in general is destined to render two hearts happy or -miserable, according to the virtue of the giver and the receiver--it -has fallen from my finger this morning, though it has been my comfort -through many a sorrow. Is not that ominous, Isadore?" - -"Of nothing evil, I hope, lady," replied Isadore. "Trust me, 'tis but -to show that it will be put on again under happier auspices." - -"'Twill be in heaven, then," replied Agnes, fixing her eyes on the -thin fair hand which lay on the table before her. "'Twill be in -heaven, then! Do you too deceive yourself, lady?--Isadore, Isadore! -the canker-worm of grief has not only eaten the leaves of the blossom, -it has blasted it to the heart. I would not die if I could avoid my -fate, for it will give Philip pain; but for me, lady,--for me, the -grave is the only place of peace. Care must have made some progress -ere that ring, round which the flesh once rose up, as if to secure it -for ever as its own, would slip with its own weight to the ground." - -Isadore bent her head, and was silent; for she saw, that to speak of -hope at that moment would be worse than vain. - -"I had been trying," said the queen, clinging to the subject with a -sort of painful fondness,--"I had been trying to write something to -Constance of Brittany, that might console her for the loss of her poor -boy Arthur. But I blotted many a page in vain, and found how hard it -is to speak one word of comfort to real grief. I know not whether it -was that my mind still selfishly turned to my own sorrows, and took -from me the power of consoling those of others, or whether there is -really no such thing as consolation upon earth; but, still as I wrote, -I found each line more calculated to sadden than to cheer. At last I -abandoned the task, and letting my hand which had held the paper drop -beside me, this faithless pledge of as true a love as ever bound two -hearts, dropped from my finger and rolled away from me. Oh! Isadore, -'twas surely an evil omen! But it was not that which made me weep. As -I put it on again, I thought of the day that it had first shone upon -my hand, and all the images of lost happiness rose up around me like -the spectres of dead friends, calling me too to join the past; and oh! -how the bright and golden forms of those sunny days contrasted with -the cold, hard sorrow of each hour at present. Oh! Isadore, 'tis not -the present, I believe, that ever makes our misery; 'tis its contrast -with the past--'tis the loss of some hope, or the crushing of some -joy--the disappointment of expectation, or the regrets of memory. The -present is nothing--nothing--nothing, but in its relation to the -future or the past." - -"How painful, then, must be that contrast to the poor duchess of -Brittany," said Isadore in reply, taking advantage of the mention that -the queen had made of Constance, to lead her mind away from the -contemplation of her own griefs. "How bitter must be her tears for -that gallant young Prince Arthur, when all France is weeping for him! -Not a castle throughout the land but rings, they say, with the tale of -his murder. Not a bosom but beats with indignation against his -assassin. I have just heard, that Sir Guy de Coucy, who was his -fellow-prisoner, defied John Lackland in the midst of his barons, and -cast down his gauntlet at the foot of the very throne. The messenger," -she added, casting down her eyes as the queen raised hers, for there -came a certain tell-tale glow into her cheek as she spoke of De Coucy, -that she did not care to be remarked,--"the messenger you sent to the -canon of St. Berthe's has but now returned, bringing news from Paris -concerning the court of peers held upon the murderer, and affirming -that he has refused to appear before the barons of France--at least, -so says my girl Eleanor." - -The news of Arthur's death, and various particulars concerning it, had -spread in vague rumours to every castle in France. Many and various -were the shapes which the tale had assumed, but of course it had -reached Agnes de Meranie and her suite in somewhat of a more authentic -form. All that concerned Philip in any way was of course a matter of -deep interest to her, Isadore's plan for withdrawing her mind for the -moment from herself had therefore its full effect, and she instantly -directed the messenger to be brought to her, for the purpose of -learning from him all that had occurred at the court of peers, to -which assembly, however, we shall conduct our reader in his own -person. - - - - -CHAPTER X. - - -To those who have not studied the spirit of the feudal system, it -would seem an extraordinary and almost inconceivable anomaly, that one -sovereign prince should have the power of summoning to his court, and -trying as a felon, another, of dominions scarcely less extensive than -his own. But the positions of vassal and lord were not so incoherent -or ill-defined as may be imagined. Each possessor of a feof, at the -period of his investiture, took upon himself certain obligations -towards the sovereign under whom he held, from which nothing could -enfranchise him, as far as that feof was concerned; and upon his -refusing, or neglecting to comply with those obligations, the -territory enfeofed or granted returned in right to what was called the -capital lord, or him, in short, who granted it. - -To secure, however, that even justice should be done between the -vassal and the lord--each equally an interested party--it became -necessary that some third person, or body of persons, should possess -the power of deciding on all questions between the other two. Thus it -became a fundamental principle of the feudal system, that no vassal -could be judged but by his peers,--that is to say, by persons holding -in the same relative position as himself, from the same superior. For -the purpose of rendering these judgments, each great baron held, from -time to time, his court, composed of vassals holding directly from -himself; and, in like manner, the king's court of peers was competent -to try all causes affecting the feudatories who held immediately from -the crown. - -John therefore was summoned to appear before the court of Philip -Augustus, not as King of England, which was an independent -sovereignty, but as Duke of Normandy, and Lord of Anjou, Poitou, and -Guyenne, all feofs of the crown of France. No one, therefore, doubted -the competence of the court, and John himself dared not deny its -authority. - -It was a splendid sight, the palace of the Louvre on the morning -appointed for the trial. Each of the great barons of France, anxious -that none of his peers should outvie him in the splendour of his -train, had called together all his most wealthy retainers, and -presented himself at the court of the king, followed by a host of -knights and nobles, clothed in the graceful flowing robes worn in that -day, shining with gold and jewels, and flaunting with all the gay -colours that the art of dyeing could then produce. Silks and velvets, -and cloths of gold and silver, contended in gorgeous rivalry, in the -courts and antechambers of the palace. Flags and pennons, banners and -banderols, fluttered on the breeze; while all the most beautiful -horses that could be procured, were led in the various trains, by the -pages and squire, unmounted; as if their graceful forms were too noble -to bear even the burden of a prince. - -In the great hall itself the scene was more solemn, but scarcely less -magnificent. Around, in the midst of all the gorgeous decorations of a -royal court on its day of solemn ceremony, sat all the highest and -noblest of France, clothed in those splendid robes of ermine, which, -independent of any associations of their value, from the very snowy -whiteness, and the massy folds into which that peculiar fur falls, -gives an idea of majesty and grandeur that no other dress can convey. -Each bore upon his coroneted[27] brow the lines of stern and -impressive gravity; for all deeply felt how solemn was the occasion on -which they had met, how terrible was the cause of their assembly, and -how mighty would be the consequences of their decision. The feeling -was near akin to awe; and many of the younger peers scarcely seemed to -breathe, lest they should disturb the silence. - - --------------------- - -[Footnote 27: Seldon has said that the custom of bearing coronets by -peers is of late days. In this assertion, however, he is apparently -mistaken, the proofs of which may be seen at large in Ducange, -Dissért, xxiv. R. Hoved. 792. Hist. des Compte de Poitou, &c. The -matter is of little consequence, except so far as the representation -of the manners and customs of the times is affected by it.] - --------------------- - - -In the centre, surrounded by all the insignia of royalty, upon a -throne raised several steps above the hall, and covered by a dais of -crimson and gold, sat Philip Augustus--a monarch indeed, in mind, in -person, and in look. There was a simple bandlet of gold around his -brows[28], raised with _fleurs de lis_, and jewelled with fine uncut -stones; but the little distinction which existed between it and the -coronets of his peers would have hardly marked the sovereign. Though -personal appearance, however, is indeed no sign of dignity, either of -mind or station, yet Philip Augustus was not to be mistaken. There was -royalty in his eye and his carriage. The custom of command shone out -in every line; and though there were many noble and princely persons -present, there was none like him. - --------------------- - -[Footnote 28: The closed crown was not introduced until the reign of -Louis XII. or Francis I.] - --------------------- - - -On the king's left hand stood Mountjoy, king-at-arms, holding a -scroll, containing the appeal of Constance, Duchess of Brittany, to -the peers of France, for the punishment of John, called unjustly--it -went on to state--King of England, for the murder of Arthur -Plantagenet, his nephew and born sovereign, her son. - -On the right, stood De Coucy, neither armed nor clothed in his robes -as peer, though, however small his territories, their being free and -held under no one, gave him such a right; but being there as the chief -accuser of John, he sat not of course amongst those called to judge -him. - -Several of the peers' seats were vacant; and, before proceeding to the -immediate business on which the court had met, various messengers were -admitted, to offer the excuses of the several barons, who, either from -want of power or inclination, were not present in person. The apology -of most was received as sufficient; but, at the names of several, the -king's brow darkened, and he turned a meaning look to his chancellor, -Guerin, who stood at a little distance. - -When this part of the ceremony was concluded, Philip made a sign to -the king of arms, who, having waved his hand to still a slight murmur -that had been caused by the admission of the messengers, proceeded to -read the petition of Constance of Brittany; and then, followed by a -train of heralds and marshals, advanced to the great doors of the -hall, which were thrown open at his approach; and, in a loud voice, -summoned John, Duke of Normandy, to appear before the peers of France, -and answer to the charge of Constance Duchess of Brittany. - -Three times he repeated the call, as a matter of ceremony; and, -between each reiteration, the trumpets sounded, and then gave a pause -for reply. - -At length, after a brief conversation with some persons without, the -heralds returned, introducing two persons as deputies for John, who, -as every one there already knew, was not, and would not be present. -The one was a bishop, habited in his pontifical robes, and the other -the well-known Hubert de Burgh. - -"Sir deputies, you are welcome," said the king, as the two Normans -advanced to the end of the table in the centre of the hall. "Give us -the cause why John of Anjou does not present himself before his peers, -to answer the charges against him? Say, is he sick to the death? Or, -does he dare deny the competence of my court?" - -"He is neither sick, sire," replied the bishop, "nor does he, as Duke -of Normandy, at all impugn the authority of the peers of France to -judge upon all questions within the limits of this kingdom." Philip's -brow relaxed. "But," continued the bishop, "before trusting himself in -a city, and a land, where he has many and bitter enemies, he demands -that the King of France shall guarantee his safety." - -"Willingly," replied Philip; "let him come! I will warrant him from -harm or from injustice." - -"But will you equally stake your royal word," demanded the bishop, -fixing his eyes keenly on the king, as if he feared some deceit--"will -you stake your royal word that he shall return safely to his own -land?" - -"Safely shall he return," replied the king, with a clear, marked, and -distinct voice, "if the judgment of his peers permit him so to do." - -"But if the peers condemn him," asked the bishop, "will you give him a -safe conduct?" - -"No! by the Lord of heaven and earth!" thundered the king. "No! If his -peers condemn him, he shall suffer the punishment his peers award, -should they doom him to the block, the cord, or the wheel! Their -sentence shall be executed to the letter." - -"You well know then, sire king," replied the bishop calmly, "that -John, King of England, cannot submit himself to your court. The realm -of England cannot be put at the disposition of the barons of France, -by its king submitting to their judgment; neither would our English -barons suffer it." - -"What is that to me?" cried Philip. "Because my vassal, the Duke of -Normandy, increases his domains, do I, as his sovereign, lose my -rights? By heaven's host, no! Go, heralds, to the courts, and the -bridges, and the highways, and summon John of Anjou to present himself -before his peers! Sir bishop, you have done your embassy; and, if you -stay but half an hour, you shall hear the judgment of our court, on -the cause of which we have met to take cognizance." - -The bishop, however, and his companion, took their leave and departed; -the bishop bowing low, in reverence to the court; and the stout Hubert -de Burgh turning away after a calm careless glance round the peers of -France, as if he had just concluded a piece of needless ceremony, of -which he was heartily tired. - -For a moment or two after the deputies were gone, the barons continued -to converse together in a whisper, while Philip sat without speaking, -glancing his quick keen eye from one countenance to another, as if he -would gather beforehand the terms of the judgment they were afterwards -to pronounce. Gradually, complete silence began again to spread itself -over the court; one baron after another dropping the conversation that -he held with his neighbour, till all was still. There is always -something awful in very profound silence; but when the silence of -expectation on any great occasion has been prolonged for any extent of -time, it becomes a sort of painful charm, which requires no small -resolution to break. - -Thus the peers of France, when once the stillness had completely -established itself, sat without word or motion, waiting the return of -the heralds, awed by the very quiet; though many of the more timid and -undecided would fain have asked counsel of those next whom they sat, -had they dared to break the spell that seemed to hang over the -assembly. - -Many a vague doubt and many a fear attached itself to the duty they -were called upon to perform; for, even in that day, it was no small -responsibility to set a world in arms, and renew that deluge of -bloodshed that had so lately ceased. From time to time, under the -influence of these feelings, the several peers gazed in the -countenances of their fellows, to see if they were shaken by the same -hesitations as themselves. But it is ever the bold that lead; and here -and there, scattered through the assembly, might be seen a face that -turned to no one for advice or support; but, with the eyes fixed on -the ground, the brow bent, and the lips closed, seemed to offer a -picture of stern determined resolution. It was these men who decided -the deliberations of the day. For their opinions all waited, and all -voices followed their lead. - -At length the doors of the hall were again thrown open; and Mountjoy -king-at-arms, presented himself, informing the court that he had -summoned John of Anjou, Duke of Normandy, in the courts, on the -bridges, and the highways; and that he did not appear. - -There was now a deep pause, and Philip turned his eyes to the Duke of -Burgundy. He was a man of a dull, saturnine aspect, stout even to -corpulency, with shaggy eyebrows overhanging his dark eyes, but with a -high, finely formed nose, and small, well-shaped mouth, so that his -countenance was stern without being morose, and striking without being -handsome. - -The great baron rose from his seat, while there was a breathless -silence all around; and laying his hand upon his heart, he said in a -clear stern tone, "I pronounce John of Anjou guilty of murder and -disloyalty; I hold him a cruel and perverse traitor; and I declare -that for these crimes, his feofs of Normandy, Anjou, Poitou, Maine, -and Guyenne, are justly forfeited to his sovereign lord, and he -himself worthy of death, upon my honour!" - -A murmur of approbation succeeded, for a great proportion of the -barons had already determined upon a similar judgment; and those who -had remained undecided, were glad of some one with whose opinion to -establish their own. One after another now rose; and, notwithstanding -all the hesitation which many had felt the moment before, there was -not one dissenting voice from the condemnation pronounced by the Duke -of Burgundy. Had there been any strong mind to oppose, half the peers -would have followed him like a flock of sheep, but there was none; and -they now all eagerly, and almost turbulently, pronounced judgment -against John of Anjou, sentencing him unanimously to forfeiture of all -his feofs, and every pain inflicted on high felony. - -The silence was succeeded by a babble of tongues perfectly -extraordinary; but the moment after, the voice of the king was heard -above the rest, and all was again hushed. - -What would in the present day smack of stage effect, was in perfect -harmony with the manners, habits, and feelings of those times, when a -spirit unknown to us--a moving principle whose force is now exhausted, -or only felt even feebly in the breasts of a few--the spirit of -chivalry, impelled men to every thing that was singular and striking. - -Philip rose majestically from his throne, drew his sword from the -scabbard, and, advancing to the table, laid the weapon upon it naked. -Then, gazing round the peers, he exclaimed, "To arms! to arms! nobles -of France, your judgment is pronounced! 'tis time to enforce it with -the sword!--to arms! to arms I lose no moments in vain words. Call -together your vassals. Philip of France marches to execute your -sentence against John of Anjou; and he calls on his barons to support -their award! The day of meeting is the tenth from this, the place of -_monstre_ beneath the walls of château Galliard! let cowards leave me, -and brave men follow me! and I will punish the traitor before a year -be out." - -So saying, he waved his hand to his peers; and, followed by the -heralds and men-at-arms, left the hall of assembly. - -The younger and less clear-sighted of the peers eagerly applauded -Philip's brief appeal! but there was, in fact, a tone of triumph in -it, which struck the more deep-thinking barons, and perhaps made them -fear that they had that day consecrated a power, which might sooner or -later be used against themselves. Doubt kept them silent, however; and -they separated at once, to prepare for the campaign before them. - -Philip Augustus lost no time. Scarcely had the herald carried to John -of England the news of his condemnation by the court of peers, than -every part of his dominions in France were invaded at once with an -overpowering force. - -Disgusted with his baseness, his treachery, and his levity, the barons -of England afforded him but little aid, and the nobles of his French -dominions, in most instances, yielded willingly to the king of France, -who offered them friendship and protection on which they could rely. -The greater towns, indeed, of Maine and Normandy still held for John, -and made some show of resistance: but what by superior force and skill -in war, and what by politic concessions, before two months were over -the major part had been led to submit to Philip. - -The war was of course begun, as was ever the case in those days, by -hordes of plunderers of every description, who, on the very first call -to arms, inundated Normandy, pillaging, ravaging, and destroying, -sparing neither sex nor age, and, by their excesses, driving the -people to submit willingly to the authority of the French monarch, who -alone could afford them any sufficient protection. To the towns, -Philip held out the promise of being rendered free communes under -royal charters; to the barons he offered security in all their rights -and privileges; and to the people, peace and safety. With these -offers, and the sight of their accomplishment wherever they were -accepted, on the one hand, and an immense and conquering army on the -other, it is not at all wonderful that triumph should follow every -where the royal standard of France. - -John fled timidly into Guyenne, while the Earl of Salisbury, with -small and inefficient forces, endeavoured in some degree to check the -progress of the French monarch. Battles there were none, for the -inequality of the two armies totally prevented William Longsword from -hazarding any thing like a general engagement; but sieges and -skirmishes succeeded each other rapidly; and De Coucy had now the -opportunity of drinking deep the cup of glory for which he had so long -thirsted. - -At the head of the retainers of the Count de Tankerville, which formed -as splendid a leading as any in the army, he could display those high -military talents, which had always hitherto been confined to a -narrower sphere. He did not neglect the occasion of doing so, and in -castle and in bower, throughout all the land of France, wherever great -deeds were spoken of, there was repeated the name of Sir Guy de Coucy. - -In the mean while, still confined to the castle of Rolleboise, Isadore -of the Mount heard, from day to day, of her lover's feats of arms; -and, though she often trembled for his safety, with those timid fears -from which a woman's heart, even in the days of chivalry, was never -wholly free; yet, knowing the impulse that carried him forward, and -proud of the affection that she had inspired and that she returned, -whenever the name of the young knight was mentioned, her eye sparkled -and her cheek glowed with love, and hope, and expectation. - -Her father, she thought, after the base attempt made to carry her off -by William de la Roche Guyon--of the particulars of which she was now -fully aware--would never press her to wed so base a traitor; and who -stood so fair to win the place that he had lost as Guy de Coucy? Thus -whispered hope. Fear, however, had another discourse; and perhaps she -listened as often to the tale of the one, as the other. - -During this time, the Count d'Auvergne had recovered from the wound he -had received; and, under the care of his own attendants, who, by the -clue afforded by De Coucy, had regained him, soon acquired new -strength--at least, of body. It was remarked, however, that, though -while suffering excessive exhaustion from loss of blood, his mind had -been far more clear and collected; yet, in proportion as he recovered -his corporeal vigour, his intellectual faculties again abandoned him. -His followers, who, notwithstanding the cold sternness of his manners, -loved him with true feudal attachment, kept a continual watch upon -him; but it was in vain they did so. With a degree of cunning, often -joined to insanity, he contrived to deceive all eyes; and once more -made his escape, leaving not a trace by which he could be followed. - -Such was the situation of all the personages concerned in this -history, towards the end of the month of June; when suddenly the Earl -of Salisbury, with the handful of men who had accompanied him, ceasing -to hover round the king's army, harassing it with continued -skirmishes, as had been his custom, disappeared entirely, leaving all -Normandy open and undefended, A thousand vague reports were instantly -circulated through the camp; but the only correct one was, that which -was brought to the king's tent, as he sat writing after the march of -the morning. - -"Well," cried Philip, as one of his most active scouts was ushered -into his presence, "what news of the Earl of Salisbury? No more _I -believes!_ Give me some certainty." - -"My lord," replied the man, "I am now sure; for I saw the rear-guard -of his army in full march towards Boulogne. Mocking the jargon of the -Normans, I spoke with some of the men, when I found that the whole -host is boon for Flanders." - -"Ha! so soon!" cried the king. "I knew not that they were so far -prepared." - -But, to explain the king's words, we must turn to the events which had -been going on without the immediate limits of France, and which, while -he was striding from victory to victory within his own dominions, -threatened to overwhelm him by the combination of his external -enemies, with all his discontented vassals. - - - - -CHAPTER XI. - - -During the wars in Normandy and Maine, John had been absent, but not -inactive; and, what by his single power he could not bring about, he -resolved to accomplish by coalition. Many causes of enmity towards -Philip Augustus existed amongst all the monarchs by whose territories -his kingdom was surrounded, and not less amongst his own immediate -vassals; and John at once saw, that his only hope of ever regaining -the feofs that Philip had wrested from him, was in joining his own -power with those of every enemy of the French monarch, and hurling -him, by their united efforts, from the throne. - -The English sovereign found no opposition to these schemes of policy. -Otho, emperor of Germany, had met in Philip an unceasing and -irreconcileable adversary. Philip it was who had principally opposed -his election; Philip it was who had raised candidate after candidate -against him. Philip it was who had taken advantage of his late -quarrels with the irritable pope; and had, even after his coronation, -thrown in a rival, and placed the greater part of Upper Germany in the -hands of Frederic of Sicily. Otho, therefore, thirsted for vengeance; -and the proposal of a general confederacy against the French monarch -but fulfilled his hopes and anticipated his efforts. - -Ferrand, count of Flanders, was not less easily won to join the -coalition. One of the greatest vassals of the crown of France, with -territories more extensive than the royal domain itself, he had ever -been jealous of Philip's increasing power, and had, by many a breach -of his feudal duties, endeavoured to loosen the tie that bound him to -his sovereign. By the example of John, however, he now began to see -that such breach of duty would not pass unpunished. Views of ambition, -too, joined themselves to hatred and fear. He saw prospects of -independence, of sovereignty, and immense territorial aggrandisement, -as the infallible consequence of Philip's overthrow; and he therefore -was one of the first to put his name to the confederation. So great an -alliance once established, thousands of minor princes joined -themselves to it, eager to share the spoil. The dukes of Brabant and -Lemburgh, the counts of Holland, Namur, and Boulogne, whether vassals -of the king of France or not, all found some motive to unite against -him, and some excuse to their own conscience, for throwing off the -homage they had vowed. - -In the mean time, the disaffection of Philip's vassals in the heart of -his kingdom was great and increasing. The immense strides which the -monarchical power had taken under his guidance; the very vast increase -of authority they had themselves cast into his hands by their judgment -against John: the extensive increase of absolute domain, which his -prompt and successful execution of that judgment had given him, made -each baron tremble for his own power; while, at the same time, -Philip's protection of the communes, his interference in matters of -justice and general right, and the appeal he granted in his court as -supreme lord against the decisions of his great vassals, made each -also tremble for the stability of the feudal system itself. - -John took care to encourage discontent and apprehension. A thousand -rumours were spread concerning Philip's views and intentions. Some -declared that his ambitious mind would never be at peace till he had -re-established the empire of Charlemagne--till he had broken the power -of the barons, and wrested from their hands the administration of -justice in their territories. Some said that his plans were already -formed for throwing down their strongholds, and possessing himself of -their lands; and there was not, in fact, a report, however -extravagant, that could irritate the fears and jealousies of the -nobles of France against their king, that was not cunningly devised, -and industriously circulated. - -Some believed, and some pretended to believe; and nothing was heard -of, from all parts of the kingdom, but preparations for revolt. - -In the mean while, Philip was, as we have already shown, steadily -pursuing his operations against John, the more anxious for success, -because he knew that one defeat would at once call the storm upon his -head. He suffered himself not to be turned from the business he had in -hand by threatenings of any kind, having secured what he considered -sufficient support amongst his barons to repel his external enemies -and punish internal rebellion. He saw too, with that keen sagacity -which was one of his peculiar qualities, that passions were beginning -to mingle themselves in the confederacy of his enemies, which would in -time weaken their efforts, if not disunite them entirely. These -passions were not those doubts and jealousies of each other, which so -often overthrow the noblest alliances; but rather that wild and eager -grasping after the vast and important changes which can only be -brought about by the operation of many slow and concentring causes. - -The designs of the confederates spread as they found their powers -increase. Their first object had been but to make war upon Philip -Augustus. Perhaps even the original proposal extended but to curb his -authority, and reduce him to the same position with his predecessors. -Gradually, however, they determined to cast him and his race from the -throne; and, calculating upon the certainty of success, they proceeded -by treaty to divide his dominions amongst them. Otho was assigned his -part, John his, and Ferrand of Flanders claimed Paris and all the -adjacent territory for himself. All laws and customs established by -Philip were to be done away, and the feudal system restored, as it had -been seen a century and a half before. Various other changes were -determined upon; but that which was principally calculated to destroy -their alliance, was the resolution to attack the power of the church, -and to divide its domains amongst the barons and the knights. - -John had felt the lash of a papal censure; and, though the -ecclesiastical authority had been exercised for the purpose of raising -Otho to the imperial throne, he also had since experienced the weight -of the church's domination, and had become inimical to the sway by -which he had been formerly supported. Nothing then was spoken of less -than reducing the power of Rome, and seizing on the luxurious wealth -of the clergy. - -Innocent the pope heard and trembled; and, though he the very first -had laid the basis of the confederacy against the French monarch, he -now saw consequences beyond it, that made him use every effort to stop -it in its career; but it was in vain. The hatreds he raised up against -Philip in his own dominions--the fears he had excited, and the -jealousies he had stimulated, were now producing their fruits; and a -bitter harvest they promised against himself. At the same time, as he -contemplated the approaching struggle, which was hurrying on with -inconceivable rapidity to its climax, he beheld nothing but danger -from whatever party might prove victorious. Over the King of France, -however, he fancied he had some check, so long as the question of his -divorce remained undecided, and consequently the usual doubts and -hesitations of the church of Rome were prolonged even beyond their -ordinary measure of delay. - -The confederation had not been so silent in its movements but that the -report thereof had reached the ears of Philip Augustus. Care had been -taken, however, that the immediate preparations should be made as -privately as possible, so that the first intimation that the troops of -the coalition were actually in the field against him, was given by the -movement of the Earl of Salisbury, upon Flanders. - -After that moment, however, "post after post came thick as hail," -announcing the various motions of the allies. A hundred and fifty -thousand men, of all nations and arms, were already assembled on the -banks of the Scheld. John of England was in arms in Poitou; and more -than twenty strong places had submitted to him without a stroke. -Otho's imperial banner was given to the wind; and fresh thousands were -flocking to it every hour, as if his very Gothic name had called -together the myriads of the North to a fresh invasion of the more -civilised world. - -At the same time, revolt and disaffection were manifest through every -district of Languedoc; and some of the nearest relations and oldest -friends of the French monarch swelled the ranks of his enemies. Such -were the tidings that every courier brought; and such were the forces -that threatened to overwhelm the kingdom of France and overthrow its -throne. - -It would be vain to say that Philip Augustus saw such a mighty -combination against him without alarm; but it was not the alarm of a -weak and feeble mind, which yields to difficulties, or shrinks from -danger. No sooner did he hear the extent to which his enemies' -preparations had been carried--an extent which he had not fully -anticipated--than he issued his charter, convoking the _ban_ and -_arrière ban_ of France to meet at Soissons, and calling to his aid -all good men and true throughout his dominions. - -Though far inferior in number to his enemies, the force he mustered -was any thing but insignificant. Then appeared the gratitude of the -communes towards the king who had enfrachised them. By their charters -they were bound to furnish a certain number of armed men in times of -need; but on this occasion there is every reason to believe that they -far exceeded their quota. - -Nor were the nobles and the knights a few who presented themselves at -the _monstre_ at Soissons. Seldom had France shown so brilliant a -display of chivalry; and even their inferiority of number was more -than compensated by their zeal and their renown in arms. - -First passed before the monarch, as he sat on his battle-horse -surrounded by the troops of his own domains, his faithful vassal, -Eudes, Duke of Burgundy, followed by all his vassals, vavassours, and -knights, with a long train of many thousand archers and men-at-arms -from all the vast lands of his kingly dukedom. - -Next came Thibalt of Champagne, yet in his green youth, but -accompanied by his uncle Philip, and a contingent of knights and -soldiers that was an army in itself. Then succeeded the Counts of -Dreux, Auxerre, Ponthieu, and St. Paul, each with a long train of -men-at-arms. De Coucy leading the troops of Tankerville, the Lords of -Montmorency, of Malvoisin, St. Valary, Mareiul, and Roye, with the -Viscount of Melun, and the famous Guillaume des Barres, followed -after; while the troops willingly raised by the clergy, and the long -trains of archers and men-at-arms furnished by the free cities, -completed the line, and formed an army of more than eighty thousand -men, all bedecked with glittering banners and dancing plumes, which -gave the whole that air of splendour and pageant that excites -enthusiasm and stimulates hope. - -The king's eyes lightened with joy as he looked upon them; and -conscious of his own great powers of mind to lead to the best effect -the noble host before him, he no longer doubted of victory. - -"Now," said he in his own breast, as he thought of all that the last -few years had brought--the humiliation that the pope had inflicted on -him--the agony of his parting from Agnes--the vow that had been -extorted from him not to see her till the council had pronounced upon -his divorce, if its sentence should be given within six months--the -long delays of the church of Rome, which had now nearly protracted its -deliberations beyond that period--the treason which the proceedings of -Innocent had stirred up amongst his vassals, mingled with the memory -of torn affections and many bitter injuries--"now! it shall be my turn -to triumph, Agnes! I will soon be thine, or in the grave! and let me -see the man, prelate or prince, who, when I have once more clasped -thy hand in mine, shall dare to pluck it thence! Now, now!" he -murmured,--"now the turn is mine!" - -Detaching a part of his new-raised army to keep in check the forces of -King John in Poitou, Philip Augustus, without a moment's delay, -marched to meet the chief body of the confederates in Flanders. - -All the horrors of a great and bloody warfare soon followed the bodies -of plunderers and adventurers that went before the army, burning, -pillaging, and destroying every thing, as they advanced beyond the -immediate territories of the king. Nothing was beheld as the army -advanced, but smoking ruins, devastated fields, and the dead bodies of -women and children, mingled with the half-consumed carcasses of -cattle, and the broken implements of industry and domestic comfort. It -was a piteous and sad sight to see all the pleasant dwellings of a -land laid waste, the hopes of the year's labour all destroyed; and the -busy human emmets, that had there toiled and joyed, swept away as if -the wing of a pestilence had brushed the face of the earth, or lying -murdered on their desolate hearths. - -Philip Augustus, more refined than his age, strove to soften the -rigours of warfare by many a proclamation against all useless -violence; but in that day such proclamations were in vain; and the -very unsheathing of war's flaming sword scorched up the land before it -struck. - -In the mean while, the Imperial forces, now swelled to more than two -hundred thousand men, marched eagerly to meet the king, and about the -same time each army arrived within a few miles of Tournay. - -Both chieftains longed for a battle, yet the ardour of Philip's forces -was somewhat slackened since their departure from Soissons. Ferrand of -Flanders and his confederates had contrived, with infinite art, to -seduce some of the followers of the French monarch, and to spread -doubt and suspicion over many others; so that Philip's reliance was -shaken in his troops, and most of the leaders divided amongst -themselves. - -Such' continued the doubtful state of the royal army when Philip -arrived at Tournay, and heard that the emperor, with all his forces, -was encamped at the village of Mortain, within ten miles of the city; -but still the king resolved to stake all upon a battle; for, though -his troops were inferior, he felt that his own superior mind was a -host; and he saw that, if the disaffection which was reported really -existed amongst his barons, delay would but increase it in a tenfold -degree. - -The evening had come, all his preparations were over he had summoned -his barons to council in an hour; and, sitting in a large chamber of -the old castle of Tournay, Philip had given order that he should not -be disturbed. - -He felt, as it were, a thirst for calm and tranquil thought. The last -few months of his existence had been given up to all the energy of -action; his reflections had been nothing but eternal calculation--the -combination of his own movements--the anticipation of his enemy's-- -plans of battle and policy; and all the thousand momentary anxieties -that press upon the general of a large and ill-organised army. He had -thought deeply and continually, it is true; but he had not time for -thoughts of that grand and extensive nature that raise and dignify the -mind every time they are indulged. Though Agnes, too, was still the -secret object that gave life and movement to all his energies--though -he loved her still with that deep, powerful love that is seldom -permitted to share the heart with ambition--though she, in fact, was -his ambition's object, and though the battle to which he strode would, -if won, place in his hands such power, that none should dare to hold -her from him--yet he had scarcely hitherto had an instant to bestow on -those calmer, sweeter, gentler ideas, where feeling mingles with -reflection, and relieves the mind from petty calculation and workday -cares. There are surely two distinct parts linked together in the -human soul--feeling and thought:--the thought, that receives, that -separates, that investigates, that combines;--the feeling, that hopes, -that wishes, that enjoys, that creates. - -Philip Augustus, however, felt a thirst for that calm reflection, -wherein feeling has the greater shared and, covering his eyes with his -hands, he now abandoned himself to it altogether. The coming day was -to be a day of bloodshed and of strife,--a day that was to hurl him -from a throne, or to crown him with immortal renown,--to leave him a -corpse on the cold field of battle, or to increase his power and -glory, and restore him to Agnes. He thought of it long and deeply. He -thought of what would be Agnes' grief if she heard that her husband, -that her lover had fallen before his enemies; and he wrung his own -heart by picturing the agony of hers. Then again came brighter -visions. Hope rose up and grew into expectation; and he fancied what -would be her joy, when, crowned with the laurel of victory, and -scoffing to shame the impotent thunder of the Roman church, he should -clasp her once more in his arms, and bid her tread upon the necks of -her enemies. Ambition perhaps had its share in his breast, and his -thoughts might run on to conquest yet to come, and to mighty schemes -of polity and aggrandisement; but still Agnes had therein a share. In -the chariot of victory, or on the imperial throne, imagination always -placed her by his side. - -His dream was interrupted by a quick step, and the words, "My lord!" -and, uncovering his eyes, he beheld Guerin advancing from behind the -tapestry that fell over the door. - -"What now, Guerin?" cried the king somewhat impatiently. "What now?" - -"My lord," replied the minister, "I would not have intruded, but that -I have just seen a fellow, who brings tidings from the enemy's camp, -of such importance, I judged that you would willingly give ear to it -yourself." - -"Knowest thou the man?" demanded Philip: "I love not spies." - -"I cannot say with any certainty, that I have before seen him, sire," -replied Guerin, "though I have some remembrance of his face. He says, -however, that he was foot-servant to Prince Arthur, who hired him at -Tours; and he gives so clear an account of the taking of Mirebeau, and -the subsequent disasters, that there is little doubt of his tale. He -says moreover, that, being taken there with the rest, Lord Salisbury -has kept him with him since, to dress one of his horses; till, finding -himself so near the royal army, he made his escape like a true man." - -"Admit him," said the king: "his tale is a likely one." - -Guerin retired for a moment; and then returned, with a bony, powerful -man, whose short cut hair, long beard, and mustachoes, offered so -different an appearance to the face of anything like a Frenchman in -those days, that Philip gazed on him with some doubts. - -"How, fellow!" cried he; "thou art surely some Polack, no true -Frenchman, with thy beard like a hermit's, and thy hair like a -hedge-hog!" - -The man's tongue, however, at once showed that he claimed France for -his country justly; and his singular appearance he accounted for, by -saying it was a whim of the Earl of Salisbury. - -"Answer me then," said the king, looking upon him somewhat sternly. -"Where were your tents pitched in the enemy's camp?--You will find I -know their forces as well as you; and if you deceive me, you die." - -"The tents of the Earl of Salisbury are pitched between those of the -Count of Holland and the troops of the emperor, so please you, sire," -replied the man boldly. "I came to tell you the truth, not to deceive -you." - -"You have spoken truth in one thing, at least," replied the monarch. -"One more question," he continued, looking at some notes on the -table,--"one more question, and thou shalt tell thy tale thy own way. -What troops lie behind those of the Duke of Brabant, and what are -their number?" - -"The next tents to those of the Duke of Brabant," replied the man, -"are those of the Duke of Lorraine, amounting, they say in the camp, -to nine hundred knights and seven thousand men-at-arms." - -"Thou art right in the position, fellow, and nearly right in the -number," replied the king, "therefore will I believe thee. Now repeat -the news that you gave to that good knight." - -"May it please you, sire," replied the man, with a degree of boldness -that amounted almost to affectation, "late last night, a council was -held in the tent of the emperor; and the Earl of Salisbury chose me to -hold his horse near the entrance of the tent,--for he is as proud an -Englishman as ever buckled on spurs;--and, though all the other -princes contented themselves with leaving their horses on the outside -of the second guard, he must needs ride to the very door of the tent, -and have his horse held there till he came out." - -"By my faith! 'tis like their island pride!" said the king. "Each -Englishman fancies himself equal to a prince. But proceed with thy -tale, and be quick, for the hour of the council approaches." - -"My story is a very short one, sire," replied the man, "for it was but -little I heard. However, after they had spoken within the tent for -some time in a low voice, the emperor's tongue sounded very loud, as -if some one had opposed him; and I heard him say, 'He will march -against us, whatever be the peril--I know him well; and then, at the -narrow passage of Damarets we will cut them off to a man, for Sir Guy -de Coucy has promised to embarrass their rear with the men of -Tankerville;--and he will keep his word too!' cried the emperor -loudly, as if some one had seemed to doubt it, 'for we have promised -him the hand of his lady love, the daughter of Count Julian of the -Mount, if we win the victory.' - -"Ha!" cried the king, turning his eyes from the countenance of the -informer to that of Guerin,--"ha! this is treason, indeed! Said they -aught else, fellow, that you heard?" - -"They spoke of there being many traitors in your host, sire," replied -the man; "but they named none else but Sir Guy de Coucy; and just then -I heard the Earl of Salisbury speak as if he were walking to the mouth -of the tent. 'If Philip discovers his treason,' said he, 'he will cut -off his head, and then your plan is nought.' Just as he spoke, he came -out, and seeing me stand near the tent, he bade me angrily go farther -off, so that I heard no more." - -"Have Sir Guy de Coucy to prison!" said the king, turning to Guerin. -"By the holy rood! we will follow the good Earl of Salisbury's plan, -and have one traitor less in the camp!" - -As he heard these words, the eyes of the informer sparkled with a -degree of joy, that did not escape the keen observing glance of the -king; but, wishing to gain more certain knowledge, he thanked him with -condescending dignity for the news he had given, and told him to wait -amongst the serjeants of arms below, till the council should be over, -when the chancellor would give him a purse of gold, as a reward for -his services. The man with a low reverence retired. "Follow, Guerin," -cried Philip hastily. "Bid some of the serjeants look to him narrowly, -but let them treat him well. Lead him to babble, if it be possible. -However, on no account let him escape. Have this De Coucy to prison -too, though I doubt the tale." - -Guerin turned to obey; but, at that moment, the pages from without -opened the doors of the chamber, giving entrance to the barons who had -been called to the council. - -A moment of bustle succeeded; and by the time that Guerin could quit -the king, the man who had brought the information we have just heard -was gone, and nowhere to be found. - -So suspicious a circumstance induced Guerin to refrain from those -strong measures against De Coucy which the king had commanded, till he -had communicated with the monarch on the subject. He sent down, -however to the young knight's quarters, to require his presence at the -castle on business of import; when the answer returned by his squires -was, that De Coucy himself, his squire Hugo de Barre, who had by this -time been ransomed by his lord, his page, and a small party of lances, -had been absent ever since the encampment had been completed, and no -one knew whither they had gone. - -Guerin knit his brows; for he would have staked much upon De Coucy's -honour; but yet, his absence at so critical a moment was difficult to -be accounted for. He returned to Philip instantly, and found the -council still in deliberation; some of its members being of opinion -that it would be better to march directly forward upon Mortain and -attack the enemy without loss of time; and others, again strongly -counselling retreat upon Peronne. - -Many weighty arguments had been produced on both sides, and at the -moment Guerin entered, a degree of silence had taken place previous to -the king's pronouncing his final decision. Guerin, however, approached -the monarch, and bending beside him, informed him, in a low voice, of -what he had just heard. - -The king listened, knitting his brows and fixing his eyes upon the -table, till Guerin had concluded; then raising his head, and thinking -for a moment, without taking any immediate notice of what the minister -had said, he announced his decision on the point before the council. - -"Noble lords," said he, "we have heard and weighed your opinions upon -the conduct of the war; but various circumstances will induce us, in -some degree, to modify both, or, rather, to take a medium between -them. If we advance upon the enemy at Mortain, we expose ourself to -immense disadvantage in the narrow passage by Damarets. This -consideration opposes itself on the one hand; and on the other, it -must never be said that Philip of France fled before his enemies, when -supported by so many true and faithful peers as we see around us -here;" and the monarch glanced his eagle eye rapidly from face to -face, with a look which, without evincing doubt, gathered at once the -expression of each as he spoke. "Our determination therefore is, early -to-morrow morning to march, as if towards Lille; and the next day, -wheeling through the open plains of that country, to take the enemy on -their flank, before they are aware of our designs. By dawn, therefore, -I pray ye, noble peers, have your men all arrayed beneath your -banners, and we will march against our enemy; who, be assured, -whatever fair promises he holds out, is not alone the enemy of Philip, -but of every true Frenchman. You are fighting for your hearths and for -your homes; and where is the man, that will not strike boldly in such -a quarrel? For to-night, lords, adieu! To-morrow we will meet you with -the first ray of the sun." - -With these words the council broke up, and the barons took their leave -and withdrew; some well contented with the king's plan, some murmuring -that their opinion had not been conceded to, and some perhaps -disappointed with a scheme that threatened failure to the very -confederacy against which they appeared in arms. - -"'Tis strange, Guerin! 'tis strange!" cried the king, as soon as his -peers were gone, "We have traitors amongst us, I fear!--Yet I will not -believe that De Coucy is false. His absence is unaccountable; but, -depend on it, there is some good cause;--and yet, that groom's tale -against him! 'Tis strange! I doubt some of the faces, too, that I have -seen but now. But I will try them, Guerin--I will try them; and if -they be traitors, they shall damn themselves to hell!" - -As the king had commanded, with the first ray of the sun the host was -under arms; and stretching out in a long line under the walls of -Tournay, it offered a gay and splendid sight, with the horizontal -beams of the early morning shining bright on a thousand banners, and -flashing back from ten thousand lances. - -The marshals had scarcely arrayed it five minutes, when the king, -followed by his glittering train, issued forth from the castle, -mounted on a superb black charger, and armed cap-à-pié. He rode slowly -from one end of the line to the other, bowing his plumed helmet in -answer to the shouts and acclamations of the troops, and then returned -to the very centre of the host. Circling round the crest of his casque -were seen the golden fleurs de lis of the crown of France; and it was -remarked, that behind him two of his attendants carried an immense -golden wine-cup called a hanap, and a sharp naked sword. - -In the centre of the line the king paused, and raised the volant piece -of his helmet, when his face might be seen by every one, calm, proud, -and dignified. At a sign from the monarch, two priests approached, -carrying a large silver cruise and a small loaf of bread, which Philip -received from their hands; and, cutting the bread into pieces with the -edge of the sword carried by his attendant, he placed the pieces in -the chalice, and then poured it full of wine. - -"Barons of France!" cried he, in a loud voice, which made itself heard -to an immense distance,--"Barons of France! Some foul liar last night -sent me word, that there were traitors in my council and rebels in my -host. Here I stand before you all, bearing on my casque the crown of -France; and if amongst you there be one man that judges me unworthy to -wear that crown, instantly let him separate from my people and depart -to my enemies. He shall go free and unscathed, with his arms and -followers, on the honour of a king! But those noble barons who are -willing to fight and to die with their sovereign, in defence of their -wives, their children, their homes, and their country--let them come -forward; and in union with their king, eat this consecrated bread, and -taste this sacred wine; and cursed be he who shall hereafter forget -this sign of unity and fellowship!" - -A loud shout from the whole host was the first reply; and then each -baron, without an exception, hurried forward before the ranks, and -claimed to pledge himself as Philip had proposed. - -In the midst of the ceremony, however, a tall strong man in black -armour pushed his way through the rest, exclaiming--"Give me the cup! -give me the cup!" - -When it was placed in his hands, he raised it first to his head, -without lifting the visor of his helmet; but, finding his mistake, he -unclasped the volant hurriedly, and throwing it back, discovered the -wild countenance of Count Thibalt d'Auvergne. He then raised again the -cup, and with a quick, but not ungraceful movement, bowed low to -Philip, and drank some of the wine. - -"Philip, king of France, I am yours till death," he said, when he had -drunk; and after gazing for a few moments earnestly in the king's -face, he turned his horse and galloped back to a large body of lances, -a little in the rear of the line. - -"Unhappy man!" said the king; and turning to Guerin, he added--"Let -him be looked to, Guerin. See who is with him." - -On sending to inquire, however, it was replied, that the Count -d'Auvergne was there with his vassals and followers, to serve his -sovereign Philip Augustus, in his wars, as a true and faithful -liegeman. - -Satisfied, therefore, that he was under good and careful guidance, the -king turned his thoughts back to other subjects; and, having briefly -thanked his barons for their ready zeal, commanded the army to begin -its march upon Lille. - - - - -CHAPTER XII. - - -Between Mortain and Tournay, in a small road with high banks on either -side, the shrubs and flowers of which were covered with a thick -coating of dust, rode two of our old acquaintances, on the same -morning that the review we have just described took place in the army -of the king. - -The first, armed in haubergeon and casque, with his haussecol, or -gorget, hiding his long beard, and his helmet covering his short cut -hair, it was no longer difficult to recognise as Jodelle the -Brabançois, whom we saw last in an assumed character before Philip -Augustus. By his side, more gaudily costumed than ever, with a long -peacock's feather ornamenting his black cap, rode Gallon the fool. - -Though two persons of such respectability might well have pretended to -some attendants, they were alone; and Jodelle, who seemed in some -haste, and not particularly pleased with his companion's society, was -pricking on at a sharp pace. But Gallon's mare, on which he was once -more mounted, had been trained by himself, and ambled after the -coterel's horse, with a sweet sort of pertinacity from which there was -no escaping. - -"Why follow you me, fool, devil?" cried the Brabançois.--"Get thee -gone! We shall meet again. Fear not! I am in haste; and, my curse upon -those idiot Saxons that let you go, when I charged them to keep you, -after you hunted me all the way from your camp to ours last night." - -"Haw, haw!" cried Gallon, showing all his white sharp teeth to the -very back, as he grinned at Jodelle;--"haw, haw! thou art ungrateful, -sire Jodelle--Haw, haw! to think of a coterel being ungrateful! Did -not I let thee into all Coucy's secrets two days ago? Did not I save -thy neck from the hangman five months ago? And now, thou ungrateful -hound, thou grudgest me thy sweet company.--Haw, haw! I that love -thee,--haw, haw, haw! I that enjoy thy delectable society!--Haw, haw! -Haw, haw! Haw, haw!" and he rolled and shouted with laughter, as if -the very idea of any one loving the Brabançois was sufficient to -furnish the whole world with mirth. "So, thou toldest thy brute -Saxons to keep me, or hang me, or burn me alive, if they would, last -night--ay, and my bonny mare too; saying, it was as great devil as -myself. Haw, haw! maître Jodelle! They told me all. But they fell in -love with my phiz; and let me go, all for the sweetness of my -countenance. Who can resist my wonderous charms?" and he contorted his -features into a form that left them the likeness of nothing human. -"But I'll plague thee!" he continued; "I'll never leave thee, till I -see what thou dost with that packet in thy bosom.--Haw, haw! I'll -teaze thee! I have plagued the Coucy enough, for a blow he gave me one -day. Haw, haw! that I have! Now, methinks, I'll have done with that, -and do him some good service!" - -"Thou'lt never serve him more, fool!" cried Jodelle, his eyes gleaming -with sanguinary satisfaction; "I have paid him, too, for the blow he -gave me--and for more things than that! His head is off by this time, -juggler! I heard the order given myself--ay, and I caused that order. -Ha! canst thou do a feat like that?" - -"Haw, haw! Haw, haw, haw!" screamed Gallon, wriggling his snout hither -and thither, and holding his sides with laughter. "Haw, haw! thou -dolt! thou ass! thou block! thou stump of an old tree! By the Lord! -thou must be a wit after all, to invent such a piece of uncommon -stupidity.--Haw, haw, haw! Haw, haw! Didst thou think, that I would -have furnished thee with a good tale against the Coucy, and given -thee means of speech with the chancellor himself, without taking -care to get the cow-killing, hammer-fisted homicide out of the way -first?--Haw, haw! thou idiot. Haw, haw, haw!--Lord! what an ass a -coterel is!--Haw, haw, haw!" - -"Not such an ass as thou dreamest, fiend!" muttered Jodelle, setting -his teeth close, and almost resolved to aim a blow with his dagger at -the juggler as he rode beside him. But Gallon had always one of his -eyes, at least, fixed upon his companion; and, in truth, Jodelle had -seen so much of his extraordinary activity and strength that he held -Gallon in some dread, and scarcely dared to close with him in fair and -equal fight. He had smothered his vengeance for long, however, and he -had no inclination to delay it much longer, as the worthy Brabançois -had more reasons than one for resolving to rid himself of the society -of a person so little trustworthy as Gallon, in the most summary -manner possible--but the only question was how to take him at a -disadvantage. - -For this purpose, it was necessary to cover every appearance of wrath, -that the juggler might be thrown off his guard. Jodelle smoothed his -brow therefore, and, after a moment, affected to join in Gallon's -laugh. "Thou art a cunning dealer!" said he--"thou art a cunning -dealer, sir Gallon! But, in troth, I should like to know how thou -didst contrive to beguile this De Coucy away from the army, as thou -sayest, at such a moment." - -"Haw, haw!" cried Gallon--"haw, haw! 'Twas no hard work. How dost thou -catch a sparrow, sire Jodelle? Is it not by spreading out some crumbs? -Well, by the holy rood! as he says himself, I sent him a goose's -errand all the way down the river, to reconnoitre a party of men whom -I made Ermold the page, make Hugo the squire, make Coucy the knight, -believe were going to take the king's host on the flank!--Haw, haw! Oh -rare!" - -"By St. Peter! thou hast betrayed what I told thee when we were -drinking two nights since," cried Jodelle. "Fool! thou wilt have my -dagger in thee if thou heedest not!" - -"Oh rare!" shouted Gallon, "Oh rare! What then, did I tell the Coucy -true, when I said Count Julian of the Mount, and William de la Roche -Guyon, were there with ten thousand men?--Haw, haw! did I tell him -true, coterel? Talk not to me of daggers, lout, or I'll drive mine in -under thy fifth rib, and leave thee as dead as a horse's bones on a -common. Haw, haw! I thought the Coucy would have gone down with all -the men of Tankerville, and have chined me that fair-faced coward, -that once fingered this great monument of my beauty;" and he laid his -finger on his long unnatural snout, with so mingled an expression of -face, that it was difficult to decide whether he spoke in vanity or -mockery. "But he only went down to reconnoitre," added the juggler. -"The great ninny! he might have swallowed father and lover up at a -mouthful, and then married the heiress if he had liked! And he calls -me fool, too! Oh rare!--But where art thou going, beau sire Jodelle? I -saw all your army a-foot before I left them to come after you; and I -dreamed that they were going to cut off the king at the passage by -Bovines; and doubtless thou art bearer of an order to Sir Julian, and -Count William, with the Duke of Limburg and the men of Ardennes, to -take him in the rear. Haw, haw! there will be fine smashing of bones, -and hacking of flesh. I must be there to have the picking of the dead -men." - -Thus ran on Gallon, rambling from subject to subject, but withal -betraying so clear a knowledge of all the plans of the imperial army, -that Jodelle believed his information to be little less than magical; -though indeed Gallon was indebted for it to strolling amongst the -tents of the Germans the night before, and catching here and -there, while he amused the knights and squires with his tricks of -_jonglerie_, all the rumours that were afloat concerning the movements -of the next day. From these, with a happiness that madness sometimes -has, he jumped at conclusions, which many a wiser brain would have -missed, and, like a blind man stumbling on a treasure, hit by accident -upon the exact truth. - -As his conversation with Jodelle arrived at this particular point, the -road which they were pursuing opened out upon a little irregular piece -of ground, bisected by another by-path, equally ornamented by high -rough banks. Nevertheless, neither of these roads traversed the centre -of the little green or common; the one which the travellers were -pursuing skirting along the side, under the sort of cliff by which it -was flanked, and the other edging the opposite extreme. At the -intersection of the paths, however, on the very top of the farther -bank, stood a tall elm tree, which Gallon measured with his eye as -they approached. - -"Haw, haw!" cried he, delighting in every recollection that might -prove unpleasant to his neighbours.--"Haw, haw! Beau sire Jodelle! -Monstrous like the tree on which they were going to hang you, near the -Pont de l'Arche! Haw, haw, haw! The time when you were like to be -hanged, and I saved you--you remember?" - -"Thou didst not save me, fool!" replied the Brabançois: "'twas king -John saved me. I would not owe my life to such a foul fool as thou -art, for all that it is worth. The king saved my life to do a great -deed of vengeance, which I will accomplish yet before I die," added -Jodelle, "and then I'll account with him too, for what I owe him--he -shall not be forgot! no, no!" and the plunderer's eyes gleamed as he -thought of the fate that the faithless monarch had appointed for him, -and connected it with the vague schemes of vengeance that were -floating through his own brain. - -"Haw, haw!" cried Gallon. "If thou goest not to hell, sire Jodelle, -thou art sure t'will not be for lack of thanklessness, to back your -fair bevy of gentlemanly vices. John, the gentle, sent thee thy -pardon, that thou mightest murder De Coucy for prating of his -murdering Arthur,--I know that as well as thou dost; but had my tongue -not been quicker than his messenger's horse, thou wouldst soon have -been farther on your road to heaven than ever you may be again. Oh -rare! How the crows of the _Pont de l'Arche_ must hate me! Haw, haw! -vinegar face! didst ever turn milk sour with thy sharp nose?--Hark! -Hear you not a distant clatter? Your army is marching down towards the -bridge, prince Pumkin," he rambled on; "I'll up into yon tree, and -see; for this country is as flat as peas porridge." - -So saying. Gallon sprang to the ground, climbed the bank in an -instant, and walked up the straight boll of the tree, as easily as if -he had been furnished with a ladder; giving a quick glance round, -however, every step, to see that Jodelle did not take any advantage of -him. - -His movements had been so rapid, that with the best intentions -thereunto in the world, the coterel could not have injured him in his -ascent; and when he was once up, he began to question him on what he -saw. - -"What do I see?" said Gallon. "Why, when I look that way, I see German -asses, and Lorraine foxes, and English curs, and Flanders mules, all -marching down towards the river as quietly as may be; and when I look -the other way, I perceive a whole band of French monkeys, tripping on -gaily without seeing the others; and when I look down there," he -continued, pointing to Jodelle, "I see a Provençal wolf, hungry for -plunder, and thirsty for blood;" and Gallon began to descend the tree. - -As he had spoken, there was a sound of horses heard coming up the -road, and Jodelle spurred close up under the bank, as if to catch a -glance of the persons who were approaching; but, at the same moment, -he quietly drew his sword. Gallon instantly perceived his man[oe]uvre, -and attempted to spring up the tree once more. - -Ere he could do so, however, Jodelle struck at him; and though he -could only reach high enough to wound the tendon of his leg, the pain -made the juggler let go his hold, and he fell to the top of the bank, -nearly on a level with the face of the coterel, who, rising in his -stirrups, with the full lunge of his arm, plunged his sword into his -body. - -Though mortally wounded, Gallon, without word or groan, rolled down -the bank, and clung to the legs of his enemy's horse, impeding the -motions of the animal as much as if it had been clogged; while at the -same time Jodelle now urged it furiously with the spur; for the sound -of coming cavaliers, and the glance of a knight's pennon from behind -the turn of the road, at about an hundred yards' distance, showed him -that he must either ride on, or take the risk of the party being -inimical to his own. - -Three times the horse, plunging furiously under the spur, set its feet -full on the body of the unfortunate juggler; but still he kept his -hold, without a speech or outcry, till suddenly shouting "Haw, -haw!--Haw, haw, haw!--The Coucy! the Coucy! Haw, haw!" he let go his -hold; and the coterel galloped on at full speed, ascertaining by a -single glance, that Gallon's shout announced nothing but the truth. - -De Coucy's eyes were quick, however; and his horse far fleeter than -that of the coterel. He saw Jodelle, and recognised him instantly; -while the dying form of Gallon, and the blood that stained the dry -white sand of the road, in dark red patches round about, told their -own tale, and were not to be mistaken. Without pausing to clasp his -visor, or to brace his shield, the knight snatched his lance from his -squire, struck his spurs into the flanks of his charger; and, before -Jodelle had reached the other side of the little green, the iron of -the spear struck him between the shoulders, and, passing through his -plastron as if it had been made of parchment, hurled him from his -horse, never to mount again. A shrill cry like that of a wounded -vulture, as the knight struck him, and a deep groan as he fell to the -ground, were the only sounds that the plunderer uttered more. De Coucy -tugged at his lance for a moment, endeavouring to shake it free from -the body; but, finding that he could not do so without dismounting, he -left it in the hands of his squire, and returned to the spot where -Gallon the fool still lay, surrounded by part of the young knight's -train. - -"Coucy, Coucy!" cried the dying juggler, in a faint voice, "Gallon is -going on the long journey! Come hither, and speak to him before he -sets out!" - -The young knight put his foot to the ground, and came close up to his -wounded follower, who gazed on him with wistful eyes, in which shone -the first glance of affection, perhaps, that ever he had bestowed on -mortal man. - -"I am sorry to leave thee, Coucy!" said he, "I am sorry to leave thee, -now it comes to this--I love thee better than I thought. Give me thy -hand." - -De Coucy spoke a few words of kindness to him, and let him take his -hand, which he carried feebly to his lips, and licked it like a dying -dog. - -"I have spited you very often, Coucy," said the juggler; "and do you -know I am sorry for it now, for you have been kinder to me than any -one else. Will you forgive me?" - -"Yes, my poor Gallon," replied the knight: "I know of no great evil -thou hast done; and even if thou hast, I forgive thee from my heart." - -"Heaven bless thee for it!" said Gallon.--"Heaven bless thee for -it!--But hark thee, De Coucy! I will do thee one good turn before I -die. Give me some wine out of thy _boutiau_, mad Ermold the page, and -I will tell the Coucy where I have wronged him, and where he may right -himself. Give me some wine, quick, for my horse is jogging to the -other world." - -Ermold, as he was desired, put the leathern bottle, which every one -travelled with in those days, to the lips of the dying man; who, after -a long draught, proceeded with his confession. We will pass over many -a trick which he acknowledged to have played his lord in the Holy -Land, at Constantinople, and in Italy, always demanding between each, -"Can you forgive me now?" De Coucy's heart was not one to refuse -pardon to a dying man; and Gallon proceeded to speak of the deceit he -had put upon him concerning the lands of the Count de Tankerville. "It -was all false together," said he. "The Vidame of Besançon told me to -tell you, that his friend, the Count de Tankerville, had sent a -charter to be kept in the king's hands, giving you all his feofs; and -now, when he sees you with the army, commanding the men of -Tankerville, the vidame thinks that you are commanding them by your -own right, not out of the good will of the king. Besides, he told me, -he did not know whether your uncle was dead or not; but that Bernard, -the hermit of Vincennes, could inform you." - -"But why did you not--?" demanded De Coucy. - -"Ask me no questions, Coucy," cried Gallon: "I have but little breath -left; and that must go to tell you something more important still. -From the top of yon tree, I saw the king marching down to the bridge -at Bovines; and, without his knowing it, the enemy are marching after -him. If he gets half over, he is lost. I heard Henry of Brabant last -night say, that they would send a plan of their battle to the Duke of -Limburg, Count Julian, and William de la Roche Guyon, whose troops I -sent you after, down the river. He said too," proceeded Gallon, -growing apparently fainter as he spoke,--"he said too, that it was to -be carried by one who well knew the French camp. Oh, Coucy, my breath -fails me. Jodelle, the coterel--he is the man, I am sure--the papers -are on him.--But, Coucy! Coucy!" he continued, gasping for breath, and -holding the knight with a sort of convulsive grasp, as he saw him -turning to seek the important packet he mentioned,--"do not go, Coucy! -do not go to the camp--they think you a traitor.--Oh, how dim my eyes -grow!--They will have your head off--don't go--you'll be of no use -with the head off--Haw, haw! haw, haw!" And with a faint effort at his -old wild laugh. Gallon the fool gave one or two sharp shudders, and -yielded the spirit, still holding De Coucy tight by the arm. - -"He is gone!" said the knight, disengaging himself from his grasp. -"Our army marching upon Bovines!" continued he: "can it be true? They -were not to quit Tournay for two days.--Up, Ermold, into that tree, -and see whether you can gain any sight of them. Quick! for we must -spur hard, if it be true.--You, Hugo, search the body of the -coterel.--Quick, Ermold--hold by that branch--there, your foot on the -other! See you any thing now?" - -With some difficulty, Ermold de Marcy, though an active youth, had -climbed half-way up the tree that Gallon had sprung up like a -squirrel; and now, holding round it with both legs and arms, he gazed -out over the far prospect. "I see spears," cried he,--"I see spears -marching on by the river--and I can see the bridge too!" - -"Are there any men on it?" cried De Coucy:--"how far is it from the -foremost spears?" - -"It is clear yet!" replied the page; "but the lances in the van are -not half a mile from it!" - -"Look to the right!--look to the right!" cried the knight; "towards -Mortain, what see you?" - -"I see a clump or two of spears," replied the youth, "scattered here -and there; but over one part, that seems a valley, there rises a -cloud;--it maybe the morning mist--it may be dust:--stay, I will climb -higher;" and he contrived to reach two or three branches above. -"Lances, as I live!" cried he: "I see the steel heads glittering -through the cloud of dust, and moving on, just above the place where -the hill cuts them. They are rising above the slope--now they dip down -again--thousands on thousands--never did I see such a host in -Christendom or Paynimry!" - -"Come down, Ermold, and mount!" cried the knight. "Two of the servants -of arms, take up yon poor fellow's body!" he continued, "and bear it -to the cottage where we watered our horses but now--then follow -towards the bridge with all speed.--Now, Hugo, hast thou the packet? -'Tis it, by the holy rood!" he added, taking a sealed paper that the -squire had found upon Jodelle. "To horse! to horse! We shall reach the -king's host yet, ere the van has passed the bridge. He must fight -there or lose all." And followed by the small body of spears that -accompanied him, Guy de Coucy spurred on at full gallop towards the -bridge of Bovines. - -The distance might be about four miles; but ere he had ridden one-half -of that way, he came suddenly upon a body of about twenty spears, at -the top of a slight rise that concealed each party till they were -within fifty yards of the other. "Down with your lances!" cried De -Coucy; "France! France! A Coucy! a Coucy!" and in an instant the -spears of his followers, to the number of about seventy, were levelled -in a long straight row. - -"France! France!" echoed the other party; and, riding forward, De -Coucy was met in mid space by the Chancellor Guerin,--armed at all -points, but bearing the coat and cross of a knight hospitaller--and -Adam Viscount de Melun, who had together ridden out from the main body -of the army, to ascertain the truth of some vague reports, that the -enemy had left Mortain, and was pursuing with all his forces. - -"Well met. Sir Guy de Coucy," said Guerin. "By your cry of France but -now, I trust you are no traitor to France, though strange accusations -against you reached the king last night; and your absence at a moment -of danger countenanced them. I have order," he added, "to attach you -for treason." - -"Whosoever calls me traitor, lies in his teeth," replied the knight -rapidly, eager to arrive at the king's host with all speed. "My -absence was in the kings service; and as to attaching me for treason, -lord bishop," he added with a smile, "methinks my seventy lances -against your twenty will soon cancel your warrant. I dreamed not that -the king would think of marching to-day, being Sunday, or I should -have returned before. But now, my lord, my errand is to the king -himself, and 'tis one also that requires speed. The enemy are -following like hounds behind the deer. I have here a plan of their -battle. They hope to surprise the king at the passage of the river. He -must halt on this side, or all is lost. From that range of low hills, -most likely you will see the enemy advancing.--Farewell." - -Guerin, who had never for a moment doubted the young knight's -innocence, did not of course attempt to stay him, and De Coucy once -more galloped on at full speed. He soon began to fall in with -stragglers from the different bodies of the royal forces; camp -followers, plunderers, skirmishers, pedlars, jugglers, cooks, and all -the train of extraneous living lumber attached to an army of the -thirteenth century. From these he could gain no certain information -of where the king was to be found. Some said he had passed the -bridge,--some said he was yet in the rear; and, finding that they were -all as ignorant on the subject as himself, the young knight sped on; -and passing by several of the thick battalions which were hurrying on -through clouds of July dust towards the bridge, he demanded of one of -the leaders, where was the king. - -"I heard but now, that he was in that green meadow to the right," -replied the other knight; "and, see!" he added, pointing with his -lance, "that may be he, under those ash-trees." - -De Coucy turned his eyes in the direction the other pointed, and -perceived a group of persons, some on horseback, some on foot, -standing round one who, stretched upon the grass, lay resting himself -under the shadow of a graceful clump of ash-trees. Close behind him -stood a squire, holding a casque in his hand; and another, at a little -distance, kept in the ardour of a magnificent battle-horse, that, -neighing and pawing the grass, seemed eager to join the phalanx that -defiled before him. - -It was evidently the king who lay there; and De Coucy, bringing his -men to a halt, at the side of the high road, along which the rest were -pressing, troop after troop, towards the bridge, spurred on, followed -by his squires alone, and rode up to the group at once. - -Philip Augustus raised his eyes to De Coucy's face as he came up; and, -at a few paces, the young knight sprang from his horse, and casting -his rein to Hugo de Barre, approached the monarch. - -"My lord," said he earnestly, as soon as he was within hearing, "I -beseech you to order a halt, and command your troops who have passed -the bridge to return. The enemy are not half a mile from you; and -before half the army can pass, you will be attacked on all sides." - -De Coucy spoke rapidly, and the king answered in the same manner. "Sir -Guy de Coucy," said he, without rising, however, "you are accused to -me of treason. Ought I to listen to counsel from a man in that -situation?" - -"My lord the king," replied the knight, "God send you many such good -_traitors_ as I am! There is the enemy's plan of attack;--at least, so -I believe, for I have not opened it. You will see by the seal it is -from the Duke of Brabant; and by the superscription, that it is to the -Duke of Limburgh, together with Count Julian of the Mount, and Count -William de la Roche Guyon, his allies. I reconnoitred their forces -last night; they amount to fifteen thousand men; and lie three miles -down the river." - -The king took the paper, and hastily cut the silk with his dagger. -"Halt!" cried he, after glancing his eye over it. "Mareuil de -Malvoisin, command a halt!--Ho, Guerin!" he cried, seeing the minister -riding quickly towards him. "Have you seen the enemy?" - -"They are advancing with all speed, sire," shouted the hospitaller as -he rode up. "For God's sake, sire, call back the troops! They are -coming up like the swarms of locusts we have seen in Palestine. Their -spears are like corn in August." - -"We will reap them," cried Philip, starting up with a triumphant smile -upon his lip,--"we will reap them!--To arms! Warriors, to arms!" And -putting his foot in the stirrup, he stood with his hand upon the -horse's neck, turning to those about him, and multiplying his orders -with the prompt activity of his keen all-grasping mind. "The oriflamme -has passed the bridge; speed to bring it back, Renault.--Hugo, to the -Count of St. Pol! bid him return with all haste.--De Coucy, I did you -wrong--forget it, and strike this day as you are wont.--Guerin, array -the host as we determined. See that the faithful communes be placed in -our own battle, but let Arras and Amiens hold the second line. Let the -barons and the knights stretch out as far as may be;--remember! every -man's own lance and shield must be his safeguard.--Eustache, speed to -the Count de Beaumont; bid him re-pass the river at the ford, and take -his place at the right.--Now, Guerin, hasten! Let the sergeants of -Soissons begin the battle, that the enemy may be broken ere the -knights charge.--Away, De Coucy! Lead Tankerville well, and win the -day.--Guillaume de Mortemar, stay by our person." - -Such were some of the orders given by Philip Augustus: then, springing -on his horse, he received his casque, and, raising the visor, sat in -silence gazing upon the field, which was clear and open on all sides, -except the road, through which the troops were still seen approaching -towards the bridge; and which, in the other direction, wound away -towards Tournay, through some small woods and valleys that hid the -rear guard from view. - -In the meanwhile, Guerin, whose long experience as a knight -hospitaller qualified him well to marshal the army, hastened to array -all the troops that had yet arrived on the plain, taking care to keep -the entrance of the bridge free, that the forces which had already -passed and were returning upon their steps, might take up their -position without confusion and disarray. At that moment, a messenger -arrived in breathless haste from the rear of the army, stating that -the enemy were already engaged with the light troops of Auxerre, who -sustained themselves with difficulty, and demanded help. But even -while he spoke, the two bodies engaged issued forth upon the plain; -and the spears of the whole imperial army began to bristle over the -hills. - -The trumpets of the French sounded as their enemies appeared; and it -seemed that the emperor was not a little surprised to find his -adversary so well prepared to meet him. - -Whether the unexpected sight of so large a body of troops drawn up to -oppose them embarrassed the confederates and deranged their plans, or -whether Philip's first line covering the bridge they did not perceive -that a great part of his forces were still either on the other side of -the river, or engaged in repassing it, cannot now be told; but they -took no advantage of so favourable a moment for attack. The body -engaged with the rear of Philip's army was called back; and wheeling -to the right of the road by which they came, they took up their -position on the slope of the hills to the north of the plain, while -Philip eagerly seized the opportunity of displaying his forces on the -southern side, thus having the eyes of his soldiers turned away from -the burning sun, that shone full in the faces of the adverse host. An -army commanded by many chiefs, is of course never well led; for what -may be gained by consultation is ever lost by indecision; and the two -great faults thus committed by the confederates were probably owing to -the uncertainty of their councils. - -However that might be, they suffered Philip greatly to recover the -unity of his forces, and to take up the best position on the field; -after which succeeded a pause, as if they hesitated to begin the -strife, though theirs had been the party to follow and to urge their -enemy to a battle, and though they had overtaken him at the precise -moment which they had themselves planned, and in which an attack must -have proved the most disastrous. - - - - -CHAPTER XIII. - - -For several minutes after the two armies were thus ranged opposite -each other, both stood without motion, gazing on the adverse host. The -front line was composed almost entirely of cavalry, which formed in -those days the great strength of an army, and uniformly decided the -event of a battle; but between the long battalions of the knights and -men-at-arms were ranged close bodies of cross-bowmen and archers, who -waited but a signal to commence the engagement with their missiles. - -Standing thus face to face, with but a narrow space between them, the -two hosts seemed as if contemplating the glittering array of the -field, which, if we may believe the "_branch of royal lineages_," -offered on either part as splendid a pageant as ever a royal court -exhibited on fête or tournament. "There," it says in its naif jargon, -"you might see many a pleasant coat of arms, and many a neat and -gentle device, tissued of gold and various shining colours, blue, -vermilion, yellow, and green. There were to be seen serried shields, -and neighing horses, and ringing arms, pennons and banners, and helms -and glittering crests." - -To the left of the imperial army appeared Ferrand, Count of Flanders, -with an immense host of hardy Flemings, together with the Count de -Boulogne and several other of the minor confederates; while, opposed -to him, was the young Duke of Champagne, the Duke of Burgundy, and the -men of the commune of Soissons. To the right of the imperial army was -a small body of English, with the Duke of Brabant and his forces in -face of the Comte de Dreux, the Bishop of Beauvais, and a body of the -troops of the clergy; while in the centre of each host, and -conspicuous to both, were Otho, Emperor of Germany, and Philip -Augustus of France, commanding in person the chosen knights of either -monarchy. - -In the midst of the dark square of lances that surrounded the emperor -was to be seen a splendid car, from the centre of which rose a tall -pole, bearing on the top the imperial standard, a golden eagle -hovering above a dragon; while, beside Philip Augustus, was borne the -royal banner of France,[29] consisting of an azure field embroidered -with fleurs de lis of gold. On either hand of the king were ranged the -knights selected to attend his person, whom we find named as William -des Barres, Barthelmy de Roye, Peter de Malvoisin, Gerard Scropha, -Steven of Longchamp, William of Mortemar, John of Rouvrai, William de -Garlande, and Henry, Count de Bar, all men distinguished in arms, and -chosen for their high and chivalrous qualities. - - --------------------- - -[Footnote 29: A different banner from the famous oriflamme which was -the standard of St. Denis.] - --------------------- - - -A dead silence pervaded the field. Each host, as we have said, gazed -upon the other, still and motionless, waiting in awful expectation the -first movement which should begin the horrid scene of carnage about to -follow. It wanted but a word--a sign--the levelling of a lance--the -sounding of a trumpet, to cast the whole dark mass of bloodthirsty -insects there assembled into strife and mutual destruction: but yet -there was a pause; as if each monarch felt the dreadful responsibility -which that signal would bring upon his head, and hesitated to give it. -Some reflections of the kind certainly passed through the mind of -Philip Augustus; for, turning to William de Mortemar, he said, "We -must begin the fight--I seek not their blood, but God gives us a right -to defend ourselves. They have leagued to crush me, and the carnage of -this day be upon their head. Where is the oriflamme?" he continued, -looking round for the consecrated banner of St. Denis. - -"It has not yet repassed the river, sire," replied Gerard Scropha. "I -heard the tramp of the communes still coming over the bridge, and -filling up the ranks behind. The oriflamme was the first banner that -passed, and therefore of course will be the last that returns. - -"We must not wait for it then," said the king. "Henry de Bar, speed to -Guerin, who is on the right, with the Count de St. Paul; bid them -begin the battle by throwing in a few men-at-arms to shake that heavy -line of the Flemings. Then let the knights charge." - -The young count bowed low, and set spurs to his horse; but his very -passage along the line was a signal for the confederates to commence -the fight. A flight of arrows and quarrels instantly darkened the sky, -and fell thick as hail amongst the ranks of the French; the trumpets -sounded, the lances were levelled, and two of the king's chaplains, -who were placed at a little distance behind him, began to sing the -hundred and forty-third Psalm, while the tears rolled plentifully from -their eyes, from the effects of mingled fear, agitation, and devotion. - -In the meanwhile, an hundred and fifty sergeants of arms charged the -whole force of the Count of Flanders, according to the order of the -king. His intention was completely fulfilled.[30] Dropping the points -of their lances, the French men-at-arms cast themselves into the midst -of the Flemish knights, who, indignant at being attacked by men who -had not received the honours of chivalry, fell upon them furiously, -with little regard to their own good order. - - --------------------- - -[Footnote 30: Lacurne de St. Palaye was decidedly wrong in attributing -the use of the lance solely to knights. Besides the example before -given, the present instance of the serjeants of Soissons puts the -matter beyond doubt. The words of Guillaume Guiart are-- - - "Serjanz d'armes cent et cinquante. - Criant Monjoie! ensemble brochent; - Vers les rens des Flamens deseochent - Les pointes des lances enclines," &c. - -That the serjeants of arms of Soissons were simple burghers is evident -from the contempt with which the Flemish knights received them--Guil. -le Breton, in vit. Phil. Aug.] - --------------------- - - -In an instant, the horses of the French men-at-arms were all slain; -but being men of the commune of Soissons, trained to fight on foot as -well as on horseback, they prolonged the fight hand to hand with the -enemy's knights, and completely succeeded in throwing the centre of -the imperial left wing into disarray. At that moment, the battalion of -knights, under the Count de St. Paul, charged in support of the -men-at-arms, and with their long lances levelled in line swept all -before them, cleaving through the host of Flemings, and scattering -them abroad upon the plain, as a thunderbolt strikes a pine, and rends -it into atoms. - -The strife, thus begun upon the right wing of the royal army, soon -communicated itself to the centre; where, on a small mound sat Philip -Augustus, viewing with a calm observing eye the progress of the -battle, though gradually the dust and steam of the fight, and the -confused groups of the combatants, falling every moment into greater -disorder, would have confounded a less keen and experienced glance -than his. - -Though the left was now also engaged, the monarch's eye principally -rested upon the right wing of his forces, where the Count of St. Paul, -the Dukes of Burgundy and Champagne, were still struggling hard with -the Flemings, whose second and third line, having come up, had turned -the fortune of the day, and were driving back the French towards the -river. - -"By the Lord of Heaven! Burgundy is down!" cried Philip. "Ho, Michael, -gallop to Sir Guy de Coucy; tell him to charge with the men of -Tankerville, to support the good Duke of Burgundy! Away!" - -The sergeant to whom he spoke galloped off like lightning to the spot -where De Coucy was placed as a reserve. - -"By Heaven! the duke is down, and his banner too!" continued the king, -turning to Guerin, who now had joined him. "De Coucy moves not yet. -St. Denis to boot! they will turn our flank. Is the knight a coward or -mad?--Away, Guerin! Bid him charge for his honour." - -But the king saw not what De Coucy saw, that a fresh corps of the -confederates was debouching from the road behind the imperial army. If -he attacked the Flemings before this body had advanced, he not only -left his own rear unguarded, but the flank of the whole army totally -exposed. He paused, therefore notwithstanding the critical situation -of the Duke of Burgundy, till such time as this fresh body had, in the -hurry and confusion of their arrival, advanced between him and the -Flemings. - -Then, however, the fifteen hundred lances he commanded were levelled -in an instant: the trumpets sounded, the chargers sprang forward, and, -hurled like an avalanche against the flank of this newly arrived -corps, the squadron of De Coucy drove them in pell-mell upon the -Flemings, forced the Flemings themselves back upon the troops of the -emperor, and left a clear space for the soldiers of Burgundy and -Champagne, to rally round their chiefs. - -"Brave De Coucy!" cried the king, who had marked the man[oe]uvre. "Good -knight! Stout lance! All goes down before him. Burgundy is up. His -banner waves again. Ride, Walter the young, and compliment the duke -for me. Who are these coming down? I cannot see for the dust." - -"They are the burgesses of Compiègne and Abbeville, and the oriflamme, -sire," replied Guillaume des Barres. "They want a taste of the fight, -and are forcing themselves in between us and those Saxon serfs, who -are advancing straight towards us." - -As he spoke the men of the communes, eager to signalise themselves in -the service of a king who had done so much for them, marched boldly -into the very front of the battle, and mingled hand to hand with an -immense body of German infantry that were approaching rapidly towards -the king. - -The French communes, however, were inferior to the burly Saxons, both -in number and in strength; and were, after an obstinate fight, driven -back to the very foot of the mound on which Philip was placed. The -knights and men-at-arms who surrounded him, seeing the battle so near -the monarch's person, charged through the ranks of the burgesses, and, -mingling with the Saxon infantry, cut them down in all directions with -their long heavy swords. The German cavalry again spurred forward to -support their own communes; and the fight became general around the -immediate person of the monarch, who remained on the summit of the -hillock, with no one but the Count de Montigny, bearing his standard, -and Sir Stephen of Longchamp, who had refrained from following the -rest into the melée. - -"For God's sake! sire, retire a little!" said the knight: "if you are -hurt, all is lost." - -"Not a step, for a thousand empires!" replied the king, drawing down -his visor and unsheathing his sword, as he beheld three or four German -knights spurring towards him at full career, followed by a large troop -of footmen, contending with the burghers of Compiègne. "We must do our -devoir as a knight as well as a king, Sir Stephen." - -"Mine then as a knight!" cried Stephen of Longchamp, laying his lance -in rest; and on he galloped at the foremost of the German knights, -whom he hurled dead from his horse, pierced from side to side with the -iron of the spear. - -The German that followed, however, without, spending a blow on the -French knight's casque, plunged his sword in his horse's chest, at a -spot where the iron barding was wanting. Rider and horse went down at -once; and the German, springing to the ground, drew a long knife from -his side, and knelt upon his prostrate adversary's chest. - -"Denis Mountjoy!" cried the king, galloping on to the aid of his -faithful follower. "Denis Mountjoy! _au secours!_" But before he could -arrive, the German knight had plunged his knife through the bars of -the fallen man's helmet, and Stephen Longchamp was no more. The -monarch avenged him, however, if he could not save; and, as the -Saxon's head was bent down, accomplishing his bloody purpose, he -struck him so fierce a blow on the back of his neck, with the full -sway of a vigorous and practised arm, that the hood of his mail shirt -yielded at once to the blow, and the edge of the weapon drove on -through the backbone. - -At that moment, however, the king found himself surrounded on every -side by the German foot, who hemmed him in with their short pikes. The -only knight who was near him was the Count de Montigny, bearing the -royal banner; and nothing was to be seen around but the fierce faces -of the Saxon pikemen looking out from under their steel caps, drawing -their circle closer and closer round him, and fixing their eager eyes -upon the crown that he wore on the crest of his helmet--or else the -forms of some German knights at a short distance, whirling about like -armed phantoms, through the clouds of dust that enveloped the whole -scene. - -Still Philip fought with desperate valour, plunging his horse into the -ranks of the pikemen, and dealing sweeping blows around with his -sword, which four or five times succeeded in clearing the space -immediately before him. - -Well and nobly too did the Count de Montigny do his devoir, holding -with one hand the royal banner, which he raised and depressed -continually, to give notice to all eyes of the monarch's danger, and -striking with the other on every side round Philip's person, which he -thus protected for many minutes from the near approach of his enemies. - -It was in vain, however, that the king and his banner-bearer displayed -such feats of chivalrous valour. Closer and closer the German -burgesses hemmed them in. Many of the Saxon knights became attracted -by the sight of the royal banner, and were urging their horses through -the melée towards the spot where the conflict was raging so fiercely, -when one of the serfs crept close to the king's charger. Philip felt -his horse reeling underneath him; and, in a moment, the animal fell to -the ground, bearing its rider down along with it. - -A hundred of the long, three-edged knives, with which many of the -Saxons fought that day, were instantly at the King's throat, and at -the bars of his helmet. One thought of Agnes--one brief prayer to -Heaven, was all that seemed allowed to Philip Augustus; but that -moment, the shout of "Auvergne! Auvergne!" rang upon his ear and -yielded hope. - -With his head bent down to his saddle-bow, receiving a thousand blows -as he came, his horse all in foam and blood, his armour hacked, -dented, and broken, Thibalt d'Auvergne clove the hostile press with -the fierce rapidity of a falcon in its stoop. He checked his horse but -by the royal banner; he sprang to the ground; dashed, weltering to the -earth, the boors who were kneeling on the prostrate body of the king, -and, striding over it, whirled his immense mace round his head, at -every blow sending the soul of some Saxon on the cold pilgrimage of -death. The burgesses reeled back; but at the same time the knights who -had been advancing, hurled themselves upon the Count d'Auvergne, and -heaped blow upon blow on his head. - -The safety of the whole host--the life and death, or captivity of the -king--the destiny of all Europe--perhaps of all the world, depended at -that moment on the arm of a madman. But that arm bore it all nobly up; -and, though his armour was actually hewn from his flesh, and he -himself bleeding from an hundred wounds, he wavered not a step; but, -still striding over the body of the king, as he lay unable to rise, -from the weight of his horse resting on his thigh, maintained his -ground till, knight after knight arriving on both sides, the combat -became more equal. - -Still the fight around the royal banner was doubtful, when the -battle-cry of De Coucy was heard approaching. "A Coucy! A Coucy! St. -Michael! St. Michael!" rang over the plain; and the long lances of -Tankerville, which had twice completely traversed and retraversed the -enemy's line,[31] were seen sweeping on, in unbroken masses, like a -thunder-cloud advancing over the heaven. The regular order they had -still preserved, as well as their admirable training, and confidence -in their leader, gave them vast superiority. The German pikemen were -trampled under their tread. The knights were forced back at the point -of the spear; the communes of Compiègne and Abbeville rallied behind -them, and, in a short time, the field around the royal banner was once -more clear of all enemies. - - --------------------- - -[Footnote 31: This circumstance, however extraordinary, is not the -less true; and though attributed by the various chroniclers to various -persons, is mentioned particularly by all who have described the -battle of Bovines.] - --------------------- - - -The first thing was to free the king from the weight of his horse, -which had been stabbed in the neck, and was now quite dead. The -monarch rose; but, before he remounted, though there were a thousand -horses held ready for him, and a thousand voices pressing him to -mount, he exclaimed, "Where is the Count d'Auvergne? I owe him -life.--Stand back, Guillaume des Barres! your foot is on his chest. -That is he in the black armour!" - -It was indeed the unhappy Count d'Auvergne, who had borne up under a -multitude of wounds, till the life of the king was in safety. He had -then fallen in the melée, striking still, and lay upon a heap of dead -that his hand had made. By the king's order, his casque was instantly -unlaced; and Philip himself, kneeling beside him, raised his head upon -his knee, and gazed in the ashy face to see if the flame of life's -frail lamp was extinct indeed in the breast of him who had saved him -from the tomb. - -D'Auvergne opened his eyes, and looked faintly in the face of the -monarch. His lips moved, but no sound issued from them. - -"If thou diest, Auvergne," said Philip, in the fulness of his -gratitude, "I have lost my best subject." - -The count made another effort to speak. The king stooped over him, and -inclined his ear. "Tell her," said the broken accents of the dying -man,--"tell her--that for her love--I died--to save your life." - -"I will," said Philip Augustus!--"on my faith, I will! and I know her -not, or she will weep your fall." - -There was something like a faint smile played round the dying knight's -lip; his eyes fixed upon the king, and the spirit that lighted them -passed away for ever! - -"Farewell, Auvergne!" said the king. "Des Barres, see his body removed -and honoured. And now, good knights," cried he, springing on -horseback, "how fares the fight? My eyes have been absent too long. -But, by my faith! you have worked well while I was down. The enemy's -left is flying, or my sight deceives me." - -"'Tis true, my lord;--'tis true!" replied Guillaume des Barres; "and -Ferrand of Flanders himself is taken by the Duke of Burgundy." - -"Thank God for that!" cried Philip, and he turned his eyes quickly to -the centre. "They seem in strange confusion there. Where is the -imperial standard? Where is Otho himself?" - -"Otho has to do with Peter of Malvoisin and Gerard the Sow," replied -William des Barres, laughing, "and finds them unpleasant neighbours -doubtless. But do you know, sire, that a pike head is sticking in your -cuirass?" - -"Mind not that!" cried the king; "Let us charge! Otho's ranks are -broken; his men dispersed; one gallant charge, and the day is ours. -Down with your lances, De Coucy! Men of Soissons, follow the king! -knights, remember your own renown! Burghers, fight for your firesides! -Denis Mountjoy! Upon them! Charge!" - -It was the critical moment. Otho might have rallied; and his forces -were still more than double those of the king; while the Count de -Boulogne and the English, though the Earl of Salisbury had been dashed -from his horse by the mace of the bellicose Bishop of Beauvais, -were still maintaining the fight to the left. The well-timed and -well-executed charge of the king, however, accompanied, as he was, by -the choice chivalry of his realm, who had gathered about him to his -rescue, decided the fate of the day. The Germans fled in confusion. -Otho himself narrowly escaped being taken; and though a part of the -right wing of the confederates retreated in somewhat better array, yet -the defeat even there was complete, and the Earl of Salisbury and the -Count de Boulogne were both made prisoners. - -For nearly six hours the combat lasted; and, when at last the flight -was complete, the number of prisoners was so great, that Philip dared -not allow his troops to pursue the fugitives for any length of way, -lest he should be mastered at last by those he had just conquered. - -At five o'clock the trumpets sounded to the standard to recall the -pursuers; and thus ended the famous battle of Bovines--a strife and a -victory scarcely paralleled in history. - - - - -CHAPTER XIV. - - -The hurry and confusion of the battle was over; order was greatly -restored; and the victorious army had encamped on the banks of the -river, when Philip Augustus retired to his own tent; and, after having -been disarmed by his attendants, commanded that they should leave -him alone for an hour. No one was permitted to approach; and the -monarch sat down to meditate over the vast and mighty deed he had -accomplished. - -Oh, what a whirlpool of contending feelings must have been within his -bosom at that moment! Policy, triumph, ambition, hate, revenge, and -love, each claimed their place in his heart. - -The recollection of the difficulties he had overcome; the fresh memory -of the agitating day in which he had overcome them; the glorious -prospects yet to come--the past, the present, and the future, raised -their voices together, and, with a sound like thunder, called to him, -"Rejoice!" - -But Philip Augustus sat with his hands clasped over his eyes, in deep -and even melancholy thought. A feeling of his mortality mingled, he -knew not why or how, even with the exultation of his victory. To his -mind's eye, a shadow, as if from the tomb, was cast over the banner of -his triumph. A feeling of man's transitory littleness,--a yearning -after some more substantial glory, chastened the pride of the -conqueror; and, bending the knee before Heaven's throne, he prayed -fervently to the Giver of all victory. - -After long, deep thought, he recalled his attendants; received several -messengers that had come on from Lille; and, ordering the hangings of -his tent to be drawn up, he commanded the various chieftains who had -distinguished themselves in that day's conflict to be called around -him. - -It was a beautiful summer evening; and the rays of the declining sun -shone over the field of battle, into the tent of the victor, as he sat -surrounded by all the pomp of royalty, receiving the greatest and -noblest of his land. For each he had some gratulatory word, some -mention of their deeds, some praise of their exertions; and there was -a tempered moderation in his smile, a calm, grave dignity of aspect, -that relieved his greater barons from the fears which even they, who -had aided to win it, could not help feeling, respecting the height to -which such a victory might carry his ambition. There was not a touch -of pride in his deportment--no, not even of the humility with which -pride is sometimes fond to deck itself. It was evident that he knew he -had won a great battle, and rejoiced--that he had vanquished his -enemies--that he had conquered a confederated world;--but yet he never -felt himself more mortal, or less fancied himself kindred to a god. He -had triumphed in anticipation--the arrogance of victory had exhausted -itself in expectation; and he found it not so great a thing to have -overcome an universe as he had expected. - -"Thanks, brave Burgundy! thanks!" cried he, grasping the hand of the -duke, as he approached him. "We have won a great triumph; and Burgundy -has fully done his part. By my faith! Lord Bishop of Beauvais, thy -mace is as good a weapon as thy crosier. I trust thou mayest often -find texts in Scripture to justify thy so smiting the king's enemies." - -"I spill no blood, sire," replied the warlike bishop: "to knock on the -head, is not to spill blood, let it be remarked." - -"We have, at all events, with thine aid, my Lord of Beauvais," said -the king, smiling at the prelate's nice distinction,--"we have, at all -events, knocked on the head a great and foul confederation against our -peace and liberties.--Ha! my young Lord of Champagne! Valiantly hast -thou won thy knighthood.--Guillaume des Barres, thou art a better -knight than any of the round table; and to mend thy cellarage, I give -thee five hundred acres in my valley of Soissons. And Pierre de Dreux, -too, art thou, for once in thy life, satisfied with hard blows? De -Coucy, my noble De Coucy! to whom I did some wrong before the battle. -As thou hast said thyself, De Coucy, God send me ever such traitors as -thou art! However, I have news for thee, will make thee amends for one -hard word. Welcome, St. Valery!--as welcome as when you came to my -succour this fair morning. Now, lords, we will see the prisoners--not -to triumph over them, but that they may know their fate." - -According to the king's commands, the several prisoners of high rank, -who had been taken that morning, were now brought before him; a part -of the ceremony to which even his own barons looked with some doubt -and anxiety, as well as the captives themselves; for, amongst those -who had fought on the other side, were many who were not only traitors -to the king, inasmuch as violating their oath of homage rendered them -so--but traitors under circumstances of high aggravation, after -repeated pardon and many a personal favour; yet who were also linked, -by the nearest ties of kindred, to those in whose presence they now -stood as prisoners. The first that appeared was the Earl of Salisbury, -who, in the fear caused by the number of prisoners, had been bound -with strong cords, and was still in that condition when brought before -the king. - -"I am sorry to see you here, William of Salisbury," said Philip -frankly. "But why those cords upon your hands? Who has dared, so -unworthily, to bind a noble knight? Off with them! quick! Will you not -yield yourself a true prisoner? - -"With all my heart, sir king," replied the earl, "since I may no -better. The knaves tied me, I fancy, lest the prisoners should eat up -their conquerors. But, by my faith! had the cowardly scum who have run -from the field, but fought like even your gownsmen, we should have won -few prisoners, but some glory." - -"For form's sake, we must have some one to be hostage for your faith," -said the king, "and then good knight, you shall have as much liberty -as a prisoner may.--Who will be William of Salisbury's surety?" - -"That will I," said De Coucy, stepping forward. "In life and lands, -though I have but little of the last." - -"Thank thee, old friend," said the earl, grasping his hand. "We fought -in different parts of the field, or we would have tried some of our -old blows; but 'tis well as it is, though 'twas a bishop, they tell -me, knocked me on the head. I saw him not, in faith, or I would have -split his mitre for his pains." - -Prisoner after prisoner was now brought before the king, to most of -whom he spoke in a tone to allay their fears. On Ferrand of Flanders, -however, he bent his brows, strongly moved with indignation, when he -remembered the presumptuous vaunting of that vain light prince, who -had boasted that, within a month, he would ride triumphant into Paris. - -"Now, rebellious vassal," said the monarch with severe dignity of -aspect, "what fate does thy treason deserve? Snake, thou hast stung us -for fostering thee in our bosom, and the pleasures of Paris, shown to -thee in the hospitality of our court, have made thee covet the -heritage of thy lord. As thou hast boasted, so shall it befall thee; -and thou shalt ride in triumph into our capital; but, by heaven's -queen! it shall not be to sport with jugglers and courtesans!" - -Ferrand turned deadly pale, in his already excited fears, -misconstruing the king's words. "I hope, my lord," said he, "that you -will think well before you strike at my life. Remember, I am but your -vassal for these lands of Flanders, in right of my wife--that I am the -son of an independent monarch, and my life may not----" - -"Thy life!" cried Philip, his lip curling with scorn,--"Fear not for -thy pitiful life! Get thee gone! I butcher not my prisoners; but, by -the Lord! I will take good care that ye rebel not again! Now, Renault -of Boulogne," he continued, turning to the gigantic count of Boulogne, -who, of all the confederates, had fought the longest and most -desperately, entertaining no hope of life if taken, both from being -one of the chief instigators of the confederacy, and from many an old -score of rebellion not yet wiped off between himself and the king. He -appeared before the monarch, however, with a frank smile upon his -jovial countenance, as if prepared to endure with good humour the -worst that could befall; and seeing that, as a kind of trophy, one of -the pages bore in his enormous casque, on the crest of which he had -worn two of the broad blades of whalebone, near six feet high, he -turned laughing to those around, while the king spoke to Ferrand of -Flanders--"Good faith," said he, "I thought myself a leviathan, but -they have managed to catch me notwithstanding." - -"Now, Renault of Boulogne," said the king sternly--"how often have I -pardoned thee--canst thou tell?" - -"Faith, my lord!" replied the count, "I never was good at reckoning; -but this I do know, that you have granted me my life oftener than I -either deserved or expected, though I cannot calculate justly how -often." - -"When you do calculate, then," said Philip, "add another time to the -list; but, remember, by the bones of all the saints! it is the last!" - -"Faith! my lord, you shall not break their bones for me," replied the -count. "For I have made a resolution to be your good vassal for the -future; and, as my good friend Count Julian of the Mount says, my -resolutions are as immoveable as the centre." - -"Ha, Count Julian!" said the king. "You are welcome, fair count; and, -by Heaven, we have a mind to deal hardly with you. You have been a -comer and goer, sir, in all these errands. You have been one of the -chief stirrers-up of my vassals against me; and by the Lord! if block -and axe were ever well won, you have worked for them. However, here -stands sir Guy de Coucy, true knight, and the king's friend; give him -the hand of your daughter, his lady-love, and you save your head upon -your shoulders." - -"My lord, it cannot be," replied old sir Julian stoutly. "I have -already given the knight his answer. What I have said, is said--my -resolutions are as immoveable as the centre, and I'd sooner encounter -the axe than break them." - -"Then, by Heaven! the axe shall be your doom!" cried Philip, giving -way to one of his quick bursts of passion, at the bold and obstinate -tone in which his rebellious vassal dared to address him. "Away with -him to the block! and know, old mover of rebellions, that your lands -and lordships, and your daughter's hand, I, as your sovereign lord, -will give to this brave knight, after you have suffered the punishment -of your treason and your obstinacy." - -Sir Julian's cheek turned somewhat pale, and his eye twinkled; but he -merely bit his lip; and, firm in his impenetrable obstinacy, offered -no word to turn aside the monarch's wrath. De Coucy, however, stepped -forward, and prayed the king, as sir Julian had been taken by his own -men, to give him over to him, when he doubted not he would be able to -bring him to reason. - -"Take him then, De Coucy," said Philip; "I give you power to make what -terms with him you like; but before he quits this presence, he -consents to his daughter's marriage with you, or he quits it for the -block. Let us hear how you will convert him." - -"What I have said, is said!" muttered sir Julian,--"my resolutions are -as immoveable as the centre!" - -"Sir Julian," said De Coucy, standing forward before the circle, while -the prisoner made up his face to a look of sturdy obstinacy, that -would have done honour to an old, well-seasoned mule, "you told me -once, that I might claim your daughter's hand, if ever--Guillaume de -la Roche Guyon, to whom you had promised her, being dead--you should -be fairly my prisoner, and I could measure acre for acre with your -land. Now, I have to tell you, that William de la Roche fell on -yonder plain, pierced from the back to the front by one of the lances -of Tankerville, as he was flying from the field. You are, by the -king's bounty and my good fortune, my true and lawful prisoner; and -surely the power of saving your life, and giving you freedom, may be -reckoned against wealth and land." - -"No, no!" said sir Julian. "What I have said----" - -But he was interrupted by the king, who had recovered from the first -heat into which sir Julian's obstinacy had cast him, and was now -rather amused than otherwise with the scene before him. "Hold, count -Julian!" cried he, "Do not make any objection yet. The only difficulty -is about the lands, it seems--that we will soon remove." - -"Oh, that alters the case," cried count Julian, not sorry in his heart -to be relieved from the painful necessity of maintaining his -resolution at the risk of his life. "If you, sire, in your bounty, -choose to make him my equal in wealth--William de la Roche Guyon -being dead, and I being his prisoner,--all the conditions will be -fulfilled, and he shall have my daughter. What I have said is as firm -as fate." - -"Well then," replied the king, glancing his eye towards the barons, -who stood round, smiling at the old knight's mania, "we will not only -make De Coucy your equal in wealth, sir Julian, but far your superior. -A court of peers, lords!--a court of peers! Let my peers stand -around." - -Such of the spectators as were by right peers of France, advanced a -step from the other persons of the circle, and the king proceeded. - -"Count Julian of the Mount!" said he in a stern voice, "We, Philip -the Second, king of France, with the aid and counsel of our peers, do -pronounce you guilty of _leze majesté_; and do declare all your feofs, -lands, and lordships, wealth, furniture, and jewels, forfeited and -confiscate to the Crown of France, to use and dispose thereof, as -shall be deemed expedient!" - -"A judgment! a judgment!" cried the peers while the countenance of -poor Count Julian fell a thousand degrees. "Now, sir," continued the -king, "without a foot of land in Europe, and without a besant to bless -yourself,--William de la Roche Guyon being dead, and you that good -knight's prisoner,--we call upon you to fulfil your word to him, and -consent to his marriage with your daughter, Isadore, on pain of being -held false and mansworn, as well as stubborn and mulish." - -"What I have said is said!" replied count Julian, putting forth his -wonted proposition in a very crest-fallen tone. "My resolutions are -always as firm as the centre.--De Coucy, I promised her to you, under -such circumstances. They are fulfilled, and she is your's--though it -is hard that I must marry my daughter to a beggar. - -"Beggar, sir!" cried the king, his brow darkening again; "let me tell -you, that though rich enough in worth and valour alone to match the -daughter of a prince, sir Guy de Coucy, as he stands there, possesses -double in lands and lordships what you have ever possessed. De Coucy, -it is true: the lands and lordships of Tankerville, and all those fair -domains upon the banks of the broad Rhone, possessed by the Count of -Tankerville, who wedded your father's sister, are now yours, by a -charter in our royal treasury, made under his hand, some ten years -ago, and warranted by our consent. We have ourself, pressed by the -necessities of the state, taken for the last year the revenue of those -lands, purposing to make restitution--to you, if it should appear that -the count was really dead--to him, if he returned from Palestine, -whither he was said to have gone. But we find ourself justified by an -unexpected event. We acted in this by the counsel of the wise and -excellent hermit of Vincennes, now a saint in God's paradise: and we -have just learned, that the count de Tankerville himself it was who -died ten days ago in the person of that same Bernard, the anchorite of -Vincennes. He had lived there in that holy disguise for many years; -and it was so long since we had seen him, the change in his person, by -fasts and macerations, was so great, and his appearance as a hermit -altogether so different from what it was as the splendid Count of -Tankerville, that, though not liable to forget the faces we have seen, -in his case we were totally deceived. On his death-bed he wrote to us -this letter, full of pious instruction and good counsel. At the same -time, he makes us the unnecessary prayer of loving and protecting you. -You, therefore, wed the proud old man's daughter, far his superior in -every gift of fortune; and, as some punishment to his vanity and -stubbornness, we endow you and your heirs with all those feofs that he -has justly forfeited, leaving you to make what provision for his age -you yourself may think fit." - -Count Julian hung his head; but here let it be said, that he had never -any cause to regret that the king had cast his fortunes into such a -hand; for De Coucy was one of those whose hearts, nobly formed, expand -rather than contract under the sunshine of fortune. - - - - -CHAPTER XV. - - -Six days had elapsed after the scenes we have described in our two -last chapters, and Philip Augustus had taken all measures to secure -the fruits of his victory, when, at the head of a gay party of knights -and attendants, no longer burdened with warlike armour, but garmented -in the light and easy robes of peace, the conquering monarch spurred -along the banks of the Oise, anxious to make Agnes a sharer of his -joy, and to tell her that, though the crafty policy of Rome still -prolonged the question of his divorce, he was now armed with power to -dictate what terms he pleased, and to bring her enemies to her feet. - -The six months had now more than expired, during which he had -consented not to see her; and that absence had given to his love all -that magic light with which memory invests past happiness. The -brightest delight, too, of hope was added to his feelings,--the hope -of seeing joy reblossom on the cheek of her he loved, and the -inspiration of the noblest purpose that can wing human endeavour -carried him on,--the purpose of raising, and comforting, and bestowing -happiness. - -It may easily be believed, then, that the monarch was in one of his -gayest and most gladsome moods; and to De Coucy, who rode by his side, -full of as high hopes and glad anticipations as himself, he ever and -anon poured forth some of the bright feelings that were swelling in -his bosom. - -The young knight, too, hurrying on towards the castle of Rolleboise, -where Isadore, now his own, won by knightly deeds and honourable -effort, still remained, uncertain of her fate--gave way at once more -to the natural liveliness of his disposition; and, living in an age -when Ceremony had not drawn her rigid barrier between the monarch and -his vassal, suffered the high spirits, which for many months had been, -as it were, chained down by circumstance, to shine out in many a quick -sally and cheerful reply. - -The death of his companion in arms, the unhappy Count d'Auvergne, -would indeed throw an occasional shade over De Coucy's mind. But the -regrets which we in the present age experience for the loss of a -friend in such a manner--and which De Coucy was formed to feel as -keenly as any one--in that age met with many alleviations. He had died -knightly in his harness, defending his monarch; he had fallen upon a -whole pile of enemies his hand had slain; he had wrought high deeds, -and won immortal renown. In the eyes of De Coucy, such a death was to -be envied; and thus, though, when he thought of never beholding his -friend again, he felt a touch of natural grief for his own sake; yet, -as he remembered the manner of his fate, he felt proud that his friend -had so finished his career. - -It was a bright July morning, and would have been extremely hot, had -not an occasional cloud skimmed over the sky, and cast a cool though -fleeting shadow upon the earth. One of these had just passed, and had -let fall a few large drops of rain upon them in its course, the glossy -stains of which on his black charger's neck Philip was examining with -the sweet idleness of happiness, when De Coucy called his attention to -a pigeon flying overhead. - -"A carrier pigeon, as I live! my lord!" said the knight. "I have seen -them often in Palestine. Look! there is its roll of paper!" - -"Has any one a falcon?" cried the king, apparently more agitated than -De Coucy expected to see, on so simple an event. "I would give a -thousand besants for a falcon!" - -One of the king's pages, in the train, carried, as was common in those -days even during long journies, a falcon on his wrist; and, hearing -the monarch's exclamation, he, in a moment, unhooded his bird, and -slipped its gesses. Lifting its keen eyes towards the skies, the hawk -spread its wings at once, and towered after the pigeon. - -"Well flown, good youth!" cried the king. "What is thy name?" - -"My name is Hubert," replied the boy, somewhat abashed, "My name is -Hubert, beau sire." - -"Hubert? What, nothing else? Henceforth, then be Hubert de -Fauconpret;" and having sportively given this name to the youth--a -name which descended distinguished to after years, he turned his eyes -towards the falcon, and watched its progress through the sky. "The -bird will miss his stroke, I fear me," said the king, turning towards -De Coucy; and then, seeing some surprise at his anxiety painted on the -young knight's countenance, he added, "That pigeon is from Rolleboise. -I brought the breed from Ascalon. Agnes would not have loosed it -without some weighty cause." - -As he spoke, the falcon towered above the pigeon, struck it, and at a -whistle brought it, trembling and half dead with fear, to the page, -who instantly delivered it from the clutches of its winged enemy, and -gave it into the hands of the king. Philip took the scrap of paper -from the poor bird's neck, caressed it for a moment, and then again -threw it up into the air. At first, it seemed as if it would have -fallen, from the fear which it had undergone, though the well-trained -falcon had not injured it in the least. After a few faint whirls, -however, it gained strength again, rose in a perpendicular line into -the sky, took two or three circles in the air, and then darted off at -once directly towards Paris. - -In the meanwhile, Philip Augustus gazed upon the paper he had thus -received; and, whatever were the contents, they took the colour from -his cheek. Without a word, he struck his horse violently with his -spurs, urged him into a gallop, and, followed by his train as best -they might, drew not in his rein till he stood before the barbican of -the castle of Rolleboise. - -Pale cheeks and anxious eyes encountered his glance, as he dashed over -the drawbridge the moment it was lowered. "The queen?" cried he, "the -queen? How fares the queen?" But, without waiting for a reply, he -sprang to the ground in the court, rushed past the crowd of -attendants, through the hall, up the staircase, and paused not, till -he reached the door of that chamber which he and Agnes had inhabited -during the first months of their union; and in which, from its happy -memories, he knew she would be fond to dwell. There, however, he -stopped, the beating of his heart seeming almost to menace him with -destruction if he took a step farther. - -There was a murmur of voices within; and, after an instant's pause, he -opened the door, and gliding past the tapestry, stood at the end of -the room. - -The chamber was dim, for the night was near; but at the farther -extremity was the faint light of a taper contending with the pale -remains of day. He could see, however, that his marriage-bed was -arrayed like the couch of the dying, that there were priests standing -round in silence, and women in tears; while one lovely girl, whose -face he knew not, knelt by the bed-side, and supported on her arm the -pale and ashy countenance of another, over which the grey shadow of -death seemed advancing fast. - -Philip started forward. Could that be Agnes--that pale, blighted -thing, over whose dim and glassy eyes a strange unlife-like film -was drawn, the precursor of the shroud? Could that be Agnes--the -bright--the beautiful--the beloved? - -A faint exclamation, which broke from the attendants as they beheld -him, reached even the heavy ear of the dying. The film was drawn back -from her eyes for a moment; life blazed up once more, and concentrated -all its parting light in the full, glad, ecstatic gaze which she fixed -upon the countenance of him she loved. A smile of welcome and farewell -hung upon her lip; and, with a last effort, she stretched forth her -arms towards him. With bitter tears, Philip clasped her to his bosom. -Agnes bent down her . . . head upon his neck and died! - -Oh, glory! oh, victory! oh, power! Ye shining emptinesses! Ye bubbles -on the stream of time! - - - -THE END. - - - - - - -LONDON: -Printed by A. 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P. R. (George Payne Rainsford) James"> - -<meta name="Publisher" content="Richard Bentley"> -<meta name="Date" content="1837"> -<meta http-equiv="Content-Type" content="text/html; charset=ISO-8859-1"> -<style type="text/css"> -body {margin-left:10%; - margin-right:10%; background-color:#FFFFFF;} - - -p.normal {text-indent:.25in; text-align: justify;} -.center {margin: auto; text-align:center; margin-top:24pt; margin-bottom:24pt} - - - -p.right {text-align:right; margin-right:20%;} - -p.continue {text-indent: 0in; margin-top:9pt;} -.text10 {margin-top:0px; margin-bottom:0px; margin-left:10%; margin-right:0px; font-size:90%;} -.text20 {margin-top:0px; margin-bottom:0px; margin-left:20%; margin-right:0px; font-size:90%;} - - -.poem0 { - margin-top: 24pt; margin-left: 0%; - margin-right: 0%; text-align: left; - margin-bottom: 24pt; font-size:90%} - -.poem1 { - margin-top: 24pt; margin-left: 2em; - margin-right: 10%; text-align: left; - margin-bottom: 24pt; font-size:90%} - -.poem2 { - margin-top: 24pt; margin-left: 20%; - margin-right: 20%; text-align: left; - margin-bottom: 24pt; font-size:90%} - -.poem3 { - margin-top: 24pt; margin-left: 30%; - margin-right: 30%; text-align: left; - margin-bottom: 24pt; font-size:90%} - - - - - -figcenter {margin:auto; text-align:center; margin-top:9pt;} - -.t0 {margin-top:0px; margin-bottom:0px; margin-left:0em; margin-right:0em;} -.t1 {margin-top:0px; margin-bottom:0px; margin-left:1em; margin-right:0em;} -.t2 {margin-top:0px; margin-bottom:0px; margin-left:2em; margin-right:0em;} -.t3 {margin-top:0px; margin-bottom:0px; margin-left:3em; margin-right:0em;} -.t4 {margin-top:0px; margin-bottom:0px; margin-left:4em; margin-right:0em;} -.t5 {margin-top:0px; margin-bottom:0px; margin-left:5em; margin-right:0em;} - - -.quote {text-indent:.25in; text-align: justify; font-size:90%; margin-top:36pt; margin-bottom:36pt} -.ctrquote {text-align: center; font-size:90%; margin-top:36pt; margin-bottom:36pt} - -.dateline {text-align:right; font-size:90%; margin-right:10%; margin-top:24pt; margin-bottom:24pt} - -h1,h2,h3,h4,h5 {text-align: center;} - -span.sc {font-variant: small-caps; font-size:110%;} -span.sc2 {font-variant: small-caps; font-size:90%;} - -hr.W10 {width:10%; color:black; margin-top:0pt; margin-bottom:0pt} - -hr.W20 {width:20%; color:black; margin-top:12pt; margin-bottom:12pt} - -hr.W50 {width:50%; color:black;} -hr.W90 {width:90%; color:black;} - -p.hang1 {margin-left:3em; text-indent:-3em;} -p.hang2 {margin-left:3em; text-indent:0em;} - - -</style> - -</head> - -<body> - - -<pre> - -Project Gutenberg's Philip Augustus, by George Payne Rainsford James - -This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and most -other parts of the world at no cost and with almost no restrictions -whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms of -the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online at -www.gutenberg.org. If you are not located in the United States, you'll have -to check the laws of the country where you are located before using this ebook. - - - -Title: Philip Augustus - or The Brothers in Arms - -Author: George Payne Rainsford James - -Release Date: November 15, 2015 [EBook #50462] - -Language: English - -Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 - -*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK PHILIP AUGUSTUS *** - - - - -Produced by Charles Bowen from page images provided by Google Books - - - - - -</pre> - - - -<br> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<p class="hang1">Transcriber's Notes:<br> -1. Page scan source: Google Books <br> -Philip Augustus, or, The brothers in arms -by James, G. P. R. (George Payne Rainsford), 1801?-1860<br> -Published 1837<br> -Publisher London: R. Bentley; Edinburgh: Bell and Bradfute<br> -Web Archive: https://archive.org/details/philipaugustusor00jame</p> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<br> - -<h3>STANDARD</h3> - -<h3>NOVELS.</h3> - -<h3>No. LIX.</h3> -<br> -<br> - - -<p class="normal" style="font-size:smaller">"No kind of literature is so generally attractive as Fiction. Pictures -of life and manners, and Stories of adventure, are more eagerly -received by the many than graver productions, however important these -latter maybe. <span class="sc">Apuleius</span> is better remembered by his fable of Cupid and -Psyche than by his abstruser Platonic writings; and the Decameron of -<span class="sc">Boccaccio</span> has outlived the Latin Treatises, and other learned works of -that author."</p> -<br> -<br> - -<hr class="W50"> - -<h3>PHILIP AUGUSTUS.</h3> - -<h4>COMPLETE IN ONE VOLUME.</h4> - -<hr class="W50"> -<br> -<br> - - -<h3>LONDON:</h3> -<h3>RICHARD BENTLEY, NEW BURLINGTON STREET;</h3> -<h4>BELL AND BRADFUTE, EDINBURGH;<br> -J. CUMMING, DUBLIN.</h4> -<h3>1837.</h3> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<h5><span class="sc">London:</span><br> -Printed by A. Spottiswoode,<br> -New-Street-Square.</h5> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<p class="center"> -<img border="0" src="images/philip.png" width="301" height="199" alt="Philip"><br> -Philip Augustus</p> - -<br> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<p class="center"> -<img border="0" src="images/gallon.png" width="173" height="255" alt="Gallon"><br> -Death of Gallon the Jester</p> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<h3>PHILIP AUGUSTUS;</h3> -<br> -<h5>OR,</h5> -<br> -<h4>THE BROTHERS IN ARMS.</h4> -<br> -<br> -<hr class="W20"> -<p style="text-align:center">"Uneasy lies the head that wears a crown."--<span class="sc">Henry IV.</span></p> -<hr class="W20"> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<h4>BY THE AUTHOR OF</h4> -<h3>"DARNLEY," "ATTILA," &c.</h3> -<br> -<br> -<h5>REVISED, CORRECTED, AND ILLUSTRATED WITH NOTES, ETC.<br> -BY THE AUTHOR.</h5> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<hr class="W20"> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<h3>LONDON:</h3> -<h3>RICHARD BENTLEY, NEW BURLINGTON STREET;</h3> -<h4>BELL AND BRADFUTE. EDINBURGH;<br> -J. CUMMING, DUBLIN.</h4> -<h3>1837.</h3> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<h5>TO</h5> -<h3>ROBERT SOUTHEY, ESQ. LL.D.</h3> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<p style="text-indent:2em"><span class="sc">My Dear Sir,</span></p> - -<p class="continue">Were this book even a great deal better than an author's partiality -for his literary offspring can make me believe, I should still have -some hesitation in dedicating it to you, if the fact of your allowing -me to do so implied any thing but your own kindness of heart. I think -now, on reading it again, as I thought twelve months ago when I wrote -it, that it is the best thing that I have yet composed; but were it a -thousand times better in every respect than any thing I ever have or -ever shall produce, it would still, I am conscious, be very unworthy -of your acceptance, and very inferior to what I could wish to offer.</p> -<br> -<p class="normal">Notwithstanding all your present fame, I am convinced that future -years, by adding hourly to the reputation you have already acquired, -will justify my feelings towards your works, and that your writings -will be amongst the few--the very few--which each age in dying -bequeaths to the thousand ages to come.</p> - -<p class="normal">However, it is with no view of giving a borrowed lustre to my book -that I distinguish this page by placing in it your name. Regard, -esteem, and admiration, are surely sufficient motives for seeking to -offer you some tribute, and sufficient apology, though that tribute be -very inferior to the wishes of,</p> -<br> -<p style="text-indent:50%">My dear <span class="sc">Sir</span>,</p> -<p style="text-indent:40%">Your very faithful Servant,</p> - -<p style="text-indent:55%">G. P. R. JAMES. -<br> -<p class="continue">Maxpoffle, near Melrose, Roxburghshire,</p> -<p style="text-indent:15%">May 25, 1831.</p> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<h3>ADVERTISEMENT</h3> -<h5>TO THE</h5> -<h4>NEW EDITION IN THE STANDARD NOVELS.</h4> -<hr class="W20"> -<br> -<br> -<p class="continue">I have little to say regarding this work, which has been received by -the public with so much favour, as to dispense with the necessity of -any apology on the part of the author for the faults that it contains. -Some persons, indeed, have objected to that part of the dedication to -the first edition, in which I stated my belief that Philip Augustus -was the best romance I had at that time written. I cannot, however, -see any presumption in comparing my own works amongst themselves, when -I neither make any reference to those of others, nor seek to bow -public taste to my individual opinion. I am perfectly sensible that -Philip Augustus has many errors; the chief of which, perhaps, is the -slender connection between the two stories which run through the book. -This I have found it utterly impossible to remedy, and I have, -therefore, in this edition, confined my alterations to some verbal -corrections, to the addition of some notes, and to the cutting out of -some heavy poetry which had nothing to do with the story.</p> -<br> -<p style="margin-left:5%">Fair Oak Lodge,<br> -Aug. 15, /1837.</p> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<h3>ADVERTISEMENT</h3> -<h5>TO</h5> -<h4>THE FIRST EDITION.</h4> -<hr class="W20"> -<br> - -<p class="continue">Very few words of preface are necessary to the following work. In -regard to the character of Philip Augustus himself, I have not been -guided by any desire of making him appear greater, or better, or wiser -than he really was. Rigord his physician, William the Breton, his -chaplain, who was present at the battle of Bovines, and various other -annalists comprised in the excellent collection of memoirs published -by Monsieur Guizot, have been my authorities. A different view has -been taken of his life by several writers, inimical to him, either -from belonging to some of the factions of those times, or to hostile -countries; but it is certain, that all who came in close contact with -Philip loved the man, and admired the monarch. All the principal -events here narrated, in regard to that monarch and his queen, are -historical facts, though brought within a shorter space of time than -that which they really occupied. The sketch of King John, and the -scenes in which he was unavoidably introduced, I have made as brief as -possible, under the apprehension of putting my writings in comparison -with something inimitably superior. The picture of the mischievous -idiot, Gallon the Fool, was taken from a character which fell under my -notice for some time in the South of France.</p> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<h3>PHILIP AUGUSTUS.</h3> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<h3>CHAPTER I.</h3> - -<h4>INTRODUCTION.</h4> -<br> - -<p class="continue">Although there is something chilling in that sad, inevitable word, -<i>the past</i>--although in looking through the thronged rolls of history, -and reading of all the dead passions, the fruitless anxieties, the -vain, unproductive yearnings of beings that were once as full of -thrilling life and feeling as ourselves, and now are nothing, we gain -but the cold moral of our own littleness--still the very -indistinctness of the distance softens and beautifies the objects of a -former epoch that we thus look back upon; and in the far retrospect of -the days gone by, a thousand bright and glistening spots stand out, -and catch the last most brilliant rays of a sun that has long set to -the multitude of smaller things around them.</p> - -<p class="normal">To none of these bright points does the light of history lend a more -dazzling lustre than to the twelfth century, when the most brilliant -(if it was not the most perfect) institution of modern Europe, the -feudal system, rose to its highest pitch of splendour; when it -incorporated with itself the noblest Order that ever the enthusiasm of -man (if not his wisdom) conceived--the Order of Chivalry: and when it -undertook an enterprise which, though fanatic in design, faulty in -execution, and encumbered with all the multitude of frailties that -enchain human endeavour, was in itself magnificent and heroic, -and in its consequences grand, useful, and impulsive to the whole of -Europe--the Crusades.</p> - -<p class="normal">The vast expenses, however, which the crusades required--expenses not -only of that yellow dross, the unprofitable representative of earths -real riches, but also expenses of invaluable time, of blood, of -energy, of talent--exhausted and enfeebled every christian realm, and -left, in each, the nerves of internal policy unstrung and weak, with a -lassitude like that which, in the human frame, succeeds to any great -and unaccustomed excitement.</p> - -<p class="normal">Although through all Europe, in that day, the relationships of lord, -vassal, and serf, were the grand divisions of society, yet it was in -France that the feudal system existed in its most perfect form, rising -in gradual progression:--first, serfs, or villains; then vavassors, or -vassals holding of a vassal; then vassals holding of a suzerain, yet -possessing the right of high justice; then suzerains, great -feudatories, holding of the king; and, lastly, the king himself, with -smaller domains than many of his own vassals, but with a general -though limited right and jurisdiction over them all. In a kingdom so -constituted, the crusade, a true feudal enterprise, was, of course, -followed with enthusiasm amounting to madness; and the effects were -the more dreadful, as the absence of each lord implied in general the -absence of all government in his domains.</p> - -<p class="normal">Unnumbered forests then covered the face of France; or, rather, the -whole country presented nothing but one great forest; scattered -through which, occasional patches of cultivated land, rudely tilled by -the serfs of glebe, sufficed for the support of a thin and diminished -population. General police was unthought of; and, though every feudal -chief, within his own territory, exercised that sort of justice which -to him seemed good, too little distinction existed between the -character of robber and judge, for us to suppose that the public -benefited much by the tribunals of the barons. The forests, the -mountains, and the moors, swarmed with plunderers of every -description; and besides the nobles themselves, who very frequently -were professed robbers on the highway, three distinct classes of -banditti existed in France, who, though different in origin, in -manners, and in object, yet agreed wonderfully in the general -principle of pillaging all who were unable to protect themselves.</p> - -<p class="normal">These three classes, the Brabançois, the Cotereaux, and the Routiers, -have, from this general assimilating link, been very often confounded; -and, indeed, on many occasions they are found to have changed name and -profession when occasion served, the same band having been at one -moment Brabançois, and the next Cotereaux, wherever any advantage was -to be gained by the difference of denomination; and also we find that -they ever acted together as friends and allies, where any general -danger threatened their whole community. The Brabançois, however, were -originally very distinct from the Cotereaux, having sprung up from the -various free companies, which the necessities of the time obliged the -monarchs of Europe to employ in their wars. Each vassal, by the feudal -tenure, owed his sovereign but a short period of military service, -and, if personal interest or regard would sometimes lead them to -prolong it, anger or jealousy would as often make them withdraw their -aid at the moment it was most needful. Monarchs found that they must -have men they could command, and the bands of adventurous soldiers, -known by the name of Brabançois<a name="div4Ref_01" href="#div4_01"><sup>[1]</sup></a>, were always found useful -auxiliaries in any time of danger. As long as they were well paid, -they were in general brave, orderly, and obedient; the moment their -pay ceased, they dispersed under their several leaders, ravaged, -pillaged, and consumed, levying on the country in general, that pay -which the limited finances of the sovereign always prevented him from -continuing, except in time of absolute warfare.<a name="div4Ref_02" href="#div4_02"><sup>[2]</sup></a> Still, however, -even in their character of plunderers, they had the dignity of rank -and chivalry, were often led by knights and nobles; and though in the -army they joined the qualities of the mercenary and the robber to -those of the soldier, in the forest and on the moor they often added -somewhat of the frank generosity of the soldier to the rapacity of the -freebooter.</p> - -<p class="normal">The Cotereaux were different in origin--at least, if we may trust -Ducange--springing at first from fugitive serfs, and the scattered -remains of those various bands of revolted peasantry, which, from time -to time, had struggled ineffectually to shake off the oppressive -tyranny of their feudal lords.</p> - -<p class="normal">These joined together in troops of very uncertain numbers, from tens -to thousands, and levied a continual war upon the community they had -abandoned, though, probably, they acted upon no general system, nor -were influenced by any one universal feeling, but the love of plunder, -and the absolute necessity of self-defence.</p> - -<p class="normal">The Routier was the common robber, who either played his single stake, -and hazarded life for life with any one he met, or banded with others, -and shared the trade of the Coterel, with whom he was frequently -confounded, and from whom, indeed, he hardly differed except in -origin.</p> - -<p class="normal">While the forests and wilds of France were thus tenanted by men who -preyed upon their fellows, the castles and the cities were inhabited -by two races, united for the time as lord and serf, but both advancing -rapidly to a point of separation; the lord at the very acme of his -power, with no prospect on any side but decline; the burgher -struggling already for freedom, and growing strong by association.</p> - -<p class="normal">Tyrants ever, and often simple robbers, the feudal chieftains had -lately received a touch of refinement, by their incorporation with the -order of chivalry. Courtesy was joined to valour. Song burst forth, -and gave a voice to fame. The lay of the troubadour bore the tidings -of great actions from clime to clime, and was at once the knight's -ambition and his reward; while the bitter satire of the sirvente, or -the playful apologue of the fabliau, scourged all that was base and -ungenerous, and held up the disloyal and uncourteous to the -all-powerful corrective of public opinion.</p> - -<p class="normal">Something still remains to be said upon the institution of chivalry, -and I can give no better sketch of its history than in the eloquent -words of the commentator on St Palaye.<a name="div4Ref_03" href="#div4_03"><sup>[3]</sup></a></p> - -<p class="normal">"Towards the middle of the tenth century, some poor nobles, united by -the necessity of legitimate defence, and startled by the excesses -certain to follow the multiplicity of sovereign powers, took pity on -the tears and misery of the people. Invoking God and St. George, they -gave each other their hand, plighted themselves to the defence of the -oppressed, and placed the weak under the protection of their sword. -Simple in their dress, austere in their morals, humble after victory, -and firm in misfortune, in a short time they won for themselves -immense renown.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Popular gratitude, in its simple and credulous joy, fed itself with -marvellous tales of their deeds of arms, exalted their valour, and -united in its prayers its generous liberators with even the powers of -Heaven. So natural is it for misfortune to deify those who bring it -consolation.</p> - -<p class="normal">"In those old times, as power was a right, courage was of course a -virtue. These men, to whom was given, in the end, the name of Knights, -carried this virtue to the highest degree. Cowardice was punished -amongst them as an unpardonable crime; falsehood they held in horror; -perfidy and breach of promise they branded with infamy; nor have the -most celebrated legislators of antiquity any thing comparable to their -statutes.</p> - -<p class="normal">"This league of warriors maintained itself for more than a century in -all its pristine simplicity, because the circumstances amidst which it -rose changed but slowly; but when a great political and religious -movement announced the revolution about to take place in the minds of -men, then chivalry took a legal form, and a rank amidst authorised -institutions.</p> - -<p class="normal">"The crusades, and the emancipation of the cities which marked the -apogee of the feudal government, are the two events which most -contributed to the destruction of chivalry. True it is, that then also -it found its greatest splendour; but it lost its virtuous independence -and its simplicity of manners.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Kings soon found all the benefit they might derive from an armed -association which should hold a middle place between the crown and -those too powerful vassals who usurped all its prerogatives. From that -time, kings created knights, and bound them to the throne by all the -forms used in feudal investiture. But the particular character of -those distant times was the pride of privileges; and the crown could -not devise any, without the nobility arrogating to itself the same. -Thus the possessors of the greater feofs hastened to imitate their -monarch. Not only did they create knights, but this title, dear in a -nation's gratitude, became their hereditary privilege. This invasion -stopped not there, lesser chiefs imitated their sovereigns, and -chivalry, losing its ancient unity, became no more than an honourable -distinction, the principles of which, however, had for long a happy -influence upon the fate of the people."</p> - -<p class="normal">Such then was the position of France towards the end of the twelfth -century. A monarch, with limited revenues and curtailed privileges; a -multitude of petty sovereigns, each despotic in his own territories; a -chivalrous and ardent nobility; a population of serfs, just learning -to dream of liberty; a soil rich, but overgrown with forests, and -almost abandoned to itself; an immense body of the inhabitants living -by rapine, and a total want of police and of civil government.</p> - -<p class="normal">The crusade against Saladin was over.--Richard Cœur de Lion was -dead, and Constantinople had just fallen into the hands of a body of -French knights at the time this tale begins. At the same period, John -Lackland held the sceptre of the English kings with a feeble hand, and -a poor and dastardly spirit; while Philip Augustus, with grand views, -but a limited power, sat firmly on the throne of France; and by the -vigorous impulse of a great, though a passionate and irregular mind, -hurried forward his kingdom, and Europe along with it, towards days of -greatness and civilisation, still remote.</p> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<h3>CHAPTER II.</h3> -<br> - -<p class="continue">Seven hundred years ago, the same bright summer sun was shining in his -glory, that now rolls past before my eyes in all the beneficent -majesty of light. It was the month of May, and every thing in nature -seemed to breathe of the fresh buoyancy of youth. There was a light -breeze in the sky, that carried many a swift shadow over mountain, -plain, and wood. There was a springy vigour in the atmosphere, as if -the wind itself were young. The earth was full of flowers, and the -woods full of voice; and song and perfume shared the air between them.</p> - -<p class="normal">Such was the morning when a party of travellers took their way slowly -up the south-eastern side of the famous Monts d'Or in Auvergne. The -road, winding in and out through the immense forest which covered -the base of the hills, now showed, now concealed, the abrupt -mountain-peaks starting out from their thick vesture of wood, and -opposing their cold blue summits to the full blaze of the morning sun. -Sometimes, turning round a sharp angle of the rock, the trees would -break away and leave the eye full room to roam, past the forest -hanging thick upon the edge of the slope, over valleys and hills, and -plains beyond, to the far wanderings of the Allier through the distant -country. Nor did the view end here; for the plains themselves, lying -like a map spread out below, stretched away to the very sky: and even -there, a few faint blue shadows, piled up in the form of peaks and -cones, left the mind uncertain whether the Alps themselves did not -there bound the view, or whether some fantastic clouds did not combine -with that bright deceiver, fancy, to cheat the eye.</p> - -<p class="normal">At other times, the road seemed to plunge into the deepest recesses of -the mountains, passing through the midst of black detached rocks and -tall columns of grey basalt, broken fragments of which lay scattered -on either side; while a thousand shrubs and flowers twined, as in -mockery, over them; and the protruding roots of the large ancient -trees grasped the fallen prisms of the volcanic pillars, as if -vaunting the pride of even vegetable life over the cold, dull, -inanimate stone.</p> - -<p class="normal">Here and there, too, would often rise up on each side high masses of -the mountain, casting all in shadow between them; while the bright -yellow lights which streamed amidst the trees above, spangling the -foliage as if with liquid gold, and the shining of the clear blue sky -overhead, were the only signs of summer that reached the bottom of -the ravine. Then again, breaking out upon a wide green slope, the path -would emerge into the sunshine, or, passing even through the very dew -of the cataract, would partake of the thousand colours of the sunbow -that hung above its fall.</p> - -<p class="normal">It was a scene and a morning like one of those days of unmixed -happiness that sometimes shine in upon the path of youth--so few, and -yet so beautiful. Its very wildness was lovely; and the party of -travellers who wound up the path added to the interest of the scene by -redeeming it from perfect solitude, and linking it to social -existence.</p> - -<p class="normal">The manner of their advance, too, which partook of the forms of a -military procession, made the group in itself picturesque. A single -squire, mounted on a strong bony horse, led the way at about fifty -yards' distance from the rest of the party. He was a tall, powerful -man, of a dark complexion and high features; and from beneath his -thick, arched eyebrow gazed out a full, brilliant, black eye, which -roved incessantly over the scene, and seemed to notice the smallest -object around. He was armed with cuirass and steel cap, sword and -dagger; and yet the different form and rude finishing of his arms did -not admit of their being confounded with those of a knight. The two -who next followed were evidently of a different grade; and, though -both young men, both wore a large cross pendant from their neck, and a -small branch of palm in the bonnet. The one who rode on the right hand -was armed at all points, except his head and arms, in plate armour, -curiously inlaid with gold in a thousand elegant and fanciful -arabesques, the art of perfecting which is said to have been first -discovered at Damascus. The want of his gauntlets and brassards showed -his arms covered with a quilted jacket of crimson silk, called a -gambesoon, and large gloves of thick buff leather. The place of his -casque was supplied by a large brown hood, cut into a long peak -behind, which fell almost to his horse's back; while the folds in -front were drawn round a face which, without being strikingly -handsome, was nevertheless noble and dignified in its expression, -though clouded by a shade of melancholy which had channelled his cheek -with many a deep line, and drawn his brow into a fixed but not a -bitter frown.</p> - -<p class="normal">In form he was, to all appearance, broad made and powerful; but the -steel plates in which he was clothed, of course greatly concealed the -exact proportions of his figure; though withal there was a sort of -easy grace in his carriage, which, almost approaching to negligence, -was but the more conspicuous from the very stiffness of his armour. -His features were aquiline, and had something in them that seemed to -betoken quick and violent passions; and yet such a supposition was at -once contradicted by the calm, still, melancholy of his large dark -eyes.</p> - -<p class="normal">The horse on which the knight rode was a tall, powerful German -stallion, jet black in colour; and though not near so strong as one -which a squire led at a little distance behind, yet, being -unencumbered with panoply itself, it was fully equal to the weight of -its rider, armed as he was.</p> - -<p class="normal">The crusader's companion--for the palm and cross betokened that they -both returned from the Holy Land--formed as strong a contrast as can -well be conceived to the horseman we have just described. He was a -fair, handsome man, round whose broad, high forehead curled a -profusion of rich chestnut hair, which behind, having been suffered to -grow to an extraordinary length, fell down in thick masses upon his -shoulders. His eye was one of those long, full, grey eyes, which, when -fringed with very dark lashes, give a more thoughtful expression to -the countenance than even those of a deeper hue; and such would have -been the case with his, had not its clear powerful glance been -continually at variance with a light, playful turn of his lip, that -seemed full of sportive mockery.</p> - -<p class="normal">His age might be four or five and twenty--perhaps more; for he was of -that complexion that retains long the look of youth, and on which even -cares and toils seem for years to spend themselves in vain:--and yet -it was evident, from the bronzed ruddiness of what was originally a -very fair complexion, that he had suffered long exposure to a burning -sun; while a deep scar on one of his cheeks, though it did not -disfigure him, told that he did not spare his person in the -battle-field.</p> - -<p class="normal">No age or land is, of course, without its foppery; and however -inconsistent such a thing may appear, joined with the ideas of cold -steel and mortal conflicts, no small touch of it was visible in the -apparel of the younger horseman. His person, from the shoulders down -to the middle of his thigh, was covered with a bright haubert, or -shirt of steel rings, which, polished like glass, and lying flat upon -each other, glittered and flashed in the sunshine as if they were -formed of diamonds. On his head he wore a green velvet cap, which -corresponded in colour with the border of his gambesoon, the puckered -silk of which rose above the edge of the shirt of mail, and prevented -the rings from chafing upon his neck. Over this hung a long mantle of -fine cloth of a deep green hue, on the shoulder of which was -embroidered a broad red cross, distinguishing the French crusader. The -hood, which was long and pointed, like his companion's, was thrown -back from his face, and exposed a lining of miniver.</p> - -<p class="normal">The horse he rode was a slight, beautiful Arabian, as white as snow in -every part of his body, except where round his nostrils, and on the -tendons of his pastern and hoof, the white mellowed into a fine pale -pink. To look at his slender limbs, and the bending pliancy of every -step, one would have judged him scarcely able to bear so tall and -powerful a man as his rider, loaded with a covering of steel; but the -proud toss of his head, the snort of his wide nostril, and the -flashing fire of his clear crystal eye, spoke worlds of unexhausted -strength and spirit; though the thick dust, with which the whole party -were covered, evinced that their day's journey had already been long. -Behind each knight, except where the narrowness of the road obliged -them to change the order of their march, one of their squires led a -battle-horse in his right hand; and several others followed, bearing -the various pieces of their offensive and defensive armour.</p> - -<p class="normal">This, however, was to be remarked, that the arms of the -first-mentioned horseman were distributed amongst a great many -persons; one carrying the casque upright on the pommel of the saddle, -another bearing his shield and lance, another his brassards and -gauntlets; while the servants of the second knight, more scanty in -number, were fain to take each upon himself a heavier load.</p> - -<p class="normal">To these immediate attendants succeeded a party of simple grooms -leading various other horses, amongst which were one or two Arabians, -and the whole cavalcade was terminated by a small body of archers.</p> - -<p class="normal">For long, the two knights proceeded silently on their way, sometimes -side by side, sometimes one preceding the other, as the road widened -or diminished in its long tortuous way up the acclivity of the -mountains, but still without exchanging a single word. The one -whom--though there was probably little difference of age--we shall -call the elder, seemed, indeed, too deeply absorbed in his own -thoughts, to desire, or even permit of conversation, and kept his eyes -bent pensively forward on the road before, without even giving a -glance to his companion, whose gaze roamed enchanted over all the -exquisite scenery around, and whose mind seemed fully occupied in -noting all the lovely objects he beheld. From time to time, indeed, -his eye glanced to his brother knight, and a sort of sympathetic shade -came over his brow, as he saw the deep gloom in which he was involved. -Occasionally, too, a sort of movement of impatience seemed to agitate -him, as if there was something that he fain would speak. But then -again the cold unexpecting fixedness of his companion's features -appeared to repel it, and, returning to the view, he more than once -apparently suppressed what was rising to his lips, or only gave it -vent in humming a few lines of some lay, or some sirvente, the words -of which, however, were inaudible. At length what was labouring within -seemed to break through all restraint, and, drawing his rein, he made -his horse pause for an instant, while he exclaimed--</p> - -<p class="normal">"Is it possible. <i>Beau Sire</i> d'Auvergne, that the sight of your own -fair land cannot draw from you a word or a glance?" while, as he -spoke, he made his horse bound forward again, and throwing his left -hand over the whole splendid scene that the opening of the trees -exposed to the sight, he seemed to bid it appeal to the heart of his -companion, and upbraid him with his indifference.</p> - -<p class="normal">The Count d'Auvergne raised his eyes, and let them rest for an instant -on the view to which his companion pointed; then dropped them to his -friend's face, and replied calmly--</p> - -<p class="normal">"Had any one told me, five years ago, that such would be the case, Guy -de Coucy, I would have given him the lie."</p> - -<p class="normal">Guy de Coucy answered nothing directly, but took up his song again, -saying--</p> -<div class="poem1"> - -<p class="t1" style="text-indent:-10px">"He who tells his sorrow, may find<br> -That he sows but the seed of the empty wind;<br> -But he who keeps it within his breast,<br> -Nurses a serpent to gnaw his rest."</p> -</div> - -<p class="normal">"You sing truly, De Coucy, as I have proved too bitterly," replied the -Count d'Auvergne; "but since we have kept companionship together, I -have ever found you gay and happy. Why should I trouble your repose -with sorrows not your own?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"Good faith! fair count, I understand you well," replied the other, -laughing. "You would say that you have ever held me more merry than -wise; more fit to enliven a dull table than listen to a sad tale; a -better companion in brawls or merrymaking than in sorrows or -solemnities; and 'faith you are right, I love them not; and, -therefore, is it not the greatest proof of my friendship, when hating -sorrows as much as man well may, I ask you to impart me yours?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"In truth, it is," answered the Count d'Auvergne; "but yet I will not -load your friendship so, De Coucy. Mine are heavy sorrows, which I -would put upon no man's light heart. However, I have this day given -way to them more than I should do; but it is the very sight of my -native land, beautiful and beloved as it is, which, waking in my -breast the memory of hopes and joys passed away for ever, has made me -less master of myself than I am wont."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Fie now, fie!" cried his friend; "Thibalt d'Auvergne, wouldst thou -make me think the heart of a bold knight as fragile as the egg of a -chaffinch, on which if but a cat sets her paw, it is broken never to -be mended again? Nay, nay! there is consolation even in the heart of -all evils; like the honey that the good knight, Sir Samson, found in -the jaws of the lion which he killed when he was out hunting with the -king of the Saracens."</p> - -<p class="normal">"You mean, when he was going down to the Philistines," said his friend -with a slight smile; though such mistakes were no way rare in those -days; and De Coucy spoke it in somewhat of a jesting tone, as if -laughing himself at the ignorance he assumed.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Be it so, be it so!" proceeded the other. "'Tis all the same. But, as -I said, there is consolation in every evil. Hast thou lost thy dearest -friend in the battle-field? Thank God! that he died knightly in his -harness! Hast thou pawned thy estate to the Jew? Thank God! that thou -may'st curse him to thy heart's content in this world, and feel sure -of his damnation hereafter!" The count smiled; and his friend -proceeded, glad to see that he had won him even for a time from -himself:--"Has thy falcon strayed? Say, 'twas a vile bird and a foul -feeder, and call it a good loss. Has thy lady proved cold? Has thy -mistress betrayed thee. Seek a warmer or a truer, and be happily -deceived again."</p> - -<p class="normal">The colour came and went in the cheek of the Count d'Auvergne; and for -an instant his eyes flashed fire; but reading perfect unconsciousness -of all offence in the clear open countenance of De Coucy, he bit his -lip till his teeth left a deep white dent therein, but remained -silent.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Fie, fie! D'Auvergne!" continued De Coucy, not noticing the emotion -his words had produced. "Thou, a knight who hast laid more Saracen -heads low than there are bells on your horse's poitral, not able to -unhorse so black a miscreant as Melancholy! Thou, who hast knelt at -the holy sepulchre," he added in a more dignified tone, "not to find -hope in faith, and comfort in the blessed Saviour, for whose cross -you've fought!"</p> - -<p class="normal">The count turned round, in some surprise at the unwonted vein which -the last part of his companion's speech indicated; but De Coucy kept -to it but for a moment, and then, darting off, he proceeded in the -same light way with which he had begun the conversation. "Melancholy!" -he cried in a loud voice, at the same time taking off his glove, as if -he would have cast it down as a gage of battle--"Melancholy and all -that do abet him. Love, Jealousy, Hatred, Fear, Poverty, and the like, -I do pronounce ye false miscreants, and defy you all! There lays my -glove!" and he made a show of throwing it on the ground.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Ah, De Coucy!" said D'Auvergne, with a melancholy smile, "your light -heart never knew what love is; and may it never know!"</p> - -<p class="normal">"By the rood! you do me wrong," cried De Coucy--"bitter wrong, -D'Auvergne! I defy you, in the whole lists of Europe's chivalry, to -find a man who has been so often in love as I have--ay, and though you -smile--with all the signs of true and profound love to boot. When I -was in love with the Princess of Suabia, did not I sigh three times -every morning, and sometimes sneeze as often? for it was winter -weather, and I used to pass half my nights under her window. When I -was in love with the daughter of Tancred of Sicily, did I not run -seven courses for her with all the best champions of England and -France, in my silk gambesoon, with no arms but my lance in my hand, -and my buckler on my arm? When I was in love with the pretty -Marchioness of Syracuse, did not I ride a mare one whole day,<a name="div4Ref_04" href="#div4_04"><sup>[4]</sup></a> -without ever knowing it, from pure absence of mind and profound -love?--and when I was in love with all the ladies of Cyprus, did not I -sing lays and write sirventes for them all?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"Your fighting in your hoqueton," replied D'Auvergne, "showed that you -were utterly fearless; and your riding on a mare showed that you were -utterly whimsical; but neither one nor the other showed you were in -love, my dear De Coucy. But look, De Coucy! the road bends downwards -into that valley. Either I have strangely forgotten my native land, or -your surly squire has led us wrong, and we are turning away from the -Puy to the valleys of Dome.--Ho, sirrah!" he continued, elevating his -voice and addressing the squire, who rode first, "Are you sure you are -right?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"Neither Cotereaux, nor Brabançois, nor Routiers, nor living creatures -of any kind, see I, to the right or left, <i>Beau Sire</i>," replied the -squire, in a measured man-at-arms-like tone, without either turning -his head or slackening his pace in the least degree.</p> - -<p class="normal">"But art thou leading us on the right road? I ask thee," repeated the -count.</p> - -<p class="normal">"I know not. Beau Sire," replied the squire. "I was thrown out, to -guard against danger,--I had no commands to seek the right road." And -he continued to ride on the wrong way as calmly as if no question -existed in respect to its direction.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Halt!" cried De Coucy. The man-at-arms stood still; and a short -council was held between the two knights in regard to their farther -proceedings, when it was determined that, although they were evidently -wrong, they should still continue for some way on the same road, -rather than turn back after so long a journey. "We must come to some -château or some habitation soon," said De Coucy; "or, at the worst, -find some of your country shepherds to guide us on towards the chapel. -But, methinks, Hugo de Barre, you might have told us sooner, that you -did not know the way!"</p> - -<p class="normal">"Now, good sir knight," replied the squire, speaking more freely when -addressed by his own lord, "none knew better than yourself, that I had -never been in Auvergne in all my days before. Did you ever hear of my -quitting my cot and my glebe, except to follow my good lord the baron, -your late father, for a forty days' <i>chevauchée</i> against the enemy, -before I took the blessed cross, and went a fool's errand to the Holy -Land?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"How now, sir!" cried De Coucy. "Do you call the holy crusade a fool's -errand? Be silent, Hugo, and lead on. Thou art a good scout and a good -soldier, and that is all thou art fit for."</p> - -<p class="normal">The squire replied nothing; but rode on in silence, instantly resuming -his habit of glancing his eye rapidly over every object that -surrounded him, with a scrupulous accuracy that left scarce a -possibility of ambuscade. The knights and their train followed; and -turning round a projecting part of the mountain, they found that the -road, instead of descending, as they had imagined, continued to climb -the steep, which at every step gained some new feature of grandeur and -singularity, till the sublime became almost the terrific. The verdure -gradually ceased, and the rocks approached so close on each side as to -leave no more space than just sufficient for the road, and a narrow -deep ravine by its side, at the bottom of which, wherever the thick -bushes permitted the eye to reach it, the mountain torrent was seen -dashing and roaring over enormous blocks of black lava, which it had -channelled into all strange shapes and appearances. High above the -heads of the travellers, also, rose on either hand a range of enormous -basaltic columns, fringed at the top by some dark old pines that, -hanging seventy or eighty feet in the air, seemed to form a frieze to -the gigantic colonnade through which they passed.</p> - -<p class="normal">De Coucy looked up with a smile, not unmixed with awe. "Could you not -fancy, D'Auvergne," he said, "that we were entering the portico of a -temple built by some bad enchanter to the Evil Spirit? By the holy -rood! it is a grand and awful scene! I did not think thy Auvergne was -so magnificent."</p> - -<p class="normal">As he spoke, the squire, who preceded them, suddenly stopped, and, -turning round--</p> - -<p class="normal">"The road ends here. <i>Beau Sire</i>," he cried. "The bridge is broken, -and there is no farther passage."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Light of my eyes!" cried De Coucy; "this is unfortunate! But let us -see, at all events, before we turn back:" and, riding forward, he -approached the spot where his squire stood.</p> - -<p class="normal">It was even as he had said, however. All farther progress in a direct -line was stopped by an immense mass of lava, which had probably lain -there for immemorial centuries. Certainly when the road was made, -which was probably in the days of the Romans, the same obstruction had -existed; for, instead of attempting to continue the way along the side -of the hill any farther in that direction, a single arch had been -thrown over the narrow ravine, and the road carried on through a wide -breach in the rocks on the other side. This opening, however, offered -nothing to the eye of De Coucy and his companions but a vacant space, -backed by the clear blue sky. The travellers paused, and gazed upon -the broken bridge and the road beyond for a minute or two, before -turning back, with that sort of silent pause which generally -precedes the act of yielding to some disagreeable necessity. However, -after a moment, the younger knight beckoned to one of his squires, -crying--"Give me my casque and sword!"</p> - -<p class="normal">"Now, in the name of Heaven! what Orlando trick are you going to put -in practice, De Coucy?" cried the Count d'Auvergne, watching his -companion take his helmet from the squire, and buckle on his long, -straight sword by his side. "Are you going to cleave that rock of -lava, or bridge over the ravine, with your shield?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"Neither," replied the knight, with a smile; "but I hear voices, -brought by the wind through that cleft on the other side, and I am -going over to ask the way."</p> - -<p class="normal">"De Coucy, you are mad!" cried the count. "Your courage is insanity. -Neither man nor horse can take that leap!"</p> - -<p class="normal">"Pshaw! you know not what Zerbilin can do!" said De Coucy, calmly -patting the arching neck of his slight Arabian horse: "and yet you -have yourself seen him take greater leaps than that!"</p> - -<p class="normal">"But see you not the road slopes upwards," urged the count. "There is -no hold for his feet. The horse is weary."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Weary!" exclaimed De Coucy: "nonsense! Give me space--give me space!"</p> - -<p class="normal">And, in spite of all remonstrance, he reined his horse back, and then -spurred him on to the leap. The obedient animal galloped onward to the -brink, shot forward like an arrow, and reached the other side.<a name="div4Ref_05" href="#div4_05"><sup>[5]</sup></a> But -what the Count d'Auvergne had said was just. The road beyond sloped -upwards from the very edge, and was composed of loose volcanic scoria, -which afforded no firm footing; so that the horse, though he -accomplished the leap, slipped backwards the moment he had reached the -opposite side, and rolled with his rider down into the ravine below!</p> - -<p class="normal">"Jesu Maria!" cried the count, springing to the ground, and advancing -to the edge of the ravine. "De Coucy, De Coucy!" cried he, "are you in -life?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"Yes, yes!" answered a faint voice from below: "and Zerbilin is not -hurt!"</p> - -<p class="normal">"But yourself, De Coucy!" cried his friend,--"speak of yourself!"</p> - -<p class="normal">A groan was the only reply.</p> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<h3>CHAPTER III.</h3> -<br> - -<p class="continue">It was in vain that the Count d'Auvergne gazed down into the ravine, -endeavouring to gain a sight of his rash friend. A mass of shrubs -overhung the shelving edge of the rock and totally intercepted his -view. In the meanwhile, however, Hugo de Barre, the squire who had led -the cavalcade, had sprung to the ground, and was already half-way over -the brink, attempting to descend to his lord's assistance, when a deep -voice from the bottom of the dell exclaimed, "Hold! hold above! Try -not to come down there. You will bring the rocks and loose stones upon -our heads, and kill us all."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Who is it speaks?" cried the Count d'Auvergne.</p> - -<p class="normal">"One of the hermits of Our Lady's chapel of the Mont d'Or," replied -the voice. "If ye be this knight's friends, go back for a thousand -paces, and ye will find a path down to the left, which leads to the -road by the stream. But if ye be his enemies, who have driven him to -the dreadful leap he has taken, get ye hence, for he is even now at -the foot of the cross."</p> - -<p class="normal">The Count d'Auvergne, without staying to reply, rode back as the -hermit directed, and easily found the path which they had before -passed, but which, as it apparently led in a direction different from -that in which they wished to proceed, they had hardly noticed at the -time. Following this path, they soon reached the bottom of the ravine, -where they found a good road, jammed in, as it were, between the rocks -over which they had passed, and the small mountain-stream they had -observed from above. For some way the windings of the dell and the -various projections of the crags, prevented them from seeing for any -distance in advance; but at length they came suddenly upon a group of -several persons, mounted and dismounted, both male and female, -gathered round De Coucy's beautiful Arabian, Zerbilin, who stood in -the midst soiled and scratched indeed, and trembling with the fright -and exertion of his fall, but almost totally uninjured, and filling -the air with his long wild neighings. The group by which he was -surrounded consisted entirely of the attendants of some persons not -present, squires and varlets in very gay attire; and female servants -and waiting women, not a bit behind hand in flutter and finery. A -beautiful brown Spanish jennet, such as any fair lady might love to -ride, stood near, held by one of those old squires who, in that age, -cruelly monopolised the privilege of assisting their lady to mount and -dismount, much to the disappointment of many a young page and gallant -gentleman, who would willing have relieved them of the task, -especially when the lady in question was young and fair. Not far off -was placed a strong but ancient horse, waiting for some other person, -who was absent with the lady of the jennet.</p> - -<p class="normal">Above the heads of this group, half-way up the face of the rock, stood -a large cross elevated on a projecting mass of stone, and behind it -appeared the mouth of a cavern, or rather of an excavation, from which -the blocks of lava had been drawn, in order to form the bridge we have -mentioned, now fallen from its "high estate," and encumbering the bed -of the river. It was easy to perceive the figures of several persons -moving to and fro in the cave, and concluding at once that it was -thither his unfortunate friend had been borne, the Count d'Auvergne -sprang to the ground, and passing through the group of pages and -waiting-women, who gazed upon him and his archers with some alarm, he -made his way up the little path that led to the mouth of the cave. -Here he found De Coucy stretched upon a bed of dry rushes, while a -tall, emaciated old man, covered with a brown frock, and ornamented -with a long white beard, stood by his side, holding his hand. Between -his fingers the hermit held a lancet; and from the strong muscular arm -of the knight, a stream of blood was just beginning to flow into a -small wooden bowl held by a page.</p> - -<p class="normal">Several other persons, however, filled the hermit's cave, of whom two -are worthy of more particular notice. The first was a short, stout, -old man, with a complexion that argued florid health and vigour, and a -small, keen, grey eye, the quick movement of which, with a sudden curl -of the lip and contraction of the brow on every slight occasion of -contradiction, might well bespeak a quick and impatient disposition. -The second was a young lady of perhaps nineteen or twenty, slight in -figure, but yet with every limb rounded in the full and swelling -contour of woman's most lovely age. Her features were small, delicate, -and nowhere sharp, yet cut with that square exactness of outline so -beautiful in the efforts of the Grecian chisel. Her eyes were long, -and full, and dark; and the black lashes that fringed them, as she -gazed earnestly on the figure of De Coucy, swept downward and lay upon -her cheek. The hair, that fell in a profusion of thick curls round her -face, was as black as jet; and yet her skin, though of that peculiar -tint almost inseparable from dark hair and eyes, was strikingly fair, -and as smooth as alabaster; while a faint but very beautiful colour -spread over each cheek, and died away into the clear pure white of her -temples.</p> - -<p class="normal">In days when love was a duty, and coldness a dishonour, on the part of -all who enjoyed or aspired to chivalry, no false delicacies, no fear -of compromising herself, none of the mighty considerations of small -proprieties that now-a-days hamper all the feelings, and enchain all -the frankness, of the female heart, weighed on the lady of the -thirteenth century. It was her duty to feel and to express an interest -in every good knight in danger and misfortune; and the fair being we -have just described, before the eyes of her father, who looked upon -her with honourable pride, knelt by the side of De Coucy; and while -the hermit held the arm from which the blood was just beginning to -flow, she kept the small fingers of her soft white hand upon the other -sinewy wrist of the insensible knight, and anxiously watched the -returning animation.</p> - -<p class="normal">While the Count d'Auvergne entered the cave in silence, and placed -himself beside the hermit, De Coucy's squire, Hugo de Barre, with one -of the pages, both devotedly attached to their young lord, had climbed -up also, and stood at the mouth of the cavern.</p> - -<p class="normal">"God's life! Hugo," cried the page, "let them not take my lord's -blood. We have got amongst traitors. They are killing him."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Peace, fool!" answered Hugo; "'tis a part of leech-craft. Did you -never see Fulk, the barber, bleed the old baron? Why, he had it done -every week. The De Coucys have more blood than other men."</p> - -<p class="normal">The page was silent for a moment, and then replied in an under-tone, -for there was a sort of contagious stillness round the hurt knight. -"You had better look to it, Hugo. They are bleeding my lord too much. -That hermit means him harm. See, how he stares at the great carbuncle -in Sir Guy's thumb-ring! He's murdering my lord to steal it. Shall I -put my dagger in him?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"Hold thy silly prate, Ermold de Marcy!" replied the squire: "think -you, the good count would stand by and see his sworn brother in arms -bled, without it was for his good? See you now, Sir Guy wakes!--God's -benison on you, Sir Hermit!"</p> - -<p class="normal">De Coucy did indeed open his eyes, and looked round, though but -faintly. "D'Auvergne," said he, the moment after, while the playful -smile fluttered again round his lips, "by the rood! I had nearly -leaped farther than I intended, and taken Zerbilin with me into -Paradise. Thanks, hermit!--thanks, gentle lady!--I can rise now. Ho! -Hugo, lend me thine arm."</p> - -<p class="normal">But the hermit gently put his hand upon the knight's breast, saying, -in a tone more resembling cynical bitterness than Christian mildness, -"Hold, my son! This world is not the sweetest of dwelling-places; but -if thou wouldst not change it for a small, cold, comfortable grave, -lie still. You shall be carried up to the chapel of Our Lady, by the -lake, where there is more space than in this cave; and there I will -find means to heal your bruises in two days, if your quick spirit may -be quiet for so long."</p> - -<p class="normal">As he spoke, he stopped the bleeding, and bound up the arm of the -knight, who, finding probably even by the slight exertion he had made -that he was in no fit state to act for himself, submitted quietly, -merely giving a glance to the Count d'Auvergne, half rueful, half -smiling, as if he would fain have laughed at himself and his own -helplessness, if the pain of his bruises would have let him.</p> - -<p class="normal">"I prithee, holy father hermit, tell me," said the Count d'Auvergne, -"is the hurt of this good knight dangerous? for if it be, we will send -to Mont Ferrand for some skilful leech from my uncle's castle--and -instantly."</p> - -<p class="normal">"His body is sufficiently bruised, my son," replied the hermit, "to -give him, I hope, a sounder mind for the future, than to leap his -horse down a precipice: and as for the leech, let him stay at Mont -Ferrand. The knight is bad enough without his help, if he come to make -him worse; and if he come to cure him, I can do that without his aid. -Leech-craft is as much worse than ignorance, as killing is worse than -letting die."</p> - -<p class="normal">"By my faith and my knighthood," cried the old gentleman, who stood at -De Coucy's feet, and who, during the count's question and the hermit's -somewhat ungracious reply, had been gazing at d'Auvergne with various -looks of recognition--"by my faith and my knighthood! I believe it is -the Count Thibalt--though my eyes are none of the clearest, and it is -long since--but, yes! it is surely--Count Thibalt d'Auvergne."</p> - -<p class="normal">"The same, <i>Beau Sire</i>," replied D'Auvergne; "my memory is less true -than yours, or I see my father's old arm's fellow, Count Julian of the -Mount."</p> - -<p class="normal">"E'en so, fair sir!--e'en so!" replied the old man: "I and my daughter -Isadore are even now upon our way to Vic le Comte to pass some short -space with the good count, your father. A long and weary journey have -we had hither, all the way from Flanders; and for our safe arrival we -go to offer at the chapel of Our Lady of St. Pavin of the Mount D'Or, -ere we proceed to taste your castle's hospitality. Good faith! you may -well judge 'tis matter of deep import brings me so far. Affairs of -policy, young sir--affairs of policy," he added in a low and -consequential voice. "Doubtless your father may have hinted--"</p> - -<p class="normal">"For five long years, fair sir, I have not seen my father's face," -replied D'Auvergne. "By the cross I bear, you may see where I have -sojourned; and De Coucy and myself were but now going to lay our palms -upon the altar of Our Lady of St. Pavin (according to a holy vow we -made at Rome), prior to turning our steps towards our castle also. Let -us all on together then--I see the holy hermit has commanded the -varlets to make a litter for my hurt friend; and after having paid our -vows, we will back to Vic le Comte, and honour your arrival with wine -and music."</p> - -<p class="normal">While this conversation passed between D'Auvergne and the old knight, -De Coucy's eyes had sought out more particularly the fair girl who had -been kneeling by his side, and he addressed to her much and manifold -thanks for her gentle tending--in so low a tone, however, that it -obliged her to stoop over him in order to hear what he said. De Coucy, -as he had before professed to the Count d'Auvergne, had often tasted -love, such as it was; and had ever been a bold wooer; but in the -present instance, though he felt very sure and intimately convinced, -that the eyes which now looked upon him were brighter than ever he had -seen, and the lips that spoke to him were fuller, and softer, and -sweeter, than ever had moved in his eyesight before, yet his stock of -gallant speeches failed him strangely, and he found some difficulty -even in thanking the lady as he could have wished. At all events, so -lame he thought the expression of those thanks, that he endeavoured to -make up for it by reiteration--and repeated them so often, that at -length the lady gently imposed silence upon him, lest his much -speaking might retard his cure.</p> - -<p class="normal">The secrets of a lady's breast are a sort of forbidden fruit, which we -shall not be bold enough to touch; and therefore, whatever the fair -Isadore might think of De Coucy--whatever touch of tenderness might -mingle with her pity--whatever noble and knightly qualities she might -see, or fancy, on his broad, clear brow, and bland, full lip--we shall -not even stretch our hand towards the tree of knowledge, far less -offer the fruit thereof to any one else. Overt acts, however, of all -kinds are common property; and therefore it is no violation of -confidence, or of any thing else, to say that something in the tone -and manner of the young knight made the soft crimson grow a shade -deeper in the cheek of Isadore of the Mount; and, when the litter was -prepared, and De Coucy placed thereon, though she proceeded with every -appearance of indifference to mount her light jennet, and follow the -cavalcade, she twice turned round to give a quick and anxious look -towards the litter, as it was borne down the narrow and slippery path -from the cave.</p> - -<p class="normal">Although that alone which passed between De Coucy and the lady has -been particularly mentioned here, it is not to be thence inferred that -all the other personages who were present stood idly looking on--that -the Count d'Auvergne took no heed of his hurt friend--that Sir Julian -of the Mount forgot his daughter, or that the attendants of the young -knight were unmindful of their master. Some busied themselves in -preparing the litter of boughs and bucklers--some spread cloaks and -furred aumuces upon it to make it soft--and some took care that the -haubert, head-piece, and sword, of which De Coucy had been divested, -should not be left behind in the cave.</p> - -<p class="normal">In the mean while. Sir Julian of the Mount pointed out his daughter to -the Count Thibalt d'Auvergne, boasted her skill in leech-craft, and -her many other estimable qualities, and assured him that he might -safely intrust the care of De Coucy's recovery to her.</p> - -<p class="normal">The Count d'Auvergne's eye fell coldly upon her, and ran over every -exquisite line of loveliness, as she stood by the young knight, -unconscious of his gaze, without evincing one spark of that gallant -enthusiasm which the sight of beauty generally called up in the -chivalrous bosoms of the thirteenth century. It was a cold, steady, -melancholy look--and yet it ended with a sigh. The only compliment he -could force his lips to form, went to express that his friend was -happy in having fallen into such fair and skilful hands; and, this -said, he proceeded to the side of the litter, which, borne by six of -the attendants, was now carried down to the bank of the stream, and -thence along the road that, winding onward through the narrow gorge, -passed under the broken bridge, and gradually climbed to the higher -parts of the mountain.</p> - -<p class="normal">The general cavalcade followed as they might; for the scantiness of -the path, which grew less and less as it proceeded, prevented the -possibility of any regularity in their march. At length, however, the -gorge widened out into a small basin of about five hundred yards in -diameter, round which the hills sloped up on every side, taking the -shape of a funnel. Over one edge thereof poured a small but beautiful -cascade, starting from mass to mass of volcanic rock, whose -decomposition offered a thousand bright and singular hues, amidst -which the white and flashing waters of the stream agitated themselves -with a strange but picturesque effect.</p> - -<p class="normal">At the bottom of the cascade was a group of shepherds' huts; and as it -was impossible for the horses to proceed farther, it was determined to -leave the principal part of the attendants also there, to wait the -return of the party from the chapel, which was, of course, to take -place as soon as De Coucy had recovered from his bruises.</p> - -<p class="normal">Some difficulty occurred in carrying the litter over the steeper part -of the mountain, but at length it was accomplished; and, skirting -round part of a large ancient forest, the pilgrims came suddenly on -the banks of that most beautiful and extraordinary effort of nature, -the <i>Lac Pavin</i>. Before their eyes extended a vast sheet of water, the -crystal pureness of which mocks all description, enclosed within a -basin of verdure, whose sides, nearly a hundred and fifty feet in -height, rise from the banks of the lake with so precipitous an -elevation, that no footing, however firm, can there keep its hold. For -the space of a league and a half, which the lake occupies, this -beautiful green border, with very little variation in its height, may -still be seen following the limpid line of the water, into which it -dips itself, clear, and at once, without rush or ooze, or water plant -of any description, to break the union of the soft turf and the pure -wave.</p> - -<p class="normal">Towards the south and east, however, extends, even now, an immense -mass of dark and sombre wood, which, skirting down the precipitous -bank, seems to contemplate its own majesty in the clear mirror of the -lake. At the same time, all around, rise up a giant family of mountain -peaks, which, each standing out abrupt and single in the sunny air, -seem frowning on the traveller that invades their solitude.</p> - -<p class="normal">Here, in the days of Philip Augustus, stood a small chapel dedicated -to the Virgin, called Our Lady of St. Pavin; and many a miraculous -cure is said to have been operated by the holy relics of the shrine, -which caused Our Lady of St. Pavin to be the favourite saint of many -of the chief families in France. By the side of the chapel was placed -a congregation of small huts or cells, both for the accommodation of -the various pilgrims who came to visit the shrine, and for the -dwelling of three holy hermits, one of whom served the altar as a -priest, while the other two retained the more amphibious character of -<i>simple recluse</i>, bound by no vows but such as they chose to impose -upon themselves.</p> - -<p class="normal">At these huts the travellers now paused; and after De Coucy had been -carried into one of them, the hermit, who had guided the travellers -thither, demanded of the Count d'Auvergne, whether any of his train -could draw a good bow, and wing a shaft well home.</p> - -<p class="normal">"They are all archers, good hermit," replied D'Auvergne; "see you not -their bows and quivers?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"Many a man wears a sword that cannot use it," replied the hermit in -the cynical tone which seemed natural to him. "Here, your very friend, -whom God himself has armed with eyes and ears, and even understanding, -such as it is, does he make use of any when he gallops down a -precipice, where he would surely have been killed, had it not been for -the aid and protection of a merciful Heaven, and a few stunted hazels? -Your archers may make as good use of their bows as he does of his -brains--and then what serves their archery? But, however, choose out -the best marksman; bid him go up to yonder peak, and take two -well-feathered arrows with him: he will shoot no more! Then send all -the rest to beat the valley to the right, with loud cries; the izzards -will instantly take to the heights. Let your archer choose as they -pass, and deliver me his arrows into the two fattest; (though God -knows! 'tis a crying sin to slay two wise beasts to save one foolish -man;) but let your vassal stay to make no <i>curée</i>, but bring the -beasts down here while the life-heat is still in them. Your friend, -wrapped in the fresh-flayed hides, shall be to-morrow as whole as if -he had never played the fool!"</p> - -<p class="normal">"I have seen it done at Byzantium," replied D'Auvergne, "when a good -knight of Flanders was hurled down from the south tower. It had a -marvellous effect:--we will about it instantly."</p> - -<p class="normal">Accordingly, two of the izzards, which were then common in Auvergne, -were soon slain in the manner the hermit directed; and De Coucy, -notwithstanding no small dislike to the remedy, was stripped, and -wrapped in the reeking hides<a name="div4Ref_06" href="#div4_06"><sup>[6]</sup></a>; after which, stretched upon a bed of -dry moss belonging to one of the hermits, he endeavoured to amuse -himself with thoughts of love and battles, while the rest went to pay -their vows at the shrine of Our Lady of St. Pavin.</p> - -<p class="normal">De Coucy's mind soon wandered through all the battles, and -tournaments, and passes of arms that could possibly be fought; and -then his fancy, by what was in those days a very natural digression, -turned to love--and he thought of all the thousand ladies he had loved -in his life; and, upon recollecting all the separate charms of each, -he found that they were all very beautiful: he could not deny it. But -yet certainly, beyond all doubt, the fair Isadore of the Mount, with -her dark, dark eyes, and her clear, bland brow, and her mouth such as -angels smile with, was far more beautiful than any of them.</p> - -<p class="normal">But still De Coucy asked himself, why he could not tell her so? He had -never found it difficult to tell any one they were beautiful before; -or to declare that he loved them; or to ask them for a glove, or a -bracelet, or a token to fix on his helm, and be his second in the -battle: but now, he felt sure that he had stammered like a schoolboy, -and spoken below his voice, like a young squire to an old knight. So -De Coucy concluded, from all these symptoms, that he could not be in -love; and fully convinced thereof, he very naturally fell asleep.</p> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<h3>CHAPTER IV.</h3> - -<p class="normal">We must now change the scene, and, leaving wilds and mountains, come -to a more busy though still a rural view. From the small, narrow -windows of the ancient château of Compiègne might be seen, on the one -side, the forest with its ocean of green and waving boughs; and on the -other, a lively little town on the banks of the Oise, the windings of -which river could be traced from the higher towers, far beyond its -junction with the Aisne, into the distant country. Yet, -notwithstanding that it was a town, Compiègne scarcely detracted from -the rural aspect of the picture. It had, even in those days, its -gardens and its fruit-trees, which gave it an air of verdure, and -blended it, as it were, insensibly with the forest, that waved against -its very walls. The green thatches, too, of its houses, in which slate -or tile was unknown, covered with moss, and lichens, and flowering -houseleek, offered not the cold, stiff uniformity of modern roofs; and -the eye that looked down upon those constructions of art in its -earliest and rudest form found all the picturesque irregularity of -nature.</p> - -<p class="normal">Gazing from one of the narrow windows of a large square chamber, in -the keep of the château, were two beings, who seemed to be enjoying, -to the full, those bright hours of early affection, which are well -called "the summer days of existence," yielding flowers, and warmth, -and sunshine, and splendour;--hours that are so seldom known;--hours -that so often pass away like dreams;--hours which are such strangers -in courts, that, when they do intrude with their warm rays into the -cold precincts of a palace, history marks their coming as a -phenomenon, too often followed by a storm.</p> - -<p class="normal">Alone, in the solitude of that large chamber, those two beings were as -if in a world by themselves. The fair girl, seemingly scarce nineteen -years of age, with her light hair floating upon her shoulders in large -masses of shining curls, leaned her cheek upon her hand, and gazing -with her full, soft, blue eyes over the far extended landscape, -appeared lost in thought; while her other hand, fondly clasped in that -of her companion, pointed out, as it were, how nearly linked he was to -her seemingly abstracted thoughts.</p> - -<p class="normal">The other tenant of that chamber was a man of thirty-two or -thirty-three years of age, tall, well-formed, handsome, of the same -fair complexion as his companion, but bronzed by the manly florid hue -of robust health, exposure, and exercise. His nose was slightly -aquiline, his chin rounded and rather prominent, and his blue eyes -would have been fine and expressive, had they not been rather nearer -together than the just proportion, and stained, as it were on the very -iris, by some hazel spots in the midst of the blue. The effect, -however, of the whole was pleasing; and the very defect of the eyes, -by its singularity, gave something fine and distinguished to the -countenance; while their nearness, joined with the fire that shone out -in their glance, seemed to speak that keen and quick sagacity, which -sees and determines at once, in the midst of thick dangers and -perplexity.</p> - -<p class="normal">The expression, however, of those eyes was now calm and soft, while -sometimes holding her hand in his, sometimes playing with a crown of -wild roses he had put on his companion's head, he mingled one rich -curl after another with the green leaves and the blushing flowers; -and, leaning with his left arm against the embrasure of the window, -high above her head, as she sat gazing out upon the landscape, he -looked down upon the beautiful creature, through the mazes of whose -hair his other hand was straying, with a smile strangely mingled of -affection for her, and mockery of his own light employment.</p> - -<p class="normal">There was grace, and repose, and dignity, in his whole figure, and the -simple green hunting tunic which he wore, without robe, or hood, or -ornament whatever, served better to show its easy majesty, than would -the robes of a king--and yet this was Philip Augustus.</p> - -<p class="normal">"So pensive, sweet Agnes!" said he, after a moment's silence, thus -waking from her reverie the lovely Agnes de Meranie, whom he had -married shortly after the sycophant bishops of France had pronounced -the nullity of his unconsummated marriage with Ingerburge,<a name="div4Ref_07" href="#div4_07"><sup>[7]</sup></a> for whom -he had conceived the most inexplicable aversion:--"So pensive," he -said. "Where did those sweet thoughts wander?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"Far, far, my Philip!" replied the queen, leaning back her head upon -his arm, and gazing up in his face with a look of that profound, -unutterable affection, which <i>sometimes</i> dwells in woman's heart for -her first and only love:--"far from this castle, and this court;--far -from Philip's splendid chivalry, and his broad realms, and his fair -cities; and yet with Philip still. I thought of my own father, and all -his tenderness and love for me; and of my own sweet Istria! and I -thought how hard was the fate of princes, that some duty always -separated them from some of those they love, and----"</p> - -<p class="normal">"And doubtless you wished to quit your Philip for those that you love -better," interrupted the king, with a smile at the very charge which -he well knew would soon be contradicted.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Oh, no! no!" replied Agnes; "but, as I looked out yonder, and thought -it was the way to Istria, I wished that my Philip was but a simple -knight, and I a humble demoiselle. Then should he mount his horse, and -I would spring upon my palfrey; and we would ride gaily back to my -native land, and see my father once again, and live happily with those -we loved."</p> - -<p class="normal">"But tell me, Agnes," said Philip, with a tone of melancholy that -struck her, "if you were told, that you might to-morrow quit me, and -return to your father, and your own fair land, would you not go?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"Would I quit you?" cried Agnes, starting up, and placing her two -hands upon her husband's arm, while she gazed in his face with a look -of surprise that had no small touch of fear in it:--"would I quit you? -Never! And if you drove me forth, I would come back and be your -servant--your slave; or would watch in the corridors but to have a -glance as you passed by;--or else I would die," she added, after a -moment's pause, for she had spoken with all the rapid energy of -alarmed affection. "But tell me, tell me, Philip, what did you mean? -For all your smiling, you spoke gravely. Nay, kisses are no answers."</p> - -<p class="normal">"I did but jest, my Agnes," replied Philip, holding her to his heart -with a fond pressure. "Part with you! I would sooner part with life!"</p> - -<p class="normal">As he spoke, the door of the chamber suddenly opened, the hangings -were pushed aside, and an attendant appeared.</p> - -<p class="normal">"How now," cried the king, unclasping his arms from the slight, -beautiful form round which they were thrown. "How now, villain! Must -my privacy be broken at every moment? How dare you enter my chamber -without my call?" And his flashing eye and reddened cheek spoke that -quick impatient spirit which never possessed any man's breast more -strongly than that of Philip Augustus. And yet, strange to say, the -powers of his mind were such, that every page of his history affords a -proof of his having made even his most impetuous passions subservient -to his policy;--not by conquering them, but by giving vent to them in -such direction as suited best the exigency of the times, and the -interest of his kingdom.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Sire," replied the attendant with a profound reverence, "the good -knight Sir Stephen Guerin has just arrived from Paris, and prays an -audience."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Admit him," said Philip; and his features, which had expanded like an -unstrung bow while in the gentler moments of domestic happiness, and -had flashed with the broad blaze of the lightning under the effect of -sudden irritation, gradually contracted into a look of grave thought -as his famous and excellent friend and minister Guerin approached.</p> - -<p class="normal">He was a tall, thin man, with strong marked features, and was dressed -in the black robe and eight-limbed cross of the order of Hospitallers, -which habit he retained even long after his having been elected bishop -of Senlis. He pushed back his hood, and bowed low in sign of reverence -as he approached the king; but Philip advanced to meet, and welcomed -him with the affectionate embrace of an equal, "Ha! fair brother!" -said the king. "What gives us the good chance of seeing you, from our -town of Paris? We left you full of weighty matters."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Matters of still greater weight, beau sire," replied the Hospitaller, -"claiming your immediate attention, have made me bold to intrude upon -your privacy. An epistle from the good pope Celestin came yesterday by -a special messenger, charging your highness----"</p> - -<p class="normal">"Hold!" cried Philip, raising his finger as a sign to keep silence. -"Come to my closet, brother; we will hear the good bishop's letter in -private.--Tarry, sweet Agnes! I have vowed thee three whole days, -without the weight of royalty bearing down our hearts; and this shall -not detain me long."</p> - -<p class="normal">"I would not, my lord, for worlds," replied the queen, "that men -should say my Philip neglected his kingdom, or his people's happiness, -for a woman's smile. I will wait here for your return, be your -business long as it may, and think the time well spent.--Rest you -well, fair brother," she added, as it were in reply to a beaming smile -that for a moment lighted up the harsh features of the hospitaller; -"cut not short your tale for me."</p> - -<p class="normal">The minister bowed low, and Philip, after having pressed his lips on -the fair forehead of his wife, led the way through a long passage with -windows on either side, to a small closet in one of the angular -turrets of the castle. It was well contrived for the cabinet of a -statesman, for, placed as it was, a sort of excrescence from one of -the larger towers, it was cut off from all other buildings, so that no -human ear could catch one word of any conversation which passed -therein. The monarch entered; and, making a sign to his minister to -close the door, he threw himself on a seat, and stretched forth his -hand, as if for the pontiff's letter. "Not a word before the queen!" -said he, taking the vellum from the hospitaller,--"not a word before -the queen, of all the idle cavilling of the Roman church. I would not, -for all the crowns of Charlemagne, that Agnes should dream of a flaw -in my divorce from Ingerburge--though that flaw be no greater a matter -than a moat in the sore eyes of the church of Rome.--But let me see! -What says Celestin?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"He threatens you, royal sir," replied the minister, "with -excommunication, and anathema, and interdict."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Pshaw!" cried Philip, with a contemptuous smile; "he has not vigour -enough to anathematise a flea! 'Tis a good mild priest; somewhat -tenacious of his church's rights,--for, let me tell thee, Stephen, had -I but craved my divorce from Rome, instead of from my bishops of -France, I should have heard no word of anathema or interdict. It was a -fault of policy, so far as my personal quiet is concerned; and there -might be somewhat of hasty passion in it too; but yet, good knight, -'twas not without forethought. The grasping church of Rome is -stretching out her thousand hands into all the kingdoms round about -her, and snatching, one by one, the prerogatives of the throne. The -time will come,--I see it well,--when the prelate's foot shall tread -upon the prince's crown; but I will take no step to put mine beneath -the scandal of St. Peter. No! though the everlasting buzzing of all -the crimson flies in the conclave should deafen me outright.--But let -me read."</p> - -<p class="normal">The hospitaller bowed, and silently studied the countenance of the -sovereign, while he perused the letter of the pontiff. Philip's -features, however, underwent no change of expression. His brow knit -slightly from the first; but no more than so far as to show attention -to what he was reading. His lip, too, maintained its contemptuous -curl; but that neither increased nor diminished; and when he had done, -he threw the packet lightly on the table, exclaiming--"Stingless! -stingless! The good prelate will hurt no one!"</p> - -<p class="normal">"Too true, sire," replied the impassable Guerin; "he will now hurt no -one, for he is dead."</p> - -<p class="normal">"St. Denis to boot!" cried the king. "Dead! Why told you it not -before!--Dead! When did he die?--Has the conclave met?--Have they gone -to election?--Whom have they adored.<a name="div4Ref_08" href="#div4_08"><sup>[8]</sup></a>--Who is the pope? Speak, -hospitaller! Speak!"</p> - -<p class="normal">"The holy conclave have elected the cardinal Lothaire, sire," replied -the knight. "Your highness has seen him here in France, as well as at -Rome: a man of a great and capacious mind."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Too great!--too great!" replied Philip thoughtfully. "He is no -Celistin. We shall soon hear more!" and, rising from his seat, he -paced the narrow space of his cabinet backwards and forwards for -several minutes; then paused, and placing one hand on his counsellor's -shoulder, he laid the forefinger of the other on his breast--"If I -could rely on my barons," said he emphatically,--"if I could rely on -my barons;--not that I do not reverence the church, Guerin,--God -knows! I would defend it from heathens and heretics, and miscreants, -with my best blood. Witness my journey to the Holy Land!--witness the -punishment of Amaury!--witness the expulsion of the Jews! But this -Lothaire----"</p> - -<p class="normal">"Now Innocent the Third!" said the minister, taking advantage of a -pause in the king's speech. "Why he is a great man, sire--a man of a -vast and powerful mind: firm in his resolves, as he is bold in his -undertakings--powerful--beloved. I would have my royal lord think what -must be his conduct, if Innocent should take the same view of the -affairs of France as was taken by Celestin."</p> - -<p class="normal">Philip paused, and, with his eyes bent upon the ground, remained for -several minutes in deep thought. Gradually the colour mounted in his -cheek, and some strong emotion seemed struggling in his bosom, for his -eye flashed, and his lip quivered; and, suddenly catching the arm of -the hospitaller, he shook the clenched fist of his other hand in the -air, exclaiming--"He will not! He shall not! He dare not!--Oh, Guerin, -if I may but rely upon my barons!"</p> - -<p class="normal">"Sire, you cannot do so," replied the knight firmly. "They are -turbulent and discontented; and the internal peace of your kingdom has -more to fear from their disloyal practices, than even your domestic -peace has from the ambitious intermeddling of pope Innocent. You must -not count upon your barons, sire, to support you in opposition to the -church. Even now. Sir Julian of the Mount, the sworn friend of the -Counts of Boulogne and Flanders, has undertaken a journey to Auvergne, -which bodes a new coalition against you, sire. Sir Julian is -discontented, because you refused him the feof of Beaumetz, which was -held by his sister's husband, dead without heirs. The Count de -Boulogne you know to be a traitor. The count of Flanders was ever a -dealer in rebellion. The old Count d'Auvergne, though no rebel, loves -you not."</p> - -<p class="normal">"They will raise a lion!" cried the king, stamping with his foot--"ay, -they will raise a lion! Let Sir Julian of the Mount beware! The -citizens of Albert demand a charter. Sir Julian claims some ancient -rights. See that the charter be sealed to-morrow, Guerin, giving them -right of watch and ward, and wall--rendering them an untailleable and -free commune. Thus shall we punish good Sir Julian of the Mount, and -flank his fair lands with a free city, which shall be his annoyance, -and give us a sure post upon the very confines of Flanders. See it be -done! As to the rest, come what may, my private happiness I will -subject to no man's will; nor shall it be my hands that stoop the -royal sceptre of France to the bidding of any prelate for whom the -earth finds room.--Silence, my friend!" he added sharply; "the king's -resolve is taken; and, above all, let not a doubt of the sureness of -her marriage reach the ears of the queen. <i>I</i>, Philip of France, say -the divorce <i>shall</i> stand!--and who is there shall give me the lie in -my own land?" Thus saying, the king turned, and led the way back to -the apartment where he had left the queen.</p> - -<p class="normal">His first step upon the rushes of the room in which she sat woke Agnes -de Meraine from her reverie; and though her husband's absence had been -but short, her whole countenance beamed with pleasure at his return; -while, laying on his arm the small white hand, which even monks and -hermits have celebrated, she gazed up in his face, as if to see -whether the tidings he had heard had stolen any thing from the -happiness they were before enjoying. Philip's eyes rested on her, full -of tenderness and love; and then turned to his minister with an -appealing, and almost reproachful look. Guerin felt, himself, how -difficult, how agonising it would be to part with a being so lovely -and so beloved; and with a deep sigh, and a low inclination to the -queen, he quitted the apartment.</p> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<h3>CHAPTER V.</h3> -<br> - -<p class="continue">In Auvergne, but in a different part of it from that where we left our -party of pilgrims, rode onward a personage who seemed to think, with -Jacques, that motley is the only wear. Not that he was precisely -habited in the piebald garments of the professed fool; but yet his -dress was as many coloured as the jacket of my ancient friend -harlequin; and so totally differed from the vestments of that age, -that it seemed as if he had taken a jump of two or three centuries, -and stolen some gay habit from the court of Charles the Seventh. He -wore long tight silk breeches, of a bright flame-colour; a sky-blue -cassock of cloth girt round his waist by a yellow girdle, below which -it did not extend above three inches, forming a sort of frill about -his middle; while, at the same time, this sort of surcoat being -without sleeves, his arms appeared from beneath covered with a jacket -of green silk, cut close to his shape, and buttoned tight at the -wrists. On his head he wore a black cap, not unlike the famous -Phrygian bonnet; and he was mounted on a strong grey mare, then -considered a ridiculous and disgraceful equipage.</p> - -<p class="normal">This strange personage's figure no way corresponded with his absurd -dress; for, had one desired a model of active strength, it could -nowhere have been found better than in his straight and muscular -limbs. His face, however, was more in accordance with the extravagance -of his habiliments; for, certainly, never did a more curious -physiognomy come from the cunning and various hand of Nature. His nose -was long, and was seemingly boneless; for, ever and anon, whether from -some natural convulsive motion, or from a voluntary and laudable -desire to improve upon the singular hideousness of his countenance, -this long, sausage-like contrivance in the midst of his face would -wriggle from side to side, with a very portentous and uneasy movement. -His eyes were large and grey, and did not in the least discredit the -nose in whose company they were placed, though they had in themselves -a manifest tendency to separate, never having any fixed and determined -direction, but wandering about apparently independent of each -other,--sometimes far asunder,--sometimes, like Pyramus and Thisbe, -wooing each other across the wall of his nose with a most portentous -squint. Besides this obliquity, they were endowed with a cold, -leadenness of stare, which would have rendered the whole face as -meaningless as a mask, had not, every now and then, a still, keen, -sharp glance stolen out of them for a moment, like the sudden kindling -up of a fire where all seems cold and dead. His mouth was guarded with -large thick lips, which extended far and wide through a black and -bushy beard; and, when he yawned, which was more than once the case, -as he rode through the fertile valleys of Limagne, a great chasm -seemed to open in his countenance, exposing, to the very back, two -ranges of very white, broad teeth, with their accompanying gums.</p> - -<p class="normal">For some way, the traveller rode on in quiet, seeming to exercise -himself in giving additional ugliness to his features, by screwing -them into every sort of form, till he became aware that he was watched -by a party of men, whose appearance had nothing in it very consolatory -to the journeyer of those days.</p> - -<p class="normal">The road through the valley was narrow; the hills, rising rapidly on -each side, were steep and rugged; and the party which we have -mentioned was stationed at some two or three hundred yards before him, -consisting of about ten or twelve archers, who, lurking behind a mass -of stones and bushes, seemed prepared to impose a toll upon the -highway through the valley.</p> - -<p class="normal">The traveller, however, pursued his journey, though he very well -comprehended their aim and object, nor did he exhibit any sign of fear -or alarm beyond the repeated wriggling of his nose, till such time as -he beheld one of the foremost of the group begin to fit an arrow to -his bowstring, and take a clear step beyond the bushes. Then, suddenly -reversing his position on the horse, which was proceeding at an easy -canter, he placed his head on the saddle, and his feet in the air; and -in this position advanced quietly on his way, not at all unlike one of -those smart and active gentlemen who may be seen nightly in the -spring-time circumambulating the area of Astley's Amphitheatre.</p> - -<p class="normal">The feat which he performed, however simple and legitimate at present, -was quite sufficiently extraordinary in those days, to gain him the -reputation of a close intimacy with Satan, even if it did not make him -pass for Satan himself.</p> - -<p class="normal">The thunderstruck archer dropped his arrow, exclaiming, "'Tis the -devil!" to which conclusion most of his companions readily assented. -Nevertheless, one less ceremonious than the rest started forward and -bent his own bow for the shot. "If he be the devil," cried he, "the -more reason to give him an arrow in his liver: what matters it to us -whether he be devil or saint, so he have a purse?" As he spoke, he -drew his bow to the full extent of his arm, and raised the arrow to -his eye. But at the very moment the missile twanged away from the -string, the strange horseman we have described let himself fall -suddenly across his mare, much after the fashion of a sack of wheat, -and the arrow whistled idly over him. Then, swinging himself up again -into his natural position, he turned his frightful countenance to the -<i>routiers</i>, and burst into a loud horse-laugh that had something in -its ringing coppery tone truly unearthly.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Fools!" cried he, riding close up to the astonished plunderers. "Do -you think to hurt me? Why, I am your patron saint, the Devil. Do not -you know your lord and master? But, poor fools, I will give you a -morsel. Lay ye a strong band between Vic le Comte and the lake Pavin, -and watch there till ye see a fine band of pilgrims coming down. Skin -them! skin them, if ye be true thieves. Leave them not a besant to -bless themselves!"</p> - -<p class="normal">Here one of the thieves, moved partly by a qualm of conscience, partly -by bodily fear at holding a conversation with a person he most -devoutly believed to be the Prince of Darkness, signed himself with -the cross,--an action, not at all unusual amongst the plunderers of -that age, who, so far from casting off the bonds of religion at the -same time that they threw off all the other ties of civil society, -were often but the more superstitious and credulous from the very -circumstances of their unlawful trade. However, no sooner did the -horseman see the sign, than he affected to start. "Ha!" cried he. "You -drive me away; but we shall meet again, good friends--we shall meet -again, and trust me, I will give you a warm reception. Haw, haw, haw, -haw!" and, contorting his face into a most horrible grin, he poured -forth one of his fiendlike laughs, and galloped off at full speed.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Jesu Maria!" cried one of the routiers, "it is the fiend certainly--I -will give him an arrow, for heaven's benison!" But whether it was that -the bowman's hand trembled, or that the horseman was too far distant, -certain it is, he rode on in safety, and did not even know that he had -been again shot at.</p> - -<p class="normal">"I will give the half of the first booty I make to our lady of Mount -Ferrand," cried one of the robbers, thinking to appease Heaven and -guard against Satan, by sharing the proceeds of his next breach of the -decalogue with the priest of his favourite saint.</p> - -<p class="normal">"And I will lay out six sous of Paris on a general absolution!" cried -another, whose faith was great in the potency of papal authority.</p> - -<p class="normal">But, leaving these gentry to arrange their affairs with Heaven as they -thought fit, we must follow for a time the person they mistook for -their spiritual enemy, and must also endeavour to develope what was -passing in his mind, which really did in some degree find utterance; -he being one of those people whose lips--those ever unfaithful -guardians of the treasures of the heart--are peculiarly apt to murmur -forth unconsciously, that on which the mind is busy. His thoughts -burst from him in broken murmured sentences, somewhat to the following -effect:--"What matters it to me who is killed!--Say the villains kill -the men-at-arms.--Haw, haw! haw, haw! 'Twill be rare sport!--And then -we will strip them, and I shall have gold, gold, gold! But the -men-at-arms will kill the villains. I care not! I will help to kill -them:--then I shall get gold too.--Haw, haw, haw! The villains -plundered some rich merchants yesterday, and I will plunder them -to-morrow. Oh, rare! Then, that Thibalt of Auvergne may be killed in -the <i>melée</i>, with his cold look and his sneer.--Oh! how I shall like -to see that lip, that called me <i>De Coucy's fool juggler</i>,--how I -shall like to see it grinning with death! I will have one of his white -fore-teeth for a mouth-piece to my reed flute, and one of his arm -bones polished, to whip tops withal.--Haw, haw, haw! De Coucy's fool -juggler!--Haw, haw! haw, haw! Ay, and my good Lord de Coucy!--the -beggarly miscreant. He struck me, when I had got hold of a lord's -daughter at the storming of Constantinople, and forbade me to show her -violence.--Haw, haw! I paid him for meddling with my plunder, by -stealing his; and, because I dared not carry it about, buried it in a -field at Naples:--but I owe him the blow yet. It shall be paid!--Haw, -haw, haw! Shall I tell him now the truth of what he sent me to -Burgundy for? No, no, no! for then he'll sit at home at ease, and be a -fine lord; and I shall be thrust into the kitchen, and called for, to -amuse the noble knights and dames.--Haw, haw! No, no! he shall wander -yet awhile; but I must make up my tale." And the profundity of thought -into which he now fell, put a stop to his solitary loquacity; though -ever and anon, as the various fragments of roguery, and villany, and -folly, which formed the strange chaos of his mind, seemed, as it were, -to knock against each other in the course of his cogitations, he would -leer about, with a glance in which shrewdness certainly predominated -over idiotcy, or would loll his tongue forth from his mouth, and, -shutting one of his eyes, would make the other take the whole circuit -of the earth and sky around him, as if he were mocking the universe -itself; and then, at last, burst out into a long, shrill, ringing -laugh, by the tone of which it was difficult to tell whether it -proceeded from pain or from mirth.</p> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<h3>CHAPTER VI.</h3> -<br> - -<p class="continue">The hermit was as good as his word; and in two days De Coucy, though -certainly unable to forget that he had had a severe fall, was yet -perfectly capable of mounting on horseback; and felt that, in the -field or at the tournament, he could still have charged a good lance, -or wielded a heavy mace. The night before, had arrived at the chapel -the strange personage, some of whose cogitations we have recorded in -the preceding chapter; and who, having been ransomed by the young -knight in the holy land, had become in some sort his bondsman.</p> - -<p class="normal">On a mistaken idea of his folly, De Coucy had built a still more -mistaken idea of his honesty, attributing his faults to madness, and -in the carelessness of his nature, looking upon many of his madnesses -as virtues. That his intellect was greatly impaired, or rather warped, -there can be no doubt; but it seemed, at the same time, that all the -sense which he had left, had concentrated itself into an unfathomable -fund of villany and malice, often equally uncalled for by others, and -unserviceable to himself.</p> - -<p class="normal">Originally one of the jugglers who had accompanied the second crusade -to the Holy Land, he had been made prisoner by the infidels; and, -after several years' bondage, had been redeemed by De Coucy, who, from -mere compassion, treated him with the greater favour and kindness, -because he was universally hated and avoided by every one; though, to -say the truth, <i>Gallon the fool</i>, as he was called, was perfectly -equal to hold his own part, being vigorous in no ordinary degree, -expert at all weapons, and joining all the thousand tricks and arts of -his ancient profession, to the sly cunning which so often supplies the -place of judgment.</p> - -<p class="normal">When brought into his lord's presence at the chapel of the Lake, and -informed of the accident which had happened to him, without expressing -any concern, he burst into one of his wild laughs, exclaiming, "Haw, -haw, haw!--Oh, rare!"</p> - -<p class="normal">"How now. Sir Gallon the fool!" cried De Coucy. "Do you laugh at your -lord's misfortune?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"Nay! I laugh to think him nearly as nimble as I am," replied the -juggler, "and to find he can roll down a rock of twenty fathom, -without dashing his brains out. Why, thou art nearly good enough for a -minstrel's fool. Sire de Coucy!--Haw, haw, haw! How I should like to -see thee tumbling before a <i>cour plenière!</i>";</p> - -<p class="normal">The knight shook his fist at him, and bade him tell the success of his -errand, feeling more galled by the jongleur's jest before the fair -Isadore of the Mount, than he had ever felt upon a similar occasion.</p> - -<p class="normal">"The success of my errand is very unsuccessful," replied the jongleur, -wagging his nose, and shutting one of his eyes, while he fixed the -other on De Coucy's face. "Your uncle, Count Gaston of Tankerville, -will not send you a livre."</p> - -<p class="normal">"What! is he pinched with avarice?" cried De Coucy. "Have ten years -had power to change a free and noble spirit to the miser's griping -slavery? My curse upon time! for he not only saps our castles, and -unbends out sinews, but he casts down the bulwarks of the mind, and -plunders all the better feelings of our hearts. What say you, lady, is -he not a true coterel--that old man with his scythe and hour-glass?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"He is a bitter enemy, but a true one," replied Isadore of the Mount. -"He comes not upon us without warning.--But your man seems impatient -to tell out his tale, sir knight; at least, so I read the faces he -makes."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Bless your sweet lips!" cried the jongleur; "you are the first, that -ever saw my face, that called me man. <i>Devil</i> or <i>fool</i> are the best -names that I get. Prithee, marry my master, and then I shall be <i>your</i> -man."</p> - -<p class="normal">De Coucy's heart beat thick at the associations which the juggler's -words called up; and the tell-tale blood stole over the fair face of -Isadore of the Mount; while old Sir Julian laughed loud, and called it -a marvellous good jest.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Come!" cried De Coucy, "leave thy grimaces, and tell me, what said my -uncle? Why would he not send the sums I asked?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"He said nothing," replied the juggler. "Haw, haw haw!--He said -nothing, because he is dead, and----"</p> - -<p class="normal">"Hold! hold!" cried De Coucy;--"Dead! God help me, and I taxed him -with avarice. Fool, thou hast made me sin against his memory. How did -he die?--when--where?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"Nobody knows when--nobody knows where--nobody knows how!" replied the -juggler with a grin which he could not suppress at his master's grief. -"All they know is, that he is as dead as the saints at Jerusalem; and -the king and the Duke of Burgundy are quarrelling about his broad -lands, which the two fools call moveables! He is dead!--quite -dead!--Haw, haw, haw! Haw, haw!"</p> - -<p class="normal">"Laughest thou, villain!" cried De Coucy, starting up, and striking -him a buffet which made him reel to the other side of the hut. "Let -that teach thee not to laugh where other men weep!--By my life," he -added, taking his seat again, "he was as noble a gentlemen, and as -true a knight, as ever buckled on spurs. He promised that I should be -his heir, and doubtless he has kept his word; but, for all the fine -lands he has left me--nay, nor for broad France itself, would I have -heard the news that have reached me but now!"</p> - -<p class="normal">"Haw, haw, haw! Haw, haw, haw!" echoed from the other side of the hut.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Why laughest thou, fool?" cried De Coucy. "Wilt thou never cease thy -idiot merriment?--Why laughest thou, I say?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"Because," replied the jongleur, "if the fair lands thou wouldst not -have, the fair lands thou shalt not have. The good Count of -Tankerville left neither will nor charter; so that, God willing! the -king, or the Duke of Burgundy, shall have the lands, whichever has the -longest arm to take, and the strongest to keep. So the Vidame of -Besançon bade me say."</p> - -<p class="normal">"But how is it, my son," said the hermit, who was present, "that you -are not heir direct to your uncle's feof, if there be no other heirs."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Why, good hermit," replied De Coucy, "uncle and nephew were but names -of courtesy between us, because we loved each other. The Count de -Tankerville married my father's sister, who died childless; and his -affection seemed to settle all in me, then just an orphan. I left him -some ten years ago, when but a squire, to take the holy cross; and -though I have often heard of him by letter and by message sent across -the wide seas, which showed that I was not forgotten, I now return and -find him dead, and his lands gone to others. Well! let them go: 'tis -not for them I mourn; 'tis that I have lost the best good friend I -had."</p> - -<p class="normal">"You wrong my regard, De Coucy," said the Count d'Auvergne. "None is or -was more deeply your friend than Thibalt d'Auvergne; and as to lands -and gold, good knight, is not one half of all I have due to the man -who has three times saved my life?--in the shipwreck, in the -battle-field, and in the mortal plague; even were he not my sworn -brother in arms?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"Nay, nay! D'Auvergne, De Coucy's poor," replied the knight; "but he -has enough. He is proud too, and, as you know, no Vavassour; and, -though his lands be small, he is lord of the soil, holding from no -one, owing homage and man-service to none--no, not to the king, though -you smile, fair Sir Julian. My land is the last <i>terre libre</i> in -France."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Send away your fool juggler, De Coucy," said the Count d'Auvergne: "I -would speak to you without his goodly presence."</p> - -<p class="normal">De Coucy made a sign to his strange attendant, who quitted the hut; -and the count proceeded. "De Coucy," said he, "was it wise to send -that creature upon an errand of such import? Can you rely upon his -tale? You know him to be a crackbrained knave. I am sure he has much -malice; and though little understanding, yet infinite cunning. Take my -advice! Either go thither yourself, or send some more trusty messenger -to ascertain the truth."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Not I!" cried De Coucy,--"not I! I will neither go nor send, to make -the good folks scoff, at the poor De Coucy hankering after estates he -cannot have; like a beggar standing by a rich man's kitchen, and -snuffing the dishes as they pass him by. Besides, you do Gallon wrong. -He is brave as a lion, and grateful for kindness. He would not injure -me; and if he would, he has not wit to frame a tale like that. He knew -not that I was not my uncle's lawful heir. Oh, no, 'tis true! 'tis -true! So let it rest. What care I? I have my lance, and my sword, and -knightly spurs; and surely I may thus go through the world, in spite -of fortune."</p> - -<p class="normal">D'Auvergne saw that his friend was determined, and urged his point no -farther. His own determination, however, was taken, on the very first -opportunity to go himself privately, either to Besançon or Dijon, -between which places the estates in question lay, and to make those -inquiries for his friend which De Coucy was not inclined to do -himself. Nothing more occurred that night worthy of notice; and the -next morning the whole party descended to the shepherd's hut, where -their horses had been left, mounted, and proceeded towards Vic le -Comte, the dwelling of the Counts of Auvergne.</p> - -<p class="normal">The hermit, whose skill had been so serviceable to De Coucy, mounted -on a strong mule, accompanied them on their way.</p> - -<p class="normal">"I will crave your escort, gentle knights," he said, as they were -about to depart. "I am called back against my will, to meddle with the -affairs of men--affairs which their own wilful obstinacy, their vile -passions, or their gross follies, ever so entangle, that it needs the -manifest hand of Heaven to lead them even through one short life. I -thought to have done with them; but the king calls for me, and, next -to Heaven, my duty is to him."</p> - -<p class="normal">"What! do we see the famous hermit of the forest of Vincennes?"<a name="div4Ref_09" href="#div4_09"><sup>[9]</sup></a> -demanded old sir Julian of the Mount, "by whose sage counsels 'tis -hoped that Philip may yet be saved from driving his poor vassals to -resistance."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Famous, and a hermit!" exclaimed the recluse. "Good, my son! if you -sought fame as little as I do, you would not have come from the -borders of Flanders to the heart of Auvergne. I left Vincennes to rid -myself of the fame they put on me;--you quitted your castle and your -peasants, to meddle in affairs you are not fit for. Would you follow -my counsel, you would forget your evil errand. See your friend--but as -a friend; and, returning to your hall, sit down in peace and charity -with all mankind!"</p> - -<p class="normal">"Ha! what! how?" cried the obstinate old man angrily, all his -complaisant feelings towards the hermit turned into acrimony by this -unlucky speech. "Shall I be turned from my purpose by an old -enthusiast? I tell thee, hermit, that were it but because thou bidst -me not, I would go on to the death! Heaven's life! What I have said, -that I will do, is as immoveable as the centre!"</p> - -<p class="normal">The Count d'Auvergne here interposed; and, promising the hermit safe -escort, at least through his father's territories, he led Sir Julian -to the front of the cavalcade, and engaged him in a detail of all the -important measures which Philip Augustus, during the last five years, -had undertaken, and successfully carried through by the advice of that -very hermit who followed in their train--measures with which this -history has nothing to do, but which may be found faithfully recorded -by Rigord, Wilham the Briton, and William of Nangis, as well as many -other veracious historians of that age and country.</p> - -<p class="normal">Sir Julian and the count were followed by the fair Isadore, with De -Coucy by her side, in even a more gay and lively mood than ordinary, -notwithstanding the sad news he had heard the night before. Indeed, to -judge from his conduct then, it would have seemed that his mind was -one of those which, deeply depressed by any of those heavy weights -that time is always letting drop upon the human heart, rise up the -next moment with that sort of elastic rebound, which instantly casts -off the load of care, and spring higher than before. Such, however, -was not the case. De Coucy was perplexed with new sensations towards -Isadore, the nature of which he did not well understand; and, rather -than show his embarrassment, he spoke lightly of every thing, making -himself appear to the least advantage, where, in truth, he wished the -most to please.</p> - -<p class="normal">Isadore's answers were brief, and he felt that he was not at all in -the right road to her favour: and yet he was going on, when something -accidentally turned the conversation to the friend he had lost in the -Count de Tankerville. Happily for Isadore's prepossession in the young -knight's favour, it did so; for then, all the deeper, all the finer -feelings of his heart awoke, and he spoke of high qualities and -generous virtues, as one who knew them from possessing them himself. -Isadore's answers grew longer: the chain seemed taken off her -thoughts,--and then, first, that quick and confident communication of -feelings and ideas began between her and De Coucy, which, sweet -itself, generally ends in something sweeter still. They were soon -entirely occupied with each other, and might have continued so, Heaven -knows how long! had not De Coucy's squire, Hugo de Barre, who, as -before, preceded the cavalcade, suddenly stopped, and, pointing to a -confused mass of bushes which, climbing the side of the hill, hid the -farther progress of the road, exclaimed--</p> - -<p class="normal">"I see those bushes, move the contrary way to the wind!"</p> - -<p class="normal">"Haw, haw, haw!" cried a voice from behind,--"haw, haw, haw!"</p> - -<p class="normal">All was now hurry, for the signs and symptoms which the squire -descried, were only attributable to one of those plundering -ambuscades, which were any thing but rare in those good old times; and -the narrowness of road, together with the obstruction of the bushes, -totally prevented the knights from estimating the number or quality of -their enemies. All then was hurry. The squires hastened forward to -give the knights their heavy-armed horses, and to clasp their casques; -and the knights vociferated loudly for the archers and varlets to -advance, and for Isadore and her women to retire to the rear: but -before this could be done, a flight of arrows began to drop amongst -them, and one would have certainly struck the lady, or at least her -jennet, had it not been for the shield of De Coucy, raised above her -head.</p> - -<p class="normal">De Coucy paused. "Take my shield," he cried, "Gallon the fool, and -hold it over the lady! Guard my lance too! There is no tilting against -those bushes!--St. Michael! St. Michael!" he shouted, snatching his -ponderous battle-axe from the saddle-bow, and flourishing it round his -head, as if it had been a willow-wand. "A Coucy! A Coucy! St. Michael! -St. Michael!" and while the archers of Auvergne shot a close sharp -flight of arrows into the bushes, De Coucy spurred on his horse after -the Count d'Auvergne, who had advanced with Sir Julian of the Mount, -and some of the light armed squires.</p> - -<p class="normal">His barbed horse thundered over the ground, and in an instant he was -by their side, at a spot where the marauders had drawn a heavy iron -chain across the road, from behind which they numbered with their -arrows every seemingly feeble spot in the count's armour.</p> - -<p class="normal">To leap the chain was impossible; and though Count Thibalt spurred his -heavy horse against it, to bear it down, all his efforts were -ineffectual. One blow of De Coucy's axe, however, and the chain flew -sharp asunder with a ringing sound. His horse bounded forward; and his -next blow lighted on the head of one of the chief marauders, cleaving -through steel cap, and skull, and brain, as if nothing had been -opposed to the axe's edge.</p> - -<p class="normal">It was then one might see how were performed those marvellous feats of -chivalry, which astonish our latter age. The pikes, the short swords, -and the arrows of the cotereaux, turned from the armour of the -knights, as waves from a rock; while De Coucy, animated with the -thought that Isadore's eyes looked upon his deeds, out-acted all his -former prowess;--not a blow fell from his arm, but the object of it -lay prostrate in the dust. The cotereaux scattered before him, like -chaff before the wind. The Count d'Auvergne followed on his track, -and, with the squires, drove the whole body of marauders, which had -occupied the road, down into the valley; while the archers picked off -those who had stationed themselves on the hill.</p> - -<p class="normal">For an instant, the cotereaux endeavoured to rally behind some bushes, -which rendered the movements of the horses both dangerous and -difficult; but at that moment a loud ringing "Haw, haw, haw! haw, -haw!" burst forth from behind them; and Gallon the fool, mounted on -his mare, armed with De Coucy's lance and shield, and a face whose -frightfulness was worth a host, pricked in amongst them; and, to use -the phrase of the times, enacted prodigies of valour, shouting between -each stroke, "Haw, haw! haw, haw!" with such a tone of fiendish -exultation, that De Coucy himself could hardly help thinking him akin -to Satan. As to the cotereaux, the generality of them believed in his -diabolical nature with the most implicit faith; and, shouting "The -devil!--The devil!" as soon as they saw him, fled in every direction, -by the rocks, the woods, and the mountains. One only stayed to aim an -arrow at him, exclaiming, "Devil! he's no devil, but a false traitor -who has brought us to the slaughter, and I will have his heart's blood -ere I die." But Gallon, by one of his strange and unaccountable -twists, avoided the shaft; and the coterel was fain to save himself by -springing up a steep rock with all the agility of fear.</p> - -<p class="normal">No sooner was this done, than Gallon the fool, with that avaricious -propensity, to which persons in a state of intellectual weakness are -often subject, sprang from his mare, and very irreverently casting -down De Coucy's lance and shield, began plundering the bodies of two -of the dead cotereaux, leaving them not a rag which he could -appropriate to himself.</p> - -<p class="normal">Seeing him in this employment, and the disrespectful treatment which -he showed his arms, De Coucy spurred up to him, and raised his -tremendous axe above his head: "Gallon!" cried he, in a voice of -thunder.</p> - -<p class="normal">The jongleur looked up with a grin, "Haw, haw! haw, haw!" cried he, -seeing the battle-axe swinging above his head, as if in the very act -of descending. "You cannot make me wink.--Haw, haw!" And he applied -himself again to strip the dead bodies with most indefatigable -perseverance.</p> - -<p class="normal">"If it were not for your folly, I would cleave your skull, for daring -to use my lance and shield!" cried De Coucy. "But, get up! get up!" he -added, striking him a pretty severe blow with the back of the axe. -"Lay not there, like a red-legged crow, picking the dead bodies. Where -is the lady? Why did you leave her, when I told you to stay?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"I left the lady, with her maidens, in a snug hole in the rock," -replied the juggler, rising unwillingly from his prey; "and seeing you -at work with the cotereaux, I came to help the strongest."</p> - -<p class="normal">There might be more truth in this reply than De Coucy suspected; but, -taken as a jest, it turned away his anger; and bidding Hugo de Barre, -who had approached, bring his spear and shield, he rode back to the -spot where the combat first began. Gallon the fool had, indeed, as he -said, safely bestowed Isadore and her women in one of the caves with -which the mountains of Auvergne are pierced in every direction; and -here De Coucy found her, together with her father. Sir Julian, who was -babbling of an arrow which had passed through his tunic without -hurting him.</p> - -<p class="normal">The Count d'Auvergne had gone, in the mean time, to ascertain that the -road was entirely cleared of the banditti; and, during his absence, -the lady and her attendants applied themselves to bind up the wounds -of one or two of the archers who had been hurt in the affray--a purely -female task, according to the customs of the times. The hermit -returned with the Count d'Auvergne; and, though he spoke not of it, it -was remarked that an arrow had grazed his brow; and two rents in his -brown robe seemed to indicate that, though he had taken no active part -in the struggle, he had not shunned its dangers.</p> - -<p class="normal">Such skirmishes were so common in those days, that the one we speak of -would have been scarcely worth recording, had it not been for two -circumstances: in the first place, the effect produced upon the -robbers by the strange appearance and gestures of Gallon the fool; and -in the next, the new link which it brought between the hearts of -Isadore and De Coucy. In regard to the first, it must be remembered -that the appearance of all sorts of evil spirits in an incarnate form -was so very frequent in the times whereof we speak, that Rigord cites -at least twenty instances thereof, and Guillaume de Nangis brings a -whole troop of them into the very choir of the church. It is not to be -wondered at, then, that a band of superstitious marauders, whose very -trade would of course render them more liable to such diabolical -visitations, should suspect so very ugly a personage as Gallon of -being the Evil One himself: especially when to his various -unaccountable contortions he added the very devil-like act of leading -them into a scrape, and then triumphing in their defeat.</p> - -<p class="normal">But to return to the more respectable persons of my cavalcade. The -whole party set out again, retaining, as if by common consent, the -same order of march which they had formerly preserved. Nor did -Isadore, though as timid and feminine as any of her sex in that day, -show greater signs of fear than a hasty glance, every now and then, to -the mountains. A slight shudder, too, shook her frame, as she passed -on the road three cold, inanimate forms, lying unlike the living, and -bearing ghastly marks of De Coucy's battle-axe; but the very sight -made her draw her rein towards him, as if from some undefined -combination in her mind of her own weakness and his strength; and from -the tacit admiration which courage and power command in all ages, but -which, in those times, suffered no diminution on the score of -humanity.</p> - -<p class="normal">No lady, of the rank of Isadore of the Mount, ever travelled, in the -days we speak of, without a bevy of maidens following her; and as the -squires and pages of De Coucy and D'Auvergne were fresh from -Palestine, where women were hot-house plants, not exposed to common -eyes, it may be supposed that we could easily join to our principal -history many a rare and racy episode of love-making that went on in -the second rank of our pilgrims; but we shall have enough to do with -the personages already before us, ere we lay down our pen, and -therefore shall not meddle or make with the manners of the inferior -classes, except where they are absolutely forced on our notice.</p> - -<p class="normal">Winding down through numerous sunny valleys and rich and beautiful -scenery, the cavalcade soon began to descend upon the fertile plains -of Limagne, then covered with the blossoms of a thousand trees, and -bathed in a flood of loveliness. The ferry over the Allier soon landed -them in the sweet valley of Vic le Comte; and Thibalt d'Auvergne, -gazing round him, forgot in the view all the agonies of existence; -while stretching forth his arms, as if to embrace it, he -exclaimed--"My native land!"</p> - -<p class="normal">He had seen the south of Auvergne; he had seen, the mountains of D'Or, -and the Puy de Dome,--all equally his own; but they spoke but -generally to his heart, and could not for a moment wipe out his -griefs. But when the scenes of his childhood broke upon his sight; -when he beheld every thing mingled in memory with the first, sweetest -impressions in being--every thing he had known and joyed in, before -existence had a cloud, it seemed as if the last five years had been -blotted out of the Book of Fate, and that he was again in the -brightness of his youth--the youth of the heart and of the soul, ere -it is worn by sorrow, or hardened by treachery, or broken by -disappointment.</p> - -<p class="normal">The valley of Vic is formed by two branches of the mountains of the -Forez, which bound it to the east; and in the centre of the rich plain -land thus enclosed, stands the fair city of Vic le Comte. It was then -as sweet a town as any in the realm of France; and, gathered together -upon a gentle slope, with the old castle on a high mound behind, it -formed a dark pyramid in the midst of the sunshiny valley, being cast -into temporary shadow by a passing cloud at the moment the cavalcade -approached; while the bright light of the summer evening poured over -all the rest of the scene; and the blue mountains, rising high beyond, -offered a soft and airy background to the whole. Avoiding the town. -Count Thibalt led the way round by a road to the right, and, in a few -minutes, they were opposite to the castle, at the distance of about -half a mile.</p> - -<p class="normal">It was a large, heavy building, consisting of an infinite number of -towers, of various sizes, and of different forms--some round, some -square, all gathered together, without any apparent order, on the top -of an eminence which commanded the town. The platform of each tower, -whether square or round, was battlemented, and every angle which -admitted of such a contrivance was ornamented with a small turret or -watch-tower, which generally rose somewhat higher than the larger one -to which it was attached. Near the centre of the building, however, -rose two masses of masonry, distinguished from all the others,--the -one by its size, being a heavy, square tower, or keep, four times as -large as any of the rest; and the other by its height, rising, thin -and tall, far above every surrounding object. This was called the -beffroy, or belfry, and therein stood a watchman night and day, ready, -on the slightest alarm, to sound his horn, or ring the immense bell, -called <i>ban cloque</i>, which was suspended above his head.</p> - -<p class="normal">From the gate of the castle to the walls of the town extended a gentle -green slope, which, now covered with tents and booths, resembled -precisely an English fair; and from the spot where D'Auvergne and his -companions stood, multitudes of busy beings could be seen moving -there, in various garbs and colours, some on horseback, some on foot, -giving great liveliness to the scene; while the unutterable multitude -of weathercocks, with which every pinnacle of the castle was adorned, -fluttered, in addition, with a thousand flags, and banners, and -streamers, in gay and sparkling confusion.</p> - -<p class="normal">Before the cavalcade had made a hundred steps beyond the angle of the -town, which had concealed them from the castle, the eyes of the warder -fell upon them; and, in an instant, a loud and clamorous blast of the -trumpet issued from the belfry. It was instantly taken up by a whole -band in the castle court-yard.</p> - -<p class="normal">D'Auvergne knew his welcome home, and raised his horn to his lips in -reply. At the same instant, every archer in his train, by an -irresistible impulse, followed their lord's example. Each man's home -was before him, and they blew together, in perfect unison, the famous -<i>Bienvenu Auvergnat</i>, till the walls, and the towers, and the hills -echoed to the sound.</p> - -<p class="normal">At that moment the gates of the castle were thrown open, and a gallant -train of horsemen issued forth, and galloped down towards our -pilgrims. At their head was an old man richly dressed in crimson and -gold. The fire of his eye was unquenched, the rose of his cheek -unpaled, and the only effect of seventy summers to be seen upon him -was the snowy whiteness of his hair. D'Auvergne's horse flew like the -wind to meet him. The old man and the young one sprang to the ground -together. The father clasped his child to his heart, and weeping on -his iron shoulder, exclaimed, "My son! my son!"</p> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<h3>CHAPTER VII.</h3> -<br> - -<p class="continue">Let us suppose the welcome given to all, and the guests within the -castle of the Count d'Auvergne, who, warned by messengers of his son's -approach, had called his <i>cour plenière</i> to welcome the return.</p> - -<p class="normal">It was one of those gay and lively scenes now seldom met with, where -pageant, and splendour, and show were unfettered by cold form and -ceremony. The rigid etiquette, which in two centuries after enchained -every movement of the French court, was then unknown. Titles of honour -rose no higher than Beau Sire, or Monseigneur, and these even were -applied more as a mark of reverence for great deeds and splendid -virtues, than for wealth and hereditary rank. All was gay and free, -and though respect was shown to age and station, it was the respect of -an early and unsophisticated age, before the free-will offering of the -heart to real dignity and worth had been regulated by the cold -rigidity of a law. Yet each person in that day felt his own station, -struggled for none that was not his due, and willingly paid the -tribute of respect to the grade above his own.</p> - -<p class="normal">Through the thousand chambers and the ten thousand passages of the -château of Vic le Comte, ran backwards and forwards pages, and -varlets, and squires, in proportion to the multitude of guests. Each -of these attendants, though performing what would be now considered -the menial offices of personal service, to the various knightly and -noble visiters, was himself of noble birth, and aspirant to the -honours of chivalry. Nor was this the case alone at the courts of -sovereign princes like the Count D'Auvergne. Parents of the highest -rank were in that age happy to place their sons in the service of the -poorest knight, provided that his own exploits gave warranty that he -would breed them up to deeds of honour and glory. It was a sort of -apprenticeship to chivalry.</p> - -<p class="normal">All these choice attendants, for the half-hour after Count Thibalt's -return, hurried, as we have said, from chamber to chamber, offering -their services, and aiding the knights who had come to welcome their -young lord, to unbuckle their heavy armour, without the defence of -which, the act of travelling, especially in Auvergne, was rash and -dangerous. Multitudes of fresh guests were also arriving every -moment--fair dames and gallant knights, vassals and vavassours;--some -followed by a gay train; some bearing nothing but lance and sword; -some carrying themselves their lyre, without which, if known as -troubadours, they never journeyed; and some accompanied by whole -troops of minstrels, jugglers, fools, rope-dancers, and mimics, whom -they brought along with them out of compliment to their feudal chief, -towards whose <i>cour plenière</i> they took their way.</p> - -<p class="normal">Numbers of these buffoons also were scattered amongst the tents and -booths, which we have mentioned, on the outside of the castle-gate; -and here, too, were merchants and pedlars of all kinds, who had -hurried to Vic le Comte with inconceivable speed, on the very first -rumour of a <i>cour plenière</i>. In one booth might be seen cloth of gold -and silver, velvets, silks, cendals, and every kind of fine stuffs; in -another, ermines, miniver, and all sorts of furs. Others, again, -displayed silver cups and vessels, with golden ornaments for clasping -the mantles of the knights and ladies, called <i>fermailles</i>; and again, -others exhibited cutlery and armour of all kinds; Danish battle-axes, -casques of Poitiers, Cologne swords, and Rouen hauberts. Neither was -noise wanting. The laugh, the shout, the call, within and without the -castle walls, was mingled with the sound of a thousand instruments, -from the flute to the hurdy-gurdy; while, at the same time, every -point of the scene was fluttering and alive, whether with gay dresses -and moving figures, or pennons, flags, and banners on the walls and -pinnacles of the château.</p> - -<p class="normal">Precisely at the hour of four, a band of minstrels, richly clothed, -placed themselves before the great gate of the castle, and performed -what was called <i>corner à l'eau</i>, which gave notice to every one that -the banquet was about to be placed upon the table. At that sound, all -the knights and ladies left the chambers to which they had first been -marshalled, and assembled in one of the vast halls of the castle, -where the pages offered to each a silver basin and napkin, to wash -their hands previous to the meal.</p> - -<p class="normal">At this part of the ceremony De Coucy, Heaven knows how! found himself -placed by the side of Isadore of the Mount; and he would willingly -have given a buffet to the gay young page who poured the water over -her fair hands, and who looked up in her face with so saucy and -page-like a grin, that Isadora could not but smile, while she thanked -him for his service.</p> - -<p class="normal">The old Count d'Auvergne stood speaking with his son; and, while he -welcomed the various guests as they passed before him with word and -glance, he still resumed his conversation with Count Thibalt. Nor did -that conversation seem of the most pleasing character; for his brow -appeared to catch the sadness of his son's, from which the light of -joy, that his return had kindled up, had now again passed away.</p> - -<p class="normal">"If your knightly word be pledged, my son," said the old count, as the -horns again sounded to table, "no fears of mine shall stay you; but I -had rather you had sworn to beard the Soldan on his throne, than that -which you have undertaken." The conversation ended with a sigh, and -the guests were ushered to the banquet-hall.</p> - -<p class="normal">It was one of those vast chambers, of which few remain to the present -day. One, however, may still be seen at La Brède, the château of the -famous Montesquieu, of somewhat the same dimensions. It was eighty -feet in length, by fifty in breadth; and the roof, of plain dark oak, -rose from walls near thirty feet high, and met in the form of a -pointed arch in the centre. Neither columns nor pilasters ornamented -the sides; but thirty complete suits of mail, with sword, and spear, -and shield, battle-axe, mace, and dagger, hung against each wall; and -over every suit projected a banner, either belonging to the house of -Auvergne, or won by some of its members in the battle-field. The floor -was strewed thickly with green leaves; and on each space left vacant -on the wall by the suits of armour was hung a large branch of oak, -covered with its foliage. From such simple decorations, bestowed upon -the hall itself, no one would have expected to behold a board laid out -with as much splendour and delicacy as the most scrupulous gourmand of -the present day could require to give savour to his repast.</p> - -<p class="normal">The table, which extended the whole length of the hall, was covered -with fine damask linen--a manufacture the invention of which, though -generally attributed to the seventeenth century, is of infinitely -older date. Long benches, covered with tapestry, extended on each side -of the table; and the place of every guest was marked, even as in the -present times, by a small round loaf of bread, covered with a fine -napkin, embroidered with gold. By the side of the bread lay a knife, -though the common girdle dagger often saved the lord of the mansion -the necessity of providing his guests with such implements. To this -was added a spoon, of silver; but forks there were none, their first -mention in history being in the days of Charles the Fifth of France.</p> - -<p class="normal">A row of silver cups also ornamented both sides of the board; the -first five on either hand being what were called <i>hanaps</i>, which -differed from the others in being raised upon a high stem, after the -fashion of the chalice. Various vases of water and of wine, some of -silver, some of crystal, were distributed in different parts of the -table, fashioned for the most part in strange and fanciful forms, -representing dragons, castles, ships, and even men, and an immense -mass of silver and gold, in the different shapes of plates and -goblets, blazed upon two buffets, or <i>dressoirs</i>, as they are called -by Helenor de Poitiers, placed at the higher part of the hall, near -the seat of the count himself.</p> - -<p class="normal">Thus far, the arrangements differed but little from those of our own -times. What was to follow, however, was somewhat more in opposition to -the ideas of the present day. The doors of the hall were thrown open, -and the splendid train of knights and ladies, which the <i>cour -plenière</i> had assembled, entered to the banquet. The Count d'Auvergne -first took his place in a chair with <i>dossier</i> and <i>dais</i>, as it was -particularised in those days, or, in other words, high raised back and -canopy. He then proceeded to arrange what was called the <i>assiette</i> of -the table; namely, that very difficult task of placing those persons -together whose minds and qualities were best calculated to assimilate: -a task, on the due execution of which the pleasure of such meetings -must ever depend, but which will appear doubly delicate, when we -remember that then each knight and lady, placed side by side, ate from -the same plate, and drank from the same cup.</p> - -<p class="normal">That sort of quick perception of proprieties, which we now call -<i>tact</i>, belongs to no age; and the Count d'Auvergne, in the thirteenth -century, possessed it in a high degree. All his guests were satisfied, -and De Coucy drank out of the same cup as Isadora of the Mount.</p> - -<p class="normal">They were deliriating draughts he drank, and he now began to feel that -he had never loved before. The glance of her bright eye, the touch of -her small hand, the sound of her soft voice, seemed something new, and -strange, and beautiful to him; and he could hardly fancy that he had -known any thing like it ere then. The scene was gay and lovely; and -there were all those objects and sounds around which excite the -imagination and make the heart beat high,--glitter, and splendour, and -wine, and music, and smiles, and beauty, and contagious happiness. The -gay light laugh, the ready jest, the beaming look, the glowing cheek, -the animated speech, the joyous tale, were there; and ever and anon, -through the open doors, burst a wild swelling strain of horns and -flutes--rose for a moment over every other sound, and then died away -again into silence.</p> - -<p class="normal">What words De Coucy said, and how those words were said; and what -Isadore felt, and how she spoke it not, we will leave to the -imagination of those who may have been somewhat similarly situated. -Nor will we farther prolong the description of the banquet--a -description perhaps too far extended already--by detailing all the -various yellow soups and green, the storks, the peacocks, and the -boars; the castles that poured forth wine, and the pyramids of fifty -capons, which from time to time covered the table. We have already -shown all the remarkable differences between a banquet of that age and -one given in our own, and also some of the still more remarkable -similarities.</p> - -<p class="normal">At last, when the rays of the sun, which had hitherto poured through -the high windows on the splendid banquet-table, so far declined as no -longer to reach it, the old Count d'Auvergne filled his cup with wine, -and raised his hand as a sign to the minstrels behind his chair, when -suddenly they blew a long loud flourish on their trumpets, and then -all was silent. "Fair knights and ladies!" said the count, "before we -go to hear our troubadours beneath our ancient oaks, I once more bid -you welcome all; and though here be none but true and valiant knights, -to each of whom I could well wish to drink, yet there is one present -to whom Auvergne owes much, and whom I--old as I am in arms--pronounce -the best knight in France. Victor of Ascalon and Jaffa; five times -conqueror of the infidel, in ranged battle; best lance at Zara, and -first planter of a banner on the imperial walls of Byzantium--but more -to me than all--saviour of my son's life--Sir Guy de Coucy, good -knight and true, I drink to your fair honour!--do me justice in my -cup:" and the count, after having raised his golden <i>hanap</i> to his -lips, sent it round by a page to De Coucy.</p> - -<p class="normal">De Coucy took the cup from the page, and with a graceful abnegation of -the praises bestowed upon him, pledged the father of his friend. But -the most remarkable circumstance of the ceremony was, that it was -Isadore's cheek that flushed, and Isadore's lip that trembled, at the -great and public honour shown to De Coucy, as if the whole -embarrassment thereof had fallen upon herself.</p> - -<p class="normal">The guests now rose, and, led by the Count d'Auvergne, proceeded to -the forest behind the château, where, under the great feudal oak, at -whose foot all the treaties and alliances of Auvergne were signed, -they listened to the songs of the various troubadours, many of whom -were found amongst the most noble of the knights present.</p> - -<p class="normal">We are so accustomed to look upon all the details of the age of -chivalry as fabulous, that we can scarcely figure to ourselves men -whose breasts were the mark and aim of every danger, whose hands were -familiar with the lance and sword, and whose best part of life was -spent in battle and bloodshed, suddenly casting off their armour, and -seated under the shadow of an oak, singing lays of love and tenderness -in one of the softest and most musical languages of the world. Yet so -it was, and however difficult it may be to transport our mind to such -a scene, and call up the objects as distinct and real, yet history -leaves no doubt of the fact, that the most daring warriors of -Auvergne--and Auvergne was celebrated for bold and hardy spirits--were -no less famous as troubadours than knights; and, as they sat round the -count, they, one after another, took the citharn, or the rote, and -sung with a slight monotonous accompaniment one of the sweet lays of -their country.</p> - -<p class="normal">There is only one, however, whom we shall particularise. He was a -slight fair youth, of a handsome but somewhat feminine aspect. -Nevertheless, he wore the belt and spurs of a knight; and by the -richness of his dress, which glittered with gold and crimson, appeared -at least endowed with the gifts of fortune. During the banquet, he had -gazed upon Isadore of the Mount far more than either the lady beside -whom he sat, or De Coucy, admired; and there was a languid and almost -melancholy softness in his eye, which Isadore's lover did not at all -like. When called upon to sing, by the name of the Count de la Roche -Guyon, he took his harp from a page, and sweeping it with a careless -but a confident hand, again fixed his eyes upon Isadore, and sang with -a sweet, full, mellow voice, in the Provençal or Langue d'oc, though -his name seemed to bespeak a more northern extraction.</p> -<div class="poem2"> -<h3>TROUBADOUR'S SONG.</h3> - -<p class="t0" style="text-indent:-10px">"My love, my love, my lady love!</p> -<p class="t1">What can with her compare;</p> -<p class="t0">The orbs of heaven she's far above,</p> -<p class="t1">No flower is half so fair.</p> -<br> -<p class="t0">Her cheeks are like the summer sky,</p> -<p class="t1">Before the sun goes down--</p> -<p class="t0">Faint roses, like the hues that lie</p> -<p class="t1">Beneath night's tresses brown.</p> -<br> -<p class="t0">Her eye itself is like that star,</p> -<p class="t1">Which, sparkling through the sky,</p> -<p class="t0">Lifts up its diamond look afar,</p> -<p class="t1">Just as day's blushes die.</p> -<br> -<p class="t0">Her lip alone, the new born rose;</p> -<p class="t1">Her breath, the breath of spring;</p> -<p class="t0">Her voice is sweet as even those</p> -<p class="t1">Of angels when they sing.</p> -<br> -<p class="t0">A thousand congregated sweets</p> -<p class="t1">Deck her beyond compare;</p> -<p class="t0">And fancy's self no image meets</p> -<p class="t1">So wonderfully fair.</p> -<br> -<p class="t0">I'd give my barony to be</p> -<p class="t1">Beloved for a day:</p> -<p class="t0">But, oh! her heart is not for me!</p> -<p class="t1">Her smile is given away."</p> -</div> - -<p class="normal">"By my faith! she must be a hard-hearted damsel, then!" said old Sir -Julian of the Mount, "if she resist so fair a troubadour.--But, Sir -Guy de Coucy, let not the Langue d'oc carry it off entirely from us of -the Langue d'oyl. So gallant a knight must love the lyre. I pray thee! -sing something, for the honour of our Trouvères."</p> - -<p class="normal">De Coucy would have declined, but the Count Thibalt pressed him to the -task, and named the siege of Constantinople as his theme. At the same -time the young troubadour who had just sung offered him his harp, -saying, "I pray you, beau sire, for the honour of your lady!"</p> - -<p class="normal">De Coucy bowed his head, and took the instrument, over the strings of -which he threw his hand, in a bold but not unskilful manner; and then, -joining his voice, sung the taking of Zara and first siege of -Constantinople; after which he detailed the delights of Greece, and -showed how difficult it was for the knights and soldiers to keep -themselves from sinking into the effeminacy of the Greeks, while -encamped in the neighbourhood of Byzantium, waiting the execution of -their treaty with the Emperor Isaac and his son Alexis. He then spoke -of the assassination of Alexis, the usurpation of Murzuphlis, and the -preparation of the Francs to punish the usurper. His eye flashed; his -tone became more elevated, and drawing his accompaniment from the -lower tones of the instrument, he poured forth an animated description -of the last day of the empire of the Greeks.</p> - -<p class="normal">De Coucy then went on to describe the shining but effeminate display -of the Greek warriors on the walls, and the attack of the city by sea -and land. In glowing language he depicted both the great actions of -the assault and of the defence; the effect of the hell-invented Greek -fire; of the catapults, the mangonels, the darts of flame shot from -the walls; as well as the repeated repulses of the Francs, and the -determined and unconquerable valour with which they pursued their -purpose of punishing the Greeks. Abridging his lay as he went on, he -left out the names of many of the champions, and touched but slightly -on the deeds of others.</p> - -<p class="normal">But with increasing energy at every line, he proceeded to sing the -mixed fight upon the battlements, after the Francs had once succeeded -in scaling them, till the Greeks gave way, and he concluded by -painting the complete triumph of the Francs.</p> - -<p class="normal">All eyes were bent on De Coucy;--all ears listened to his lay. The -language, or rather dialect, in which he sang, the Langue d'oyl, was -not so sweet and harmonious as the Langue d'oc, or Provençal, it is -true, but it had more strength and energy. The subject, also, was more -dignified; and as the young knight proceeded to record the deeds in -which he had himself been a principal actor, his whole soul seemed to -be cast into his song:--his fine features assumed a look between the -animation of the combatant and the inspiration of the poet. It seemed -as if he forgot every thing around, in the deep personal interest -which he felt in the very incidents he recited: his utterance became -more rapid; his hand swept like lightning over the harp; and when he -ended his song, and laid down the instrument, it was as if he did so -but in order to lay his hand upon his sword.</p> - -<p class="normal">A pause of deep silence succeeded for a moment, and then came a -general murmur of applause; for, in singing the deeds of the Francs at -Constantinople, De Coucy touched, in the breast of each person -present, that fine chord called national vanity, by which we attach a -part of every sort of glory, gained by our countrymen, to our own -persons, however much we may recognise that we are incompetent to -perform the actions by which it was acquired.</p> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<h3>CHAPTER VIII.</h3> -<br> - -<p class="continue">The existence of a monarch, without his lot be cast amidst very -halcyon days indeed, is much like the life of a seaman, borne up upon -uncertain and turbulent waves. Exposed to a thousand storms, from -which a peasant's cot would be sufficient shelter, his whole being is -spent in watching for the tempest, and his whole course is at the -mercy of the wind.</p> - -<p class="normal">It was with bitterness of heart, and agony of spirit, that Philip -Augustus saw gathering on the political horizon around many a dark -cloud that threatened him with a renewal of all those fatigues, -anxieties, and pains, from which he had hoped, at least, for some -short respite. He saw it with a wrung and burning bosom, but he saw it -without dismay; for, strong in the resources of a mind above his age, -he resolved to wreak great and signal vengeance on the heads of those -who should trouble his repose; and, knowing that the sorrow must come, -he prepared, as ever with him, to make his revenge a handmaid to his -policy, and, by the punishment of his rebellious vassals, not only to -augment his own domains as a feudal sovereign, but to extend the -general force and prerogative of the crown, and form a large basis of -power on which his successors might build a fabric of much greatness.</p> - -<p class="normal">However clearly he might see the approach of danger, and however -vigorously he might prepare to repel it, Philip was not of that frame -of mind which suffers remote evil long to interfere with present -enjoyment. For a short space he contemplated them painfully, though -firmly; but soon the pain was forgotten, and like a veteran soldier -who knows he may be attacked during the night, and sleeps with his -arms beside him, but still sleeps tranquilly, Philip saw the murmured -threatening of his greater feudatories, and took every means of -preparation against what he clearly perceived would follow: but this -once done, he gave himself up to pleasures and amusements; seeming -anxious to crowd into the short space of tranquillity that was left -him, all the gaieties and enjoyments which might otherwise have been -scattered through many years of peace. Fêtes, and pageants, and -tournaments succeeded each other rapidly; and Philip of France, with -his fair queen, seemed to look upon earth as a garden of smiles, and -life as a long chain of unbroken delights.</p> - -<p class="normal">Yet, even in his pleasures, Philip was politic. He had returned to -Paris, though the summer heat had now completely set in, and June was -far advanced; and sitting in the old palace on the island, he was -placed near one of the windows, through which poured the free air of -the river, while he arranged with his beloved Agnes the ceremonies of -a banquet. Philip was famous for his taste in every sort of pageant; -and now he was giving directions himself to various attendants who -stood round, repeating with the most scrupulous exactness every -particular of his commands, as if the very safety of his kingdom had -depended on their correct execution.</p> - -<p class="normal">While thus employed, his minister Guerin, now elected bishop of -Senlis, though he still, as I have said, retained the garments of the -knights of St. John, entered the apartment, and stood by the side of -the king, while he gave his last orders, and sent the attendants away.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Another banquet, sire!" said the bishop, with that freedom of speech -which in those days was admitted between king and subject; and -speaking in the grave and melancholy tone which converts an -observation into a reproach.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Ay, good brother!" replied Philip, looking up smilingly; "another -banquet in the great <i>salle du palais</i>; and on the tenth of July a -tournament at Champeaux. Sweet Agnes! laugh at his grave face! -Wouldest thou not say, dear lady mine, that I spake to the good bishop -of a defeat and a funeral, instead of a feast and a <i>passe d'armes</i>?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"The defeat of your finances, sire, and the burial of your treasury," -replied Guerin coldly.</p> - -<p class="normal">"I have other finances that you know not of, bishop," replied the -king, still keeping his good humour. "Ay, and a private treasury too, -where gold will not be wanting."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Indeed, my liege!" replied the bishop. "May I crave where?" Philip -touched the hilt of his sword. "Here is an unfailing measure of -finance!" said he; "and as for my treasury, 'tis in the purses of -revolted barons, Guerin!"</p> - -<p class="normal">"If you make use of that treasury, sire," answered the bishop, "for -the good of your state, and the welfare of your people, 'tis indeed -one that may serve you well; but if you spend it----." The bishop -paused, as if afraid of proceeding, and Philip took up the word.</p> - -<p class="normal">"If I spend it, you would say, in feasting and revelry," said the -king, "I shall make the people murmur, and my best friends quit me. -But," continued he in a gayer tone, "let us quit all sad thoughts, and -talk of the feast,--the gay and splendid feast,--where you shall -smile, Guerin, and make the guests believe you the gentlest counsellor -that ever king was blest withal. Nay, I will have it so, by my faith! -As to the guests, they are all choice and gay companions, whom I have -chosen for their merriment. Thou shalt laugh heartily when placed -between Philip of Champagne, late my sworn enemy, but who now becomes -my good friend and humble vassal, and brings his nephew and ward, the -young Thibalt, count of all Champagne, to grace his suzerain's -feast--when placed between him, I say, and Pierre de Courtenay, whose -allegiance is not very sure, and whose brother, the Count of Namur, is -in plain rebellion. There shalt thou see also Bartholemi de Roye, and -the Count de Perche, both somewhat doubtful in their love to Philip, -but who, before that feast is over, shall be his humblest creatures. -Fie, fie, Guerin!" he added, in a more reproachful tone, "will you -never think that I have a deeper motive for my actions than lies upon -the surface? As to the tournament, too, think you I do not propose to -try men's hearts as well as their corslets, and see if their loyalty -hold as firm a seat as they do themselves?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"I never doubt, sire," replied the bishop, "that you have good and -sufficient motives for all your actions; but, this morning, a sad -account has been laid before me of the royal domains; and when I came -to hear of banquets and tournaments, it pained me to think what you, -sire, would feel, when you saw the clear statement."</p> - -<p class="normal">"How so?" cried Philip Augustus. "It cannot be so very bad!--Let me -see it, Guerin!--let me see it. 'Tis best to front such things at -once.--Let me see it, man, I say!"</p> - -<p class="normal">"I have it not here, sire," answered the bishop; "but I will send it -by the clerk who drew it up; and who can give you farther accounts, -should it be necessary."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Quick then!" cried the king,--"quick, good bishop!" And walking up -and down the hall, with an unquiet and somewhat irritated air, he -repeated, "It cannot be so bad! The last time I made the calculation, -'twas somewhere near a hundred thousand livres. Bad enough, in -truth--but I have known that long! Now, sir clerk," he continued, as a -secretary entered, "read me the account, if it be as I see on wax. Was -no parchment to be had, that you must draw the charter on wax<a name="div4Ref_10" href="#div4_10"><sup>[10]</sup></a> to -blind me? Read, read!"</p> - -<p class="normal">The king spoke in the hasty manner of one whose brighter hopes and -wishes--for Imagination is always a great helpmate of Ambition, and as -well as its first prompter, is its indefatigable ally--in the manner -of one whose brighter hopes and wishes had been cut across by cold -realities; and the clerk replied in the dull and snuffling tone -peculiar to clerks, and monstrously irritating to every hasty man.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Accounts of the Prévôt de Soissons, sire," said the clerk: "Receipts: -six hundred livres, seven sous, two deniers. Expenses: eighteen -livres, to arm three cross-bowmen; twenty livres to the holy clerk; -seventy livres for clothing and arming twenty serjeants on foot. -Accounts of the sénéchal of Pontoise," continued the clerk, in the -same slow and solemn manner: "Receipts: five hundred livres, -<i>Parisis</i>. Expenses: thirty-three livres, for wax-tapers for the -church of the blessed St. Millon; twenty-eight sous for the carriage -to Paris of the two living lions, now at the kennel of the -wolf-hounds, without the walls; twenty livres, spent for the robes for -four judges; and baskets for twenty eels--for seventeen young wolves."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Death to my soul!" cried the impatient king: "make an end, man!--come -to the sum total! How much remains?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"Two hundred livres, six sous, one denier," replied the clerk.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Villain, you lie!" cried the enraged monarch, striking him with his -clenched fist, and snatching the tablets from his hand. "What! am I a -beggar? 'Tis false, by the light of heaven!--It cannot be," he added, -as his eye ran over the sad statement of his exhausted finances,--"it -cannot surely be! Go, fellow! bid the bishop of Senlis come -hither! I am sorry that I struck thee. Forget it! Go, bid Guerin -hither,--quick!"</p> - -<p class="normal">While this was passing, Agnes de Meranie had turned to one of the -windows, and was gazing out upon the river and the view beyond. She -would fain have made her escape from the hall, when first she found -the serious nature of the business that had arisen out of the -preparations for the fête; but Philip stood between her and either of -the doors, both while he was speaking with his minister, and while he -was receiving the statement from the clerk; and Agnes did not choose, -by crossing him, to call his attention from his graver occupation. As -soon, however, as the clerk was gone, Philip's eye fell upon her, as -she leaned against the casement, with her slight figure bending in as -graceful an attitude as the Pentelican marble was ever taught to show; -and there was something in her very presence reproved the monarch for -the unworthy passion into which he had been betrayed. When a man loves -deeply, he would fain be a god in the eyes of the woman that he loves, -lest the worship that he shows her should lessen him in his own. -Philip was mortified that she had been present; and lest any thing -equally mortal should escape him while speaking with his minister, he -approached and took her hand.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Agnes," said he, "I have forgot myself; but this tablet has crossed -me sadly," pointing to the statement. "I shall be no longer able to -give festal orders. Go you, sweet! and, in the palace gardens, bid -your maidens strip all the fairest flowers to deck the tables and the -hall----"</p> - -<p class="normal">"They shall spare enough for one crown, at least," replied Agnes, "to -hang on my royal Philip's casque on the tournament-day. But I will -speed, and arrange the flowers myself." Thus saying, she turned away, -with a gay smile, as if nothing had ruffled the current of the time; -and left the monarch expecting thoughtfully the bishop of Senlis's -return.</p> - -<p class="normal">The minister did not make the monarch wait; but he found Philip -Augustus in a very different mood from that in which he left him.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Guerin," said the king, with a grave and careful air, "you have been -my physician, and a wise one. The cup you have given me is bitter, but -'tis wholesome; and I have drunk it to the dregs."</p> - -<p class="normal">"It is ever with the most profound sorrow," said the hospitaller, with -that tone of simple persuasive gravity that carries conviction of its -sincerity along with it, "that I steal one from the few scanty hours -of tranquillity that are allotted to you, sire, in this life. Would it -were compatible with your honour and your kingdom's welfare, that I -should bear all the more burthensome part of the task which royalty -imposes, and that you, sire, should know but its sweets! But that -cannot be; and I am often obliged, as you say, to offer my sovereign a -bitter cup that willingly I would have drunk myself."</p> - -<p class="normal">"I believe you, good friend--from my soul, I believe you!" said the -king. "I have ever observed in you my brother, a self-denying zeal, -which is rare in this corrupted age; or used but as the means of -ambition. Raise not your glance as if you thought I suspected you. -Guerin, I do not! I have watched you well; and had I seen your fingers -itch to close upon the staff of power,--had you but stretched out your -hand towards it,--had you sought to have left me in idle ignorance of -my affairs,--ay! or even sought to weary me of them with eternal -reiteration, you never should have seen the secrets of my heart, as -now you shall--I would have used you Guerin, as an instrument, but you -never would have been my friend. Do you understand me, ha?</p> - -<p class="normal">"I do, royal sir," replied the knight, "and God help me, as my wish -has ever been only to serve you truly!"</p> - -<p class="normal">"Mark me, then, Guerin!" continued the king. "This banquet must go -forward--the tournament also--ay, and perhaps another. Not because I -love to feast my eyes with the grandeur of a king--no, Guerin,--but -because I would be a king indeed! I have often asked myself," -proceeded the monarch, speaking slowly, and, as was sometimes his -wont, laying the finger of his right-hand on the sleeve of the -hospitaller's robe--"I have often asked myself whether a king would -never fill the throne of France, who should find time and occasion -fitting to carry royalty to that grand height where it was placed by -Charlemagne. Do not start! I propose not--I hope not--to be the man; -but I will pave the way, tread it who will hereafter. I speak not of -acting Charlemagne with this before my eyes;" and he laid his hand -upon the tablets, which showed the state of his finances, "But still I -may do much--nay, I have done much."</p> - -<p class="normal">Philip paused, and thought for a moment, seeming to recall, one by -one, the great steps he had taken to change the character of the -feudal system; then raising his eyes, he continued:--"When the sceptre -fell into my grasp, I found that it was little more dignified than a -jester's bauble. France was not a kingdom,--'twas a republic of -nobles, of which the king could hardly be said to be the chief. He had -but one prerogative left,--that of demanding homage from his vassals; -and even that homage he was obliged to render himself to his own -vassals, for feofs held in their <i>mouvances</i>. At that abuse was aimed -my first blow."</p> - -<p class="normal">"I remember it well, sire," replied the hospitaller, "and a great and -glorious blow it was; for, by that simple declaration, that the king -could not and ought not to be vassal to any man, and that any feof -returning to the crown by what means soever, was no longer a feof, but -became <i>domaine</i> of the crown, you re-established at once the -distinction between the king and his great feudatories."</p> - -<p class="normal">"'Twas but a step," replied the monarch; "the next was, Guerin, to -declare that all questions of feudal right were referable to our court -of peers. The proud Suzerains thought that there they would be their -own judges; but they found that I was there the king. But, to be -short,--Guerin <i>I</i> have followed <i>willingly</i> the steps that -<i>circumstances</i> imposed upon my father. I have freed the commons,--I -have raised the clergy,--I have subjected my vassals to my court. So -have I broken the feudal hierarchy;--so have I reduced the power of my -greater feudatories; and so have I won both their fear and their -hatred. It is against that I must guard. The lesser barons love -me--the clergy--the burghers;--but that is not enough; I must have one -or two of the sovereigns. Then let the rest revolt if they dare! By -the Lord that liveth! if they do, I will leave the <i>domaines</i> of the -crown to my son, tenfold multiplied from what I found them. But I must -have one or two of my princes. Philip of Champagne is one on whom -words and honours work more than real benefits. He must be feasted and -set on my right-hand. Pierre de Courtney is one whose heart and soul -is on chivalry; and he must be won by tournaments and lance-breakings. -Many, many others are alike; and while I crush the wasps in my -gauntlet, Guerin, I must not fail to spread out some honey to catch -the flies." So spake Philip Augustus, with feelings undoubtedly -composed of that grand selfishness called ambition; but, at the same -time, with those superior powers, both of conception and execution -that not only rose above the age, but carried the age along with him.</p> - -<p class="normal">"I am not one, sire," said the minister, "to deem that great -enterprises may not be accomplished with small means; but, in the -present penury of the royal treasury, I know not what is to be done. I -will see, however, what may be effected amongst your good burghesses -of Paris."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Do so, good bishop!" replied the king, "and in the mean time I will -ride forth to the hermit of Vincennes. He is one of those men, Guerin, -of whom earth bears so few, who have new thoughts. He seems to have -cast off all old ideas and feelings, when he threw from him the -corslet and the shield, and took the frock and sandal. Perhaps he may -aid us. But, ere I go, I must take good order that every point of -ceremony be observed in our banquet: I would not, for one half France, -that Philip of Champagne should see a fault or a flaw! I know him -well; and he must be my own, if but to oppose to Ferrand of Flanders, -who is the falsest vassal that ever king had!"</p> - -<p class="normal">"I trust that the hermit may suggest the means!" replied Guerin, "and -I doubt little that he will; but I beseech you, sire, not to let your -blow fall on the heads of the Jews again. The hermit's advice was -wise, to punish them for their crimes, and at the same time to enrich -the crown of France; but having now returned by your royal permission, -and having ever since behaved well and faithfully, they should be -assured of protection."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Fear not, fear not!" replied the king; "they are as safe as my honour -can make them." So saying, he turned to prepare for the expedition he -proposed.</p> - -<p class="normal">Strange state of society! when one of the greatest monarchs that -France ever possessed was indebted, on many occasions, for the -re-establishment of his finances, and for some of his best measures of -policy, to an old man living in solitude and abstraction, removed from -the scenes and people over whose fate he exercised so extraordinary a -control, and evincing, on every occasion, his disinclination to mingle -with the affairs of the world.<a name="div4Ref_11" href="#div4_11"><sup>[11]</sup></a></p> - -<p class="normal">But it is time we should speak more fully of a person whose history -and influence on the people amongst whom he lived, strongly developes -the character of the age.</p> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<h3>CHAPTER IX.</h3> -<br> - -<p class="continue">King Philip rode out of Paris attended like the monarch of a great -nation; but, pausing at the tower of Vincennes, he left his -men-at-arms behind; and, after throwing a brown mantle over his -shoulders, and drawing the <i>aumuce</i>,<a name="div4Ref_12" href="#div4_12"><sup>[12]</sup></a> or furred hood, round his -face, he proceeded through the park on foot, followed only by a single -page to open the gate, which led out into the vast forest of St. -Mandé. When this task was performed, the attendant, by order of the -monarch, suffered him to proceed alone, and waited on the outside of -the postern, to admit the king on his return.</p> - -<p class="normal">Philip Augustus took a small path that, wandering about amidst the old -trees, led on into the heart of the forest. All was in thick leaf; and -the branches, meeting above, cast a green and solemn shadow over the -way. It was occasionally crossed, however, with breaks of yellow -sunshine where the trees parted; and there the eye might wander down -the long, deep glades, in which sun and shade, and green leaves, and -broad stems, and boughs, were all seen mingled together in the dim -forest air, with an aspect of wild, original solitude, such as wood -scenery alone can display.</p> - -<p class="normal">One might have fancied oneself the first tenant of the world, in the -sad loneliness of that dark, old wood; so that, as he passed along, -deep thoughts of a solemn, and even melancholy character came thick -about the heart of the monarch. The littleness of human grandeur--the -evanescence of enjoyment--the emptiness of fame--the grand and awful -lessons that solitude teaches, and the world wipes out, found their -moment then: and, oh! for that brief instant, how he hated strife, and -cursed ambition, and despised the world, and wished himself the -solitary anchorite he went to visit!</p> - -<p class="normal">At about half a league from the tower of Vincennes stood in those days -an antique tomb. The name and fame of him whose memory it had been -intended to perpetuate, had long passed away; and it remained in the -midst of the forest of St. Mandé, with its broken tablets and effaced -inscription, a trophy to oblivion. Near it, Bernard the hermit had -built his hut; and when the monarch approached, he was seated on one -of the large fragments of stone which had once formed part of the -monument. His head rested on one hand; while the other, fallen by his -side, held an open book; and at his feet lay the fragments of an urn -in sculptured marble. Over his head, an old oak spread its wide -branches; but through a vacant space amidst the foliage, where either -age or the lightning had riven away one of the great limbs of the -forest giant, the sunshine poured through, and touching on the coarse -folds of the Hermit's garments, passed on, and shone bright upon the -ruined tomb.</p> - -<p class="normal">As Philip approached, the hermit raised his eyes, but dropped them -again immediately. He was known to have, as it were, fits of this sort -of abstraction, the repeated interruption of which had so irritated -him, that, for a time, he retired to the mountains of Auvergne, and -only returned at the express and repeated request of the king. He was -now, if one might judge by the morose heaviness of his brow, buried in -one of those bitter and misanthropical reveries into which he often -fell; and the monarch, knowing his cynical disposition, took care not -to disturb the course of his ideas, by suddenly presenting any fresh -subject to his mind. Neither, to say the truth, were the thoughts of -the king very discordant with those which probably occupied the person -he came to see. Sitting down, therefore, on the stone beside him, -without giving or receiving any salutation, he remained in silence, -while the hermit continued gazing upon the tomb.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Beautiful nature!" said the old man at last. "How exquisitely fine is -every line thou hast chiseled in yon green ivy that twines amongst -those stones!--Whose tomb was that, my son?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"In truth, know not, good father!" replied the king; "and I do not -think that in all France there is a man wise enough to tell you."</p> - -<p class="normal">"You mock me!" said the hermit. "Look at the laurel--the never-dying -leaf--the ever, ever-green bay, which some curious hand has carved all -over the stone, well knowing that the prince or warrior who sleeps -there should be remembered till the world is not! I pray thee, tell me -whose is that tomb?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"Nay, indeed, it is unknown," replied the king. "Heaven forbid that I -should mock you! The inscription has been long effaced--the name for -centuries forgot; and the living in their busy cares have taken little -heed to preserve the memory of the dead."</p> - -<p class="normal">"So shall it be with thee," said the old man--"so shall it be with -thee. Thou shalt do great deeds; thou shalt know great joys, and taste -great sorrows! Magnified in thy selfishness, thy littleness shall seem -great. Thou shalt strive and conquer, till thou thinkest thyself -immortal; then die, and be forgot! Thy very tomb shall be commented -upon by idle speculation, and men shall come and wonder for whom it -was constructed. Do not men call thee Augustus?"<a name="div4Ref_13" href="#div4_13"><sup>[13]</sup></a></p> - -<p class="normal">"I have heard so," replied the king. "But I know not whether such a -title be general in the mouths of men, or whether it be the flattery -of some needy sycophant."</p> - -<p class="normal">"It matters not, my son," said the hermit--"it matters not. Think you, -that if Augustus had been written on that tablet, the letters of that -word would have proved more durable than those that time has long -effaced? Think you, that it would have given one hour of immortality?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"Good father, you mistake!" said Philip, "and read me a homily on that -where least I sin. None feels more than I the emptiness of fame. Those -that least seek it, very often win; and those that struggle for it -with every effort of their soul, die unremembered. 'Tis not fame I -seek: I live in the present."</p> - -<p class="normal">"What!" cried the hermit, "and bound your hopes to half-a-dozen -morrows? The present! What is the present? Take away the hours of -sleep--of bodily, of mental pain--of regrets for the past--of fears -for the future--of all sorts of cares. And what is the present? One -short moment of transitory joy--a point in the wide eternity of -thought!--a drop of water to a thirsty man, tasted and then forgot!"</p> - -<p class="normal">"'Tis but too true!" replied the king; "and even now, as I came -onward, I dreamed of casting off the load of sovereignty, and seeking -peace."'</p> - -<p class="normal">The hermit gazed at him for a moment, and seeing that he spoke -gravely--"It cannot be," he replied. "It must not be!"</p> - -<p class="normal">"And why not?" demanded the king. "All your reasoning has tended but -to that. Why should I not take the moral to myself?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"It cannot be," replied the hermit; "because the life of your -resolution would be but half an hour. It must not be, because the -world has need of you.--Monarch! I am not wont to flatter, and you -have many a gross and hideous fault about you; but, according to the -common specimens of human kind, you are worthy to be king. It matters -little to the world, whether you do good for its sake or your own. If -your ambition bring about your fellow-creatures' welfare, your -ambition is a virtue: nourish it. You have done good, O king! and you -will do good; and therefore you must be king, till Heaven shall give -you your dismissal. Nor did my reasoning tend, as you say, to make you -quit the cares of the world; but only to make you justly estimate its -joys, and look to a better immortality than that of earth--that empty -dream of human vanity! Still you must bear the load of sovereignty you -speak of; and, by freeing the people from the yoke of their thousand -tyrants, accomplish the work you have begun. See you not that I, who -have a better right to fly from the affairs of men, have come back -from Auvergne at your call?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"My good father," answered the king, "I would fain, as you say, take -the yoke from the neck of the people; but I have not means. Even now, -my finances are totally exhausted; and I sit upon my throne a beggar."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Ha!" said the hermit; "and therefore 'tis you seek me? I knew of this -before. But say, are your exigencies so great as to touch the present, -or only to menace the future?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"'Tis present--too truly present, my want!" replied the king. "Said I -not, I am a beggar? Can a king say more?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"This must be remedied!" replied the hermit.--"Come into my cell, good -son! Strange! that the ascetic's frock should prove richer than the -monarch's gown!--but 'tis so!"</p> - -<p class="normal">Philip followed the hermit into the rude thatched hut, on the cold -earthen floor of which was laid the anchorite's bed of straw. It had -no other furniture whatever. The mud walls were bare and rough. The -window was but an opening to the free air of heaven; and the thatch -seemed scarcely sufficient to keep off the inclemency of the weather. -The king glanced his eye round the miserable dwelling, and then to the -ashy and withered cheek of the hermit! as if he would have asked, Is -it possible for humanity to bear such privation?</p> - -<p class="normal">The anchorite remarked his look, and pointing to a crucifix of ebony -hanging against the wall, "There," cried he, "is my reward!--there is -the reward of fasting, and penitence, and prayer, and maceration, and -all that has made this body the withered and blighted thing it -is:--withered indeed! so that those who loved me best would not know a -line in my countenance. But there is the reward!" And casting himself -on his knees before the crucifix, he poured forth a long, wild, -rhapsodical prayer, which, indeed, well accorded with the character of -the times, but which was so very unlike the usual calm, rational, and -even bitter manner of the anchorite, that Philip gazed on him, in -doubt whether his judgment had not suddenly given way under the -severity of his ascetic discipline.</p> - -<p class="normal">At length the hermit rose, and, without noting the king's look of -astonishment, turned abruptly from his address to heaven, to far more -mundane thoughts. Pushing back the straw and moss which formed his -bed, from the spot where it joined the wall, he discovered, to the -king's no small surprise, two large leathern sacks or bags, the -citizen-like rotundity of which evinced their fulness in some kind.</p> - -<p class="normal">"In each of those bags," said the hermit, "is the sum of one thousand -marks of silver. One of them shall be yours, my son; the other is -destined for another purpose."</p> - -<p class="normal">It would be looking too curiously into the human heart to ask whether -Philip, who, the moment before, would have thought one of the bags a -most blessed relief from his very unkingly distresses, did not, on the -sight of two, feel unsatisfied that one only was to be his portion. -However, he was really of too noble a disposition not to feel grateful -for the gift, even as it was; and he was proceeding gracefully to -thank the hermit, when the old man stopped him.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Vanity, vanity! my son," cried he. "What need of thanks, for giving -you a thing that is valueless to me?--ay, more worthless than the moss -amongst which it lies. My vow forbids me either to buy or sell; and -though I may use gold, as the beast of burden bears it--but to -transfer it to another,--to me, it is more worthless than the dust of -the earth, for it neither bears the herbs that give me food, nor the -leaves that form my bed. Send for it, sir king, and it is yours.--But -now, to speak of the future. I heard by the way that the Count de -Tankerville is dead, and that the Duke of Burgundy claims all his -broad lands. Is it so?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"Nay," replied the king, "not so. The Count de Tankerville is -wandering in the Holy Land. I have not heard of him since I went -thither myself some ten years since: but he is there. At least, no -tidings have reached me of his death. Even were he dead," continued -the King, "which is not likely,--for he went but as one of the -palmers, to whom, you know, the Soldan shows much favour; and he was a -strong and vigorous man, fitted to resist all climates:--but even were -he dead, the Duke of Burgundy has no claim upon his lands; for, before -he went, he drew a charter and stamped it with his ring, whereby, in -case of his death, he gives his whole and entire lands, with our royal -consent, to Guy de Coucy, then a page warring with the men I left to -Richard of England, but now a famous knight, who has done feats of -great prowess in all parts of the world. The charter is in our royal -treasury, sent by him to our safe keeping about ten years agone."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Well, my son," replied the hermit, "the report goes that he is -dead.--Now, follow my counsel. Lay your hand upon those lands; call in -all the sums that for many years are due from all the count's prévôts -and sénéchals; employ the revenues in raising the dignity of your -crown, repressing the wars and plunderings of your barons, and----"</p> - -<p class="normal">"But," interrupted the King, "my good father, will not what you advise -itself be plundering? Will it not be a notable injustice?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"Are you one of those, sir king," asked the hermit, "who come for -advice, resolved to follow their own: and who hear the counsels of -others, but to strengthen their own determination? Do as I tell you, -and you shall prosper; and, by my faith in yon blessed emblem, I -pledge myself that, if the Count de Tankerville be alive, I will meet -his indignation; and he shall wreak his vengeance on my old head, if -he agree not that the necessity of the case compelled you. If he be a -good and loyal baron, he will not hesitate to say you did well, when -his revenues were lying unemployed, or only fattening his idle -servants. If he be dead, on the other hand, this mad-brained De Coucy, -who owes me his life, shall willingly acquit you of the sums you have -taken."</p> - -<p class="normal">The temptation was too strong for the king to resist; and determining -inwardly, merely to employ the large revenues of the Count de -Tankerville for the exigencies of the state, and to repay them, if he -or de Coucy did not willingly acquiesce in the necessity of the -case,--without however remembering that repayment might not be in his -power,--Philip Augustus consented to what the hermit proposed. It was -also farther agreed between them, that in case of the young knight -presenting himself at court, the question of his rights should be -avoided, till such time as the death of the Count de Tankerville was -positively ascertained; while, as some compensation, Philip resolved -to give him, in case of war, the leading of all the knights and -soldiers furnished by the lands which would ultimately fall to him.</p> - -<p class="normal">The hermit was arranging all these matters with Philip, with as much -worldly policy as if he never dreamed of nobler themes, when they were -startled by the sound of a horn, which, though at some distance, was -evidently in the forest. It seemed the blast of a huntsman; and a -flush of indignation came over the countenance of the king, at the -very thought of any one daring to hunt in one of the royal forests, -almost within sight of the walls of Paris.</p> - -<p class="normal">The hermit saw the angry spot, and giving way to the cynicism which -mingled so strangely with many very opposite qualities in his -character--"O God!" cried he, "what strange creatures thou hast made -us! That a great, wise king should hold the right of slaughtering -unoffending beasts as one of the best privileges of his crown!--to be -sole and exclusive butcher of God's forests in France! I tell thee, -monarch, that when those velvet brutes, that fly panting at thy very -tread heard afar, come and lick my hand, because I feed them and hurt -them not, I hold my staff as much above thy sceptre, as doing good is -above doing evil! But hie thee away quick, and send thy men to search -the forest; for, hark! the saucy fool blows his horn again, and knows -not royal ears are listening to his tell-tale notes!"</p> - -<p class="normal">Philip was offended: but the vast reputation for sanctity which the -hermit had acquired; the fasts, the vigils, and the privations, which -he himself knew to be unfeigned,--had, in that age of superstition, no -small effect even upon the mind of Philip Augustus:--he submitted, -therefore, to the anchorite's rebuke with seeming patience, but taking -care not to reply upon a subject whereon he knew himself to be -peculiarly susceptible, and which might urge him into anger, he took -leave of the hermit, fully resolved to follow his advice so far as to -send out some of his men-at-arms, to see who was bold enough to hunt -in the royal chase.</p> - -<p class="normal">This trouble, however, was spared him; for, as he walked back with a -rapid pace, along the path that conducted to Vincennes, the sound of -the horn came nearer and nearer; and suddenly the king was startled by -an apparition in one of the glades, which was very difficult to -comprehend. It consisted of a strong grey mare, galloping at full -speed, with no apparent rider, but with two human legs, clothed in -crimson silk, sticking far out before, one on each side of the -animal's neck. As it approached, however, Philip began to perceive the -body of the horseman, lying flat on his back, with his head resting on -the saddle, and not at all discomposed by his strange position, nor -the quick pace of his steed, blowing all sorts of <i>mots</i> upon his -horn, which was, in truth, the sound that had disturbed the monarch in -his conference with the hermit.</p> - -<p class="normal">We must still remember, that the profound superstition of that age -held, as a part of the true faith, the existence and continual -appearance, in corporeal shape, of all sorts of spirits. It was also -the peculiar province of huntsmen, and other persons frequenting large -forests, to meet with these spirits; so that not a wood in France, of -any extent, but had its appropriate fiend; and never did a chase -terminate without some of the hunters separating from the rest, and -having some evil communication of the kind with the peculiar demon of -the place.</p> - -<p class="normal">Now, though the reader may have before met with the personage who, in -the present case, approached the king at full gallop, yet as Philip -Augustus had never done so,--and as no mind, however strong, is ever -without some touch of the spirit of its age, it was not unnatural for -the monarch to lay his hand upon his sword, that being the most -infallible way he had ever found of exorcising all kinds of spirits -whatever. The mare, however, aware that she was in the presence of -something more awful than trees and rocks, suddenly stopped, and, in a -moment, our friend Gallon the fool sat bolt upright before the king, -with his long and extraordinary nose wriggling in all sorts of ways on -the blank flat of his countenance, as if it were the only part of his -face that was surprised.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Who the devil are you?" exclaimed the monarch; "and what do you, -sounding your horn in this forest?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"I, the devil, am nobody," replied the jongleur; "and if you ask what -I do here, I am losing my way as hard as I can--Haw, haw!"</p> - -<p class="normal">"Nobody! How mean you?" demanded Philip. "You cannot be nobody."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Yes, I am," answered the juggler. "I have often heard the sage Count -Thibalt d'Auvergne say to my master, the valiant Sir Guy de Coucy, -that the intellect is the man. Now, I lack intellect; and therefore am -I nobody.--Haw, haw! Haw, haw!"</p> - -<p class="normal">"So thou art but a buffoon," said the king,</p> - -<p class="normal">"No, not so either," replied Gallon. "I am, indeed. Sir Guy de Coucy's -tame juggler; running wild in this forest, for want of instruction."</p> - -<p class="normal">"And where is now Sir Guy de Coucy," demanded the king, "and the Count -Thibalt d'Auvergne you speak of? They were both in the Holy Land when -last I heard of them."</p> - -<p class="normal">"As for the Count d'Auvergne," replied Gallon the fool,--"he parted -from us three days since to go to Paris, to make love to the king's -wife, who, they say, has a pretty foot. God help me!"</p> - -<p class="normal">"Ha, villain!" cried the king. "'Tis well the king hears you not, or -your ears would be slit!"</p> - -<p class="normal">"So should his hearing spoil my hearing," cried the juggler; "but I -would keep my ears out of his way. I have practice enough, in saving -them from my Lord Sir Guy; but no man has reached them yet, and shall -not.--Haw, haw!"</p> - -<p class="normal">"And where is Sir Guy?" demanded the king. "How happen you to have -parted from him?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"He is but now sitting a mile hence, singing very doleful ballads -under an oak," replied the juggler. "All about the old man and his -daughter.--Haw, haw! Sir Julian of the Mount and the fair -Isadore.--Haw, haw, haw!--You know?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"No, 'faith, fool! I know not," replied Philip. "What do you mean?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"Why, have you not heard," said the juggler, "how my good lord and my -better self, and five or six varlets and squires, conducted old Sir -Julian and the young Lady Isadore all the way from Vic le Comte to -Senlis----and how we lost our way in this cursed forest--and how lord -sent me to seek it? Oh, 'tis a fine tale, and my lord will write it in -verse--Haw, haw, haw!--and sing it to an old rattling harp; and make -all the folks weep to hear how he has sworn treason against the king, -all for the sake of the Lady Isadore.--Haw, haw, haw! Haw, haw!" And -placing his hand against his cheek, the juggler poured forth a mixture -of all sorts of noises, in which that of sharpening a saw was alone -predominant.</p> - -<p class="normal">Philip called, and entreated, and commanded him to cease, and to tell -him more; but the malicious juggler only burst out into one of his -long shrill laughs, and throwing himself back on his horse, set it off -into a gallop, without at all asking his way; at the same time putting -the horn to his mouth, and blowing a blast quite sufficient to drown -all the monarch's objurgations.</p> - -<p class="normal">Philip turned upon his heel, and pursued his way to Vincennes, -and--oh, strange human nature!--though he saw that his informant was a -fool--though he easily guessed him to be a malicious one, he repeated -again and again the words that Gallon had made use of--"Gone to make -love to the king's wife!--sworn treason against the king! But the -man's a fool--an idiot," added the monarch. "'Tis not worth a -thought;" and yet Philip thought of it.</p> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<h3>CHAPTER X.</h3> -<br> - -<p class="continue">In the days we speak of, the city of Paris was just beginning to -venture beyond the island, and spread its streets and houses over the -country around. During the reign of Louis the Seventh, and especially -under the administration of Suger, abbot of St. Denis, the buildings -had extended far on the northern bank of the river; and there already -might be seen churches and covered market-places, and all that -indicates a wealthy and rising city; but in the midst of this suburb, -nearly on the spot where stand at present the Rue Neuve and the Rue -des Petits Champs, was a vast open space of ground, called the -Champeaux, or Little Fields; which, appertaining to the crown, had -been reserved for the chivalrous sports of the day. Part of it, -indeed, had been given to the halls of Paris, and part had been -enclosed as a cemetery; but a large vacant space still remained, and -here was appointed the tournament of July, to which Philip Augustus -had called all the chivalry of his realm.</p> - -<p class="normal">It is not my intention here to describe a tournament, which has been -so often done--and so exquisitely well done in the beautiful romance -of Ivanhoe, that my relation would not only have the tediousness of a -twice-told tale, but the disadvantage of a comparison with something -far better; but I am unfortunately obliged to touch upon such a theme, -as the events that took place at the <i>passe d'armes</i> of Champeaux -materially affect the course of my history.</p> - -<p class="normal">On one side of the plain extended a battlemented building, erected by -the minister Guerin, and dedicated, as the term went, to the shelter -of the poor passengers. It looked more like a fortress, indeed, than a -house of hospitality, being composed entirely of towers and turrets; -and as it was the most prominent situation in the neighbourhood, it -was appointed for the display of the casques and shields of arms -belonging to the various knights who proposed to combat in the -approaching tournament. Nor was the effect unpleasant to the eye, for -every window on that side of the building which fronted the field had -the shield and banner of some particular knight, with all the same gay -colours wherewith we now decorate the panels of our carriages. In the -cloisters below, from morning unto night-fall, stood one of the -heralds in his glittering tabard, with his pursuivants and followers, -ready to receive and register complaints against any of the knights -whose arms were displayed above, and who, in case of any serious -charges, were either prevented from entering, or were driven with -ignominy from, the lists.</p> - -<p class="normal">Side by side, on one of the most conspicuous spots of the building, as -knights of high fame and prowess, were placed the shields and banners -of Count Thibalt d'Auvergne and Guy de Coucy; and the officers of -arms, who, from time to time repeated the names of the various -knights, and their exploits and qualities, did not fail to pause long -upon the two brothers in arms; giving De Coucy the meed over all -others for valour and daring, and D'Auvergne for cool courage and -prudent skill.</p> - -<p class="normal">All the arrangements of the field were as magnificent as if the royal -coffers had overflowed. The scaffoldings for the king, the ladies, and -the judges, were hung with crimson and gold; the tents and booths were -fluttering with streamers of all colours, and nothing was seen around -but pageant and splendour.</p> - -<p class="normal">Such was the scene which presented itself on the evening before the -tournament, when De Coucy and his friend, the Count d'Auvergne, whom -he had rejoined by this time in Paris, set out, from a lodging which -they occupied near the tower of the châtelet, to visit the spot where -they were to display their skill the next day. A circumstance, -however, occurred by the way, which it may be well to record.</p> - -<p class="normal">Passing through some of the more narrow and tortuous streets of Paris, -and their horses pressed on by the crowd of foot passengers, who were -coming from, or going to, the same gay scene as themselves, they could -only converse in broken observations to each other, as they for a -moment came side by side. And even these detached sentences were often -drowned in the various screaming invitations to spend their money, -which were in that day poured forth upon passengers of all -denominations.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Methinks the king received us but coldly," said De Coucy, as he -gained D'Auvergne's ear for a moment, "after making us wait four days -too!--Methinks his hospitality runs dry."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Wine, will you wine? Good strong wine, fit for knights and nobles," -cried a loud voice at the door of one of the houses.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Cresses!--fresh water-cresses!" shrieked a woman with a basket in her -hand.</p> - -<p class="normal">"The king can scarce love me less than I love him," answered the count -in a low tone, as a movement of his horse brought him close to De -Coucy.</p> - -<p class="normal">"And yet," said his friend, in some surprise, "you, principally, -determined your father to reject all overtures from the Count of -Flanders, brought by Sir Julian of the Mount!"</p> - -<p class="normal">"Because I admire the king, though I love not the man," replied Count -Thibalt.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Baths! baths! hot baths!" cried a man with a napkin over his arm, and -down whose face the perspiration was streaming. "Hot! hot! hot! upon -my honour!--Bathe, lords and knights! bathe! 'Tis dusty weather."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Knight of Auvergne!" cried a voice close by. "Those that soar high, -fall farthest. Sir Guy de Coucy, the falcon was slain that checked at -the eagle, because he was the king of birds."</p> - -<p class="normal">A flush came into the cheek of Count Thibalt; and De Coucy started and -turned round in his saddle, to see who spoke. No one, however, was -near, but a man engaged in that ancient and honourable occupation of -selling hot pies, and a woman chaffering for a pair of doves with -another of her own sex.</p> - -<p class="normal">"By all the saints of France!" cried De Coucy, "some one named us. -What meant the fool by checking at the eagle? I see him not, or I -would check at him!"</p> - -<p class="normal">Count Thibalt d'Auvergne asked no explanation of the quaint proverb -that had been addressed to him; but only inquired of De Coucy, whether -'twas not like the voice of his villain--Gallon the fool.</p> - -<p class="normal">"No!" replied the knight.--"No! 'twas not so shrill. Besides, he is -gone, as he said, to inspect the lists some half-hour ago."</p> - -<p class="normal">In truth, no sooner did they approach the booths, which had been -erected by various hucksters and jugglers, at the end of the cemetery -of the Innocents, a short distance from the lists, than they beheld -Gallon the fool, with his jerkin turned inside out, amusing a crowd of -men, women, and children, with various tricks of his old trade.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Come to me!--come to me!" cried he, "all that want to learn -philosophy! I am the king of cats, and the patron of cock-sparrows. -Have any of you a dog that wants gloves, or a goat that lacks a -bonnet? Bring him me!--bring him me! and I will fit him to a -hair.--Haw, haw! haw, haw!"</p> - -<p class="normal">His strange laugh, his still stranger face, and his great dexterity, -were giving much delight and astonishment to the people, when the -appearance of De Coucy, who, he well knew, would be angry at the -public exhibition of his powers, put a stop to his farther feats; and -shouting, "Haw, haw! haw, haw!" he scampered off, and was safely at -home before them.</p> - -<p class="normal">The day of the tournament broke clear and bright; and long before the -hour appointed, the galleries were full, and the knights armed in -their tents. Nothing was waited for but the presence of the king; and -many was the impatient look of lady and of page, towards the street -which led to the side of the river.</p> - -<p class="normal">At length the sound of trumpets announced his approach; and, winding -up towards Champeaux, were seen the leaders of his body-guard--that -first small seed from which sprung and branched out in a thousand -directions the great body of a standing army. The first institution of -these serjeants of arms, as they were called, took place during -Philip's crusade in the Holy Land, where, feigning, or believing, his -life to be in danger from the poniards of the assassins, he attached -to his own person a guard of twelve hundred men, whose sole duty was -to watch around the king's dwelling. In France, though the same excuse -no longer existed, Philip was too wise to dismiss the corps which he -had once established, and which not only offered a nucleus for larger -bodies in time of need, but which added that pomp and majesty to the -name of king, that neither the extent of the royal domains, nor the -prerogatives of sovereignty, limited as they were in those days, could -alone either require or enforce.</p> - -<p class="normal">Slowly winding up through the streets towards the Champeaux, the -cavalcade of royalty seemed to delight in exhibiting itself to the -gaze of the people, who crowded the houses to the very tops; for, well -understanding the barbarous taste of the age in which he lived, no one -ever more feasted the public eye with splendour than Philip Augustus.</p> - -<p class="normal">First came the heralds two and two, with their many-coloured tabards, -exhibiting on their breasts the arms of their provinces. Next followed -on horseback, Mountjoy king-at-arms, surrounded by a crowd of -marshals, pursuivants, and valets on foot. He was dressed in a -sleeveless tunic of crimson, which opening in front displayed a robe -of violet velvet, embroidered with <i>fleur de lis</i>. On his head was -placed his crown, and in his hand a sort of staff or sceptre. He was -indeed, as far as personal appearance went, a very kingly person; and -being a great favourite amongst the people, he was received with loud -shouts of Denis Mountjoy! Denis Mountjoy! Blessings on thee, Sire -François de Roussy!</p> - -<p class="normal">Next appeared a party of the serjeants-at-arms, bearing their gilded -quivers and long bows; while each held in his right-hand the baton of -his immense brazen mace, the head or ball of which rested on his -shoulder. But then came a sight which obliterated all others. It was -the party of the king and queen. The monarch himself was mounted on a -<i>destrier</i>, or battle-horse, as black as night, whose every step -seemed full of the consciousness that he bore royalty. Armed -completely, except the casque, which was borne behind him by a page, -Philip Augustus moved the warrior, and looked the monarch; and the -same man, who had heard the hermit's rebuke with patience, ordered the -preparations of a banquet like a Lucullus; and played with the roses -in a woman's hair, now looked as if he could have crushed an empire -with a frown.</p> - -<p class="normal">Beside him, on a palfrey--as if for the contrast's sake, -milk-white--rode the lovely Agnes de Meranie. All that is known of her -dress is, that it also was white; for it seems that no one who looked -on her could remark any thing but her radiant beauty. As she moved on, -managing with perfect ease a high-spirited horse, whose light -movements served but to call out a thousand graces in his rider, the -glitter, and the pageant, and the splendour seemed to pass away from -the eyes of the multitude, extinguished by something brighter still; -and, ever and anon, Philip Augustus himself let his glance drop to the -sweet countenance of his queen, with an expression that woke some -sympathetic feeling in the bosoms of the people; and a loud shout -proclaimed the participation of the crowd in the sensations of the -king.</p> - -<p class="normal">Behind the king and queen rode a long train of barons and ladies, with -all the luxury of dress and equipage for which that age was -distinguished. Amongst the most conspicuous of that noble train were -Constance, Duchess of Brittany, and her son Arthur Plantagenet, of -whose character and fate we shall have more to speak hereafter. Each -great chieftain was accompanied by many a knight, and vassal, and -vavassour, with worlds of wealth bestowed upon their horses and their -persons. Following these again, came another large body of the King's -men-at-arms, closing the procession, which marched slowly on, and -entered the southern end of the lists; after which, traversing the -field amidst the shouts and gratulations of the multitude, the whole -party halted at the foot of a flight of steps leading to the splendid -gallery prepared for the king and queen. Here, surrounded by a crowd -of waving crests and glittering arms, Philip himself lifted Agnes from -her horse, and led her to her seat; while at the same time the -trumpets sounded for the various knights to make a tour round the -field, before proceeding to the sports of the day. Each, as he passed -by the royal gallery, saluted the king and queen by dropping the point -of his lance; and from time to time, Agnes demanded the name of the -different knights, whom either she did not know, or whose faces were -so concealed by the helmet as to render it difficult to distinguish -them.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Who is he, Philip?" demanded she, as one of the knights passed, "he -with the wivern in his casque, and the red scarf,--who is he? He sits -his horse nobly."</p> - -<p class="normal">"'Tis Charles de Tournon," replied the king; "a noble knight, called -the Comte Rouge. Here comes also Guillaume de Macon, my fair dame," -added the king, smiling, "with a rose on his shield, all for your -love."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Silly knight!" said Agnes. "He had better fix his love where he may -hope to win. But who is this next, with the shield sinople, bearing a -cross, gules, and three towers in chief?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"That is the famous Guy de Coucy," replied the King; "a most renowned -knight. If report speaks true, we shall see all go down before his -lance. And this who follows, and is now coming up, is the no less -famous Thibalt Count d'Auvergne"--and the king fixed his eyes upon his -wife with a keen, inquiring glance.</p> - -<p class="normal">Luckily, however, the countenance of Agnes showed nothing which could -alarm a mind like Philip's.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Count Thibalt d'Auvergne!" cried she, with a frank, unembarrassed -smile. "Oh! I know him well. He spent many months at my father's court -in going to the Holy Land. From him I first heard the praises of my -Philip, long, long ere I ever entertained a hope of being his wife. I -was scarce more than a child then, not much above fifteen--and yet I -forgot not those praises. He was a dear friend too--that Count -d'Auvergne--of my poor brother Alberic, who died in Palestine." The -queen added, with a sigh--"Poor Alberic! he loved me well!"</p> - -<p class="normal">"The fool lied!" said Philip internally: "all is frank and fair. The -fool lied!--and led me to slight a noble knight and powerful baron by -his falsehood!" and bending forward, as if to do away the coldness -with which he had at first treated the Count d'Auvergne, he answered -his salute with a marked and graceful inclination of the head.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Is it possible?" cried Agnes, after the Count had passed. "In truth, -I should never have known him, Philip, he is so changed. Why, when he -was at the court of Istria, he was a fresh young man; and now he is as -deadly pale and worn as one sick of the plague. Oh, what a horrible -place must be that Holy Land!--Promise me, Philip, on all the -Evangelists, never to go there again, let who will preach new -crusades:--nay, promise me, my Lord!"</p> - -<p class="normal">"I do! I do! sweet Agnes!" replied the king: "once in a life is quite -enough. I have other warfares now before me."</p> - -<p class="normal">After the knights had all passed, a short space of time intervened for -the various arrangements of the field; and then, the barriers being -opened, the tournament really commenced. Into the particulars of the -feats performed, as I have already said, I shall not enter: suffice it -that, as the king had predicted, all went down before De Coucy's -lance; and that Count Thibalt d'Auvergne, though not hurried on by the -same quick spirit, was judged, by the old knights, no way inferior to -his friend, though his valour bore a different character. The second -course had taken place, and left the same result; and many of the fair -dames in the galleries began to regret that neither of the two -companions in arms had been decorated with their colours; and to -determine upon various little arts and wiles, to engage one or other -of the two crusaders to bear some mark of theirs in any subsequent -tournament.</p> - -<p class="normal">Thus stood the day, when the voices of the heralds cried to pause, -much to the astonishment, not only of the combatants, but of the king -himself. The barriers opened, and, preceded by a stout priest bearing -a pontifical cross in silver, the cardinal of St. Mary, dressed as -<i>Legate à latere</i>, entered the lists, followed by a long train of -ecclesiastics.<a name="div4Ref_14" href="#div4_14"><sup>[14]</sup></a></p> - -<p class="normal">A quick, angry flush mounted into the king's cheek, and his brow knit -into a frown, which sufficiently indicated that he expected no very -agreeable news from the visit of the legate. The cardinal, however, -without being moved by his frowns, advanced directly towards the -gallery in which he sat, and, placing himself before him, addressed -him thus:--</p> - -<p class="normal">"Philip, King of France, I, the cardinal of St. Mary's, am charged, -and commanded, by our most holy father, the Pope Innocent, to speak to -you thus----"</p> - -<p class="normal">"Hold, Sir Cardinal!" cried the King, "Let your communication be for -our private ear. We are not accustomed to receive either ambassadors -or legates in the listed field."</p> - -<p class="normal">"I have been directed, Sir King," replied the legate, "by the superior -orders of his holiness, thus publicly to admonish you, wherever I -should find you, you having turned a deaf and contemptuous ear to the -frequent counsels and commands of the holy church. Know then, king -Philip, that with surprise and grief that a king of France should so -forget the hereditary piety of his race, his holiness perceives that -you still persist in abandoning your lawful wife, Ingerburge of -Denmark!"</p> - -<p class="normal">"The man will drive me mad!" exclaimed the king, grasping his -truncheon, as if he would have hurled it at the daring churchman, who -thus insulted him before all the barons of his realm. "Will no one -stay him?"</p> - -<p class="normal">Several of the knights and heralds advanced to interpose between the -legate and the king; but the cardinal waved them back; and, well -knowing that their superstitious veneration for his habit would -prevent them from silencing him by force, he proceeded boldly with his -speech.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Perceiving also," continued he, "that, taking advantage of an -unlawful and annulled divorce, weakly pronounced by your bishops, you -have taken to your bed another woman, who is not, and cannot be, your -wife!"</p> - -<p class="normal">A shriek from the women of the queen here interrupted the harangue of -the prelate, and all eyes instantly turned upon her.</p> - -<p class="normal">Simple surprise and astonishment had been the first emotion of Agnes -de Meranie, at seeing any one bold enough to oppose a will that, -according to all her ideas, was resistless; but gradually, as she -began to comprehend the scope of the legate's discourse, terror and -distress took possession of her whole frame. Her eyes strained on him, -as on some bad angel come to cross her young happiness; her lip -quivered; the warm glow of her cheek waxed faint and pale, like the -sunshine fading away from the evening sky; and, at the last terrible -words that seemed to seal her fate for ever, she fell back senseless -into the arms of her women.</p> - -<p class="normal">The scene of confusion that ensued is not to be described.</p> - -<p class="normal">"By the light of heaven! old man!" exclaimed Philip, "were it not for -thy grey hairs, I would strike thee dead!--Away with him! Let him -speak no more!--Men-at-arms! put him forth from the lists! Away with -him!--Agnes, my beloved!" he cried, turning to the queen, and taking -her small hand in his, "awake, awake! Fear not, dear Agnes! Is your -Philip's love so light as to be shaken by the impotent words of any -churchman in Christendom?"</p> - -<p class="normal">In the mean while the serjeants-at-arms hurried the prelate and his -followers from the lists, amidst many a bitter taunt from the -minstrels and trouvères, who feared not even then to attack with the -most daring satire the vices of the church of Rome. The ladies of -Agnes de Meranie pressed round their fair mistress, sprinkling her -with all kinds of essences and perfumed waters; some chattering, some -still screaming, and all abusing the daring legate, who had so pained -the heart of their lovely queen, and put a stop to the sports of the -day. The knights and barons all united in the cause of the princess by -every motive that had power in the days of chivalry:--youth, beauty, -innocence, and distress, shouted loudly, that they acknowledged her -for their sovereign, the queen of all queens, and the flower of all -ladies!</p> - -<p class="normal">Philip Augustus, with royal indignation still upon his brow, caught -gladly at the enthusiasm of his chivalry; and, standing forward in the -front of the gallery, with the inanimate hand of his lovely wife in -his left, and pointing to her deathlike cheek with the other, he -exclaimed, in a voice that passed all over the field--"Knights and -nobles of fair France! shall I suffer my hearth to be invaded by the -caprice of any proud prelate? Shall I yield the lady of my love for -the menace of any pope on earth? You, good knights!--you only can -judge! and, by Heaven's throne! you only shall be the judges!"</p> - -<p class="normal">"Life to the king!--life to the king! Denis Mountjoy!--Denis -Mountjoy!" shouted the barons, as if they were rallying round the -royal standard on the battle-field; and, at the same time, the waving -of a thousand scarfs, and handkerchiefs, and veils, from the galleries -around, announced how deep an interest the ladies of France took in a -question where the invaded rights of the queen came so home to the -bosoms of all.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Break up the sports for to-day!" cried Philip, waving his warder. -"This has disturbed our happiness for the moment; but we trust our -fair queen will be able to thank her loyal knights by the hour of -four, when we invite all men of noble birth here present to sup with -us in our great hall of the palace. For those who come too late to -find a seat in the great hall, a banquet shall be prepared in the -tower of the Louvre. Till then, farewell!"</p> - -<p class="normal">The fainting fit of Agnes de Meranie lasted so long, that it was found -necessary to carry her to the palace in a litter, followed, sadly and -in silence, by the same splendid train that had conducted her, as if -in triumph, to the tournament.</p> - -<p class="normal">In the mean while, for a short time, the knights who had come to show -their prowess and skill, and those noble persons, both ladies and -barons, who had graced the lists as spectators, remained in groups, -scattered over the field, and through the galleries, canvassing -vehemently what had taken place; and not the most priest-ridden of -them all, did not, in the first excitement of the moment, declare that -the conduct of both pope and cardinal was daring and scandalous, and -that the divorce which had been pronounced between Philip and -Ingerburge by the bishops of France ought to hold good in the eyes of -all Frenchmen.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Now, by the good Heaven!" cried De Coucy, raising his voice above all -the rest, "she is as fair a queen as ever my eyes rested on; and -though I cannot wear her colours, and proclaim her the star of my -love, because another vow withholds me, yet I will mortally defy any -man who says she is not lawfully queen of France.--Sound, trumpets, -sound! and you, heralds, cry--Here stands Guy de Coucy in arms, ready -to prove upon the bodies of any persons who do deny that Agnes -princess de Meranie is lawfully queen of France, and wife of Philip -the Magnanimous, that they are false and recreant, and to give them -the lie in their throat, wagering against them his body and arms in -battle, when and where they will appoint, on horseback or on foot, and -giving them the choice of arms!"</p> - -<p class="normal">The trumpets sounded, and the heralds who remained on the field -proclaimed the challenge of the knight: while De Coucy cast his -gauntlet on the ground. A moment's profound silence succeeded, and -then a loud shout; and no one answering his call, De Coucy bade the -heralds take up the glove and nail it on some public place, with his -challenge written beneath; for payment of which service, he twisted -off three links of a massive gold chain round his neck, and cast it to -the herald who raised his glove; after which he turned, and, rejoining -the Count d'Auvergne, rode back to throw off his arms and prepare for -the banquet to which they had been invited.</p> - -<p class="normal">"De Coucy," said D'Auvergne, as they passed onward, "I too would -willingly have joined in your challenge, had I thought that our lances -could ever establish Agnes de Meranie as queen of France; but I tell -you no, De Coucy! If the pope be firm, and firm he will be, as her -father too well knows, Philip will be forced to resign her, or to -trust to his barons for support against the church."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Well!" cried De Coucy, "and his barons will support him. Saw you not -how, but now, they pledged themselves to his support?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"The empty enthusiasm of a moment!" replied D'Auvergne bitterly; "a -flame which will be out as soon as kindled! Not one man in each -hundred there, I tell thee, De Coucy, has got one spark of such -enthusiasm as yours, which, like the Greek fire, flashes brightly, yet -burns for ever; and as few of them, the colder sort of determination, -which, like mine, burns without any flame, till all that fed it is -consumed."</p> - -<p class="normal">De Coucy paused. For a moment the idea crossed his mind of proposing -to D'Auvergne a plan for binding all the barons present by a vow to -support Philip against the church of Rome, while the enthusiasm was -yet upon them; but though brave almost to madness where his own person -was alone concerned, he was prudent and cautious in no small degree, -where the life and happiness of others were involved; and, remembering -the strife to which such a proposal, even, might give rise, he paused, -and let it die in silence.</p> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<h3>CHAPTER XI.</h3> -<br> - -<p class="continue">The banquet passed, like the scene which followed the tournament, in -enthusiastic assertions of the fair queen's rights, although she was -not present. In this instance, Philip Augustus, all clear-sighted as -he was, suffered himself to be deceived by his wishes; and believed -fully that his barons would aid him in the resistance he meditated to -the usurped authority of the pope.</p> - -<p class="normal">The promises, however, which wine, and wassail, and festivity call -forth, are scarcely more lasting than the feast itself; and, without -we can take advantage of the enthusiasm before it dies, and render it -irrevocable by urging it into action, little can ever be gained from -any sudden emotion of a multitude. If Philip doubted its durability, -he did not suffer the shade of such a doubt to appear. The vaunt of -every young knight he thanked as a promise; and every expression of -admiration and sympathy, directed towards his queen, he affected to -look upon as a pledge to espouse her cause.</p> - -<p class="normal">The Count Thibalt d'Auvergne was the only one that made neither boasts -nor promises; and yet the king--whether judging his mind of a more -stable fabric than the others, or wishing to counterbalance the -coldness he had shown him on his first appearance at the court,--now -loaded him with honours, placed him near him, spoke to him on all -those subjects on which he deemed the count was best calculated to -speak: and affecting to consider his advice and assistance of great -import, in arranging the relations to be established between the crown -of France and the new French colony, which had taken Constantinople, -he prayed him to accompany the court to Compiègne, for which place it -set out the next day.</p> - -<p class="normal">The king's favour and notice fell upon the calm cold brow and dark -thoughtful eye of Thibalt d'Auvergne like sunshine in winter, melting -in no degree the frozen surface that it touched. The invitation, -however, he accepted; saying, in the same unmoved tone, that he was -anxious to see the queen, whom he had known in years long gone, and to -whom he could give fresh news from Istria, with many a loving greeting -from her father, whom he had seen as he returned from Palestine.</p> - -<p class="normal">The queen, Philip replied, would be delighted to see him, and to hear -all that he had to tell; for she had never yet forgot her own fair -country--nay, nor let that canker-worm of affection, absence, eat the -least bit away of her regard for those she loved.</p> - -<p class="normal">The very first, Count Thibalt took his leave and departed. De Coucy -rose, and was following; but the king detained him for a moment, to -thank him for the generous interest he had shown in his queen's -rights, which had not failed to reach his ears. He then asked, with a -slight shade of concern upon his brow, "Is your companion in arms, -beau sire, always so sad? It grieves me truly, to see him look so -possessed by sorrow! What is the cause thereof?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"By my faith! my lord, 'tis love, I believe," replied De Coucy; "some -fair dame of Palestine--I wot not whether heathen or Christian, -rightly; but all I know is this:--Some five years ago, when he first -joined us, then warring near Tyre, he was as cheerful a knight as ever -unhorsed a Saracen; never very lively in his mirth, yet loving gaiety -in others, and smiling often: when suddenly, about two or three years -after, he lost all his cheerfulness, abandoned his smiles, grew wan -and thin, and has ever since been the man you see him."</p> - -<p class="normal">The shade passed away from the king's brow; and saying, "'Tis a sad -pity! We will try to find some bright eyes in France that may cure -this evil love," he suffered De Coucy to depart.</p> - -<p class="normal">All that passed, relative to the reception of the legate, was -faithfully transmitted to Pope Innocent III.; and the very enthusiasm -shown by the barons of France in the cause of their lovely queen made -the pontiff tremble for his authority. The immense increase of power -which the bishops of Rome had acquired by the victory their incessant -and indefatigable intrigues had won, even over the spirit of Frederick -Barbarossa, wanted yet the stability of antiquity; and it was on this -account that Innocent III. dreaded so much that Philip might -successfully resist the domination of the church even in one single -instance.</p> - -<p class="normal">There were other motives, however, which, in the course, of the -contest about to be here recorded, mingled with his conduct a degree -of personal acrimony towards the king of France. Of an imperious and -jealous nature, the pontiff met with resistance first from Philip -Augustus, and his ambition came only in aid of his anger. The election -of the emperor of Germany was one cause of difference; Philip Augustus -supporting with all his power Philip of Suabia; and the pope not only -supporting, but crowning with his own hands, Otho, nephew of John, -king of England,--although great doubts existed in regard to his -legitimate election.</p> - -<p class="normal">As keen and clear-sighted as he was ambitious, Innocent saw that in -Philip Augustus he had an adversary as intent upon increasing his own -authority, as he himself could be upon extending the power of the -church. He saw the exact point of opposition; he saw the powerful mind -and political strength of his antagonist; but he saw also that -Philip's power, when acting against his own, must greatly depend upon -the progress of the human mind towards a more enlightened state, which -advance must necessarily be slow and difficult; while the foundations -of his own power had been laid by ages of superstition, and were -strengthened by all those habits and ceremonies to which the heart of -man clings in every state, but more especially in a state of darkness.</p> - -<p class="normal">Resolved at once to strike the blow, it happened favourably for the -views of the pope, that the first question where his authority was -really compromised, was one in which the strongest passions of his -adversary were engaged, while his own mind was free to direct its -energies by the calm rule of judgment. It is but justice also to say, -that though Innocent felt the rejection of his interference as an -insult, and beheld the authority of the church despised with no small -wrath, yet all his actions and his letters, though firm and decided, -were calm and temperate. Still, he menaced not without having resolved -to strike; and the only answer he returned to the request of the -cardinal of St. Mary's for farther instructions, was an order to call -a council of the bishops of France, for the purpose of excommunicating -Philip as rebel to the will of the church, and of fulminating an -interdict against the whole of the realm. So severe a sentence, -however, alarmed the bishops of France; and, at their intercession, -the legate delayed for a time its execution, in hopes that, by some -concession, Philip might turn away the wrath of the church.</p> - -<p class="normal">In the meanwhile, as if the blow with which he was menaced but made -him cling more closely to the object for whose sake he exposed -himself, Philip devoted himself entirely to divert the mind of Agnes -de Meranie from contemplating the fatal truth which she had learned at -last. He now called to her remembrance the enthusiasm with which his -barons had espoused her cause; he pointed out to her that the whole -united bishops of France had solemnly pronounced the dissolution of -his incomplete marriage with the Princess of Denmark; and he assured -her, that were it but to protect the rights of his clergy and his -kingdom from the grasping ambition of the see of Rome, he would resist -its interference, and maintain his independence with the last drop of -his blood.</p> - -<p class="normal">At other times he strove to win her away even from the recollection of -her situation; and he himself seemed almost to forget the monarch in -the husband. Sometimes it was in the forests of Compiègne, Senlis, or -Fontainbleau, chasing the stag or the boar, and listening to the music -of the hounds, the ringing horns, and the echoing woods. Sometimes it -was in the banquet and the pageant, the tournament or the <i>cour -plenière</i>, with all its crowd, and gaiety, and song. Sometimes it was -in solitude and tranquillity, straying together through lovely scenes, -where nature seemed but to shine back the sweet feelings of their -hearts; and every tone of all summer's gladness seemed to find an echo -in their bosoms.</p> - -<p class="normal">Philip succeeded; and Agnes de Meranie, though her cheek still -remained a shade paler than it had been, and her soft eyes had -acquired a look of pensive languor, had--or seemed to have--forgotten -that there was a soul on earth who disputed her title to the heart of -her husband, and the crown of her realm. She would laugh, and -converse, and sing, and frame gay dreams of joy and happiness to come, -as had been ever her wont; but it was observed that she would start, -and turn pale, when any one came upon her suddenly, as if she still -feared evil news; and, if any thing diverted her thoughts from the gay -current in which she strove to guide them, she would fall into a long -reverie, from which it was difficult to wake her.</p> - -<p class="normal">Thus had passed the time of Philip Augustus and Agnes de Meranie, from -their departure for Compiègne, the day after the tournament. The hours -of Count Thibalt d'Auvergne, however, had been spent in a very -different manner from that which he had anticipated. He had, it is -true, made up his mind to a painful duty; but it was a duty of another -kind he was called to perform. As his foot was in the stirrup to join -the royal cavalcade, for the purpose of proceeding to Compiègne, -according to the king's invitation, a messenger arrived from Auvergne, -bearing the sad news that his father had been suddenly seized with an -illness, from which no hope existed of his recovery; and D'Auvergne, -without loss of time, turned his steps towards Vic le Comte.</p> - -<p class="normal">On his arrival, he found his parent still lingering on the confines -between those two strange worlds, the present and the future: the one -which we pass through, as in a dream, without knowing the realities of -any thing around us; the other, the dreadful inevitability of which we -are fond to clothe in a thousand splendid hopes, putting, as it were, -a crown of glory on the cold and grimly brow of Death.</p> - -<p class="normal">'Twas a sad task to watch the flickering of life's lamp, till the -flame flew off for ever! The Count d'Auvergne, however, performed it -firmly; and having laid the ashes of his father in the earth, he -stayed but to receive the homage of his new vassals, and then turned -his steps once more towards Paris, leaving the government of Auvergne -to his uncle, the famous Count Guy, celebrated both for his jovial -humour and his predatory habits.</p> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<h3>CHAPTER XII.</h3> -<br> - -<p class="continue">We must now once more go back a little in our history and return to -Sir Guy de Coucy, who, on the morning of his friend's departure for -Auvergne, stood at the door of their common dwelling to see him set -out. In the hurry of such a moment there had been no time for many of -those arrangements between the two friends, which the Count d'Auvergne -much wished to have made. However, as he embraced De Coucy at parting, -according to the custom of the day, he whispered in his ear: "The -besants we brought from the Holy Land are in my chamber. If you love -me, De Coucy, remember that we are brothers, and have all things in -common. I shall find you here at my return. If I come not soon I will -send you a messenger." De Coucy nodded his head with a smile, and, -leaning on his large two-handed sword, saw the Count d'Auvergne mount -his horse and depart.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Farewell, D'Auvergne!" said he, as he turned to re-enter the -house,--"perhaps we may never meet again; but De Coucy forgets not thy -generous kindness, though he will not use it. Our fortunes are far too -unequal for us longer to hold a common purse."</p> - -<p class="normal">Be it remarked, however, that the scruples which affected De Coucy on -this occasion were rather singular in the age in which he lived; for -the companionship of arms, which, in their romantic spirit, the -knights of even a much later period often vowed to each other, were -frequently of a stricter and more generous nature than any of our most -solid engagements of life at present; involving not only community of -fortune and of fate, but of friendships and of enmities, of pleasures -and pains, and sometimes of life or death.<a name="div4Ref_15" href="#div4_15"><sup>[15]</sup></a> When once two knights -had exchanged arms, as was often the case, it became their duty to -assist each other on every occasion, with body and goods, during the -expedition in which they were engaged; and sometimes, even for life, -to share all wealth between them, both present and to come; and in -case of one dying, while under an engagement to do battle, (or under a -wager of battle, as it was called,) his companion, or brother in arms, -was bound to fill his place, and maintain his honour in the duel.</p> - -<p class="normal">While in the Holy Land, cut off from frequent supplies, and in -imminent and continual dangers, De Coucy had found no inequality -between himself and Count Thibalt de Auvergne; but now, placed amidst -the ruinous expense of tournaments and courts, he resolved to break -off at once an engagement, where no parity of means existed between -himself and his companion.</p> - -<p class="normal">Slowly, and somewhat sadly, De Coucy returned to his own chamber, -feeling a touch of care that his light heart had not often known -before. "Hugo de Barre," said he, "give me a flask of wine; I have not -tasted my morning's cup, and I am melancholy."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Shall I put some comfits in it, beau sire?" demanded the squire. "I -have often known your worship get over a bad fit of love, by a -ladle-full of comfits in a cup of Cyprus."</p> - -<p class="normal">"As thou wilt, Hugo," answered the knight; "but 'tis not love I want -to cure, now-a-day."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Marry! I thought, sire Guy," replied Hugo de Barre, "that it was all -for love of the Lady Isadore; but then, again, I fancied it was -strange, if you loved her, that you should leave her at Senlis, and -not go on with her to her own castle, and strive to win her!"</p> - -<p class="normal">"Her father was going to lodge with the sire de Montmorency, my cousin -Enguerand's sworn foe," replied De Coucy; "and even after that, he -goes not home, but speeds to Rouen, to mouth it with John, king of -England.--By my faith!" he added, speaking to himself, "that old man -will turn out a rebel from simple folly. He must needs be meddling -with treason, but to make himself important. Yet D'Auvergne says he -was a good warrior in his day. I wish I could keep his fingers from -the fire, were it but for his daughter's love--sweet girl!"</p> - -<p class="normal">Had De Coucy been alone, he would probably have thought what he now -said, yet would not have spoken it; but having begun by addressing his -attendant, he went on aloud, though the latter part of what he said -was, in reality, merely a part of his commune with himself. Hugo de -Barre, however, who had, on more than one occasion been thus made, as -it were, a speaking-block by his master, understood the process of De -Coucy's mind, and stood silent till his lord had done.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Then you do love the lady, beau sire?" said he at last, venturing -more than he usually did upon such occasions.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Well, well! Hugo, what is it to thee?" demanded De Coucy. "I will not -keep thee out all night, as when I courted the princess of Syracuse."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Nay, but I love the Lady Isadore better than ever I did the princess -of Syracuse," replied the squire; "and I would stay out willingly many -a night for her sake, so she would be my lord's true lady. Look ye, my -lord! You have seen her wear this bracelet of cloth of gold," he -continued, drawing forth a piece of fine linen, in which was wrapped a -broad band of cloth of gold, not at all unlike the bracelets of gilded -wire, lately so much the mode amongst the fair dames of London and -Paris. "I asked one of her maidens to steal it for me."</p> - -<p class="normal">"You did not, surely, Hugo!" cried De Coucy. "How dare you be so bold -with any noble lady, sirrah?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"Nay, then, I will give it back," replied the squire. "I had intended -the theft to have profited your lordship; but I will give it back. The -Lady Isadore, it is true, knew that her damsel took it; but still it -was a theft; and I will give it back again. She knew, too, that it was -I who asked it; and doubtless guessed it was you, beau sire, would -have it; but I had better give it back."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Nay, nay! good Hugo," replied De Coucy; "give it me. I knew not you -were so skilful in such matters. I knew you were a good scout, but not -in sir Cupid's army.--Give it me!"</p> - -<p class="normal">"Nay, beau sire, I had better give it back," replied the Squire; "and -then I will fall into my duty again, and look for nothing but -routiers, cotereaux, and the like. But there is something more I -wished to tell you, sir: old Giles, the squire of the good Count -Julian, told me, that if his lord keep his mind of going to Rouen, he -must needs in three weeks' time pass within sight of our own--that is -to say, your own--castle. Now, would it not be fair sport, to lay an -ambush for the whole party, and take them prisoners, and bring them to -the castle?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"By my faith! it would," replied the knight. "But how is this, -Hugo?--thou art a changed man. Ever since I have known thee, which is -since I was not higher than my dagger, thou hast shown thyself as -stiff and sturdy a piece of old iron, as any of the corslets that hang -by the wall; and now thou art craving bracelets, and laying ambushes -for fair ladies, as if thou hadst been bred up in the very palace of -Love. Methinks that same damsel, who stole the bracelet for thee, must -have woke up some new spirit in thy heart of stone, to make thine -outward man so pliable. Why, compared to what thou wert, Hugo, thou -art as a deer-skin coat to a steel plastron. Art thou not in love, -man? Answer me!"</p> - -<p class="normal">"Something like it, I fear me, beau sire," replied the squire. "And as -it is arranged between me and Alixe, that if you win the lady, I am to -have the maid, we are resolved to set our wits to work to help your -lordship on."</p> - -<p class="normal">"By my life! a hopeful plot," replied De Coucy: "and well do I know, -Hugo, that the maid's good word is often as much gained as the -mistress's smile. But go, order to saddle; leave the bracelet with me; -and as soon as the horses be ready, De Coucy will spur on for the home -of his fathers."</p> - -<p class="normal">The squire delivered the bracelet to his lord, and left the apartment; -and no sooner was he gone, than De Coucy carried the bracelet to his -lips, to his forehead, and his heart, with as much fervour of -devotion, as ever monk showed for the most sacred relic of his church.</p> - -<p class="normal">"She knew that her damsel took it!--she knew that it was for me!" -exclaimed he in an ecstasy of delight, which every one who can feel, -may have felt on discovering some such unlooked-for source of -happiness. Stretching out his hand, De Coucy then took up the rote, -which, as a true trouvère, he made his inseparable companion. It was -an age when poetry was a language--the real, not the figurative -language of love--when song was in the heart of every one, ready to -break forth the moment that passion or enthusiasm called for -aid;--and, in the acme of his gladness, the young knight sang to the -instrument a ballad, composed, indeed, long before; but the concluding -verse of which he altered to suit his feelings at the moment.</p> -<div class="poem2"> - -<h3>SONG.</h3> - -<h3>I.</h3> - -<p class="t0">"I rode my battle-horse afar--</p> -<p class="t2">A long, a long, and weary way;</p> -<p class="t0">Fading I saw night's latest star,</p> -<p class="t2">And morning's prime, and risen day,</p> -<p class="t3">But still the desert around me lay.</p> -<br> -<h3>II.</h3> - -<p class="t0">On, on, o'er burning sands I rode,</p> -<p class="t2">Beneath a red and angry sky;</p> -<p class="t0">Burning, the air around me glow'd;</p> -<p class="t2">My tongue was parch'd, my lip was dry:--</p> -<p class="t0">I would have given worlds for the west-wind's sigh.</p> -<br> -<h3>III.</h3> - -<p class="t0">With fever'd blood, and fiery eye,</p> -<p class="t2">And rent and aching brow, I go;</p> -<p class="t0">When, oh the rapture to descry</p> -<p class="t2">The palm-trees green, the fountain low,</p> -<p class="t3">Where welling waters sweetly flow!</p> -<br> -<h3>IV.</h3> - -<p class="t0">Through life, as o'er that Syrian plain,</p> -<p class="t2">Alone I've wander'd from a child,</p> -<p class="t0">Thirsting for love, yet all in vain,</p> -<p class="t2">'Till now, when sweet and undefiled,</p> -<p class="t3">I find Love's fountain in the wild."</p> -</div> - -<p class="normal">De Coucy sang, and then again pressed the token which he had obtained -to his lips, and to his heart; when suddenly a loud "Haw, haw! haw, -haw!" startled him from his pleasing dreams, and he saw Gallon the -fool standing beside him.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Haw, haw!" cried Gallon; "my master's turned juggler, and is playing -with scraps of gold ribbon, and singing songs to them. By my -dexterity! I'll give up the trade: the mystery is no longer -honourable--every fool can do it."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Take care that one fool does not get his ears slit," answered De -Coucy.--"Tell me, sir, and tell me truly,--for I know thee, Gallon, -and that thou art no more fool than may serve thy turn,--where hast -thou been since daybreak, this morning?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"I went out on the road to Compiègne," replied Gallon gravely, "to see -how the wolf looked in the sheepfold; and whether the falcon comported -himself sociably in the dove's nest. Farther, I sought to behold how -the shepherd enjoyed the sight of sir wolf toying with the lamb; and -still farther----"</p> - -<p class="normal">"Villain!" cried De Coucy, "what mean you? Speak me no more apologues, -or your skin shall suffer for it! What mean you, I say?" and De Coucy -suddenly seized the juggler by the arm, so as to prevent him from -escaping by his agility, which he frequently did, from the blow which -he menaced to bestow on him with his other hand.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Well! well!" cried Gallon, ever willing to say any thing that he -thought might alarm, or mortify, or pain his hearers. "I went first, -beau sire, to inquire of a dear friend of mine, at the palace--who -fell in love with me, because, and on account of, the simple beauty -and grace of my snout--whether it be true, that Philip the Magnificent -had taken actual possession of the lands of your aunt's husband, the -Count de Tankerville; and I find he has, and called in all the -revenues to the royal treasury. Oh! 'tis a great king and an -expeditious!--Haw, haw, haw!" and though within reach of the young -knight's arm. Gallon the fool could not repress his glee at the sight -of a slight shade of natural mortification that came over his lord's -countenance.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Let him," cried De Coucy,--"let him take them all! I would rather -that he had them than the duke of Burgundy. Better they should go to -strengthen a good king, than to nourish a fat and overgrown -vassal.--But you escape me not so, sir Gallon! You said you went on -the road to Compiègne to see how the wolf looked, in the sheepfold! -Translate, sir fool! Translate! What meant you?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"Simply to see Count Thibalt d'Auvergne and Queen Agnes de Meranie," -replied the jongleur.--"Haw, haw!--Is there any harm in that?"</p> - -<p class="normal">De Coucy started, as if some one had struck him, experiencing that -sort of astonishment which one feels, when suddenly some fact, to -which we have long shut our eyes, breaks upon us at once, in all the -sharpness of self-evidency--if one may use the word. "'Tis -impossible!" cried he. "It cannot be! 'Tis not to be believed!"</p> - -<p class="normal">"Haw, haw, haw!" cried Gallon the fool. "Not to be doubted, beau sire -De Coucy!--Did he not join your good knighthood as blithe and merry as -a lark, after having spent some three months at the court of Istria -and Moravia?--Did he not go on well and gaily, till the news came that -Philip of France had wedded Agnes de Meranie?--Then did he not, in -your own tent, turn paler than the canvass that covered him?--And did -he not thenceforth wax wan and lack-witted, sick and sorrowful?--Ha, -haw? Ha, haw!"</p> - -<p class="normal">"Cease thy grinning, knave!" cried De Coucy sharply, "and know, that -even if he does love the queen, 'tis in all honour and honesty; as one -may dedicate one's heart and soul, one's lance and song, to the -greatest princess on all the earth, without dreaming aught to her -dishonour."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Haw, haw, haw! haw, haw!" was all the answer of Gallon the fool; and -darting away from the relaxed grasp of De Coucy, on whose brow he saw -clearly a gathering storm, he rushed down, shouting "Haw, haw! haw, -haw!" with as keen an accent of triumph, as if he had gained a -victory.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Is it possible?" said the knight to himself, "that I have been blind -for nearly two years to what has been discovered by an idiot on the -instant? God bless us all, and the holy saints!--D'Auvergne! -D'Auvergne! I pity thee, from my soul! for where thou hast loved, and -loved so fair a creature, there wilt thou still love, till the -death. Nor art thou a man to seek to quench thy love in thy lady's -dishonour--to learn to gratify thy passion and to despise its object, -as some men would. Here thy very nobleness, like plumes to the -ostrich, is thy bane and not thy help. And Philip too. If e'er a king -was born to be jealous, he is the man. I would not for a dukedom love -so hopelessly. However, D'Auvergne, I will be near thee--near to thy -dangers, though not to thy wealth."</p> - -<p class="normal">At this point, the contemplations of De Coucy were interrupted by the -return of Hugo de Barre, his squire, informing him that the horses -were ready; and at the same time laying down on the table before his -lord a small leathern bag, apparently full of money.</p> - -<p class="normal">"What is that?" demanded De Coucy.</p> - -<p class="normal">"The ransom of the two knights' horses and armour, overthrown by your -lance in the yesterday's tournament," replied the squire.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Well, then, pay the two hireling grooms," said De Coucy, "whom we -engaged to lead the two Arabians from Auvergne, since we discharged -the Lombards who brought them thither."</p> - -<p class="normal">"They will not be paid, beau sire," replied the squire. "They both -pray you to employ the hire which is their due in furnishing them with -each a horse and arms, and then to let them serve under your banner."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Well, be it so, good Hugo," replied the knight. "Where--God knows -where I shall find food to cram their mouths withal! 'Twill add too, -however, to my poor following. Then, with thee and the page, and my -own two varlets, we shall make seven:--eight with Gallon the fool. By -my faith! I forgot the juggler, who is as stout a man-at-arms as any -amongst us. But, as I said, get thee gone with the men to the Rue St. -Victor, where the Haubergers dwell. Give them each a sword, a shield, -a corslet, and a steel bonnet: but make them cast away those long -knives hanging by their thighs which I love not;--they always make me -think of that one wherewith the villain slave of Mahound ripped up my -good battle-horse Hero; and would have slain me with it too, if I had -not dashed him to atoms with my mace. Ride quick, and overtake me and -the rest on the road: we go at a foot-pace." So saying, Guy de Coucy -descended the narrow staircase of his dwelling; and, after having -spoken for a few moments with one of the attendants of the Count -d'Auvergne, who had remained behind, he mounted his horse, and rode -slowly out of the city of Paris.</p> - -<p class="normal">There is no possible mode of progression, that I know of, more -engendering of melancholy than the foot-pace of a horse when one is -alone. It is so like the slow and retarded pace which, whether we will -or not, we are obliged to pursue on the high-road of life; and each -object, as it rises on our view, seems such a long age in its -approach, that one feels an almost irresistible desire, at every other -step, to give the whip or spur, and accelerate the heart's slow -beatings by some more rapid movement of the body. Did one wish to -cultivate their stupidity, let them ride their horse, at a walk, over -one of the long, straight roads of France.</p> - -<p class="normal">The face of the country, however, was in those days very different -from what it is at present; and the narrow, earthy road over which De -Coucy travelled, wound in and out over hills and through forests: now -plunging into the deep wood; now emerging by the bright stream; now -passing, for a short space, through vineyards and fields, with a -hamlet or a village by the road-side; now losing itself in wilds and -solitudes, where one might well suppose that Adam's likeness had been -never seen.</p> - -<p class="normal">The continual changing of the objects around relieved, of course, the -monotony of the slow pace at which De Coucy had condemned himself to -proceed, while expecting of his squire's return; and a calm sort of -melancholy was all he felt, as he revolved in his mind the various -points of his own situation and that of his friend the Count -d'Auvergne.</p> - -<p class="normal">In regard to himself, new feelings had sprung up in his -bosom--feelings that he had heard of, but never known before. He -loved, and he fancied he was beloved; and dreams, and hopes, and -expectations, softer, calmer, more profound than ever had reached him -in camps or courts, flowed in upon his heart, like the stream of some -deep, pure river, and washed away all that was rude and light, or -unworthy in his bosom. Yet, at the same time, all the tormenting -contentions of hope and fear--the fine hair balancings of doubt and -anxiety--the soul torturings of that light and malicious imp, Love, -took possession of the heart of De Coucy; and he calculated, within -the hundred thousandth part of a line, how much chance there existed -of Isadore of the Mount not loving him,--and of her loving some one -else,--and of her father, who was rich, rejecting him, who was -poor,--and of his having promised her to some one else;--and so on to -infinity. At length, weary of his own reasonings thereupon, and -laughing at himself for combating the chimeras of his own imagination, -he endeavoured to turn his thoughts to other things, humming as he -went--</p> -<div class="poem2"> - -<p class="t0" style="text-indent:-12px">"'The man's a fool--the man's a fool<br> -That lets Love use him for a tool:<br> -But is that man the gods above,<br> -Himself unused, who uses love.'</p> -</div> -<p class="continue">"--And so will I," continued De Coucy mentally. "It shall prompt me to -great deeds, and to mighty efforts. I will go to every court in -Europe, and challenge them all to do battle with me upon the question. -I will fight in every combat and every skirmish that can be met with, -till they cannot refuse her to me, out of pure shame."</p> - -<p class="normal">Such were the determinations of De Coucy in the age of chivalry, and -he was one more likely than most men to keep such determinations. -They, however, like all resolutions, were of course modified by -circumstances; and in the mean while, his squire, Hugo, rejoined him -with the two varlets, who had been hired in Auvergne to lead his -horses, but who were now fitted to make a figure in the train of so -warlike a knight.</p> - -<p class="normal">Still the prospect of his cold and vacant home, with no smile to give -him welcome, and, as he well knew, nothing but poverty for his -entertainment, sat somewhat heavily upon the young knight's heart. To -lodge upon the battle plain, under a covering that scarce excluded the -weather; to feed on the coarsest and most scanty food; to endure all -perils and privations, for chivalry's, religion's, or his country's -sake, was nothing to the bold and hardy soldier, whose task and pride -it was so to suffer: but, for the châtelain, De Coucy, to return to -the castle where his fathers had lived in splendour,--to the bowers -and halls where his infancy had been nursed with tenderness,--and to -find all empty and desolate; the wealth and magnificence wasted in the -thousand fruitless enterprises of the crusades, and the loved and -familiar laid low in the melancholy dwellings of the gone, was bitter, -sadly bitter, even for a young, light heart, and unquenchable spirit -like his.</p> - -<p class="normal">One of his ancestors, who, in the reign of Henry the First, had -founded the younger branch of the De Coucy's, of which he was now the -sole representative, had done important services to the crown, and had -been rewarded by the hand of Aleonore de Magny, on the Seine, heiress -of the last <i>terre libre</i>, or free land, in France; and this his race -had maintained, in its original freedom, against all the surrounding -barons, and even against the repeated efforts of every successive -king, who, on all occasions, attempted to exact homage by force, or to -win it by policy. His father, indeed, before taking the cross, which -he did at the persuasion of Louis the Seventh, had put his lands under -the protection of the king, who, on his part, promised to guard its -inviolability against all and every one; and acknowledged by charter -under his hand and seal, that it was free and independent of the -crown.</p> - -<p class="normal">The <i>manoir</i>, or <i>castel</i>, of every baron of the time, was always a -building of more or less strength; but it is to be supposed, of -course, that the château attached to lands in continual dispute, was -fortified with an additional degree of precaution and care. Nor was -this wanting in the château of De Coucy Magny, as it was called: wall, -and battlement, tower, turret, and bartizan, overhung every angle of -the hill on which it was placed, and rendered it almost impregnable, -according to the mode of warfare of those days.</p> - -<p class="normal">When De Coucy had left it, with his father's men-at-arms, though age -had blackened it, not one stone was less in the castle-walls,--not a -weed was on the battlements; and even the green ivy, that true -parasite which sucks the vital strength of that which supports it, was -carefully removed from the masonry.</p> - -<p class="normal">But, oh! how fast decay speeds on, even by the neglect of ten short -years! When De Coucy returned, the evening sun was setting behind the -hill on which the castle stood; and, as he led his scanty band of -horsemen up the winding and difficult path, he could see, by the -rough, uneven outline of the dark mass before him, what ravages time -had already made. High above the rest, the donjon, which used to seem -proud of its square regularity, now towered with one entire angle of -its battlements given way, and with many a bush and shrub waving its -long feathery foliage from window and from loophole; while the -neglected state of the road, and even the tameness of the wild animals -in the woods near the château; the hares and the deer, which stood and -gazed with their large round eyes for many moments at De Coucy and his -followers before they started away, told, with a sad moral, that man -was seldom seen there.</p> - -<p class="normal">De Coucy sighed as he rode on; and, stopping at the gates of the -barbican, which, thickly plated and studded with iron, opposed all -entrance, wound a long blast upon his horn. A moment after, the noise -of bolts and bars was heard, as if the doors were about to be thrown -open; but then again came the sound of an old man's voice, exclaiming -in a tone of querulous anger--"Hold, hold! Villain Calord! Will you -give up the castle to the cotereaux? Hold, I say! or I will break thy -pate! I saw them from the beffroy. They are a band of cotereaux. Go -round to the serfs' sheds, and bid them come and take their bows to -the walls. Up you, and ring the bancloche, that we may have the -soldiers from Magny!"</p> - -<p class="normal">"Onfroy! Onfroy!" shouted De Coucy. "Open your gates! 'Tis I, Guy de -Coucy!"</p> - -<p class="normal">"Your voice I know not!" roared the old man in reply. "My young lord -had a soft, sweet voice; and yours is as deep as a bell. I know not -your voice, fair sir.--Man the walls, I say, Calord! 'Tis all a -trick," he continued, speaking to his companion. "Sound the -bancloche!"</p> - -<p class="normal">"If you know not my voice," cried De Coucy, "surely you should know -the blast I have sounded on my horn!"</p> - -<p class="normal">"Sound again, beau sire!--sound again!" cried the old man. "I will -know your blast among ten thousand, if you be a De Coucy; and if you -be my young lord, I will know it in all the world."</p> - -<p class="normal">De Coucy put his horn to his lips and reiterated his blast, when -instantly the old man exclaimed--"'Tis he!--'tis he, Calord!--Open the -gates--open the gates, quick! lest I die of joy before I see his face -again! 'Tis he himself! The blessed Virgin, queen of heaven, be -praised for all things--Give me the keys--give me the keys, Calord!" -and no sooner were the doors pushed back, than casting himself on his -knees before his lord's horse, with the tears of joy coursing each -other rapidly down his withered face, the old seneschal exclaimed, -"Enter, noble châtelain! and take your own; and God be praised, my -dear boy! and the holy Virgin, and St. John, and St. Peter, but more -especially St. Martin of Tours! for having brought you safe back again -from the dangers of Palestine, where your noble father has left his -valiant bones! Here are the keys, which I offer into your hand, beau -sire," he continued, looking earnestly at De Coucy, and wiping the -salt rheum that obscured his sight. "And yet I can scarce believe," he -added, "that young Guy, the last of the three fair youths--he who was -not up to my shoulder when he went, whom I first taught to draw a bow, -or wheel a horse--that young Guy, the page--and a saucy stripling he -was too--my blessing on his waggish head!--that young Guy the page -should have grown into so tall and strong a man as you, beau -sire!--Are you not putting upon me? Was it truly you that blew that -blast?" and his eye ran over the persons who followed behind his -lord.--"But no!" he added, "it must be he! I know his blue eye, and -the curl of his lip; and I have heard how he is a great knight -now-a-days, and slays Saracens, and bears away the prizes at -tournays:--I have heard it all!"</p> - -<p class="normal">De Coucy calmly let the old man finish his speech, without offering to -take the keys, which from time to time he proffered, as a sort of -interjection between the various parts of his disjointed discourse. -"It is even I, good Onfroy," replied he at last: "keep the keys!--keep -the keys, good old man!--they cannot be in worthier hands than yours. -But now let us in. I bring you, as you see, no great reinforcement; -but I hope your garrison is not so straitened for provisions, that you -cannot give us some supper, for we are hungry, though we be few."</p> - -<p class="normal">"We will kill a hog--we will kill a hog, beau sire!" replied the old -man. "I have kept chiefly to the hogs, beau sire, since you were -gone, for they cost nothing to keep--the acorns of the forest serve -them--and they have increased wonderfully! Oh, we have plenty of hogs; -but as to cows, and sheep, and things of that kind, that eat much and -profit little, I was obliged to abandon them when I sent you the last -silver I could get, as you commanded."</p> - -<p class="normal">De Coucy signified his perfect indifference as to whether his supper -consisted of mutton, beef, or pork; and riding through the barbican, -into the enclosure of the walls, he crossed the court and alighted at -the great gates of the hall, which were thrown open to receive him.</p> - -<p class="normal">Calord, the servant or varlet of the seneschal, had run on before, to -light a torch; for the day was beginning to fail, and the immense -apartment was of its own nature dark and gloomy; but still, all within -was dim. The rays of the torch, though held high, and waved round and -round, scarcely served to show some dark lustreless suits of armour -hung against the walls; and the figures of some of the serfs, who had -stolen into the farther extremity of the hall, to catch a glimpse of -their returned lord, seemed like spirits moving about on the dark -confines of another world; while more than one bat, startled even by -the feeble light, took wing and fluttered amongst the old banners -overhead. At the same time, as if dreary sounds were wanting to -complete the gloominess of the young knight's return, the clanging of -his footsteps upon the pavement of the empty hall, awoke a long, wild -echo, which, prolonged through the open doors communicating with -untenanted halls and galleries beyond, seemed the very voice of -solitude bewailing her disturbed repose.</p> - -<p class="normal">It all fell cold upon De Coucy's heart; and, laying his hand on the -old seneschal's shoulder, as he was about to begin one of his long -discourses:--"Do not speak to me just now, good Onfroy!" said the -young knight; "I am not in a vein to listen to any thing. But throw on -a fire in yon empty hearth; for, though it be July, this hall has a -touch of January. Thou hast the key of the books too:--bring them -all down, good Onfroy; I will seek some moral that may teach -contentment.--Set down my harp beside me, good page." And having given -these directions, De Coucy cast himself into the justice-chair of his -ancestors, and, covering his eyes with his hands, gave himself up to -no very sweet contemplations.</p> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<h3>CHAPTER XIII.</h3> -<br> - -<p class="continue">It would seem a strange command in our day, were any one to order his -servant to bring down the library; and certainly would infer a much -more operose undertaking than fell to the lot of old Onfroy, the -seneschal, who, while Calord, his man, cast almost a whole tree in the -chimney, and the varlets of De Coucy unloaded his baggage-horses, -easily brought down a small wooden box, containing the whole -literature of the château. And yet, perhaps, had not the De Coucys, -from father to son, been distinguished trouvères, no such treasure of -letters would their castle have contained; for, to count the nobles of -the kingdom throughout, scarce one in a hundred could read and write.</p> - -<p class="normal">De Coucy, however, had wasted--as it was then called--some of his -earlier years in the study of profane literature, till the death of -his two elder brothers had called him from such pursuits; from which -time his whole course of reading had been in the romances of the day, -where figured either Charlemagne with his peers and paladins, or the -heroes, writers, and philosophers of antiquity, all mingled together, -and habited as knights and magicians.</p> - -<p class="normal">A manuscript, however, in those days, was of course much more precious -in the eyes of those who could read, than such a thing possibly can be -now; and De Coucy, hoping, as many have done since, to shelter himself -behind a book, from the sharp attacks of unpleasant thought, eagerly -opened the manifold bars and bucklings of the wooden case, and took -out the first vellum that his hand fell upon. This proved to be but a -collection of tensons, lais, and pastourelles,--all of which he knew -by heart, so that he was obliged to search farther. The next he came -to had nearly shared the same fate, being a copy of the Life of Louis -the Fat, written in Latin a few years before, by Suger, abbot of St. -Denis. The Latin, however, was easy, and De Coucy's erudition coining -to his aid, he read various passages from those various pages, wherein -the great minister who wrote it gives such animated pictures of all -that passed immediately previous to the very age and scenes amidst -which the young knight was then living. At length his eye rested on -the epigraph of the sixteenth chapter, "Concerning the treachery -committed at the Roche Guyon, by William, brother-in-law of the -king;--concerning, also, the death of Guy; and the speedy vengeance -that overtook William."</p> - -<p class="normal">No title could have been more attractive in the eyes of De Coucy; and -skipping a very little of his text, where his remembrance of the -language failed him, he went on to read.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Upon a promontory formed by the great river Seine, at a spot -difficult of access, is built an ignoble castle, of a frightful -aspect, called La Roche Guyon. On the surface of the promontory the -castle is invisible, being hollowed out of the bowels of the high -rock. The skilful hand of him who formed it has cut the high rock -itself on the side of the hill, and by a mean and narrow opening has -practised a subterranean habitation of immense extent.</p> - -<p class="center" style="letter-spacing:3em">* * * * *</p> - -<p class="normal">"This subterranean castle, not more hideous in the sight of men than -in the sight of God, had about this time for its lord, Guy de la Roche -Guyon,--a young man of gentle manners, a stranger to the wickedness of -his ancestors. He had indeed interrupted its course, and showed -himself resolved to lead a tranquil and honourable life, free from -their infamous and greedy rapacity.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Surprised by the very position of his wretched castle, and massacred -by the treachery of his own father-in-law, the most wicked of the -wicked, he lost, by an unexpected blow, both his dwelling and his -life.</p> - -<p class="normal">"William, his father-in-law, was by birth a Norman; and, unequalled in -treachery, he made himself appear the dearest friend of his daughter's -husband. This man, tormented by black envy, and brewing wicked -designs, unhappily found, on the evening of a certain Sunday, an -opportunity of executing his diabolical designs. He came then, with -his arms covered with a mantle, and accompanied by a handful of -assassins; and mingled himself, though with very different thoughts, -amongst a crowd of pious people hastening to a church, which -communicated by a passage in the rock with the subterranean castle of -Guy. For some time, while the rest gave themselves up to prayer, he -feigned to pray also; but, in truth, occupied himself in examining -attentively the passage communicating with the dwelling of his -son-in-law. At that moment, Guy entered the church; when, drawing his -sword, and seconded by his criminal associates, William, madly -yielding to the iniquity of his heart, cast himself into the doorway, -and struck down his son-in-law, who was already smiling a welcome upon -him, when he felt the edge of his sword. The noble bride of the -châtelain, stupefied at the sight, tore her hair and her cheeks, after -the manner of women in their anger, and running towards her husband, -without fearing the fate that menaced her, she cast herself upon him -to cover his body from the blows of the murderer, crying, while he -received a thousand wounds,--'Vile butchers! slay me rather than -him!--What has he done to merit death?'"</p> - -<p class="center" style="letter-spacing:3em">* * * * *</p> - -<p class="normal">"Seizing her by the hair, the assassins dragged her away from her -husband, who, crushed by their repeated blows, pierced by their -swords, and almost torn in pieces with his various wounds, soon -expired under their hands. Not contented yet, with a degree of cruelty -worthy of Herod, such of his unhappy children as they could find they -dashed mercilessly against the rock--"<a name="div4Ref_16" href="#div4_16"><sup>[16]</sup></a></p> - -<p class="normal">"Give me my lance!" cried De Coucy, starting up, with his blood -boiling at this picture of an age so near his own--"give me my lance, -ho! By all the saints of France----"</p> - -<p class="normal">But at that moment remembering that the event which Suger recounted -must have taken place full fifty years before, and therefore that none -of the actors therein could be a fit object for the vengeance which he -had thought of inflicting with his own hand, he sat down again, and -read out the tale, running rapidly through the murderer's first -triumphant contemplation of the property he had obtained by the death -of his son-in-law, and even of his own daughter, but pausing with an -angry sort of gladness over the detail of the signal punishment -inflicted on him and his accomplices. Nor did he find the barbarous -aggravation of tearing his heart from his bosom, and casting his body, -attached to a plank, into the river Seine, to float to his native -place, in any degree too horrible an award for so horrible a villain. -On the contrary, starting from his chair, with all the circumstances -of his own fate forgotten, he was striding up and down the hall, -wishing that this same bloodthirsty Guillaume had been alive then to -meet him in fight; when suddenly, just as the old seneschal was -bustling in to lay out the table for his young lord's supper, the -long, loud blast of a horn sounded at the outer gates.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Throw open the gates, and see who is there!" cried De Coucy. "By the -blessed rood! I have visiters early!"</p> - -<p class="normal">"In the holy Virgin's name! beau sire, open not the gates to-night!" -cried the old seneschal. "You do not know what you do. All the -neighbouring barons have driven the cotereaux off their own lands on -to yours, because it is here a <i>terre libre</i>; and there are at least -two thousand in the woods round about. Be ruled. Sir Guy!--be ruled!"</p> - -<p class="normal">"Ha, say you?" cried De Coucy. "But how is it, good Onfroy, that you -can then drive out the swine you speak of, to feed in the forest?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"Because--because--because, beau sire," replied the old man, -hesitating as if he feared the effect of his answer,--"because I -agreed with their chief, that if he and his would never show -themselves within half a league of the castle, I would pay him a -tribute of two fat hogs monthly.</p> - -<p class="normal">"A tribute!" thundered De Coucy, striking his clenched fist upon the -table--"a tribute!" Then suddenly lowering his voice, he added: "Oh, -my good Onfroy! what are the means of a De Coucy shrunk to, that his -castle, in his absence even, should pay a tribute to thieves and -pick-purses! How many able serfs have you within the walls? I know -your power was small. How many?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"But nine good men, and three old ones," replied the seneschal, -shaking his head sadly; "and they are but serfs, you know, my lord--I -am but weakling, now-a-day; and Calord, though a freeman, has known no -service."</p> - -<p class="normal">"And how many vassals bound to furnish a man?" demanded De -Coucy.--"Throw open the gates, I say!" he continued, turning fiercely -upon Calord, while the horn sounded again. "I would fain see the -coterel who should dare to take two steps in this hall with Guy de -Coucy standing by his own hearth. How many vassals, Onfroy?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"But seven, beau sire," replied the old man, looking from time to time -towards the door of the hall, which led out into the court, and which -Calord had left open behind him,--"but seven, Sir Guy; and they are -only bound to a forty days' riding in the time of war."</p> - -<p class="normal">"And now tell me, Onfroy," continued De Coucy, standing as calmly with -his back towards the door as if he had been surrounded by a host of -his friends. "If you have paid this tribute, why are you now afraid of -these thieves?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"Because, Sir Guy," replied the seneschal, "the last month's hogs have -not been sent; there being soldiers of the king's down at the town, -within sound of the bancloche.--But see, Sir Guy! see! they are -pouring into the court! I told you how 'twould be!--See, see!--torches -and all! Well, one can die now as well as a week hence!"</p> - -<p class="normal">De Coucy turned, and at first the number of horsemen that were filing -into the court, two at a time, as they mounted the steep and narrow -road, almost induced him to bid the gates be shut, that he might deal -with them with some equably: but a second glance changed his purpose, -for though here and there was to be seen a haubert or a plastron -glistening in the torch-light, by far the greater part of the horsemen -were in the garb of peace.</p> - -<p class="normal">"These are no cotereaux, good Onfroy," said he, staying the old -seneschal, who was in the act of drawing down from the wall some rusty -monument of wars long gone. "These are peaceable guests, and must be -as well treated as we may. For the cotereaux, I will take order with -them before I be two days older; and they shall find the woods of De -Coucy Magny too hot a home for summer weather.--Who is it seeks De -Coucy?" he continued, advancing as he saw one of the cavalcade -dismounting at the hall door.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Guillaume de la Roche Guyon," replied the stranger, walking forward -into the hall; while De Coucy, with his mind full of all he had just -been reading connected with that name, instinctively started back, and -laid his hand on his dagger; but, instantly remembering himself, he -advanced to meet the cavalier, and welcomed him to the château.</p> - -<p class="normal">The stranger was a slight young man, without other arms than his -sword; but he wore knightly spurs and belt, and in the front of his -hat appeared the form of a grasshopper, beautifully modelled in gold. -His features had instantly struck De Coucy as being familiar to him, -but it was principally this little emblem, joined with a silk scarf -hanging from his neck, that fully recalled to his mind the young -troubadour he had seen at the château of Vic le Comte.</p> - -<p class="normal">"I crave your hospitality, beau sire, for myself and train," said the -young stranger. "Hardly acquainted with this part of fair France, for -my greater feofs lie in sweet Provence, I have lost my way in these -forests--But methinks we have met before, noble châtelain;" and as he -recognised De Coucy, a slight degree of paleness spread over the -youth's face.</p> - -<p class="normal">De Coucy, however, remarked it not: his was one of those generous -natures, from which resentments pass like clouds from the summer sun, -and he forgot entirely a slight feeling of jealousy which the young -troubadour had excited in his bosom while at Vic le Comte; and, -instead of wishing, as he had then done, to have him face to face in -deadly arms, he welcomed him to his château with every hospitable -greeting.</p> - -<p class="normal">"'Tis but an hour since I arrived myself, good knight," said he; "and -after a ten years' absence my castle is scantily furnished for the -reception of such an honourable guest. But see thou servest us the -best of all we have, Onfroy, and speedily."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Haw, haw! haw, haw!" cried Gallon the fool, with his head protruded -through one of the doors--"haw, haw! The lion feasted the fox, and the -fox got the best of the dinner."</p> - -<p class="normal">"I will make thee juggle till thy limbs ache," said De Coucy, "and -this very night. Sir Gallon! So will I punish thine insolence,--'Tis a -juggler slave, beau sire," he continued, turning to Guillaume de la -Roche Guyon, who gazed with some astonishment at the juggler's -apparition. "I bought him of the Infidels, into whose power he had -fallen, several years ago. He must have been once a shrewd-witted -knave, and wants not sense now when he chooses to employ it; but for -some trick he played his miscreant master, the Saracen tied him by the -legs to his horse's tail one day, and dragged him a good league across -the sands to sell him at our camp, in time of truce. Poor Gallon -himself says his brain was then turned the wrong way, and has never -got right again since, so that he breaks his sour jests on every one."</p> - -<p class="normal">The tables were soon spread, and the provisions, which indeed -consisted of little else than pork, or <i>bacon</i>, as it was then called -in France, with the addition of two unfortunate fowls, doomed to -suffer for their lord's return, were laid out in various trenchers all -the way down the middle of the board. De Coucy and his guest took -their places, side by side, at the top; and all the free men in the -train of either, were ranged along the sides. No fine <i>dressoir</i>, -covered with silver and with gold, ornamented the hall of the young -knight; all the plate which the crusades had left in his castle, -consisting of two large hanaps, or drinking cups, of silver, and a -saltcellar in the form of of a ship. Jugs of earthenware, and cups of -horn, lay ranged by platters of wood and pewter; and a momentary sting -of mortified pride passed through De Coucy's heart, as the poverty of -his house stood exposed to the eyes of the young troubadour.</p> - -<p class="normal">For his part, however, Guillaume de la Roche seemed perfectly -contented with his fare and reception; praised the wine, which was -indeed excellent, and evinced a traveller's appetite towards the hot -steaks of pork, and the freshly slaughtered fowls.</p> - -<p class="normal">Gradually De Coucy began to feel more at his ease, and, forgetting the -poverty of his household display, laughed and jested with his guest. -Pledging each other in many a cup, and at last adding thereto many a -song, the hours passed rapidly away. Gallon the fool was called; and a -stiff cord being stretched across the apartment, he performed feats -thereon, that would have broken the heart of any modern rope-dancer, -adding flavour and piquancy to the various contortions of his limbs, -by the rich and racy ugliness of his countenance.</p> - -<p class="normal">"That cannot be his real nose?" observed the young Provençal, turning -with an inquiring look to De Coucy.</p> - -<p class="normal">"By all the saints of heaven! it is," replied De Coucy; "at least, I -have seen him with no other."</p> - -<p class="normal">"It cannot be!" said the troubadour, almost in the words of -Slawkenbergius, "There never was a nose like that! 'Tis surely a -sausage of Bijorre--both shape, and colour, and size. I will never -believe it to be a true nose!"</p> - -<p class="normal">"Ho! Gallon," cried De Coucy. "Bring thy nose here, and convince this -fair knight that 'tis thine own lawful property."</p> - -<p class="normal">Gallon obeyed; and jumping down from his rope, approached the place -where the two knights sat, swaying his proboscis up and down in such a -manner, as to show that it was almost preternaturally under the -command of his volition.</p> - -<p class="normal">This, however, did not satisfy the young Provençal, who, as he came -nearer, was seized with an irresistible desire to meddle with the -strange appendix to the jongleur's face; and, giving way to this sort -of boyish whim, at the moment when Gallon was nearest, he seized his -nose between his finger and thumb, and gave it a tweak fully -sufficient to demonstrate its identity with the rest of his flesh.</p> - -<p class="normal">Gallon's hand flew to his dagger; and it was already gleaming half out -of the sheath, when a loud "How now!" from De Coucy stayed him; and -affecting to take the matter as a joke, he threw a somerset backwards, -and bounded out of the hall.</p> - -<p class="normal">"I could not have resisted, had he been an emperor!" said the young -man, laughing. "Oh, 'tis a wonderful appendage, and gives great -dignity to his countenance!"</p> - -<p class="normal">"The dignity of ugliness," said De Coucy. "But take care that Gallon -the fool comes not across you with his dagger. He is as revengeful as -an ape."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Oh, I will give him some gold," said the troubadour. "One touch of -such a nose as that is worth all the sheckles of Solomon's temple."</p> - -<p class="normal">De Coucy laughed, and the evening passed on in uninterrupted glee and -harmony; but when the young knight found that his new companion was -the grandson of the unfortunate Guy de la Roche Guyon, the account of -whose assassination he had just read, his heart seemed to open to him -more than ever; and telling him, with a smile at the remembrance of -having called for his lance, how much the history had moved him, Guy -de Coucy poured forth his free and generous heart in professions of -interest and regard. The young stranger seemed to meet him as frankly; -but to a close observer perhaps, the very rounding of his phrases -would have betrayed more study than was consistent with the same -effusion of feeling which might be seen in all De Coucy's actions.</p> - -<p class="normal">The châtelain, however, did not remark any defect; but after having -commanded a sleeping cup to be brought to the young Provençal's -bedroom, he led him thither himself. Here indeed his pride was -somewhat gratified to find that the old seneschal had preserved the -sleeping apartments with the most heedful care from the same decay -that had affected the rest of the castle, and that the rich tapestries -over the walls, the hangings of the bed, and its coverings of miniver -and sable, attested that the family of De Coucy Magny had once at -least known days of splendour.</p> - -<p class="normal">The next morning, by sunrise, the whole party in the castle were -stirring; and Guillaume de la Roche Guyon gave orders to prepare his -horses. De Coucy pressed his stay, but could not prevail; and after -having adduced a thousand motives to induce his guest to prolong his -visit, he added one, which to his mind was irresistible. "I find," -said he, "that during my absence, fighting for the recovery of -Christ's cross and sepulchre, a band of lawless routiers and cotereaux -have refuged themselves in my woods. Some two thousand, they are -called; but let us strike off one-half for exaggeration. Now, I -propose to drive them out with fire and sword, and doubt not to muster -fifty good men-at-arms. Your train amounts to nearly the same number, -and I shall be very happy to share the honour and pastime with so fair -a knight, if you be disposed to join me."</p> - -<p class="normal">The young man coloured slightly, but declined. "Important business," -he said, "which he was afraid must have suffered by the mishap of his -having lost his way the evening before, would utterly prevent him from -enjoying the great honour of fighting under Sir Guy de Coucy;--but he -should be most happy," he added, "to leave all the armed men of his -train, if they could be of assistance in expelling the banditti from -the territories of the Sire de Coucy. As for himself he no way feared -to pursue his journey with merely his unarmed servants."</p> - -<p class="normal">De Coucy, however, declined--somewhat drily too; his favourable -opinion of the young stranger being greatly diminished by his -neglecting, on any account, so fair an opportunity of exercising his -prowess and gaining renown. He conducted him courteously to his horse, -notwithstanding, drank the stirrup cup with him at parting, and, -wishing him a fair and prosperous journey, returned into his castle.</p> - -<p class="normal">Guillaume de la Roche Guyon rode on in silence at the head of his -troop, till he had descended to the very bottom of the hill on which -the château stood; then, turning to one of his favourite retainers, as -they entered the forest--"By the Lord! Philippeau," cried he, "saw ye -ever such beggarly fare? I slept not all night, half-choked as I was -with hog's flesh. And did you hear how he pressed me to my meat, as if -he would fain have choked me outright? The Lord deliver us from such -poor châtelains, and send them back to fight in Palestine.</p> - -<p class="normal">"So say I, beau sire," replied the retainer: "if they will take ship -thither, we will pray for a fair wind."</p> - -<p class="normal">"And the cups of horn, Philippeau," cried his lord, "and the wooden -platters--did you mark them? Oh, they were well worthy the viands they -contained!"</p> - -<p class="normal">"So say I, beau sire," replied the living echo. "May they never -contain any thing better!--for château and châtelain, dinner and -dishes, were all of a piece."</p> - -<p class="normal">"And think of his dreaming that I would go against the honest -cotereaux with him!" cried the youth--"risking my horse and my life, -and losing my time: all to rid his land of some scores of men as brave -as himself, I dare say, and a great deal richer. 'Twould have been a -rare folly, indeed!"</p> - -<p class="normal">"So say I, beau sire," rejoined the inevitable Philippeau; "that -would have been turning his man before he had shown himself your -master.--Ha, ha, ha!"</p> - -<p class="normal">"Haw, haw, haw!" shouted a voice in answer, whose possessor remained -for a moment invisible. The next instant, however, the legs of a man -appeared dangling from one of the trees, a few yards before them; then -down dropped his body at the extent of his arms; and, letting himself -fall like a piece of lead, Gallon the fool stood motionless in their -way.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Ha!" cried Guillaume de la Roche, drawing forward what was called his -<i>aumonière</i><a name="div4Ref_17" href="#div4_17"><sup>[17]</sup></a>, a sort of pouch by his side, and taking out a couple -of pieces of gold, "Our good jongleur come for his guerdon!--Hold, -fellow!" and he cast the money to Gallon the fool, who caught each -piece before it fell to the ground.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Haw, haw! haw, haw!" cried Gallon. "Gramercy, beau sire! gramercy! -Now will I tell thee a piece of news," he continued in his abrupt and -unconnected manner,--"a piece of news that never should you have heard -but for these two pieces of gold. Your lady love is at the castle of -the Sire de Montmorency. Speed thither fast, and you shall win her -yet.--Haw, haw! Do you understand? Win her old father first. Tell him -of your broad lands, and your rich castles; for old Sir Julian loves -gold, as if it paved the way to heaven.--Haw, haw, haw! When his love -is won, never fear but that his daughter's will come after; and then, -all because thou hast broad lands enough of thine own, thou shall have -all good Count Julian's to back them,--Haw, haw! haw, haw! Thus it is -we give to those that want not; and to those who want, we spit in -their face--a goodly gift!--Haw, haw! The world is mad, not I--'tis -but the mishap of being single in one's opinion!--Haw, haw, haw!" and -darting away into the forest without staying farther question, he was -soon lost to their sight.</p> - -<p class="normal">No sooner, however, had Gallon the fool assured himself that he was -out of reach of pursuit, than suddenly stopping, he cast himself on -the ground, and rolled over and over two or three times, while he made -the wood ring with his laughter. "Now have I murdered him!--now have I -slaughtered him!--now have I given his throat to the butcher!" cried -he, "as sure as if I held his head under knock-me-down De Coucy's -battle-axe!--now will he go and buy the old fool Julian's consent and -promise, for gold and rich furniture.--Haw, haw, haw! Then will -Isadore refuse; and let the De Coucy know.--Haw, haw! Then will De -Coucy come with lance and shield, and provoke my gallant to the fight, -which for his knighthood he dare not refuse--then will my great -man-slayer, my iron-fisted singer of songs, crush me this tiny, -smoothed-faced, quaint apparelled imp of Provence, as I've seen a -great eater crunch a lark.--Haw, haw! haw, haw! And all for having -tweaked my nose, though none of them know any thing about it! He will -insult my countenance no more, I trow, when the velvet black moles are -digging through his cold heart with their white hands. Ah, cursed -countenance!" he cried as if seized with some sudden emotion of rage, -and striking his clenched fist hard upon his hideous face--"Ah, cursed -countenance! thou hast brought down upon me mock and mimicry, hatred -and contempt! Every thing is loved--every thing is sought--every thing -is admired, but I; and I am fled from by all that see me. I am hated, -and I hate myself--I am the devil--surely I am the devil!--and if so, -I will enjoy my reign.--Beware! beware! ye that mock me; for I will -live by gnawing your hearts--I will, I will!--Haw, haw!--that I will!" -and suddenly bounding up, he caught one of the large boughs above his -head, swung himself backward and forward for a minute in the air; and -then springing forward, with a loud screaming laugh, flew back to the -castle like an arrow shot from a bow.</p> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<h3>CHAPTER XIV.</h3> -<br> - -<p class="continue">We must now return for a time to the château of Compiègne, in one of -the principal chambers of which, surrounded by a bevy of fair maids, -sat Agnes de Meranie, bending her graceful head over an embroidery -frame. As far as one might judge from the lively colours upon the -ground of white satin, she was engaged in working a coat of arms; and -she plied her small fingers busily as if in haste. Her maids also -were all fully engaged, each in some occupation which had in a degree -a reference to that of the queen. One richly embroidered a sword belt -with threads of gold; another wove a golden fringe for the coat of -arms; and a third was equally intent in tracing various symbols on a -banner.</p> - -<p class="normal">From what internal emotion it is hard to say--for song is not always a -sign of joy--the queen, as she sat at her work, sang, from time to -time, some of the verses of one of the cançons of the day, in a sweet -low voice, and in that sort of indifferent tone, which seemed to show, -that while her hands were busy with the embroidery, and her voice was -as mechanically modulating the song, that nobler part of the mind, -which seems to dwell more in the heart than the brain, and whose -thoughts are feelings, was busy with very different matter.</p> -<div class="poem2"> - -<h3>THE SEEKER FOR LOVE</h3> - -<p class="t0">"Oh where is Love?" the pilgrim said,<br> -"Is he pris'ner, dead, or fled?</p> -<p class="t1">I've sought him far, with spear and lance.</p> -<p class="t5">To meet him, seize and bind him.</p> -<p class="t1">I've sought him in each tower of France,</p> -<p class="t5">But never yet could find him--</p> -<p class="t0" style="text-indent:40%">There,"--</p> -</div> - -<p class="normal">"Should these flowers, in the treasure, be azure or gold, Blanche?" -demanded the queen.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Gold, madam!--Oh, certainly gold!" replied the lady, and the queen -resumed her work and her song.</p> -<div class="poem2"> - -<p class="t0">"Oh where is Love?" he said again,<br> -"Let me not seek, and seek in vain!</p> -<p class="t1">In the proud cities have I been,</p> -<p class="t5">In cottages I've sought him,</p> -<p class="t1">'Midst lords, 'midst shepherds on the green,</p> -<p class="t5">But none of them have brought him--</p> -<p class="t0" style="text-indent:40%">There."</p> - -<p class="t0">"He is banished," replied the knight,<br> -"By the cold looks of our ladies bright!"--</p> -<p class="t1">"He is gone," said the lady fair,</p> -<p class="t5">"To sport in Eden's arbours,</p> -<p class="t0">As for men's hearts, his old repair,</p> -<p class="t5">Treason alone now harbours--</p> -<p class="t0" style="text-indent:40%">There."</p> - -<p class="t0">"I have found him," the pilgrim said;<br> -"In my heart he has laid his head.</p> -<p class="t1">Though banish'd from knights and ladies rare,</p> -<p class="t5">And even shepherds discard him,</p> -<p class="t0">In my bosom shall be the god's lair.</p> -<p class="t5">And with silken fetters I'll guard him--</p> -<p class="t0" style="text-indent:40%">There."</p> -</div> - -<p class="normal">"Was it not on Thursday the king went?" demanded the queen.</p> - -<p class="normal">"No, madam," answered the lady who had spoken before. "He went on -Friday; and he cannot be back till the day after to-morrow, if he come -then; for that false, uncourteous king of England is as full of wiles -as of villanies, and will never give a clear reply; so that it always -costs my lord the king longer to deal with him than any of his other -vassals. Were I his brother, the Earl of Salisbury, who has been twice -at Paris, and is as good a knight as ever wore a lady's favour, I -would sweep his head off with my long sword, and restore the crown to -our little Arthur, who is the rightful king."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Where is the young truant?" demanded the queen. "I would fain ask -him, whether he would have these straps on the shoulder of plain silk -or of gold. See forhim, good girl!"</p> - -<p class="normal">But at that moment a part of the tapestry was suddenly pushed aside, -and a slight, graceful boy, of about fifteen, sprang into the room. He -was gaily dressed in a light tunic of sky-blue silk, and a jewelled -bonnet of the same colour, which showed well on his bright, fair skin, -and the falling curls of his sunny hair.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Not so far off as you thought, fair cousin," said he, casting himself -on one knee beside the queen, and kissing one of the small delicate -hands that lay on the embroidery frame.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Not eaves-dropping, I hope, Arthur," said Agnes de Meranie. "You, who -are so soon to become a knight, are too noble for that, I am sure."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Oh, surely!" said the boy, looking up in her face with an ingenuous -blush. "I had but been to see my mother; and, as I came back, I -stopped at the window above the stairs to watch an eagle that was -towering over the forest so proudly, I could not help wishing I had -been an eagle, to rise up like it into the skies, and see all the -world stretched out beneath me. And then I heard you singing, and -there was no harm in staying to listen to that, you know, belle -cousine," he added, looking up with a smile.</p> - -<p class="normal">"And how is the lady Constance, now?" demanded the queen.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Oh! she is somewhat better," replied Arthur. "And she bade me thank -you, fair queen, in her name, as well as my own, for undertaking the -task which her illness prevented her from accomplishing."</p> - -<p class="normal">"No thanks! no thanks! prince Arthur," replied the queen. "Is it not -the duty of every dame in France to aid in arming a knight when called -upon? But tell me, sir runaway, for I have been waiting these ten -minutes to know,--will you have these straps of cloth of gold, or -simple silk?"</p> - -<p class="normal">This question gave rise to a very important discussion, which was just -terminated by Arthur's predilection for gold, when a page, entering, -announced to the queen that Guerin, the chancellor, desired a few -minutes' audience.</p> - -<p class="normal">The queen turned somewhat pale, for the first sting of adversity had -gone deep in her heart, and she trembled lest it should be repeated. -She commanded the attendant, however, to admit the minister, -endeavouring, as much as possible, to conceal the alarm and uneasiness -which his visit caused her. The only symptom indeed of impatience -which escaped her appeared in her turning somewhat quickly round, and -pointing to a falcon that stood on its perch in one of the windows, -and amused itself, on seeing some degree of bustle, by uttering one or -two loud screams, thinking probably it was about to be carried to the -field.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Take that bird away, Arthur, good youth," said the queen; "it makes -my head ache."</p> - -<p class="normal">Arthur obeyed; and as he left the room the hospitaller entered, but -not alone. He was followed by a tall, thin, wasted man, dressed in a -brown frock, or <i>bure</i>, over which his white beard flowed down to his -girdle. In fact, it was Bernard the hermit, that, for the purposes we -shall explain, had once more for a time quitted his solitude, and -accompanied the minister of Philip Augustus to Compiègne.</p> - -<p class="normal">The hospitaller bowed his head as he advanced towards the queen, and -the hermit gave her his blessing; but still, for a moment, the heart -of poor Agnes de Meranie beat so fast, that she could only reply by -pointing to two seats which her women left vacant by her side.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Madame, we come to speak to you on matters of some importance," said -Guerin, looking towards the queen's women, who, though withdrawn from -her immediate proximity, still stood at a little distance. "Would it -please you to let us have a few minutes of your presence alone. Myself -and my brother Bernard are both unworthy members of the holy church, -and therefore may claim a lady's ear for a short space, without -falling into the danger of evil tongues."</p> - -<p class="normal">"I fear no evil tongues, good brother," replied Agnes, summoning -courage to meet whatever was to come; "and though I know of no subject -concerning myself that I could wish concealed from the world, yet I -will bid these poor girls go at your desire. Go, Blanche," she -continued, turning to her principal attendant,--"go, and wait in the -ante-room till I call. Now, good brother, may I crave what can be your -business with so unimportant a person as my poor self?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"As far, madam," replied Guerin, after a moment's pause, "as the weal -of this great realm of France is concerned, you are certainly any -thing but an unimportant person; nor can a fair, a noble, and a -virtuous lady ever be unimportant, be she queen or not. My brother -Bernard, from whom that most excellent knight and king, your royal -husband, has, as doubtless you know, lady, received many sage and -prudent counsels, has consented to join himself to me for the bold -purpose of laying before you a clear view of the state of this realm, -risking thereby, we know, to hurt your feelings, and even to offend -our lord the king, who has anxiously kept it concealed from you."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Hold, fair brother!" said Agnes mildly, but firmly; "and before you -proceed, mark me well! Where the good of my noble Philip, or of his -kingdom of France, may be obtained by the worst pain you can inflict -on me, let no fear of hurting my feelings stop you in your course. -Agnes gives you leave to hurt Agnes, for her husband's good; but -where, in the slightest degree, the confidence you would place in me -is in opposition to the will of Philip, your king and mine, the queen -commands you to be silent. Stay, good brother, hear me out: I know -that you would say, it is for the king's ultimate good, though he may -disapprove of it at present; but to me, good bishop, and you father -hermit,--to me, my husband's wisdom is supreme, as his will to me is -law; and though I will listen to your counsel and advice with all -humility, yet you must tell me nothing that my lord would not have me -hear, for on his judgment alone will I depend."</p> - -<p class="normal">Guerin looked to the hermit, who instantly replied:--"Daughter, -you have spoken well, wisely, and nobly; and I, even I, marvel -not,--though my heart is like a branch long broken from its stem, -withered and verdureless,--that Philip of France clings so fondly to -one, where beauty, and wisdom, and love, are so strangely united: -strangely indeed for this world! where if any two of such qualities -meet, 'tis but as that eastern plant which blossoms but once an age. -Let us only to council then, my child, and see what best may be done -to save the realm from all the horrors that menace it."</p> - -<p class="normal">The hermit spoke in a tone of such unwonted mildness, that Guerin, -apparently doubting his firmness in executing the purpose that had -brought them thither, took up the discourse.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Lady," said he, "after the ungrateful occurrence which terminated the -tournament of the Champeaux,--forgive me, that I recall what must pain -you,--you can hardly doubt that our holy father the pope, in his -saintly wisdom, considers that the decree of the prelates of France, -annulling the marriage of the king with Ingerburge of Denmark, was -illegal, and consequently invalid. Need I--need I, lady, urge upon you -the consequences, if our royal lord persists in neglecting, or -resisting, the repeated commands of the supreme pontiff?"</p> - -<p class="normal">Agnes turned deadly pale, and pointed to a crystal cup filled with -water, which stood near. The minister gave it to her; and, having -drunk a few drops, she covered her eyes with her hand for a -moment--then raised them, and replied with less apparent emotion than -might have been expected: "You do not clothe the truth, sir, in that -soft guise which makes it less terrible of aspect to a weak woman's -eyes, though not less certain; but you have been a soldier, sir, and -also a recluse, mingling not with such feeble things as we are; and, -therefore, I must forgive you the hard verities you speak. What is it -you wish me to do?--for I gather from your manner that there is some -task you would fain impose upon me."</p> - -<p class="normal">Pained by the effect his words had had upon the queen, and feeling -uncertain of how far he might venture, without driving her to actual -despair, embarrassed also by his small habits of intercourse with -women, Guerin turned once more to the hermit.</p> - -<p class="normal">"The task, my child," said the old man, in compliance with the -minister's look, "is indeed a painful one--bitterly painful; but, if -it approaches to the agony of martyrdom, it is by its self-devotion -equally sublime and glorious. Think, daughter, what a name would that -woman gain in history, who, to save her husband's realm from civil war -and interdict, and himself from excommunication and anathema, should -voluntarily take upon herself the hard duty of opposing not only his -inclinations but also her own; should tear herself from all that was -dear to her, and thereby restore him to his glory and himself,--his -realm to peace,--and tranquillity to the bosom of the church! Think -what a name she would gain in history, and what such a sacrifice might -merit from Heaven!"</p> - -<p class="normal">"Stay! stay! father," said Agnes, raising her hand. "Stay,--let me -think;" and casting down her beautiful eyes, she remained for a few -moments in profound thought. After a short pause, Guerin, lest the -impression should subside, attempted to fortify the hermit's arguments -with his own; but the queen waved her hand for silence, thought again, -and then raising her eyes, she replied:--</p> - -<p class="normal">"I understand you, father; and, from my heart, I believe you seek the -good of my husband the king. But this thing must not be--it cannot -be!"</p> - -<p class="normal">"It is painful, lady," said Guerin; "but to a mind like yours,--to a -heart that loves your husband better than yourself----"</p> - -<p class="normal">"Hold, my good brother!" said Agnes, "I, a weak, unwise woman, am ill -fitted to contend with two wise and learned men like you; and -therefore I will at once tell you why I reject a task that no -consideration of my own feelings would have caused me to refuse;--no, -not had it slain me!" she added, raising her eyes to heaven, as if -appealing there for testimony of the truth of her assertion. "In the -first place, I am the wife of Philip king of France; and my lips shall -never do my fame the dishonour to admit that for an instant I have -been aught else, since his hand clasped mine before the altar of St. -Denis, in presence of all the prelates and bishops of his realm. I -should dishonour myself--I should dishonour my child, did I think -otherwise. As his wife, I am bound never to quit him with my -good-will; and to submit myself in all things to his judgment and his -wisdom. His wisdom then must be the judge; I will in no one thing -oppose it. If but in the slightest degree I see he begins to think the -sacrifice of our domestic happiness necessary to the public weal, I -will yield without resistance, and bear my sorrows alone to the grave -that will soon overtake me; but never till that grave has closed upon -me will I admit that there is another queen of France; never will I -acknowledge that I am not the lawful wife of Philip Augustus; nor ever -will I oppose myself to my husband's will, or arrogate to myself the -right of judging where he himself has decided. No! Philip has formed -his own determination from his own strong mind; and far be it from me, -his wife, by a word to shake his resolution, or by a thought to -impeach his judgment!"</p> - -<p class="normal">The queen spoke calmly, but decidedly; and though no tone in her voice -betrayed any degree of vehemence, yet the bright light of her eye, and -the alternate flushing and paleness of her cheek, seemed to evince a -far more powerful struggle of feeling within, than she suffered to -appear in her language.</p> - -<p class="normal">"But hear me, lady,--hear me once more, for all our sakes!" exclaimed -Guerin.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Sir, I can listen no longer!" said Agnes, rising from her seat, with -a degree of energy and dignity, that her slight form and gentle -disposition seemed incapable of displaying. "My resolution is -taken--my course is fixed--my path is made; and nothing on earth shall -turn me therefrom. The icy mountains of my native land," she -continued, pointing with her hand in the direction, as she fancied, of -the Tyrol, "whose heads have stood for immemorial ages, beaten in vain -by storm and tempest, are not more immoveable than I am. But I am not -well," she added, turning somewhat pale--"I pray you, good sirs, leave -me!"</p> - -<p class="normal">Guerin bowed his head, yet lingered, saying, "And yet I would -fain----"</p> - -<p class="normal">"I am not well, sir," said the queen, turning paler and paler. "Send -me my women, I beseech you!"</p> - -<p class="normal">Guerin made a step towards the door, but suddenly turned, just in time -to catch the beautiful princess in his arms, as, overcome by -excitement and distress of mind, she fell back in one of those -deathlike fainting fits which had seized her first at the Champeaux.</p> - -<p class="normal">Her women were immediately called to her assistance; and the minister -and the hermit retired, disappointed indeed in the purpose they had -proposed to effect, but hardly less admiring the mingled dignity, -gentleness, and firmness with which the queen had conducted herself in -one of the most painful situations wherein ever a good and virtuous -woman was placed on earth.</p> - -<p class="normal">"And now, what more can be done?" said Guerin, pausing on the last -step of the staircase, and speaking in a tone that implied abandonment -of farther effort rather than expectation of counsel. "What can be -done?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"Nothing, my son," replied the hermit,--"nothing, without thou wouldst -again visit yon fair, unhappy girl, to torture her soul without -shaking her purpose. For me, I have no call to wring my -fellow-creatures' hearts; and therefore I meddle herein no more. Fare -thee well! I go to De Coucy Magny, as they call it, to see a wild -youth whose life I saved, I fear me, to little purpose."</p> - -<p class="normal">"But not on foot!" said Guerin; "'tis far, good brother. Take a horse, -a mule, from my stable, I pray thee!"</p> - -<p class="normal">"And why not on foot?" asked the old man. "Our Lord and Saviour walked -on foot, I trow; and he might have well been prouder than thou or I."</p> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<h3>CHAPTER XV.</h3> -<br> - -<p class="continue">The woods of De Coucy Magny stretched far over hill and dale, and -plain, where now not the root of one ancient tree is to be seen; and -many a vineyard, and a cornfield, and a meadow are to-day spread fair -out in the open sunshine, which were then covered with deep and -tangled underwood, or shaded by the broad arms of vast primeval oaks.</p> - -<p class="normal">Two straight roads passed through the forest, and a multitude of -smaller paths, which, winding about in every different direction, -crossing and recrossing each other,--now avoiding the edge of a pond -and making a large circuit, now taking advantage of a savannah, to -proceed straight forward, and now turning sharp round the vast boll of -some antique tree,--formed altogether an absolute labyrinth, through -which it needed a very certain clue, or very long experience, to -proceed in safety.</p> - -<p class="normal">These paths, also, however multiplied and intersected, left between -them many a wide unbroken space of forest ground, where apparently the -foot of man had never trod, nor axe of woodman ever rung, the only -tracks through which seemed to be some slight breaks in the underwood, -where the rushing sides of a boar or deer had dashed the foliage away. -Many of these spaces were of the extent of several thousand acres; and -if the very intricacy of the general forest paths themselves would not -have afforded shelter and concealment to men who, like the cotereaux -and routiers, as much needed a well hidden lair as ever did the -wildest savage of the wood, such asylum was easily to be found in the -dark recesses of these inviolate wilds.</p> - -<p class="normal">Here, on a bright morning of July, when the grey of the sky was just -beginning to warm with the rising day, a single man, armed with sword, -corselet, and steel bonnet, all shining with the last polishing touch -which they had received at the shop of the armourer, took his way -alone down one of the narrowest paths of the forest. In his hand he -held an <i>arbalète</i>,<a name="div4Ref_18" href="#div4_18"><sup>[18]</sup></a> or cross-bow, then a very late invention; and, -by the careful manner in which he examined every bush as he passed, he -seemed some huntsman tracing, step by step, the path of a deer.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Cursed be the fools!" muttered he to himself; "they have not taken -care to mark the <i>brisé</i> well; and, in this strange forest, how am I -to track them? Ah, here is another!" and, passing on from tree to -tree, he at length paused where one of the smaller branches, broken -across, hung with its leaves just beginning to wither from the -interruption of the sap. Here, turning from the direct path, he pushed -his way through the foliage, stooping his head to prevent the branches -striking him in the face, but still taking pains to remark at every -step each tree or bush that he passed; and wherever he perceived a -broken branch, keeping it to his right-hand as he proceeded. His eyes -nevertheless were now and then turned to the left, as well as the -right; and at length, after he had advanced about four hundred yards -in this cautious manner, he found the boughs broken all around, so -that the <i>brisé</i>, as he called it, terminated there; and all guide by -which to direct his course seemed at an end.</p> - -<p class="normal">At this place he paused; and, after examining more scrupulously every -object in the neighbourhood, he uttered a long whistle, which, after a -moment or two, met with a reply, but from such a distance that it was -scarcely audible. The cross-bowman whistled again; and the former -sound was repeated, but evidently nearer. Then came a slight rustling -in the bushes, as if some large body stirred the foliage, and then for -a moment all was still.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Ha, Jodelle!" cried a voice at last, from the other side of the -bushes. "Is it you?" and pushing through the leaves, which had -concealed him while he had paused to examine the stranger we have -described, a genuine routier, if one might judge by his very rude and -rusty arms, entered the little open space in which the other had been -waiting. He had an unbent bow in his hand, and a store of arrows in -his belt, which was garnished still farther with a strong short sword, -and of knives and daggers not a few, from the <i>miséricorde</i> of a -hand's breadth long, to the thigh knife of a peasant of those days, -whose blade of nearly two feet in length rendered it a serviceable and -tremendous weapon.</p> - -<p class="normal">He had on his back, by way of clothing, a light iron haubert, which -certainly shone not brightly; nor possibly was it desirable for him -that it should. Though of somewhat more solid materials than a linen -gown, it had more than one rent in it, where the rings had either been -broken by a blow, or worn through by age: but, in these places, the -deficient links had been supplied by cord, which at all events kept -the yawning mouths of the gaps together. On his head was placed an -iron hat, as it was called, much in the shape of the famous helmet of -Mambrino, as described by Cervantes; and round about it were twined -several branches of oak, which rendered his head, when seen through -the boughs, scarce distinguishable from the leaves themselves; while -his rugged and dingy haubert might well pass for a part of the trunk -of one of the trees.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Well met! well met, Jodelle!" cried he, as the other approached. -"Come to the halting place. We have waited for you long, and had -scanty fare. But say, what have you done? Have you slit the devil's -weasand, or got the knight's purse? Do you bring us good news or bad? -Do you come gay or sorry? Tell me! tell me, Jodelle! Thou art our -leader, but must not lead us to hell with thy new-fashioned ways."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Get thee on to the halt," replied Jodelle; "I will tell all there."</p> - -<p class="normal">The two cotereaux--for such they were--now made their way through the -trees and shrubs, to a spot where the axe had been busily plied to -clear away about half an acre of ground, round which were placed a -range of huts, formed of branches, leaves, and mud, capable of -containing perhaps two or three hundred men.</p> - -<p class="normal">In the open space in the centre several personages of the same -respectable class as the two we have already introduced to the reader, -were engaged in various athletic sports--pitching an immense stone, -shooting at a butt, or striking downright blows at a log of wood, to -see who could hew into its substance most profoundly.</p> - -<p class="normal">Others again were scattered about, fashioning bows out of strong -beechen poles, pointing arrows and spears, or sharpening their knives -and swords; while one or two lay listlessly looking on, seemingly -little inclined to employ very actively either their mental or -corporeal faculties.</p> - -<p class="normal">The arrival of Jodelle, as he was called, put a stop to the sports, -and caused a momentary bustle amongst the whole party, the principal -members of which seemed to recognise in him one of the most -distinguished of their fraternity, although some of those present -gazed on him as a stranger.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Welcome, welcome, sire Jodelle!" cried one who had been fashioning a -bow. "By my faith! we have much needed thy presence. We are here at -poor quarters. Not half so good as we had in the mountains of -Auvergne, till that bad day's work we made of it between the Allier -and the Puy; and a hundred thousand times worse than when we served -the merry king of England, under that bold knight Mercader. Oh, the -quarrel of that cross-bow at Chaluz was the worst shaft ever was shot -for us. Those days will never come again."</p> - -<p class="normal">"They may, they may!" replied Jodelle, "and before we dream of,--for -good, hard wars are spoken of; and then the detested cotereaux -grow, with these good kings, into their faithful troops of -Brabançois,--their excellent free companions! But we shall see. In the -mean time, tell me where is Jean le Borgne?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"He is gone with a party to look for some rich Jews going to Rouen," -replied the person who had spoken before. "But we have plenty of men -here for any bold stroke, if there be one in the market; and -besides----"</p> - -<p class="normal">"Did you meet with captain Vanswelder?" interrupted Jodelle. "The -fools at the castle believe he has two thousand bows with him. Where -does he lie? How many has he?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"He never had above four hundred," replied another of the many -cotereaux who by this time had gathered round Jodelle; "and when your -men came--if you are the captain, Jodelle--he took such of us as would -go with him down to Normandy, to offer himself to the bad king John -for half the sum of crowns we had before. Now, fifty of us, who had -served king Richard, and value our honour, agreed not to undersell -ourselves after such a fashion as that; so we joined ourselves to your -men, to take the chance of the road."</p> - -<p class="normal">"You did wisely and honourably," replied Jodelle; "but nevertheless -you would have been very likely to get hanged or roasted for your -pains, if I had not, by chance, stuck myself to the skirts of that Guy -de Coucy, who is now at his château hard by, menacing fire and sword -to every man of us that he finds in his woods. By St. Macrobius! I -believe the mad-headed boy would have attacked Vanswelder and his -whole troop, with the few swords he can muster, which do not amount to -fifty. A brave youth he is, as ever lived:--pity 'tis he must die! And -yet, when he dashed out my brother's brains with his battle-axe, I -vowed to God and St. Nicolas that I would die or slay him, as well as -that treacherous slave who betrayed us into attacking a band of -men-at-arms instead of a company of pilgrims. It is a firm vow, and -must be kept."</p> - -<p class="normal">"And yet, good master Jodelle, thou hast been somewhat slow in putting -it in execution," said one of the cotereaux. "Here thou and Gerard -Pons have been near a month with him--and yet, from all that I can -divine, thou hast neither laid thy finger on master or man!"</p> - -<p class="normal">"Ha! sir fool, wouldst thou have done it better?" demanded Jodelle, -turning on the speaker fiercely. "If I slew the fool juggler first, -which were easy to do, never should I get a stroke at his lord; and, -let me tell thee, 'tis no such easy matter to reach the master, who -has never doffed his steel haubert since I have seen him--except when -he sleeps, and then a varlet and a page lie across his door--a -privilege which he gave them in the Holy Land, where they saved his -life from a raw Saracen; and now, the fools hold it as such an honour, -they would not yield it for a golden ring. Besides," he added, -grinning with a mixture of shrewd malevolence and self-conceit in his -countenance, "I have a plot in my head. You know, I bear a brain."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Yes, yes!" replied several; "we know thou art rare at a plot. What -goes forward now? I vow a wax-candle to the Virgin Mary if it be a -good plot, and succeeds," added one of them. But this liberality -towards the Virgin, unhappily for the priests, met with no imitators.</p> - -<p class="normal">"My plot," replied Jodelle, "is as good a plot as ever was laid--ay, -or hatched either--and will succeed too. Wars are coming on thick. We -have no commander since our quarrel with Mercader. This De Coucy has -no men. To the wars he must and will; and surely would rather be -followed by a stout band of free companions, than have his banner -fluttering at the head of half a dozen varlets, like a red rag on a -furze bush. I will find means to put it in his head, and means to -bring about that you shall be the men. Then shall he lead us to spoil -and plunder enough, and leave it all to us when he has got it--for his -hand is as free as his heart is bold. My vow will stand over till the -war is done, and then the means of executing it will be in my own -hands. What say you?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"A good plot!--an excellent good plot!" cried several of the -cotereaux; but nevertheless, though plunged deep in blood and crime, -there were many of the band who knit their brow, and turned down the -corner of the mouth, at the profound piece of villany with which -master Jodelle finished his proposal. This did not prevent them from -consenting, however; and Jodelle proceeded to make various -arrangements for disposing comfortably of the band, during the space -of time which was necessarily to elapse before his plan could be put -in execution.</p> - -<p class="normal">The first thing to be done was to evacuate the woods of De Coucy -Magny, that no unpleasant collision might take place between the -cotereaux and De Coucy; and the next consideration was, where the band -was to lie till something more should be decided. This difficulty was -soon set aside, by one of the troop which had been originally in -possession of the forest, proposing as a refuge some woods in the -neighbourhood, which they had haunted previous to betaking themselves -to their present refuge. They then agreed to divide into two separate -bands, and to confine their system of plundering as much as possible -to the carrying off of horses; so that no difficulty might be found in -mounting the troop, in case of the young knight accepting their -services.</p> - -<p class="normal">"And now," cried Jodelle, "how many are you, when all are here?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"One hundred and thirty-three," was the reply.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Try to make up three fifties," cried Jodelle, "and, in the first -place, decamp with all speed; for this very day De Coucy, with all the -horsemen he can muster, will be pricking through every brake in the -forest. Carry off all your goods--unroof the huts--and if there be a -clerk amongst you, let him write me a scroll, and leave it on the -place, to say you quit it, all for the great name of De Coucy. So -shall his vanity be tickled."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Oh! there's Jeremy the monk can both read and write, you know," cried -several; "and as for parchment, he shall write upon the linen that was -in the pedlar's pack."</p> - -<p class="normal">"And now," cried Jodelle, "to the work! But first show me where haunt -the deer, for I must take back a buck to the castle to excuse my -absence."</p> - -<p class="normal">With very little trouble a fine herd was found, just cropping the -morning grass; and Jodelle instantly brought down a choice buck with a -quarrel from his cross-bow. He then bade adieu to his companions, and -casting the carcase over his shoulders, he took his way back to the -castle.</p> - -<p class="normal">It may be almost needless here to say, that this very respectable -personage, calling himself Jodelle, was one of the two men who had -been received into De Coucy's service in Auvergne, for the purpose of -leading to Paris two beautiful Arabian horses he had brought from -Palestine. His objects in joining the young knight at all, and for -fixing himself in his train more particularly afterwards, having been -already explained by himself, we shall not notice them; but shall only -remark, that personal revenge being in those days inculcated even as a -virtue, it was a virtue not at all likely to be so confined to the -better classes, as not to ornament in a high degree persons of -Jodelle's station and profession.</p> - -<p class="normal">The gates of the castle were open, and de Coucy himself standing on -the drawbridge, as the coterel returned.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Ha! varlet," said he. "Where hast thou been without the gates so -early? I must have none here that stray forth when they may be -needed!"</p> - -<p class="normal">"I had nought to do, beau sire," replied Jodelle, "and went but to -strike a buck in the wood, that your board might show some venison:--I -have not been long, though it led me farther than I thought."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Ha! canst thou wing a shaft, or a quarrel well?" demanded De Coucy. -"Thou hast brought down indeed a noble buck, and hit him fair in the -throat. What distance was your shot?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"A hundred and twenty yards," answered the coterel; "and if I hit not -a Normandy pippin at the same, may my bowstring be cut by your mad -fool, sir knight!"</p> - -<p class="normal">"By the blessed saints!" cried De Coucy, "thou shalt try this very day -at a better mark; for thou shalt have a <i>coterel's</i> head within fifty -steps, before yon same sun, that has just risen, goes down over the -wood!"</p> - -<p class="normal">"The poor cotereaux!" cried Jodelle, affecting a look of compassion. -"They are hunted from place to place, like wild beasts; and yet there -is many a good soldier amongst them, after all."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Out, fellow!" cried the knight. "Speakest thou for plunderers and -common thieves?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"Nay, beau sire! I speak not for them," replied Jodelle. "Yet what can -the poor devils do? Here, in time of war, they spend their blood and -their labour in the cause of one or other of the parties; and then, -the moment they are of no further use, they are cast off like a -mail-shirt after a battle. They have no means of living but by their -swords; and when no one will employ them, what can they do? What could -I have done myself, beau sire, if your noble valour had not induced -you to take me into your train? All the money I had got in the wars -was spent; and I must have turned routier, or starved."</p> - -<p class="normal">"But would you say, fellow, that you have been a coterel?" demanded De -Coucy, eyeing him from head to foot, as a man might be supposed to do -on finding himself unexpectedly in company with a wolf, and -discovering that it was a much more civilised sort of animal than he -expected.</p> - -<p class="normal">"I will not deny, beau sire," replied Jodelle, "that I once commanded -two hundred as good free lances as ever served king Richard."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Where are they now?" demanded De Coucy, with some degree of growing -interest in the man to whom he spoke. "Are they dispersed? What has -become of them?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"I do not well know, beau sire," replied the coterel. "When Peter -Gourdun's arblast set Richard, the lion-hearted, on the same long, -dark journey that he had given to so many others himself, I quarrelled -with count Mercader, under whom I served. Richard with his dying -breath, as you have doubtless heard, fair sir, ordered the man -Gourdun, who had killed him, to be spared and set free; and Mercader -promised to obey: but, no sooner was king Richard as cold as king -Pepin, than Mercader had Gourdun tied hand and foot to the harrow of -the drawbridge of Chaluz, and saw him skinned alive with his own -eyes."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Cruel villain!" cried De Coucy.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Ay! fair knight," rejoined the coterel. "I ventured to say that he -was disobedient as a soldier, as well as cruel as a knight; and that -he ought to have obeyed the king's commands, just as much after he was -dead, as if he had lived to see them obeyed. What will you have? There -were plenty to tell Mercader what I said:--there were high words -followed; and I left the camp as soon as peace was trumpeted. I had -saved some money, and hoped to buy a haubert feof under some noble -lord; but, as evil fortune would have it, I met with a <i>menestrandie</i>, -consisting of the chief <i>menestrel</i>, and four or five jongleurs and -glee-maidens; and never did they leave me till all I had was nearly -gone: what lasted, kept me a year at Besançon; after which I was glad -enough to engage myself for hire, to ride your horses from Vic le -Comte to Paris."</p> - -<p class="normal">"But your troop!" said De Coucy. "Have you never heard any news of all -your men?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"I have heard, through one of the minstrels," said the coterel, "that -soon after I was gone, they repented and would not take service with -king John, as they had at first proposed; but came to offer themselves -to the noble king Philip of France, who, however, being at peace, -would not entertain them; and that they are now roaming about, seeking -some noble baron who will give them protection, and lead them where -they may gain both money and a good name."</p> - -<p class="normal">"By the rood! they want the last, perhaps, more than the first," -replied De Coucy, turning to enter the château.</p> - -<p class="normal">The coterel's brow darkened, and he set his teeth hard, feeling the -head of his dagger as he followed the knight, as if his hand itched to -draw it and strike De Coucy from behind; which indeed he might easily -have done, and with fatal effect, at the spot where the haubert ending -left his throat and collar bare.</p> - -<p class="normal">It is not improbable that Jodelle would have yielded without -hesitation to the temptation of opportunity, especially as his escape -over the drawbridge into the wood might have been effected in an -instant; but he saw clearly that his words had made an impression upon -the knight. For the moment indeed they seemed to produce no -determinate result, yet it was evident that whenever he found a -fitting opportunity, it would be easy to re-awaken the ideas to which -he had already given birth, and by suggesting a very slight link of -connection, cause De Coucy to make the application to himself.</p> - -<p class="normal">One reason, perhaps, why very prudent men are often not so successful -as rash ones, may be that, even in the moment of consideration, -opportunity is lost. While the coterel still held his hand upon his -dagger, De Coucy's squire, Hugo de Barre, approached to tell the young -châtelain that his seven vassals--the poor remains of hundreds--were -very willing to ride against the cotereaux, though such was no part of -their actual tenure; and that, as soon as they could don their armour -and saddle their horses, they would be up at the castle. They promised -also to bring with them all the armed men they could get to aid them, -in the towns and villages in the neighbourhood, not one of which had -escaped without paying some tribute to the dangerous tenants of the -young knight's woods.</p> - -<p class="normal">In little less than an hour, De Coucy found himself at the head of -near one hundred men; and, confident in his own powers both of mind -and body, he waited not for many others that were still hastening to -join him; but, giving his banner to the wind, set forth to attack the -banditti, in whatever numbers he might find them.</p> - -<p class="normal">It were uninteresting to detail all the measures that De Coucy took to -ensure that no part of the forests should remain unsearched; -especially as we already know, that his perquisitions were destined to -be fruitless. Nor is it necessary to dwell upon the means that the -coterel employed to draw the young knight and his followers, without -seeming to do so, towards the spot which his companions had so lately -evacuated.</p> - -<p class="normal">De Coucy, by nature, was not suspicious; but yet his eye very -naturally strayed, from time to time, to the face of Jodelle, whose -fellow feeling for the cotereaux had been so openly expressed in the -morning; and, as they approached the former halting-place of the -freebooters, he remarked somewhat of a smile upon his lip.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Ha!" said he, in an under voice, at the same time turning his horse -and riding up to him. "What means that smile, sir Brabançois?"</p> - -<p class="normal">Jodelle's reply was ready. "It means, sir knight, that I can help you, -and I will; for even were these my best friends, the laws by which we -are ruled bind me to render you all service against them, on having -engaged with you.--Do you see that broken bough? Be you sure it means -something. The men you seek for are not far off."</p> - -<p class="normal">"So, my good friend," said De Coucy, "methinks you must have exercised -the trade of Brabançois in the green wood, as well as in the tented -field, to know so well all the secret signs of these gentry's hiding -places."</p> - -<p class="normal">"I have laid many an ambush in the green wood," replied Jodelle -undauntedly; "and the signs that have served me for that may well lead -me to trace others."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Here are foot-marks, both of horse and foot," cried Hugo de Barre, -"and lately trodden too, for scarce a fold of the moss has risen -since."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Coming or going?" cried De Coucy, spurring up to the spot.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Both, my lord," replied the squire. "Here are hoof marks all ways."</p> - -<p class="normal">Without wasting time in endeavouring to ascertain which traces were -the last imprinted, De Coucy took such precautions as the scantiness -of his followers permitted for ensuring that the cotereaux did not -make their escape by some other outlet; and then boldly plunged in on -horseback, following through the bushes, as well as he could, the -marks that the band had left behind them when they decamped. He was -not long in making his way to the open space, surrounded with huts, -which we have before described. The state of the whole scene at once -showed, that it had been but lately abandoned; though the unroofing of -the hovels evinced that its former tenants entertained no thought of -making it any more their dwelling-place.</p> - -<p class="normal">In the centre of the opening, however, stood the staff of a lance, on -the end of which was fixed a scroll of parchment, written in very fair -characters to the following effect:--</p> - -<p class="normal">"Sire de Coucy! hearing of your return to your lands, we leave them -willingly--not because we fear you, or any man, but because we respect -your knightly prowess, and would not willingly stand in deadly fight -against one of the best knights in France."</p> - -<p class="normal">"By St. Jerome! the knaves are not without their courtesy!" exclaimed -De Coucy. "Well, now they are off my land, God speed them!"</p> - -<p class="normal">"Where the devil did they get the parchment?" muttered Jodelle to -himself:--and thus ended the expedition with two exclamations that did -not slightly mark the age.</p> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<h3>CHAPTER XVI.</h3> -<br> - -<p class="continue">There are no truer chameleons than words, changing hue and aspect as -the circumstances change around them, and leaving scarce a shade of -their original meaning. <i>Piety</i> has at present many acceptations, -according to the various lips that pronounce it, and the ears that -hear; but in the time of the commonwealth, it meant the grossest -fanaticism; and in the time of Philip Augustus, the grossest -superstition.</p> - -<p class="normal">An age where knowledge and civilisation have made some progress, yet -not produced a cold fondness for abstract facts, may be called the -period of imagination in a nation; and then it will generally be found -that, in matters of religion, a brooding, a melancholy, and a -fanatical spirit reigns. Sectarian enthusiasm is then sufficient to -keep itself alive in each man's breast, without imagination requiring -any aid from external stimulants; and though the language of the -pulpit may be flowery and extravagant, the manners are rigid and -austere, and the rites simple and unadorned.</p> - -<p class="normal">In more remote periods, however, where brutal ignorance is the general -character of society, the only means of communicating with the dull -imagination of the people is by their outward senses. Pomp, pageant, -and display, music and ceremony, accompany each rite of the church, to -give it dignity in the eyes of the multitude, who, if they do not -understand the spirit, at least worship the form. Such was the -case in the days of Philip Augustus. The people, with very few -exceptions,--barons, knights, serfs and ecclesiastics,--beheld, felt, -and understood little else in religion than the ceremonies of the -church of Rome. Each festival of that church was for them a day of -rejoicing; each saint was an object of the most profound devotion; and -each genuflexion of the priest (though the priest himself was often -bitterly satirised in the sirventes of the trouvères and troubadours) -was a sacred rite, that the populace would not have seen abrogated for -the world. The ceremonies of the church were the link--the only -remaining link--between the noble and the serf; and, common to -all,--the high, the low, the rich, the poor,--they were revered and -loved by all classes of the community.</p> - -<p class="normal">Such was the general state of France, in regard to religious feelings, -when the kingdom was menaced with interdict by pope Innocent the -Third. The very rumour cast a gloom over the whole nation; but when -the legate, proceeding according to the rigid injunctions of the pope, -called the bishops, archbishops, and abbots of France to a council at -Dijon, for the purpose of putting the threat in execution, murmurs and -lamentations burst forth all over France.</p> - -<p class="normal">Philip Augustus, however, remained inflexible in his resolution of -resistance; and, though he sent two messengers to protest against the -proceedings of the council, he calmly suffered its deliberations to -proceed, without a change of purpose. The pope was equally unmoved; -and the cardinal of St. Mary's proceeded to the painful task which had -been imposed upon him; declaring to the assembled bishops the will of -the sovereign pontiff, and calling upon them to name the day -themselves on which the interdict should be pronounced. The bishops -and abbots found all opposition in vain, and the day was consequently -named.</p> - -<p class="normal">It was about this period that Count Thibalt d'Auvergne, having laid -the ashes of his father in the grave, prepared to retrace his steps to -Paris. His burden upon earth was a heavy one; yet, like the overloaded -camel in the desert, he resolutely bore it on without murmur or -complaint, waiting till he should drop down underneath it, and death -should give him relief. A fresh furrow might be traced on his brow, a -deeper shade of stern melancholy in his eye; but that was all by which -one might guess how painfully he felt the loss of what he looked on as -his last tie to earth. His voice was calm and firm, his manner clear -and collected: nothing escaped his remembrance; nothing indicated that -his thoughts were not wholly in the world wherein he stood, except the -fixed contraction of his brow, and the sunshineless coldness of his -lips.</p> - -<p class="normal">When, as we have before said, he had given his power, as suzerain of -Auvergne, into the hands of his uncle, he himself mounted his horse, -and, followed by a numerous retinue, set out from Vic le Comte.</p> - -<p class="normal">He turned not, however, his steps towards Paris in the first instance, -but proceeded direct to Dijon. Here he found no small difficulty in -obtaining a lodging for himself and train: the monasteries, on whose -hospitality he had reckoned, being completely occupied by the great -influx of prelates, which the council had brought thither; and the -houses of public entertainment being, in that day, unmeet dwellings -for persons of his rank. Nevertheless, dispersing his followers -through the town, with commands to keep his name secret, the Count -d'Auvergne took up his abode at the house of a <i>tavernier</i>, or -vintner, and proceeded to make the inquiries which had caused him so -far to deviate from his direct road.</p> - -<p class="normal">These referred entirely to--and he had long before determined to make -them--the property of the Count de Tankerville; on which, however, he -soon found that king Philip had laid his hands; and therefore, the -story of Gallon the fool being confirmed in this point, he gave up all -farther questions upon the subject, as not likely to produce any -benefit to his friend De Coucy.</p> - -<p class="normal">Occupied as he had been in Auvergne, the progress of the council of -bishops had but reached his ears vaguely; and he determined that the -very next day he would satisfy himself in regard to its deliberations, -which, though indeed they could take no atom from the load on his -heart, nor restore one drop of happiness to his cup, yet interested -him, perhaps, as much as any human being in France.</p> - -<p class="normal">The day had worn away in his other inquiries, the evening had passed -in bitter thoughts; and midnight had come, without bringing even the -hope of sleep to his eyelids; when suddenly he was startled by hearing -the bells of all the churches in Dijon toll, as for the dead. -Immediately rising, he threw his cloak about him, and, drawing the -hood over his head and face, proceeded into the street to ascertain -whether the fears which those sounds had excited in his bosom were -well founded.</p> - -<p class="normal">In the street he found a multitude of persons flocking towards the -cathedral; and, hurrying on with the rest, he entered at one of the -side-doors, and crossed to the centre of the nave.</p> - -<p class="normal">The sight that presented itself was certainly awful. No tapers were -lighted at the high altar, not a shrine gave forth a single ray; but -on the steps before the table stood the cardinal legate, dressed in -the deep purple stole worn on the days of solemn fast in the church of -Rome. On each hand, the steps, and part of the choir, were crowded -with bishops and mitred abbots, each in the solemn habiliments -appropriated by his order to the funeral fasts; and each holding in -his hand a black and smoky torch of pitch, which spread through the -whole church their ungrateful odour and their red and baleful light. -The space behind the altar was crowded with ecclesiastics and monks, -on the upper part of whose pale and meagre faces the dim and -ill-favouring torch-light cast an almost unearthly gleam; while -streaming down the centre of the church, over the kneeling -congregation, on whose dark vestments it seemed to have no effect, the -red glare spread through the nave and aisles, catching faintly on the -tall pillars and Gothic tracery of the cathedral, and losing itself, -at last, in the deep gloom all around.</p> - -<p class="normal">The choir of the cathedral were in the act of singing the <i>Miserere</i> -as the Count d'Auvergne entered; and the deep and solemn notes of the -chant, echoed by the vaulted roofs, and long aisles, and galleries, -while it harmonised well with the gloominess of the scene, offered -frightful discord when the deep toll of the death-bell broke across, -with sounds entirely dissonant. No longer doubting that his -apprehensions were indeed true, and that the legate was about to -pronounce the realm in interdict, Thibalt d'Auvergne advanced as far -as he could towards the choir, and, placing himself by one of the -pillars, prepared, with strange and mingled emotions, to hear the -stern thunder of the church launched at two beings whose love had made -his misery, and whose happiness was built upon his disappointment.</p> - -<p class="normal">It were too cruel an inquest of human nature to ask if, at the thought -of Agnes de Meranie being torn from the arms of her royal lover, a -partial gleam of undefined satisfaction did not thrill through the -heart of the Count d'Auvergne; but this at least is certain, that -could he, by laying down his life, have swept away the obstacles -between them, and removed the agonising difficulties of Agnes's -situation, Thibalt d'Auvergne would not have hesitated--no, not for a -moment!</p> - -<p class="normal">At the end of the <i>Miserere</i>, the legate advanced, and in a voice that -trembled even at the sentence it pronounced, placed the whole realm of -France in interdict,--bidding the doors of the churches to be closed; -the images of the saints, and the cross itself, to be veiled; the -worship of the Almighty to be suspended; marriage to the young, the -eucharist to the old and dying, and sepulture to the dead, to be -refused; all the rites, the ceremonies, and the consolations of -religion to be denied to every one; and France to be as a dead land, -till such time as Philip the king should separate himself from Agnes -his concubine, and take again to his bosom Ingerburge, his lawful -wife.</p> - -<p class="normal">At that hard word, concubine, applied to Agnes de Meranie, the Count -d'Auvergne's hand naturally grasped his dagger; but the legate was -secure in his sacred character, and he proceeded to anathematise and -excommunicate Philip, according to the terrible form of the church of -Rome, calling down upon his head the curses of all the powers of -Heaven!</p> - -<p class="normal">"May he be cursed in the city, and in the field, and in the highway! -in living, and in dying!" said the legate; "cursed be his children, -and his flocks, and his <i>domaines!</i> Let no man call him brother, or -give him the kiss of peace! Let no priest pray for him, or admit him -to God's altar! Let all men flee from him living, and let consolation -and hope abandon his death-bed! Let his corpse remain unburied, and -his bones whiten in the wind! Cursed be he on earth, and under the -earth! in this life, and to all eternity!"</p> - -<p class="normal">Such was in some degree, though far short of the tremendous original, -the anathema which the legate pronounced against Philip Augustus--to -our ideas, unchristian, and almost blasphemous; but then the people -heard it with reverence and trembling; and even when he summed up the -whole, by announcing it in the name of the Holy Trinity--of the -Father--of all mercy!--of the Son--the Saviour of the world!--and of -the Holy Ghost--the Lord and Giver of Life! the people, instead of -starting from the impious mingling of Heaven's holiest attributes with -the violent passions of man, joined the clergy in a loud and solemn -<i>Amen!</i></p> - -<p class="normal">At the same moment all the sounds ceased, the torches were -extinguished; and in obscurity and confusion, the dismayed multitude -made their way out of the cathedral.</p> -<br> - -<h3>END OF THE FIRST VOLUME.</h3> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<hr class="W20"> -<h3>VOLUME THE SECOND.</h3> -<hr class="W20"> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<h3>CHAPTER I.</h3> -<br> - -<p class="continue">Gloom and consternation spread over the face of France:--the link -seemed cut between it and the other nations of the earth. Each man -appeared to stand alone: each one brooded over his new situation with -a gloomy despondency. No one doubted that the curse of God was upon -the land; and the daily,--nay, hourly deprivation of every religious -ceremony, was constantly recalling it to the imaginations of all.</p> - -<p class="normal">The doors of the churches were shut and barred; the statues of the -saints were covered with black; the crosses on the high roads were -veiled. The bells which had marked the various hours of the day, -calling all classes to pray to one beneficent God, were no longer -heard swinging slowly over field and plain. The serf returned from the -glebe, and the lord from the wood, in gloomy silence, missing all -those appointed sounds that formed the pleasant interruption to their -dull toil, or duller amusements.</p> - -<p class="normal">All old accustomed habits,--those grafts in our nature, which cannot -be torn out without agony, were entirely broken through. The matin, or -the vesper prayer, was no longer said; the sabbath was unmarked by its -blessed distinctness; the fêtes, whether of penitence or rejoicing, -were unnoticed and cold in the hideous gloom that overspread the land, -resting like the dead amidst the dying.</p> - -<p class="normal">Every hour, every moment, served to impress the awful effects of the -interdict more and more deeply on the minds of men. Was a child born, -a single priest, in silence and in secrecy, as if the very act were a -crime, sprinkled the baptismal water on its brow. Marriage, with all -its gay ceremonies and feasts, was blotted, with other happy days, -from the calendar of life. The dying died in fear, without prayer or -confession, as if mercy had gone by; and the dead, cast recklessly on -the soil, or buried in unhallowed ground, were exposed, according to -the credence of the day, to the visitation of demons and evil spirits. -Even the doors of the cemeteries were closed; and the last fond -commune between the living and the dead--that beautiful weakness which -pours the heart out even on the cold, unanswering grave,--was struck -out from the solaces of existence.</p> - -<p class="normal">The bishops and clergy, in the immediate neighbourhood of Dijon, first -began to observe the interdict; and gradually, though steadily, the -same awful privation of all religious form spread itself over France. -Towards the north, however, and in the neighbourhood of the capital, -the ecclesiastics were more slow in putting it in execution; and long -ere it had reached the borders of the Seine, many a change had taken -place in the fate of Guy de Coucy.</p> - -<p class="normal">Having ascertained that the cotereaux had really left his woods, De -Coucy gave his whole thoughts to the scheme which had been proposed to -him by his squire, Hugo de Barre, for surprising Sir Julian of the -Mount and his fair daughter, and bringing them to his castle, without -letting them know, till after their arrival, into whose hands they had -fallen.</p> - -<p class="normal">Such extravagant pieces of gallantry were very common in that age; but -there are difficulties of course in all schemes; and the difficulty of -the present one was, so to surprise the party, that no bloodshed or -injury might ensue; for certainly, if ever there was an undertaking to -which the warning against jesting with edged tools might be justly -applied, it was this.</p> - -<p class="normal">The brain, however, of Hugo de Barre, which for a great part of his -life had been sterile, or at least, had lain fallow, seemed to have -become productive of a sudden; and he contrived a plan by which the -page, who, from many a private reason of his own, was very willing to -undertake the task, was to meet Sir Julian's party, disguised as a -peasant, and, mingling with the retinue, to forewarn the male part of -the armed train of the proposed surprisal, enjoining them, at the same -time, for the honour of the masculine quality of secrecy, not to -reveal their purpose to the female part of the train. "For," observed -Hugo de Barre, "a woman's head, as far as ever I could hear, is just -like a funnel: whatever you pour into her ear, is sure to run out at -her mouth."</p> - -<p class="normal">De Coucy stayed not to controvert this ungallant position of his -squire, but sent off in all haste to Gisors, for the purpose of -preparing his château for the reception of such guests, as far as his -scanty means would permit. His purse, however, was soon exhausted; and -yet no great splendour reigned within his halls.</p> - -<p class="normal">The air of absolute desolation, however, was done away; and, though -the young knight had ever had that sort of pride in the neatness of -his horse, his arms, and his dress, which perhaps amounted to foppery, -he valued wealth too little himself to imagine that the lady of his -love would despise him for the want of it. He could not help wishing, -however, that the king had given another tournament, where, he doubted -not, his lance would have served him to overthrow five or six -antagonists, the ransom of whose horses and armour might have served -to complete the preparations he could now only commence. It was a wish -of the thirteenth century; and though perhaps not assimilating very -well with our ideas at present, it was quite in harmony with the -character of the times, when many a knight lived entirely by his -prowess in the battle or the lists, and when the ransom of his -prisoners, or of the horses and arms of his antagonists, was held the -most honourable of all revenues.</p> - -<p class="normal">As the period approached in which De Coucy had reason to believe Count -Julian and his train would pass near his castle, a warder was -stationed continually in the beffroy, to keep a constant watch upon -the country around; and many a time would the young knight himself -climb into the high tower, and gaze over the country spread out below.</p> - -<p class="normal">Such was the position of the castle, and the predominating height of -the watch-tower, that no considerable party could pass within many -miles, without being seen in some part of their way. In general, the -principal roads lay open beneath the eye, traced out, clear and -distinct, over the bosom of the country, as if upon a wide map: and -with more eagerness and anxiety did De Coucy gaze upon the way, and -track each group that he fancied might contain the form of Isadore of -the Mount, than he had ever watched for Greek or Saracen. At length, -one evening, as he was thus employing himself, he saw, at some -distance, the dust of a cavalcade rise over the edge of a slight hill -that bounded his view to the north-east. Then came a confused group of -persons on horseback; and, with a beating heart, De Coucy strained his -eyes to see whether there were any female figures amongst the rest. -Long before it was possible for him to ascertain, he had determined -twenty times, both that there were, and that there were not; and -changed his opinion as often. At length, however, something light -seemed to be caught by the wind, and blown away to a little distance -from the party, while one of the horsemen galloped out to recover it, -and bring it back.</p> - -<p class="normal">"'Tis a woman's veil," cried De Coucy. "'Tis she! by the sword of my -father!" and darting down the winding steps of the tower, whose -turnings now seemed interminable, he rushed into the court, called, -"To the saddle!" and springing on his horse, which stood always -prepared, he led his party into the woods, and laid his ambush at the -foot of the hill, within a hundred yards of the road that led to -Vernon.</p> - -<p class="normal">All this was done with the prompt activity of a soldier long -accustomed to quick and harassing warfare. In a few minutes, also, the -disguises, which had been prepared to render himself and his followers -as like a party of cotereaux as possible, were assumed, and De Coucy -waited impatiently for the arrival of the cavalcade. The moments now -passed by with all that limping impotence of march which they always -seem to have in the eyes of expectation, For some time the knight -reasoned himself into coolness, by remembering the distance at which -he had seen the party, the slowness with which they were advancing, -and the rapidity with which he himself had taken up his position. For -the next quarter of an hour he blamed his own hastiness of -disposition, and called to mind a thousand instances in which he had -deceived himself in regard to time.</p> - -<p class="normal">He then thought they must be near; and, after listening for a few -minutes, advanced at little to ascertain, when suddenly the sound of a -horse's feet struck on his ear, and he waited only the first sight -through the branches to make the signal of attack.</p> - -<p class="normal">A moment, after, however, he beheld, to his surprise and -disappointment, the figure of a stout market-woman, mounted on a mare, -whose feet had produced the noise which had attracted his attention, -and whose passage left the road both silent and vacant once more. -Another long pause succeeded, and De Coucy, now almost certain that -the party he had seen must either have halted or turned from their -course, sent out scouts in various directions to gain more certain -information. After a short space one returned, and then another, all -bringing the same news, that the roads on every side were clear; and -that not the slightest sign of any large party was visible, from the -highest points in the neighbourhood.</p> - -<p class="normal">Evening was now beginning to fall; and, very sure that Count Julian -would not travel during the darkness, through a country infested by -plunderers of all descriptions, the young knight, disappointed and -gloomy, emerged with his followers from his concealment, and once more -bent his steps slowly towards his solitary hall.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Perhaps," said he mentally, as he pondered over his scheme and its -want of success,--"perhaps I may have escaped more bitter -disappointment--perchance she might have proved cold and -heartless--perchance she might have loved me, yet been torn from -me;--and then, when my eye was once accustomed to see her lovely form -gliding through the halls of my dwelling, how could I have afterwards -brooked its desolate vacancy? When my ear had become habituated to the -sound of her voice in my own home, how silent would it have seemed -when she were gone! No, no--doubtless, I did but scheme myself pains. -'Tis better as it is."</p> - -<p class="normal">While these reflections were passing in his mind, he had reached the -bottom of the hill, on which his castle stood, and turned his horse up -the steep path. Naturally enough, as he did so, he raised his eyes to -contemplate the black frowning battlements that were about to receive -him once more to their stern solitude; when, to his astonishment, he -saw the flutter of a woman's dress upon the outward walls, and a gay -group of youths and maidens were seen looking down upon him from his -own castle.</p> - -<p class="normal">De Coucy at first paused from mere surprise, well knowing that his own -household offered nothing such as he there beheld but the next moment, -as the form of Isadore of the Mount showed itself plainly to his -sight, he struck his spurs into his horse's sides, and galloped -forward like lightning, eager to lay himself open to all the -disappointments over which he had moralised so profoundly but a moment -before.</p> - -<p class="normal">On entering the court he found a multitude of squires stabling their -horses with all the care that promised a long stay and, the moment -after, he was accosted by old Sir Julian of the Mount himself, who -informed him that, finding himself not so well as he could wish, he -had come to crave his hospitality for a day's lodging, during which -time he might communicate to him, he said, some important matter for -his deep consideration. This last announcement was made in one of -those low and solemn tones intended to convey great meaning; and, -perhaps, even Sir Julian wished to imply, that his ostensible reason -for visiting the castle of De Coucy was but a fine political covering, -to veil the more immediate and interesting object of his coming.</p> - -<p class="normal">"But how now. Sir Guy!" added he; "surely you have been disguising -yourself! With that sack over your armour, for a <i>cotte d'armes</i>, and -the elm branch twisted round your casque, you look marvellous like a -coterel.</p> - -<p class="normal">"By my faith! good Sir Julian," replied De Coucy with his usual -frankness, "I look but like what I intended then. The truth is, -hearing of your passing, I arrayed my men like cotereaux, and laid an -ambush for you, intending to take you at a disadvantage, and making -you prisoner, to bring you here; where, in all gentle courtesy, I -would have entreated your stay for some few days, to force a boar and -hear a lay, and forget your weightier thoughts for a short space. But, -by the holy rood! I find I have made a strange mistake; for, while I -went to take you, it seems you have taken my castle itself!"</p> - -<p class="normal">"Good, good! very good!" cried Sir Julian; "but come with me. Sir Guy. -Isadore has found her way to the battlements already, and is looking -out at the view, which, she says, is fine. For my part, I love no fine -views but politic ones.--Come, follow me.--Let me see, which is the -way?--Oh, here--No, 'tisn't.--This is a marvellous stronghold, Sir -Guy! Which is the way?"</p> - -<p class="normal">Cursing Sir Julian's slow vanity, in striving to lead the way through -a castle he did not know, with its lord at his side, Sir Guy de Coucy -stepped forward, and, with a foot of light, mounted the narrow -staircase in the wall, that led to the outer battlements.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Stay, stay! Sir Guy!" cried the old man. "By the rood! you go so -fast, 'tis impossible to follow! You young men forget we old men get -short of breath; and, though our brains be somewhat stronger than -yours, 'tis said, our legs are not altogether so swift."</p> - -<p class="normal">De Coucy, obliged to curb his impatience, paused till Sir Julian came -up, and then hurried forward to the spot where Isadore was gazing, or -seeming to gaze, upon the prospect.</p> - -<p class="normal">A very close observer, however, might have perceived that--though she -did not turn round till the young knight was close to her--as his -clanging step sounded along the battlements, a quick warm flush rose -in her cheek; and when she did turn to answer his greeting, there was -that sort of glow in her countenance and sparkle in her eye which, -strangely in opposition with the ceremonious form of her words, would -have given matter for thought to any more quick-witted person than -Count Julian of the Mount.</p> - -<p class="normal">That worthy baron, however, wholly pre-occupied with his own sublime -thoughts, saw nothing to excite his surprise, but presented De Coucy -to Isadore as a noble chief of cotereaux, who would fain have taken -them prisoner, had they not in the first instance stormed his castle, -and "manned, or rather," said Sir Julian, "womanned, his wall," and -the worthy old gentleman chuckled egregiously at his own wit. "Now -that we are here, however," continued Sir Julian, "he invites us to -stay for a few days, to which I give a willing consent:--what say you, -Isadore? You will find these woods even sweeter than those of -Montmorency for your mornings' walks."</p> - -<p class="normal">Isadore cast down her large dark eyes, as if she was afraid that the -pleasure which such a proposal gave her, might shine out too -apparently through a commonplace answer. "Wherever you think fit to -stay, my dear father," replied she, "must always be agreeable to me."</p> - -<p class="normal">Matters being thus arranged, we shall not particularise the passing of -that evening, nor indeed of the next day. Suffice it to say, that Sir -Julian found a moment to propose to De Coucy, to enter into the -coalition which was then forming between some of the most powerful -barons of France, with John king of England in his quality of duke of -Normandy, and Ferrand count of Flanders at their head, to resist the -efforts which Philip Augustus was making to recover and augment the -kingly authority.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Do not reply. Sir Guy--do not reply hastily," concluded the old -knight; "I give you two more days to consider the question in all its -bearings; and on the third I will take my departure for Rouen, either -embracing you as a brother in our enterprise, or thanking you for your -hospitality, and relying on your secrecy."</p> - -<p class="normal">De Coucy was glad to escape an immediate reply, well knowing that the -only answer he could conscientiously make, would but serve to irritate -his guest, and, perhaps, precipitate his departure from the castle. He -therefore let the matter rest, and applied himself, as far as his -limited means would admit, to entertain Sir Julian and his suite, -without derogating from the hospitality of his ancestors.</p> - -<p class="normal">The communication of feeling between the young knight and his fair -Isadore made much more rapid advances than his arrangements with Sir -Julian. During the journey from Auvergne to Senlis, each day's march -had added something to their mutual love, and discovered it more and -more to each other. It had shone out but in trifles, it is true; for -Sir Julian had been constantly present, filling their ears with -continual babble, to which the one was obliged to listen from filial -duty, and the other from respect for her he loved. It had shone out -but in trifles, but what is life but a mass of trifles, with one or -two facts of graver import, scattered like jewels amidst the seashore -sands?--and though, perhaps, it was but a momentary smile, or a casual -word, a glance, a tone, a movement, that betrayed their love to each -other, it was the language that deep feelings speak, and deep feelings -alone can read, but which, then, expresses a world more than words can -ever tell.</p> - -<p class="normal">When Isadore arrived at De Coucy's château, there wanted but one word -to tell her that she was deeply loved; and before she had been there -twelve hours that word was spoken. We will therefore pass over that -day,--which was a day of long, deep, sweet thought to Isadore of the -Mount, and to De Coucy a day of anxious hope, with just sufficient -doubt to make it hope, not joy,--and we will come at once to the -morning after.</p> - -<p class="normal">'Twas in the fine old woods, in the immediate proximity of the castle, -towards that hour of the morning when young lovers may be supposed to -rise, and dull guardians to slumber in their beds. It was towards five -o'clock, and the spot, a very dangerous scene for any one whose heart -was not iron, with some fair being near him. A deep glade of the wood, -at the one end of which might be seen a single grey tower of the -castle, here opened out upon the very edge of a steep descent, -commanding one of those wide extensive views, over rich and smiling -lands, that make the bosom glow and expand to all that is lovely. The -sun was shining down from beyond the castle, chequering the grassy -glade with soft shadows and bright light; and a clear small stream, -that welled from a rock hard by, wound in and out amongst the roots of -the trees, over a smooth gravelly bed; till, approaching the brink of -the descent, it leaped over, as if in sport, and went bounding in -sparkling joyousness into the rich valley below. All was in -harmony--the soft air, and the birds singing their matins, and the -blue sky overhead; so that hard must have been the heart indeed that -did not then feel softened by the bland smiles of nature.</p> - -<p class="normal">Wandering down the glade, side by side, even at that early hour, came -De Coucy and Isadore of the Mount, alone--for the waiting-maid, Alixe, -was quite sufficiently discreet to toy with every buttercup as she -passed; so that the space of full a hundred yards was ever interposed -between the lovers and any other human creature.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Oh, De Coucy!" said Isadore, proceeding with a conversation, which -for various reasons is here omitted, "if I could but believe that your -light gay heart were capable of preserving such deep feelings as those -you speak!"</p> - -<p class="normal">"Indeed, indeed! and in very truth!" replied De Coucy, "my heart, -sweet Isadore, is very, very different from what it seems in a gay and -heartless world. I know not why, but from my youth I have ever covered -my feelings from the eyes of my companions. I believe it was, at -first, lest those who could not understand should laugh; and now it -has become so much a habit, that often do I jest when I feel deepest, -and laugh when my heart is far from merriment; and though you may have -deemed that heart could never feel in any way, believe me now, when I -tell you, that it has felt often and deeply."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Nay!" said Isadore, perhaps somewhat wilful in her mistake, "if you -have felt such sensations so often, and so deeply, but little can be -left for me."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Nay, nay!" cried De Coucy eagerly. "You wrong my speech. I never -loved but you. My feelings in the world, the feelings that I spoke of, -have been for the sorrows and the cares of others--for the loss of -friends--the breaking of fond ties--to see injustice, oppression, -wrong;--to be misunderstood by those I esteemed--repelled where I -would have shed my heart's blood to serve. Here, have I felt all that -man can feel; but I never loved but you. I never yet saw woman, before -my eyes met yours, in whose hand I could put my hope and happiness, my -life and honour, my peace of mind at present, and all the fond dreams -we form for the future. Isadore, do you believe me?"</p> - -<p class="normal">She cast down her eyes for a moment, then raised them, to De Coucy's -surprise, swimming with tears. "Perhaps I do," replied she.--"Do not -let my tears astonish you, De Coucy," she added; "they are not all -painful ones; for to find oneself beloved as one would wish to be, is -very, very sweet. But still, good friend, I see much to make us fear -for the future. The old are fond of wealth, De Coucy, and they forget -affection. I would not that my tongue should for a moment prove so -false to my heart, as to proffer one word against my father; but, I -fear me, he will look for riches in a husband to his daughter."</p> - -<p class="normal">"And will such considerations weigh with you, Isadora?" demanded De -Coucy sadly.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Not for a moment!" replied she. "Did I choose for myself, I would -sooner, far sooner, that the man I loved should be as poor a knight as -ever braced on a shield, that I might endow him with my wealth, and -bring him something more worthy than this poor hand. But can I oppose -my father's will, De Coucy?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"What!" cried the knight; "and will you, Isadore, wed the first -wealthy lover he chooses to propose, and yield yourself, a cold -inanimate slave, to one man, while your heart is given to another?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"Hush, hush!" cried Isadore--"never, De Coucy, never!--I will never -wed any man against my father's will; so far my duty as a child -compels me:--but I will never, never marry any man--but--but--what -shall I say?--but one I love."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Oh, say something more, sweet, sweet girl!" cried the young -knight eagerly;--"say something more, to give my heart some firm -assurance--let that promise be to me!"</p> - -<p class="normal">"Well, well!" said Isadore, speaking quick, as if afraid the words -should be stayed upon her very lip, "no one but you--Will that content -you?"</p> - -<p class="normal">De Coucy pressed her hand to his lips, and to his heart, with all that -transport of gratitude that the most invaluable gift a woman can -bestow deserves; and yet he pressed her to repeat her promise. He -feared, he said, the many powerful arts with which friends work on a -woman's mind,--the persuasions, the threats, the false reports; and he -ceased not till he had won her to repeat again and again, with all the -vows that could bind her heart to his, that her hand should never be -given to another.</p> - -<p class="normal">"They may cloister me in a convent," she said, as the very reiteration -rendered her promise bolder; and his ardent and passionate professions -made simple assurances seem cold: "but I deem not they will do it; for -my father, though quick in his disposition, and immoveable in what he -determines, loves me, I think, too well, to part with me willingly for -ever. He may threaten it; but he will not execute his threat. But oh! -De Coucy, have a care that you urge him not to such a point, that he -shall say my hand shall never be yours; for if once 'tis said, he will -hold it a matter of honour never to retract, though he saw us both -dying at his feet."</p> - -<p class="normal">De Coucy promised to be patient, and to be circumspect, and all that -lover could promise; and, engaging Isadore to sit down on a mossy seat -that nature herself had formed with the roots of an old oak, he -occupied the vacant minutes with all those sweet pourings forth of the -heart to which love, and youth, and imagination alone dare give way, -in this cold and stony world. Isadore's eyes were bent upon him, her -hand lay in his, and each was fully occupied with the other, when a -sort of half scream from the waiting-maid Alixe woke them from their -dreams; and, looking up, they found themselves in the presence of old -Sir Julian of the Mount.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Good! good! marvellous good!" cried the old knight.--"Get thee in, -Isadore--without a word!--Get thee in too, good mistress looker on!" -he added to Alixe; "'tis well thou art not a man instead of a woman, -or I would curry thy hide for thee. Get thee in, I say!--I must deal -with our noble host alone."</p> - -<p class="normal">Isadore obeyed her father's commands in silence, turning an imploring -look to De Coucy, as if once more to counsel patience. Alixe followed, -grumbling; and the old knight, turning to De Coucy, addressed him in a -tone of ironical compliment, intended to be more bitter than the most -unmixed abuse.</p> - -<p class="normal">"A thousand thanks! a thousand thanks! beau sire!" he said, "for your -disinterested hospitality. Good sooth, 'twas a pity your plan for -taking us prisoners did not go forward; for now you might have a fair -excuse for keeping us so, too. 'Twould have been an agreeable surprise -to us all--to me especially; and I thank you for it. Doubtless, you -proposed to marry my daughter without my knowledge also, and add -another agreeable surprise. I thank you for that, too, beau sire!"</p> - -<p class="normal">"You mistake me, good Sir Julian," replied De Coucy calmly: "I did not -propose to wed your daughter without your knowledge, but hoped that -your consent would follow your knowledge of our love. I am not rich, -but I do believe that want of wealth is the only objection you could -have----"</p> - -<p class="normal">"And enough surely," interrupted Sir Julian. "What! is that black -castle, and half a hundred roods of wild wood, a match for ten -thousand marks a year, which my child is heir too?--Beau sire, you do -mistake. Doubtless you are very liberal, where you give away other -people's property to receive yourself; but I am of a less generous -disposition. Besides," he added, more coolly, "to put the matter to -rest for ever. Sir Guy de Coucy, know that I have solemnly promised my -daughter's hand to the noble Guillaume de la Roche Guyon."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Promised her hand!" exclaimed De Coucy, "to Guillaume de la Roche -Guyon! Dissembling traitor! By the holy rood! he shall undergo my -challenge, and die for his cold treachery!"</p> - -<p class="normal">"Mark me!--mark me! I pray you, beau sire!" cried Sir Julian of the -Mount in the same cool tone. "Should Guillaume de la Roche Guyon -fall under your lance, you shall never have my child---so help me. -Heaven!--except with my curse upon her head. Ay! and even were he to -die or fall in the wars that are coming--for I give her not to him -till they be passed--you should not have her then--without," he added, -with a sneer, "I was your prisoner chained hand and foot; and you -could offer me acre with acre for my own land. But perhaps you still -intend to keep me prisoner, here in your stronghold. Such things have -been done, I know."</p> - -<p class="normal">"They will never be done by me, Count Julian," replied De Coucy, -"though it is with pain I see you go, and would fain persuade you to -stay, and think better of my suit; yet my drawbridge shall fall at -your command, as readily as at my own. Yet, let me beseech you to -think--I would not boast;--but still let me say, my name and deeds are -not unknown in the world. The wealth that once my race possessed has -not been squandered in feasting and revelry, but in the wars of the -blessed cross, in the service of religion and honour. As to this -Guillaume de la Roche Guyon, I will undertake, within a brief space, -to bring you his formal renunciation of your promise."</p> - -<p class="normal">"It cannot be, sir!--it cannot be!" interrupted Sir Julian. "I have -told you my mind. What I have said is fixed as fate. If you will let -me go, within this hour I depart from your castle; if you will not, -the dishonour be on your own head. Make no more efforts, sir," he -added, seeing De Coucy about to speak. "The words once passed from my -mouth are never recalled. Ask Giles, my squire, sir,--ask my -attendants all. They will tell you the same thing. What Count Julian -of the Mount has spoken is as immoveable as the earth."</p> - -<p class="normal">So saying, the old man turned, and walked back to the castle followed -by De Coucy, mourning over the breaking of the bright day-dream, -which, like one of the fine gossamers that glitter in the summer, had -drawn a bright shining line across his path, but had snapped for ever -with the first touch.</p> - -<p class="normal">Sir Julian's retinue were soon prepared, and the horses saddled in the -court-yard; and, when all was ready, the old knight brought down his -daughter to depart. She was closely veiled, but still De Coucy saw -that she was weeping, and advanced to place her on horseback. At that -moment, however, one of the squires, evidently seeing that all was not -right between his lord and the lord of the castle, thrust himself in -the way.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Back, serf!" exclaimed de Coucy, laying his hand upon his collar, and -in an instant he was seen reeling to the other side of the court, as -if he had been hurled from a catapult. In the mean while De Coucy -raised Isadore in his arms, and, placing her on her horse, pressed her -slightly in his embrace, saying in a low tone, "Be constant, and we -may win yet;" then yielding the place to Sir Julian, who approached, -he ordered the drawbridge of the castle to be lowered.</p> - -<p class="normal">The train passed through the arch, and over the bridge; and De Coucy -advanced to the barbican to catch the last look, as they wound down -the hill. Isadore could not resist, and waved her hand for an instant -before they were out of sight. De Coucy's heart swelled as if it would -have burst; but at that moment his squire approached, and put into his -hand a small packet, neatly folded and sealed, which, he said, Alixe -the waiting-woman had given him for his lord. De Coucy eagerly tore it -open. It contained a lock of dark hair, with the words "Till death," -written in the envelope. De Coucy pressed it to his heart, and turned -to re-enter the castle.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Ha, haw! Ha, haw!" cried Gallon the fool, perched on the battlements. -"Haw, haw, haw! Ha, haw!"</p> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<h3>CHAPTER II.</h3> -<br> - -<p class="continue">By tardy conveyances, and over antediluvian roads, news travelled -slowly in the days we speak of; and the interdict which we have seen -pronounced at Dijon, and unknown at De Coucy Magny, was even some -hours older before the report thereof reached Compiègne.</p> - -<p class="normal">We must beg the gentle reader to remember a sunny-faced youth, for -whom the fair queen of France, Agnes de Meranie, was, when last we -left him, working a gay coat of arms. This garment, which it was then -customary to bear over the armour, was destined to be worn by one -whose sad place in history has caused many a tear--Arthur the son of -that Geoffrey Plantagenet, who was elder brother of John Lackland, the -meanest and most pitiful villain that ever wore a crown.</p> - -<p class="normal">How it happened that, on the death of Richard Cœur de Lion, the -barons of England adhered to an usurper they despised rather than to -their legitimate prince, forms no part of this history. Suffice it, -that John ruled in England, and also retained possession of all the -feofs of his family in France, Normandy, Poitou, Anjou, and -Acquitaine, leaving to Arthur nought but the duchy of Brittany, which -descended to him from Constance his mother.</p> - -<p class="normal">It is not, however, to be thought that Arthur endured with patience -his uncle's usurpation of his rights. Far from it. Brought up at the -court of France, he clung to Philip Augustus, the friend in whose arms -his father had died, and ceased not to importune him for aid to -recover his dominions. Philip's limited means, fatigued already by -many vast enterprises, for long prevented him from lending that -succour to the young prince, which every principle of policy and -generosity stimulated him to grant. But while no national cause of -warfare existed to make the war against king John popular with the -barons of France, and while the vassals of the English king, though an -usurper, remained united in their attachment to him, Phillip felt that -to attempt the forcible assertion of Arthur's rights would be -altogether hopeless. He waited, therefore, watching his opportunity, -very certain that the weak frivolity or the treacherous depravity of -John's character would soon either alienate some portion of his own -vassals, or furnish matter of quarrel for the barons of France.</p> - -<p class="normal">Several years thus passed after Richard's death, drawn out in idle -treaties and fruitless negotiations:--treaties which in all ages have -been but written parchments; and negotiations, which in most instances -are but concatenations of frauds. At length, as Philip had foreseen, -the combination of folly and wickedness, which formed the principal -point of John's mind, laid him open to the long-meditated blow.</p> - -<p class="normal">In one of his spurts of levity, beholding in the midst of her -attendants the beautiful Isabella of Angoulême, affianced to Hugues le -Brun de Lusignan, Comte de la Marche, the English monarch--without the -least hesitation on the score of honour, which he never knew, or -decency, which he never practised,--ordered her to be carried off from -the midst of her attendants, and borne to the castle of the Gueret, -where he soon induced her to forget her former engagements with his -vassal.</p> - -<p class="normal">The barons of Poitou, indignant at the insult offered to their order, -in the person of one of their noblest companions; and to their family, -in the near relation of all the most distinguished nobles of the -province, appealed to the court of Philip Augustus, as John's -sovereign for his feofs in France. Philip, glad to establish the -rights of his court, summoned the king of England before his peers, as -count of Anjou; and on his refusing to appear, eagerly took advantage -of the fresh kindled indignation of the barons of Poitou and Anjou to -urge the rights of Arthur to the heritage of the Plantagenets.</p> - -<p class="normal">Already in revolt against John, a great part of each of those -provinces instantly acknowledged Arthur for their sovereign; and the -indignant nobles flocked to Paris to greet him, and induce him to -place himself at their head. Arthur beheld himself now at the top of -that tide which knows no ebb, but leads on to ruin or to glory; and -accepting at once the offers of the revolted barons, he pressed Philip -Augustus to give him the belt and spurs of a knight, though still -scarcely more than a boy; and to let him try his fortune against his -usurping uncle in the field.</p> - -<p class="normal">Philip saw difficulties and dangers in the undertaking; but, knowing -the power of opportunity, he yielded: not, however, without taking -every precaution to ensure success to the young prince's enterprise. -For the festivities that were to precede the ceremony of Arthur's -knighthood, he called together all those barons who were most likely, -from ancient enmity to John, or ancient friendship for the dead -Geoffrey, or from personal regard for himself, or general love of -excitement and danger,--or, in short, from any of those causes that -might move the minds of men towards his purpose,--to aid in -establishing Arthur in the continental feofs, at least, of the House -of Plantagenet.</p> - -<p class="normal">He took care, too, to dazzle them with splendour and display, and to -render the ceremonies which accompanied the prince's reception as a -knight as gay and glittering as possible.</p> - -<p class="normal">It was for this occasion that Agnes de Meranie, while Philip was -absent receiving the final refusal of John to appear before his court, -employed her time in embroidering the coat of arms which the young -knight was to wear after his reception.</p> - -<p class="normal">Although the ceremony was solemn, and the details magnificent, we will -not here enter into any account of the creation of a knight, reserving -it for some occasion where we have not spent so much time in -description. Suffice it that the ceremony was over, and the young -knight stood before his godfather in chivalry belted and spurred, and -clothed in the full armour of a knight. His beaver was up, and his -young and almost feminine face would have formed a strange contrast -with his warlike array, had it not been for the fire of the -Plantagenets beaming out in his eye, and asserting his right to the -proud crest he bore,--where a bunch of broom was supported by the -triple figure of a lion, a unicorn, and a griffin, the ancient crest -of the fabulous king Arthur.</p> - -<p class="normal">After a few maxims of chivalry, heard with profound respect by all the -knights present, Philip Augustus rose, and, taking Arthur by the hand, -led the way from the chapel into his council-chamber, where, having -seated himself on his throne, he placed the prince on his right hand, -and the barons having ranged themselves round the council-board, the -king addressed them thus:--</p> - -<p class="normal">"Fair knights, and noble barons of Anjou and Poitou!--for to you, -amongst all the honourable lords and knights here present, I first -address myself,--at your instant prayer, that we should take some -measures to free you from the tyranny of an usurper, and restore to -you your lawful suzerain, we are about to yield you our well-beloved -cousin and son, Arthur, whom we tender as dearly as if he were sprung -from our own blood. Guard him, therefore, nobly. Be ye to him true and -faithful,--for Arthur Plantagenet is your lawful suzerain, and none -other, as son of Geoffrey, elder brother of that same John who now -usurps his rights: I, therefore, Philip, king of France, your -sovereign and his, now command you to do homage to him as your liege -lord."</p> - -<p class="normal">At these words, each of the barons he addressed rose in turn, and, -advancing, knelt before the young prince, over whose fair and noble -countenance a blush of generous embarrassment spread itself, as he saw -some of the best knights in France bend the knee before him. One after -another, also, the barons pronounced the formula of homage, to the -following effect:--</p> - -<p class="normal">"I, Hugo le Brun, Sire de Lusignan, Comte de la Marche, do liege -homage to Arthur Plantagenet, my born lord and suzerain,--save and -except always the rights of the king of France. I will yield him -honourable service; I will ransom him in captivity; and I will offer -no evil to his daughter or his wife in his house dwelling."</p> - -<p class="normal">After this, taking the right hand of each in his, Arthur kissed them -on the mouth; which completed the ceremony of the homage.</p> - -<p class="normal">"And now, fair barons," said Philip, "though in no degree do I doubt -your knightly valour, or suppose that, even by your own powers, -together with this noble youth's good right, and God to boot, you -could not chase from Anjou, Poitou, and Normandy, the traitor John and -his plundering bands, yet it befits me not to let my cousin and godson -go, without some help from me:--name, therefore, my fair knight," he -continued, turning to Arthur, "such of my valiant barons as, in thy -good suit, thou judgest fit to help thee valiantly in this thy -warfare; and, by my faith! he that refuses to serve thee as he would -me, shall be looked upon as my enemy!--Yet remember," added the king, -anxious to prevent offence where Arthur's choice might <i>not</i> fall, -although such selections were common in that day, and not considered -invidious,--"remember that it is not by worthiness and valour alone -that you must judge,--for then, amongst the knights of France, your -decision would be difficult; but there are, as I have before shown -you, many points which render some of the barons more capable of -assisting you against John of England than others;--such as their -territories lying near the war; their followers being horse or foot; -and many other considerations which must guide you as you choose."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Oh, beau sire," replied Arthur eagerly, "if it rests with me to -choose, I name at once that Sir Guy de Coucy I saw at the tournament -of the Champeaux. There is the lion in his eye, and I have heard how -in the battle of Tyre he slew nineteen Saracens with his own hand."</p> - -<p class="normal">"He shall be sent to before the year is older by a day," replied -Philip. "His castle is but one day's journey from this place. I doubt -me though, from what I have heard, that his retinue is but small. -However, we will summon all the vassals from the lands of his aunt's -husband, the lord of Tankerville, which will give him the leading of a -prince; and, in the mean time, as that may take long, we will give him -command to gather a band of Brabançois; which may be soon done, for -the country is full of them, unhappily.--But speak again, Arthur. Whom -name you next?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"I would say, Hugues de Dampierre, and the Sire de Beaujeu," replied -Arthur, looking towards the end of the table where those two barons -sat, "if I thought they would willingly come."</p> - -<p class="normal">"By my life, they will!" replied Philip.--"What say you, Imbert de -Beaujeu?--What say you, Hugues de Dampierre?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"For my part," replied Hugues de Dampierre, "you well know, beau sire, -that I am always ready to put my foot in the stirrup, in any -honourable cause. I must, however, have twenty days to raise my -vassals; but I pledge myself, on the twenty-first day from this, to be -at the city of Tours, followed by sixty as good knights as ever -couched a lance, all ready to uphold prince Arthur with hand and -heart."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Thanks, thanks! beau sire," replied Arthur, in an ecstasy of delight, -"That will be aid, indeed!" Then, careful not to offend the barons of -Poitou by seeming to place more confidence in the strength of others -than in their efforts in his cause, he added, "If, even by the -assistance of the noble barons of Poitou alone, I could not have -conquered my feofs in France, such generous succour would render my -success certain; and in truth, I think, that if the Sire de Beaujeu, -and the Count de Nevers, who looks as if he loved me, will but hold me -out a helping hand, I will undertake to win back my crown of England -from my bad uncle's head."</p> - -<p class="normal">"That will I,--that will I, boy!" said the blunt Count de Nevers. -"Hervey de Donzy will lend you his hand willingly, and his sword in it -to boot. Ay, and if I bring thee not an hundred good lances to Tours, -at the end of twenty days, call me recreant an' you will. My say is -said!"</p> - -<p class="normal">"And I," said Imbert de Beaujeu, "will be there also, with as many men -as I can muster, and as many friends as love me, from the other bank -of the Loire. So, set thy mind at ease, fair prince, for we will win -thee back the feofs of the Plantagenets, or many a war-horse shall run -masterless, and many a casque be empty."</p> - -<p class="normal">Arthur was expressing his glad thanks, for promises which plumed his -young hope like an eagle; and Philip Augustus was dictating to a clerk -a summons to De Coucy to render himself instantly to Paris, with what -servants of arms he could collect, if he were willing to serve Arthur -duke of Brittany in his righteous quarrel; when the seats which had -remained vacant round the council-chamber were filled by the arrival -of the bishops of Paris, the archbishop of Rheims, and several other -bishops and mitred abbots, who had not assisted at the ceremony of -Arthur's knighthood.</p> - -<p class="normal">"You come late, holy fathers," said Philip, slightly turning round. -"The ceremony is over, and the council nearly so;" and he proceeded -with what he was dictating to the clerk.</p> - -<p class="normal">The clergy replied not, but by a whisper among themselves; yet it was -easy to judge, from their grave and wrinkled brows, and anxious eyes, -that some matter of deep moment sat heavily on the mind of each. The -moment after, however, the door of the council-chamber again opened, -and two ecclesiastics entered, who, by the distinctive marks which -characterise national features, might at once be pronounced Italians.</p> - -<p class="normal">The clerk, who wrote from Philip's dictation, was kneeling at the -table beside the monarch's chair, so that, speaking in a low voice, -the king naturally bent his head over him, and consequently took no -notice of the two strangers, till he was surprised into looking up, by -hearing a deep loud voice begin to read, in Latin, all the most heavy -denunciations of the church against his realm and person.</p> - -<p class="normal">"By the Holy Virgin Mother of Our Lord!" cried the king, his brow -reddening and glowing like heated iron, "this insolence is beyond -belief! Have they then dared to put our realm in interdict?"</p> - -<p class="normal">This question, though made generally, was too evidently applied to the -bishops, for them to escape reply; and the archbishop of Rheims, -though with a flush on his cheek, that bespoke no small anxiety for -the result, replied boldly, at least as far as words went.</p> - -<p class="normal">"It is but too true, sire. Our holy father the pope, the common head -of the great Christian church, after having in vain attempted to lead -you by gentle means to religious obedience, has at length been -compelled, in some sort, to use severity; as a kind parent is often -obliged to chastise his----"</p> - -<p class="normal">"How now!" cried Philip in a voice of thunder: "Dare <i>you</i> use such -language to me? I marvel you sink not to the earth, bishop, rather -than so pronounce your own condemnation!--Put those men forth!" he -continued, pointing to the two Italians, who, not understanding any -thing that was said at the table, continued to read aloud the -interdict and anathema, interrupting and drowning every other voice, -with a sort of thorough bass of curses, that, detached and disjointed -as they were, almost approached the ridiculous. "Put them forth!" -thundered the king to his men-at-arms. "If they go not willingly, cast -them out headlong!--But no!" he added, after a moment, "they are but -instruments--use them firmly, but courteously, serjeant. Let me not -see them again.--And now, archbishop, tell me, have you dared to give -your countenance and assent to this bold insolence of the pontiff of -Rome?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"Alas! sire, what could I do?" demanded the archbishop, in a much more -humble tone than that which he had before used.</p> - -<p class="normal">"What could you do!" exclaimed Philip. "By the <i>joyeuse</i> of St. -Charlemagne! do you ask me what you could do? Assert the rights of the -clergy of France!--assert the rights of the king!--refuse to recognise -the usurped power of an ambitious prelate! Yield him obedience in -lawful things; but stand firmly against him, where he stretched out -his hand to seize a prerogative that belongs not to his place! This -could you have done, sir bishop! and, by the Lord that liveth, you -shall find it the worse for you, that you have <i>not</i> done it!"</p> - -<p class="normal">"But, sire," urged one of the prelates on the king's right, "the -blessed pope is our general and common father!"</p> - -<p class="normal">"Is it the act of a father to invade his children's rights?" demanded -Philip in the same vehement tone--"is it not rather the act of a bad -stepfather, who, coming in, pillages his new wife's children of their -inheritance?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"By my life! a good likeness have you found, sir king!" said the blunt -Count de Nevers. "I never heard a better. The holy church is the poor -simple wife, who takes for her second husband this pope Innocent, who -tries to pillage the children--namely, the church of France--of their -rights of deciding on all ecclesiastical questions within the realm."</p> - -<p class="normal">"It is too true, indeed!" said the king. "Now, mark me, prelates of -France! But you first, archbishop of Rheims! Did you not solemnly -pronounce the dissolution of my marriage with Ingerburge of Denmark, -after mature consideration and consultation with a general synod of -the clergy of France?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"It is true, indeed, I did, sire!" replied the archbishop. "But----"</p> - -<p class="normal">"But me no buts! sir," replied the king. "I will none of them! You -did pronounce the divorce. I have it under your hand, and that is -enough.--And you, bishop of Paris? You of Soissons?--and you?--and -you?--and you?" he continued, turning to the prelates, one after the -other.</p> - -<p class="normal">No one could deny the sentence of divorce which they had pronounced -some years before, and Philip proceeded.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Well then, by the Lord Almighty, I swear, that you <i>must</i>, and -<i>shall</i>, support your sentence! If you were wrong, you shall bear the -blame and the punishment; not I--no, nor one I love better than -myself. Let that bishop in France, who did not pronounce sentence of -divorce between Ingerburge and myself, enforce the interdict within -his diocese if he will; but whosoever shall do so, bishop or abbot, -whose hand is to that sentence, I will cast him forth from his -diocese, and his feofs, and his lands. I will strip him of his wealth -and his rank, and banish him from my realms for ever. Let it be marked -and remembered! for, as I am a crowned king, I will keep my word to -the letter!"</p> - -<p class="normal">Philip spoke in that firm, deep, determined tone, which gave no reason -to hope or expect that any thing on earth would make him change his -purpose. And after he had done, he laid his hand still clasped upon -the table, the rigid sinews seeming with difficulty to relax in the -least from the tension into which the vehement excitement of his mind -had drawn them. He glanced his eyes, too, from countenance to -countenance of the bishops, with a look that seemed to dare them to -show one sign of resistance.</p> - -<p class="normal">But all their eyes were cast down in bitter silence, each well knowing -that the fault, however it arose, lay amongst themselves; and Philip, -after a moment's pause, rose from the table, exclaiming--"Lords and -knights, the council is over;" and, followed by Arthur and the -principal part of the barons, he left the hall.</p> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<h3>CHAPTER III.</h3> -<br> - -<p class="continue">I love not to see any one depart, for the sad magic of fancy is sure -to conjure up a host of phantasm danger, and sorrows, to fill the -space between the instant present, and that far distant one, when the -same form shall again stand before us. We are sure, too, that Time -must work his bitter commission,--that he must impair, or cast down, -or destroy; and I know hardly any pitch of human misery so great, that -when we see a beloved form leave us, we may justly hope, on our next -meeting, to find all circumstances of a brighter aspect. Make up our -accounts how we will with Fate, Time is always in the balance against -us.</p> - -<p class="normal">The last sight of Isadore of the Mount called up in the breast of Guy -de Coucy as sombre a train of thoughts as ever invaded the heart of -man since the fall. When might he see her again? he asked himself, and -what might intervene? Would she not forget him? would she indeed be -his till death? Would not the slow flowing of hour after hour, with -all the obliterating circumstance of time's current, efface his image -from her memory? and even if her heart still retained the traces that -young affection had there imprinted, what but misery would it bring to -both? He had spoken hopes to her ear, that he did not feel himself; -and, when he looked up at the large, dark mass of towers and -battlements before him, as he turned back from the barbican, it struck -his eye with the cold, dead, unhopeful aspect of a tomb. He entered -it, however, and, proceeding direct to the inner court, approached the -foot of the watch-tower, the small, narrow door of which opened there, -without communicating with any other building.</p> - -<p class="normal">De Coucy paced up its manifold steps, and, stationing himself at the -opening, fixed his eyes upon the skirt of the forest, where the road -emerged, waiting for one more glance of her he loved, though the -distance made the sight but a mere slave of Fancy. In about a quarter -of an hour, the train of Sir Julian appeared, issuing from the forest; -and De Coucy gazed, and gazed, upon the woman's form that rode beside -the chief of the horsemen, till the whole became an indistinct mass of -dark spots, as they wound onward towards Vernon.</p> - -<p class="normal">Feeling, he knew not why, an abhorrence to his own solitary hall, the -young knight remained leaning his arms upon the slight balustrade of -the beffroy-tower, which, open on all sides, was only carried up -farther by four small pillars supporting the roof, where hung the -heavy bell call the <i>bancloche</i>. As he thus continued meditating on -all that was gloomy in his situation, his eyes still strayed -heedlessly over the prospect; sometimes turning in the direction of -Paris, as he thought of seeking fortune and honour in arms; sometimes -looking again towards Vernon though the object of his love was no -longer visible.</p> - -<p class="normal">On the road from Paris, however, two objects were to be seen, which he -had not remarked before. The first was the figure of a man on foot, at -about half a mile's distance from the castle, to which it was slowly -approaching: the other was still so far off, that De Coucy could not -distinguish at first whether it was a horseman, or some wayfarer on -foot; but the rapidity with which it passed the various rises and -falls of the road, soon showed him that whoever it was, was not only -mounted, but proceeding at the full speed of a quick horse.</p> - -<p class="normal">For a moment or two, from old habits of observation as a soldier, De -Coucy watched its approach; but then again really careless about every -thing that did not refer to his more absorbing feelings, he turned -from the view, and slowly descended the steps of the tower.</p> - -<p class="normal">His feet turned once more mechanically to the drawbridge, and placing -himself under the arch of the barbican, he leaned his tall, graceful -figure against one of the enormous door-posts, revolving a thousand -vague schemes for his future existence. The strong swimmer Hope, still -struggled up through the waves that Reflection poured continually on -his head; and De Coucy's dreams were still of how he might win high -fortune and Isadora of the Mount.</p> - -<p class="normal">Should he, in the first place, he asked himself, defy Guillaume de la -Roche Guyon, and make him yield his claim? But no;--he remembered the -serious vow of the old count; and he saw, that by so doing he should -but cast another obstacle on the pile already heaped up between him -and his purpose. Sir Julian had said, too, that Isadore's hand was not -to be given away till the coming wars were over. Those wars might be -long, De Coucy thought, and uncertain,--and hope lives upon reprieves. -He must trust to accident, and, in the mean time, strive manfully to -repair the wrong that Fortune had done him. But how? was the question. -Tournaments, wars,--all required some equipment, and his shrunk purse -contained not a single besant.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Oh! 'tis a steep and rugged ascent!" thought De Coucy, "that same -hill of Fortune; and the man must labour hard that would climb it, -like yon old man, toiling up the steep path that leads hither."</p> - -<p class="normal">Such was the only notice that the young knight at first took of the -weary foot-traveller he had seen from above; but gradually the figure, -dressed in its long brown robe, with the white beard streaming down to -the girdle, appeared more familiar to him; and a few steps more, as -the old man advanced, called fully to his remembrance the hermit whose -skill had so speedily brought about the cure of his bruises in -Auvergne, and whom we have since had more than one occasion to bring -upon the scene.</p> - -<p class="normal">De Coucy had, by nature, that true spirit of chivalrous gallantry, -even the madness of which has been rendered beautiful by the great -Spaniard. No sooner did he recognise the old man than he advanced to -meet him, and aided him as carefully up the steep ascent as a son -might aid a parent.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Welcome, good father hermit!" said he. "Come you here by accident, or -come you to rest for a while at the hold of so poor a knight as -myself?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"I came to see whether thou wert alive or dead," replied the hermit. -"I knew not whether some new folly might not have taken thee from the -land of the living."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Not yet," replied De Coucy with a smile: "my fate is yet an unsealed -one. But, in faith, good father, I am glad to see thee; for, when thou -hast broken thy fast in my hall, I would fain ask thee for some few -words of good counsel."</p> - -<p class="normal">"To follow your own, after you have asked mine?" replied the hermit. -"Such is the way with man, at least.--But first, as you say, my son, I -will break my fast. Bid some of the lazy herd that of course feed on -you, seek me some cresses from the brook, and give me a draught of -water."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Must such be your sole food, good hermit?" demanded De Coucy. "Will -not your vow admit of some more nourishing repast, after so long a -journey too?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"I seek nought better," replied the hermit, as De Coucy led him into -the hall. "I am not one of those who hold, that man was formed to gnaw -the flesh of all harmless beasts, as if he were indeed but a more -cowardly sort of tiger. Let your men give me what I ask,--somewhat -that never felt the throb of life, or the sting of death,--those -wholesome herbs that God gave to be food to all that live, to bless -the sight with their beauty, and the smell with their odour, and the -palate with their grateful freshness. Give me no tiger's food. But -thou lookest sad, my son," he added, gazing in De Coucy's face, from -which much of the sparkling expression of undimmed gaiety of heart -that used once to shine out in every feature had now passed away.</p> - -<p class="normal">"I <i>am</i> sad, good hermit," replied the young knight. "Time holds two -cups, I have heard say, both of which each man must drink in the -course of his life;--either now the sweet, and then the bitter; or the -bitter first, and the sweet after; or else, mingling them both -together, taste the mixed beverage through existence. Now, I have -known much careless happiness in the days past, and I am beginning to -quaff off the bitter bowl, sir hermit."</p> - -<p class="normal">"There is but one resource," said the hermit, "there is but one -resource, my son!"</p> - -<p class="normal">"And what is that?" demanded De Coucy. "Do you mean death?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"Nay," replied the old man; "I meant Christ's cross. There is the -hope, and the succour, and the reward for all evils suffered in this -life! Mark me as I sit here before thee:--didst thou ever see a thing -more withered--broken--worn? And yet I was once full of green -strength, and flourishing--as proud a thing as ever trampled on his -mother-earth: rich, honoured, renowned: I was a very giant in my -vanity! My sway stretched over wide, wide lands. My lance was always -in the vanward of the battle; my voice was heard in courts, and my -council was listened to by kings. I held in my arms the first young -love of my heart; and, strange to say! that love increased, and grew -to such absorbing passion, that, as years rolled on, I quitted all for -it--ambition, strife, pride, friendship,--all!"</p> - -<p class="normal">"Methinks, surely," said De Coucy, with all his feelings for Isadore -fresh on his heart's surface, "such were the way to be happy!"</p> - -<p class="normal">"As much as the way for a gambler to win is to stake all his wealth -upon one cast," replied the hermit. "But, mark me! she died, and left -me childless--hopeless--alone! And I went out into the world to search -for something that might refill the void her loss had left, not in my -heart, for that was as a sepulchre to my dead love, never to be opened -again;--no, but to fill the void in my thoughts--to give me something -to think of--to care for. I went amongst men of my own age (for I was -then unbroken), but I found them feelingless or brutal, sensual and -voluptuous; either plunderers of their neighbours, or mere eaters and -drinkers of fifty. I then went amongst the old; but I found them -querulous and tetchy; brimful of their own miseries, and as selfish in -their particular pains, as the others in their particular pleasures. I -went amongst the young, and there I found generous feelings and unworn -thoughts; and free and noble hearts, from which the accursed chisel of -time had never hewn out the finer and more exquisite touches of -Nature's perfecting hand: but then, I found the wild, ungovernable -struggling of the war-horse for the battle-plain; the light, -thoughtless impatience of the flower-changing butterfly, and I gave it -all up as a hopeless search, and sunk back into my loneliness again. -My soul withered; my mind got twisted and awry, like the black stumps -of the acacia on the sterile plains of the desert; and I lived on in -murmuring grief and misanthropy, till came a blessed light upon my -mind, and I found <i>that</i> peace at the foot of Christ's cross, which -the world and its things could never give. Then it was I quitted the -habitations of men, in whose commune I had found no consolation, and -gave myself up to the brighter hopes that opened to me from the world -beyond!"</p> - -<p class="normal">De Coucy was listening with interest, when the sound of the warder's -horn from one of the towers announced that something was in sight, of -sufficient importance to call for immediate attention.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Where is Hugo de Barre, exclaimed the knight, starting up; and, -excusing this incivility to the hermit, he proceeded to ascertain the -cause of the interruption.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Hugo de Barre is in the tower himself, beau sire," replied old Onfroy -the seneschal, whom De Coucy crossed at the hall door, just as he was -carrying in a platter full of herbs to the hermit, with no small -symptoms of respect. "I see not why he puts himself up there, to blow -his horn, as soon as he comes back! He was never created warder, I -trow!"</p> - -<p class="normal">Without staying to notice the old man's stickling for prerogative, De -Coucy hastened to demand of the squire wherefore he had sounded the -great warder horn, which hung in the watch-tower.</p> - -<p class="normal">"One of the king's serjeants-at-arms," cried Hugo from the top of the -tower, "is but now riding up the hill to the castle, as fast as he can -come, beau sire."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Shut the gates," exclaimed De Coucy. "Up with the bridge!"</p> - -<p class="normal">These orders were just obeyed, when the king's serjeant, whom Hugo had -seen from above, rode up and blew his horn before the gates. De Coucy -had by this time mounted the outer wall, and, looking down upon the -royal officer, demanded, "Whence come ye, sir serjeant, and whom seek -ye?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"I come from Philip king of France," replied the serjeant, "and seek -Sir Guy de Coucy, châtelain of De Coucy Magny."</p> - -<p class="normal">"If you seek for no homage or man-service, in the king's name, for -these my free lands of Magny," replied De Coucy, "my gates shall open -and my bridge shall fall; but, if you come to seek liege homage, -return to our beau sire, the king, and tell him, that of my own hand I -hold these lands; that for them I am not his man; but that they were -given as free share, by Clovis, to their first possessor, from whom to -me, through father and child, they have by right descended."</p> - -<p class="normal">"I come with no claim, beau sire," replied the royal messenger, "but -simply bear you a loving letter from my liege lord. Sir<a name="div4Ref_19" href="#div4_19"><sup>[19]</sup></a> Philip the -king, with hearty greetings on his part."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Open the gates, then," cried De Coucy, still, however, taking the -precaution to add, in a loud voice,--"Mark, all men, that this is not -in sign or token of homage or service; but merely as a courtesy to the -messenger of the lord king!" So unsettled and insecure was the right -of property in those days, and such were the precautions necessary to -guard every act that might be construed into vassalage!</p> - -<p class="normal">De Coucy descended to receive the messenger; and, on entering the -hall, found the old seneschal still busy in serving the hermit, and -apparently bestowing on him a full, true, and particular account of -the family of the De Coucys, as well as of his young lord's virtues, -exploits, and adventures, with the profound and inexhaustible -garrulity of an old and favoured servant. At the knight's approach, -however, he withdrew; and the king's serjeant-at-arms was ushered into -the hall.</p> - -<p class="normal">"I was commanded to wait no answer, beau sire," said the man, -delivering the packet into the châtelain's hand. "The king, trusting -to the known loyalty and valour of the Sire de Coucy, deemed that -there would be but one reply, when he was called to high deeds and a -good cause."</p> - -<p class="normal">"By my faith!" exclaimed the knight, "I hope some one has dared to -touch the glove I hung up in the queen's good quarrel! I will drive my -lance through his heart, if it be defended with triple iron! But I see -thou art in haste, good friend. Drain one cup of wine, and thou shalt -depart."</p> - -<p class="normal">De Coucy cut not the silk that tied the packet till the messenger was -gone. Then, however, he opened it eagerly, and read:--</p> - -<p class="normal">"To our faithful and well-beloved Sir Guy de Coucy, these. Having -undertaken and pledged our kingly word to Arthur Plantagenet duke of -Brittany, our well-beloved cousin and godson in arms, to aid him and -assist him, to the utmost of our power, in his just and righteous war -against John of Anjou, calling himself king of England: and he, -Arthur, our cousin, as aforesaid, having desired us to use our best -entreaty and endeavour to prevail on you. Sir Guy de Coucy, renowned -in arms, to aid with your body and friends in his aforesaid just wars; -we therefore, thus moved, do beg, as a king may beg, that you will -instantly, on the reading hereof, call together your vassals and -followers, knights, squires, and servants of arms, together with all -persons of good heart and prowess in war, volunteers or mercenaries, -as the case may be, to join the aforesaid Arthur at our court of the -city of Paris, within ten days from the date hereof, for the purposes -hereinbefore specified. Honour in arms, fair favour of your lady, and -the king's thanks, shall be your reward: and, for the payment of such -Brabançois or other mercenaries as you can collect to serve under your -banner in the said wars, not to exceed five hundred men, this letter -shall be your warrant on the treasurer of our royal <i>domaines</i>; at the -average hire and pay, mensual and diurnal, given by us during the last -war. Given at our court of Paris, this Wednesday, the eve of the -nativity of the blessed Virgin, Queen of Heaven, to whom we commend -thee in all love.</p> - -<p class="right">"<span class="sc">The King</span>."</p> - - -<p class="normal">A radiant flush of joy broke over De Coucy's countenance as he read; -but before his eye had reached the end of the letter, importunate -memory raked up the forgotten bankruptcy of his means, and cast it in -his teeth. The hand which held the letter before his eyes dropped to -his side; and with the fingers of the other he wandered thoughtfully -over his brow, while he considered and reconsidered every expedient -for raising sums sufficient to furnish him worthily forth for the -expedition to which he was called. In the mean while, the hermit sat -beside him, marking his every action, with a glance that might perhaps -have suited Diogenes, had not a certain pensive shake of the head, as -he gazed on the working of human passions in the noble form before -him, showed a somewhat milder feeling than the cynic of the tub was -ever touched withal.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Oh, that foul creditor, Poverty!" muttered De Coucy. "He chains the -mind and the heart, as well as the limbs; and pinions down great -desires and noble actions, to the dungeon floor of this sordid world. -Here, with a career of glory before me, that might lead to riches, to -fame, to love! I have not a besant to equip my train, all tattered -from the wars in Palestine. As for the Brabançois, too, that the king -bids me bring, they must ever have some money to equip, before they -are fit for service. He should have known <i>that</i>, at least; but he -forgot he wrote to a beggar, who could not advance a crown were it to -save his nearest from starvation!"</p> - -<p class="normal">"You are vexed, my son," said the hermit, "and speak aloud, though you -know it not. What is it moves thee thus?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"I am moved, good hermit," replied the knight sadly, "that now--at the -very moment when all the dearest hopes of my heart call on me to push -forward to the highest goal of honour, and when the way is clear -before me--that the emptiness of my purse--the perfect beggary of my -fortunes, casts a bar in my way that I cannot overleap. Read that -letter, and then know, that, instead of a baron's train, I can but -bring ten mounted men to serve prince Arthur; nor are these armed or -equipped so that I can look on them without shame. My lodging must be -in the field, my food gathered from the earth, till the day of battle; -nor dare I join the prince till then, for the expenses of the city -suit not those whose purses are so famished as mine."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Nay, my son," replied the hermit calmly, "think better of thy -fortunes. To win much, one must often lose somewhat: and by a small -expense, though you may not ruffle it amongst the proudest of the -prince's train, you may fit yourself to grace it decently, till such -time as in the battle-field you can show how little akin is courage to -wealth. This may be surely done at a very small expense of gold."</p> - -<p class="normal">"A small expense of gold!" exclaimed the young knight impatiently. "I -tell thee, good father, I have none! None--no, not a besant!"</p> - -<p class="normal">"Nay, then," replied the hermit, "something you must sell, to produce -more hereafter. That rare carbuncle in your thumb-ring will bring you -doubtless gold enough to shine as brightly as the best."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Nay," said De Coucy, "I part not with that. I would rather cut off -the hand it hangs upon, and coin that into gold."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Some woman's trinket," said the hermit with a frown; for men attached -to the church, by whatever ties, were not very favourable to the -idolatrous devotion of that age to the fairer sex--a devotion which -they might think somewhat trenched upon their rights. "Some woman's -trinket, on my life!" said the hermit. "Thou wouldst guard no holy -relic so, young man."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Faith, hermit, you do me wrong," replied De Coucy, without flinching. -"Though my love to my lady be next to my duty to my God, yet this is -not, as you say, a woman's trinket. 'Twas the gift of a good and noble -knight, the Count de Tankerville, to me, then young and going to the -Holy Land, put on my finger with many a wise and noble counsel, by -which I have striven to guide me since. Death, as thou hast heard, -good hermit, has since placed his cold bar between us; but I would not -part with this for worlds of ore. I am like the wild Arab of the -desert," he added with a smile, "in this sort somewhat superstitious; -and I hold this ring, together with the memory of the good man who -gave it, as a sort of talisman to guard me from evil spirits."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Well! if thou wilt not part with it, I cannot help thee," replied the -hermit. "Yet I know a certain jeweller would give huge sums of silver -for such a stone as that."</p> - -<p class="normal">"It cannot be!" answered De Coucy. "But now thou mind'st me; I have a -bright smaragd, that, in my young days of careless prosperity, I -bought of a rich Jew at Ascalon. If it were worth the value that he -gave it, 'twere now a fortune to me. I pray thee, gentle hermit, take -it with thee to the city. Give it to the jeweller thou speakest of; -and bid him, as an honest and true man, send me with all speed what -sum he may."</p> - -<p class="normal">The hermit undertook the charge; and De Coucy instantly sent his page -to the chamber, where he had left the emerald, which, being brought -down, he committed to the hands of the old man, praying him to make no -delay. The hermit, however, still seemed to hanker after the large -carbuncle on De Coucy's hand, (which was also, be it remarked, -engraved with his signet,) and it was not till the young knight had -once and again repeated his refusal, that he rose to depart.</p> - -<p class="normal">De Coucy conducted him to the outer gate, followed by his page, who, -when the old man had given his blessing, and begun to descend the -hill, shook his head with a meaning look, exclaiming, "Ah, beau sire! -he has got the emerald; and, I fear, you will never hear more of it: -but he has not got the carbuncle, which was what he wanted. When first -he saw you, at the time you were hurt in Auvergne, he looked at -nothing but that; and would have had it off your hand, too, if Hugo -and I had not kept our eyes on him all the while."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Nonsense, nonsense, boy!" cried De Coucy; "send me the new servant of -arms, Jodelle!"</p> - -<p class="normal">The coterel was not long in obeying the summons. "You told me," said -De Coucy, as he approached, "not many days ago, that you had once been -followed by a band of two hundred Brabançois, who were now, you heard, -roaming about, seeking service with some baron or suzerain who would -give them employment. Have you any means of communicating with them, -should you wish it?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"Why, you know, beau sire," replied Jodelle, "and there is no use of -denying it, that we are oftentimes obliged to separate when the wars -are over, and go hither and thither to seek food as we best may; but -we take good care not to do so without leaving some chance of our -meeting again, when we desire it. The ways we manage that, are part of -our mystery, which I am in no manner bound to divulge; but I doubt not -I could soon discover, at least, where my ancient companions are."</p> - -<p class="normal">"I seek none of your secrets, sir Brabançois," said De Coucy. "If you -can find your companions, do; and tell them for me, that the king -calls upon me to aid the prince Arthur Plantagenet against bad John of -Anjou, giving me commission, at the same time, to raise a body of five -hundred free spears, to serve under my leading; for whose pay, at the -rate of the last war, Philip makes himself responsible. If your -companions will take service with me, therefore, they may; but each -man must have served before, must be well trained to arms, -disciplined, and obedient; for De Coucy is no marauder, to pass over -military faults, because ye be free companions."</p> - -<p class="normal">The coterel readily undertook a task that chimed so well with what he -already purposed; bounding his promises, however, to endeavours; and -striving to wring from De Coucy some offer of present supply to equip -his troop, whom he well knew to be in a very indifferent condition, as -far as arms and habiliments went.</p> - -<p class="normal">Finding this to be out of the young knight's power, he left him, and -proceeded, as rapidly as possible, to seek out the hiding-place of the -wild band, with whom we have already seen him in contact. His farther -motions for the next two days were not of sufficient interest to be -here put down; but on the third morning he presented himself at the -young knight's chamber-door, as he was rising, bringing him news that -he had discovered his band, and that they willingly agreed to follow -so renowned a knight. He added, moreover, that at mid-day precisely, -they would present themselves for <i>monstre</i>, as it was called, or -review, in the great carrefour of the forest. In the mean time, he -swore faith, true service, and obedience to the young knight in their -name, for so long as the war should last.</p> - -<p class="normal">The time of De Coucy and his followers had been employed in polishing -and preparing all the old arms, offensive and defensive, that the -castle contained; and of the former, indeed, no small quantity had -been collected; so that in the great hall lay many a sheaf of arrows -and a pile of spears, with swords, daggers, maces, and bows not a few; -some scores of battle-axes and partisans, together with various -anomalous weapons, such as bills, hooks, long knives, iron stars, and -cutting pikes. But of defensive armour the supply was wofully small.</p> - -<p class="normal">At the appointed hour of mid-day, the knight, followed by his squire -and servants, now armed more completely than on their return from -Palestine, proceeded to the great carrefour of the forest, where, as -they approached, they beheld the body of Brabançois already arrived on -the ground, and drawn up in so regular and soldierlike a manner, that -even the experienced eye of De Coucy was deceived at first, and he -fancied them as well-armed a body of cavalry as ever he had seen.</p> - -<p class="normal">When he came into the centre of the carrefour, however, a very -different sight struck his eye; and he could not help striking his -gauntleted hand upon his thigh till the armour rang again, with pure -mortification at seeing the hopeless state of rust and raggedness of -his new recruits.</p> - -<p class="normal">Nor was this all: not two of the party presented the same appearance. -One was in a steel corselet,--another in a haubert,--another -had neither one nor the other. Some had brassards,--some had -cuissards,--some had splints,--some had none at all. In short, it -seemed as if they had murdered half-a-dozen men-at-arms, and divided -their armour between two hundred; so that when De Coucy thought of -presenting himself, thus followed, at the court of Philip Augustus, he -was first like to give himself up to despair, and then burst into a -loud fit of laughter.</p> - -<p class="normal">A very slight circumstance, however, changed the face of affairs. As -he stood gazing on his ragged troop, with a half-rueful, half-laughing -countenance, an ass, apparently loaded with sand, and a man driving -it, were seen slowly approaching, as if intending to proceed to the -castle.</p> - -<p class="normal">"By the Lord!" cried the young knight, "this is a Godsend--for, on my -word, we shall want sand enough to scrub our armour. What hast thou -there, good man?" he added, as the ass and his driver came near.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Sand for the châtelain de Coucy," replied the man. "Be you he?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"Yes," answered the knight.--"Sand for me!--What mean you, good -friend? You must mistake."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Not so, beau sire!" replied the driver, approaching and speaking -low--"'tis a thousand marks of silver!"</p> - -<p class="normal">"Ha!--Who from?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"The price of a ring," replied the man, sent by the holy "Bernard of -St. Mandé by me, his humble penitent, to the Sire de Coucy."</p> - -<p class="normal">"That alters the matter!" cried the knight.--"That alters the matter! -Take thy sand to the castle, good friend.--Hugo, ride with all speed -to Vernon. Bring me all the armourers of the town, with all the arms -they have ready. Send a serf to Gisors on the same errand. A thousand -marks of silver! By the Lord that lives! I will equip an army!"</p> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<h3>CHAPTER IV.</h3> -<br> - -<p class="continue">The night was dark and gloomy. A thousand black clouds were flitting -over the sky, borne by a quick rough breeze, which ever and anon, with -wild caprice, would scatter them abroad, leaving the yellow moonlight -to shine bright upon their white edges, and pour a flood of mellow -radiance on the world below, and then again would whirl some deep -shadowy mass up from the profound verge of the horizon, and once more -overwhelm all in gloom and obscurity.</p> - -<p class="normal">Amidst such occasional glimpses of moonlight, struggled on from the -village of Vincennes, through the great forest of St. Mandé, a stout, -short man, wrapped in an immense cloak, and preceded by a boy holding -a torch, which the high wind threatened every moment to extinguish.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Art thou sure thou knowest the way, urchin?" cried the man, in a -wearied and panting tone, which argued plainly enough that his -corpulency loved not deeply the species of stumbling locomotion, to -which his legs subjected his paunch, amidst the roots and stones of -the forest path.--"Art thou sure that thou knowest the road?--Jesu -preserve me! I would not lose my way here, to be called to the -conclave!"</p> - -<p class="normal">"Oh, I know the way well!" replied the boy, in a shrill treble. "I -come here every day to ask the prayers of the holy hermit for my -grandmother, who is ninety years of age, and sick of a hydropsy."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Better pray God to take her, rather than to leave her!" replied his -companion. "'Tis a foolish errand mine,--'tis a foolish errand!" he -continued, speaking peevishly to himself, as he struggled to shake off -a pertinacious branch of withered thorn which, detached from its -parent bush, clung fondly to the tail of his robe, and trailed -solemnly on behind him. "Not the errand itself, which is holy, just, -and expedient; but the coming at night.--Take care, urchin! The wind -will blow it out, if you flaunt it after such a fashion. The coming at -night! Yet what could I do? The canon of St. Berthe's said true--that -if I came in the day, folks would say I could not govern my diocese -myself. I told you so, foolish child! I told you so! Now, what are we -to do?" continued he, raising his voice to the very highest pitch of -dismay and crossness, as a sharp gust of wind, up one of the long -glades, extinguished completely the flame of the torch, which had for -some time been wavering with a very undecided sort of flicker:--"now, -what are we to do?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"Oh, I know the way, as well without the light as with," replied the -same childish voice: "I'll lead you right, beau sire."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Ay, ay, child," said the other; "but I love not forests in the -dark:--this one has a bad name too--'tis said more sorts of evil -spirits than one haunt it. The Lord be merciful unto us! The devil is -powerful in these hours of darkness! And besides, there are other -dangers--" Here he stumbled over one of the large roots of an elm, shot -across the path, and would doubtless have fallen at full length, had -not his little guide's shoulder come opportunely in the way of his -hand, as it sprawled forth in the act of descent, and thus afforded -him some stay!--"Cursed be the root!" cried he;--"cursed be it, above -the earth and under the earth!--cursed be it in this life, and to all -eternity! Amen.--Lord have mercy upon me! Sinner that I am! I am -repeating the anathema. It will never go out of my head, that -anathema--cursed be it!--Boy, is it far off still?--Did not you hear a -noise?" he added suddenly.</p> - -<p class="normal">"I hear the rustling of the wind," replied the child, "but nothing -more. You folks that do not live near the forests do not know what -sounds it makes sometimes."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Evil spirits, boy!--evil spirits!" cried the man. "Evil spirits, I -tell thee, screaming in their malice; but I vow I hear a rushing, as -if there were some wild beasts.--Hark! hark!" and he grasped the boy's -arm, looking round and round in the darkness, which his fancy filled -with all the wild creation of fear.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Ne in furore tuo arguas me, Domine, neque in irâ tuâ corripias me. -Miserere mei, Domine, quoniam infirmus sum!" cried the frightened -traveller; when suddenly the clouds rolled white away from the face of -the moon, and her beams for a moment, streaming down clear upon them, -showed the wide open glade of the wood, untenanted by any one but -themselves, with the old ruined tomb in the forest, and the rude hut -of Bernard the hermit, "Kyrie eleïson! Christe eleïson!" cried the -traveller, at the sight of these blessed rays; and running forward to -reach the dwelling of the hermit, before the clouds again brought -darkness over the face of the earth, he arrived, all breathless and -panting, and struck hard with his fist against the closed door. "Open, -open! brother Bernard! and let me in," he cried loudly. "Let me in, -before the moon goes behind the cloud again."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Who art thou, who breakest through my prayers?" cried the voice of -the hermit. "And why fearest thou the going of the moon? Thou wilt not -be one jot wiser when she is gone?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"Nay! 'tis I, brother Bernard," replied the traveller, fretting with -impatience to get in. "'Tis I, I tell thee, man! Thy friend and -fellow-labourer in this poor vineyard of France!"</p> - -<p class="normal">"I have no friend but the Lord, and his holy saints," said the hermit, -opening the door.--"But how is this, lord bishop?</p> - -<p class="normal">"Hush! hush!" cried the other, holding up his hand. "Do not let the -boy hear thee!--I come in secret, upon matters of deep import."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Does not the text say, '<i>That which thou doest in secret shall be -proclaimed openly?</i>'" demanded the hermit.--"But what dost thou mean -to do with the boy?" continued he, laying his hand on the child's -head. "If he be as terrified as thou seemest to be, he will not love -to stay till thine errand with me is done."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Oh, I fear not, father," said the youth. "I am forest bred; and -nothing evil would come within sight of thy dwelling."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Well, poor lad!" said the hermit. "Sit there by the door; and if -aught scares thee, push it open, and come in."</p> - -<p class="normal">The boy accordingly seated himself by the door, which was shut upon -him; and the hermit pointed to a place on his bed of straw and moss -for the bishop's seat. If it had any distinction, 'twas solely that of -being situated beneath the crucifix, under which a small lamp was -burning, giving the only light which the cell possessed.</p> - -<p class="normal">The good prelate--for such he was--cast himself upon the moss, and -stretching forth his hands on his broad fat knees, employed no -inconsiderable space of time in cooling himself, and recovering his -breath, after the bodily fear and exertion he had undergone. The -hermit seated himself also; and waited, in grave silence, the -communication, whatever it was, that brought so respectable a -dignitary of the church as the bishop of Paris to his cell at so -unsuitable an hour.</p> - -<p class="normal">"The Lord be merciful unto me!" cried the bishop, after a long pause. -"What perils and dangers have I not run this very night, for the -service of the church, and the poor Christian souls of the French -people, who are now crying for the rites and ceremonies of the church, -as the tribes of Israel cried for flesh in the desert!"</p> - -<p class="normal">"But if report speaks right," replied the hermit, "thy flock has no -need to cry; as the interdict has not yet been enforced within thy -diocese, father bishop."</p> - -<p class="normal">"True! unhappily too true!" cried the prelate, imagining that the -hermit imputed blame to him for the delay. "But what could I do, -brother Bernard? God knows--praised be his name!--that I have the -most holy and devout fear of the authority of the blessed church of -Rome;--but how can I bear to tear the food of salvation from the -mouths of the poor hungry people?--Besides, when I did but mention it -to the king, he cried out, in his rude and furious way:--'By the -joyeuse of St. Charlemagne! bishop, take care what you do! As long as -you eat of the fat, and drink of the strong, you prelates of France -mind nothing; but let me hear no more of this interdict, or I will -smite you hip and thigh! I will drive you forth from your benefices! -I will deprive you of your feofs, and I will strip you of your -wealth!--and then you may get rosy wines and rich meats where you -can!"</p> - -<p class="normal">A sort of cynical smile gathered round the hermit's lip, as if in his -heart he thought Philip's estimate of the clergy of his day was not a -bad one: and indeed their scandalous luxury was but too fertile a -theme of censure to all the severer moralists of those times. He -contented himself, however, with demanding what the prelate intended -to do.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Nay, on that subject, I came to consult you, brother Bernard," -replied the bishop. "You have ever shown yourself a wise and prudent -man, since you came into this place, some seven years ago; and all you -have recommended has prospered.--Now, in truth, I know not what to do. -The king is furious. His love for this Agnes--(if God would but please -to take her to himself, what a blessing!)--is growing more and more. -He has already cast out half the bishops of France for enforcing the -interdict, and seized on the lands of many of the barons who have -permitted or encouraged it.--What can I do? If I enforce it, he will -cast me out too; and the people will be no better. If I do not enforce -it, I fall under the heavy censure of our holy father the pope!"</p> - -<p class="normal">"You know your duty, father bishop, far better than I can tell it to -you," replied the hermit, with what might almost be called a malicious -determination to give no assistance whatever to the poor prelate, who, -between his fears of Rome and his dread of losing his diocese, -laboured like a ship in a stormy sea. "Your duty must be done."</p> - -<p class="normal">"But hearken, brother Bernard," said the bishop. "You know John of -Arville, the canon of St. Berthe's--a keen, keen man, though he be so -quiet and calm, and one that knows every thing which passes in the -world, though he be so devout and strict in his religious exercises."</p> - -<p class="normal">"I know him well," said the hermit sternly, as if the qualities of the -worthy canon stood not high in his esteem.--"What of him?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"Why, you know that, now William of Albert is dead, this John is head -of the canons of St. Berthe," replied the bishop. "Now, you must know -still farther, that a few days ago, the young count d'Auvergne, with -his train, came to Paris, and was hospitably received by the canons of -St. Berthe, in whose church his father had been a great founder. As -the interdict is strictly kept in his own part of the country, the -Count could not confess himself there; but, wisely and religiously, -seeing that years might elapse before he could again receive the -comforts of the church if the interdict lasted, and not knowing what -might happen in the mean time--for life is frail, you know, brother -Bernard--he resolved to confess himself to John of Arville, the canon; -which he did. So, then, you see, John of Arville came away to me, and -told me that he had a great secret, which might heal all the wounds of -the state."</p> - -<p class="normal">"How!" exclaimed the hermit, starting up. "Did he betray the secrets -of confession?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"No, no! You mistake, brother Bernard," cried the bishop peevishly. -"No, no! He did not betray the secrets of confession; but, in his -conversations afterwards with the young count, he drew from him that -he loved this Agnes de Meranie, and that she had been promised to him -by her brother as he went to the Holy Land; and that her brother being -killed there, and her father knowing nothing of the promise, gave her -to the king Philip. But now, hearing that the marriage is not lawful, -he--her father, the duke of Istria--has charged this young Count -d'Auvergne, as a knight, and one who was her dead brother's dear -friend, secretly to command her, in his name, to quit the court of -France, and return to his protection: and the count has thereon staked -life and fortune, that if she will consent, he will find means to -bring her back to Istria, in despite of the whole world. This is what -he communicated to the reverend canon, not, as you say, in confession, -but in sundry conversations after confession."</p> - -<p class="normal">Bernard the hermit gave no thought to what, in our eyes, may appear a -strange commission for a parent like the duke of Istria to confide to -so young a man as the Count d'Auvergne. But in those days, we must -remember, such things were nothing strange; for knightly honour had as -yet been so rarely violated, that to doubt it for an instant, under -such a mark of confidence, would have then been considered as a proof -of a base and dishonourable heart. The hermit's mind, therefore, -turned alone to the conduct of the priest.</p> - -<p class="normal">"I understand," replied he, drawing his brows together, even more -sternly than he had heretofore done. "The reverend canon of St. -Berthe's claims kindred in an equal degree with the fox and the wolf. -He has taken care that the count's secrets, first communicated to him -in confession, should be afterwards repeated to him without such a -seal. Thinks he, I wonder, to juggle Heaven, as well as man, with the -letter instead of the spirit? And doubtless, now, he would gladly give -the Count d'Auvergne all easy access to persuade this unhappy girl to -return; so that he, the canon of St. Berthe's, may but save his -diocesan from the unwieldly burden of the interdict, at the expense of -a civil war between the powerful Count d'Auvergne and his liege lord -Philip. 'Tis a goodly scheme, good father bishop; but 'twill not -succeed. Agnes loves Philip--looks on him as her husband--refuses to -part from him--has the spirit of a hero in a woman's bosom, and may as -soon be moved by such futile plans, as the north star by the singing -of the nightingale."</p> - -<p class="normal">"See what it is to be a wise man!" said the bishop, unable to restrain -a little triumphant chuckle, at having got the hermit at fault.--"See -what it is to be a wise man, and not hear a simple story out! Besides, -good brother Bernard, you speak but uncharitably of the reverend canon -of St. Berthe's, who is a holy and religious man; though, like you -yourself, somewhat too proud of worldly wisdom--a-hem!"</p> - -<p class="normal">"A-hem!" echoed something near; at least, so it seemed to the quick -and timorous ears of the worthy prelate, who started up and listened. -"Did you not hear something, brother Bernard?" demanded he in a low -voice. "Did you not hear a noise? Cursed be it upon the earth! -and--God forgive me----"</p> - -<p class="normal">"I heard the roaring of the wind, and the creaking of the wood, but -nothing else," replied the hermit calmly, "But what wert thou about to -say, father bishop? If I have taken thee up wrongly, I am ready to -acknowledge my folly. All men are but as fools, and I not amongst the -least. If I have wronged the canon of St. Berthe's, I am ready to -acknowledge the fault. All men are sinners, and I not amongst the -least. But how have I been mistaken at present?</p> - -<p class="normal">"Why, altogether!" replied the prelate, after having re-assured -himself by listening several moments without hearing any farther -sound,--"altogether, brother Bernard, the canon of St. Berthe's aims -at nothing you have mentioned. No one knows better than he the queen's -mind as he is her confessor; and he sees well, that till the king -shows some sign of willingness to part with her, she will remain fixed -to him, as if she were part of himself: but he knows, too, that if -Philip does but evince the least coldness--the least slackening of the -bonds that bind him to her, she will think he wearies of his -constancy, or fears the consequences of his opposition to the holy -church; and will herself demand to quit him. His scheme therefore is, -to let the king grow jealous of the Count d'Auvergne to such a point, -as to show some chilliness to the queen. Agnes herself will think that -he repents of his opposition to our blessed father the pope, and will -propose to depart. Philip's jealousy will prevent him from saying nay; -and the reverend canon himself, as her confessor, will conduct her -with a sufficient escort to the court of Istria: where, please God! he -may be rewarded as he deserves, for the signal service he renders -France!"</p> - -<p class="normal">"Hoo! hoo! hoo!" cried a voice from without; which sounded through the -unglazed window, as if it was in the very hut.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Miserere mei, Domine, secundum multitudinem miserationem tuarum!" -exclaimed the bishop; the rosy hue of his cheek, which had returned, -in the security of the hermit's cell, to much the colour of the field -pimpernel, now fading away to the hue of the same flower in an ancient -herbal.</p> - -<p class="normal">"'Tis but an owl!--'tis but an owl!" cried the hermit; and, fixing his -eyes on the ground, he meditated deeply for several minutes, -regardless of the still unsubdued terror of the bishop, who, drawing a -chaplet from beneath his robe, filled up the pause with <i>paters</i> and -<i>aves</i>, strangely mixed with various ungodly curses from the -never-forgotten anathema, which in his fright, like prisoners in a -popular tumult, rushed forth against his will the moment fear unbarred -the door of his lips.</p> - -<p class="normal">"It is a cruel scheme!" said the hermit at length, "and the man who -framed it is a cruel man; who, for his own base ambition of gaining -bishoprics in Germany and credit at Rome, scruples not to tear asunder -the dearest ties of the heart;--but for you or me, father bishop," he -added, turning more immediately to the prelate, "for you and me, who -have no other interest in this thing, than the general welfare of our -country, to prevent civil war and general rebellion of the king's -vassals, which will inevitably ensue if the interdict lasts, -especially while he bears so hard a hand upon them,--for us, I say, it -is to consider whether by the sorrow inflicted in this instance, -infinite, infinite misery may not be spared through the whole nation. -If you come then, father bishop, to ask me my opinion, I think the -scheme which this canon of St. Berthe's proposed may be made use -of--as an evil indeed--but as the least, infinitely the least, of two -great ones. I think, then, that it may conscientiously be made use of; -but, at the same time, I think the worse of the man that framed -it--ay! and he knew I should think the worse of him.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Why, indeed, and in truth, I believe he did," answered the bishop, -who had somewhat recovered his composure by the non-repetition of the -sounds, "I believe he did, for he mightily opposed my consulting you on -the matter; saying that--though all the world knows, brother Bernard, -you are a wise man, and a holy one too; for, indeed, none but a holy -man dare inhabit such a wild place, amidst all sorts of evil -spirits--cursed be they above the earth and under the earth!--but -saying--as I was going to observe--that if I were seen coming here, -people would think I knew not how to govern my own diocese, but must -needs have your help. So I came here at night, God forgive me and -protect me! for, if ever the sin of pride and false shame was -punished, and repented of with fear and trembling, it has been this -night."</p> - -<p class="normal">So frank a confession changed the cynical smile that was gathering -round the anchorite's lips into one of a blander character. "Your -coming in the day, good father bishop," replied he, "would have -honoured me, without disgracing you. The world would but have said, -that the holy bishop of Paris visited the poor hermit of Vincennes, to -consult with him for the people's good.--But let us to the question. -If you will follow my counsel, good father, you will lay this scheme -before that honoured and noble knight and reverend bishop, Guerin; -for, believe me, it will be necessary to keep a careful guard over -Philip, and to watch him well, lest, his passions being raised to a -dangerous degree, it become necessary to tell him suddenly the whole -truth. I am absent from him; you are busied with the cares of your -flock; and the canon of St. Berthe's must not be trusted. But Guerin -is always near him; and, with your holy zeal and his prudent watching, -this scheme, though it may tear the heart of the king and of the fair -unfortunate girl, Agnes his wife, may also save bloodshed, rebellion, -and civil war, and raise the interdict from this ill-fated kingdom."</p> - -<p class="normal">A loud scream, like that of some ravenous bird, but prolonged so that -it seemed as if no mortal breath could have given it utterance, -thrilled through the air as the hermit spoke, and vibrated round and -round the hut. The bishop sank on his knees, and his little guide -pushed open the door and ran in. "I dare stay out there no longer!" -cried the boy: "there is something in the tree!--there is something in -the tree!"</p> - -<p class="normal">"Where?" cried the hermit, striding towards the door, his worn and -emaciated figure erecting itself, and seeming to swell out with -new-born energy. "Where is this sight? Were it the prince of evil -himself, I defy him!"--and with a firm step, he advanced into the -moonlight, between the threshold of the hut and the ancient tomb, -casting his eyes up into the shattered oak, whose remaining branches -stretched wide and strong over the path.</p> - -<p class="normal">To his surprise, however, he beheld seated on one of the large boughs, -in the attitude of an ape, a dark figure, like that of a man; who no -sooner cast his eyes on the hermit, than he began to pour forth more -strange and detestable sounds than ever were uttered by a human -tongue, moving backwards along the branches at the same time with -superhuman agility.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Avoid thee, Satan! In the name of Jesus thy conqueror! avoid thee!" -cried the hermit, holding up the crucifix attached to his rosary.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Ha, ha! oh rare! The interdict, the interdict!" shouted the vision -gliding along amongst the branches. "Oh rare! oh rare!" And then burst -forth a wild scream of unnatural laughter, which for a moment rang -round and round, as if echoed by a thousand voices; then died away -fainter and fainter, and at last was lost entirely; while the dark -figure, from which it seemed to proceed, disappeared amidst the gloom -of the thick boughs and leaves.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Rise, rise, father bishop!" cried the hermit, entering the hut. "The -fiend is gone; and verily his coming, where he has never dared to come -before, seemed to show that he is fearful of your design, and would -fain scare us from endeavouring to raise the interdict:--rise, good -father, I say, and be not frightened from your endeavour!" So saying, -the hermit stooped and aided his reverend visiter; whom at his return -he had found stretched flat on his face, at the foot of the cross, -before which the anchorite's lamp was burning.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Now, Jesu preserve us! this is very dreadful, brother Bernard!" cried -the poor bishop, his teeth chattering in his head. "How you can endure -it, and go on living here, exposed to such attacks, I know not; but I -do know that one week of such residence would wear all the flesh off -my bones."</p> - -<p class="normal">The hermit glanced his eye, with somewhat of a cold smile, from the -round, well-covered limbs of the prelate, to his own meagre and sinewy -form. He made not, however, the comment that sprang to his lips, but -simply replied, "I am not often subject to such visitations, and, as -you see, the enemy flies from me when I appear."</p> - -<p class="normal">"But, for all that," answered the bishop, "I tell thee, good brother -Bernard, I dare as much go home through that forest alone with this -urchin, as I dare jump off the tower of the Louvre!"</p> - -<p class="normal">"Fear not: I will go with thee," replied the anchorite. "The boy, too, -has a torch, I see. The night is now clear, and the wind somewhat gone -down, so that the way will be soon trodden."</p> - -<p class="normal">Company of any kind, under such circumstances, would have been -received as a blessing by the good bishop; but that of so holy a man -as the hermit was reputed to be, was doubly a security. Clinging to -him, therefore, somewhat closer than bespoke much valour, the prelate -suffered himself to be led out into the forest; while the boy, with -his torch now lighted again, accompanied them, a little indeed in -advance, but not sufficiently so as to prevent him also from holding -tight by the anchorite's frock.</p> - -<p class="normal">Thus, then, they proceeded through the winding paths of the wood, now -in light, and now in shade, till the dark roofs of the village near -Vincennes, sleeping quietly in the moonshine, met once more the -delighted eyes of the bishop of Paris. Here the anchorite bade God -speed him, and, turning his steps back again, took the way to his hut.</p> - -<p class="normal">Did we say that the hermit, Bernard, did not every now and then give a -glance to the wood on either side as he passed, or that he did not -hold his crucifix in his hand, and, from time to time, murmur a prayer -to Heaven or his guardian angel, we should say what was false; but -still he walked on with a firm step, and a far more erect carriage -than usual, prepared to encounter the enemy of mankind, should he -appear in bodily shape, with all the courage of a Christian and the -zeal of an enthusiast.</p> - -<p class="normal">When he had reached his hut, however, and fastened the door, he cast -himself on his knees before the cross, and, folding his arms devoutly -on his bosom, he exclaimed:--"O, blessed Saviour! pardon if J have -sinned in the counsel I have this night given. Let not weakness of -understanding be attributed to me for wickedness of heart; but, as -thou seest that my whole desire is to serve Thee, and do good unto my -fellow-christians, grant, O Lord! pardon and remittance unto the -faults of my judgment! Nevertheless, if my counsel be evil, and thou -hast permitted thy conquered enemy to show himself unto me visibly, as -a sign of thy wrath, let me beseech thee. Lord! to turn that counsel -aside that it have no effect, and that the sorrow of my brethren lay. -not heavy on my head!"</p> - -<p class="normal">To this extempore prayer the good hermit added one or two from the -regular ritual of the church; and then, casting himself on his bed of -moss, with a calmed mind, he fell into a profound sleep.</p> - -<p class="normal">In the mean while, day broke upon the glades of the forest; and at -about the distance of a mile from the dwelling of the hermit, dropped -down from one of the old oaks, with the first ray of the sun, no less -a person than our friend Gallon the fool.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Ha, ha!" cried he, "Ha, ha, haw! My lord ordered me to be shut out, -if I came not home by dusk; and now, by my shutting out, I have heard -a secret he would give his ears to hear.--Ha, haw! Ha, haw!--I've -ninety-nine minds not to tell him--but it wants the hundredth. So I -will tell him. Then he'll break their plot, or give news of it to the -king and the Auvergne;--and then, they'll all be hanged up like -acorns.--Haw, haw! and we shall keep the sweet interdict--the dear -interdict--the beloved interdict. I saw five dead men lying unburied -in the convent field.--Haw, haw, haw! Haw, haw! I love the -interdict--I do! 'Tis like my nose: it mars the face of the country, -which otherwise were a fair face.--Ha, haw! I love interdicts. My nose -is my interdict.--Haw, haw, haw! But I must find other means to spite -the De Coucy, for shutting me out! I spited him finely, by sending -down the old fool Julian into the glade, where he was cajoling his -daughter!--Haw, haw, haw! Ha, haw!" So saying, he bounded forward, and -ran as hard as he could towards the distant city.</p> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<h3>CHAPTER V.</h3> -<br> - -<p class="continue">Let us suppose a brief lapse of time and a slight change of scene. -'Twas the month of September; and though the mellow hand of autumn had -already spread a rich golden tinge over field and wood, yet not a -particle of summer's sparkling brilliancy seemed gone from the clear -blue sky. 'Twas in the bright land, too, of merry Touraine, where -migratory summer seems to linger longer than any where else; and, -though the sickle had done its work, and the brown plains told that -the year's prime was passed, yet there was a smile on the aspect of -the land, as if it would fain have promised that the sweet days of the -earth's life would be there immortal.</p> - -<p class="normal">Over one of the wide open fields of that country, swelling gently with -a soft undulating slope, and bordered, here and there, with low -scattered woods, were seen to ride a gay party of horsemen, but few in -number indeed, but with their arms glittering in the morning sun, -their plumes waving in the breeze, and, in short, with all "the pomp -and circumstance of war."</p> - -<p class="normal">In faith, it was as fair a sight to see as the world can give--a party -of the chivalry of that age. For them were all the richest habiliments -reserved by law. Robes of scarlet, ornaments of gold, fine furs, and -finer stuffs, were all theirs by right; and with their banners, and -pennons, and their polished armour, their embroidered coats of arms, -and their decorated horses, they formed a moving mass of animated -splendour, such as the present day cannot afford to show.</p> - -<p class="normal">The group we speak of at present wanted nothing that chivalry could -display. At its head rode a fair youth, just in man's opening day; his -eye sparkling, his cheek glowing, his lip smiling with the bursting -happiness of his heart, at finding himself freed from restraint. Lord -of himself, and entering on the brilliant career of arms, supported by -knights, by nobles, and by kings, to strive for--not the ordinary -stake of ordinary men--but for crowns, and thrones, and kingdoms.</p> - -<p class="normal">Arthur Plantagenet wore his helmet still; as if the new weight of -honourable armour was more a delight than a burthen to him; but the -visor being open, his face was clearly exposed, and spoke nothing but -hope and animation. His arms were all inlaid with gold, and over his -shoulders he wore the superb surcoat of arms, which had been worked -for him by the fair hands of Agnes de Meranie.</p> - -<p class="normal">On the prince's right-hand rode Guy de Coucy, with his head still -unarmed; and merely covered by a green velvet bonnet, with a jewel, -and a plume of the feathers of the white egret, which had been -bestowed upon him by the king on his joining the expedition at Paris. -Neither did he ride his battle-horse--which, as when we first saw him, -was led behind him by a squire--but was mounted on one of the Arabian -coursers which he had brought with him from the Holy Land. He had, -however, his tremendous long sword by his side, the tip descending to -his heel, and the hilt coming up nearly to his shoulder; and, though -at the bow of his war-saddle, on the other horse, hung his heavy -battle-axe and mace, a lighter axe swung by his side. His gauntlets -were on, his squires were close behind him; and by various other signs -of the same kind, it might be inferred that the road he was now -travelling was more likely to be hostilely interrupted, than that over -which he had passed in Auvergne.</p> - -<p class="normal">On Arthur's left-hand appeared in complete arms the famous warrior and -troubadour, whose songs and whose deeds have descended honourably even -to our days, Savary de Maulèon. As in the case of De Coucy, his casque -was borne behind him; but, in other respects, he was armed <i>cap à -pié</i>.</p> - -<p class="normal">Of this knight one thing must be remarked, which, though it might seem -strange, was no less true, and showed the madness of that age for -song. Between himself and the squires who bore his casque and led his -battle-horse, rode a tiny, beautiful boy, mounted on a small fleet -Limousin jennet, and habited with all the extravagant finery which -could be devised. In his hand, instead of shield, or lance, or -implement of bloody warfare, he bore a small sort of harp, exactly of -the shape of those with which the sculptors of that period have -represented King David, as well as sundry angels, in the rich -tympanums of many of the gothic church-doorways in France. This -instrument, however, was not fully displayed on the journey, being -covered with a <i>housse</i>, or veil of silver gauze, from which, such -coverings often being applied to shields of arms, any one passing by -might have mistaken it for some buckler of a new and strange form.</p> - -<p class="normal">Behind this first group, who were followed immediately by their -squires, came, at a little distance, a confused body of knights of -lesser fame; in general, vassals of Savary de Maulèon, or of his -friends; or others who, from disgust towards king John, had come over -to the increasing party of his nephew. These were all well armed and -equipped; and, though riding for the time in a scattered and irregular -manner, it wanted but a word from their chiefs, to bring them into -line, or hedge, as it was called, when, with their long lances, heavy -armed horses, and impenetrable persons, they would have offered a -formidable barrier against any attack.</p> - -<p class="normal">A group of servants of arms followed these knights; and behind these -again, with far more show of discipline, and covered with bright new -armour, came two hundred Brabançois, with their old captain, Jodelle, -at their head. Their horses were unarmed, except by an iron poitral, -to resist the blow of a lance or a sword on the first assault. The -riders also were but lightly harnessed, with cuirass, steel cap, -and buckler; but, being intended principally to act either as -horse-archers themselves, or against bodies of foot, they often proved -the most serviceable troops in the army.</p> - -<p class="normal">At the head of their line rode Hugo de Barre, bearing De Coucy's -banner; while, armed something like a Brabançois, but more heavily, -with the place of his favourite mare supplied by a strong black horse. -Gallon the fool rode along the ranks, keeping the greater part of the -soldiers in continual merriment. There were, it is true, some ten or -twelve of them who knit their brows from under their iron caps at the -jongleur as he passed; but the generality of the Brabançois laughed at -his jest, or gave it him back again; and, indeed, no one seemed more -amused or in better harmony with the mad juggler, than the captain -Jodelle himself.</p> - -<p class="normal">The whole party might consist of about five hundred men; and they -moved on slowly, as if not very certain whether they might not be near -some unseen enemy. The plain on which we have said they were, was -unbroken by any thing in the shape of a hedge, and sufficiently flat -to give a view over its whole surface; but, at the same time, the low -woods that bordered it here and there might have concealed many -thousand men, and the very evenness of the country prevented any view -of what was beyond.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Straight before you, beau sire!" said Savary de Maulèon, pointing -forward with his hand. "At the distance of three hours' march, lies -the famous city of Tours; and even now, if you look beyond that wood, -you will catch a faint glance of the church of the blessed St. Martin. -See you not a dark grey mass against the sky, squarer and more stiff -in form than any of the trees?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"I do, I do!--And is that Tours?" cried Arthur, each fresh object -awakening in his heart that unaccountable delight with which youth -thrills towards novelty--that dear brightness of the mind which, in -our young days, reflects all things presented to it with a thousand -splendid dazzling rays not their own; but, alas! which too soon gets -dimmed and dull, in the vile chafing and rubbing of the world. "Is -that Tours?" and his fancy instantly conjured up, and combined with -the image of the distant city, a bright whirl of vague and pleasant -expectations which, like a child's top, kept dizzily spinning before -his eyes, based on an invisible point, and ready to fall on a touch.</p> - -<p class="normal">"That is Tours, beau sire," replied the knight; "and I doubt not that -there, what with all my fair countrymen of Anjou and Poitou, who have -already promised their presence, and others who may have come without -their promise, you will find knights enough for you to undertake at -once some bold enterprise."</p> - -<p class="normal">Arthur looked to De Coucy, under whose tutelage, as a warrior, Philip -Augustus had in some degree placed the inexperienced prince. "Far be -it from me," said the knight, "to oppose any bold measure that has the -probability of success along with it; but, as a general principle, I -think that in a war which is likely to be of long duration, when we -expect the speedy arrival of strong reinforcements, and where nothing -is to be lost by some delay, it is wise to pause, so as to strike the -first strokes with certainty of success; especially where the prince's -person may be put in danger by any rash attempt."</p> - -<p class="normal">"By the blessed St. Martin!" cried Savary de Maulèon, "I thought not -to hear the Sire de Coucy recommend timid delay. Fame has, as usual, -belied him, when she spoke of his courage as somewhat rash."</p> - -<p class="normal">De Coucy had, indeed, spoken rather in opposition to the general -character of his own mind; but he felt that there was a degree of -responsibility attached to his situation, which required the greatest -caution, to guard against the natural daring of his disposition. He -maintained, therefore, the same coolness in reply to the Poitevin -knight, although it cost him some effort to repress the same spirit -manifesting itself in his language which glowed warm on his brow.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Sir Guillaume Savary de Maulèon," replied he, "in the present -instance, my counsel to prince Arthur shall be to attempt nothing, -till he has such forces as shall render those first attempts certain; -and, as to myself, I can but say, that when you and I are in the -battle-field, my banner shall go as far, at least, as yours into the -midst of the enemies."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Not a step farther!" said Savary de Maulèon quickly--"not a step -farther!"</p> - -<p class="normal">"That shall be as God pleases," answered De Coucy; "but, in the mean -time, we are disputing about wind. Till we reach Tours, we cannot at -all tell what assistance may wait us there. If there be sufficient -force to justify us in proceeding to action, I will by no means -dissent; but, if there be but few of our friends arrived, I will say, -that man who advises the prince to attempt any thing yet, may be as -brave as a lion, but seeks to serve his own vanity more than Arthur -Plantagenet."</p> - -<p class="normal">"How his own vanity, sir?" demanded Savary de Maulèon, ready to take -offence on the slightest provocation.</p> - -<p class="normal">"By risking his prince's fortunes," replied De Coucy, "rather than let -others have a share in the harvest of glory before him. Ho, there!" he -continued, turning to one of his squires, who instantly rode up.--"Bid -Jodelle detach a score of his lightest men round the eastern limb of -that wood, and bring me word what 'tis that glittered but now above -the trees.--Go yourself too, and use your eyes."</p> - -<p class="normal">The man obeyed, with the promptitude of one accustomed to serve a -quick and imperative lord; and the little manœuvre the knight had -commanded was performed with all the precision he could desire. In the -mean while he resumed the conversation with Arthur and Savary de -Maulèon, who--cooled by the momentary pause, and also somewhat soothed -by something flattering, he scarce knew what, in the idea of the sort -of avarice of glory De Coucy had attributed to him--replied to the -young knight with more cordiality than he had at first evinced. In a -very few minutes, the horsemen, who had been detached, returned at -full gallop. Their report was somewhat startling. A large body of -horse, they said, whose spear-heads De Coucy had seen above the low -trees, were skirting slowly round the wood towards them. Full a -hundred knights, with barbed horses and party pennons, had been seen. -There appeared more behind; and the whole body, with the squires, -archers, and servants of arms, might amount to fifteen hundred. No -banner, however, was displayed; but one of the Brabançois declared, -that he knew the foremost to be king John's Norman knights, by the -fashion of their hauberts, and the pikes on their horses' heads.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Give me my lance and casque!" cried De Coucy.--"Sir Savary de -Maulèon, I leave the prince under your care, while I, with my -Brabançois and followers, give these gentry the meeting at the corner -of the wood. You would not be mad enough in this business to risk the -prince with four hundred men and forty knights, against one hundred -knights and fifteen hundred men!"</p> - -<p class="normal">"Surely not," replied Savary de Maulèon; "but still I will go with you -myself, beau sire."</p> - -<p class="normal">"No! as you are a knight," cried De Coucy, grasping his hand, "I -charge you, stay with the prince, cover his march to Tours; keep all -the knights with you, for you will want them all. You start fair with -the enemy--the distance is about equal to the city; and I promise you, -that if they pass yon turn of the wood within this quarter of an hour, -'tis over my dead body--let it be so, sir knight, in God's name! The -honour will rest with him who gets the prince safe to Tours. Is not -that enough? You have the post of honour."</p> - -<p class="normal">"And you the post of danger," said Savary de Mauléon, shaking his -head.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Mind not you that!" cried De Coucy, whose casque was by this time -fixed. "If these be Normans, there will be danger and honour enough -too, before you reach Tours!" and grasping his lance, he fell back to -the band of Brabançois, put himself at their head, and galloped at -full speed to the turning of the wood.</p> - -<p class="normal">Before coming in sight of the enemy, however, De Coucy paused, and -advancing so far alone as to gain a sight of them, he perceived that -their numbers, though they had been somewhat exaggerated, were still -too great to admit the chance of fighting them with any hope of -success. His object, therefore, was to delay them on their march as -long as he could; and then to retreat fighting, so as to cover the -prince's march upon Tours. Accordingly he commanded the cotereaux to -spread out in such a manner that the iron of their spears might just -be seen protruding from the wood, and by patting his horse's neck, and -touching him with the spur, he made him utter one or two loud neighs, -for the purpose of calling the attention of the enemy, which the sound -of their galloping thither did not seem to have done.</p> - -<p class="normal">The stratagem had its effect: the whole body of horse, who were -approaching, halted; and after a few minutes' consultation, a -reconnoitring party was thrown out, who approached in front of De -Coucys party, and fell back again instantly on their main body. -"Ground your spears!" cried De Coucy; "unsling your bows; have each -man his arrow on the string, and the string to his ear; and give them -such a flight as shall dizzy them whenever they come near."</p> - -<p class="normal">The Brabançois obeyed: each man rested his spear,--which, by the way, -was distinguished in many respects from the knight's lance,--threw his -bridle over his arm, and drew his bowstring to his ear; while De Coucy -advanced a few paces, to observe the motions of the enemy. To his -surprise, however, he observed half a dozen knights ride out, while -the rest stood still; and in a moment after, displaying the banner of -Hugues de Lusignan, they advanced at full speed, crying loudly, "Artus -Anjou! Artus Anjou!"--the rallying cry which the knights of Anjou -attached to the party of Arthur had adopted.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Hold! hold!" cried De Coucy, waving his hand to his archers. "Here -must be some mistake. These are friends." So, indeed, it proved; and on -a nearer approach, De Coucy found that the body of troops which had -caused the alarm, had in truth come forth from Tours, for the -protection of Arthur, whom they had long known to be approaching with -but a small force; while king John, with a considerable army, was -reported to be ravaging the county of Maine. The cause of the mistake -also was now explained. Some knights of Normandy, either moved by the -justice of Arthur's claims, or disgusted with the weak levity and -cowardly baseness of John, had crossed the country; and joining the -troops of Hugues le Brun, and Godefroy de Lusignan, under the command -of Ruoal d'Issoudun, Count d'Eu, had come out to give the sovereign -they had determined to acknowledge welcome and protection.</p> - -<p class="normal">These communications were much sooner made than they are written; and -De Coucy, whose banner had been seen and recognised by the -reconnoitring party, was received by the assembled knights with no -small marks of honour and esteem. His troops had of course now to make -a retrograde motion, but no great haste was necessary to overtake the -body he had before left; for Savary de Mauléon had taken such good -care that his retreat should not appear like a flight, that the -messenger to De Coucy despatched to inform him of the change of aspect -which affairs had undergone, reached the small body of knights who had -remained with Arthur before they had proceeded half a mile.</p> - -<p class="normal">The meeting of the two bands was a joyous one on both sides, and -nothing was now talked of amongst the knights of Anjou and Poitou but -proceeding instantly to active and energetic operations against the -enemy. De Coucy was silent, well knowing that a council must be held -on the subject after their arrival at Tours; and reserving his opinion -for that occasion, though he well saw that his single voice would be -drowned amidst the many, which were all eager to urge a course that, -under any other circumstances, he would have been the first to follow, -but which, where the stake was a kingdom, and the hazard great, he did -not feel himself justified in approving.</p> - -<p class="normal">While things were thus proceeding, in front of the army, the -Brabançois, who now occupied a much less important station than when -they formed, as it were, the main body of the prince's force, followed -at some little distance in the rear. A few steps in advance of this -troop rode Jodelle, particularly affecting to have no private -communication with his men; but, on the contrary, sometimes riding up -to Hugo de Barre, who bore De Coucys standard on the right, and with -whom he had become a great favourite; and sometimes jesting with -Gallon the fool, whose regard he strove not a little to cultivate, -though it was not less difficult to ascertain exactly which way the -cracked juggler's esteem turned, than it was to win his affection at -all, which was no easy task.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Ha, ha! sire Jodelle!" cried Gallon, coming close to him, as they -began to move forward towards Tours--"Haw, haw! A goodly body of -prisoners our lord has taken to-day!" and he pointed to the band of -knights which had so lately joined their own. "And yet," added Gallon, -bringing his two eyes to bear with a sly leer upon Jodelle's face, -"our lord does not often make prisoners. He contents himself with -dashing his foemen's brains out with his battle-axe, as he did in -Auvergne."</p> - -<p class="normal">Jodelle grasped his sword, and muttered something to himself. Gallon's -eyes, however, were like the orbs in an orrery, for an instant close -together, and then, by some unapparent machinery, thrown far apart; -and before Jodelle could determine what their first expression meant, -they were straggling out again on each side of the head in which they -were placed, and the shrewd meaning leer was changed at once into the -most broad senseless vacancy.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Oh! it would have done your heart good, sire Jodelle," continued -the jongleur, "to see how he hewed their noddles.--Haw, haw! Oh, -rare!--But, as I was saying," continued he, in his flighty, rambling -way, "yours must be a merry trade, and a thriving."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Ours is no trade, maître Gallon," replied Jodelle, speaking calmly, -to conceal no very amicable sensations which he felt towards the -jongleur--"ours is no trade; 'tis a profession,--the noble profession -of arms."</p> - -<p class="normal">"No trade!" exclaimed Gallon.--"Haw, haw! Haw, haw! If you make no -trade of it, with such merchandise as you have, you are not fit to -hold a sow by the ear, or soap a cat's tail. Why! Do you not buy and -sell?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"Buy and sell!" said Jodelle, pondering. "Faith! I am heavy this -morning. What should I buy or sell, either?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"Lord now! Lord now!" cried Gallon, holding up both his hands. "To -think that there is another man in all the world so stupid as my -master and myself!--What should you buy and sell? Why, what better -merchandise would you desire to sell to King John," he added, making -his horse sidle up against the chief of the Brabançois, so that he -could speak without being overheard by any one else,--"what better -merchandise would you desire to sell to king John, than that fat flock -of sheep before you, with the young ram, and his golden fleece, at the -head of them;--and what would you desire better to buy, than white -English silver, and yellow English gold?"</p> - -<p class="normal">Jodelle looked in his face, to see if he could gather any thing from -that; but all was one flat, dead blank; even his very nose was still -and meaningless--one might as well have expected such words of -devilish cunning from a stone wall.</p> - -<p class="normal">"But my oath--my honour!" cried Jodelle, gazing on him still.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Your oath!--Haw, haw!" shouted Gallon, convulsed with -laughter,--"your honour!--Haw, haw! haw, haw! haw, haw!" And rolling -about, as if he would have fallen from his horse, he galloped on, -shouting, and roaring, and laughing, and screaming, till there was not -a man in the array who did not turn his head to look at the strange -being who dared to interrupt with such obstreperous merriment their -leader's conversation.</p> - -<p class="normal">De Coucy well knew the sounds, and turned to chide; but Arthur, who -had been before amused with Gallon's humour, called him to approach -for the purpose of jesting with him, with that boyish susceptibility -of absurdities which characterised the age.</p> - -<p class="normal">Gallon was as much at his ease amongst princes and barons as amongst -peasants and serving men; and, seeming to forget all that he had just -been speaking of, he dashed off into some new strain of eccentricity -better suited to his auditors.</p> - -<p class="normal">Jodelle, who, trembling for the result, had so far forgot himself as -to ride on to listen, now rendered secure by the juggler's flighty -change of topic, dropped back into the rear, and the whole cavalcade -moved gently on to Tours.</p> - -<p class="normal">While preparing for the prince's banquet in the evening, the place at -De Coucy's elbow was filled by Gallon the fool, who somewhat in a more -sane and placable humour than usual, amused his lord with various -tales and anecdotes, neither so disjointed nor so disfigured as his -relations usually were. The last, however, which he thought fit to -tell--what he had overheard through the unglazed window of the -hermit's cell on the night before the party of Arthur quitted Paris, -caused De Coucy instantly to write a few words to the Count -d'Auvergne, and putting it in the hands of his page, he bade him ride -for his life, and deliver the letter wherever he should find the -count, were it even in the presence of the king himself. The fatigued -state of the horses prevented the lad from setting out that night, but -by daylight next morning he was in the saddle, and away upon a journey -which we may have cause to trace more particularly hereafter.</p> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<h3>CHAPTER VI.</h3> -<br> - -<p class="continue">After a long consultation with De Coucy, the morning following their -arrival at Tours, Arthur Plantagenet proceeded to hold his first -regular council of war. Endowed with a thousand graces of person and -of mind, Arthur had still that youthful indecision of character, that -facility of yielding, which leads the lad so often to do what the man -afterwards bitterly repents of.</p> - -<p class="normal">Arthur entered the council room of the bishop's palace at Tours, fully -determined to adhere to the more prudent plan of waiting for the large -reinforcements he expected. He took his seat with the proud dignity of -a Plantagenet: and though his youthful countenance was in feature and -in complexion almost feminine, and his brows were only ornamented with -the ducal coronet of Brittany, still, in port and expression, he was -every inch a king. There was a dead silence amongst the knights for a -moment or two after he had entered, while Arthur spoke a few words to -the bishop of Tours, who stood on the right hand of the large throne -or chair, in which he was seated. The prince then turned towards the -council; and, with somewhat of a heightened colour, but with a clear -tone and unembarrassed manner, he spoke.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Illustrious lords," he said, "whose valour and wisdom have gained -Poitou and Anjou a name with the whole world; as your inferior, both -in age and reason, in warlike experience and in prudent sagacity, I -come to you for advice and counsel, how to carry forward the great -enterprise I have undertaken. We are here, not much above an hundred -knights; and our whole forces do not amount to two thousand men; while -John, my usurping uncle, is within a few days' march, with ten times -our number of men, and full two thousand valiant and renowned knights. -To balance this disparity, however, king Philip, my noble and -bountiful godfather in arms, has given me, for my auxiliaries and -allies, Hervey de Donzy, Count de Nevers, surnamed the Blunt, the -valiant Hugues de Dampierre, with all the knights of Berri, and Imbert -Baron de Beaujeur, with many a noble baron from the other side of the -Loire. These knights arrive to-day at Orleans, and in three days will -be here. At the same time, my duchy of Brittany, so faithful to me in -all times, sends me five hundred valiant knights, and four thousand -men at arms, who to-morrow at the latest will be at Nantes. It seems -to me, therefore, the wisest plan we can pursue--if you, whose wisdom -and experience are greater than mine, do not think otherwise--to -remain here at least four days. Often, a short delay produces the -greatest benefit; and a wise man of antiquity has said, that it is not -the evils which happen that we should struggle to avoid, but those -that may happen. Let us also remember, that--though, Heaven knows! no -one, or old or young, shall in open warfare more expose their person -than I will do; or less cares for life than I do, if it be not life -with honour;--but still let us remember, that it is my person alone my -uncle seeks, because I demand my kingdom, and the freedom of my -imprisoned sister.<a name="div4Ref_20" href="#div4_20"><sup>[20]</sup></a> You all know his cruelty, and I call Heaven to -witness, that I would rather now each man here should sheathe his -dagger in my body, than suffer me to fall into the hands of my bloody -and unnatural relation.</p> - -<p class="normal">"By letters received last night from the good king Philip I am informed -that John has just seized upon the citadel of Dol, the garrison of -which he has put to death after their surrender, the soldiers by the -sword, the knights he has crucified. The king also assures me, that -the usurper is marching hitherward, with all haste; and farther -counsels me, to conduct myself with prudence rather than rashness; and -to wait the arrival of the reinforcements, which will give me a -disposable force of fifteen hundred knights and thirty thousand men."</p> - -<p class="normal">Arthur paused; and Savary de Maulèon instantly replied:--"Let not the -counsels of any one alarm you, beau sire. To cowards be delay; to men -of courage, action. John is marching towards us. Let him come; we -shall be glad to see him for once show a spark of valour. No, no, beau -sire, he will not come. Does he not always fly from the face of arms? -He is a coward himself, and the spirit of the prince spreads always -through the army. For us, be quick and decided action; and, before -this weak and treacherous usurper shall know, even, that we are in the -field, let us strike some blow, that shall carry panic to his fearful -heart. His bad and wicked mother, Eleanor of Aquitaine, is even now -shut up in the town and castle of Mirebeau. The garrison is not large, -though commanded by William Longsword, earl of Salisbury. Let us -hasten thither instantly, besiege the castle; and, before John shall -have notice of our movements, his mother, the instigator and abettor -of one half his wickedness, shall be in our power. Or even say that -the castle holds out, our reinforcements may join us there, as well as -here, and then success is certain."</p> - -<p class="normal">The multitude of voices that applauded this proposal drowned all -opposition; and though De Coucy pressed but for the delay of a day, to -wait the arrival of his own forces, levied in the king's name on the -lands of the Count de Tankerville, and which alone would have doubled -their present numbers, both of knights and of servants of arms, his -proposition was negatived. Arthur yielded to the current; and, -catching the ardour of the Poitevins, his eyes sparkled at the idea of -surprising Mirebeau, and holding captive that bad queen, who had been -the incessant persecutor of his mother, and had acted but the part of -a step-dame, even to her own son, his father.</p> - -<p class="normal">De Coucy saw that farther opposition was vain, and bent the whole -energies of his mind to ensure success, even to the scheme he had -disapproved.</p> - -<p class="normal">The knights and barons of Poitou had reasonably enough wondered to see -a young warrior, whose greatest fame had been gained by the very -rashness of his courage, become the counsellor of caution and delay; -but De Coucy was rash only of his own person, holding that a knight -ought never even to consider his own individual life, or that of his -followers; but should give the whole thought and prudence which he -abstracted from himself, to carry forward successfully the object of -his undertaking.</p> - -<p class="normal">He never once dreamed of personal danger; nor could he conceive the -idea of any man bestowing a thought upon the hazard to which any -enterprise exposed him: and thus, in contemplating an approaching -struggle, the whole powers of his mind were bent upon conquering his -enemies, and his care for himself was only as a means to that effect.</p> - -<p class="normal">If the wonder of the knights of Poitou had been excited by De Coucy's -former slowness in counselling enterprise, it was far, far more so to -behold his activity and energy now that action had really commenced.</p> - -<p class="normal">He became suddenly, as it were, the soul and spirit of their -enterprise: his eye was every where; his quick and capable mind seemed -continually acting on every side around them. Whatever tidings was -demanded of any part of their disjointed force, it was Sir Guy de -Coucy knew!--whatever information was required concerning the country -before them, De Coucy had already made himself master of it!--whatever -movement was to be made by any body of the troops, De Coucy saw it -done!--whatever provision was to be brought in for the supply of the -army, De Coucy assured himself that it was executed, as far as the -brief time permitted. He had recommended delay; but as action had been -decided upon, he put forth the whole energetic activity of his soul to -render action effective.</p> - -<p class="normal">Understanding thoroughly the character and application of all the -various classes of troops made use of in that day, De Coucy took care -that his Brabançois should be turned to that service for which they -were best calculated. As reconnoitring parties they were invaluable; -and, as the army advanced upon Mirebeau, by spreading them over the -face of the country, he gained information of every thing that was -passing around.</p> - -<p class="normal">Two messengers from Eleanor of Aquitaine to her son were thus -intercepted; and it was discovered from the letters they bare, that -she had already obtained knowledge of Arthur's movements, and -beseeched John to hasten to her relief; telling him, that though the -castle she held might be looked upon as nearly impregnable, yet the -suddenness of attack had prevented her from providing for the -garrison, sufficiently at least, for any long siege.</p> - -<p class="normal">Such news was not lost on De Coucy; and, employing his Brabançois as -marauders, in which point of duty they certainly did not fail, he -swept the whole country round about of every sort of provisions, both -to distress the enemy, and to supply his own troops. This service -became one of danger as they approached nearer to the town, the -parties of William Longsword being also scattered about on the same -errand; and the whole of the morning before their arrival was spent in -fierce and continual skirmishes,--now for a drove of bullocks,--now -for a cart of wine,--now for a load of wheat.</p> - -<p class="normal">At length, all the parties of Normans and English were driven within -the gates of the town; and the army of Arthur, sitting down before it, -invested it on all sides.</p> - -<p class="normal">We must remember, however, that what were called towns in those days -might consider it a high honour to be compared even to a small English -borough of the present times; so that it was no impossible thing for -an army of two thousand men to invest even a town and castle.</p> - -<p class="normal">A council of war was instantly held, and De Coucy's voice was no -longer for delay. Immediate attack of the town was his advice; and -though many observed that only four hours of daylight remained, he -still pressed his object, declaring that, if well seconded, he would -place his standard in the market-place before dark. Those who had -before reproached him with procrastination dared not oppose him now, -and orders were instantly issued for the attack of the walls.</p> - -<p class="normal">The whole space occupied by the houses of Mirebeau was encompassed by -a strong curtain of rough stone, flanked with tall round towers, at -the distance of an arrow's flight from each other; so that every part -of the wall, though unguarded by a ditch, could be defended, not only -from its own projecting battlements, but by the cross fire of missiles -from the towers. Both men and munition of war seemed plenty within; -for, on the first symptoms of a general attack, the walls became -thronged with slingers and bowmen; and numbers of labourers might be -seen lighting fires for boiling oil or water, or carrying up baskets -of heavy stones, logs of wood, and quantities of quick-lime, to cast -down upon the assailants' heads, and crush them, or blind them, if the -flights of arrows proved insufficient to keep them from the gates or -the foot of the wall.</p> - -<p class="normal">The defenders of the battlements, indeed, appeared to be principally -burghers, mingled with a small proportion of soldiers from the castle; -but, although the military citizen was but little esteemed in that -day, there was a degree of bustle and promptitude about those who -manned the wall of Mirebeau, which, at all events, indicated zeal in -its defence.</p> - -<p class="normal">The preparations on the part of the besiegers were not less active; -and Arthur did all that an inexperienced youth could do, to give unity -and consistence to the efforts of his undisciplined and insubordinate -forces. It must not, however, be thought that we would say the knights -who accompanied him were less regular and obedient than others of -their times and class. Far from it. But it must be remembered, that -discipline was almost unknown amongst the armies of chivalry, and that -the feudal system was felt as much, or more, in times of war, than in -times of peace. Each baron commanded the knights and men-at-arms he -brought into the field. It is true, he received himself commands from -the sovereign, or the person who represented him for the moment; but -whether he obeyed those commands or not, depended upon a thousand -circumstances; as, whether the monarch was himself respected,--whether -the orders he gave were to be executed beneath his own eye; and, -lastly, whether they suited the taste, or coincided with the opinion, -of the person who received them.</p> - -<p class="normal">In the case of Arthur, every one who followed him thought they had a -right not only to counsel, but to act; and the prince himself, afraid -of opposing them, lest they should fall from him before the arrival of -the reinforcements placed by Philip more absolutely under his command, -could only retain the external appearance of authority, by sanctioning -what they themselves proposed.</p> - -<p class="normal">The tumultuary council held upon the occasion passed in rapid -interjections to somewhat of the following tenor. "Let us divide into -three bodies!--Each leader attack a gate. Hugues le Brun, I join -myself to you.--We will to the southern door.--I attack that -postern.--Sire de Maulèon, where do you attack?--I undertake the great -gate; that is, if the beau sire Arthur so commands."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Certainly, beau sire! I think it will be advisable; but, at all -events, let the various attacks be simultaneous," replied the prince: -"let some signal be given when all are ready."</p> - -<p class="normal">"True, true! Well bethought, beau sire! You are an older warrior than -any of us.--Sire de Coucy, where do you attack? I see your men are -busy about mantlets and pavisses."</p> - -<p class="normal">"I attack that tower," replied De Coucy, pointing to one that, though -tall and strong, seemed somewhat more ancient than the wall.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Ha! you would add another tower to those in your chief," said Savary -de Maulèon, "but you will fail. We have no ladders. Better come with -me to the gate. Well, as you will.--Sire Geoffroy de Lusignan, speed -round with your force, and shoot up a lighted arrow when you are -ready.--Where do you bestow yourself, beau sire Arthur?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"If the prince will follow my counsel," said Hugues le Brun, "he will -hover round with the men-at-arms which were given him by the king, and -bestow his aid wherever he sees it wanted."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Or keep on that high ground," said Geoffroy de Lusignan, "and send -your commands to us, according as you see the action turn."</p> - -<p class="normal">Arthur bowed his head; and all the knights rode off towards the -different points they had chosen for their attack, except de Coucy, -the tower he had marked being exactly opposite the spot where they had -held their council, if such it could be called.</p> - -<p class="normal">"They would fain prevent my fighting," said Arthur, turning to De -Coucy, and speaking still in a low voice, as if fearful of some one -hearing who might oppose his purpose; "but they will be mistaken. Sire -de Coucy, I pray you, as good knight and true, let me fight under your -honourable banner."</p> - -<p class="normal">"To your heart's content, my prince," replied the knight, "By Heaven! -I would not keep you from the noble game before us, for very shame -sake!--Hugo de Barre, put foot to the ground, with all my squires, and -advance the mantlets.--Have you the pickaxes and the piles all ready?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"All is ready, beau sire," replied the squire; "store of axes and of -iron bars."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Advance then!" cried the knight, springing to the ground. "Captain -Jodelle, dismount your men, and cover us under your arrows as we -advance."</p> - -<p class="normal">"But the signal has not been given from the other side," said Arthur. -"Had you not better wait, sir Guy?</p> - -<p class="normal">"We have more to do than they have," replied the knight; "and, besides, -they have left us, and we beginning the attack, the Normans will think -ours a false one, and will not repel us so vigorously, more especially -as we direct our efforts against a tower instead of a gate; but they -are deceived. I see a crevice there in the very base of the wall, that -will aid us shrewdly.--Stay here, beau sire, till I return, and then -we will in together."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Oh! sire de Coucy," cried the noble youth, "you are going to fight -without me.--Do not! do not deceive me, I pray you!"</p> - -<p class="normal">"On my honour, gallant prince," said De Coucy, grasping his hand, "I -will not strike a stroke, except against stone walls, till you strike -beside me;" and he advanced to the spot where Hugo de Barre, and three -other of his men, held up an immense heavy screen of wood-work, just -within bow-shot of the walls. Four more of the knight's men stood -underneath this massy defence, holding all sorts of instruments for -mining the wall, as well as several strong piles of wood, and bundles -of fagots. As soon as De Coucy joined them, the whole began to move -on; and Jodelle's Brabançois, advancing at a quick pace, discharged a -flight of arrows at the battlements of the tower, which apparently, by -the bustle it occasioned, was not without some effect. An instant -answer of the same kind was given from the walls, and missiles of all -kinds fell like a thick shower of hail.</p> - -<p class="normal">In the mean while Arthur stood on the mound, with some ten or fifteen -men-at-arms, who had been placed near him as a sort of body-guard by -Philip. From thence he could behold several points destined to be -attacked, and see the preparations of more than one of the leaders for -forcing the gates opposite to which they had stationed themselves. But -his chief attention still turned towards De Coucy, who was seen -advancing rapidly under the immense mantlet of wood he had caused to -be constructed, on which the arrows, the bolts, and the stones from -the slings fell in vain. On, on, it bore to the very foot of the -tower; but then came, on the part of the besiegers, the more -tremendous sort of defence of hurling down large stones and trunks of -trees upon it; so that, more than once, the four strong men by whom it -was supported tottered under the weight, and Hugo de Barre himself -fell upon his knee.</p> - -<p class="normal">This last accident, however, proved beneficial; for the inclined -position thus given to the mantlet caused the immense masses that had -been cast down upon it to roll off; and the squire rose from his knee -with a lightened burden. In the mean time Jodelle and his companions -did good and soldierlike service. It was almost in vain that the -defenders of the tower shouted for fresh implements to crush the -besiegers. Not a man could show himself for an instant on the walls, -but an arrow from the bows of the Brabançois struck him down, or -rattled against his armour; and thus the supply of fresh materials was -slow and interrupted. In the mean while De Coucy and his squires -laboured without remission at the foundation of the tower. A large -crack, with which the sure sapping hand of Time had begun to undermine -the wall, greatly facilitated their purpose; and, at every well-aimed -and steady blow which De Coucy directed with his pickaxe at the joints -of the mortar, some large mass of masonry rolled out, and left a -widening breach in the very base of the tower.</p> - -<p class="normal">At this moment the signal for the general assault was given, from the -other side of the town, by an arrow tipped with lighted tow being shot -straight up into the air; and in a moment the whole plain rang with -the shouts and cries of the attack and defence.</p> - -<p class="normal">Arthur could not resist the desire to ride round for a moment, and see -the progress of the besiegers in other points; and animated with the -sight of the growing strife, the clanging of the trumpets, and the -war-cries of the combatants, his very heart burned to join his hand in -the fray, and win at least some part of the honour of the day. De -Coucy, however, was his only hope in this respect; and galloping back -as fast as he could, after having gazed for a moment at the progress -of each of the other parties, he approached so near the point where -the knight was carrying on his operations, that the arrows from the -wall began to ring against his armour. Arthur's heart beat joyfully at -the very feeling that he was in the battle; but a sight now attracted -his attention, which engrossed all his hopes and fears, in anxiety for -the noble knight who was there labouring in his behalf.</p> - -<p class="normal">The masses of wall which De Coucy and his followers had detached, had -left so large a gap in the solid foundation of the tower, that it -became necessary to support it with the large piles of wood, to -prevent the whole structure from crushing them beneath its fall, while -they pursued their labours. This had just been done, and De Coucy was -still clearing away more of the wall, when suddenly a knight, who -seemed to have been informed of what was passing, appeared on the -battlements of the tower, followed by a number of stout yeomen, -pushing along an immense instrument of wood, somewhat like one of the -cranes used in loading and unloading vessels. From a high lever above, -hung down the whole trunk of a large tree, tipped at the end with -iron; this was brought immediately over the spot where De Coucy's -mantlet concealed himself and his followers from the lesser weapons of -the besieged, and, at a sign from the knight, the lever slowly raised -the immense engine in the air.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Have a care!--have a care! Sire de Coucy!" shouted at once the whole -troop of Brabançois, as well as Arthur's men-at-arms. But before their -cry could well reach the knight, or be understood, the lever was -suddenly loosed, and the ponderous mass of wood fell with its iron-shod -point upon the mantlet, dashing it to pieces. Hugo de Barre was -struck down, with four of the other squires; but De Coucy himself, who -was actually in the mine he had dug, with three more of his followers, -who were close to the wall, remained untouched. Hugo, however, -instantly sprang upon his feet again, but little injured, and three of -his companions followed his example; the fourth remained upon the -field for ever.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Back, Hugo!--Back to the prince, all of you!" cried De Coucy.--"Give -me the light, and back!"</p> - -<p class="normal">The squires obeyed; and, having placed in the knight's hand a resin -torch which was by this time nearly burnt out, they retreated towards -the Brabançois, under a shower of arrows from the walls, which, sped -from a good English bow, in more than one instance pierced the lighter -armour of De Coucy's squires, and left marks that remained till death. -In the mean while, not a point of De Coucy's armour, as he moved to -and fro at the foot of the tower, that was not the mark of an arrow or -a quarrel; while the English knight above, animated his men to every -exertion, to prevent him from completing what he had begun.</p> - -<p class="normal">"A thousand crowns to him who strikes him down!" cried he.--"Villains! -cast the stones upon him! On your lives, let him not fire those -fagots, or the tower and the town is lost.--Give me an arblast;" and -as he spoke, the knight snatched a cross-bow from one of the yeomen, -dressed the quarrel in it, and aimed steadily at the bars of De -Coucy's helmet as he bore forward another bundle of fagots and jammed -it into the mine.</p> - -<p class="normal">The missile struck against one of the bars, and bounded off. "Well -aimed, William of Salisbury!" cried De Coucy, looking up. "For ancient -love, my old companion in arms, I tell thee to get back from the -tower, for within three minutes it is down!" And so saying, he applied -his torch to various parts of the pile of wood he had heaped up in the -breach, and retired slowly towards prince Arthur, with the arrows -rattling upon his armour like a heavy shower of hail upon some -well-roofed building.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Now, my noble lord," cried he, "down from your horse, and prepare to -rush on! By Heaven's grace, you shall be the first man in Mirebeau; -for I hear by the shouts, that the others have not forced the gates -yet.--Hugo, if thou art not badly hurt with that arrow, range the men -behind us--By the Lord! William of Salisbury will stay till the tower -falls!--See! they are trying to extinguish the fire by casting water -over, but it is in vain; the pillars have caught the flame. Hark, how -they crack!"</p> - -<p class="normal">As De Coucy spoke, the earl of Salisbury and his men, seeing that the -attempt to put out the fire was useless, retired from the tower. The -flame gradually consumed the heaps of loose wood and fagots with which -the knight had filled the mine; and the strong props of wood with -which he had supported the wall as he worked on, caught fire, one -after the other, and blazed with intense fury. The besiegers and the -besieged watched alike in breathless expectation, as the fire wore -away the strength of the wood. Suddenly one of the props gave way; but -only a mass of heated masonry followed. Another broke--the tower -tottered--the others snapped short with the weight--the falling mass -seemed to balance itself in the air, and struggle, like an overthrown -king, to stand for but a moment longer--then down it rushed, with a -sound like thunder, and lay a mass of smoking ruins on the plain.</p> - -<p class="normal">"On! on!" cried De Coucy; "charge before the dust subsides! A Coucy! a -Coucy!--St. Michael! St. Michael!" and in an instant he was standing, -with prince Arthur by his side, in the midst of the breach which the -fall of the tower had made in the wall and half-way up the sort of -causeway formed by its ruins. They passed not, however, unopposed, for -Wilham Longsword instantly threw himself before them.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Up! Prince Arthur! up!" cried De Coucy; "you must be the first.--Set -your foot on my knee:" and he bent it to aid the young prince in -climbing a mass of broken wall that lay before him. Arthur sprang up, -sword in hand, amidst the smothering cloud of dust and smoke that -still hung above the ruins, and his weapon was instantly crossed with -that of his uncle, William of Salisbury, his father's natural -brother. At the same moment, De Coucy rushed forward and struck down -two of the Norman soldiers who opposed his passage; but then paused, -in order not to abandon Arthur to an old and experienced knight, far -more than his match in arms.</p> - -<p class="normal">For five blows and their return, De Coucy suffered the prince to -maintain the combat himself, <i>to win his spurs</i>, as he mentally termed -it. The sixth stroke, however, of William of Salisbury's tremendous -sword fell upon Arthur's shoulder; and though the noble lad sturdily -bore up, and was not even brought upon his knee, yet the part of his -armour where the blow fell, flew into shivers with its force. The earl -lifted his sword again, and Arthur, somewhat dizzied and confused, -made a very faint movement to parry it; but instantly De Coucy rushed -in, and received the edge of the weapon on his shield.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Nobly fought! my prince!" cried he, covering Arthur with one arm, and -returning William Longsword's blow with the other,--"nobly fought, and -knightly done!--Push in with your men-at-arms, and the Brabançois, and -leave this one to me.--Now, Salisbury, old friend, we have stood side -by side in Palestine. I love thee as well face to face. Thou art a -noble foe. There stands my foot!"</p> - -<p class="normal">"Brave Coucy! Thou shalt have thy heart's content!" cried the earl, -dealing one of his sweeping blows at the knight's neck. But he had now -met with his equal; and, indeed, so powerful were each of the -champions, so skilful in the use of their weapons, and so cool in -their contention, that the combat between them was long and undecided. -Blow answered blow with the rapidity of lightning: stroke followed -stroke. Their arms struck fire, the crests were shorn from their -helmets, the bearings effaced from their shields, and their surcoats -of arms became as tattered as a beggar's gown.</p> - -<p class="normal">Still, though De Coucy pressed him with impetuous fury, William of -Salisbury yielded not a step; and it was only when he saw his -followers driven back by the superior number of the Brabançois and -men-at-arms, led by Arthur, that he retired a pace or two, still -dealing blows thick and fast at De Coucy, who followed foot by foot, -shouting his battle-cry, and encouraging the men to advance: while, -every now and then, he addressed some word of friendly admiration to -his opponent, even in the midst of the deadly strife that he urged so -furiously against him.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Thou art a good knight, on my soul, lord Salisbury!" cried he; "yet -take that for the despatch of this affair!" and he struck him with the -full sway of his blade, on the side of his head, so that the earl -reeled as he stood.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Gramercy!" cried William, recovering his equipoise, and letting a -blow fall on the knight's casque, not inferior in force to the one he -had received.</p> - -<p class="normal">At that moment, however, his troops gave way still farther before the -Brabançois; and at the same time a party of the burghers came rushing -from another part of the town, crying "The gate is lost! the gate is -lost!--we saw it dashed in!"</p> - -<p class="normal">"Then the town is lost too," said Salisbury coolly.--"Sound a -retreat!" he continued, turning his head slightly to a squire, who -stood behind him watching lest he should be struck down, but forbidden -by all the laws of war to interpose between two knights, so long as -they could themselves maintain the combat. At the same time, while the -squire, as he had been bidden, sounded a retreat on his horn, William -Longsword still continued to oppose himself to the very front of the -enemy; and not till his men were clear, and in full retreat towards -the castle, did he seek to escape himself, though he in a degree -quitted the personal combat with De Coucy to cover with some of his -bravest men-at-arms the rear of the rest. Now, he struck a blow here; -now felled a Brabançois there; now, returned for an instant to De -Coucy; and now, rushed rapidly to restore order amongst his retreating -troops.</p> - -<p class="normal">As they quitted the walls, however, and got embarrassed in the streets -of the town, the Norman soldiers were every moment thrown into more -and more confusion, by the various parties of the burghers who had -abandoned the walls, and were flying towards the castle for shelter. -Several knights also, and men-at-arms, were seen retreating up the -high streets, from the gate which had been attacked by Savary de -Maulèon; just at the moment that De Coucy, rushing on into the -market-place, caught his standard from the hands of Hugo de Barre, and -struck it into the midst of the great fountain of the town.</p> - -<p class="normal">The flight of the knights showed sufficiently to lord Salisbury, that -the gate which they had been placed to defend had been forced also; -and his sole care became now to get his men as speedily and as safely -within the walls of the castle as possible. This was not so difficult -to do; for though De Coucy and Arthur still hung upon his rear with -the men-at-arms, and a part of the Brabançois, a great majority of the -latter, giving way to their natural inclination, dispersed to pursue -their ancient avocation of plundering.</p> - -<p class="normal">A scene of no small horror presented itself at the gates of the -castle. Multitudes of the burghers, with their women and children, had -crowded thither for safety; but Eleanor, with the most pitiless -cruelty, ordered the garrison to drive them back with arrows, and not -to suffer one to enter on pain of death. Their outstretched hands, -their heart-rending cries, were all in vain; the queen was inexorable; -and more than one had been wounded with the arrows, who had dared to -approach the barbican.</p> - -<p class="normal">When Salisbury and his band came near, however, the multitude, driven -to despair by seeing the pursuers following fiercely on his track, -made an universal rush to enter along with him; and it was only by -using their swords against the townsmen, and even the women, that the -soldiers could clear themselves a passage.</p> - -<p class="normal">Salisbury was of course the last who passed himself; and as he turned -to enter, while his soldiers formed again within the barbican, two -women, of the highest class of the townspeople, clung to his knees, -entreating him by all that may move man's heart, to let them follow -within the walls.</p> - -<p class="normal">"I cannot!--I must not!" exclaimed he harshly; but then, turning once -more, he shouted to De Coucy, who, seeing that farther pursuit was -vain, now followed more slowly.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Sire De Coucy!" he exclaimed, as if he had been speaking to his -dearest friend. "If you love me, protect this helpless crowd as much -as may be. For old friendship's sake, I pray thee!"</p> - -<p class="normal">"I will, Salisbury!--I will!" replied De Coucy,--"beau sire Arthur, -have I your permission?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"Do what thou wilt, dear friend and noble knight," replied the prince. -"Is there anything you could ask me now, that I would not grant?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"Stand back then, ho!" cried the knight, waving his hand to the -Brabançois, who were pressing forward towards the trembling crowd of -burghers "Stand back! Who passes that mark is my foe!" and he cast -his gauntlet on the ground in the front of the line.</p> - -<p class="normal">"We will not be balked of our spoil. The purses of the burghers are -ours!" cried several of the free companions; and one sprang forward -from immediately behind De Coucy, and passed the bound he had fixed. -That instant, however, the knight, without seeing or inquiring who he -was, struck him a blow in the face with the pommel of his sword, that -laid him rolling on the ground with the blood spouting from his mouth -and nose. No one made a movement to follow; and Jodelle--for it was -he--rose from the ground, and retired silently to his companions.</p> - -<p class="normal">De Coucy then advanced with prince Arthur towards the multitude -crowding round the barbican. Immediately the soldiers on the walls -bent their bows: but the voice of the earl of Salisbury was heard -exclaiming, "Whoever wings a shaft at him dies on the spot?" and De -Coucy proceeded to tell the people, that they must, if they hoped to -be spared, yield whatever gold or jewels they had about them to the -soldiery; and that all such men as were not clerks must agree to -surrender themselves prisoners, and pay a fair ransom, such as should -be determined afterwards by the prince's council.</p> - -<p class="normal">This matter was soon settled; the universal cry from the burghers -being, in their extremity of fear, "Save our lives!--Save our women's -honour!--Save our children!--and take gold, or whatever else we -possess!" Each one instantly stripped himself of the wealth he had -about him; and this, being collected in a heap, satisfied for the time -the rapacity of the soldiers. De Coucy then took measures to secure -the lives of the prisoners; and putting them by twos and threes under -the protection of the prince's men-at-arms and his own squires, he -accompanied Arthur to the market-place, followed by the Brabançois, -wrangling with each other concerning the distribution of the spoil, -and seemingly forgetful of their disappointment in not having been -permitted to add bloodshed to plunder.</p> - -<p class="normal">In the market-place, beside De Coucy's standard, stood Savary de -Maulèon, Geoffroy de Lusignan, and several other barons, with three -Norman knights as prisoners. The moment De Coucy and Arthur -approached, Savary de Maulèon advanced to meet them; and with that -generous spirit, which formed one of the brightest points in the -ancient knightly character, he pressed the former opponent of his -counsels in his mailed arms, exclaiming, "By my faith, Sire de Coucy, -thou hast kept thy word! There stands thy banner, an hour before -sun-set! and I proclaim thee, with the voice of all my companions, the -lord of this day's fight."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Not so, fair sir!" replied De Coucy, "not so! There is another, to -whom the honour justly belongs.--Who first mounted the breach we made -in the wall? Who first measured swords with the famous William -Longsword, earl of Salisbury, and who, in short, has been the first in -all this day's achievements?--Here he stands," continued the knight, -turning towards the princely youth who stood beside him, blushing -to his very brow, both with graceful embarrassment and gratified -pride--"here he stands! and may this conquest of Mirebeau be but the -first of those that shall, step by step, give him his whole -dominions.--Sound trumpets, sound!--Long life to Arthur, king of -England!"</p> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<h3>CHAPTER VII.</h3> -<br> - -<p class="continue">Just six days after the events we have related in our last chapter, -Guerin, the good minister whom we have so often had occasion to -notice, was walking up and down under a range of old beech-trees, -which, forming the last limit of the forest of Compiègne, approached -close to the castle, and waved their wide branches even over part of -the royal garden.</p> - -<p class="normal">Guerin, however, was not within the boundary of the garden; from which -the spot he had chosen for his walk, was separated by a palisade and -ditch covered towards the castle by a high hedge of shrubs. There was -indeed an outlet towards the forest by means of a small postern door, -and a slight moveable bridge of wood, but the key of that gate -remained alone with the king; so that the minister, to reach the part -of the wood in which he walked, must have made a considerable circuit -round the castle, and through part of the town itself. His object, -probably, in choosing that particular spot, was to enjoy some moments -of undisturbed thought, without shutting himself up in the close -chambers of a Gothic château. Indeed, the subjects which he revolved -in his heart were of that nature, which one loves to deal with in the -open air, where we have free space to occupy the matter, while the -mind is differently engaged--strong contending doubts, hesitations -between right and wrong, the struggles of a naturally gentle and -feeling heart, against the dictates of political necessity. Such were -the guests of his bosom. The topic, which thus painfully busied the -minister's thoughts, was the communication made to him by the good but -weak bishop of Paris, as a consequence of his conversation with -Bernard, the hermit of St. Mandé.</p> - -<p class="normal">To tear the hearts of the king and queen asunder,--to cast between -them so sad an apple of discord as jealousy, especially when he -felt convinced that Agnes's love to her husband was as firm as -adamant,--was a stroke of policy for which the mind of Guerin was -hardly framed; and yet the misery that the interdict had already -brought, the thousand, thousand fold that it was yet to bring, could -only be done away and averted by such a step. Philip remained firm to -resist to the last; Agnes was equally so to abide by his will, without -making any attempt to quit him. In a hundred parts of the kingdom, the -people were actually in revolt. The barons were leaguing together to -compel the king to submission, or to dethrone him; and ruin, -wretchedness, and destruction seemed threatening France on every side. -The plan proposed by the canon of St. Berthe's might turn away the -storm, and yet Guerin would rather have had his hand struck off than -put it in execution.</p> - -<p class="normal">Such were the thoughts, and such the contending feelings, that warred -against each other in his breast, while he paced slowly up and down -before the palisade of the garden; and yet nothing showed itself upon -his countenance but deep, calm thought. He was not one of those men -whose features or whose movements betray the workings of the mind. -There were no wild starts, no broken expressions, no muttered -sentences: his corporeal feelings were not sufficiently excitable for -such gesticulations: and the stern retired habits of his life had -given a degree of rigidity to his features, which, without effort -rendered them on all ordinary events as immoveable as those of a -statue.</p> - -<p class="normal">On the present occasion, he was followed by a page bearing his sword; -for, as we have before said, during many years after he had been -elected to the bishopric of Senlis, he retained the habit of a knight -hospitaller; but the boy, though accustomed to mark his lord's -countenance, beheld nothing there but the usual steady gravity of -profound thought.</p> - -<p class="normal">As he passed backwards and forwards, the voices of two persons -conversing in the garden hard by struck his ear. At first, the -speakers were afar off, and their tones indistinct; but gradually they -came so near, that their words even would have been perfectly audible, -had Guerin been one to play the eaves-dropper; and then again they -passed on, the sounds dying away as they pursued their walk round -their garden.</p> - -<p class="normal">"The queen's voice," said Guerin to himself; "and, if I mistake not, -that of the Count D'Auvergne. He arrived at Compiègne last night, by -Philip's own invitation, who expected to have returned from Gournay -long since. Pray God, he fail not there! for one rebuff in war, and -all his barons would be upon him at once. I wish I had gone myself; -for he is sometimes rash. If he were to return now, and find this -Auvergne with the queen, his jealousy might perchance spring from his -own head. But there is no hope of that: as he came not last night, he -will not arrive till evening."</p> - -<p class="normal">Such was the course of Guerin's thoughts, when a page, dressed in a -bright green tunic of silk, approached, and, addressing himself to the -follower of the minister, asked his way to the garden of the château.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Why, you must go a mile and more round, by the town, and in at the -great gates of the castle," replied Guerin's page.--"What do you seek -in the garden?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"I seek the Count d'Auvergne," replied the youth, "on business of life -and death; and they told me that he was in the garden behind the -château, close by the forest.--My curse upon all misleaders!" and he -turned to retread his steps through the town.</p> - -<p class="normal">Guerin had not heeded this brief conversation, but had rather -quickened his pace, to avoid hearing what was said by the queen and -the Count d'Auvergne, who at the moment were passing, as we have said, -on the other side of the palisade, and spoke loud, in the full -confidence that no human ears were near. A few words, however, forced -themselves upon his hearing.</p> - -<p class="normal">"And such was my father's command and message," said Agnes in a -sorrowful tone.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Such, indeed, it was, lady," replied the Count d'Auvergne; "and he -bade me entreat and conjure you, by all that is dear and sacred -between parent and child----"</p> - -<p class="normal">Guerin, as we have said, quickened his pace: and what the unhappy -Count d'Auvergne added was lost, at least to him. Sufficient time had -just elapsed, to allow the speakers in the garden to turn away from -that spot and take the sweep towards the castle, when the sound of -horse was heard approaching. Guerin advanced to the end of one of the -alleys, and to his surprise beheld the king, followed by about a dozen -men-at-arms, coming towards the castle in all haste.</p> - -<p class="normal">Before he reached the spot where Guerin stood, Philip dismounted, and -gave his bridle to one of the squires. "I will through the garden," -said he:--"go you round to the gates as quietly as possible--I would -not have the poor burgesses know that I am returned, or I shall have -petitions and lamentations about this accursed interdict: petitions -that I cannot grant--lamentations that I would not hear."</p> - -<p class="normal">The squire took the bridle, and, in obedience to the king's commands, -turned another way with the rest of the party; while Philip advanced -slowly, with his brow knit, and his eyes fixed on the ground. He did -not observe his minister; and, as he came onward, it was easy to read -deep, powerful, painful thought in every line of his countenance. -Twice he stopped, as he advanced, with his look still bent upon the -earth, and remained gazing thereon, without word or motion, for -several minutes. It would have seemed that he paused to remark some -moss and wild flowers, gathered together at his feet, had not his -frowning forehead, and stern, fixed eye, as well as the mournful shake -of the head, with which his pause still ended, told that sadder and -more bitter contemplations were busy in his mind.</p> - -<p class="normal">The last time he stopped was within ten paces of Guerin, and yet he -did not see him, so deeply occupied were all his thoughts. At length, -unclasping his arms, which had been folded over his breast, he -clenched his hands tight, exclaiming, "Happy, happy Saladin! Thou hast -no meddling priest to disturb thy domestic joys!--By Heaven! I will -embrace thy creed, and worship Mahound!"</p> - -<p class="normal">As he spoke, he raised his eyes, and they instantly rested on the -figure of his minister. "Ha, Guerin!" cried the king, "has the -interdict driven thee forth from the city?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"Not so, sire," replied the minister. "I came forth to meditate here -in silence, over what might be done to raise it.--Get thee gone, boy!" -he continued, turning to his page. "Hie thee to the castle, and leave -me with the king."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Oh! Guerin!" said Philip, pursuing his own train of thought,--"oh -Guerin! think of these base barons! these disloyal knights! After all -their empty enthusiasm!--after all their vain boastings!--after all -their lying promises!--falling off from me now, in my moment of -need! like flies frightened from a dead carcase by the wings of a -raven.--And the bishops too!--the goodly, saintly, fickle, treacherous -pack, frightened by the very hum of Rome's vulture wings!--they leave -me in the midst of the evil they have made! But, by the Lord above! -they shall suffer for their treason! Bishops and barons! they shall -feel this interdict as deeply as I do. Their treachery and cowardice -shall fill my treasury, and shall swell my crown's domains; and they -shall find that Philip knows how to make their punishment increase his -power. Gournay has fallen, Guerin," continued the king, "without the -loss of a man. I cut the high sluices and overwhelmed them in the -waters of their own artificial lake. Walls, and turrets, and -buttresses gave way before the rushing inundation, like straws before -the sickle. Half Normandy has yielded without resistance; and I might -have come back joyful, but that in every town as I passed, it was -murmurs, and petitions, and lamentations on the foul interdict. -They brought out their dead," proceeded Philip, grasping Guerin's -arm,--"they brought out their dead, and laid them at my feet! They -lined the streets with the dying, shrieking for the aid of religion. -Oh! Guerin! my friend! 'tis very horrible!--very, very, very -horrible!"</p> - -<p class="normal">"It is indeed, sire!" said Guerin solemnly, "most horrible! and I am -sorry to increase your affliction by telling you, that, by every -courier that arrives, the most alarming accounts are brought from the -various provinces of your kingdom, speaking of nothing but open -rebellion and revolt."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Where?" cried Philip Augustus, his eyes flashing fire. "Where? Who -dares revolt against the will of their liege sovereign?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"In fifty different points of the kingdom the populace are in arms, -sire!" replied the minister. "I will lay the details before you at -your leisure. Many of the barons, too, remonstrate in no humble tone."</p> - -<p class="normal">"We will march against them, Guerin,--we will march against them," -replied the king firmly, "and serfs and barons shall learn they have a -lord."</p> - -<p class="normal">As he spoke, he advanced a few paces towards the garden, then paused, -and drawing forth a scrap of parchment, he put it into Guerin's hand. -"I found that on my table at Gournay," said the king. "'Tis strange! -Some enemy of the Count d'Auvergne has done it!"</p> - -<p class="normal">Guerin looked at the paper, and beheld, written evidently in the hand -of the canon of St. Berthe's, which he well knew; "Sir king, beware of -the Count d'Auvergne!" The minister, however, had no time to make any -reply; for the sound of the voices in the garden began again to -approach, and Philip instantly recognised the tones of Agnes de -Meranie.</p> - -<p class="normal">"'Tis the queen," said he,--"'Tis Agnes!" and as he spoke that beloved -name, all the cares and sorrows that, in the world, had gathered round -his noble brow, like morning clouds about the high peak of some proud -mountain, rolled away, like those same clouds before the risen sun, -and his countenance beamed with more than usual happiness.</p> - -<p class="normal">Guerin had by no means determined how to act, though he decidedly -leaned towards the scheme of the canon of St. Berthe's; but the -radiant gladness of Philip's eye at the very name of Agnes de Meranie, -strangely shook all the minister's conclusions, and he remained more -than ever in doubt.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Hark!" cried Philip, in some surprise. "There is the voice of a -man!--To whom does she speak? Know you, Guerin?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"I believe--I believe, sire," replied the minister, really embarrassed -and undecided how to act,--"I believe it is the Count d'Auvergne."</p> - -<p class="normal">"You believe!--you believe!" cried the king, the blood mounting into -his face, till the veins of his temples swelled out in wavy lines upon -his clear skin. "The Count d'Auvergne! You hesitate--you stammer, sir -bishop!--you that never hesitated in your days before. What means -this?--By the God of heaven! I will know!"--and drawing forth the key -of the postern, he strode towards it. But at that moment the sound of -the voices came nearer and nearer--It was irresistible--The king -paused.</p> - -<p class="normal">Agnes was speaking, and somewhat vehemently. "Once for all, beau sire -d'Auvergne," she said, "urge me no more; for, notwithstanding all you -say--notwithstanding all my own feelings in this respect, I must -not--I cannot--I will not--quit my husband. That name alone, my -husband, were enough to bind me to him by every duty; and I will never -quit him!"</p> - -<p class="normal">What were the feelings of Philip Augustus as he heard such words, -combined with the hesitation of his minister, with the warning he had -received, and with the confused memory of former suspicions! The -thoughts that rushed through his brain had nearly driven him to -madness. "She loves me not!" he thought. "She loves me not--after all -I have done, and sacrificed for her! She is coldly virtuous--but she -loves me not;--she owns, her feelings take part with her seducer!--but -she will not leave me, for duty's sake!--Hell and fury! I, that have -adored her! She loves me not!--Oh God! she loves me not!--But -he,--he--shall not escape me! No,--I will wring his heart of its last -drop of blood! I will trample it under my feet!"</p> - -<p class="normal">His wild straining eye,--the almost bursting veins of his -temples,--the clenching of his hands,--but more, the last words, which -had found utterance aloud--showed evidently to Guerin the dreadfully -over-wrought state of the king's mind; and, casting himself between -Philip and the postern as he rushed towards it, he firmly opposed the -monarch's passage, kneeling at his feet, and clasping his knees in his -still vigorous arms.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Some one is coming. Count d'Auvergne!" Agnes was heard to say -hastily. "Begone! leave me!--Never let me hear of this again! Begone, -sir, I beg!"</p> - -<p class="normal">"Unclasp me," cried the king, struggling to free himself from Guerin's -hold. "Thou knew'st it too, vile confidant! Base betrayer of your -sovereign's honour!--Unclasp me, or, by Heaven! you die as you -kneel!--Away! I say!" and, drawing his sword, he raised his arm over -the hospitaller's head.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Strike, sire!" cried Guerin undauntedly, clasping the monarch's knees -still more firmly in his arms--"strike your faithful servant! His -blood is yours--take it! You cannot wound his heart more deeply with -your weapon, than you have done with your words--Strike! I am unarmed; -but here will I lie, between you and your mad passion, till you have -time to think what it is to slay a guest, whom you yourself invited, -in your own halls--before you know whether he be guilty or not."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Free me, Guerin!" said Philip more calmly, but still with bitter -sternness. "Free me, I say! I am the king once more! Nay, hold not by -my haubert, man!"</p> - -<p class="normal">Guerin rose, saying, "I beseech you, sire, consider! But Philip put -him aside with a strong arm; and, passing over the bridge, entered the -garden by the postern gate.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Now, God forgive us all, if we have done amiss in this matter; and -surely if I have inflicted pain, it has not been without suffering it -too." Such was the reflection of the good bishop of Senlis, when left -by Philip; but although his heart was deeply wrung to see the agony of -a man he loved, and to be thereof even a promoter, he was not one to -waste his moments in fruitless regrets; and, passing through the -postern, which the king had neglected to shut, he proceeded, as fast -as possible, towards the castle, in order to govern the circumstances, -and moderate Philip's wrath, as much as the power of man might do.</p> - -<p class="normal">In the mean while, Philip had entered the garden with his sword drawn, -and passing through the formal rows of flowering shrubs, which was the -taste of that day, he stood for an instant at the top of the large -square of ground which lay between him and the castle. Half the way -down on the left side, his eye caught the form of Agnes de Meranie; -but she was alone, save inasmuch as two of her ladies, following at -about a hundred yards' distance, could be said to keep her company. -Without turning towards her, Philip passed through a long arcade of -trellis-work which ran along the wall to the right, and, with a pace -of light, made his way to the castle.</p> - -<p class="normal">On the steps he paused, replaced his sword in the sheath, and, passing -through one of the lesser towers, in a minute after stood in the midst -of the great hall. The men-at-arms started up from their various -occupations and amusements, and stood marvelling at the unannounced -coming of the king; more than one of them taxing themselves internally -with some undisclosed fault, and wondering if this unusual visitation -portended a reproof.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Has the Count d'Auvergne been seen?" demanded Philip in a tone which -he meant to be calm, but which, though sufficiently rigid--if such a -term may be applied to sound--still betrayed more agitation than he -imagined--"Has the Count d'Auvergne been seen?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"He passed but this instant, sire," replied one of the serjeants, -"with a page habited in green, who has been searching for him this -hour."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Seek him!" cried the king in a voice that needed no repetition; and -the men-at-arms vanished in every direction from the hall, like dust -scattered by the wind. During their absence, Philip strode up and down -the pavement, his arms ringing as he trod, while the bitter gnawing of -his nether lip showed but too plainly the burning passions that were -kindled in his bosom. Every now and then, too, he would pause at one -of the doors, throw it wide open--look out, or listen for a moment, -and then resume his perturbed pacing in the hall.</p> - -<p class="normal">In a few minutes, however, the bishop of Senlis entered, and -approached the king. Philip passed him by, knitting his brow, and -bending his eyes on the ground, as if resolved not to see him. Guerin, -notwithstanding his frown, came nearer, respectfully but boldly; and -the king was obliged to look up. "Leave me, sir Guerin," said he. "I -will speak with thee anon. Answer not; but leave me, for fear of -worse."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Whatever worse than your displeasure may happen, sire," replied -Guerin, "I must abide it--claiming, however, the right of committing -the old servant's crime, and speaking first, if I am to be chidden -after."</p> - -<p class="normal">Philip crossed his arms upon his broad chest, and with a stern brow -looked the minister full in the face; but remained silent, and -suffered him to continue.</p> - -<p class="normal">"You have this day, my lord," proceeded Guerin, with unabated -boldness, "used hard terms towards a faithful subject and an ancient -friend; but you have conferred the great power upon me of forgiving my -king. My lord, I do forgive you, for thinking that the man who has -served you truly for twenty years,--since when first, in the boyish -hand of fifteen, you held an unsteady sceptre,--would now betray your -honour himself, or know it betrayed without warning you thereof. True, -my lord, I believed the Count d'Auvergne to be at the moment of your -arrival in the castle gardens with your royal queen."</p> - -<p class="normal">The king's lip curled, but he remained silent. "Nevertheless," -continued Guerin, "so God help me, as I did and do believe he meant no -evil towards you, beau sire; and nought but honourable friendship -towards the queen."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Good man!" cried the king, his lip curling with a sneer, doubly -bitter, because it stung himself as well as him to whom it was -addressed. "Guerin, Guerin, thou art a good man!--too good, as the -world goes!"</p> - -<p class="normal">"Mock me, sire, if you will," replied the minister, "but hear me still. -I knew the Count d'Auvergne to be the dear friend of this lady's -father--the sworn companion in arms of her dead brother: and I doubted -not that, as he lately comes from Istria, he might be charged to -enforce towards the queen herself, the same request that her father -made to you by letter, when first he heard that the divorce was -annulled by the see of Rome--namely, that his daughter might return to -his court, and not be made both the subject and sacrifice of long -protracted disputes with the supreme pontiff."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Ha!" said the king, raising his hand thoughtfully to his brow. -"Say'st thou?" and for several minutes he remained in deep meditation. -"Guerin, my friend," said he at length, raising his eyes to the -minister as he comprehended at once the hospitaller's motive for -gladly yielding way to such a communication between the Count -d'Auvergne and Agnes as that of which he spoke--"Guerin, my friend, -thou hast cleared thyself of all but judging ill. Thy intentions--as I -believe from my soul they always are--were right. I did thee wrong. -Forgive me, good friend, in charity; for, even among kings, I am very, -very unhappy!" and he stretched out his hand towards his minister.</p> - -<p class="normal">Guerin bent his lips to it in silence; and the king proceeded:--</p> - -<p class="normal">"In clearing thyself too, thou hast mingled a doubt with my hatred of -this Thibalt d'Auvergne; but thou hast not taken the thorn from my -bosom. She may be chaste as ice, Guerin. Nay, she is. Her every -word, her every look speaks it--even her language to him was beyond -doubt--but still, she loves me not, Guerin! She spoke of duty, but she -never spoke of love! She, who has been my adoration--she, who loved -me, I thought, as kings are seldom loved--she loves me not!"</p> - -<p class="normal">Guerin was silent. He felt that he could not conscientiously say one -word to strengthen the king's conclusion, that Agnes did not love him; -but for the sake of the great object he had in view, of raising the -interdict, and thereby freeing France from all the dangers that -menaced her, he forebore to express his firm conviction of the queen's -deep attachment to her husband.</p> - -<p class="normal">Fortunately for his purpose, at this moment one or two of the king's -serjeants-at-arms returned, informing Philip, with no small addition -of surprise, that they could find no trace of the Count d'Auvergne.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Let better search be made!" said the king; "and the moment he is -found, let him be arrested in my name, and confined, under strict -guard, in the chapel tower. Let his usage be good, but his prison -sure. Your heads shall answer!" Thus saying, he turned, and left the -hall, followed by Guerin, who dared not urge his remonstrances farther -at the moment.</p> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<h3>CHAPTER VIII.</h3> -<br> - -<p class="continue">It may be necessary here to go back a little, in order to show more -fully what had really been that conversation between Thibalt -d'Auvergne and the fair Agnes de Meranie, of which but a few words -have yet reached the reader's ears.</p> - -<p class="normal">The Count d'Auvergne had come to the castle of Compiègne, as we have -shown, upon the direct invitation of the king himself; and, indeed, -Philip had taken more than one occasion to court his powerful vassal; -not alone, perhaps, from political motives, but because he felt within -himself, without any defined cause, a kind of doubt and dislike -towards him, which he believed to be unjust, and knew to be impolitic; -and which, he was continually afraid, might become apparent, unless he -stretched his courtesy to its utmost extent.</p> - -<p class="normal">D'Auvergne made no return. The frozen rigidity of his manner was never -relaxed for an instant; and whatever warmth the king assumed, it could -never thaw him even to a smile. Nor was this wholly the offspring of -that personal dislike which he might well be supposed to feel to a -happy and successful rival; but he felt that, bound by his promise to -the old duke of Istria, he had a task to perform, which Philip would -consider that of an enemy, and therefore D'Auvergne resolved never to -bear towards him, for a moment, the semblance of a friend.</p> - -<p class="normal">Having, after his return to Paris, once more accepted Philip's -invitation to Compiègne; which, being made upon the plea of consulting -him respecting the conquest of Constantinople, was complied with, -without obligation. D'Auvergne proceeded on the evening appointed to -the castle; but, finding that Philip had not returned from the siege -of Gournay, he lodged himself and his followers, as he best might, in -the village. He felt, however, that he must seize the moment which -presented itself, of conveying to Agnes her father's message; and -convinced, by bitter experience, of the quick and mortal nature of -opportunity, the morning after his arrival he proceeded to the castle, -and demanded an audience of the queen.</p> - -<p class="normal">No sensation on earth, perhaps, can be conceived more bitter than that -of seeing the object of one's love in the possession of another; and -Thibalt d'Auvergne's heart beat painfully--his very lip grew pale, as -he passed into the castle hall, and bade one of the pages announce him -to the queen. A few moments passed, after the boy's departure, in sad -expectation; the memory of former days contrasting their bright -fancies with the dark and gloomy hopelessness of the present. The page -speedily returned, and informed the count that his lady, the queen, -would see him with pleasure if he would follow to the garden. -D'Auvergne summoned all his courage; for there is more real valour in -meeting and conquering our own feelings, when armed against us, than -in overthrowing the best paladin that ever mounted horse. He followed -the boy towards the garden with a firm step, and, on entering, soon -perceived the queen advancing to meet him.</p> - -<p class="normal">She was no longer the gay, bright girl that he had known in Istria, on -whose rosy cheek the touch of care had withered not a flower, whose -step was buoyancy, whose eyes looked youth, and whose arching lip -breathed the very spirit of gladness. She was no longer the same fair -girl we have seen, dreaming with her beloved husband overjoys and -hopes that royal stations must not know--with the substantial -happiness of the present, and the fanciful delights of the future, -forming a beamy wreath of smiles around her brow.--No; she was still -fair and lovely, but with a sadder kind of loveliness. The same sweet -features remained,--the same bland soul, shining from within--the same -heavenly eyes--the same enchanting lip; but those eyes had an -expression of pensive languor, far different from former days; and -that lip, though it beamed with a sweet welcoming smile, as her -father's and her brother's friend approached, seemed as if chained -down by some power of melancholy, so that the smile itself was sad. -The rose too had left her cheek; and though a very, very lovely colour -of a different hue had supplied its place, still it was not the colour -of the rose. It was something more delicate, more tender, more akin -to the last blush of the sinking sun before he stoops into the -darkness.</p> - -<p class="normal">Two of the queen's ladies were at some distance behind, and, with good -discretion, after the count d'Auvergne had joined their royal -mistress, they made that distance greater. D'Auvergne advanced, and, -as was the custom of the day, bent his lips to the queen's hand. The -one he raised it in, trembled as if it were palsied; but there was -feverish heat in that of Agnes, as he pressed his lip upon it, still -more fearful.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Welcome to the court, beau sire D'Auvergne!" said the queen with a -sweet and unembarrassed smile. "You have heard that my truant husband, -Philip, has not yet returned, though he promised me, with all a -lover's vows, to be back by yester-even. They tell me, you men are all -false with us women, and, in good truth, I begin to think it."</p> - -<p class="normal">"May you never find it too bitterly, madam," replied the count.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Nay, you spoke that in sad earnest, my lord," said Agnes, now -striving with effort for the same playful gaiety that was once natural -to her. "You are no longer what you were in Istria, beau sire. But we -must make you merrier before you leave our court. Come, you know, -before the absolution, must still go confession;" and as she spoke, -with a certain sort of restlessness that had lately seized her, she -led the way round the garden, adding, "Confess, beau sire, what makes -you sad--every one must have something to make them sad--so I will be -your confessor. Confess, and you shall have remission."</p> - -<p class="normal">She touched the count's wound to the quick, and he replied in a tone -of sadness bordering on reproach: "Oh! madam! I fear me, confession -would come too late!"</p> - -<p class="normal">How a single word--a single tone--a single look, will sometimes give -the key to a mystery. There are moments when conception, awakened we -know not how, flashes like the lightning through all space, illumining -at once a world that was before all darkness. That single sentence, -with the tone in which it was said, touched the "electric chain" of -memory, and ran brightening along over a thousand links in the past, -which connected those words with the days long gone by. It all flashed -upon Agnes's mind at once. She had been loved--deeply, powerfully -loved; and, unknowing <i>then</i> what love was, she had not seen it. But -<i>now</i>, that love was the constant food of her mind, from morning until -night, her eyes were opened at once, and that, with no small pain to -herself. The change in her manner, however, was instant; and she felt, -that one light word, one gay jest, after that discovery, would render -her culpable, both to her husband and to Thibalt d'Auvergne. Her eye -lost the light it had for a moment assumed--the smile died away upon -her lip, and she became calm and cold as some fair statue.</p> - -<p class="normal">The Count d'Auvergne saw the change, and felt perhaps why; but as he -did feel it, firm in the noble rectitude of his intentions, he lost -the embarrassment of his manner, and took up the conversation which -the queen had dropped entirely.</p> - -<p class="normal">"To quit a most painful subject, madam," he said calmly and firmly, -"allow me to say that I should never have returned to Europe, had not -duties called me; those duties are over, and I shall soon go back to -wear out the frail rest of life amidst the soldiers of the cross. I -may fall before some Saracen lance,--I may taste the cup of the mortal -plague; but my bones shall whiten on a distant shore, after fighting -under the sign of our salvation. There still, however, remains one -task to be performed, which, however wringing to my heart, must be -completed. As I returned to France, madam, I know not what desire of -giving myself pain made me visit Istria; I there saw your noble -father, who bound me by a knightly vow to bear a message to his -child."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Indeed, sir!" said Agnes: "let me beg you would deliver it.--But -first tell me, how is my father?" she aided anxiously,--"how looks he? -Have age, and the wearing cares of this world, made any inroad on his -vigorous strength? Speak, sir count!"</p> - -<p class="normal">"I should say falsely, lady," replied D'Auvergne, "if I said that, -since I saw him before, he had not become, when last we met, an -altered man. But I was told by those about him, that 'tis within the -last year this change has principally taken place."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Indeed!" said Agnes thoughtfully: "and has it been very great? Stoops -he now? He was as upright as a mountain pine, when I left him? Goes he -forth to hunt as formerly?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"He often seeks the chase, lady," answered the count, "as a diversion -to his somewhat gloomy thoughts; but I am grieved to say, that age has -bent the pine."</p> - -<p class="normal">Agnes mused for several minutes; and the count remained silent.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Well, sir," said she at length, "the message--what is it? Gave he no -letter?</p> - -<p class="normal">"None, madam," said the count; "he thought that a message by one who -had seen him, and one whose wishes for your welfare were undoubted, -might be more serviceable to the purpose he desired."</p> - -<p class="normal">"My lord, your wishes for my welfare are as undoubted by me as they -are by my father," replied the queen, noticing a slight emphasis which -D'Auvergne had placed upon the word <i>undoubted</i>; "and therefore I am -happy to receive his message from the lips of his friend."</p> - -<p class="normal">The queen's words were courteous and kind, but her manner was as cold -and distant as if she had spoken to a stranger; and D'Auvergne felt -hurt that it should be so, though he well knew that her conduct was -perhaps the wisest for both.</p> - -<p class="normal">After a moment's thought, however, he proceeded, to deliver the -message wherewith he had been charged by the duke of Istria and -Meranie. "Your father, lady," he said, "charged me to give you the -following message;--and let me beg you to remember, that, as far as -memory serves, I use his own words; for what might be bold, -presumptuous, or even unfeeling, in your brother's poor companion in -arms, becomes kind counsel and affectionate anxiety when urged by a -parent. Your father, lady, bade me say, that he had received a letter -from the common father of the Christian church, informing him that -your marriage with the noble king Philip was not, and could not be -valid, because----"</p> - -<p class="normal">"Spare the reasons, sir," said Agnes, with a calm voice, indeed, but -walking on, at the same time, with that increased rapidity of pace -which showed too well her internal agitation,--"spare the reasons, -sir! I have heard them before--Indeed, too, too often!--What said my -father, more?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"He said, madam, that as the pope assured him, on his apostolic truth, -that the marriage never could be rendered valid," continued the count; -"and farther, that the realm of France must be put in interdict--for -the interdict, madam, had not been then pronounced; and Celestin, a -far milder judge than the present, sat in the chair of St. Peter;--he -said, that as this was the case, and as the daughter of the duke of -Meranie was not formed to be an object of discord between a king and a -Christian prelate, he begged, and conjured, and commanded you to -withdraw yourself from an alliance that he now considered as -disgraceful as it had formerly appeared honourable; and to return to -your father's court, and the arms of your family, where, you well -know, he said, that domestic love and parental affection would -endeavour to wipe out from your heart the memory of disappointments -and sorrows brought on you by no fault of your own."</p> - -<p class="normal">"And such, indeed, was my father's command and message?" said the -queen, in a tone of deep affliction.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Such, indeed, it was, lady," replied the count D'Auvergne, "and he -bade me, farther, entreat and conjure you, by all that is dear and -sacred between parent and child, not to neglect his counsel and -disobey his commands. He said moreover that he knew----" and Thibalt -d'Auvergne's lip quivered as if the agony of death was struggling in -his heart--"he said that he knew how fondly you loved the noble king -your husband, and how hard it would be to tear yourself from him. But -he begged you to remember that your house's honour was at stake, and -not to shrink from your duty."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Sir count," said Agnes, in a voice that faltered with emotion, "he, -nor no one else, <i>can</i> tell how I love my husband--how deeply--how -fondly--how devotedly. Yet that should not stay me; for though I would -as soon tear out my heart, and trample it under my own feet, as quit -him, yet I would do it, if my honour and my duty bade me go. But my -honour and my duty bid me stay----" She paused, and thoughtfully -followed the direction of the walk, clasping her small hands together, -and bending down her eyes, as one whose mind, unaccustomed to decide -between contending arguments, is bewildered by number and reiteration, -but not convinced. She thus advanced some way in the turn towards the -castle, and then added--"Besides, even if I would, how could I quit -my husband's house and territories? How could I return to Istria -without his will?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"That difficulty, madam, I would smooth for you or die," replied the -count. "The troops of Auvergne could and should protect you."</p> - -<p class="normal">"The troops of Auvergne against Philip of France!" exclaimed Agnes, -raising her voice, while her eye flashed with an unwonted fire, and -her lip curled with a touch of scorn. "And doubtless the Count -d'Auvergne to head them, and defend the truant wife against her angry -husband!"</p> - -<p class="normal">"You do me wrong, lady," replied D'Auvergne calmly--"you do me wrong. -The Count d'Auvergne is boon for other lands. Nor would he do one act -for worlds, that could, even in the ill-judging eyes of men, cast a -shade over the fame and honour of one----" He paused, and broke off -his sentence, adding--"But no more of that--lady, you do me wrong. I -did but deem, that, accompanied by your own holy confessor, and what -other prelates or clergymen you would, a thousand of my armed -vassals might convey you safely to the court of your father, while I, -bound by a holy vow, should take shipping at Marseilles, and never set -my foot on shore till I might plant it on the burning sands of -Palestine.--Lady, may this be?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"No, lord count, no!"--replied Agnes, her indignation at any one -dreaming of opposing the god of her idolatry still unsubdued, "it -cannot, nor it must not be! Did I seek Istria at all, I would rather -don a pilgrim's weeds, and beg my way thither on foot. But I seek it -not, my lord--I never will seek it. Philip is my husband--France is my -land. The bishops of this realm have freed, by their united decree, -their king from all other engagement than that to me; and so long as -he himself shall look upon that engagement as valid, I will not doubt -its firmness and its truth."</p> - -<p class="normal">"I have then discharged me of my unpleasant duty, lady," said the -Count d'Auvergne. "My task is accomplished, and my promise to your -father fulfilled. Yet, that it may be well fulfilled, let me beg you -once again to think of your father's commands; and knowing the -nobleness of his nature, the clearness of his judgment, and the -fearless integrity of his heart, think if he would have urged you to -quit king Philip without he thought it your duty to do so."</p> - -<p class="normal">"He judged as a father; I judge as a wife," replied Agnes. "I love my -father--I would die for him; and, but to see him, I would sacrifice -crown, and dignity, and wealth. Yet, once for all, beau sire -d'Auvergne, urge me no more; for, notwithstanding all you can -say--notwithstanding my own feelings in this respect, I must not--I -cannot--I will not quit my husband. That name alone, <i>my husband</i>, -were enough to bind me to him by every duty, and I will never quit -him."</p> - -<p class="normal">D'Auvergne was silent; for he saw, by the flushed cheek and disturbed -look of Agnes de Meranie, that he had urged her as far as in honour -and courtesy he dared to go. They had by this time turned towards the -château, from which they beheld a page, habited in green, advancing -rapidly towards them.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Some one is coming. Count d'Auvergne," said Agnes hastily, fearful, -although her women were at a little distance behind, that any stranger -should see her discomposed look.--"Some one is coming,--Begone! Leave -me!" And seeing the count about to speak again, though it was but to -take his leave, she added--"Never let me hear of this again! Begone, -sir, I beg!"</p> - -<p class="normal">She then stooped down to trifle with some flowers, till such time as -the stranger should be gone, or her own cheek lose the heated flush -with which it was overspread.</p> - -<p class="normal">In the meanwhile, the Count d'Auvergne bowed low, and turned towards -the castle. Before he had reached it, however, he was encountered by -De Coucy's page, who put a paper in his hand, one glance of which made -him hasten forward; and passing directly through the hall of the -château, he issued out at the other gate. From thence he proceeded to -the lodging where he had passed the night before--called his retainers -suddenly together, mounted his horse, and rode away.</p> - -<p class="normal">As soon as he left her, Agnes de Meranie raised her head from the -flowers over which she had been stooping, and walked on slowly, -musing, towards the castle; while thought--that strange phantasmagoria -of the brain--presented to her a thousand vague and incoherent forms, -called up by the conversation that had just passed--plans, and fears, -and hopes, and doubts, crowding the undefined future; and memories, -regrets, and sorrows thronging equally the past. Fancy, the quick -wanderer, had travelled far in a single moment, when the sound of a -hasty step caught her ear, passing along under the trellis of vines -that skirted the garden wall. She could not see the figure of the -person that went by; but it needed not that she should. The sound of -that footfall was as well known to her ear as the most familiar -form to her eye; and, bending her head, she listened again, to be -sure--very sure.</p> - -<p class="normal">"'Tis Philip!" said she, all her other feelings forgotten, and hope -and joy sparkling again in her eye--"'tis Philip! He sees me not, and -yet he knows that at this hour it is my wont to walk here. But perhaps -'tis later than I thought. He is in haste too by his step. However, I -will in, with all speed, to meet him;" and, signing to her women to -come up, she hastened towards the castle.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Have you seen the king?" demanded she of a page, who hurried to open -the gates for her.</p> - -<p class="normal">"He has just passed, madam," replied the youth. "He seemed to go into -the great hall in haste, and is now speaking to the serjeants-at-arms. -You may hear his voice."</p> - -<p class="normal">"I do," said the queen; and proceeding to her apartments, she waited -for her husband's coming, with all that joyful hope that seemed -destined in this world as meet prey for disappointment.</p> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<h3>CHAPTER IX.</h3> -<br> - -<p class="continue">At Tours, we have seen De Coucy despatch his page towards the Count -d'Auvergne; and at Compiègne we have seen the same youth deliver a -letter to that nobleman. But we must here pause, to trace more -particularly the course of the messenger, which, in truth, was not -near so direct as at first may be imagined.</p> - -<p class="normal">There was, at the period referred to, a little hostelry in the town of -Château du Loir, which was neat and well-furnished enough for the time -it flourished in.<a name="div4Ref_21" href="#div4_21"><sup>[21]</sup></a> It had the most comfortable large hearth in the -world, which, in those days, was the next great excellence in a house -of general reception to that of having good wine, which always held -the first place; and round this--on each side of the fire, as well as -behind it--was a large stone seat, that might accommodate well fifteen -or sixteen persons on a cold evening. At the far corner of this -hearth, one night in the wane of September, when days are hot and -evenings are chilly, sat a fair youth of about eighteen years of age, -for whom the good hostess, an honest, ancient dame, that always prayed -God's blessing on a pair of rosy cheeks, was mulling some spiced wine, -to cheer him after a long and heavy day's riding.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Ah, now! I warrant thee," said the good lady, adjusting the wood -embers carefully round the little pipkin, on the top of which just -began to appear a slight creaming foam, promising a speedy conclusion -to her labours--"ay, now! I warrant thee, thou hast seen them all--the -fair lady Isadore, and pretty mistress Alice, the head maid, and -little Eleanor, with her blue eyes. Ha, sir page, you redden! I have -touched thee, child. God bless thee, boy! never blush to be in love. -Your betters have been so before thee; and I warrant little Eleanor -would blush too. God bless her, and St. Luke the apostate! Oh, bless -thee, my boy, I know them all! God wot they stayed here, master and -man, two days, while they were waiting for news from the king John; -and old Sir Julian himself vowed he was as well here as in the best -castle of France or England."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Well, well, dame! I have ridden hard back, at all events," replied -the page; "and I will make my horse's speed soon catch up, between -this and Paris, the day and a half I have lingered here; so that my -noble lord cannot blame me for loitering on his errand."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Tut, tut! He will never know a word," cried the old dame, applying to -the page that sort of consolatory assurance that our faults will rest -unknown, which has damned many a one, both man and woman, in this -world--"he will never know a word of it; and, if he did, he would -forgive it. Lord, Lord! being a knight, of course he is in love -himself; and knows what love is. God bless him, and all true knights! -I say."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Oh, in love--to be sure he is!" replied the page. "Bless thee, dame! -when we came all hot from the Holy Land, like loaves out of an oven, -my lord no sooner clapped his eyes upon the lady Isadore, than he was -in love up to the ears, as they say. Ay! and would ride as far to see -her, as I would to see little Eleanor. But tell me, dame, have you -staked the door as I asked you?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"Latch down, and bolt shot!" answered the old lady; "but what shouldst -thou fear, poor child? Thou art not of king John's friends, that I -well divine; but, bless thee! every one who has passed, this blessed -day, says they are moving the other way; though, in good troth, I have -no need to say God be thanked; for the heavy Normans, and the thirsty -English, would sit here and drink me pot after pot, and it mattered -not what wine I gave them--Loiret was as good as Beaugency. God bless -them all, and St. Luke the apostate! as I said. So what need'st thou -fear, boy?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"Why, I'll tell thee, good dame. If they caught me, and knew I was the -De Coucy's man, they would hang me up, for God's benison," said the -page; "and I narrowly escaped on the road too. Five mounted men, with -their arms covered with soldiers' mantles,--though they looked like -knights, and rode like knights too,--chased me for more than a mile. -They had a good score of archers at their backs; and I would have -dodged them across the country, but every little hill I came to, I saw -a body of horse on all sides, moving pace by pace with them. Full five -hundred men, I counted one way and another; and there might be five -hundred more, for aught I know."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Now, St. Barbara's toe nail to St. Luke's shoulder bone," exclaimed -the hostess, mingling somewhat strangely the relics which she was -accustomed to venerate with the profane wagers of the soldiery who -frequented her house--"now, St. Barbara's toe nail to St. Luke's -shoulder bone, that these are the men whom my lodger upstairs expected -to come to-night!"</p> - -<p class="normal">"What lodger?" cried the page anxiously. "Dame, dame, you told me, -this very morning, you had none!"</p> - -<p class="normal">"And I told you true, sir chit!" replied the old woman, bridling at -the tone of reproach the page adopted. "I told you true.--There, drink -your wine--it is well mulled now;--take care you do not split the -horn, pouring it in so hot.--I told you true enough--I had no lodger -this morning, when you went; but, half an hour after, came one who had -ridden all night, with a great <i>boutiau</i> at his saddle, that would -hold four quarts. Cursed be those <i>boutiaus!</i> they cut us vintners' -combs. Every man carries his wine with him, and never sets foot in a -hostelry but to feed his horse."</p> - -<p class="normal">"But the traveller!--the traveller!--Good dame, tell me," cried the -page, "what manner of man was he?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"A goodly man, i'faith," replied the landlady. "Taller than thou art, -sir page, by a hand's breadth. He had been in a fray, I warrant, for -his eye was covered over with a patch, and his nose broken across. He -too would fain not be seen, and made me put him in a guest-chamber at -the end of the dormitory. He calls himself Alberic, though that is -nothing to me or any one: and there was a Norman came to speak with -him an hour after he came; but that is nothing to me either."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Hark, dame! hark! I hear horses," cried the page, starting up in no -small trepidation, "Where can I hide me? Where?" and, even as he asked -the question, he began to climb the stairs, that came almost -perpendicularly down into the centre of the room, with all the -precipitation of fear.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Not there!--not there!" cried the old woman; "thou wilt meet that -Alberic. Into that cupboard;" and, seizing the page by the arm, she -pushed him into a closet filled with faggots and brushwood for -replenishing the kitchen fire. Under this heap he ensconced himself as -well as he might, paying no regard to the skin of his hands and face, -which was very sufficiently scratched in the operation of diving down -to the bottom of the pile. The old lady, who seemed quite familiar -with all such manœuvres, while the sound of approaching horses came -nearer and nearer, arranged what he had disarranged in his haste, sat -down by the fire, tossed off the remainder of the wine in the pipkin, -and began to spin quietly, while the horses' feet that had startled -the page clattered on through the village. In a moment after, they -stopped at the door; and, at the same time, a heavy footfall was heard -pacing forward above, as if some one, disturbed also by the sounds, -approached to listen at the head of the stairs.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Ho! Within there!" cried some person without, after having pushed the -door, and found it bolted.--"Ho! Within there! Open, I say."</p> - -<p class="normal">The old dame ran forward, taking care to make her feet give audible -sounds of haste upon the floor; and, instantly unfastening the door, -she stood becking and bowing to the strangers, as they dismounted from -their horses and entered the kitchen.</p> - -<p class="normal">"God save ye, fair sir!--God save ye, noble gentlemen. Welcome, -welcome!--Lord! Lord! I have not seen such a sight of noble faces -since good king John's army went. The blessing of God be upon him and -them! He is a right well favoured and kingly lord! Bless his noble -eyes, and his sweet low forehead, and send him plenty of crowns to put -upon it!"</p> - -<p class="normal">"How, dame! Dost thou know King John?" asked one of the strangers, -laying his hand upon the hostess's shoulders, with an air of kindly -familiarity. "But thou mistakest. I have heard he is villanous ugly. -Ha!"</p> - -<p class="normal">"Lord forgive you, sire, and St. Luke the apostate!" cried the old -woman. "He is the sweetest gentleman you ever set your eyes on. Many a -time have I seen him when the army was here; and so handsome he is! -Lord, Lord!"</p> - -<p class="normal">"Ha! methinks thou wouldst look handsomer thus, thyself," cried the -stranger, suddenly snatching off the old woman's quoif, and setting it -down again on her head with the wrong side in front. "So, my lovely -lass!" and he patted the high cap with the whole strength of his hand, -so as to flatten it completely. "So, so!"</p> - -<p class="normal">His four companions burst into a loud and applauding laugh, and were -proceeding to follow up his jest upon the old woman, when the other -stopped them at once, crying, "Enough, my masters! no more of it. Let -us to business. Guillaume de la Roche Guyon, you shall make love to -the old wench another time.--Now, beautiful lady!" he continued, -mocking the chivalrous speeches of the day. "Would those sweet lips -but deign to open the coral boundary of sound, and inform an unhappy -knight, who has this evening ridden five long leagues, whether one sir -Alberic, as he is pleased to call himself, lodges in your castle?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"Lord bless your noble and merry heart!" replied the old woman, -apparently not at all offended or discomposed by the accustomed gibes -of her guests. "How should I know sir Alberic? I never ask strangers' -names that do my poor hostel the honour of putting up at it. Not but -that I may have heard the name, and lately; but----"</p> - -<p class="normal">"But--hold thy peace, old woman!" said a voice from above. "These -persons want me, and I want them;" and down the staircase came no less -a person than our friend Jodelle, the captain of De Coucy's troop of -Brabançois. One eye indeed was covered with a patch; but this addition -to his countenance was probably assumed less as a concealment, than -for the purpose of covering the marks of a tremendous blow which we -may remember the knight had dealt him with the pommel of his sword; -and which, notwithstanding the patch, shone out in a large livid -swelling all round.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Tell me, dame," cried he, advancing to the hostess, before he -exchanged one word of salutation with the strangers, "who was it that -stopped at your gate half an hour ago on horseback, and where is he -gone? He was speaking with thee but now, for I heard two voices."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Lord bless you, sir, and St. Luke the apostate, to boot!" said the -old woman, "'twas but my nephew, poor boy; frightened out of his life, -because he said he had met with some of King Philip's horsemen on the -road. So he slipped away when he heard horses coming, and took his -beast round to the field to ride off without being noticed, because -being of the English party, King Philip would hang him if he caught -him."</p> - -<p class="normal">"King Philip's horsemen!" cried the first stranger, turning deadly -pale. "Whence did he come, good dame? What road did he travel, that he -saw King Philip's horsemen?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"He came from Flêche, fair sir," replied the hostess, "and he said -there were five of them chased him; and he saw many more scattered -about."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Oh, nonsense!" cried one of the other strangers. "'Tis the youth we -chased ourselves. He has taken us for Philip's men.--How was he -dressed, dame?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"In green, beau sire," replied the ready hostess. "He had a green -cassock on I am well nigh sure."</p> - -<p class="normal">"'Tis the same!--'tis the same!" said the stranger, who had asked the -last question.--"Be not afraid, beau sire," he added, speaking in a -low tone to the stranger who had entered first. "Philip is far enough; -and were he near, he should dine off the heads of lances, and quaff -red blood till he were drunk, ere he harmed a hair of your head. So, -be not afraid."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Afraid, sir!" replied the other, drawing himself up haughtily, now -re-assured by the certainty of the mistake concerning Philip's -horsemen. "How came you to suppose I am afraid?--Now, good fellow," he -continued, turning to Jodelle, "are you that Alberic that wrote a -billet this morning to the camp at----?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"By your leave, fair sir," interrupted Jodelle, "we will have a clear -coast.--Come, old woman, get thee out. We must be alone."</p> - -<p class="normal">"What! out of my own kitchen, sir?" cried the hostess. "That is hard -allowance, surely."</p> - -<p class="normal">"It must needs be so, however," answered Jodelle: "out at that door, -good dame! Thou shalt not be long on the other side;" and, very -unceremoniously taking the landlady by the arm, he put her out at the -door which opened on the street, and bolted it once more. "And now," -said he, "to see that no lurkers are about."</p> - -<p class="normal">So saying, he examined the different parts of the room, and then -opened the door of the closet, in which the poor page lay trembling -like an aspen leaf.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Brushwood!" said Jodelle, taking a candle from one of the iron -brackets that lighted the room, and advancing into the closet, he laid -his hand on one of the bundles, and rolled it over.</p> - -<p class="normal">The page, cringing into the space of a pigmy, escaped his sight, -however; and the roll of the fagot, instead of discovering him, -concealed him still better by falling down upon his head. But still -unsatisfied, the marauder drew his sword, and plunged it into the mass -of brushwood to make all sure.--There was in favour of the poor page's -life but the single chance of Jodelle's blade passing to the right or -left of him. Still, that chance was for him. The Brabançois' sword was -aimed a little on one side, and, leaving him uninjured, struck against -the wall. Jodelle sheathed it again, satisfied, and returned to the -strangers, the chief of whom had seated himself by the fire, and was, -with strange levity, moralising on the empty pipkin which had held the -mulled wine.</p> - -<p class="normal">His voice was sweet and melodious, and, though he evidently spoke in -mockery, one might discover in his speech those tones and accents that -lead and persuade.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Mark! Guillaume de la Roche," said he, "Mark! Pembroke, and you, sir -Alberic, mark well! for it may happen in your sinful life, that never -again shall you hear how eloquently a pipkin speaks to man. Look at -it, as I hold it now in my hand. No man amongst you would buy it at -half a denier; but fill it with glorious wine of Montrichard, and it -is worth ten times the sum. Man! man! thou art but a pipkin,--formed -of clay--baked in youth--used in manhood--broken in age. So long as -thou art filled with spirit, thou art valuable and ennobled; but the -moment the spirit is out, thou art but a lump of clay again. While -thou art full, men never abandon thee; but when thou art sucked empty, -they give thee up, and let thee drop as I do the pipkin;" and opening -his finger and thumb, he suffered it to fall on the floor, where it at -once dashed itself to pieces.</p> - -<p class="normal">"And now, sir Alberic," continued he, turning to Jodelle, "what the -devil do you want with me?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"Beau sire king," said Jodelle, bending his knee before the stranger, -"if you are indeed, as your words imply, John, king of England----"</p> - -<p class="normal">"I am but a pipkin!" interrupted the light king. "Alas! sir Alberic, -lam but a pipkin.--But proceed, proceed.--I am the king."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Well then, my lord," answered Jodelle, in truth, somewhat impatient -in his heart at the king's mockery, "as I was bold to tell you in my -letter, I have heard that your heart's best desire is to have under -your safe care and guidance your nephew, Arthur, duke of Brittany----"</p> - -<p class="normal">"Thou speakest right, fellow!" cried the King John, wakening to -animation at the thought. "'Tis my heart's dearest wish to have -him.--Where is the little rebel? Produce him! Have you got him here?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"Good God! my lord, you forget," said the Earl of Pembroke. "This fair -gentleman cannot be expected to carry your nephew about with him, like -a holy relic in a reliquary."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Or, a white mouse in a show-box," added Guillaume de la Roche Guyon, -laughing.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Good, good!" cried John, joining in the laugh.--"But come, sir -Alberic, speak plainly. Where is the white mouse? When wilt thou open -thy show-box? We have come ourselves, because thou wouldest deal with -none but us; therefore, now thou hast our presence, bear thyself -discreetly in it.--Come, when wilt thou open the box, I pray?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"When it pleases you to pay the poor showman his price?" said Jodelle, -bowing low and standing calmly before the king, in the attitude of one -who knows that, for the moment at least, he commands, where he seems -to be commanded; and that his demands, however exorbitant, must be -complied with.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Ha!" said John, knitting his brows; "I had forgot that there is not -one man on all the earth who has not his price.--Pray, what is thine, -fellow?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"I am very moderate, beau sire," replied Jodelle, with the most -imperturbable composure, "very moderate in regard to what I sell. -Would you know, my lord king, what I demand for placing your nephew -Arthur in your hands, with all those who are now assisting him to -besiege the queen, your mother, in her château of Mirebeau?--'Tis a -worthy deed, and merits some small recompence."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Speak, speak, man!" cried the king impatiently. "Go not round and -round the matter. Speak it out plainly. What sum dost thou ask?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"Marry! my lord, there must go more than sums to the bargain," replied -Jodelle boldly. "But if you would know justly what I do demand, 'tis -this. First, you shall pay me down, or give me here an order on your -royal treasure for the sum of ten thousand marks in what coin you -will."</p> - -<p class="normal">"By the Lord, and the Holy Evangelists!" cried the king; but, then -pausing, he added, while he turned a half smiling glance to Lord -Pembroke:--"Well, thou shalt have the order on the royal treasury. -What next?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"After you have given me the order, sire," replied Jodelle, answering -the meaning of the king's smile, "I will find means to wring the money -out of your friends, or out of your enemies, even should your treasure -be as dry as hay."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Try my enemies first, good Alberic," said the king; "my friends have -enough to do already.--But what next? for you put that firstly, if I -forget not."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Next, you must give me commission, under your royal signet, to raise -for your use, and at your expense, one thousand free lances," replied -Jodelle stoutly, "engaged to serve you for the space of ten years. -Moreover, I must have annually half the pay of Mercader; and you must -consent to dub me knight with your royal hand."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Knight!" cried the Earl of Pembroke, turning fiercely upon him.--"By -the Lord! if the king do dub so mean and pitiful a traitor, I will -either make the day of your dubbing the last of your life; or I will -have my own scullion strike off my own spurs, as a dishonour to my -heels, when such a villain wears the same."</p> - -<p class="normal">"When those spurs <i>are</i> on, Lord Pembroke," replied Jodelle boldly, -"thou shalt not want one to meet thee, and give thee back scorn for -scorn. Till then, meddle with what concerns thee, and mar not the -king's success with thy scolding."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Peace, Pembroke! peace!" cried King John, seeing his hasty peer about -to make angry answer. "Who dare interfere where my will speaks?--And -now tell me, fellow Alberic," he added with an air of dignity he could -sometimes assume, "suppose that we refuse thine exacting demands--what -follows then?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"Why, that I betake myself to my beast's back, and ride away as I -came," answered Jodelle undisturbedly.</p> - -<p class="normal">"But suppose we do not let thee go," continued the king; "and farther, -suppose we hang thee up to the elm before the door."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Then you will have broken a king's honour to win a dead carcase," -answered the Brabançois; "for nothing shall you ever know from me that -may stead you in your purpose."</p> - -<p class="normal">"But we have tortures, sir, would almost make the dead speak," -rejoined King John. "Such, at least, as would make thee wish thyself -dead a thousand times, ere death came to thy relief."</p> - -<p class="normal">"I doubt thee not, sir king," answered Jodelle, with the same -determined tone and manner in which he had heretofore spoken--"I doubt -thee not; and, as I pretend to no more love for tortures than my -neighbours, 'tis more than likely I should tell thee all I could tell, -before the thumbscrew had taken half a turn; but it would avail thee -nothing, for nought that I could tell thee would make my men withdraw -till they have me amongst them; and, until they be withdrawn, you may -as well try to surprise the sun of heaven, guarded by all his rays, as -catch Prince Arthur and Guy de Coucy."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Why wouldst thou not come to the camp, then?" demanded John. "If thou -wert so secure, why camest thou not when I sent for thee?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"Because, King John, I once served your brother Richard," replied the -Brabançois, "and during that time I made me so many dear friends in -Mercader's band, that I thought, if I came to visit them, without two -or three hundred men at my back, they might, out of pure love, give me -a banquet of cold steel, and lodging with our lady mother,--the -earth."</p> - -<p class="normal">"The fellow jests, lords! On my soul! the fellow jests!" cried -John.--"Get thee back, sirrah, a step or two; and let me consult with -my nobles," he added.--"Look to him, Pembroke, that he escape not."</p> - -<p class="normal">John then spoke for several minutes with the gentlemen who had -attended him to this extraordinary meeting; and the conversation, -though carried on in a low tone, seemed in no slight degree -animated; more especially on the part of Lord Pembroke, who frequently -spoke loud enough for such words to be heard as "disgrace to -chivalry--disgust the barons of England--would not submit to have -their order degraded," &c.</p> - -<p class="normal">At length, however, a moment of greater calm succeeded; and John, -beckoning the coterel forward, spoke to him thus:--</p> - -<p class="normal">"Our determination is taken, good fellow, and thou shall subscribe to -it, or not, as thou wilt. First, we will give thee the order upon our -treasury for the ten thousand marks of silver; always provided, that -within ten days' time, the body of Arthur Plantagenet is by thy means -placed in our hands--living--or dead," added the king, with a fearful -emphasis on the last word. At the same time he contracted his brows, -and though his eyes still remained fixed upon Jodelle, he half-closed -the eyelids over them, as if he considered his own countenance as a -mask through which his soul could gaze out without being seen, while -he insinuated what he was afraid or ashamed to proclaim openly.</p> - -<p class="normal">Lord Pembroke gave a meaning glance to another nobleman who stood -behind the king; and who slightly raised his shoulder and drew down -the corner of his mouth as a reply, while the king proceeded:--</p> - -<p class="normal">"We will grant thee also, on the same condition, that which thou -demandest in regard to raising a band of Brabançois, and serving as -their commander, together with all the matter of pay, and whatever -else you have mentioned on that head; but as to creating thee a -knight, 'tis what we will not, nor cannot do, at least, for service of -this kind. If you like the terms, well!" concluded the king; "if not, -there stands an elm at the door, as we have before said, which would -form as cool and shady a dangling place, as a man could wish to hang -on in a September's day."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Nay, I have no wish of the kind," replied the Brabançois: "if I must -hang on any thing, let it be a king, not a stump of timber. I will not -drive my bargain hard, sir king. Sign me the papers now, with all the -conditions you mention; and when I am your servant, I will do you such -good service, that yon proud lord, who now stands in the way of my -knighthood, shall own I deserve it as well as himself."</p> - -<p class="normal">The Earl of Pembroke gave him a glance of scorn, but replied not to -his boast; and writing materials having been procured from some of the -attendants without--the whole house being by this time surrounded with -armed men, who had been commanded to follow the king by different -roads--the papers were drawn up, and signed by the king.</p> - -<p class="normal">"And now, my lord," said Jodelle, with the boldness of a man who can -render needful service, "look upon Prince Arthur as your own. Advance -with all speed upon Mirebeau. When you are within five leagues, halt -till night. Arthur, with the hogs of Poitou, is kinging it in the -town. De Coucy sleeps by his watch-fire under the castle mound. My men -keep the watch on this side of the town. Let your troops advance -quietly in the dark, giving the word <i>Jodelle</i>, and, without sign or -signal, my free fellows shall retire before you, till you are in the -very heart of the place. Arthur, with his best knights, sleeps at the -prévôt's house; surround that, and you have them all, without drawing -a sword.--Love you the plan?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"By my crown and honour!" cried the king, his eyes sparkling with -delight, "if the plan be as well executed as it is devised, thou wilt -merit a diamond worth a thousand marks, to weigh your silver down. -Count upon me, good Alberic! as your best friend through life, if thy -plot succeeds. Count on me, Alberic----"</p> - -<p class="normal">"Jodelle! for the future, so please you, sire," replied the coterel; -"Alberic was but assumed:--and now, my lord, I will to horse and away; -for I must put twenty long leagues between me and this place before -the dawn of to-morrow."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Speed you well!--speed you well, good Jodelle!" replied the king, -rising: "I will away too, to move forward on Mirebeau, like an eagle -to his prey. Come, lords! to horse!--Count on me, good Jodelle!" he -repeated, as he put his foot in the stirrup, and turned away, "count -on me--to hang you as high as the crow builds," he muttered to himself -as he galloped off--"ay, count on me for that! Well; lords, what think -you of our night's work?--By Heaven! our enemies are in our hands! We -have but to do, as I have seen a child catch flies,--sweep the board -with our palm, and we grasp them all."</p> - -<p class="normal">"True, my lord," replied the Earl of Pembroke, who had been speaking -in a low voice with some of the other followers of the prince. "But -there are several things to be considered first."</p> - -<p class="normal">"How to be considered, sir?" demanded King John, somewhat checking his -horse's pace with an impatient start. "What is it now?--for I know by -that word, <i>considered</i>, that there is some rebellion to my will, -toward."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Not so, sire," replied the Earl of Pembroke firmly; "but the barons -of England, my liege, have to remember that, by direct line of -descent, Arthur Plantagenet was the clear heir to Richard Cœur de -Lion. Now, though there wants not reason or example to show that we -have a right to choose from the royal family which member we think -most fit to bear the sceptre; yet we so far respect the blood of our -kings, and so far feel for the generous ardour of a noble youth who -seeks but to regain a kingdom which he deems his of right, that we -will not march against Arthur Plantagenet, without you, sire, will -promise to moderate your wrath towards him, to confirm him in his -dukedom of Brittany, and to refrain from placing either your nephew, -or any of his followers, in any strong place or prison, on pretext of -guarding them."</p> - -<p class="normal">John was silent for a long space, for his habitual dissimulation could -hardly master the rage that struggled in his bosom. It conquered at -last, however, and its triumph was complete.</p> - -<p class="normal">"I will own, I am grieved, Lord Pembroke," said he, in a hurt and -sorrowful tone, "to think that my good English barons should so far -doubt their king, as to approach the very verge of rebellion and -disobedience, to obtain what he could never have a thought of denying. -The promises you require I give you, as freely and as willingly as you -could ask them; and if I fail to keep them in word and deed, let my -orders be no longer obeyed; let my sceptre be broken, my crown torn -from my head, and let me, by peer and peasant, be no longer regarded -as a king."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Thanks! my lord! thanks!" cried Lord Bagot and one or two of the -other barons, who followed. "You are a free and noble sovereign, and a -right loyal and excellent king. We thank you well for your free -promise and accord."</p> - -<p class="normal">Lord Pembroke was silent. He knew John profoundly, and he had never -seen promises steadily kept, which had been so easily obtained.</p> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<h3>CHAPTER X.</h3> -<br> - -<p class="continue">"Now, good dame, the reckoning," cried Jodelle, as soon as King John -was gone.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Good dame not me!" cried the hostess, forgetting, in her indignation -at having been put out of her own kitchen, and kept for half an hour -in the street amid soldiers and horseboys, all her habitual and -universal civility. It might be shown by a learned dissertation, that -there are particular points of pride in every human heart, of so -inflammable a nature, that though we may bear insult and injury, -attack and affront, upon every other subject, with the most forbearing -consideration of our self-interest, yet but touch one of those points -with the very tip of the brand of scorn, and the whole place is in a -blaze in a moment, at the risk of burning the house down. But time is -wanting; therefore, suffice it to say, that the landlady, who could -bear, and had in her day borne all that woman can bear, was so -indignant at being put from her own door--that strong hold of an -innkeeper's heart, where he sees thousands arrive and depart without -stirring a foot himself--that she vituperated the worthy Brabançois -thereupon, somewhat more than his patience would endure.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Come, come, old woman!" cried he, "an' thou will not name thy -reckoning, no reckoning shalt thou have. I am not one of those who -often pay either for man's food or horse provender, so I shall take my -beast from the stall and set out."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Nay, nay!" she said, more fearful of Jodelle discovering the page's -horse still in the stable, than even of losing her reckoning--"nay! it -should not be said that any one, however uncivil, was obliged to fetch -his own horse. She had a boy for her stable, God wot!--Ho! boy!" she -continued, screaming from the door, "bring up the bay horse for the -gentleman. Quick!--As to the reckoning, sir, it comes only to a matter -of six sous."</p> - -<p class="normal">The reckoning was paid, and before Jodelle could reach the stable to -which he was proceeding, notwithstanding the landlady's remonstrance, -his horse was brought up, whereupon he mounted, and set off at full -speed.</p> - -<p class="normal">The moment the clatter of his horse's feet had passed away, the pile -of fagots and brushwood rolled into the middle of the floor, and the -half-suffocated page sprang out of his place of concealment. His face -and hands were scratched and torn, and his dress was soiled to that -degree, that the old lady could not refrain from laughing, till she -saw the deadly paleness of his countenance.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Get me a stoup of wine, good dame--get me a stoup of wine--I am faint -and sad--get me some wine!" cried the youth. "Alack! that I, and no -other, should have heard what I have heard!"</p> - -<p class="normal">The old lady turned away to obey, and the page, casting himself on a -settle before the fire, pressed his clasped hands between his knees, -and sat gazing on the embers, with a bewildered and horrified stare, -in which both fear and uncertainty had no small part.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Good God! what shall I do?" cried he at length. "If I go back to Sir -Guy, and tell him that, though he ordered me to make all speed to the -Count d'Auvergne, I turned out of my way to see Eleanor, because the -pedlar told me she was at La Flêche, he will surely cleave my skull -with his battle-axe for neglecting the duty on which he sent me." And -an aguish trembling seized the poor youth, as he thought of presenting -himself to so dreadful a fate.</p> - -<p class="normal">"And if I go not," added he thoughtfully, "what will be the -consequence? The triumph of a traitor--the destruction of my brave and -noble master--the ruin of the prince's enterprise. I will go. Let him -do his worst--I will go. Little Eleanor can but lose her lover; and -doubtless she will soon get another--and she will forget me, and be -happy, I dare say;" and the tears filled his eyes, between emotion at -the heroism of his own resolution, and the painful images his fancy -called up, while thinking of her he loved. "But I will go," he -continued--"I will go. He may kill me if he will; but I will save his -life, at least.--Come, good dame! give me the wine!"</p> - -<p class="normal">The poor page set the flagon to his lips, believing, like many another -man, that if truth lies in a well, courage and resolution make their -abode in a tankard. In the present instance, he found it marvellous -true; and within a few minutes his determination was so greatly -fortified, that he repeated the experiment, and soon drank himself -into a hero.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Now, good dame!--now, I will go!" cried he. "Bid thy boy bring me my -horse. And thank God, all your days, for putting me in that closet; -for owing to that, one of the most diabolical schemes shall be -thwarted that ever the devil himself helped to fabricate."</p> - -<p class="normal">"The Lord be praised! and St. Luke and St. Martin the apostates!" -cried the hostess; "and their blessing be upon your handsome -face!--Your reckoning comes to nine sous, beau sire, which is cheap -enough in all conscience, seeing I have nourished you as if you were -my own son, and hid you in the cupboard as if you were my own -brother."</p> - -<p class="normal">The page did not examine very strictly the landlady's accounts; -though, be it remarked, nine sous was in that day no inconsiderable -sum; but, having partaken freely of the thousand marks which De Coucy -had received before leaving Paris, he dispensed his money with the -boyish liberality that too often leaves us with our very early years.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Allons!" cried he, springing on his horse, "I will go, let what may -come of it. Which way do I turn, dame, to reach Mirebeau?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"To the left, beau page,--to the left!" replied the old woman. "But, -Lord-a-mercy on thy sweet heart! 'tis a far way. Take the second road, -that branches to the right, sir page," she screamed after him; "and -then, where it separates again, keep to the left." But long ere she -had concluded her directions, the youth was far out of hearing.</p> - -<p class="normal">He rode on, and he rode on; and when the morning dawned, he found -himself, with a weary horse and a sad heart, still in the sweet plains -of bright Touraine. The world looked all gay and happy in the early -light. There was a voice of rejoicing in the air, and a smile in the -whole prospect, which went not well in harmony with the feelings of -the poor youth's heart. Absorbed in his own griefs, and little knowing -the universality of care, as he looked upon the merry sunshine -streaming over the slopes and woods which laughed and sparkled in the -rays, he fancied himself the only sorrowful thing in nature; and when -he heard the clear-voiced lark rise upon her quivering wings, and fill -the sky with her carolling, he dropped his bridle upon his horse's -neck, and clasped his hand over his eyes. He was going, he thought, to -give himself up to death;--to quit the sunshine, and the light, and -the hopes of youth, and the enjoyments of fresh existence, for the -cold charnel,--the dark, heavy grave,--the still, rigid, feelingless -torpor of the dead!</p> - -<p class="normal">Did his resolution waver? Did he ever dream of letting fate have its -course with his lord and his enterprise, and, imitating the lark, to -wing his flight afar, and leave care behind him? He did! He did, -indeed, more than once; and the temptation was the stronger, as his -secret would ever rest with himself--as neither punishment nor -dishonour could ever follow, and as the upbraiding voice of conscience -was all that he had to fear. The better spirit, however, of the -chivalrous age came to his aid--that generous principle of -self-devotion--that constantly inculcated contempt of life, where -opposed to honour, which raised the ancient knight to a pitch of glory -that the most calculating wisdom could never obtain, had its effect -even in the bosom of the page; and, though never doubting that death -would be the punishment of his want of obedience and discipline, he -still went on to save his master and accuse himself.</p> - -<p class="normal">It was not long, however, before the means presented itself, as he -thought, of both sparing the confession, and circumventing the -villanous designs of the Brabançois. As he rode slowly into a little -village, about eight o'clock in the morning, he saw a horse tied to -the lintel of a door, by the way-side, which he instantly recognised -as Jodelle's, and he thanked St. Martin of Tours, as if this rencontre -was a chance peculiarly of that saint's contriving. The plan of the -page smacked strongly of the thirteenth century. "Here is the -villain," said he, "refreshing at that house after his night's ride. -Now, may the blessed St. Martin never be good to me again, if I do not -attack him the moment he comes forth; and though he be a strong man, -and twice as old as I am, I have encountered many a Saracen in the -Holy Land, and, with God's blessing, I will kill the traitor, and so -stop him in his enterprise. Then may I ride on merrily, to seek the -count d'Auvergne, and never mention a word of this plot of theirs, or -of my own playing truant either."</p> - -<p class="normal">Ermold de Marcy--for so was the page called--had a stout heart in all -matters of simple battle, as ever entered a listed field; and had -Jodelle been ten times as renowned a person as he was, Ermold would -have attacked him without fear, though his whole heart sunk at the -bare idea of offering himself to De Coucy's battle-ax; so different is -the prospect of contention, in which death may ensue, from the -prospect of death itself.</p> - -<p class="normal">Quietly moderating his horse's progress to the slowest possible pace, -lest the noise of his hoofs should call Jodelle's attention, he -advanced to the same cottage; and, not to take his adversary at an -unjust disadvantage, he dismounted, and tied his beast to a post hard -by. He then brought round his sword ready to his hand, loosened his -dagger in the sheath, and went on towards the door; but, at that -moment, the loud neighing of the Brabançois' courser, excited by the -proximity of his fellow quadruped, called Jodelle himself to the door.</p> - -<p class="normal">The instant he appeared, Ermold, without more ado, rushed upon him, -and, striking him with his clenched fist exclaimed, "You are a -villain!" Then springing back into the middle of the road, to give his -antagonist free space, he drew his sword with one hand, and his dagger -with the other, and waited his approach.</p> - -<p class="normal">For his part, Jodelle, who at once recognised De Coucy's attendant, -had no difficulty in deciding on the course he had to pursue. The page -evidently suspected him of something, though of what, Jodelle of -course could not be fully aware. De Coucy believed him (as he had -taken care to give out) to be lying wounded in one of the houses of -Mirebeau. If the page then ever reached Mirebeau, his treachery would -be instantly discovered, and his enterprise consequently fail. It -therefore followed, that without a moment's hesitation, it became -quite as much Jodelle's determination to put the page to death, as it -was Ermold's to bestow the same fate on him; and, with this sanguinary -resolution on both sides, they instantly closed in mortal conflict.</p> - -<p class="normal">Although, on the first view, such a struggle between a youth of -eighteen and a vigorous man of five-and-thirty would seem most -unequal, and completely in favour of the latter; yet such was not -entirely the case. Having served as page since a very early age, with -so renowned a knight as Guy de Coucy, Ermold de Marcy had acquired not -only a complete knowledge of the science of arms, but also that -dexterity and agility in their use, which nothing but practice can -give.</p> - -<p class="normal">Practice also certainly Jodelle did not want; but Ermold's had been -gained in the Holy Land, where the exquisite address of the Saracens -in the use of the scymitar had necessitated additional study and -exercise of the sword amongst the crusaders and their followers.</p> - -<p class="normal">Ermold also was as active as the wind, and this fully compensated the -want of Jodelle's masculine strength. But the Brabançois had -unfortunately in his favour the advantage of armour, being covered -with a light haubert,<a name="div4Ref_22" href="#div4_22"><sup>[22]</sup></a> which yielded to all the motions of his -body, and with a steel bonnet, which defended his head; while the poor -page had nothing but his green tunic, and his velvet cap and feather. -It was in vain, therefore, that he exerted his skill and activity in -dealing two blows for every one of his adversary's; the only -accessible part of Jodelle's person was his face, and that he took -sufficient care to guard against attack.</p> - -<p class="normal">The noise of clashing weapons brought the villagers to their doors; -but such things were too common in those days, and interference -therein was too dangerous an essay for any one to meddle; though some -of the women cried out upon the strong man in armour, for drawing on -the youth in the green cassock.</p> - -<p class="normal">Ermold was nothing daunted by the disadvantage under which he -laboured; and after having struck at Jodelle's face, and parried all -his blows, with admirable perseverance, for some minutes, he actually -meditated running in upon the Brabançois; confident that if he could -but get one fair blow at his throat, the combat would be at an end.</p> - -<p class="normal">At that moment, however, it was interrupted in a different manner; for -a party of horsemen, galloping up into the village, came suddenly upon -the combatants, and thrusting a lance between them, separated them for -the time.</p> - -<p class="normal">"How now, masters! how now!" cried the leader of the party, in rank -Norman-French. "Which is France, and which is England?--But fight -fair! fight fair, i' God's name!--not a man against a boy,--not a -steel haubert against a cloth jerkin. Take hold of them, Robin, and -bring them in here. I will judge their quarrel."</p> - -<p class="normal">So saying, the English knight, for such he was who spoke, dismounted -from his horse, and entered the very cottage from which Jodelle had -issued a few minutes before. It seemed to be known as a place of -entertainment, though no sign nor inscription announced the calling of -its owner; and the knight, who bore the rough weather-beaten face of -an old bluff soldier, sat himself down in a settle, and leaning his -elbow on the table, began to interrogate Ermold and the Brabançois, -who were brought before him as he had commanded.</p> - -<p class="normal">"And now, sir, with the haubert," said he, addressing Jodelle, -apparently with that sort of instinctive antipathy, that the good -sometimes feel, they scarce know why, towards the bad, "how came you, -dressed in a coat of iron, to draw your weapon upon a beardless youth, -with nothing to guard his limbs from your blows?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"Though I deny your right to question me," replied Jodelle, "I will -tell you, to make the matter short, that I drew upon him because he -drew on me in the first place; but still more, because he is an enemy -to my lord, the king of England."</p> - -<p class="normal">"But thou art no Englishman, nor Norman either," replied the knight. -"Thy tongue betrays thee. I have borne arms here, these fifty years, -from boyhood to old age, and I know every jargon that is spoken in the -king's dominions, from Rouen to the mountains; and thou speakest none. -Thou art a Frenchman, of Provence, or thine accent lies."</p> - -<p class="normal">"I may be a Frenchman, and yet serve the king of England," replied -Jodelle boldly.</p> - -<p class="normal">"God send him better servants than thou art, then!" replied the old -knight.--"Well, boy, what sayest thou? Nay, look not sad, for that -matter. We will not hurt thee, lad."</p> - -<p class="normal">"You will hurt me, and you do hurt me," answered Ermold, "if you hold -me here, and do not let me either cut out that villain's heart, or on -to tell my lord that he is betrayed."</p> - -<p class="normal">"And who is thy lord, boy?" demanded the knight, "English or -French?--and what is his name?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"French!" answered Ermold boldly; and with earnest pride he added, "he -is the noble Sir Guy de Coucy."</p> - -<p class="normal">"A good knight!--a good knight!" said the Englishman. "I have heard -the heralds tell of him. A crusader too--young, they say, but very -bold, and full of noble prowess: I should like to splinter a lance -with him, in faith!"</p> - -<p class="normal">"You need not baulk your liking, sir knight," answered the page at -once: "my master will meet you on horseback, or on foot, with what -arms you will, and when:--give me but a glove to bear him as a gage, -and you shall not be long without seeing him."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Thou bearest thee like the page of such a knight," replied the -Englishman; "and in good truth, I have a mind to pleasure thee," he -added, drawing off one of his gauntlets, as if about to send it to De -Coucy; but whether such was his first intention or not, his farther -determinations were changed by Jodelle demanding abruptly--"Know you -the signature of king John, sir knight?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"Surely! somewhat better than my own," answered the other,--"somewhat -better than my own, which I have not seen for these forty years; and -which, please God! I shall never see again; for my last will and -testament, which was drawn by the holy clerk of St. Anne's, two years -and a half come St. Michael's, was stamped with my sword pommel, -seeing that I had forgot how to write one half the letters of my name, -and the others were not readable.--But as to the king's, I'd swear to -<i>it</i>."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Well then," said Jodelle, laying a written paper before him, "you -must know that; and by that name I require you not only to let me pass -free, but to keep yon youth prisoner, as an enemy to the king."</p> - -<p class="normal">"'Tis sure enough the king's name, in his own writing; and there is -the great seal too," said the old knight. "This will serve your turn, -sir, as far as going away yourself,--but as to keeping the youth, I -know nothing of that. The paper says nothing of that, as far as I can -see."</p> - -<p class="normal">"No; it does not," said Jodelle; "but still----"</p> - -<p class="normal">"Oh, it does not, does not it?" said the Englishman, giving back the -paper. "Thank you at least for that admission; for, as to what the -paper says, may I be confounded if I can read a word of it."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Listen to me, however," said Jodelle; and approaching close to the -English knight, he whispered a few words in his ear.</p> - -<p class="normal">The old man listened for a moment, with a grave and attentive face, -bending his head and inclining his ear to the Brabançois' -communication. Then suddenly he turned round, and eyed him from head -to foot with a glance of severe scorn. "Open the door!" cried he to -his men loudly--"open the door! By God, I shall be suffocated!--I -never was in a small room with such a damned rascal in my life before. -Let him pass! let him pass! and keep out of the way--take care his -clothes do not touch you--it may be contagious; and, by the Lord! I -would sooner catch the plague than such villany as he is tainted -withal."</p> - -<p class="normal">While surprised, and at first scarce grasping their leader's meaning, -the English troopers drew back from the Brabançois' path, as if he had -been really a leper, Jodelle strode to the door of the cottage, -smothering the wrath he dared not vent. On the threshold, however, he -paused; and, turning towards the old soldier as if he would speak, -glared on him for a moment with the glance of a wounded tiger; but, -whether he could find no words equal to convey the virulence of his -passion, or whether prudence triumphed over anger, cannot be told, but -he broke suddenly away, and catching his horse's bridle, sprang into -the saddle, and rode off at full speed.</p> - -<p class="normal">"I am afraid I must keep thee, poor youth," said the old knight,--"I am -afraid I must keep thee, whether I will or no. I should be blamed if I -let thee go; though, on my knightly honour, 'tis cursed hard to be -obliged to keep a good honest youth like thee, and let a slave like -that go free! Nevertheless, you must stay here; and if you try to make -your escape, I do not know what I must do to thee. Robin," he -continued, turning to one of his men-at-arms, "put him into the back -chamber that looks upon the lane, and keep a good guard over him, -while I go on to the other village to see that lord Pembroke's -quarters be prepared:--and hark ye," he added, speaking in a lower -voice, "leave the window open, and tie his horse under it, and there is -a gros Tournois for thee to drink the king's health with the villagers -and the other soldiers. Do you understand?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"Ay, sir! ay!" answered the man-at-arms, "I understand, and will take -care that your worship's commands be obeyed."</p> - -<p class="normal">"'Tis a good youth," said the old knight, "and a bold, and the other -was nothing but a pitiful villain, that will be hanged yet, if there -be a tree in France to hang him on. Now, though I might be blamed if I -let this lad go, and John might call me a hard-headed old fool, as -once he did; yet I don't know, Robin,--I don't know whether in -knightly honour I should keep the true man prisoner and let the -traitor go free--I don't know Robin,--I don't know!"</p> - -<p class="normal">So saying, the good old soldier strode to the door; and the man he -called Robin took poor Ermold into a small room at the back of the -house, where he opened the window, saying something about not wishing -to stifle him, and then left him, fastening the door on the other -side.</p> - -<p class="normal">The poor page, however, bewildered with disappointment and distress, -and stupified with fatigue and want of sleep, had only heard the -charge to guard him safely, without the after whisper, which -neutralised that command; and, never dreaming that escape was -possible, he sat down on the end of a truckle bed that occupied the -greater part of the chamber, and gave himself up to his own melancholy -thoughts. He once, indeed, thought of looking from the window, with a -vague idea of freeing himself; but as he was about to proceed thither, -the sound of a soldier whistling, together with a horse's footsteps, -convinced him that a guard was stationed there, and he abandoned his -purpose. In this state he remained till grief and weariness proved too -heavy for his young eyelids, and he fell asleep.</p> - -<p class="normal">In the meanwhile, the old knight, after being absent for more than -three hours, returned to the village, which he had apparently often -frequented before, and riding up to his man Robin, who was drinking -with some peasants in the market-place, his first question was, "Where -is the prisoner, Robin? I hope he has not escaped;" while a shrewd -smile very potently contradicted the exact meaning of his words.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Escaped!" exclaimed Robin: "God bless your worship! he cannot have -escaped, without he got out of the window! for I left five men -drinking in the front room."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Let us see, Robin,--let us see!" said the old man. "Nothing like -making sure, good Robin;" and he spurred on to the cottage, sprang -from his horse like a lad; and, casting the bridle to one of his men, -passed through the front room to that where poor Ermold was confined.</p> - -<p class="normal">Whatever had been his expectations, when he saw him sitting on the -bed, just opening his heavy eyes at the sound of his approach, he -could not restrain a slight movement of impatience. "The boy's a -fool!" muttered he,--"the boy's a fool!" But then, recovering himself, -he shut the door, and, advancing to the page, he said,--"I am right -glad, thou hast not tried to escape, my boy,--thou art a good lad and -a patient; but if ever thou shouldst escape, while under my custody, -for 'tis impossible to guard every point, remember to do my greeting -to your lord, and tell him that I, Sir Arthur of Oakingham, will be -glad to splinter a lance with him, in all love and courtesy."</p> - -<p class="normal">The page opened his eyes wide, as if he could scarce believe what he -heard.</p> - -<p class="normal">"If he does not understand that," said the old man to himself, "he is -a natural fool!" But to make all sure, he went to the narrow window, -and leaning out, after whistling for a minute, he asked,--"Is that -your horse? 'Tis a bonny beast, and a swift, doubtless.--Well, sir -page, fare thee well!" he added: "in an hour's time I will send thee a -stoup of wine, to cheer thee!" and, without more ado, he turned, and -left the room once more, bolting the door behind him.</p> - -<p class="normal">Ermold stood for a moment, as if surprise had benumbed his sinews; but -'twas only for a moment! for then, springing towards the casement, he -looked out well on each side, thrust himself through, without much -care either of his dress or his person; and, springing to the ground, -was in an instant on his horse's back, and galloping away over the -wide, uninclosed country, like Tam o'Shanter with all the witches -behind him.</p> - -<p class="normal">For long he rode on, without daring to look behind; but when he did -so, he found that he was certainly unpursued; and proceeded, with -somewhat of a slackened pace, in order to save his horse's strength. -At the first cottage he came to, he inquired for Mirebeau; but by the -utter ignorance of the serfs that inhabited it, even of the name of -such a place, he found that he must be rather going away from the -object of his journey than approaching it. At the castles he did not -dare to ask; for the barons of that part of the country were so -divided between the two parties, that he would have thereby run fully -as much chance of being detained as directed. At length, however, as -the sun began to decline, he encountered a countrywoman, who gave him -some more correct information; but told him at the same time, that it -would be midnight before he reached the place he sought.</p> - -<p class="normal">Ermold went on undauntedly; and only stopped for half an hour, to -refresh his horse when the weary beast could hardly move its limbs. -Still he was destined to be once more turned from his path; for, at -the moment the sun was just going down, he beheld from the top of one -of the hills, a large body of cavalry moving on in the valley below; -and the banners and ensigns which flaunted in the horizontal rays, -left no doubt that they were English.</p> - -<p class="normal">The page was of course obliged to change his direction; but as a fine -starry night came on, he proceeded with greater ease; for the woman's -direction had been to keep due south, and in Palestine he had learned -to travel by the stars. A thousand difficulties still opposed -themselves to his way--a thousand times his horse's weariness obliged -him to halt; but he suffered not his courage to be shaken; and, at -last, he triumphed over all. As day began to break, he heard the -ringing of a large church bell, and in ten minutes he stood upon the -heights above Mirebeau. Banners, and pennons, and streamers were -dancing in the vale below; and for a moment the page paused, and -glanced his eyes over the whole scene. As he did so, he turned as pale -as death; and, suddenly drawing his rein, he wheeled to the right, and -rode away in another direction, as fast as his weary horse would bear -him.</p> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<h3>CHAPTER XI.</h3> -<br> - -<p class="continue">We seldom, in life, find ourselves more unpleasantly situated, than -when, as is often the case, our fate and happiness are staked upon an -enterprise in which many other persons are joined, whose errors or -negligences counteract all our best endeavours, and whose conduct, -however much we disapprove, we cannot command.</p> - -<p class="normal">Such was precisely the case with De Coucy, after the taking of the -town of Mirebeau. The castle still held out, and laughed the efforts -of their small force to scorn. Their auxiliaries had not yet come up. -No one could gain precise information of the movements of King John's -army; and yet, the knights of Poitou and Anjou passed their time in -revelling and merriment in the town, pressing the siege of the castle -vigorously during the day, but giving up the night to feasting and -debauchery, and leading Prince Arthur, in the heedlessness of his -youth, into the same improvident neglect as themselves.</p> - -<p class="normal">When De Coucy urged the hourly danger to which they were exposed -during the night, with broken gates and an unrepaired wall, and -pressed the necessity of throwing out guards and patrols, the only -reply he obtained was, "Let the Brabançois patrol,--they were paid for -such tedious service. They were excellent scouts too. None better! Let -them play sentinel. The knights and men-at-arms had enough to do -during the day. As to King John, who feared him? Let him come. They -would fight him." So confident had they become from their first -success against Mirebeau. De Coucy, however, shared not this -confidence; but every night, as soon as the immediate operations -against the castle had ceased, he left the wounded in the town, and -retired, with the rest of his followers, to a small post he had -established on a mound, at the distance of a double arrow shot from -the fortress. His first care after this, was to distribute the least -fatigued of the Brabançois, in small parties, round the place, at a -short distance from the walls; so that, as far as they could be relied -upon, the besiegers were secure against attack.</p> - -<p class="normal">Still the young knight, practised in the desultory warfare of the -crusades, and accustomed to every sort of attack, both by night and -day, neglected no precaution; and, by establishing a patrol of his own -tried attendants, each making the complete round of the posts once -during the night; while De Coucy himself never omitted to make the -same tour twice between darkness and light, he seemed to insure also -the faith of the Brabançois.</p> - -<p class="normal">The fourth night had come, after the taking of the town; and, wearied -with the fatigues of the day, De Coucy had slept for an hour or two, -in one of the little huts of which he had formed his encampment. He -was restless, however, even during his sleep, and towards eleven of -the clock he rose, and proceeded to the watch-fire, at a short -distance from which, the man who was next to make the round was -sitting waiting his companion's return. The night was as black as ink; -there was a sort of solid darkness in the air; but withal it was very -warm; so that, though the light of the fire was very agreeable, its -heat was not to be supported.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Has all gone well?" demanded the knight.</p> - -<p class="normal">"All, beau sire," answered the man, "except that one of the coterel's -horses has got his foot in a hole, and slipped his fetlock."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Have you heard of his captain, Jodelle?" demanded De Coucy. "Is he -better of his hurt? We want all the men we have."</p> - -<p class="normal">"I have not seen him, beau sire, because I have not been in the town," -replied the squire; "but one of his fellows says, that he is very bad -indeed;--that the blow you dealt him has knocked one of his eyes quite -out."</p> - -<p class="normal">"I am sorry for that," said De Coucy. "I meant not to strike so -heavily, I will see him to-morrow before the attack. Bring me word, in -the morning, what house he lies at; and now mount and begin your -round, good Raoul. We will keep it up quickly to-night. I know not -why, but I am not easy. I have a sort of misgiving that I seldom feel. -Hush! What noise is that!"</p> - -<p class="normal">"Oh, 'tis the folks singing in the town, beau sire," replied the man. -"They have been at it this hour. It comes from the prévôt's garden. I -heard Sir Savary de Maulèon say, as he rode by us, that he would sing -the abbess of the convent a lay to-night, for the love of her sweet -eyes."</p> - -<p class="normal">A gust of wind now brought the sounds nearer; and De Coucy heard, more -distinctly, that it was as the man-at-arms had said. The dull tones of -a rote, with some voices singing, mingled with the merry clamour of -several persons laughing; and the general hum of more quiet -conversation told that the gay nobles of Poitou were prolonging the -revel late.</p> - -<p class="normal">De Coucy bade the man go; and in a few minutes after, when the other, -who had been engaged in making the rounds, returned, the knight -himself mounted a fresh horse, and rode round in various directions, -sometimes visiting the posts, sometimes pushing his search into the -country; for, with no earthly reason for suspicion, he felt more -troubled and anxious than if some inevitable misfortune were about to -fall upon him. At about three in the morning he returned, and found -Hugo de Barre, by the light of the watch-fire, waiting his turn to -ride on the patrol.</p> - -<p class="normal">"How is thy wound, Hugo?" demanded De Coucy, springing to the ground.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Oh, 'tis nothing. Sir Guy!--'tis nothing!" replied the stout squire. -"God send me never worse than that, and my bargain would be soon -made!"</p> - -<p class="normal">"Has all been still?" demanded the knight.</p> - -<p class="normal">"All, save a slight rustling I thought I heard on yonder hill," -replied Hugo. "It sounded like a far horse's feet."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Thou hast shrewd ears, good Hugo," answered his lord. "'Twas I rode -across it some half an hour ago or less."</p> - -<p class="normal">"'Tis that the night is woundy still," replied the squire, "one might -hear a fly buzz at a mile; 'tis as hot as Palestine too. Think you, -beau sire," he added, somewhat abruptly, "that 'twill be long before -this castle falls?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"Nine months and a day! good Hugo," answered the knight,--"nine months -and a day! without our reinforcements come up. How would you have us -take it? We have no engines. We have neither mangonel, nor catapult, -nor pierrier to batter the wall, nor ladders nor moving tower to storm -it."</p> - -<p class="normal">"I would fain be on to La Flêche, beau sire," said Hugo, laughing. -"'Tis that makes me impatient."</p> - -<p class="normal">"And why to La Flêche?" demanded De Coucy. "Why there, more than to -any other town of Maine or Normandy?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"Oh, I forgot, sire. You were not there," said the squire, "when the -packman at Tours told Ermold de Marcy and me, that Sir Julian, and the -Lady Isadore, and Mistress Alixe, and little Eleanor, and all, are at -La Flêche."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Ha!" said De Coucy, "and this cursed castle is keeping us here for -ages, and those wild knights of Poitou lying there in the town, and -spending the time in foolish revel that would take twenty castles if -well employed."</p> - -<p class="normal">"That is what Gallon the fool said yesterday," rejoined Hugo. "God -forgive me for putting you, sire, and Gallon together: but he said, -'If those Poitevins would but dine as heartily on stone walls as they -do on cranes and capons, and toss off as much water as they do wine, -they would drink the ditch dry, and swallow the castle, before three -days were out.'"</p> - -<p class="normal">"On my life, he said not amiss," replied De Coucy.--"Where is poor -Gallon? I have not seen him these two days."</p> - -<p class="normal">"He keeps to the town, beau sire," replied Hugo, "to console the good -wives, as he says. But here comes Henry Carvel from the rounds, or I -am mistaken. Yet the night is so dark, one would not see a camel at a -yard's distance. Ho, stand! Give the word!"</p> - -<p class="normal">"Arthur!" replied the soldier, and dismounted by the watch-fire. Hugo -de Barre sprang on his horse, and proceeded on his round; while De -Coucy, casting himself down in the blaze, prepared to watch out the -night by the sentinel, who was now called to the guard.</p> - -<p class="normal">It were little amusing to trace De Coucy's thoughts. A knight of that -day would have deemed it almost a disgrace to divide the necessary -anxieties of the profession of arms, with any other idea than that of -his lady love. However the caustic pen of Cervantes, whose chivalrous -spirit--of which, I am bold to say, no man ever originally possessed -more--had early been crushed by ingratitude and disappointment, -however his pen may have given an aspect of ridicule to the deep -devotion of the ancient knights towards the object of their love, -however true it may be that that devotion was not always of as pure a -kind as fancy has pourtrayed it; yet the love of the chivalrous ages -was a far superior feeling to the calculating transaction so termed in -the present day; and if, perhaps, it was rude in its forms and -extravagant in its excess, it had at least the energy of passion, and -the sublimity of strength. De Coucy watched and listened; but still, -while he did so, he thought of Isadore of the Mount, and he called up -her loveliness, her gentleness, her affection. Every glance of her -soft dark eyes, every tone of her sweet lip, was food for memory; and -the young knight deemed that surely for such glances and such tones a -brave man might conquer the world.</p> - -<p class="normal">The night, as we have seen, had been sultry, and the sky dark; and it -was now waxing towards morning; but no cool breeze announced the fresh -rising of the day. The air was heavy and close, as if charged with the -matter for a thousand storms; and the wind was as still as if no -quickening wing had ever stirred the thick and lazy atmosphere. -Suddenly a sort of rolling sound seemed to disturb the air, and De -Coucy sprang upon his feet to listen. A moment of silence elapsed, and -then a bright flash of lightning blazed across the sky, followed by a -clap of thunder. De Coucy listened still. "It could not be distant -thunder," he thought,--"the sound he had first heard. He had seen no -previous lightning."</p> - -<p class="normal">He now distinctly heard a horse's feet coming towards him; and, a -moment after, the voice of Hugo de Barre speaking to some one else. -"Come along, Sir Gallon, quick!" cried he. "You must tell it to my -lord himself. By Heaven! if 'tis a jest, you should not have made it; -and if 'tis not a jest, he must hear it."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Ha, haw!" cried Gallon the fool.--"Ha, haw! If 'tis a jest, 'tis the -best I ever made, for it is true,--and truth is the best jest in the -calendar.--Why don't they make Truth a saint, Hugo? Haw, haw! Haw, -haw! When I'm pope, I'll make St. Truth to match St. Ruth; and when -I've done, I shall have made the best saint in the pack.--Haw, haw! -Haw, haw! But, by the Lord! some one will soon make St. Lie to spite -me; and no one will pray to St. Truth afterwards.--Haw! haw! haw!--But -there's De Coucy standing by the watch-fire, like some great devil in -armour, broiling the souls of the damned.--Haw! haw! haw!"</p> - -<p class="normal">"What is the matter, Hugo?" cried the knight, advancing. "Why are you -dragging along poor Gallon so?</p> - -<p class="normal">"Because poor Gallon lets him," cried the juggler, freeing himself -from the squire's grasp, by one of his almost supernatural springs. -"Haw, haw! Where's poor Gallon now?"--and he bounded up to the place -where the knight stood, and cast himself down by the fire, -exclaiming,--"Oh rare! 'Tis a sweet fire, in this sultry night.--Haw, -haw! Are you cold, De Coucy?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"I am afraid, my lord, there is treason going forward," said Hugo de -Barre, riding up to his master, and speaking in a low voice. "I had -scarce left you, when Gallon came bounding up to me, and began running -beside my horse, saying, in his wild way, he would tell me a story. I -heeded him little at first; but when he began to tell me that this -Brabançois--this Jodelle--has not been lying wounded a-bed, but has -been away these two days on horseback, and came back into the town -towards dusk last night, I thought it right to bring him hither."</p> - -<p class="normal">"You did well," cried De Coucy,--"you did well! I will speak with -him--I observed some movement amongst the Brabançois as we returned. -Go quietly, Hugo, and give a glance into their huts, while I speak -with the juggler.--Ho, good Gallon, come hither?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"You won't beat me?" cried Gallon,--"ha?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"Beat thee! no, on my honour!" replied de Coucy; and the mad juggler -crept up to him on all-fours.--"Tell me, Gallon," continued the -knight, "is what you said to Hugo true about Jodelle?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"The good king Christopher had a cat!" replied Gallon. "You said you -would not beat me, Coucy; but your eyes look very like as if your fist -itched to give the lie to your honour."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Nay, nay. Gallon," said De Coucy, striving by gentleness to get a -moment of serious reason from him. "My own life--the safety of the -camp--of prince Arthur--of our whole party, may depend upon your -answer. I have heard you say that you are a Christian man, and kept -your faith, even while a slave amongst the Saracens; now answer me--Do -you know for certain that Jodelle has been absent, as you told your -friend Hugo? Speak the truth, upon your soul!"</p> - -<p class="normal">"Not upon my soul!--not upon my soul!" cried Gallon. "As to my having -a soul, that is all a matter of taste and uncertainty; but what I said -was true, upon my nose, which no one will deny--Turk or Christian, -fool or philosopher. On my nose, it was true, Coucy--on my nose."</p> - -<p class="normal">"By Heaven! if this prove false, I will cut it off!" cried the knight, -frowning on him.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Do so, do so! beau sire," replied Gallon, grinning; "and when you -have got it, God give you grace to wear it!"</p> - -<p class="normal">"Now, Hugo de Barre!" cried the knight, as his squire returned with a -quick pace.</p> - -<p class="normal">"As I hope for salvation, sir Guy," cried Hugo, "there are not ten of -the cotereaux in the huts! Those that are there are sleeping quietly -enough, but all the rest are gone!"</p> - -<p class="normal">"Lord! what a flash!" cried Gallon, as the lightning gleamed round -about them, playing on the armour of De Coucy and his squire.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Ha, Hugo! did you see nothing in that valley?" exclaimed the knight.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Lances, as I live!" answered the squire. "We are betrayed to the -English, sire!"</p> - -<p class="normal">"We may reach the town yet, and save the prince!" exclaimed the -knight. "Wake the vassals, and the Brabançois that are left! The -traitor thought them too true to be trusted: we will think them true -too.--Be quick, but silent! Bid them not speak a word!"</p> - -<p class="normal">Each man started up in his armour, as he was awoke; for De Coucy had -not permitted them to disarm during the siege; and, being ranged in -silence behind the knight, the small party that were left began to -descend towards the town on foot, and unknowing what duty they were -going upon.</p> - -<p class="normal">Between the castle and the hill on which De Coucy had established his -post was a small ravine, the entrance of which, nearest the town, -exactly fronted the breach that he had formerly effected in the wall. -In the bottom ran a quick but shallow stream, which, brawling amongst -some large stones, went on murmuring towards the castle, the ditch of -which it supplied with water. Leading his men down into the hollow, -the young knight took advantage of the stream, and by making his -soldiers advance through the water, covered the clank of their armour -with the noise of the rivulet. The most profound darkness hung upon -their way; but, during the four days they had been there, each man had -become perfectly acquainted with the ground, so that they were -advancing rapidly; when suddenly a slight measured sound, like the -march of armed men over soft turf, caused De Coucy to halt. "Stop!" -whispered he; "they are between us and the walls. We shall have a -flash presently. Down behind the bushes, and we shall see!"</p> - -<p class="normal">As he expected, it was not long before the lightning again blazed -across, and showed them a strong body of infantry marching along in -line, between the spot where he stood and the walls.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Hugo," whispered the knight, "we must risk all. They are surrounding -the town; but the southern gate must still be open. We must cut -through them, and may still save the prince. Let each man remember his -task is, to enter the house of the prévôt, and carry Arthur -Plantagenet out, whether he will or not, by the southern gate. A -thousand marks of silver to the man who sets him in the streets of -Paris;--follow silently till I give the word."</p> - -<p class="normal">This was said like lightning; and leading onward with a quick but -cautious step, De Coucy had advanced so far, that he could hear the -footfall of each armed man in the enemy's ranks, and the rustling of -their close pressed files against each other, when the blaze of the -lightning discovered his party also to those against whom they were -advancing. It gleamed as brightly as if the flash had been actually -between them, showing to De Coucy the corselets and pikes and grim -faces of the English soldiers within twenty yards of where he stood; -while they suddenly perceived a body of armed men approaching towards -them, whose numbers the duration of the lightning was not sufficient -to display.</p> - -<p class="normal">"A Coucy! a Coucy!" shouted the knight, giving the signal to advance, -and rushing forward with that overwhelming impetuosity which always -casts so much in favour of the attacking party. Unacquainted with the -ground, taken by surprise, uncertain to whom or to what they were -opposed, the Norman and English soldiers, for the moment, gave way in -confusion. Two went down in a moment before De Coucy's sword; a third -attempted to grapple with him, but was dashed to the earth in an -instant; a fourth retired fighting towards the wall.</p> - -<p class="normal">De Coucy pressed upon him as a man whose all--honour, fortune, -existence--is staked upon his single arm. Hugo and his followers -thronged after, widening the breach he had hewn in the enemy's ranks. -The soldier who fronted him, struck wild, reeled, staggered under his -blows, and stumbling over the ruins of the fallen tower, was trodden -under his feet. On rushed De Coucy towards the breach, seeing nought -in the darkness, hearing nought in the tumult, his quick and bloody -passage had occasioned.</p> - -<p class="normal">But suddenly the bright blue lightning flashed once more across his -path. What was it he beheld? The lion banner of England planted in the -breach, with a crowd of iron forms around it, and a forest of spears -shining from beyond.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Back! back, my lord!" cried Hugo: "the way is clear behind;--back to -the hill, while we can pass!"</p> - -<p class="normal">Back like lightning De Coucy trod his steps, but with a different -order of march from what he had pursued in advancing. Every man of his -train went now before him; and though his passage had been but for an -instant, and the confusion it had occasioned great, yet the English -soldiers were now pressing in upon him on all sides, and hard was the -task to clear himself of their ranks. The darkness, however, favoured -him, and his superior knowledge of the ground; and, hastening onward, -contenting himself with striking only where his passage was opposed, -he gradually fought his way out--foiled one or two that attempted to -pursue him--gained the hill, and, mounting it with the swiftness of an -arrow sped from the bow, he at length rallied his men in the midst of -the little huts in which he had lodged his soldiers after the taking -of the town.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Haw, haw! beau sire! Haw, haw;" cried Gallon the fool, who had never -stirred from the fire, although the heat was intense; "so you have -come back again. But I can tell you, that if you like to go down the -other way, you may have just as good a dish of fighting, for I saw, -but now, the postern of the castle open, and a whole troop of spears -wind down behind us. Haw, haw! haw, haw!"</p> - -<p class="normal">"Now for the last chance, Hugo!" cried the knight.--"To horse, to -horse!"</p> - -<p class="normal">Each man detached his beast from the spot where they stood ready, and -sprang into the saddle, doubting not that their daring leader was -about to attempt to cut his way through; but De Coucy had very -different thoughts.</p> - -<p class="normal">"There is the day breaking," cried he; "we must be quick. In the -confusion that must reign in the town the prince may escape, if we can -but draw the Normans' attention hitherward. Gallon, a fitting task for -you! Take some of those brands, and set fire to all the huts. Quick! -the day is rising!"</p> - -<p class="normal">"Haw, haw!" cried Gallon, delighted.--"Haw, haw!" and in an -astonishingly short space of time he had contrived to communicate the -flame to the greater part of the hovels, which, constructed -principally of dry branches, were easily ignited.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Now!" cried De Coucy, "each man his horn to his lips! and let him -blow a flourish, as if he were saluting the royal standard."</p> - -<p class="normal">De Coucy himself set the example, and the long, loud, united notes -rang far over the town.</p> - -<p class="normal">So far as calling the attention of the English army below, the plan -perfectly succeeded; and indeed, even made the greater part both of -the knights and men-at-arms believe that Arthur was without the town.</p> - -<p class="normal">All eyes were turned now towards the little hill, where, clearly -defined in the red light of the burning huts, stood the small party of -horsemen, hanging a dark black spot upon the very verge, backed by the -blaze of the conflagration. They might easily be mistaken for a group -of knights; and a little wood of birches some way behind, looked not -unlike a considerable clump of spears. To such a point, indeed, was -Lord Pembroke himself deceived, that he judged it fit to move a strong -body of horse round to the right of the hill, thus hemming in the -knight between the town and the castle.</p> - -<p class="normal">De Coucy saw the movement, and rejoiced in it. Nor did he move a step, -as long as the fire of the huts continued to blaze; wishing, as far as -possible, to embarrass the enemy by the singularity of his behaviour, -in the faint hope that every additional cause of confusion, joined to -those which must always attend a night-attack, might in some degree -facilitate the escape of the prince.</p> - -<p class="normal">The fire however expired, and the grey light of the morning was -beginning to spread more and more over the scene, when De Coucy turned -his rein, and, skirting round the little birch wood we have mentioned, -at last endeavoured to force his way through the iron toils that were -spread around him. To the right, as he wheeled round the wood, the -early light showed the strong body of cavalry Lord Pembroke had thrown -forward. On his left now lay the castle, and straight before him a -body of archers that had issued from thence with the earl of Salisbury -and half a dozen knights at their head. De Coucy hesitated not a -moment, but laid his lance in the rest, and galloped forward to the -attack of the latter at full speed.</p> - -<p class="normal">One of the knights rode out before the rest to meet him, but went -down, horse and man, before his spear, and rolled on the plain, with -the iron of the lance broken off deep in his breast. On spurred De -Coucy, swinging his battle-axe over the head of a Norman who followed, -when his horse, unfortunately, set his foot on the carcase of the -fallen man--slipped--fell irrecoverably, and the knight was hurled to -the ground.</p> - -<p class="normal">He sprang on his feet, however, in a moment, and, catching the bridle -of Lord Salisbury's horse, dashed the iron chamfron to atoms with his -battle-axe, and hurled the animal reeling on his haunches. The earl -spurred up his charger. "Yield! yield! De Coucy!" cried he;--"Good -treatment! Fair ransom! William's friendship! Yield you, or you die!"</p> - -<p class="normal">"Never!" exclaimed De Coucy, turning; and at a single blow striking -down a man on foot that pressed upon him behind;--"never will I be -John of England's prisoner!"</p> - -<p class="normal">"Be Salisbury's!--be William Longsword's!" shouted the earl loudly, -eager to save his noble foe from the lances that were now bearing him -down on all sides. But De Coucy still raged like a lion in the toils; -and, alone in the midst of his enemies--for the ranks had closed round -and cut him off even from the aid of his little band--he continued for -many minutes to struggle with a host, displaying that fearful courage -which gained him a name throughout all Europe.</p> - -<p class="normal">At length, however, while pressed upon in front by three lances, a -powerful man-at-arms behind him raised above his head a mace that -would have felled Goliah. The knight turned his head; but to parry it -was impossible, for both his sword and shield arms were busy in -defending himself from the spears of the enemy in front; and he must -have gone down before the blow like a felled ox, had not Lord -Salisbury sprung to the ground, and interposed the shield, which hung -round his own neck, in a slanting direction between the tremendous -mace and De Coucy's helmet. The blow however fell; and, though turned -aside by William Longsword's treble target, its descent drove the -earl's arm down upon De Coucy's head, and made them both stagger.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Salisbury, I yield me!" cried De Coucy, dropping his battle-axe: -"rescue or no rescue, generous enemy, I am thy true prisoner; and -thereunto I give thee my faith. But, as thou art a knight and a noble, -yield me not to thy bad brother John. We know too well how he treats -his prisoners."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Salisbury's honour for your surety, brave De Coucy!" replied the -earl, clasping him in his mailed arms, and giving a friendly shake, as -if in reproach for the long-protracted struggle he had maintained. "By -the Lord! old friend, when you fought by my side in Palestine, you -were but a whelp, where you are now a lion! But know ye not yet, the -town has been in our hands this hour, and my fair nephew Arthur taken -in his bed, with all the wild revellers of Poitou, as full of wine as -leathern bottles?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"Alas! I fear for the prince!" cried De Coucy, "in his bad uncle's -hands."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Hush! hush!" replied Salisbury. "John is my brother, though I be but -a bastard. He has pledged his word too, I hear, to treat his nephew -nobly. So let us to the town, where we shall hear more. In the mean -while, however, let me send to the earl of Pembroke; for, by the -manœuvres he is making, he seems as ignorant of what has taken -place in the town, as you were. Now let us on."</p> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<h3>CHAPTER XII.</h3> -<br> - -<p class="continue">We must change the scene once more, and return to the palace of Philip -Augustus. The whirlwind of passion had passed by; but the deep pangs -of disappointed expectation, with a long train of gloomy suspicions -and painful anticipations, swelled in the bosom of the monarch, like -those heavy, sweeping billows which a storm leaves behind on the -long-agitated sea.</p> - -<p class="normal">Philip Augustus slowly mounted the stairs of the great keep of the -castle, pausing at every two or three steps, as if even the attention -necessary to raise his foot from the one grade to the other -interrupted the deep current of his thoughts. So profound, indeed, -were those thoughts, that he never even remarked the presence of -Guerin, till at length, at the very door of the queen's apartments, -the minister beseeched him to collect himself.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Remember, sire," said the bishop, "that no point of the lady's -conduct is reproachable; and, for Heaven's sake! yield not your noble -mind to any fit of passion that you may repent of hereafter."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Fear not, Guerin," replied the king: "I am as cool as snow;" and -opening the door, he pushed aside the tapestry and entered.</p> - -<p class="normal">Agnes had heard the step, but it was so different from her husband's -general pace, that she had not believed it to be his. When she beheld -him, however, a glow of bright, unspeakable joy, which in itself might -have convinced the most suspicious, spread over her countenance.</p> - -<p class="normal">Philip was not proof against it; and as she sprang forward to meet -him, he kissed her cheek, and pressed her in the wonted embrace. But -there is nought so pertinacious on earth as suspicion. 'Tis the -fiend's best, most persevering servant. Cast it from us with what -force we will--crush it under what weight of reasoning we may, once -born in the human heart, it still rises on its invisible ladder, and -squeezes its little drop of corroding poison into every cup we drink.</p> - -<p class="normal">The queen's women left the room, and Philip sat down by the embroidery -frame where Agnes had been working before she went out. He still held -her hand in his, as she stood beside him; but fixing his eyes upon the -embroidery, he was in a moment again lost in painful thought, though -his hand every now and then contracted on the small fingers they -grasped, with a sort of habitual fondness.</p> - -<p class="normal">Agnes was surprised and pained at this unwonted mood; and yet she -would not deem it coldness, or say one word that might irritate her -husband's mind; so that for long she left him to think in silence, -seeing that something most agonising must evidently have happened, so -to absorb his ideas, even beside her.</p> - -<p class="normal">At length, however, without making a motion to withdraw her hand, she -sunk slowly down upon her knees beside him; and, gazing up in his -face, she asked, "Do you not love me, Philip?" in a low, sweet tone, -that vibrated through his soul to all the gentler and dearer feelings -of his heart.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Love you, Agnes!" cried he, throwing his arms round her beautiful -form, and pressing kiss upon kiss on her lips--"love you! Oh God! how -deeply!" He gazed on her face for a moment or two, with one of those -long, straining, wistful glances that we sometimes give to the dead; -then, starting up, he paced the room for several minutes, murmuring -some indistinct words to himself, till at length his steps grew slower -again, his lips ceased to move, and he once more fell into deep -meditation.</p> - -<p class="normal">Agnes rose, and, advancing towards him, laid her hand affectionately -upon his arm, "Calm yourself, Philip. Come and sit down again, and -tell your Agnes what has disturbed you. Calm yourself, beloved! Oh, -calm yourself!"</p> - -<p class="normal">"Calm, madam!" said the king, turning towards her with an air of cold -abstraction. "How would you have me calm?"</p> - -<p class="normal">Agnes let her hand drop from his arm; and, returning to her seat, she -bent her head down and wept silently.</p> - -<p class="normal">Philip took another turn in the chamber, during which he twice turned -his eyes upon the figure of his wife--then advanced towards her, and -leaning down, cast his arm over her neck. "Weep not, dear Agnes," he -said,--"weep not; I have many things to agitate and distress me. You -must bear with me, and let my humour have its way."</p> - -<p class="normal">Agnes looked up, and kissed the lips that spoke to her, through her -tears. She asked no questions, however, lest she might recall whatever -was painful to her husband's mind. Philip, too, glanced not for a -moment towards the real cause of his agitation. There was something so -pure, so tender, so beautiful, in the whole conduct and demeanour of -his wife--so full of the same affection towards him that he felt -towards her--so unmixed with the least touch of that constraint that -might make her love doubted, that his suspicions stood reproved, and -though they rankled still, he dared not own them.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Can it be only a feeling of cold duty binds her to me thus?" he asked -himself; "she cited nought else to support her resolution of not -flying with that pale seducer, D'Auvergne; and yet, see how she -strives for my affection! how she seems to fix her whole hopes upon -it!--how to see it shaken agitates her!"</p> - -<p class="normal">The fiend had his answer ready. It might be pride--the fear of -sinking from the queen of a great kingdom, back into the daughter -of a petty prince. It might be vanity--which would be painfully -wrung to leave splendour, and riches, and admiration of a world, to -become--what?--what <i>had been</i> the wife of a great king--a lonely, -unnoticed outcast from her <i>once husband's</i> kingdom. Still, he thought -it was impossible. She had never loved splendour--she had never sought -admiration. Her delights had been with him alone, in sports and -amusements that might be tasted, with any one beloved, even in the -lowest station. It was impossible;--and yet it rankled. He felt he -wronged her. He was ashamed of it;--and yet those thoughts rankled! -Memory, too, dwelt with painful accuracy upon those words he had -overheard,--<i>notwithstanding her own feelings, she would not quit -him!</i>--and imagination, with more skill than the best sophist of the -court of Crœsus, drew therefrom matter to basis a thousand painful -doubts.</p> - -<p class="normal">As thus he thought, he cast himself again into the seat before the -frame; and his mind being well prepared for every bitter and sorrowful -idea, he gave himself up to the gloomy train of fancies that pressed -on him on every side: the revolt of his barons--the disaffection of -his allies--the falling off of his friends--the exhaustion of his -finances--and last, not least, that dreadful interdict, that cut his -kingdom off from the Christian world, and made it like a lazar house. -He resolved all the horrible proofs of the papal power, that he had -seen on his way: the young, the old, clinging to his stirrup and -praying relief--the dead, the dying, exposed by the road-side to catch -his eye--the gloomy silence of the cities and the fields--the -deathlike void of all accustomed sounds, that spread around his path -wherever he turned:--he thought over them all; and, as he thought, he -almost unconsciously took up the chalk wherewith Agnes had been -tracing the figures on her embroidery, and slowly scrawled upon the -edge of the frame, "<i>Interdict! Interdict!</i>";</p> - -<p class="normal">She had watched his motions as a mother watches those of her sick -child; but when she read the letters he had written, a faint cry broke -from her lips, and she became deadly pale. The conviction that -Philip's resolution was shaken by the thunders of the Roman church -took full possession of her mind, and she saw that the moment was -arrived for her to make her own peace the sacrifice for his. She felt -her fate sealed,--she felt her heart broken; and though she had often, -often contemplated the chances of such a moment, how trifling, how -weak had been the very worst dreams of her imagination to the agony of -the reality!</p> - -<p class="normal">She repressed the cry, however, already half uttered; and rising from -her seat with her determination fixed, and her mind made up to the -worst evil that fate could inflict, she kneeled down at the king's -feet, and, raising her eyes to his, "My lord," she said, "the time is -come for making you a request that I am sure you will not refuse. -Your own repose, your kingdom's welfare, and the church's peace -require--all and each--that you should consent to part from one who -has been too long an object of painful contest. Till I thought that -the opinion of your prelates and your peers had gained over your will -to such a separation, I never dared, my noble lord, even to think -thereof; but now you are doubtless convinced that it must be so; and -all I have to beg is, that you would give me sufficient guard and -escort, to conduct me safely to my father's arms; and that you would -sometimes think with tenderness of one who has loved you well."</p> - -<p class="normal">Agnes spoke as calmly as if she had asked some simple boon. Her voice -was low but clear; and the only thing that could betray agitation, was -the excessive rapidity of her utterance, seeming as if she doubted her -own powers to bring her request to an end.</p> - -<p class="normal">Philip gazed upon her with a glance of agony and surprise, that were -painful even to behold. His cheek was as pale as death; but his brow -was flushed and red; and as she proceeded, the drops of agony stood -upon his temples. When she had done, he strove to speak, but no voice -answered his will; and after gasping as for breath, he started up, -exclaimed with great effort, "Oh, Agnes!" and darted out of the -chamber.</p> - -<p class="normal">At ten paces' distance from the door stood Guerin, as if in -expectation of the king's return. Philip caught him by the arm, and, -scarcely conscious of what he did, pointed wildly with the other hand -to the door of the queen's apartments.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Good God! my lord," cried the minister, well knowing the violent -nature of his master's passion. "In Heaven's name! what have you -done?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"Done! done!" cried the monarch. "Done! She loves me not, Guerin! She -seeks to quit me. She loves me not, I say! She loves me not! I, that -would have sacrificed my soul for her! I, that would have abjured the -cross--embraced the crescent--desolated Europe--died myself, for her. -She seeks to leave me! Oh, madness and fury!" and clenching his hands, -he stamped with his armed heel upon the ground, till the vaulted roofs -of the keep echoed and re-echoed to the sound.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Oh! my lord! be calm, in Heaven's name!" cried Guerin. "Speak not -such wild and daring words! Remember, though you be a king, there is a -King still higher; who perhaps even now chastens you for resisting his -high will."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Away!" cried the king. "School not me, sir bishop! I tell thee, there -is worse hell <i>here</i>, than if there had never been heaven;" and he -struck his hand upon his mailed breast with fury, indeed almost -approaching to insanity. "Oh, Guerin, Guerin!" he cried again, after a -moment's pause, "she would leave me! Did you hear? She would leave -me!"</p> - -<p class="normal">"Let me beseech you, sire," said the minister once more. "Compose -yourself, and, as a wise and good prince, let the discomfort and -misery that Heaven has sent to yourself, at least be turned to your -people's good; and, by so doing, be sure that you will merit of Heaven -some consolation."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Consolation!" said the monarch mournfully. "Oh, my friend, what -consolation can I have? She loves me not, Guerin! She seeks to quit -me! What consolation can I have under that?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"At least the consolation, sire, of relieving and restoring happiness -to your distressed people," answered the minister. "The queen herself -seeks to quit you, sire. The queen herself prays you to yield to the -authority of the church. After that, you will surely never think of -detaining her against her will. It would be an impious rebellion -against a special manifestation of Heaven's commands; for sure I am -that nothing but the express conviction that it is God's will would -have induced the princess to express such a desire as you have vaguely -mentioned."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Do you think so, Guerin?" demanded Philip, musing--"do you think so? -But no, no! She would never quit me if she loved me?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"Her love for you, my lord, may be suspended by the will of Heaven," -replied the minister; "for surely she never showed want of love -towards you till now. Yield then, my lord, to the will of the Most -High. Let the queen depart; and, indeed, by so doing, I believe that -even your own fondest hopes may be gratified. Our holy father the -pope, you know, would not even hear the question of divorce tried, -till you should show your obedience to the church by separating from -the queen. When you have done so, he has pledged himself to examine it -in the true apostolic spirit; and doubtless he will come to the same -decision as your bishops of France had done before. Free from all -ties, you may then recall the queen----"</p> - -<p class="normal">"But her love!" interrupted Philip,--"can I ever recall her love?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"If it be by the will of Heaven," replied Guerin, "that she seeks to -leave you, her love for you, my lord, will not be lost, but increased -a thousand fold when Heaven's blessing sanctions it: and the pope----"</p> - -<p class="normal">"Curses upon his head!" thundered Philip, bursting forth into a new -frenzy of passion,--"may pride and ambition be a curse on him and his -successors for ever! May they grasp at the power of others, till they -lose their own! May nation after nation cast off their sway! and itch -of dominion, with impotence of means, be their damnation for ever! Now -I have given him back his curse--say, what of him?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"Nothing, my lord," replied Guerin; "but, that the only means to make -him consent to your union with the princess is to part with her for a -time. Oh, my lord! if you have not already consented,--consent, I -beseech you: she prays it herself. Do not refuse her--your kingdom -requires it: have compassion upon it. Your own honour is implicated; -for your barons rebel, and you never can chastise them while the whole -realm is bound to their cause by the strong bond of mutual distress."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Chastise them!" said Philip thoughtfully, pausing on the ideas the -minister had suggested. Then suddenly he turned to Guerin with his -brow knit, and his cheek flushed, as if with the struggle of some new -resolution. "Be it so, Guerin!" cried he,--"be it so! The interdict -shall be raised--I will take them one by one--I will cut them into -chaff, and scatter them to the wind--I will be king of France indeed! -and if, in the mean while, this proud prelate yields me my wife--my -own beloved wife--why, well; but if he dares then refuse his sanction, -when I have bowed my rebellious subjects, his seat is but a frail one; -for I will march on Rome, and hurl him from his chair, and send him -forth to tread the sands of Palestine.--But stay, Guerin. Think you, -that on examination he will confirm the bishops' decree, if I yield -for the time?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"I trust he will, my lord," replied the minister. "May I tell the -queen you grant her request?" he added, eager to urge Philip's -indecision into the irrevocable.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Yes!" said the monarch, "yes!--Yet stay, Guerin,--stay!" and he fell -into thought again; when suddenly some one, mounting the steps like -lightning, approached the little vestibule where they stood. "Ha! have -you taken the count D'Auvergne?" cried the king, seeing one of his -serjeants-of-arms--his eyes flashing at the same time with all their -former fury.</p> - -<p class="normal">"No, my lord," replied the man: "he has not yet been heard of; but a -messenger, in breathless haste, from the bishop of Tours, brings you -this packet, sire. He says, prince Arthur is taken," added the -serjeant.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Avert it, Heaven!" exclaimed Philip, tearing open the despatch. "Too -true! too true!" he added: "and the people of Poitou in revolt! laying -the misfortune to our door, for resisting the interdict. Oh, Guerin! -it must be done--it must be done! The interdict must be raised, or all -is lost.--Begone, fellow! leave us!" he exclaimed, turning to the -serjeant, who tarried for no second command. Then, pacing up and down -for an instant, with his eyes bent on the ground, the king repeated -more than once:--"She seeks to leave me! she spoke of it as calmly as -a hermit tells his beads. She loves me not!--Too true, she loves me -not!"</p> - -<p class="normal">"May I announce your will in this respect, my lord? demanded Guerin, -as the king paused and pondered bitterly over all that had passed.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Ask me not, good friend!--ask me not!" replied the king, turning away -his head, as if to avoid facing the act to which his minister urged -him, "Ask me not. Do what thou wilt; there is my signet,--use it -wisely; but tear not my heart, by asking commands I cannot utter."</p> - -<p class="normal">Thus speaking, the king drew his private seal from his finger, and -placing it in Guerin's hand, turned away; and, with a quick but -irregular step, descended the staircase, passed through the gardens, -and issuing out by the postern gate, plunged into the very heart of -the forest.</p> - -<p class="normal">Guerin paused to collect his thoughts, scarcely believing the victory -that had been obtained; so little had he expected it in the morning. -He then approached the door of the queen's apartments, and knocked -gently for admittance. At first it passed unnoticed, but on repeating -it somewhat louder, one of Agnes's women presented herself, with a -face of ashy paleness, while another looked over her shoulder.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Enter, my lord bishop, enter!" said the second in a low voice. "Thank -God, you are come! We know not what has so struck the queen; but she -is very ill. She speaks not; she raises not her head; and yet by her -sobbing 'tis clear she has not fainted. See where she lies!"</p> - -<p class="normal">Guerin entered. From Philip's account, he had thought to find the -queen with a mind composed and made up to her fortunes; but a sadly -different scene presented itself. Agnes had apparently, the moment her -husband had left her, caught down the crucifix from a little moveable -oratory which stood in the room, and throwing herself on her knees -before one of the seats, had been seeking consolation in prayer. The -emotions which crossed her address to Heaven may easily be conceived; -and so powerfully had they worked, that, overcoming all other -thoughts, they seemed to have swept hope and trust, even in the -Almighty, away before them, and dashed the unhappy girl to the ground -like a stricken flower. Her head and whole person had fallen forward -on the cushion of the seat, before which she had been kneeling. Her -face was resting partly on her hands, and partly on the cross, which -they clasped, and which was deluged with her tears; while a succession -of short convulsive sobs was all that announced her to be amongst the -living.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Has she not spoken since the king left her?" demanded Guerin, both -alarmed and shocked.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Not a word, sir," replied her principal attendant. "We heard her move -once, after the king's voice ceased; and then came a dead silence: so -we ventured to come in, lest she should have fallen into one of those -swoons which have afflicted her ever since the tournament of the -Champeaux. We have striven to raise her, and to draw some word from -her; but she lies there, and sobs, and answers nothing."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Send for Rigord the leech," said Guerin; "I saw him in the hall:" and -then approaching Agnes, with a heart deeply touched with the sorrow he -beheld, "Grieve not so, lady," he said in a kindly voice; "I trust -that this will not be so heavy a burden as you think: I doubt -not--indeed I doubt not, that a short separation from your royal -husband will be all that you will have to bear. The king having once, -by your good counsel, submitted his cause to the trial of the holy -church, our good father, the pope, will doubtless judge mildly, and -soon restore to him the treasure he has lost. Bear up, then, sweet -lady, bear up! and be sure that wherever you go, the blessings of a -whole nation, which your self-devotion has saved from civil war and -misery of every kind, will follow your footsteps, and smooth your -way."</p> - -<p class="normal">It was impossible to say whether Agnes heard him or not; but the words -of comfort which the good bishop proffered produced no effect. She -remained with her face still leaning on the cross, and a quick -succession of convulsive sobs was her only reply. Guerin saw that all -farther attempt to communicate with her in any way would be vain for -the time; and he only waited the arrival of the leech to leave the -apartment.</p> - -<p class="normal">Rigord, who acted both as physician and historian to Philip Augustus, -instantly followed the queen's attendant, who had been despatched to -seek him; and, after having received a promise from him to bring -intelligence of the queen's real state, the minister retired to his -own chamber, and hastened to render Philip's resolution irrevocable, -by writing that letter of submission to the holy see, which speedily -raised the interdict from France.</p> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<h3>CHAPTER XIII.</h3> -<br> - -<p class="continue">Black and gloomy silence reigned through the old château of Compiègne, -during the two days that followed the queen's determination to depart. -All Philip's military operations were neglected--all the affairs of -his immediate government were forgotten, and his hours passed in -wandering alone in the forest, or in pacing his chamber with agitated -and uncertain steps.</p> - -<p class="normal">The thoughts and feelings that filled those hours, however, though all -painful, were of a mixed and irregular character. Sometimes, it was -the indignant swelling of a proud and imperious heart against the -usurped power that snatched from it its brightest hopes. Sometimes, it -was the thrilling agony of parting from all he loved. Sometimes, it -was the burning thirst for vengeance, both on the head of him who had -caused the misery, and of those who, by their falling off in time of -need, had left him to bear it alone; and, sometimes, it was the -shadowy doubts and suspicions of awakened jealousy, throwing all into -darkness and gloom. Still, however, the deep, the passionate love -remained; and to it clung the faint hope of rewinning the treasure he -sacrificed for a time.</p> - -<p class="normal">Thus, as he strode along the paths of the forest, with his arms -crossed upon his broad chest, he sketched out the stern but vast plan -of crushing his rebellious barons piecemeal, as soon as ever the -interdict--that fatal bond of union amongst them--should be broken. He -carried his glance, too, still farther into the future; and saw many a -rising coalition against him in Europe, fomented and supported by the -church of Rome; and firm in his own vigorous talent, it was with a -sort of joy that he contemplated their coming, as the means whereby he -would avenge the indignity he had suffered from the Roman see, crush -his enemies, punish his disobedient vassals, and, extending his -dominion to the infinite of hope, would hold Agnes once more to his -heart, and dare the whole world to snatch her thence again.</p> - -<p class="normal">Such were the thoughts of Philip Augustus, so mingled of many -passions--ambition--love--revenge. Each in its turn using as its -servant a great and powerful mind, and all bringing about--for with -such opposite agents does Heaven still work its high will--all -bringing about great changes to the world at large; revolutions in -thoughts, in feelings, and in manners; the fall of systems, and the -advance of the human mind.</p> - -<p class="normal">Were we of those who love to view agony with a microscope, we would -try equally to display the feelings of Agnes de Meranie, while, with -crushed joys, blighted hopes, and a broken heart, she prepared for the -journey that was to separate her for ever from him she loved best on -earth.</p> - -<p class="normal">It would be too painful a picture, however, either to draw or to -examine. Suffice it, then, that, recovered from the sort of stupor -into which she had fallen after the efforts which had been called -forth by Philip's presence, she sat in calm dejected silence; while -her women, informed of her decision, made the necessary arrangements -for her departure. If she spoke at all, it was but to direct care to -be taken of each particular object, which might recall to her -afterwards the few bright hours she had so deeply enjoyed. 'Twas now -an ornament,--'twas now some piece of her dress, either given her by -her husband, or worn on some day of peculiar happiness, which called -her notice; and, as a traveller, forced to leave some bright land that -he may never see again, carries away with him a thousand views and -charts, to aid remembrance in after-years, poor Agnes was anxious to -secure, alone, all that could lead memory back to the joys that she -was quitting for ever. To each little trinket there was some memory -affixed; and to her heart they were relics, as holy as ever lay upon -shrine or altar.</p> - -<p class="normal">It was on the second morning after her resolution had been taken, and -with a sad haste, springing from the consciousness of failing powers, -she was hurrying on her preparations, when she was informed that the -chancellor, Guerin, desired a few minutes' audience. She would fain -have shrunk from it; for, though she revered the minister for his -undoubted integrity, and his devotion to her husband, yet, it had so -happened that Guerin had almost always been called on to speak with -her for the purpose of communicating some painful news, or urging some -bitter duty. The impression he had left on her mind, therefore, was -aught but pleasant; and, though she esteemed him much, she loved not -his society. She was of too gentle a nature, however, to permit a -feeling so painful to its object to be seen for a moment, even now -that the minister's good word or bad could serve her nothing; and she -desired him to be admitted immediately.</p> - -<p class="normal">The havoc that a few hours had worked on a face which was once the -perfection of earthly beauty struck even the minister, unobservant as -he was in general of things so foreign to his calling. As he remarked -it, he made a sudden pause in his advance; and looking up with a faint -smile, more sad, more melancholy than even tears, Agnes shook her -head, saving mildly, as a comment on his surprise--</p> - -<p class="normal">"It cannot be, lord bishop, that any one should suffer as I have -suffered, and not let the traces shine out. But you are welcome, my -lord. How fares it with my noble lord--my husband, the king? He has -not come to me since yester-morning; and yet, methinks, we might have -better borne these wretched two days together than apart. We might -have fortified each other's resolution with strong words. We might -have shown each other, that what it was right to do, it was right to -do firmly."</p> - -<p class="normal">"The king, madam," replied Guerin, "has scarcely been in a state to -see any one. I have been thrice refused admittance, though my plea was -urgent business of the state. He has been totally alone, till within -the last few minutes."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Poor Philip!" exclaimed Agnes, the tears, in spite of every effort, -swelling in her eyes, and rolling over her fair pale cheek. "Poor -Philip! And did he think his Agnes would have tried to shake the -resolution which cost him such pangs to maintain? Oh, no! She would -have aided him to fix it, and to bear it."</p> - -<p class="normal">"He feared not your constancy, lady," replied the bishop of Senlis. -"He feared his own. I have heard that fortitude is a woman's virtue; -and, in truth, I now believe it. But I must do my errand; for, in -faith, lady, I cannot see you weep:"--and the good minister wiped a -bright drop from his own clear, cold eye. "Having at last seen the -king," he proceeded, "he has commanded me to take strict care that all -the attendants you please to name should accompany you; that your -household expenses should be charged upon his domains, as that of the -queen of France; and having, from all things, good hope that the pope, -satisfied with this submission to his authority, will proceed -immediately to verify the divorce pronounced by the bishops, so that -your separation may be short--"</p> - -<p class="normal">"Ha! What?" exclaimed Agnes, starting up, and catching the bishop's -arm with both her hands, while she gazed in his face with a look of -thunderstruck, incredulous astonishment--"What is it you say? Is there -a chance--is there a hope--is there a possibility that I may see him -again--that I may clasp his hand--that I may rest on his bosom once -more? O God! O God! blessed be thy holy name!" and falling on her -knees, she turned her beautiful eyes to heaven; while, clasping her -fair hands, and raising them also, trembling with emotion, towards the -sky, her lips moved silently, but rapidly, in grateful, enthusiastic -thanksgiving.</p> - -<p class="normal">"But, oh!" she cried, starting up, and fixing her eager glance upon -the minister, "as you are a churchman, as you are a knight, as you are -a man! do not deceive me! Is there a hope--is there even a remote -hope? Does Philip think there is a hope?</p> - -<p class="normal">"It appears to me, lady," replied the minister,--"and for no earthly -consideration would I deceive you,--that there is every cause to hope. -Our holy father the pope would not take the matter of the king's -divorce even into consideration, till the monarch submitted to the -decision of the church of Rome, which, he declared, was alone -competent to decide upon the question,--a right which the bishops of -France, he said, had arrogated unjustly to themselves."</p> - -<p class="normal">"And did he," exclaimed Agnes solemnly--"did he cast his curse upon -this whole country--spread misery, desolation, and sorrow over the -nation--stir up civil war and rebellion, and tear two hearts asunder -that loved each other so devotedly, for the empty right to judge a -cause that had been already judged, and do away a sentence which he -knew not whether it was right or wrong?--and is this the -representative of Christ's apostle?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"'Tis even as you say, lady, I am afraid," replied the minister. "But -even suppose his conduct to proceed from pride and arrogance,--which -Heaven forbid that I should insinuate!--our hope would be but -strengthened by such an opinion. For, contented with having -established his right and enforced his will, he will of course -commission a council to inquire into the cause, and decide according -to their good judgment. What that decision will be, is only known on -high; but as many prelates of France will of course sit in that -council, it is not likely that they will consent to reverse their own -judgment."</p> - -<p class="normal">"And what thinks the king?" demanded Agnes thoughtfully.</p> - -<p class="normal">"No stronger proof, lady, can be given, that he thinks as I do," -replied Guerin, "than his determination that you should never be far -from him; so that, as soon as the papal decision shall be announced in -his favour, he may fly to reunite himself to her he will ever look -upon as his lawful wife. He begs, madam, that you would name that -royal château which you would desire for your residence--"</p> - -<p class="normal">"Then I am not to quit France!" cried Agnes, hope and joy once more -beaming up in her eyes. "I am not to put wide, foreign lands between -us, and the journey of many a weary day! Oh! 'tis too much! 'tis too -much!" and sinking back into the chair where she had been sitting -before the minister's entrance, she covered her eyes with her hands, -and let the struggle between joy and sorrow flow gently away in tears.</p> - -<p class="normal">Guerin made a movement as if to withdraw; but the queen raised her -hand, and stopped him. "Stay, my lord bishop, stay!" she said--"These -are tears such as I have not shed for long; and there is in them a -balmy quality that will soothe many of the wounds in my heart. Before -you go, I must render some reply to my dear lord's message. Tell him, -as my whole joy in life has been to be with him, so my only earthly -hope is to rejoin him soon. Thank him for all the blessed comfort he -has sent me by your lips; and say to him that it has snatched his -Agnes from the brink of despair. Say, moreover, that I would fain, -fain see him, if it will not pain him too deeply, before I take my -departure from the halls where I have known so much happiness. But bid -him not, on that account, to give his heart one pang to solace mine. -And now, my lord, I will choose my residence. Let me see. I will not -say Compiègne! for, though I love it well, and have here many a dear -memory, yet, I know, Philip loves it too; and I would that he should -often inhabit some place that is full of remembrances of me. But there -is a castle on the woody hill above Mantes where once, in the earliest -days of our marriage, we spent a pleasant month. It shall be my -widow's portion, till I see my lord again. Oh! why, why, why must we -part at all? But no!" she added more firmly, "it is doubtless right -that it should be so: and, if we may thus buy for our fate the blessed -certainty of never parting again, I will not think--I will try not to -think--the price too dear."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Perhaps, madam, if I might venture to advise," said the minister, -"the interview you desire with the king would take place the last -thing before your departure."</p> - -<p class="normal">Agnes drooped her head. "My departure!" said she mournfullyeg. "True! -'twill be but one pain for all. I have ordered my departure for this -evening, because I thought that the sooner I were gone, the sooner -would the pain be over for Philip; but oh, lord bishop, you know not -what it is to take such a resolution of departure--to cut short, even -by one brief minute, that fond lingering with which we cling to all -the loved objects that have surrounded us in happiness. But it is -right to do it, and it shall be done: my litter shall be here an hour -before supper; what guards you and the king think necessary to escort -me, I will beg you to command at the hour of three. But I hope," she -added, in an almost imploring tone,--"I hope I shall see my husband -before I go?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"Doubt it not, madam," said Guerin: "I have but to express your -desire. Could I but serve you farther?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"In nothing, my good lord," replied the queen, "but in watching over -the king like a father. Soothe his ruffled mood; calm his hurt mind; -teach him not to forget Agnes, but to bear her absence with more -fortitude than she can bear his. And now, my lord," she added, wiping -the tears once more from her eyes, "I will go and pray, against that -dreadful hour. I have need of help, but Heaven will give it me; and if -ever woman's heart broke in silence, it shall be mine this night."</p> - -<p class="normal">Guerin took his leave and withdrew; and, proceeding to the cabinet of -Philip Augustus, gave him such an account of his conversation with the -queen, as he thought might soothe and console him, without shaking his -resolution of parting from her, at least for a time. Philip listened, -at first, in gloomy silence; but, as every now and then, through the -dry account given by his plain minister, shone out some touch of the -deep affection borne him by his wife, a shade passed away from his -brow, and he would exclaim, "Ha! said she so? Angel! Oh, Guerin, she -is an angel!" Then starting up, struck by some sudden impulse, he -paced the room with hasty and irregular steps.</p> - -<p class="normal">"A villain!" cried he at length--"a villain!--Thibalt d'Auvergne, -beware thy head!--By the blessed rood! Guerin, If I lay my hands upon -him, I will cut his false heart from his mischief-devising breast! -Fiend! fiend! to strive to rob me of an angel's love like that! He has -fled me, Guerin!--he has fled me for the time. You have doubtless -heard, within five minutes, he and his train had left the town behind -him. 'Twas the consciousness of villany drove him to flight. But I -will find him, if I seek him in the heart of Africa! The world shall -not hold us two."</p> - -<p class="normal">Guerin strove to calm the mind of the king, but it was in vain; and, -till the hour approached for the departure of Agnes from the castle, -Philip spent the time either in breathing vows of vengeance against -his adversaries, or in pacing up and down, and thinking, with a wrung -and agonised heart, over the dreadful moment before him. At length he -could bear it no longer; and, throwing open the door of his cabinet, -he walked hastily towards the queen's apartments. Guerin followed, for -a few paces, knowing that the critical moment was arrived when France -was to be saved or lost--doubting the resolution of both Agnes and -Philip, and himself uncertain how to act.</p> - -<p class="normal">But before Philip had passed through the corridor, he turned to the -minister, and, holding up his hand, with an air of stern majesty he -said, "Alone, Guerin! I must be alone! At three, warn me!" and he -pursued his way to the queen's apartment.</p> - -<p class="normal">The next hour we must pass over in silence; for no one was witness to -a scene that required almost more than mortal fortitude to support. At -three, the queen's litter was in the castle court, the serjeants of -arms mounted to attend her, and the horses of her ladies held ready to -set out. With a heart beating with stronger emotions than had ever -agitated it in the face of adverse hosts, Guerin approached the -apartments of Agnes de Meranie. He opened the door, but paused without -pushing aside the tapestry, saying, "My lord!"</p> - -<p class="normal">"Come in," replied Philip, in a voice of thunder; and Guerin, -entering, beheld him standing in the midst of the floor with Agnes -clinging to him, fair, frail, and faint, with her arms twined round -his powerful frame, like the ivy clinging round some tall oak agitated -by a storm. The kings face was heated, his eyes were red, and the -veins of his temples were swelled almost to bursting. "She shall not -go!" cried he, as Guerin entered, in a voice both raised and shaken by -the extremity of his feelings--"By the Lord of heaven! she shall not -go!"</p> - -<p class="normal">There was energy in his tone, almost to madness; and Guerin stood -silent, seeing all that he had laboured to bring about swept away in -that moment. But Agnes slowly withdrew her arms from the king, raised -her weeping face from his bosom, clasped her hands together, and gazed -on him for a moment with a glance of deep and agonised feeling--then -said, in a low but resolute voice, "Philip, it must be done! Farewell, -beloved! farewell!" and, running forward towards the door, she took -the arm of one of her women, to support her from the chamber.</p> - -<p class="normal">Before she could go, however, Philip caught her again in his arms, and -pressed kiss after kiss upon her lips and cheek. "Help me! help me!" -said Agnes, and two of her women, gently disengaging her from the -king's embrace, half bore, half carried her down the stairs, and, -raising her into the litter, drew its curtains round, and veiled her -farther sorrows from all other eyes.</p> - -<p class="normal">When she was gone, Philip stood for a moment gazing, as it were, on -vacancy--twice raised his hand to his head--made a step or two towards -the door--reeled--staggered--and fell heavily on the floor, with the -blood gushing from his mouth and nostrils.</p> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<h3>END OF THE SECOND VOLUME.</h3> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<hr class="W20"> -<h3>VOLUME THE THIRD.</h3> -<hr class="W20"> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<h3>CHAPTER I.</h3> -<br> - -<p class="continue">The Count d'Auvergne left Agnes de Meranie, with his mind stretched to -the highest point of excitement. For months and months he had been -dwelling on the thoughts of that one moment. In the midst of other -scenes and circumstances, his soul had been abstracted and busy with -the anticipations of that hour. His whole powers and energies had been -wrought up to bear it firmly and calmly. And now he had accomplished -his task. It was done! he had seen, he had met the object of his -young, deep, all-absorbing affection--the object of all his regrets, -the undesigning cause of all his misery--he had seen her the wife of -another--he had seen her in sorrow and distress--he had helped even to -tear her heart, by pressing on her a separation from the man she -loved. He had marked every touch of her strong affection for Philip. -He had felt every cold and chilling word she had addressed to himself, -and yet he had borne it calmly--firmly, at least. Like the Indian -savage, he had endured the fire and the torture without a sign of -suffering; but still the fire and the torture had done their work upon -his corporeal frame.</p> - -<p class="normal">The words in the letter, presented to him by De Coucy's page, swam -dizzily before his eyes, without conveying their defined meaning to -his senses. He saw that it was some new pang--he saw that it was some -fresh misfortune; but reason reeled upon her throne, and he could not -sufficiently fix his mind to gather what was the precise nature of the -tidings he received. He bade the page follow, however, in a hurried -and confused tone, and passed rapidly on through the castle hall into -the town, and to the lodging where he had left his retainers. His -horse stood saddled in the court, and all seemed prepared for -departure; and without well knowing why, but with the mere indistinct -desire of flying from the sorrows that pursued him, he mounted his -horse and turned him to the road.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Shall we follow, my lord?" demanded his squire, running at his bridle -as he rode forward.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Ha?--Yes!--Follow!" replied the count, and galloped on with the -letter the page had given him still in his hand. He rode on with the -swiftness of the wind; whenever his horse made the least pause, urging -him forward with the spur, as if a moment's cessation of his rapid -pace gave him up again to the dark and gloomy thoughts that pursued -him like fierce and winged fiends.</p> - -<p class="normal">Still, his long habit of commanding his feelings struggled for its -ancient power. He felt that his mind was overcome, and he strove to -raise it up again. He endeavoured to recall his stoical firmness; he -tried to reason upon his own weakness; but the object to which he had -bent all his thoughts was accomplished--the motive for his endurance -was over, his firmness was gone, and reason hovered vaguely round each -subject that was presented to her, without grasping it decidedly. -During the last two years, he had raised up, as it were, a strong -embankment in his own mind against the flood of his sorrows, he had -fortified it with every power of a firm and vigorous intellect; but -the torrent had swelled by degrees, till its force became resistless; -and now it bore away every barrier, with destruction the more fearful -from the opposition it had encountered.</p> - -<p class="normal">He rode on. The day was burning and oppressive. The hot mid-day sun -struck scorching on its brow, and his eyes became wild and bloodshot; -but still he rode on, as if he felt in no degree anything that passed -without the dark chamber of his own bosom. De Coucy's page had -hastened for his horse when he found the count about to depart, and -had galloped after. Seeing at length that his thoughts were occupied -in other matters, and that he held the letter he had received, crushed -together in his hand, Ermold De Marcy made bold to spur forward his -weary beast, and approaching D'Auvergne to say, "Is there any hope, my -lord, of your being able, in this matter, to relieve sir Guy?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"Sir Guy!" cried D'Auvergne, suddenly checking his horse in full -career, and gazing in the page's face with an anxious, thoughtful -look, as if he strove with effort to recollect his ideas, and fix them -on the subject brought before him--"Sir Guy! What of sir Guy! Who is -sir Guy?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"Do you not remember me, beau sire?" asked the page, astonished at the -wild, unsettled look of a man whose fixed, stern, immoveable coldness -of expression had often been a matter of wonder to the light, volatile -youth, whose own thoughts and feelings changed full fifty times a -day--"do you know me, beau sire?" he asked. "I am Ermold de Marcy, the -page of sir Guy de Coucy, who now lies in English bonds, as that -letter informs you."</p> - -<p class="normal">"De Coucy in bonds!" cried the count, starting. Then, after gazing for -a moment or two in the page's face, he added slowly, "Ay!--Yes!--True! -Some one told me of it before, methinks. In bonds! I will march and -deliver him!"</p> - -<p class="normal">"Alas! my lord!" answered the page, "all the powers in France would -not deliver him by force. He is in the hands of the English army, full -fifty thousand strong; and it is only by paying his ransom, I may hope -to see my noble lord freed."</p> - -<p class="normal">"You shall pay his ransom," replied D'Auvergne--"yes, you shall pay -his ransom. How much does the soldan ask?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"'Tis the English king who holds him, my lord," answered the page; -"not the soldan. We are in France, beau sire, not in Palestine."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Not in Palestine, fool!" cried the count, frowning as if the page -sought to mock him. "Feel I not the hot sun burning on my brow? And -yet," he continued, looking round, "I believe thou art right.--But the -ransom, what does the soldan require.--De Coucy!--the noble De -Coucy!--to think of his ever being a prisoner to those infidel -Saracens! What does the miscreant soldan demand?"</p> - -<p class="normal">Surprised and shocked at what he beheld, the page paused for a moment -till D'Auvergne repeated his question. Then, however, seeing that it -would be a vain attempt to change the current of the count's thoughts, -he replied, "I do not know, my lord, precisely; but I should suppose -they would never free a knight of his renown under a ransom of ten -thousand crowns."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Ten thousand crowns!" cried D'Auvergne, his mind getting more and -more astray every moment, under the effort and excitement of -conversation, "thou shalt have double! Then with the remainder thou -shalt buy thee a flock of sheep, and find out some valley in the -mountains, where nor man nor woman ever trod; there shalt thou hide -thee with thy sheep, till age whitens thee, and death strikes thee. -Thou shalt! thou shalt, I tell thee, that the records of the world may -say there was once a man who lived and died in peace. But come to -Jerusalem! Come! and thou shalt have the gold. For me, I am bound by a -holy vow to do penance in solitude amongst the green woods of Mount -Libanus. Follow quick! follow! and thou shalt have the gold."</p> - -<p class="normal">So saying, the count rode on, and Ermold de Marcy followed with his -train; speaking earnestly, though not very sagely perhaps, with -D'Auvergne's chief squire, concerning the sudden fit of insanity that -had seized his lord.</p> - -<p class="normal">Notwithstanding the strange turn which the mind of count Thibalt had -taken, he mistook not his road to Paris, nor did he once err in the -various turnings of the city. On the contrary, with a faculty -sometimes possessed by madness, he seemed to proceed with more -readiness than usual, following all the shortest and most direct -streets towards the house of the canons of St. Berthe's; where, on his -arrival, he went straight to the apartments which had been assigned to -him by the good fathers; and calling for his treasurer, whom he had -left behind on his visit to Compiègne, he demanded the key of his -treasure.</p> - -<p class="normal">The case which contained the sums he had destined to defray the -expenses of his return to the Holy Land was soon laid open before him. -For a moment or two, he gazed from it to the page, with one of the -painful, wandering looks of a mind partially gone, striving vainly to -collect all its remaining energies, and concentrate them on some -matter of deep and vital import.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Take it!" cried he at length--"take what is necessary.--Tell thy -lord," he added with great effort, as if the linking each idea to the -other was a work of bitter labour--"tell thy lord, I would come--I -would strive to free him myself--I would do much.--But, but--Auvergne -is not what he was. My heart is the same--but my brain, youth! my -brain!"--and he carried his hand to his brow, wandering over it with -his fingers, while his eyes fixed gradually on vacancy; and he -continued muttering broken sentences to himself, such as, "This -morning!--ay! this morning.--The hot sun of the desert.--And -Agnes--yes, Agnes--her cold words." Then suddenly catching the eye of -the page fixed upon his countenance, he pointed to the gold, -exclaiming angrily, "Take it! Why dost thou not take it?--Get thee -gone with it to thy lord. Dost thou stay to mock. Take the gold and -get thee gone, I say!"</p> - -<p class="normal">The page, without further bidding, kneeled beside the case, and took -thence as many bags of gold as he thought necessary for the purpose of -ransoming De Coucy; placing them one by one in his pouch. When he had -done, he paused a moment for licence to depart, which was soon given -in an angry "Get thee gone!" and, descending the stairs as quickly as -possible, he only stayed with the servants of the count d'Auvergne, to -bid them have a care of their lord; for that, to a certainty, he was -as mad as a marabout; after which, he mounted his horse and rode away.</p> - -<p class="normal">Ermold de Marcy first turned the head of his weary beast towards the -east; but no sooner was he out of Paris, than he changed that -direction for one nearly west; and, without exactly retreading his -steps, he took quite an opposite path to that which he first intended. -This retrograde movement proceeded from no concerted purpose, but was, -in reality and truth, a complete change of intention; for, to say -sooth, the poor page was not a little embarrassed with the business he -had in hand.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Here," thought he, "I have about me twelve thousand crowns in gold. -The roads are full of cotereaux, routiers, and robbers of all -descriptions; my horse is so weary, that if I am attacked, I must e'en -stand still and be plundered. Night is coming on fast; and I have -nowhere to lie--and what to do I know not. If I carry all this gold -about with me too, till I find my master, I shall lose it, by Saint -Jude! By the holy rood! I will go to the old hermit of Vincennes. He -cheated me, and proved himself a true man, after all, about that ring. -So I will leave the gold under his charge till I have learned more of -my lord, and to whom he has surrendered himself."</p> - -<p class="normal">This resolution was formed just as he got out of the gate of the city; -and skirting round on the outside, he took his way towards the tower -of Vincennes; after passing which, he soon reached the dwelling of the -hermit in the forest of Saint Mandé, with but little difficulty in -finding his road. The old man received him with somewhat more urbanity -than usual, and heard his tale in calm silence. Ermold related -circumstantially all that had occurred to him since he followed his -lord from Paris, looking upon the hermit in the light of a confessor, -and relieving his bosom of the load that had weighed upon it ever -since his truant escapade to the good town of La Flêche. He told, too, -all the efforts he had made to avert the unhappy effects of Jodelle's -treachery; and pourtrayed, with an air of bitter mortification, that -interested the old man in his favour, the degree of despair he had -felt when, on mounting the hill above Mirebeau, he saw the English -army in possession of the city and country round about.</p> - -<p class="normal">"And saw you no one who had escaped?" demanded the anchorite, with -some earnestness.</p> - -<p class="normal">"No one," replied the page, "but our own mad juggler. Gallon the fool, -who had got away, though sore wounded with an arrow. From him, -however, I learned nothing, for he was so cursed with the pain of his -wound, that he would speak no sense; and when I questioned him -sharply, he shouted like a devil, as is his wont, and ran off as hard -as he could. I then rode forward to Tours," continued the page, "and -for a crown, got a holy clerk to write me a letter to the count -d'Auvergne, in case I could not have speech of him, telling him of my -lord's case, and praying his help; and never did I doubt that the -noble count would instantly go down to Tours himself, to ransom his -brother in arms; but, God help us all! I found his wit a cup-full -weaker than when I left him."</p> - -<p class="normal">"How so?" demanded the hermit: "what wouldst thou say, boy? Why did -not the good count go? Speak more plainly."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Alas! good father, he is as mad as the moon!" replied the page; -"something that happened this morning at Compiègne, his followers say, -must have been the cause, for yesterday he was as wise and calm as -ever. To-day, too, when he rose, he was gloomy and stern, they tell -me, as he always is; but when he came back from the château, he was as -mad as a Saracen santon."</p> - -<p class="normal">The hermit clasped his hands, and knit his brows; and after thinking -deeply for several minutes, he said, apparently more as a corollary to -his own thoughts, than to the pages words, "Thus we should learn, -never for any object, though it may seem good, to quit the broad and -open path of truth. That word policy has caused, and will cause, more -misery in the world, than all the plagues of Egypt. I abjure it, and -henceforth will never yield a word's approval to aught that has even a -touch of falsehood, be it but in seeming. Never deceive any one, -youth! even to their own good, as thou mayest think; for thou knowest -not what little circumstance may intervene, unknown to thee, and, -scattering all the good designs of the matter to the wind, may leave -the deceit alone, to act deep and mischievously. A grain of sand in -the tubes of a clepsydra will derange all its functions, and throw its -manifold and complicated movements wrong. How much more likely, then, -that some little unforeseen accident in the intricate workings of this -great earthly machine should prove our best calculations false, and -whip us with our own policy! Oh! never, never deceive! Deceit in -itself is evil, and intention can never make it good."</p> - -<p class="normal">Though, like most people, who, when they discover an error in their -own conduct, take care to sermonise some other person thereupon, the -hermit addressed his discourse to Ermold de Marcy, his homily was in -fact a reproach to himself; for, in the page's account of the count -d'Auvergne's madness, he read, though mistakenly, the effects of the -scheme he had sanctioned, as we have seen, for freeing the country -from the interdict. For a moment or two, he still continued to think -over what he had heard, inflicting on himself that sort of bitter -castigation, which his stern mind was as much accustomed to address to -himself as to others. He then turned again to the subject of De Coucy. -"'Tis an unhappy accident, thou hast told me there, youth," he said, -coming suddenly back, upon the subject, without any immediate -connexion;--"'tis an unhappy accident,--both your lord being taken, -and his brother in arms being unable to aid him; but we must see for -means to gain his ransom, and, God willing! it shall be done."</p> - -<p class="normal">"'Tis done already, father hermit," replied the page: "the noble count -had not lost his love for sir Guy, though he had lost his own senses; -and albeit he was in no state to manage the matter of the ransom -himself, he gave me sufficient money. It lies there in that pouch, -twelve thousand crowns, all in gold. Now, I dare not be riding about -with such a sum; and so I have brought it to you to keep safe, while I -go back and find out the earl of Salisbury, who, I have heard say, was -an old companion of my master's in the Holy Land, and will tell me, -for his love, into whose hands he has fallen. I will now lead my beast -back to the village, by Vincennes, for carry me he can no farther; -and, though I could stretch me here in your hut for the night, no -stable is near, and my poor bay would be eaten by the wolves before -daybreak. To-morrow, with the first ray of the morning, I set out to -seek my lord, and find means of freeing him. 'Tis a long journey, and -may be a long treaty. Give me, therefore, two months to accomplish it -all; and if I come not then, think that the routiers have devoured me; -and send, I pray thee, good father, to king Philip, and bid him see my -lord ransomed."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Stay, boy," said the hermit: "you must not go alone. To-morrow -morning, speed to Paris; seek sir François de Roussy, Mountjoy -king-at-arms; tell him I sent thee. Show him thy lord's case, and bid -him give thee a herald to accompany thee on thine errand. Thus shall -thou do it far quicker, and far more surely; and the herald's guerdon -shall not be wanting when he returns."</p> - -<p class="normal">The page eagerly caught at the idea, and the farther arrangements -between himself and the hermit were easily made. After having yielded -a few of its gold pieces, to defray the expenses of the page's -journey, the pouch, with the money it contained, was safely deposited -under the moss and straw of the hermit's bed; which place, as we have -seen, had already, on one occasion, served a similar purpose. Ermold -de Marcy then received the old man's blessing, and bidding him adieu, -left him to contemplate more at leisure the news he had so suddenly -brought him.</p> - -<p class="normal">It was then, when freed from the immediate subject of De Coucy's -imprisonment, which the presence of the page had of course rendered -the first subject of consideration, that the mind of the hermit turned -to the unhappy fate of Arthur Plantagenet. He paused for several -moments, with his arms folded on his chest, drawing manifold sad -deductions from that unhappy prince's claim to the crown of England, -joined with his present situation, and his uncle's established -cruelty. There were hopes that the English barons might interfere, or -that shame and fear might lead John to hold his unscrupulous hand. But -yet the chance was a frail one; and as the old man contemplated the -reverse, he gave an involuntary shudder, and sinking on his knees -before the crucifix, he addressed a silent prayer to Heaven, for -protection to the unfortunate beings exposed to the cruel ambition of -the weak and remorseless tyrant.</p> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<h3>CHAPTER II.</h3> -<br> - -<p class="continue">There stood in ancient days, on the banks of the river Seine, a tall -strong tower, forming one of the extreme defences of the city of Rouen -towards the water. It has long, long been pulled down; but I have -myself seen a picture of that capital of Normandy, taken while the -tower I speak of yet stood; and though the painter had indeed -represented it as crumbling and dilapidated, even in his day, there -was still an air of menacing gloom in its aspect, that seemed to speak -it a place whose dungeons might have chronicled many a misery--a place -of long sorrows, and of ruthless deeds.</p> - -<p class="normal">In this tower, some four months after the events which we have -recorded in the end of the last volume and the beginning of this, were -confined two persons of whom we have already spoken much--Arthur -Plantagenet and Guy de Coucy.</p> - -<p class="normal">The chamber that they inhabited was not one calculated either to raise -the spirits of a prisoner by its lightsome airiness, or to awaken his -regrets by the prospect of the free world without. It seemed as if -made for the purpose of striking gloom and terror into the bosoms of -its sad inhabitants; and strong must have been the heart that could -long bear up under the depressing influence of its heavy atmosphere.</p> - -<p class="normal">Its best recommendation was its spaciousness, being a square of near -thirty feet in length and breadth; but this advantage was almost -completely done away by the depression of the roof, the highest extent -of which, at the apex of the arches whereof it was composed, was not -above eight feet from the floor. In the centre rose a short column of -about two feet in diameter, from which, at the height of little more -than a yard from the ground, began to spring the segments of masonry -forming the low but pointed arches of the vault.</p> - -<p class="normal">Window there was none; but at the highest part, through the solid bend -of one of the arches, was pierced a narrow slit, or loophole, -admitting sufficient light into the chamber to render the objects -dimly visible, but nothing more.</p> - -<p class="normal">The furniture which this abode of wretchedness contained was as scanty -as could well be, though a pretence of superior comfort had been given -to it over the other dungeons, when it was about to be tenanted by a -prince. Thus, in one part was a pile of straw, on which De Coucy made -his couch; and in another corner was a somewhat better bed, with two -coverings of tapestry, placed there for the use of Arthur. There were -also two settles--an unknown luxury in prisons of that day, and by the -massy column in the centre stood a small oaken table.</p> - -<p class="normal">At the side of this last piece of furniture, with his arms stretched -thereon, and his face buried in his arms, sat Arthur Plantagenet. It -was apparently one of those fine sunny days that sometimes break into -February; and a bright ray of light found its way through the narrow -loophole we have mentioned, and fell upon the stooping form of the -unhappy boy, exposing the worn and soiled condition of his once -splendid apparel, and the confused dishevelled state of the rich, -curling, yellow hair, which fell in glossy disarray over his fair -cheeks, as his brow rested heavily upon his arms. The ray passed on, -and forming a long narrow line of light upon the pillar, displayed a -rusty ring of iron, with its stauncheon deeply imbedded in the stone. -Attached to this hung several links of a broken chain; but though the -unhappy prince, when he looked upon the manacles that had been -inflicted on some former tenant of the prison, might have found that -comparative consolation which we derive from the knowledge of greater -misery than our own; yet the other painful associations, called up by -the sight, more than counterbalanced any soothing comparisons it -suggested; and he seemed, in despair, to be hiding his eyes from all -and every thing, in a scene where each object he looked upon called -up, fresh, some regret for the past, or some dread for the future.</p> - -<p class="normal">A little beyond, in a leaning position, with his hand grasping one of -the groins of the arch, stood De Coucy, in the dim half light that -filled every part of the chamber, where that ray already mentioned -fell not immediately; and with a look of deep mournful interest, he -contemplated his young fellow-captive, whose fate seemed to affect him -even more than his own.</p> - -<p class="normal">During the first few days of their captivity, all the prisoners taken -at Mirebeau had been treated by the crafty John with kindness and even -distinction; more especially Arthur and De Coucy, at least while -William Longsword, the Earl of Pembroke, and some others of the more -independent of the English nobility, remained near the person of the -king. While this lasted, the youthful mind of Arthur Plantagenet -recovered in some degree its tone, though the fatal events of Mirebeau -had at first sunk it almost to despair.</p> - -<p class="normal">On one pretence or another, however, John soon contrived that all -those who might have obstructed his schemes, either by opposition or -remonstrance, should be despatched on distant and tedious expeditions; -and, free from the restraint of their presence, his real feelings -towards Arthur, and those who supported him, were not long in -displaying themselves.</p> - -<p class="normal">Though ungifted with that fine quality which, teaching us to judge and -direct our own conduct as well as to understand and govern that of -others, truly deserves the name of wisdom, John possessed that -knowledge of human nature,--that cunning science in man's weaknesses, -which is too often mistaken for wisdom. He well understood, therefore, -that the good and noble--even in an age when virtue was chivalrous, -and when the protection of the oppressed was a deed of fame--would -often suffer violence and cruelty to pass unnoticed, after time had -taken the first hard aspect from the deed. He knew that what would -raise a thousand voices against it to-day, would to-morrow be -canvassed in a whisper, and the following day forgotten: and he judged -that, though the first rumour of his severity towards his nephew might -for a moment wake the indignation of his barons, yet, long before they -were reunited on the scene of action, individual interests, and newer -events, would step in, and divert their thoughts to very different -channels.</p> - -<p class="normal">Lord Pembroke was consequently despatched to Guyenne, with several of -those unmanageable honest men, whose straightforward honour is the -stumbling-block of evil intentions. Lord Salisbury was left once more -to protect Touraine with very inefficient forces; and John himself -retreated across the Loire, with the prisoners and the bulk of his -army.</p> - -<p class="normal">Each day's march changed his demeanour towards Arthur and his -unfortunate companions. His kingly courtesy became gradually scanty -kindness, manifest neglect, and, at last, cruel ill usage. The -revolted nobles of Poitou had given quite sufficient excuse for the -king's severity, towards them, at least; and with little ceremony, -either of time or manner, they were consigned to separate prisons, -scattered over the face of Maine and Brittany. Arthur and De Coucy -were granted a few days more of comparative liberty, following the -English army, strongly escorted indeed; but still breathing the free -air, and enjoying the sight of fair nature's face. At length, as the -army passed through Normandy, their escort, already furnished with -instructions to that effect, turned from the line of march, and -deposited them within the walls of the castle of Falaise; from which -place they were removed to Rouen in the midst of the winter, and -confined in the chamber we have already described.</p> - -<p class="normal">Arthur's mind had borne up at Falaise; so far, at least, that, though -he grieved over the breaking of his first splendid hopes, and felt, -with all the eager restlessness of youth, the uncomforts of -imprisonment, the privation of exercise, the dull monotonous round of -daily hours, the want of novelty, and the wearisome continuity of one -unchanging train of thought; yet hope was still alive--nay, even -expectation; and ceaselessly would he build those blessed castles in -the air, that, like the portrait of an absent friend, picture forth -the sweet features of distant happiness, far away, but not lost for -ever. The air of the prison had there been fresh and light, the -governor mild and urbane; and though, there, he had been lodged in a -different chamber from De Coucy, yet his spirits had not sunk, even -under solitude.</p> - -<p class="normal">At Rouen, however, though the jailer, for his own convenience, rather -than their comfort, placed the two prisoners in the same apartment, -Arthur's cheerfulness quickly abandoned him; his health failed, and -his hopes and expectations passed away like dreams, as they were. The -air, though cold, was close and heavy; and the dim, grey light of the -chamber seemed to encourage every melancholy thought.</p> - -<p class="normal">When De Coucy strove to console him, he would but shake his head with -an impatient start, as if the very idea of better days was but a -mockery of his hopelessness; and at other times he would sit, with the -silent tears of anguish and despair chasing each other down his fair, -pale cheeks, hour after hour; as if weeping had become his occupation. -As one day followed another, his depression seemed to increase. The -only sign of interest he had shown in what was passing in the busy -world without, had been the questions which he asked the jailer, -morning and evening, when their food or a light was brought them. -Then, he had been accustomed anxiously to demand when his uncle John -was expected to return from England, and sometimes to comment on the -reply; but, after a while, this too ceased, and his whole energies -seemed benumbed with despair, from the rising till the setting of the -sun.</p> - -<p class="normal">After it was down, however, he seemed in a degree to re-awaken; and -then alone he showed an interest in any thing unconnected with his own -immediate fate, when the day had gone, and by the light of the lamp -that was given them at night, De Coucy would relate to him many a -battle and adventure in the Holy Land--scenes of danger, and terror, -and excitement; and deeds of valour, and strength, and generosity, all -lighted up with the romantic and chivalrous spirit of the age, and -tinged with that wild and visionary superstition which cast a vague -sort of shadowy grandeur over all the tales of those days.</p> - -<p class="normal">Then Arthur's cheek would glow with a flush of feverish interest; and -he would ask many an eager question, and listen to long and minute -descriptions, that would weary beyond all patience any modern ears; -and, in the end, he would wish that, instead of having embarked his -hopes in the fatal endeavour of recovering lost kingdoms, and wresting -his heritage from the usurper, he had given his life and hopes to the -recovery of Christ's blessed cross and sepulchre.</p> - -<p class="normal">This, however, was only, as we have said, after the sun had gone down, -and when the lamp was lighted; for it seemed that then, when the same -darkness was apportioned to every one, and when every one sought a -refuge within the walls of their dwellings, that he felt not his -imprisonment so painfully as when day had risen--<i>day</i>, which to him -was without any of day's enjoyments. <i>He</i> could not taste the fresh -air--<i>he</i> could not catch the sunshine of the early spring--<i>he</i> could -not stretch his enfeebled limbs in the sports of the morning--<i>he</i> -could not gaze upon all the unrivalled workmanship of God's glorious, -beauty-spreading hand. Daylight to him was all privation; and even the -sunbeam that found its way through the loophole in the masonry, seemed -but given to wring him with the memory of sweets he could not taste. -He thus therefore turned his back towards it, as we have at first -depicted him; and burying his eyes upon his arms, gave himself up to -the recollection of broken hopes, long-gone visions of empiry and -dominion, stifled aspirations after honour and fame, brilliant past -schemes of justice and equity, and universal benevolence, and all -those bright materials given to youth, out of which manhood preserves -so few to carry on into old age. Powerful feelings and generous -designs are, alas! too like the inheritance of a miser in the hands of -some spendthrift heir--lavished away on trifles in our early years, -and needed, but not possessed, in our riper age.</p> - -<p class="normal">None had been more endowed in such sort than Arthur Plantagenet; but -it seemed the will of Fortune, to snatch from him, piece by piece, -each portion of his heritage, and to crush the energies of his mind at -the same time that she tore from him his right of dominion; and thus, -while he lay and pondered over all he had once hoped, there was a -touch of bitterness mingled with his grief, to feel that the noblest -wishes are but the mock and sport of Fate. Born to a kingdom, yet -doomed to a prison; as a child he had entered on the career of a man; -he had mingled the bright aspirations of youth with the ambitious -yearnings of maturity; and now his infancy lay crushed under the -misfortunes of manhood.</p> - -<p class="normal">De Coucy gazed on him with feelings of deep and painful interest. What -he might have been, and what he was; his youth, and his calamities; -his crushed mind, and its former gallant energy, stood forth in strong -contrast to the eyes of De Coucy, as, leaning against the arch, he -contemplated the unhappy prince, whose thin, pale hands, appearing -from beneath the curls of his glossy hair, spoke plainly the ravages -that confinement and sorrow had worked upon him.</p> - -<p class="normal">The knight was about to speak, when the sounds of voices approaching -were heard through the low small door that opened from their chamber -upon a stone gallery at the head of the staircase. De Coucy listened.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Thou art bold!--thou art too bold!" cried one of the speakers, -pausing opposite the door. "Tell not me of other prisoners! Thine -orders were strict, that he should be kept alone.--What was 't to -thee, if that mad De Coucy had rotted with fifty others in a cell? Thy -charge is taken from thee. Speak not! but begone! Leave me thy -keys.--Thou, Humbert, stand by with thy men. Listen not; but if I -call, rush in. Mark me, dost thou? If I speak loud, rush in!"</p> - -<p class="normal">The bolts were withdrawn, the key turned, and, the door opening, John, -King of England, entered, stooping his head to pass the low arch of -the doorway. Arthur had looked up at the first sound, and his pale -cheek had become a hue paler, even before the appearance of his uncle; -but, when John did at length approach, a quick sharp shudder passed -over his nephew's form, as if there had been indeed some innate -antipathy, which warned the victim that he was in presence of him -destined to be his murderer.</p> - -<p class="normal">The king advanced a step or two into the chamber, and then paused, -regarding Arthur, who had risen from his seat, with a cold and -calculating eye. A slight smile of gratification passed over his lip, -as he remarked the sallow and emaciated state to which imprisonment -and despair had reduced a form but three short months before full of -life, and strength, and beauty.</p> - -<p class="normal">The smile passed away instantly from a face little accustomed to -express the real feelings of the heart; but John still continued for a -moment to contemplate his nephew evidently little pained at the sight -of the change he beheld, whether from that change he augured -sufficient depression of mind to second his purpose of wringing from -his nephew the cession of his claims, or whether he hoped that -sickness might prove as good an auxiliary as murder, and spare him -bloodshed, that would inevitably be accompanied by danger, as well as -reproach. His eye then glanced through the sombre arches of the vault, -till it rested on De Coucy with a sort of measuring fixedness, as if -he sought to ascertain the exact space between himself and the knight.</p> - -<p class="normal">Satisfied on this point, he turned again to Arthur.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Well, fair nephew," said he, with that kind of irony which he seldom -banished from his lips, "for three years I asked you in vain to honour -my poor court with your noble presence. You have come at last, and -doubtless the reception I have given you is such, that you will never -think of departing from a place where you may be hospitably -entertained for life. How love you prison walls, fair nephew?"</p> - -<p class="normal">Arthur replied not; but, casting himself again upon the settle, -covered his eyes as before, and seemed, from the quick rise and fall -of his shoulders, to weep bitterly.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Sir King," said De Coucy, interposing indignantly, "thou art, then, -even more cruel than report gives thee out. Must thou needs add the -torture of thy words to the tyranny of thine actions. In the name of -God! bad man, leave this place of wretchedness, and give thy nephew, -at least, such tranquillity as a prison may afford."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Ha! beau sire de Coucy," cried John with an unaltered tone. "Methinks -thou art that gallant knight who proclaimed Arthur Plantagenet King of -England in the heart of Mirebeau. His kingdom is a goodly one," he -continued, looking round the chamber, "gay and extensive is it! He has -to thank thee much for it!--Let me tell thee, sir knight," he added, -raising his voice and knitting his brow, "to the bad counsels of thee, -and such as thee, Arthur Plantagenet owes all his sorrows and -captivity. Ye have poisoned his ear against his kindred; ye have -raised up in him ambitious thoughts that become him not; ye have -taught him to think himself a king; and ye have cast him down from a -prince to a prisoner."</p> - -<p class="normal">John spoke loudly and angrily, and at the sound the door of the vault -was pushed open, showing the form of a man-at-arms about to enter, -followed by several others. But the king waved them back with his -hand, and turning to Arthur, he proceeded:--"Hearken to me, nephew! -The way to free yourself, and to return to the bright world from which -you are now cut off, is free and open before you."<a name="div4Ref_23" href="#div4_23"><sup>[23]</sup></a></p> - -<p class="normal">Arthur raised his head.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Renounce your claim to kingdoms you shall never possess, and cast -from you expectations you can never realise, and you shall be free -to-morrow. I will restore to you your duchy of Brittany; I will give -you a portion befitting a Plantagenet; and I will treat you kindly as -my brother's son. What would you more? You shall have the friendship -and protection of the King of England."</p> - -<p class="normal">"I would rather have the enmity of the King of France," cried Arthur, -starting up, as the long catalogue of all John's base perfidies rushed -across his mind, coupled with the offer of his friendship--"I would -rather have the enmity of the King of France! There is always some -resource in the generosity of a true knight."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Thou art a fool, stubborn boy!" cried John, his eye flashing and his -lip curling at his nephew's bold reply--"thou art a stubborn fool! Are -not the kings of France the hereditary enemies of our race?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"Philip of France is my godfather in chivalry," replied Arthur, -drawing somewhat nearer to De Coucy, as if for protection from the -wrath that was gathering on his uncles brow, "and I would rather place -my confidence in him, than in one who wronged my uncle Richard, who -wronged my father Geoffrey, and who has broken his word even in -respect to me, by thrusting me into a prison, when he promised his -barons, as they themselves have told me, to leave me at liberty and to -treat me well. He that breaks his word is no good knight, and I tell -thee, John of Anjou, thou art false and foresworn!"</p> - -<p class="normal">John lost his habitual command over his countenance in the excess of -his wrath; and his features seemed actually to change under the -vehemence of his passion. He set his teeth; he clenched his left hand, -as if he would have buried his finger-nails in the palm; and, -thrusting his right under his crimson mantle, he evidently drew some -weapon from its sheath. But at that moment, De Coucy, taking one -stride in advance, opposed himself between the king and his nephew, -and with his head thrown back, and his broad chest displayed, prepared -at all risks to seize the tyrant, and dash him to atoms if he offered -any violence to the unhappy youth that fortune had cast into his -power.</p> - -<p class="normal">John, however, possessed not the heart, even had he been armed in -proof, to encounter a knight like De Coucy, though unarmed; and, -sheathing again his dagger, he somewhat smoothed his look.</p> - -<p class="normal">"By St. Paul!" he cried, taking pains, however, not to affect coolness -too suddenly, lest the rapidity of the transition should betray its -falseness, but carefully letting his anger appear to be slow in -subsiding--"by St. Paul! Arthur Plantagenet, thou wilt drive me mad! -Wert thou not my brother's son, I would strike thee with my dagger! I -came to thee, to give thee liberty, if this taste of imprisonment had -taught thee to yield thy empty pretensions to a crown thou canst never -win; and thou meetest me with abuse and insult. The consequences be on -thine own head, minion! I have dungeons deeper than this, and chains -that may weigh somewhat heavy on those frail limbs!"</p> - -<p class="normal">"Neither dungeons nor chains," replied the gallant boy firmly, "no, -nor death itself, shall make me renounce my rights of birth! You judge -me cowardly, by the tears I shed but now; but I tell thee, that though -I be worn with this close prison, and broken by sorrow, I fear not to -meet death, rather than yield what I am bound in honour to maintain. -England, Anjou, Guyenne, Touraine, are mine in right of my father; -Brittany comes to me from my mother, its heiress; and, even in the -grave, my bones shall claim the land, and my tomb proclaim thee an -usurper!"</p> - -<p class="normal">"Ha!" said John, "ha!" and there was a sneering accent on the last -monosyllable that was but too fatally explained afterwards. "Be it as -thou wilt, fair nephew," he added with a smile of dark and bitter -meaning--"be it as thou wilt;" and he was turning to leave the -apartment.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Hold, sir, yet one moment!" cried De Coucy. "One word on my account. -When I yielded my sword to William of Salisbury, your noble brother, -it was under the express promise that I should be treated well and -knightly; and he was bound, in delivering me to you, to make the same -stipulation in my behalf. If he did do it, you have broken your word. -If he did not do it, he has broken his; and one or other I will -proclaim a false traitor, in every court of Europe."</p> - -<p class="normal">John heard him to an end; and then, after eyeing him from head to foot -in silence, with an air of bitter triumphant contempt, he opened the -door and passed out, without deigning to make the least reply. The -door closed behind him--the heavy bolts were pushed forward--and -Arthur and De Coucy once more stood alone, cut off from all the world.</p> - -<p class="normal">The young captive gazed on his fellow-prisoner for a moment or two, -with a glance in which the agitation of a weakened frame and a -depressed mind might be traced struggling with a sense of dignity and -firmness.</p> - -<p class="normal">De Coucy endeavoured to console him; but the prince raised his hand, -with an imploring look, as if the very name of comfort were a mockery. -"Have I acted well, sir knight?" he asked. "Have I spoken as became -me?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"Well and nobly have you acted, fair prince," replied De Coucy, "with -courage and dignity worthy your birth and station."</p> - -<p class="normal">"That is enough then!" said Arthur--"that is enough!" and, with a deep -and painful sigh, he cast himself again upon the seat; and, once more -burying his face on his arms, let the day flit by him without even a -change of position.</p> - -<p class="normal">In the mean while, De Coucy, with his arms folded on his breast, paced -up and down the vaulted chamber, revolving thoughts nearly as bitter -as those of his fellow-captive. Mirebeau had proved as fatal to him as -to Arthur. It had cast down his all. Arthur had struck for kingdoms, -and he had struck for glory and fortune--the object of both, however, -was happiness, though the means of the one was ambition, and of the -other, love. Both had cast their all upon the stake, and both had -lost. He, too, had to mourn then the passing away of his last hopes, -the bright dream of love, and all the gay and delightful fabrics that -imagination had built up upon its fragile base. They had fallen in -ruins round him; and his heart sickened when he thought of all that a -long captivity might effect in extinguishing the faint, faint -glimmering of hope which yet shone upon his fate.</p> - -<p class="normal">Thus passed the hours till night began to fall; and all the various -noises of the town,--the shouts of the boatmen on the river, the -trampling of the horses in the streets, the busy buzz of many thousand -tongues, the cries of the merchants in the highways, and the rustling -tread of all the passers to and fro, which during the day had risen in -a confused hum to the chamber in which they were confined, died one by -one away; and nothing was at length heard but the rippling of the -waters of the Seine, then at high tide, washing against the very -foundations of the tower.</p> - -<p class="normal">It was now the hour at which a lamp was usually brought them; and -Arthur raised his head, as if anxious for its coming.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Enguerand is late to-night," said he. "But I forgot; I heard my uncle -discharge him from his office. Perhaps the new governor will not give -us any light. Yet, hark! I hear his footstep. He is lighting the -lantern in the passage."</p> - -<p class="normal">He was apparently right, for steps approached, stopping twice for a -moment or two, as if to fulfil some customary duty, and then coming -nearer, they paused at the door of their prison. The bolts were -withdrawn, and a stranger, bearing a lamp, presented himself. His face -was certainly not very prepossessing, but it was not strikingly -otherwise; and Arthur, who with a keen though timid eye scanned every -line in his countenance, was beginning in some degree to felicitate -himself on the change of his jailer, when the stranger turned and -addressed him in a low and somewhat unsteady voice.</p> - -<p class="normal">"My lord," said he, "you must follow me; as I am ordered to give you a -better apartment. The sire De Coucy must remain here till the upper -chamber is prepared."</p> - -<p class="normal">Fear instantly seized upon Arthur. "I will not leave him," cried he, -running round the pillar, and clinging to De Coucy's arm. "This -chamber is good enough; I want no other."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Your hand is not steady, sirrah!" said De Coucy, taking the lamp from -the man, and holding it to his pale face. "Your lip quivers, and your -cheek is as blanched as a templar's gown."</p> - -<p class="normal">"'Tis the shaking fever I caught in the marshes by Du Clerc," replied -the other; "but what has that to do with the business of Prince -Arthur, beau sire?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"Because we doubt foul play, varlet," replied De Coucy, "and you speak -not with the boldness of good intent."</p> - -<p class="normal">"If any ill were designed, either to you or to the prince," replied -the man more boldly, "'t would be easily accomplished, without such -ceremony. A flight of arrows, shot through your doorway, would leave -you both as dead as the saints in their graves."</p> - -<p class="normal">"That is true too!" answered De Coucy, looking to Arthur, who still -clung close to his arm. "What say you, my prince?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"It matters little what the duke says, beau sire," said the jailer, -interposing, "for he <i>must</i> come. Several of the great barons have -returned to the court sooner than the king expected; and he would not -have them find prince Arthur here, it seems. So, if he come not by -fair means, I must e'en have up the guard, and take him to his chamber -by force."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Ha!" said Arthur, somewhat loosening his hold of De Coucy's arm. -"What barons are returned, sayest thou?</p> - -<p class="normal">"I know not well," said the jailer carelessly; "Lord Pembroke I saw go -by, and I heard of good William with the Longsword; but I marked not -the names of the others, though I was told them."</p> - -<p class="normal">Arthur looked to De Coucy as if for advice. "The ague fit has -marvellously soon passed," said the knight, fixing his eyes sternly -upon the stranger. "By the holy rood! if I thought that thou playedst -us false, I would dash thy brains out against the wall!"</p> - -<p class="normal">"I play you not false, sir knight," replied the man in an impatient -tone. "Come, my lord," he continued to Arthur, "come quickly, for come -you must. You will find some fresh apparel in the other chamber. -To-morrow they talk of having you to the court; for these proud lords, -they say, murmur at your being kept here."</p> - -<p class="normal">There was a vague suspicion of some treachery still rested on the mind -of De Coucy. The man's story was probable. It was more than probable, -it was very likely; but yet the knight did not believe it, he knew not -why. On Arthur, however, it had its full effect. He was aware that -lord Pembroke, together with several of the greater barons of England, -had wrung a promise for his safety, from king John, long before the -relief of Mirebeau; and he doubted not that to their remonstrance he -owed this apparent intention to alleviate his imprisonment.</p> - -<p class="normal">"I must leave you, I am afraid, beau sire de Coucy," said the prince. -"I would fain stay here; but, I fear me, it is vain to resist."</p> - -<p class="normal">"I fear me so too," replied the knight. "Farewell, my noble prince! We -shall often think of each other, though separated. Farewell!"</p> - -<p class="normal">De Coucy took the unhappy boy in his arms, and pressed him for a -moment to his heart, as if he had been parting with a brother or a -child. He could no way explain his feelings at that moment. They had -long been companions in many of those bitter hours which endear people -to each other, more perhaps than even hours of mutual happiness; but -there was something in his bosom beyond the pain of parting with a -person whose fate had even thus been united with his own. He felt that -he saw Arthur Plantagenet for the last time; and he gave him, as it -were, the embrace of the dying.</p> - -<p class="normal">He would not, however, communicate his own apprehensions to the bosom -of the prince; and, unfolding his arms, he watched him while, with a -step still hesitating, he approached the doorway.</p> - -<p class="normal">The jailer followed, and held open the door for him to pass out. -Arthur, however, paused for a moment, and turned a timid glance -towards De Coucy, as if there was some misdoubting in his bosom too; -then, suddenly passing his hand over his brow, as if to clear away -irresolution, he passed the doorway.</p> - -<p class="normal">The instant he entered the passage beyond, he stopped, exclaiming, "It -is my uncle!" and turned to rush back into the cell; but before he -could accomplish it, or De Coucy could start forward to assist him, -the new jailer passed out, pushed the unhappy prince from the -threshold, and shutting the door, fastened it with bolt after bolt.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Now, minion," cried a voice without, which De Coucy could not doubt -was that of king John, "wilt thou brave me as thou didst this -morning?--Begone, slave!" he added, apparently speaking to the jailer; -"quick! begone!" and then again turning to his nephew, he poured upon -him a torrent of vehement and angry vituperation.</p> - -<p class="normal">In that dark age such proceedings could have but one purpose, and De -Coucy, comprehending them at once, glanced round the apartment in -search of some weapon wherewith he might force the door; but it was in -vain--nothing presented itself. The door was cased with iron, and the -strength of Herculus would not have torn it from its hinges. Glaring -then like a lion in a cage, the knight stood before it, listening for -what was to follow,--doubting not for a moment the fearful object of -the bad and bloodthirsty monarch,--his heart swelling with indignation -and horror, and yet perfectly impotent to prevent the crime that he -knew was about to be perpetrated.</p> - -<p class="normal">"John of Anjou!" he cried, shouting through the door. "Bloodthirsty -tyrant! beware what you do! Deeply shall you repent your baseness, if -you injure but a hair of his head! I will brand your name with shame -throughout Europe! I will publish it before your barons to your teeth! -You are overheard, villain, and your crime shall not sleep in secret!"</p> - -<p class="normal">But, in the dreadful scene passing without, neither nephew nor uncle -seemed to heed his call. There was evidently a struggle, as if the -king endeavoured to free himself from the agonised clasp of Arthur, -whose faint voice was heard, every now and then, praying in vain for -mercy, at the hands of the hard-hearted tyrant in whose power he was. -At length the struggle seemed to grow fainter. A loud horrific cry -rang echoing through the passages; and then a heavy, deadly fall, as -if some mass of unelastic clay were cast at once upon the hollow stone -of the pavement. Two or three deep groans followed; and then a -distinct blow, as if a weapon of steel, stabbed through some softer -matter, struck at last against a block of stone. A retreating step was -heard; then whispering voices; then, shortly after, the paddling of a -boat in the water below the tower--a heavy plunge in the stream--and -all was silent.<a name="div4Ref_24" href="#div4_24"><sup>[24]</sup></a></p> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<h3>CHAPTER III.</h3> -<br> - -<p class="continue">No language can express the joy that spread over the face of France, -when the first peal from the steeples of the churches announced that -the interdict was raised--that the nation was once more to be held as -a Christian people--that the barrier was cast down which had separated -it from the pale of the church. Labour, and care, and sorrow seemed -suspended. The whole country rang with acclamations; and so crowded -were the churches, when the gates were first thrown open, that several -hundred serfs were crushed to death in the struggle for admission.</p> - -<p class="normal">Every heart was opened--every face beamed with delight; and the aspect -of the whole land was as glad and bright, as if salvation had then -first descended upon earth. There were but two beings, in all the -realm, to whom that peal sounded unjoyfully; and to them it rang like -the knell of death. Agnes de Meranie heard it on her knees, and -mingled her prayers with tears. Philip Augustus listened to it with a -dark and frowning brow; and, striding up and down his solitary hall, -he commented on each echoing clang, with many a deep and bitter -thought. "They rejoice," said he mentally--"they rejoice in my misery. -They ring a peal to celebrate my disappointment; but each stroke of -that bell breaks a link of the chain that held them together, secure -from my vengeance. Let them beware! Let them beware! or that peal -shall be the passing bell to many a proud knight and rebellious -baron."</p> - -<p class="normal">Philip's calculations were not wrong. During the existence of the -interdict, the nobles of France had been held together in their -opposition to the monarch, by a bond entwined of several separate -parts, which were all cut at once by the king's submission to the -papal authority. The first tie had been general superstition; but this -would have hardly proved strong enough to unite them powerfully -together, had the cause of Philip's opposition to the church been any -thing but entirely personal. In his anger, too, the king had for a -moment forgotten his policy, and added another tie to that which -existed before. Instead of courting public opinion to his support, he -had endeavoured to compel his unwilling barons to co-operate in his -resistance; and by severity and oppression, wherever his will was -opposed, had complicated the bond of union amongst his vassals, which -the interdict had first begun to twine.</p> - -<p class="normal">The moment, however, that the papal censure was removed, all those who -had not really suffered from the king's wrath fell off from the league -against him; and many of the others, on whom his indignation had -actually fallen, whether from blind fear or clear-sighted policy, -judged that safety was no longer to be found but in his friendship, -and made every advance to remove his anger.</p> - -<p class="normal">Philip repelled none. Those on whose services he could best rely, and -whose aid was likely to be most useful, he met with courtesy and -frankness, remitted the fines he had exacted, restored the feofs he -had forfeited, and, by the voluntary reparation of the oppression he -had committed, won far more upon opinion, than he had lost by the -oppression itself. Those, however, who still murmured, or held back, -he struck unsparingly. He destroyed their strong holds, he forfeited -their feofs, and thus, joining policy and vengeance, he increased his -own power, he punished the rebellious, he scared his enemies, and he -added many a fair territory to his own domain.</p> - -<p class="normal">The eyes of the pope were still upon France; and seeing that the power -for which he had made such an effort was falling even by the height to -which he had raised it; that the barons were beginning to sympathise -and co-operate with the king; and that those who still remained in -opposition to the monarch were left now exposed to the full effects of -his anger; Innocent resolved at once to make new efforts, both by -private intrigue, and by another daring exercise of his power, to -establish firmly what he had already gained.</p> - -<p class="normal">Amidst those who still remained discontented in France, he spared no -means to maintain that discontent; and amidst Philip's external -enemies he spread the project of that tremendous league, which -afterwards, gathering force like an avalanche, rolled on with -overwhelming power, in spite of all the efforts which Innocent at last -thought fit to oppose to it, when he found that the mighty engine -which he had first put in motion threatened to destroy himself. At the -same time, to give these schemes time to acquire maturity and -strength, and to break the bond of union which war always creates -between a brave nation and a warlike monarch, he prepared to interpose -between John of England and Philip Augustus, and to command the -latter, with new threats of excommunication in case of disobedience, -to abandon the glorious course that he was pursuing in person on the -right of the Loire, at the moment when we have seen him despatch -Arthur to carry on the war on the left.</p> - -<p class="normal">It was somewhere about the period of the events we have related in our -last chapter, and winter had compelled Philip to close the campaign -which he had been pursuing against John with his wonted activity, -when, one morning, as he sat framing his plans of warfare for the -ensuing year, a conversation to the following effect took place -between him and Guerin.</p> - -<p class="normal">"--And then for Rouen!" said the king. "Thus cut off from all -supplies, as I have showed you, and beleaguered by such an army as I -can bring against it, it cannot hold out a month. But we must be -sudden, Guerin, in our movements, carefully avoiding any demonstration -of our intentions, till we sit down before the place, lest John should -remove our poor Arthur, and thus foil us in the chief point of our -enterprise. Three more such bright sunshining mornings as this, and I -will call my men to the <i>monstre</i>. God send us an early spring!"</p> - -<p class="normal">"I fear me much, sire, that the pope will interfere," replied Guerin; -"repeated couriers are passing between Rome and England. He has -already remonstrated strongly against the war; and, I little doubt, -will endeavour, by all means, to put a stop to it."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Ha, say'st thou?" said the king, looking up with a smile, from a rude -plan of the city of Rouen, round which he was drawing the lines of an -encampment. "God send he may interfere, Guerin! He has triumphed over -me once, good friend. It is time that I should triumph over him."</p> - -<p class="normal">"But are you sure of being able to do so, sire?" demanded Guerin, with -his usual simple frankness, putting the naked truth before the king's -eyes, without one qualifying phrase! "The pleasure of resistance -would, methinks, be too dear bought, at the expense of a second -defeat. The pope is strengthening himself by alliances. But yesterday -the Duke of Burgundy informed me, that six successive messengers from -the holy see had passed through his territories within a month, all -either bound to Otho the emperor, or to Ferrand count of Flanders."</p> - -<p class="normal">Philip listened with somewhat of an abstracted air. His eye fixed upon -vacancy, as if he were gazing on the future; and yet it was evident -that he listened still, for a smile of triumphant consciousness in his -own powers glanced from time to time across his lip, as the minister -touched upon the machinations of his enemies.</p> - -<p class="normal">"I fear me, sire," continued Guerin, "that your bold resistance to the -will of the pontiff has created you at Rome an enemy that it will not -be easy to appease."</p> - -<p class="normal">"God send it!" was all Philip's reply, uttered with the same absent -look, as if his mind was still busy with other matters. "God send it, -Guerin! God send it!"</p> - -<p class="normal">The minister was mute; and, after a momentary pause on both sides, -Philip Augustus started up, repeating in a louder voice, as if -impatient of the silence, "God send it, I say, Guerin! for, if he does -commit that gross mistake in meddling in matters where he has no -pretence of religious authority to support him in the eyes of the -superstitious crowd, by the Lord that lives! I will crush him like a -hornet that has stung me!"</p> - -<p class="normal">"But, my lord, consider," said Guerin, "consider that--"</p> - -<p class="normal">"Consider!" interrupted the king. "I have considered, Guerin! Think -you I am blind, my friend? Think you I do not see? I tell thee, -Guerin, I look into the workings of this pope's mind as clearly as -ever did prophet of old into the scheme of futurity. He hates me -nobly, I know it--with all the venom of a proud and passionate heart. -He hates me profoundly, and I hate him as well. Thank God for that! I -would not meet him but on equal terms; and, I tell thee, Guerin, I see -all which that hatred may produce."</p> - -<p class="normal">The king paused, and took two or three strides in the apartment, as if -to compose himself, and give his thoughts a determinate form; for he -had lashed himself already into no small anger, with the very thoughts -of the hatred between the proud prelate and himself. In a few moments -he stopped, and, sitting down again, looked up in the face of the -minister, somewhat smiling at his own vehemence. Yet there was -something bitter in the smile too, from remembrance of the events -which had first given rise to his enmity towards the pope. After this -had passed away, he leaned his cheek upon his hand, and, still looking -up, marked the emphasis of his discourse with the other hand, laying -it from time to time on the sleeve of the minister's gown.</p> - -<p class="normal">"I see it all, Guerin," said he, "and I am prepared for all. This -arrogant prelate, with his pride elevated by his late triumph, and his -heart embittered by my resistance, will do all that man can do to -overthrow me. In the first place, he will endeavour to stop my -progress against that base unknightly king--John of Anjou: but he will -fail, for my barons have already acknowledged the justice of the war; -and I have already ten written promises to support me against Rome -itself, should Rome oppose me. There is the engagement of the Duke of -Burgundy. Read that."</p> - -<p class="normal">Guerin took up the parchment to which the king pointed, and read a -clear and positive agreement, on the part of the Duke of Burgundy, to -aid Philip, with all his knights and vassals, against John of England, -in despite of even the thunders of the church--to march and fight at -his command during the whole of that warfare, how long soever it might -last; and never either to lay down his arms, or to make peace, truce, -or treaty, either with the king of England, or the bishop of Rome, -without the express consent and order of Philip himself.</p> - -<p class="normal">Guerin was surprised; for though he well knew that--notwithstanding -his own office--the king transacted the greater part of the high -political negotiations of the kingdom himself, and often without the -entire knowledge of any one, yet he had hardly thought that such -important arrangements could have been made totally unknown to him. It -was so, however; and Philip, not remarking his minister's -astonishment--for, as we have said before, the countenance of Guerin -was not very apt to express any of the emotions of his mind--proceeded -to comment on the letter he had shown him.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Ten such solemn agreements have I obtained from my great vassals," -said he, "and each can bring full two thousand men into the field. -But still, Guerin, it is not the immense power that this affords -me--greater than I have ever possessed since I sat upon the throne of -France--'tis not the power that yields me the greatest pleasure; but -it is, that herein is the seed of resistance to the papal authority; -and I will water it so well, that it shall grow up into a tall tree, -under whose shadow I may sit at ease.--Mark me, Guerin, and remember! -Henceforth, never shall an interdict be again cast upon the realm of -France,--never shall pope or prelate dare to excommunicate a French -king; and should such a thing be by chance attempted, it shall be but -as the idle wind that hisses at its own emptiness. The seed is there," -continued he, striking his hand proudly on the parchment,--"the seed -is there, and it shall spread far and wide."</p> - -<p class="normal">"But even should the greater part of your barons enter into this -compact, sire," said Guerin, "you may be crushed by a coalition from -without. I do not wish to be the prophet of evil; but I only seek to -place the question in every point of view. Might not then, sire, the -coalition of the pope, the emperor, and the King of England--?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"Might wage war with me, but could never conquer, if France were true -to France," interrupted the monarch. "Guerin, I tell thee, that an -united nation was never overcome, and never shall be, so long as the -world does last. The fate of a nation is always in its own hands. Let -it be firm, and it is safe."</p> - -<p class="normal">"But we unfortunately know, sire," said the minister, with a doubtful -shake of the head, "that France is not united. Many, many of the royal -vassals, and those some of the most powerful, cannot be depended on. -Ferrand, count of Flanders, for instance. I need not tell you, sire, -that he waits but an opportunity to throw off his allegiance. There -are many more. Count Julian of the Mount has been openly a follower of -the court of John of England; and though he is now on his lands, -doubtless preparing all for revolt, he has left his daughter, they -say, as security for his faith at the court of Rouen. May we not -suppose, sire, that, when the moment comes which is to try men's -hearts in this affair, we shall find thousands who--either from fear -of the papal censure--or from personal enmity--or a treacherous and -fickle disposition--or some one of all the many, many circumstances -that sow treasons in time of danger and trouble--will fall off from -you at the instant you want them most, and go over to swell the ranks -of your enemies?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"I do not believe it," replied Philip thoughtfully,--"I do not believe -it! The pope's authority in a war unconnected with any affair of the -church will have small effect, and if exerted, will, like a reed in a -child's hand, break itself at the first impotent blow. Besides, I much -doubt whether Innocent would now exert it against me if it were to be -used in favour of Otho of Saxony. He hates me, true! He hates me more -than he hates any other king; but yet, Guerin, but yet I see a thread -mingling with the web of yon pope's policy that may make it all run -down. Again, the war against John is a national, and must be a -popular, war. I will take care that it shall not be stretched till -France is weary of it; and John's weakness, joined with Innocent's -insolence, will soon make it a war against the nation generally, not -against the king personally. The barons will find that they are -defending themselves, while they defend me; and I will divide the -lands of him who turns traitor, amongst those that remain true. I tell -thee, Guerin, I tell thee, I would not for the world that this pope -should slacken his hand, or abate one atom of his pride. He is sowing -enemies, my friend; and he shall reap an iron harvest."</p> - -<p class="normal">Philip's eyes flashed as his thoughts ran on into the future. His -brow knit sternly; his hand clasped tight the edge of the table by -which he was seated, and after a moment or two of silence, he burst -forth:--"Let him but give me the means of accustoming my barons to -resist his usurped power--one great victory--and then!"</p> - -<p class="normal">"Then what, sire?" demanded the hospitaller calmly, his unimpassioned -mind not following the quick and lightning-like turns of Philip's -rapid feelings--"then, what?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"Agnes!" exclaimed Philip, starting up and grasping Guerin's -arm--"Agnes and vengeance! By Heaven! it glads my very soul to see -Innocent's machinations against me--machinations that, either by the -ingratitude of others, or my revenge, shall fall, certainly fall, like -a thunderbolt on his head. Let him raise up pomp-loving Otho, that -empty mockery of a Cæsar! Let him call in crafty, fickle, bloodthirsty -John, with his rebellious, disaffected barons! Let him join them with -boasting Ferrand of Flanders! Let him add Italian craft to German -stubbornness! Let him cast his whole weight of power upon the die! I -will stake my being against it, and perish, or avenge my wrongs, and -recover what I have lost!"</p> - -<p class="normal">"I fear me, sire--" said Guerin.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Speak not to me of fear!" interrupted the king. "I tell thee, good -friend, that in my day I have seen but one man fit to cope with a -king--I mean, Richard of England. He is gone--God rest his soul!--but -he was a good knight and a great warrior, and might have been a great -king, if fate had spared him till time had taken some of the lion's -worst part from his heart, and sprinkled some cooler wisdom on his -brow. But he is gone, and has left none like him behind. As for the -others, I will make their necks but steps to gain the height from -which my arm may reach to Rome."</p> - -<p class="normal">"'Tis a far way to Rome! sire," replied Guerin, "and many have -stretched their arm to reach it, and failed in the attempt. I need not -remind you of the Emperor Frederic, sire, who struggled in vain to -resist."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Nor of Philip of France, you would say," interposed the king, with a -gloomy smile that implied perhaps pain, but not anger. "Philip of -France!" he repeated, "who strove but to retain the wife of his bosom, -when a proud priest bade him cast her from him--and he too failed! But -Philip of France is not yet dead; and between the to-day and the -to-morrow, which constitute life and death, much may be done. I -failed, Guerin, it is true; but I failed by my own fault. My eyes -dazzled with the mist of passion, I made many a sad mistake; but now, -my eyes are open, my position is changed, and my whole faculties are -bent to watch the errors of my adversaries, and to guard against any -myself. But we will speak no more of this. Were it to cost me crown -and kingdom, life, and even renown, I would thank God for having given -me the means of striking at least one blow for love and vengeance. We -will speak no more of it. The day wears."</p> - -<p class="normal">It needed not the science of an old courtier to understand what the -king's last words implied; and Guerin instantly took his leave, and -left the monarch alone.</p> - -<p class="normal">The truth was, that to thoughts of ambition, schemes of policy, and -projects of vengeance, other ideas had succeeded in the mind of Philip -Augustus. His was a strange state of being. He lived as it were in two -worlds. Like the king of old, he seemed to have two spirits. There was -the one that, bright, and keen, and active, mingled in the busy scenes -of politics and warfare, guiding, directing, raising up, and -overthrowing; and there was another, still, silent, deep, in the -inmost chambers of his heart, yet sharing more, far more, than half -the kingdom of his thoughts, and prompting or commanding all the -actions of the other. It was this spirit that now claimed its turn to -reign exclusively; and Philip gave up all his soul to the memory of -Agnes de Meranie. Here he had a world apart from aught else on earth, -wherein the spirit of deep feeling swayed supreme; and thence issued -that strong control that his heart ever exercised over the bright -spirit of genius and talent, with which he was so eminently endowed.</p> - -<p class="normal">He thought of Agnes de Meranie. The fine chord of association had been -touched a thousand times during his conversation with Guerin, and at -every mention of her name, at every thought that connected itself with -her unhappy fate, fresh sorrows and regrets, memories sweet, though -painful,--most painful, that they were but memories,--came crowding on -his heart, and claiming all its feelings. As soon as the minister was -gone, he called his page, and bade him see if the canon of St. -Berthe's was in attendance. The boy returned in a few minutes, -followed by the wily priest, whom we have already heard of as the -confessor of Agnes de Meranie. Philip's feelings towards him were very -different from those he entertained towards Guerin. There was that -certain sort of doubt in the straightforwardness of his intentions, -which a cunning man,--let him cover his heart with what veil of art he -will,--can hardly ever escape. Philip had no cause to doubt, and yet -he doubted. Nor did he love the plausible kind of eloquence, which the -priest had some pride in displaying; and therefore he treated him with -that proud, cold dignity, which left the subject but little -opportunity of exercising his oratory upon the king.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Good morrow, father," he said, bending his brows upon the canon: -"when last I saw you, you were about to speak to me concerning the -queen, before persons whom I admit not to mingle in my private -affairs. Now answer me, as I shall question you, and remember, a brief -reply is the best. When saw you my wife, the queen?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"It was on the fifth day of the last week," replied the canon, in a -low sweet tone of voice, "and it was with sorrow mingled with hope--"</p> - -<p class="normal">"Bound yourself, in your reply, by my question, sir clerk," said the -king sternly. "I ask you neither your sorrows nor your hopes. How was -the queen in health?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"But frail, if one might judge by her appearance, sire," answered the -priest; "she was very pale, and seemed weak; but she said that she was -well, and indeed, sweet lady, she was like, if I may use a figure--"</p> - -<p class="normal">"Use none, sir," interrupted the king. "Did she take exercise?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"Even too much, I fear, beau sire," replied the canon. "For hours, and -hours, she wanders through the loneliest parts of the forest, sending -from her all her attendants--"</p> - -<p class="normal">"Ha! alone?" cried the king: "does she go alone?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"Entirely, sire," replied the canon of St. Berthe's, whose hopes of a -bishopric in Istria were not yet extinct. "I spoke with the leech -Rigord, whom you commanded to watch over her health; and he did not -deny, that the thing most necessary to the lady's cure was the air of -her own land, and the tending of her own relations; for he judges by -her wanderings, that her mind is hurt, and needs soothing and keeping -afar from the noisy turbulence of the world; as we keep a sick man's -chamber from the glare of the mid-day sun."</p> - -<p class="normal">Philip heard him out, fixing his eyes on the wily priest's face, as if -seeking to trace the cunning in his countenance, that he was sure was -busy at his heart: but the canon kept his look bent upon the ground -while speaking; and, when he had done, judging that his words pleased, -by being indulged in a much longer speech than Philip had ever before -permitted him to make, he raised his eyes to the monarch's face, with -a look of humiliated self-confidence, which, though it betrayed none -of the secrets of his wishes, did not succeed in producing any -favourable impression on the king.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Begone!" said the monarch, in not the most gentle tone possible; but -then, instantly sensible that his dislike to the man might be unjust, -and that his haughtiness was at all events ungenerous, he added, more -mildly, "Leave me, good father--I would be alone. Neglect not your -charge, and you shall feel the king's gratitude."</p> - -<p class="normal">The canon of St. Berthe's bowed low in silence, and withdrew, -pondering, with not a little mortification, on the apparent -unsuccessfulness of schemes which, though simple enough, if viewed -with the eyes of the world at present, when cunning, like every other -art, has reached the corruption of refinement, were deeply politic in -that age, when slyness was in the simplicity of its infancy.</p> - -<p class="normal">In the mean while, Philip Augustus paused on the same spot where the -priest had left him, in deep thought. "Alone!" muttered he,--"alone! I -have vowed a deep vow, neither to touch her lip, nor enter her -dwelling, nor to speak one word to her, for six long months, without, -prior to that period's return, a council shall have pronounced on my -divorce. But I have not vowed not to see her. I can bear this no -longer! Yon priest tortures me with tales of her sickness! He must -have some dark motive! Yet, she may be sick, too.--Ho! without there!"</p> - -<p class="normal">The page who had before conducted the canon of St. Berthe's to the -presence of the king, now presented himself again.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Gilbert!" said the monarch, "come hither, boy! Thou art of noble -birth; and art faithful and true, I well believe. Now, doubtless, thou -hast learned so much of knightly service, that you know, the page who -babbles of his lord's actions is held dishonoured and base.--Fear not, -youth, I am not angry. If I find you discreet, this hand shall some -day lay knighthood on your shoulder; but, if I find you gossip of my -deeds, it shall strike your ears from your head, and send you forth -like a serf, into the fields. With that warning, speed to the west -hall of the armoury. Thou wilt there find, in the third window from -the door, on the left hand, a casque, with the <i>êventaille</i> cut like a -cross; a haubert, with a steel hood; a double-handed sword; a table of -attente, and other things fitting. Bring them to me hither, and be -quick."</p> - -<p class="normal">The page sped away, proud to be employed by the monarch on an errand -usually reserved for his noblest squires; and returned in a few -minutes, bearing the haubert and the greaves; for the load of the -whole armour would have been too much for his young arms to lift -Another journey brought the casque and sword; and a third, the -brassards and plain polished shield, called a table of attente. The -whole armour was one of those plain and unornamented suits much used -in the first fervour of the crusades, when every other decoration than -that of the cross was considered superfluous.</p> - -<p class="normal">Without other aid than the page could afford, whose hands trembled -with delight at their new occupation, Philip arrayed himself in the -arms that had been brought him; and, taking care to remove every trace -by which he could have been recognised, he put on the casque, which, -opening at the side, had no visor, properly so called; but which, -nevertheless, entirely concealed his face, the only opening, when the -clasps were fastened, being a narrow cruciform aperture in the front, -to admit the light and air. When this was done, he wrote upon a slip -of parchment the simple words, "The king would be alone," and gave -them to the page, as his warrant for preventing any one from entering -his apartment during his absence. He then ordered him to pass the -bridge, from the island to the tower of the Louvre, and to bring a -certain horse, which he described, from the stables of that palace, to -the end of the garden wall; and waiting some minutes after his -departure, to give time for the execution of his commands, the king -rose, and, choosing the least frequented of the many staircases in the -palace, proceeded towards the street.</p> - -<p class="normal">In the court he encountered several of his serjeants-at-arms, and his -other attendants, who gazed coldly at the strange knight, as he -seemed, who, thus encased in complete steel, passed, through them, -without offering or receiving any salutation. Thence he proceeded into -the busy streets; where, so strong was the force of habit, that Philip -started more than once at the want of the reverence to which he was -accustomed; and had to recall the disguise he had assumed, ere he -could fancy the disrespect unintentional.</p> - -<p class="normal">At the spot he had named, he found the page with the horse; but the -sturdy groom, whose charge it was in the stable, stood there also, -fully resolved to let no one mount him without sufficient authority: -nor was it till the sight of the king's signet showed him in whose -presence he stood, that he ceased his resistance. The groom, suddenly -raised to an immense height, in his own conceit, by having become, in -any way, a sharer in the king's secret, winked to the page, and held -the stirrup while the monarch mounted.</p> - -<p class="normal">Philip sprang into the saddle. Laying his finger on the aperture of -the casque, to enjoin secrecy, and adding, in a stern tone, "On your -life!" he turned his horse's head, and galloped away.</p> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<h3>CHAPTER IV.</h3> -<br> - -<p class="continue">It is strange to read what countries once were, and to compare the -pictures old chroniclers have handed down, with the scenes as they lie -before us at present. In the neighbourhood of great capitals, however, -it is, that the hand of man wages the most inveterate war with nature; -and were I to describe the country through which Philip Augustus -passed, as he rode quickly onward towards Mantes, the modern traveller -who had followed that road would search his memory in vain for scenery -that no longer exists. Deep marshes, ancient forests, many a steep -hill and profound valley, with small scattered villages, "like angel -visits, few and far between," surrounded the monarch on his onward -way; and, where scarcely a hundred yards can now be traversed without -meeting many and various of the biped race, Philip Augustus rode over -long miles without catching a glimpse of the human form divine.</p> - -<p class="normal">The king's heart beat high with the thoughts of seeing her he loved, -were it but for one short casual glance at a distance; but, even -independent of such feelings, he experienced a delight, a gladness, a -freedom in the very knowledge that he was concealed from all the -world; and that, while wrapped in the plain arms that covered him, he -was liberated from all the slavery of dignity, and the importunity of -respect. There was a degree of romance in the sensation of his -independence, which we have all felt, more or less, at one time of our -lives, even surrounded as we are by all the shackles of a most -unromantic society, but which affected Philip to a thousandfold -extent, both from his position as a king, and from the wild and -chivalrous age in which he lived.</p> - -<p class="normal">Thus he rode on, amidst the old shadowy oaks that overhung his path, -meditating dreams and adventures that might almost have suited the -knight of La Mancha, but which, in that age, were much more easily -attainable than in the days of Cervantes.</p> - -<p class="normal">Of course, all such ideas were much modified by Philip's peculiar cast -of mind, and by his individual situation; but still the scenery, the -sensation of being freed from restraint, and the first bland air, too, -of the early spring, all had their effect; and as he had himself -abandoned the tedious ceremonies of a court, his mind, in sympathy, as -it seemed, quitted all the intricate and painful mazes of policy, to -roam in bright freedom amidst the wilds of feeling and imagination.</p> - -<p class="normal">Such dreams, however, did not produce a retarded pace, for it wanted -little more than an hour to mid-day; a long journey of forty miles was -before him, and his only chance of accomplishing his purpose was in -arriving during those hours that Agnes might be supposed to wander -alone in the forest, according to the account of the canon of St. -Berthe's. Philip, therefore, spurred on at full speed, and, avoiding -as much as possible the towns, arrived near the spot where Rosny now -stands, towards three o'clock.</p> - -<p class="normal">At that spot, the hills which confine the course of the Seine fall -back in a semicircle from its banks, and leave it to wander through a -wide rich valley for the distance of about half a league, before they -again approach close to the river at Rolleboise.</p> - -<p class="normal">There, however, the chalky banks become high and precipitous, leaving, -in many places, but a narrow road between themselves and the water; -though, at other spots, the river takes a wide turn away, and -interposes a broad meadow between its current and the cliffs.</p> - -<p class="normal">In those days, the whole of the soil in that part of the country was -covered with wood. The hills, and the valleys, and the plains round -Rosny and Rolleboise, were all forest ground; and the trees absolutely -dipped themselves in the Seine. To the left, a little before reaching -the chapel of Notre Dame de Rosny, the road on which Philip had -hitherto proceeded turned off into the heart of Normandy; and such was -the direct way to the castle in which Agnes de Meranie had fixed her -dwelling; but to the right, nearly in the same line as the present -road to Rouen, lay another lesser path, which, crossing the woods in -the immediate vicinity of the château, was the one that Philip judged -fit to follow.</p> - -<p class="normal">The road here first wound along down to the very banks of the Seine; -and then, quitting it at the little hamlet of Rolleboise, mounted the -steep hill, and dipping down rapidly again, skirted between the high -chalky banks on the left, and a small plain of underwood that lay on -the right towards the river.</p> - -<p class="normal">Dug deep into the heart of the cliff, were then to be seen, as now, a -variety of caves said to have been hollowed by the heathen Normans on -their first invasion of France, some yawning and bare, but most of -them covered over with underwood and climbing plants.</p> - -<p class="normal">By the side of one of the largest of these had grown a gigantic oak, -which, stretching its arms above, formed a sort of shady bower round -the entrance. Various signs of its being inhabited struck Philip's eye -as he approached, such as a distinct pathway from the road to the -mouth, and the marks of recent fire; but, as there was at that time -scarcely a forest in France which had not its hermit--and as many of -these, from some strange troglodytical propensity, had abjured all -habitations made with hands--the sight at first excited no surprise in -the bosom of the monarch. It was different, however, when, as he -passed by, he beheld hanging on the lowest of the oak's leafless -branches, a knight's gauntlet, and he almost fancied that one of the -romances of the day were realised, and that the next moment he should -behold some grave enchanter, or some learned sage, issue from the -bowels of the rock, and call upon him to achieve some high and -perilous adventure.</p> - -<p class="normal">He rode by, notwithstanding, without meeting with any such -interruption; and, thoroughly acquainted with every turn in the woods, -he proceeded to a spot where he could see the castle, and a portion of -several of the roads which led to it: and, pushing in his horse -amongst the withered leaves of the underwood, he waited in anxious -hopes of catching but a glance of her he loved.</p> - -<p class="normal">It is in such moments of expectation that imagination is often the -most painfully busy, especially when she has some slight foundation of -reality whereon to build up fears. Philip pictured to himself Agnes, -as he had first seen her in the full glow of youth, and health, and -beauty; and he then remembered her as she had left him, when a few -short months of sorrow and anxiety had blasted the rose upon her -cheek, and extinguished the light of her eye. Yet he felt he loved her -more deeply, more painfully, the pale and faded thing she was then, -than when she had first blessed his arms in all the pride of -loveliness; and many a sad inference did he draw, from the rapidity -with which that change had taken place, in regard to what she might -have since undergone under the pressure of more stinging and -ascertained calamity. Thus, while he watched, he conjured up many a -painful fear, till reality could scarcely have matched his -anticipations.</p> - -<p class="normal">No Agnes, however, appeared; and the king began to deem that the -report of the confessor had been false, when he suddenly perceived the -flutter of white garments on the battlements of the castle. In almost -every person, some one of the senses is, as it were, peculiarly -connected with memory. In some it is the ear; and sounds that have -been heard in former days will waken, the moment they are breathed, -bright associations of lands, and scenes, and hours, from which they -are separated by many a weary mile, and many a long obliterating year. -In others, it is the eye, and forms that have been once seen are never -forgot; while those that are well known, scarce need the slightest, -most casual glance, to be recognised at once, though the distance may -be great, and their appearance but momentary. This was the case with -Philip Augustus; and though what he discerned was but as a vacillating -white spot on the dark grey walls of the castle, it needed no second -glance to tell him that <i>there</i> was Agnes de Meranie. He tied his -horse to one of the shrubs, and with a beating heart sprang out into -the road, to gain a nearer and more satisfactory view of her he loved -best on earth.</p> - -<p class="normal">Secure in the concealment of his armour, he approached close to the -castle, and came under the wall, just as Agnes, followed by one of her -women, turned upon the battlements. Her cheek was indeed ashy pale, -with the clear line of her brown eyebrow marked more distinctly than -ever on the marble whiteness of her forehead. She walked with her -hands clasped, in an attitude that spoke that utter hopelessness in -all earth's things, which sees no resource on this side of the grave; -and her eyes were fixed unmovingly on the ground.</p> - -<p class="normal">Philip gazed as he advanced, not doubting that the concealment of his -armour was sure; but at that moment, the clang of the steel woke Agnes -from her reverie. She turned her eyes to where he stood. Heaven knows -whether she recognised him or not; but she paused suddenly, and -stretching her clasped hands towards him, she gazed as if she had seen -a vision, murmured a few inarticulate words, and fell back into the -arms of the lady who followed her.</p> - -<p class="normal">Philip sprang towards the gate of the castle, and already stood under -the arch of the barbican, when the vow that the pope had exacted from -him, not to pass the threshold of her dwelling till the lawfulness of -his divorce was decided, flashed across his mind, and he paused. Upon -a promise, that that decision should be within one half year, he had -pledged his knightly honour to forbear--that decision had not yet been -given; but the half-year was not near expired, and the tie of a -knightly vow he dared not violate, however strong might be the -temptation.</p> - -<p class="normal">The grate of the barbican was open, and at the distance of a few yards -within its limits stood several of the soldiers of the guard, with the -prévôt. Not a little surprise was excited amongst these by the sudden -approach of an armed knight, and at his as sudden pause.</p> - -<p class="normal">"What seek ye, sir knight?" demanded the prévôt,--"what seek ye here?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"News of the queen's health," replied the monarch. "I am forbidden to -pass the gate; but, I pray thee, sir prévôt, send to inquire how fares -the queen this morning."</p> - -<p class="normal">The officer willingly complied, though he somewhat marvelled at the -stranger's churlishness in resting without the threshold. The reply -brought from within by the messenger was that the queen had been -seized but a few minutes before by one of those swoons that so much -afflicted her, but that she had already recovered, and was better and -more cheerful since. The message, the man added, had been dictated by -the lady herself, which showed that she was better indeed, for in -general she seldom spoke to any one.</p> - -<p class="normal">It fell like a sweet drop of balm upon Philip's heart. There was -something told him that he had been recognised, and that Agnes had -been soothed and pleased, by the romantic mark of his love that he had -given; that she had felt for him, and with him; and dictated the reply -he had received, in order to give back to his bosom the alleviation -that his coming had afforded to her. With these sweet imaginations he -fell into a deep reverie, and forgetful of the eyes that were upon -him, paused for several minutes before the barbican, and then, slowly -returning on his steps, descended the hill to the thicket, where he -had left his horse; and throwing the bridle over his arm, led him on -the path by which he had come.</p> - -<p class="normal">"The churl!" said one of the soldiers, looking after him. "He did not -vouchsafe one word of thanks for our doing his errand."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Another madman! I will warrant thee!" said a second archer.</p> - -<p class="normal">"He is no madman that," replied the prévôt thoughtfully. "Put your -fingers on your lips, and hold your tongues, good fellows! I have -heard that voice before;" and, with a meaning nod of the head, he -quitted the barbican, and left the soldiers to unravel his mystery if -they could.</p> - -<p class="normal">In the meanwhile the king proceeded slowly on his way, chewing the cud -of sweet and bitter fancies, till he came near the same range of caves -which he had passed about an hour before. Every thing was still in the -same state; and no human being was visible. The gauntlet remained upon -the tree, seemingly only to have been touched by the wind of heaven; -and, scarcely thinking what he did, Philip approached, and reaching it -with his hand, took it down from the bough to which it was suspended.</p> - -<p class="normal">As he did so, however, a noise in the cave showed him that his action -was not without a witness; and, in a moment after, a tall, powerful -man issued forth, and advanced towards him. He was clothed in plate -armour, somewhat rusted with the damp; but the fine tracery of gold, -by which it had been ornamented, was still visible; and the spurs and -belt which he wore proclaimed him a knight. He held his casque in his -hand, busying himself as he advanced to disentangle the lacings of it, -as if in haste to put it on; and his head was bare, exposing a -profusion of long tangled dark hair, which was just beginning to be -slightly touched with grey. His face was as pale as ashes, and wan -beyond all mortal wanness; and in his large dark eyes there shone a -brilliant, wavering, uncertain fire, not to be mistaken for aught but -insanity.</p> - -<p class="normal">The king gazed on him, at once recognising his person; but hardly able -to believe that, in the wild lunatic before him, he saw the calm, -cold, tranquil Thibault of Auvergne.</p> - -<p class="normal">In the meanwhile the count came forward, impatiently twisting in his -haste the already tangled lacings of his helmet into still more -intricate knots.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Now, discourteous knight!--now!" cried he, glaring on the -king,--"now will I do battle with thee on the cause; and make you -confess that she is queen of France, and true and lawful wife of -Philip the king! Wait but till I have laced my casque, and, on horse -or on foot, I will give thee the lie! What! has the pope at length -sent thee to Mount Libanus to defy me? I tell thee, miscreant, I will -prove it against him, and all his host!"</p> - -<p class="normal">The first thought that passed through the brain of Philip Augustus, -was the memory of his ancient hatred to the unfortunate Count -d'Auvergne, and the revived desire of vengeance for the injury he -believed him to have attempted against him. Those feelings, however, -in their full force, soon left him; and pity for the unhappy state in -which he saw him, though it could not remove his dislike, put a bar -against his anger. "I come not to defy you, sir knight," said the -king. "You mistake me. I am a stranger wandering this way----"</p> - -<p class="normal">"The glove! the glove!" cried the count, interrupting him. "You have -taken down my glove--you have accepted the challenge. Have I not -written it up all over Mount Libanus, that whoever denies her to be -his lawful wife shall die? If you draw not your sword, I will cleave -you down as a traitor, and proclaim you a coward too. In Jerusalem and -in Ascalon, before the hosts of the crescent and the cross, I will -brand you as a felon, a traitor, and a coward.--Draw, draw, if you be -knight and noble!"</p> - -<p class="normal">So saying, he cast his casque away from him on the ground; and, -drawing his broadsword, rushed upon Philip with the fury of a lion. -Self-defence became now absolutely necessary, for the king well knew -that he was opposed to one of the best and most skilful knights of -Christendom, whose madness was no hindrance to his powers as a -man-at-arms; and consequently, loosing the bridle of his horse, he -drew his sword, and prepared to repel the madman's attack.</p> - -<p class="normal">The conflict was long and desperate, though, had not the natural -generosity of his disposition interfered, the king possessed an -infinite advantage over the Count d'Auvergne, whose head was, as we -have said, totally undefended. He refrained, however, from aiming one -blow at that vulnerable part of his antagonist's person, till his -scruples had nearly cost him his life, by the rings of his haubert -giving way upon his left shoulder. The Count d'Auvergne saw his -advantage, and pressed on with all the blind fury of insanity, at the -same time leaving his head totally unguarded. The heat of the combat -had irritated the monarch, and he now found it necessary to sacrifice -all other considerations to the safety of his own life. He opposed his -shield, therefore, to the thundering blows of his adversary; and -raising his heavy double-edged sword high above the count's naked -head, in another moment would have terminated his sorrows for ever, -when the blow was suspended by a circumstance which shall be related -hereafter.</p> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<h3>CHAPTER V.</h3> -<br> - -<p class="continue">In the great hall of the ducal palace at Rouen, sat John, King of -England, now the undisputed possessor of the British throne; and, -though the blood of his nephew was scarce washed from his hands, and -the record of his crime scarce dry in the annals of the world, he bore -upon his lip that same idle smile, whose hideous lightness was the -more dreadful when contrasted with the profound depravity of his -heart. He was seated in an ivory chair, beneath a crimson dais, -gorgeously arrayed after the fashion of the day, and surrounded with -all the pomp of royalty. On his right hand stood the Earl of Pembroke, -with bitter grief and indignation written in his curled lip and -contracted brow, which found an answering expression in the -countenance of Lord Bagot, the Earl of Essex, and almost every English -peer in the presence.</p> - -<p class="normal">John saw their stern and discontented looks, and understood their -import well; but, strange to say, the chief cause of his fear being -removed by the death of Arthur, he felt a degree of triumphant joy in -the angry sorrow of his barons; and calculated upon easily calming -their irritation, before any new danger should arise to menace him. -Indeed, with his usual false calculation, he already planned a new act -of baseness, which, by punishing one who had contributed to the death -of Arthur, by betraying him at Mirebeau, he hoped might, in some -degree, satisfy those whom that death had rendered discontented; -forgetting, in his utter ignorance of such a thing as virtue, that, in -the eyes of the honest, one base act can never repair another.</p> - -<p class="normal">Close before the king, on the tapestry, which spread over the steps on -which his throne was raised, and extended some way into the hall, -stood no less a person than the Brabançois, Jodelle, now dressed in a -fine tunic of purple cloth, with a baldric of cloth of gold supporting -by his side a cross-hilted sword.</p> - -<p class="normal">His air was the invariable air of a <i>parvenu</i>, in which flippant, yet -infirm self-conceit, struggles to supply the place of habitual -self-possession, and in its eagerness defeats its object. Consummate -vanity, when joined with grace, will sometimes supply the place of -high breeding; but a man that doubts in the least is lost. Thus stood -Jodelle, smiling in the plenitude, as he thought, of royal favour; -yet, with irritable knowledge of his want of right to appear in such a -presence, glancing his eye from time to time round the proud barons of -England, who, occupied with thoughts of more dignified anger, scarcely -condescended to despise him.</p> - -<p class="normal">In the meanwhile, King John, as we have said, with a light and -sneering smile upon his lips, amused himself with the conceited -affectation of the Brabançois, who, enriched with the spoils of -Mirebeau and several other towns in Poitou, now presented himself to -claim the higher rewards that had been promised to his treachery. The -king smiled; yet, in the dark recesses of his cruel heart, he at the -very moment destined the man to death, with whom he jested as a -favoured follower.</p> - -<p class="normal">The simile of a cat and a mouse is almost as musty as the Prince of -Denmark's proverb; and yet perhaps there is no other that would so -aptly figure the manner in which John of England played with the -traitor, of whose services he had availed himself to take his nephew -prisoner.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Well, beau Sire Jodelle," said he, after the Brabançois had made his -obeisance, "doubtless you have exercised the royal permission we gave -you, to plunder our loving subjects of Poitou to some purpose. Nay, -your gay plumage speaks it. You were not feathered so, Sir Jodelle, -when last we saw you. But our homely proverb has it, 'Fine feathers -make fine birds.' Is it not so, Lord Pembroke?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"Not always, sir," answered the earl boldly. "I have known a vulture -plumed like an eagle, yet not deceive a daw!"</p> - -<p class="normal">John's brow darkened for an instant, but the next it was all clear -again, and he replied, "Your lordship follows a metaphor as closely as -a buzzard does a field mouse. Think you not, Sire Jodelle, that our -English lords have fine wits? Marry, if you had possessed as fine, you -would have kept at a goodly distance from us all; for there are -amongst us men that love you not, and you might chance to get one of -those sympathetic knots tied round your neck that draw themselves the -tighter the more you tug at them."</p> - -<p class="normal">"I fear not, sire," replied Jodelle, though there was a sneering touch -of earnest in the king's jests that made his cheek turn somewhat -pale,--"I fear not; trusting that you will grant me your royal -protection."</p> - -<p class="normal">"That I will, man!--that I will!" replied the monarch, "and elevate -you;" and he glanced his eyes round his court, to see if his jest was -understood and appreciated. Some of the courtiers smiled, but the -greater part still maintained their stern gravity; and John proceeded, -applying to the Coterel the terms of distinctions used towards -knights, not without an idea of mortifying those who heard, as well as -of mocking him to whom they were addressed. "Well, beau sire," he -said, "and what gives us the pleasure of your worshipful presence at -this time? Some business of rare import, doubtless, some noble or -knightly deed to be done."</p> - -<p class="normal">"I am ever ready to do you what poor service I may, sire," replied -Jodelle. "I come, therefore, to tell you that I have raised the band -of free-companions, for which you gave me your royal permission, and -to beg you to take order that they may have the pay<a name="div4Ref_25" href="#div4_25"><sup>[25]</sup></a> and -appointments which you promised."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Thy demand shall be satisfied on that head," replied John, in a -serious and condescending tone, calculated to allay all fears in the -mind of Jodelle, if he had begun to conceive any. "By my faith! we -shall need every man-at-arms we can get, whether vassal or Brabançois, -for Philip of France threatens loud.--Now, Sir Jodelle, what more?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"Simply this order on your royal treasury," replied Jodelle, quite -re-assured by the king's last words. "Your treasurer refuses to acquit -it, without another direct warrant from you."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Give it to me," said the king, holding out his hand, into which -Jodelle, somewhat unwilling, placed the order for ten thousand crowns, -which he had received as the reward of his treachery. "And now," -proceeded John, "we will at once arrange these affairs, without the -least delay, for diligence in rendering justice to all men is a kingly -virtue. In the first place, then, for the appointments of the -free-companions raised by this worthy captain. We command you, William -Humet,<a name="div4Ref_26" href="#div4_26"><sup>[26]</sup></a> to send them off straight to the bands of our dearly -beloved Mercader, there to be drafted in, man by man, so that, being -well used and entertained, they may serve us truly and faithfully."</p> - -<p class="normal">"But, sire!" exclaimed Jodelle, turning as pale as death.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Tut, man! tut!" cried the king, "we will find means to satisfy -every one. Hear us to an end. In regard to this order on our royal -treasury--stand forward, John of Wincaunton! You are deputy prévôt, -are you not?"</p> - -<p class="normal">A short, stout, bull-necked sort of person came forth from behind the -throne, and placing himself beside Jodelle, bowed in assent to the -king's question.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Well, then," proceeded John, "by my faith! you must serve me for -deputy treasurer also, for want of a better."</p> - -<p class="normal">John of Wincaunton, who had a keen apprehension of the king's jests in -this sort, bowed again, and making a sign, by holding up two of his -fingers, so as to be seen by a line of men-at-arms behind the circle -of nobles who occupied the front of the scene, he laid his other hand -upon Jodelle's arm, while two stout soldiers ran round and seized him -from behind. Such precautions, however, were utterly unnecessary, for -the first touch of the prévôt's hand upon his arm operated like -Prospero's wand. All power and strength seemed to go out of the -Brabançois' limbs; his arms hung useless by his side, his knees bent, -and his nether lip quivered with the very act of fear.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Take the caitiff," cried John, frowning on him bitterly,--"take him, -prévôt; carry him to the very bound of Normandy, and there see you -acquit me of all obligation towards him. Hang him up between Normandy -and France, that all men of both lands may see his reward; for, though -we may sometimes use such slaves for the deep causes of state -necessity, we would not encourage their growth. Away with him!"</p> - -<p class="normal">Jodelle struggled to speak, but his tongue seemed to cleave to the -roof of his mouth; and before he could force his throat to utterance, -a bustle at the other end of the long hall called the attention of -every one but himself.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Sir king! sir king! hear me, for mercy's sake!" cried the Brabançois, -as he was dragged away. But John heeded him not, fixing his eyes upon -the figure of the Earl of Salisbury, who, armed at all points except -the head, and covered with dust, pushed through the crowd of -attendants at the extremity of the apartment, followed by two or three -other persons, as dusty and travel-stained as himself. His cheek was -flushed, his brow was bent and frowning, and, without a show even of -reverence or ceremony, he strode up the centre of the hall, mounted -the steps of the throne, and standing beside the king's chair, bent -down his head, addressing John in a low and seemingly angry whisper.</p> - -<p class="normal">His coming, and the bold and irreverent manner in which he approached -the king, seemed to destroy at once the ceremony of the court. The -heart of almost every noble present was swelling with indignation at -the assassination of the unhappy Arthur, then already public, and by -most persons said to have been committed by the king's own hand; and -now, encouraged by the bold anger evident on the brow of John's -natural brother, they broke the circle they had formed, and, in a -close group, spoke together eagerly; while William Longsword continued -to pour upon the bloodthirsty tyrant on the throne a torrent of stern -reproaches, the more cutting and bitter from the under-tone in which -he was obliged to speak them.</p> - -<p class="normal">For the reproaches John little cared; but his eye glanced terrified to -the disturbed crowd of his nobles. He knew himself detested by every -one present: no one, but one or two of his servile sycophants, was -attached to him by any one tie on which he could depend. He knew what -sudden and powerful resolutions are often taken in such moments of -excitement; and, as he marked the quick and eager whisper, the -flashing eyes, and frowning brows of his angry barons, he felt the -crown tremble on his head. It was in the kindly feeling and generous -heart of his bastard brother alone that he had any confidence; and -grasping the earl's hand, without replying to his accusation, he -pointed to the group beside them, and cutting across the other's -whisper, said in a low voice, "See, see, they revolt! William, will -you too abandon me?"</p> - -<p class="normal">The earl glanced his eyes towards them, and instantly comprehended the -king's fears. "No," said he, in a louder voice than he had hitherto -spoke. "No! I will not abandon you, because you are my father's son, -and the last of his direct race; but you are a----." The earl bent his -lips to John's ear, and whispered the epithet in a tone that confined -it to him to whom it was addressed. That it was not a very gentle one -seemed plain from the manner in which it was given and which it was -received; but the earl then descended the steps of the throne, and -passing into the midst of the peers, grasped Lord Pembroke and several -others, one after the other, by the hand.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Pembroke!" said he, "Arundel! I pray you to be calm. 'Tis a bad -business this, and must be inquired into at another time, when our -minds are more cool, to take counsel upon it. But be calm now, I pray -you all, for my sake."</p> - -<p class="normal">"For your sake!" said the Earl of Pembroke, with a smile. "By Heavens! -Salisbury, we were just saying, that the best king that ever sat on -the English throne was a bastard; and we see not why another should -not sit there now. Why should not Rosamond of Woodstock produce as -good a son as the mother of William the Conqueror?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"Hush; hush!" cried Salisbury quickly, at the pointed allusion to -himself. "Not a word of that, my friends. I would not wrong my -father's son for all the crowns of Europe. Nor am I fit for a king; -but no more of that! Form round again, I pray you; for I have a duty -to perform as a knight, and would fain do it decently, though my blood -was up with what I heard on my arrival."</p> - -<p class="normal">The barons again, with lowering brows and eyes bent sternly on the -ground, as if scarce yet resolved in regard to their conduct, formed -somewhat of a regular sweep round the throne, while Lord Salisbury -advanced, and once more addressed the weak and cruel monarch, who sat -upon his throne, the most abject thing that earth can ever produce--a -despised and detested king.</p> - -<p class="normal">"My lord," said William Longsword, almost moved to pity by the sunk -and dejected air that now overclouded the changeable brow of the light -sovereign, "when we parted in Touraine, I yielded to your importunity -my noble prisoner, Sir Guy de Coucy, on the promise that you would -cherish and honour him, and on the pretence that you wished to win him -and attach him to your own person; reserving to myself, however, the -right of putting him at what ransom I pleased, and demanding his -liberty when that ransom should be paid. How much truth there was in -the pretence by which you won him from me, and how well you have kept -the promise you made, you yourself well know; but, on my honour, to do -away the stain that you have brought upon me, I would willingly free -the good knight without any ransom whatever, only that he himself -would consider such a proposal as an insult to a warrior of his high -fame and bearing. However that may be, I have fixed his ransom at -seven thousand crowns of gold; and here stands his page ready to pay -the same, the moment that his lord is free. I therefore claim him at -your hands; for, though I hear he is in that fatal tower, whose very -name shall live a reproach upon England's honour for ever, I do not -think that the man lives who would dare to practise against the life -of <i>my</i> prisoner."</p> - -<p class="normal">"My Lord of Salisbury," replied John, raising his head, and striving -to assume the air of dignity which he could sometimes command; but as -he did so, his eyes encountered the stern bold look of William -Longsword, and the fixed indignant glances of his dissatisfied nobles; -and he changed his purpose in the very midst, finding that -dissimulation, his usual resource, was now become a necessary one. "My -Lord of Salisbury," he repeated, softening his tone, "thou art our -brother, and should at least judge less harshly of us than those who -know us less. A villain, construing our commands by his own black -heart, has committed within the walls of this town a most foul and -sacrilegious deed, and many wilful and traitorous persons seek to -impute that deed to us. Now, though it becomes us not, as a king, to -notice the murmurs of every fool that speaks without judgment; to you, -fair brother, and to any of our well-beloved nobles of England, we -will condescend willingly to prove that our commands were the most -opposite. This we will fully show you, on a more private occasion."</p> - -<p class="normal">As John spoke, and found himself listened to, he became more bold, and -proceeded. "In regard to our own time, during that unhappy day which -deprived us of our dear nephew, we could, were we put to such unkingly -inquisition, account for every moment of our time. The greater -part--nay, I might almost say the whole--was spent in reading -despatches from Rome and Germany with my Lords of Arundel and Bagot."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Except two hours in the morning, my lord, and from six till nine at -night, when I returned and found you wonderous pale and agitated," -replied Lord Bagot with a meaning look.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Our excellent friend, and very good knight, William de la Roche -Guyon, was with us at both the times you speak of," said the king, -turning towards the young Provençal, who stood near him, with a -gracious and satisfied air. "Was it not so, fair sir?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"It was, my lord," faltered William de la Roche Guyon; "but--" All the -barons, at the sound of that but, fixed their eyes upon him, as if the -secret was about to transpire; but John took up the sentence as he -hesitated to conclude it.</p> - -<p class="normal">"But,--you would say," proceeded the king,--"you went with me to the -Tower, where the poor child was confined, in the morning. True you -did.--'Tis true, my lords. But did you not hear me severely reproach -the captain of the Tower for placing the Sire de Coucy and the Duke of -Brittany in one small apartment, to the injury of the health of -both?--and did I not dismiss him for not lodging them better? Then -again, after vespers, did you ever see me quit the palace? Speak, I -charge you!" and he fixed his eye sternly on the effeminate face of -the young knight.</p> - -<p class="normal">Guillaume de la Roche Guyon turned somewhat pale, but confirmed the -king's statement; and John went on, gathering confidence and daring as -he proceeded. "This is enough for the present moment," said he: "we -will more of it hereafter; but when our exculpation shall be complete, -woe to him who shall dare to whisper one traitorous word upon this -score! In regard to your prisoner, my Lord of Salisbury, before -putting him at liberty, we would fain----"</p> - -<p class="normal">"Nothing before putting him at liberty, my lord," said the earl, in a -stern voice, "The prisoner is mine; I have agreed upon his ransom. -Here stands his page ready to pay the sum, and, moreover, whatever -charges may be incurred in his imprisonment; and I demand that he be -delivered to me this instant."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Well, well, fair brother," answered John, "be it as thou wilt. I will -despatch the order after dinner."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Haw! haw!" cried somebody from the bottom of the hall. "Haw! haw! and -perhaps De Coucy may be dispatched before dinner."</p> - -<p class="normal">"By my knighthood, the fool says true," cried the blunt earl.--"My -lord, as we have too fatal a proof that mistakes in commands lead to -evil effects within the walls of a prison, by your leave, we will -liberate this good knight without farther delay. I will go myself and -see it done."</p> - -<p class="normal">"At least," said the king, "to keep up the seeming of a respect that -you appear little inclined to pay in reality. Earl of Salisbury, take -a royal order for his release.--Clerk, let one be drawn."</p> - -<p class="normal">The clerk drew the order, and John read it over with a degree of -wilful slowness that excited not a little Lord Salisbury's suspicions. -At length, however, the king concluded; and, having signed it, he gave -it to the earl, saying, "There, deliver him yourself if you will--and -God send he may have eaten his dinner!" muttered the king to himself, -as William Longsword took the paper, and turned with hasty steps to -give it effect. "William!--William of Salisbury!" cried John, before -the other had traversed half the hall. "Which is the page? Shall he -count out the ransom while you are gone?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"That is the page," said the earl, turning unwillingly, and pointing -to Ermold de Marcy, who, accompanied by a herald and Gallon the fool, -with two men-at-arms, bearing bags of money, stood at the farther end -of the hall, in which the strange and painful scene we have -endeavoured to describe had taken place. "That is the page. Let him -tell down the ransom if you will. I will be back directly; 'tis but -ten paces to the Tower.--That is the page," he repeated, as he saw -John about to add some new question.</p> - -<p class="normal">"And the gentleman with the nose?" demanded the light monarch, unable, -under any circumstances, to restrain his levity. "And the gentleman -with the nose--the snout!--the proboscis!--If you love me, tell me who -is he?"</p> - -<p class="normal">But Salisbury was gone; and Gallon, as usual, took upon him to answer -for himself.--"Bless your mightiness," cried he, "I am twin brother of -John, King of England. Nature cast our two heads out of the same batch -of clay; she made him more knave than fool, and me more fool than -knave; and verily, because she gave him a crown to his head, and me -none, she furnished me forthwith an ell of nose to make up for it."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Thou art a smart fool, whatever thou art," replied John, glad to fill -up the time, during which he was obliged to endure the presence of his -barons, and the uncertainty of what the order he had given for De -Coucy's liberation might produce. "Come hither, fool;--and you, sir -page, tell down the money, to the secretary. And now, fool, wilt thou -take service with me? Wouldst thou rather serve a king, or a simple -knight?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"Haw! haw!" shouted Gallon, reeling with laughter, as if there was -something perfectly ridiculous in the proposition.--"Haw! haw! haw! I -am fool enough, 'tis true! But I am not fool enough to serve a king."</p> - -<p class="normal">"And why not?"' demanded John. "Methinks there is no great folly in -that. Why not, fellow?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"Haw, haw!" cried Gallon again. "A king's smiles are too valuable for -me. That is the coin they pay in, where other men pay in gold. -Besides, since the time of Noe downwards, kings have always been -ungrateful to their best subjects."</p> - -<p class="normal">"How so?" asked the king. "In faith, I knew not that the patriarch had -ever such a beast as thee in the ark."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Was not the dove the first that he turned out?" demanded Gallon, with -a look of mock simplicity, that called a smile upon even the stern -faces of the English barons.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Ha!" said John. "Thinkest thou thyself a dove? Thou art like it in -the face, truly!"</p> - -<p class="normal">"Not less than thou art like a lion," answered Gallon boldly. "And yet -men say you had once such a relation.--Haw, haw! Haw, haw, haw!" and -he sprang back a step, as if he expected John to strike him.</p> - -<p class="normal">But for a moment, leaving the conversation, which John for many -reasons continued to carry on with the juggler, though his replies -were of a more stinging quality than the monarch greatly relished, we -must follow Lord Salisbury to the prison of De Coucy.</p> - -<p class="normal">It was a little past that early hour at which men dined in those days; -and when the earl entered the gloomy vault that contained the young -knight, he found him seated by a table groaning under a repast not -very usual on the boards of a prison.</p> - -<p class="normal">De Coucy, however, was not eating, nor had he eaten, "though the -viands before him might well have tempted lips which had tasted little -but bread and water for many months before.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Salisbury!" exclaimed the knight, as the earl strode into the -chamber, with haste in his aspect, and symptoms of long travel in -every part of his dress. "Salisbury! Have you come at length?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"Hush! hush! De Coucy!" cried the earl, grasping his hand, "Do not -condemn me, without having heard. John persuaded me that he wished to -win you to his cause; and promised most solemnly that he would not -only treat you as a friend, but as a favourite. I am not the only one -he has deceived. However, till a fortnight since, I thought he had -carried you to England, as he declared he would. Your page, with -wonderful perseverance, traced me out amidst all the troubles in -Touraine, and offered your instant ransom. I sent to England to find -you--my messenger returned with tidings that you were here; and, -doubting false play, I set off without delay to release you. At every -town of Normandy I heard worse and worse accounts of my bad brother's -conduct.--Thank God, I am a bastard!--and when I come here, I learn -that that luckless boy, Arthur, is gone, God knows where, or how!"</p> - -<p class="normal">"I will tell you where you may find him, Salisbury," said De Coucy, -grasping the earl's arm, and fixing his eyes steadily on his face: "at -the bottom of the Seine. Do you mark me? At the bottom of the Seine!"</p> - -<p class="normal">"I guessed it," replied the earl, shutting his teeth, and looking up -to heaven, as if for patience.--"I guessed it!--Know you who did -it:--they say you were confined together."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Do I know who did it?" exclaimed De Coucy: "John of Anjou! your -brother! his uncle!"</p> - -<p class="normal">"Not with his own hand surely!" exclaimed Salisbury, drawing back with -a movement of horror.</p> - -<p class="normal">"As I hope for salvation in the blessed cross!" replied De Coucy, "I -believe he did it with his own hand. At least, full certainly, 'twas -beneath his own eye;" and he proceeded to detail all that he had -heard. "Before that day," continued the knight, "I was fed on bread -and water, or what was little better. Since--you see how they treat -me;" and he pointed to the table. "I have contented myself each -morning with half of one of those white loaves," he added: "first, -because this is no place for hunger; and next, because I would rather -not die like a rat poisoned in a granary."</p> - -<p class="normal">The earl hung his head for a moment or two in silence; and then again, -grasping De Coucy's hand, he said, "Come, good knight, come! Deeds -done cannot be amended. They are tumbled, like old furniture, into the -great lumber-house of the past, to give place to newer things, some -better and some worse. You were a prisoner but now--You are now free; -and believe me, on my honour, I would rather have laid my sword-hand -upon a block, beneath an axeman's blow, than that my noble friend -should have undergone such usage:--but come, your ransom by this time -is told down, and your attendants wait you in the palace hall. First, -however, you shall go to my lodging in Rouen, and do on my best -haubert and arms. There are horses in my stables, which have stood -there unridden for months. Take your choice of them; and God speed -you! for, though it be no hospitable wish, I long to see your back -turned on Normandy."</p> - -<p class="normal">De Coucy willingly accepted the earl's courtesy, and followed down the -stairs of the prison into the open air. He trod with the proud step of -a freeman: the sight of living nature was delight; the fresh breath of -heaven a blessing indeed; and when he stood once more clothed in -shining arms, he felt as if the bold spirit of his youngest days had -come back with redoubled force.</p> - -<p class="normal">As they proceeded to traverse the space which separated the lodging of -the Earl of Salisbury from the ducal palace, William Longsword -proceeded to give De Coucy a short account of all the steps which his -page had taken to effect his liberation, and which, however brief, we -shall not repeat here; it being quite sufficient to the purposes of -this history, that the knight was liberated.</p> - -<p class="normal">Salisbury and De Coucy mounted the stairs of the palace with a rapid -pace: but, at the hall door, they paused for a single moment: -"Salisbury!" said De Coucy with a meaning tone, "I must do my duty as -a knight!"</p> - -<p class="normal">"Do it!" replied the earl with firm sadness, understanding at once the -young knight's meaning. "Do it, De Coucy--God forbid that I should -stay a true knight from doing his devoir!"</p> - -<p class="normal">So saying, he led the way into the hall.</p> - -<p class="normal">John was still jesting with Gallon the fool. The barons were standing -around, some silently listening to the colloquy of the king and the -juggler, some speaking together in a low voice. At a table, on one -side of the hall, where sat the secretary, appeared De Coucy's page, -Ermold de Marcy, with a herald; and on the board between him and the -clerk, lay a large pile of gold pieces, with the leathern bags which -had disgorged them, while one of the men behind held a similar pouch, -ready to dispose of its contents as need might be.</p> - -<p class="normal">De Coucy advanced to the table, and welcomed his page with an -approving smile, while the herald cried in a loud voice to call -attention: "Oyez, Oyez! Hear, hear!" and then tendering the ransom in -set form, demanded the liberation of Sir Guy de Coucy. The ransom was -accepted with the usual ceremonies, and a safe conduct granted to the -knight through the territories of the king of England; which being -done, De Coucy advanced from the table up the centre of the hall.</p> - -<p class="normal">What had before passed had taken place at such a distance from the -throne, that John found it no difficult matter to keep his eyes in -another direction, though he was now speaking with William de la Roche -Guyon, as Gallon the fool had left him on his lord's entrance, and was -standing by the table, his nose at the same time wriggling with most -portentous agitation, as he saw the gold delivered by the page, and -taken up by the secretary. The monarch had thus affected scarcely to -see the young knight; but now De Coucy advanced, with slow, marked -steps, directly towards him, accompanied pace by pace by the herald, -who, with that sort of instinctive knowledge of every chivalrous -feeling which the officers of arms in that day are said to have -possessed, made a quick movement forward as they neared the throne, -though without any command to that effect; and exclaimed in a loud -tone,--"Hear! John, king of England! Hear!"</p> - -<p class="normal">John looked up, and turned a frowning brow upon De Coucy. But the -knight was not to be daunted by fierce looks, even from a king; and he -proceeded boldly and in a slow distinct voice. "John of Anjou!" he -said, "false traitor, and assassin! I, Guy de Coucy, knight, do accuse -you here in your palace, and on your throne, of the murder of your -nephew, Arthur Plantagenet, rightful king of England; and to your -beard I call you mansworn, traitor, murderer, and felon--false knight, -discourteous gentleman, and treacherous king! Moreover, whoever does -deny the murder of which I here accuse you, I give him the lie, and -will prove it, my hand against his, according to the law of arms."</p> - -<p class="normal">There was an awful pause. "Have I so many barons and noble knights -around me," cried John at length, "and not one of them noble and brave -enough to repel the insults offered to their king, in their presence, -by this braggart Frenchman?"</p> - -<p class="normal">Several of the circle stepped forward, and De Coucy cast down his -glove, for him to take it that chose; but Lord Pembroke waved his -hand, exclaiming, "Hold, lords and knights! hold! We must not make -ourselves champions of a bad cause. Such is not the courage of true -knights. My lord the king! the nobles of England have ever been found -too willing to cast away their lives and fortunes in their monarch's -defence; and there is not one man in this presence that, give him a -good cause, and he would not meet in arms the best Frenchman that ever -was born. When, therefore, my lord, you shall satisfactorily have -proved that this charge against you is false, the swords of a thousand -British knights will start from their sheaths to avenge your quarrel; -and I, as your lord marshal, claim to be the first.</p> - -<p class="normal">"With all respect, my Lord de Coucy," he added, while John bit his lip -with bursting mortification, "I raise your glove, and pledge myself to -meet you in arms within three months, if I find cause to judge your -words bold and untrue. If not, I will either yield the gage to -whatever true knight can, on his conscience, meet you, or will render -it back unto you honourably, in default of such. I am right willing -ever to do battle with a brave man; but I could never fight, with the -ghost of Arthur Plantagenet crying that my cause was evil."</p> - -<p class="normal">So saying, he raised the glove, and De Coucy, darting a glance of -bitter scorn at John, bowed his head to Lord Pembroke, and proceeded -down the hall to the place where he had left William Longsword. The -earl, however, had not stayed to hear the accusation that he knew was -about to be launched at his brother, and which, as he could not -refute, he dared not resent.</p> - -<p class="normal">De Coucy found him on the steps of the palace, at the bottom of which -stood a fresh horse, prepared for himself, together with the beasts of -Ermold the page, the herald, Gallon the fool, and the two men-at-arms, -who had carried the money to pay the knight's ransom. To these were -added the escort of a body of horse archers, to guard the young knight -safe through the English territory. This, however, he declined; and, -grasping the hand of the Earl of Salisbury, between whose bosom and -his own existed that mutual esteem which all noble minds feel towards -each other, he sprang upon his horse, and galloped with all speed out -of Rouen.</p> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<h3>CHAPTER VI.</h3> -<br> - -<p class="continue">The road that De Coucy followed had been made, apparently, without the -least purpose of proceeding straight to Paris, though it ultimately -terminated there; but its object seemed more particularly to visit -every possible place on the way, without leaving the smallest village -within several miles of the direct line to complain of being -neglected. Thus, instead of cutting off angles, and such other -whimsical improvements of modern days, it proceeded along the banks of -the river, following, with a laudable pertinacity, all the turnings -and windings thereof. This sort of road, which uncommonly resembles -the way in which I have been obliged to relate this most meandering of -histories, is doubtless very agreeable when you have plenty of time to -stay and amuse yourself with the pleasures of this prospect or -that--to get off your horse to gather a flower upon the bank--to pause -under the shadow of a tree, and pant in concert with your beast in the -cool air; but when you are in a hurry, then is the time to bless -modern shorts cuts. Such must by my case; for, having a long way -before me, and a short space to do it in, I must abridge De Coucy's -journey as much as possible; and, only staying to relate two events -which occurred to him on the road, must hasten to bring him, together -with my other characters, to that one point to which all their -histories are tending.</p> - -<p class="normal">Passing over, then, the follies of Gallon the fool, who, -notwithstanding all his maniac malice, felt he knew not what of joy at -his lord's deliverance, and all the details given by Ermold de Marcy -concerning his various peregrinations and negotiations, together with -the young knight's joyful feelings on his liberation, and his -sorrowful ones at the accounts he heard of the unhappy Count -d'Auvergne, we will bring the whole party at once to that high hill -from which the lower road to Paris descends rapidly on the little, -dirty, old-fashioned town called the <i>Pont de l'Arche</i>.</p> - -<p class="normal">There being few things more uncertain in the world than the smiles of -beauty and the boundaries of kingdoms, the limits of France, which -have been here, and there, and every where, within the last few -centuries, were fixed, on the precise day I speak of, at the Pont de -l'Arche. That hill being then the extreme limit of King John's Norman -dominions, his deputy prévôt, John of Wincaunton, was, at the very -moment De Coucy and his followers arrived at the summit of the hill, -engaged in the very praiseworthy occupation of hanging the Brabançois, -Jodelle, to one of the highest elms in the land.</p> - -<p class="normal">It must not, however, be inferred that the hanging had actually -commenced; for though the prévôt, with a party of six or seven men, -very well calculated to hang their neighbours, stood round Jodelle -under the tree, while one of their companions fastened the end of a -thick noose tightly to one of the strongest branches, yet the -plunderer's neck was still free from that encumbrance so fatal to -persons of his profession.</p> - -<p class="normal">There are various sorts of bravery; and Jodelle was a brave man, of a -certain sort. He had never shown himself afraid of death; and yet, the -idea of hanging affected him with mortal fear--whether he fancied that -that peculiar position would be unpleasant to him or not, can hardly -be said; but certain it is, though he had never shrunk from death in -the battle-field, his face looked already that of a corpse; his limbs -shook, and his teeth chattered, at the sight of the awful preparations -that were carrying on around him.</p> - -<p class="normal">What is there to which hope will not attach itself? Even the sight of -De Coucy, whom he had sold to his enemies, awoke a dream of it in the -breast of the Brabançois, and with pitiful cries he adjured the knight -to save him from the hands of his executioners.</p> - -<p class="normal">The men of the prévôt stood to their arms; but the knight's reply soon -showed them they had no molestation to fear from him. "Villain," -answered he, "if I saved thee from their hands, it should be but to -impale thee alive! Every drop of Prince Arthur's blood cries vengeance -upon thee! and, by Heaven! I have a mind to stay and see thee hanged -myself!"</p> - -<p class="normal">"Haw, law!" cried Gallon the fool,--"Haw, haw! Beau sire Jodelle! It -strikes me, they are going to hang thee, beau sire! Undo the haussecol -of thy doublet, man. They are going to give thee one of tighter stuff. -Haw, haw, Sire Brabançois! Haw, haw! Why pray you not the Coucy again? -Perchance he may be moved. Or, rather, why pray you not me? I am the -only man in the troop that can aid thee--Haw, haw, haw! haw, haw! I -could save thee if I would!"</p> - -<p class="normal">"Thou wouldst not if thou couldst, fiend," replied Jodelle, glaring on -him with eyes in which wrath struggled with terror, for his -executioners were now actually adjusting the noose to his neck, and -his pinioned hands might be seen to quiver with the agonising -anticipation of destruction. "I do now believe thee a devil indeed, as -thou once toldest me, for none but the devil could mock me in such a -moment as this."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Haw, haw, haw! Haw, haw, haw!" roared Gallon, rolling on his horse -with laughter. "Dost thou believe? Well, then, for that I will save -thee;" and, riding up to the prévôt, the juggler thrust his snout into -that officer's ear, and whispered a few words, in regard to the truth -of which the other seemed at first doubtful. Gallon, however, -exclaimed, "'Tis true, thou infidel! 'tis true! I heard the order -given myself! Look ye there!--There comes the messenger down in the -valley--Haw, haw, haw! Ye fools! Thought you king John could spare so -useful a villain as that?"</p> - -<p class="normal">The prévôt gazed in the direction wherein the juggler pointed; and -then made a sign to his men to put a stop to the preparations, which -they were hurrying forward with most unseemly haste; while Gallon, -with a patronising sort of nod to Jodelle, and a loud laugh, rode on -after De Coucy, who had not waited to listen to the termination of the -eloquent conversation between the juggler and the coterel. At the -bottom of the hill, however, the young knight turned his head, never -doubting that he should behold the form of his late follower dangling -from the elm; but, to his surprise, he perceived two of the men -placing Jodelle on horseback, still apparently bound, and the rest -hastening to mount their own beasts, while a horseman was seen -conversing with the prévôt.</p> - -<p class="normal">"By St. Paul! if thou hast saved that fellow from the hands of the -hangman," cried De Coucy, "thou art a juggler indeed, and a -mischievous one to boot, friend Gallon!"</p> - -<p class="normal">"'Twas not I saved him, friend Coucy," replied Gallon, who was in -somewhat of a saner state of mind than usual. "'Twas our very good -friend and patron, John, King of England; and I'll tell thee what, -Coucy, if you ill-treat me, and thump me, as you used sometimes to do, -I'll e'en take service with him, John of Anjou, and leave you! Haw, -haw! What do you think of that? Or else I'll go and live with fair -William de la Roche Guyon," he added, in his rambling way. "He loves -me dearly, does William de la Roche Guyon. So I'll go and live with -him, when I want to better myself. Haw, haw! Then I shall always be -near the pretty Lady Isadore of the Mount, whom good King John of -England gave to fair Count William this morning, for standing by him -in his need, as he said. 'Twas all in a whisper; but I would have -heard it had it been twice a whisper; my ears are as fine as my nose. -Haw, haw!"</p> - -<p class="normal">De Coucy had drawn his rein at the first word of these very pleasing -tidings, which Gallon communicated with a broad lack-lustre stare, -from which he had banished every particle of speculation; so that, -whether it was true or false, a dreadful reality or an idiotic jest, -was in no degree to be gathered from his countenance.</p> - -<p class="normal">"What is that you say?" cried the knight. "Tell me, good Gallon, for -the love of Heaven, are you serious in your news?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"Good Gallon!--Haw! haw!" shouted the jongleur,--"Good Gallon! He'll -call me pretty Gallon next!--Haw, haw, haw!--Coucy, you are mad!"</p> - -<p class="normal">"For God's sake!" cried the knight earnestly, "do not drive me mad -really; but, for once, try to give me a connected answer. Say! What -was it you heard that traitorous king say to the beardless, womanly -coward, William de la Roche Guyon?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"Give you a connected answer!" replied Gallon, suddenly assuming an -unwonted gravity. "Why should you doubt my giving you one? I'm not -mad, Coucy! I'll tell you what the king said, as wisely as he that -spoke it. William de la Roche, whispered he, with the face of a cat -lapping a saucer full of cream--William de la Roche, you have stood by -me this day in my need, and I will not forget it."</p> - -<p class="normal">And Gallon, though with a countenance as unlike that of John of Anjou -as any human face could well be, contrived to imitate the king's look -and manner, so as to leave no earthly doubt, not only that he had said -what the fool attributed to him, but that he had also precisely said -it as was represented.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Well then," continued the jongleur, "the noble king bade him, fair -William de Roche as aforesaid, take the fair Lady Isadore from the -castle of Moulineaux, hard by Rouen, where her father, Count Julian -the Wise, had left her under the care of the Lady Plumdumpling, or -some such English name; and when he had got her, to carry her whither -he would, as quickly as possible. And the sweet potentate John, with -true kingly consideration for the happiness of his lieges, added this -sage counsel to the aforesaid William, namely, that if he liked, he -might marry the maid; but if he liked light love better than broad -lands, he might make his leman of her."</p> - -<p class="normal">"By the Lord, fool! if thou deceivest me, thou shall rue it!" cried De -Coucy. "I believe not thy tale! How came her father to trust her from -his sight?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"I fear me, my lord. Gallon is right," said Ermold de Marcy, who -various negotiations had somewhat rubbed off the rawness of his youth, -and given him confidence to address his master more boldly. "In my -wanderings about, striving to achieve your ransom, I have heard much -of Count Julian and his proceedings; and I thus learned, that not long -after your capture, he left the court of King John, to raise all his -vassals for the great alliance that, men say, is forming against King -Philip, leaving the Lady Isadore as a hostage for his faith, with the -Lady Plymlymman of Cornouaille, chatelaine of the castle of -Moulineaux. So that Gallon's tale is too likely to be true."</p> - -<p class="normal">While the page spoke, the juggler drew his two eyes together upon De -Coucy's countenance, watching, with a fiendish sort of pleasure, the -workings of all those powerful feelings that the news he had given had -cast into commotion. At length he burst into a loud laugh. "Haw, haw!" -cried he. "Haw, haw, haw! De Coucy's in a rage!--Now, Coucy, now, -think of the very best way of cleaving me down Guillaume de la Roche -from the crest to the saddle. Haw, haw, haw! Oh, rare! Crack his skull -like a walnut-shell, and leave him no more brains than a date-stone. -Haw, haw! haw, haw!"</p> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<h3>CHAPTER VII.</h3> -<br> - -<p class="continue">There was a party of travellers wound down through the beautiful -valleys, and over the rich hills that lie between Pacy and Rolleboise, -proceeding slowly and calmly, though with a certain degree of -circumspection, as if they were not at all without their share of the -apprehensions to which travellers of every kind were exposed in those -days, and yet were embarrassed by the presence of some one, whose sex -or age prevented them from proceeding more rapidly.</p> - -<p class="normal">At the head of the cavalcade were seen, agitated by the breeze, -various of those light habiliments which have been used in all ages to -give the female figure a degree of butterfly flutter, which seems to -court pursuit; and it appeared out of consideration for the frailer -limbs of the part of the troop thus clothed, that the iron-clad -warriors which formed the main body proceeded at so slow and easy a -pace.</p> - -<p class="normal">The whole party might consist of fifty persons, four or five of whom, -by their pennons and arms, were distinguished as knights; while the -rest showed but the sword and buckler of the squire, or the archer's -quiver, long bow, and round target. Except an <i>éclaireur</i> thrown out -before to mark the way, the female part of the troop took the lead; -and, as far as could be judged from appearance, the rest was but an -escort attending upon them.</p> - -<p class="normal">One of the knights, however, whose helmet nodded with plumes, and -whose arms were glittering with gold, ever and anon spurred forward, -and, with bending head and low musical voice, addressed a few words to -the fair girl who headed the troop, demanding now whether she was -fatigued, now whether she felt the cold, now promising speedy repose, -and now offering a few words of somewhat commonplace gallantry, -concerning bright eyes, rosy lips, and inspiring smiles.</p> - -<p class="normal">To his questions concerning her comfort, the lady replied briefly, and -as coldly as courtesy permitted; and to his gallant speeches, the -chilling unmoved glance of her large dark eye might have afforded -sufficient answer, had he been one easily rebuffed. The only -uncalled-for words which she addressed to him herself tended but to -ask where it was that her father had appointed to meet her; and on his -replying that a place called Drocourt had been named, some five -leagues farther, she relapsed into silence.</p> - -<p class="normal">The young knight, however, though on every check he received he sunk -back into himself with an air of deep despondency, still returned to -his point, holding perseverance to be the most serviceable quality in -the world in all dealings with the fair; and thus, from time to time, -he continued his assiduities, notwithstanding cold looks and scanty -answers; till at length the road, descending, began to wind along the -banks of the Seine.</p> - -<p class="normal">Here his attention became more entirely directed to precautions -against surprise; and the increased haste and circumspection which he -enjoined, seemed to imply that he found himself upon hostile and -dangerous ground.</p> - -<p class="normal">"See you no ferry boat," cried he, "along the river!--Look out, -Arnoul!--look out! We must get across as soon as may be."</p> - -<p class="normal">"The ferry lies beyond this woody tongue of land, my lord," replied -the man. "'Tis not half a mile hence, and there is no town between; so -we may pass easily;" and, spurring on, the party entered the pass, -between the wood which skirted down from the road to the river on the -one side, and the high chalky cliffs on the other.</p> - -<p class="normal">The knight in the gilded armour had received a fresh rebuff from the -lady whose favour he seemed so anxious to win; and, having retired to -his companions, who, as we have shown, were a few steps behind, was -conversing with them in an earnest but under-tone, when from an ambush -in the wood, which had escaped even the eyes of the advanced scout, -rushed forth a body of horsemen, with such rapid force as to separate -entirely the female part of the cavalcade from their escort.</p> - -<p class="normal">It was done in an instant; but, in truth, it needed such rapidity of -attack to render it, in itself, any thing short of madness; for, when -the escort recovered in a degree from their first astonishment, they -found that seven men formed the whole force that had thrown them into -such confusion. Before, however, this became apparent, the leader of -their adversaries shouting, "A Coucy! A Coucy!" spurred like lightning -upon the knight we have before mentioned, and at one blow of his -battle-axe dashed him under his horse's feet. A squire behind shared -the same fate; a man-at-arms followed; and each of De Coucy's -followers, fighting as if inspired by the same daring valour that -animated their lord, the escort were driven back along the road, -leaving four or five saddles vacant. Then, however, the tide of the -battle turned. The knights at the head of the escort saw the handful -of men to which they were opposed, and, ashamed of yielding a step to -so scanty a body, four of them united their efforts to attack De -Coucy, while another rallied their followers; and the young knight was -in turn driven back, now striking at one, now at another, now parrying -the blows that were aimed at himself, and now showering them thick -upon the head of the opponent that he had singled out for the moment.</p> - -<p class="normal">Separated from the escort which attended her, the lady we have -mentioned, with her women, had in the meanwhile endeavoured to escape -from the scene of strife which had so suddenly arisen, by hurrying on -upon the road; but the scout, who had turned at the first noise of the -affray, caught her bridle, and, notwithstanding her prayers and -entreaties, would not suffer her to proceed.</p> - -<p class="normal">The danger indeed to which she was exposed was not for the moment -great, as, by this time, the first impetuous attack of De Coucy and -his followers had driven the escort back beyond the turn of the wood; -and nothing could be gathered of the progress of the fight but from -the trampling of the horses heard sounding this way or that, and the -cries and shouts of the combatants approaching or receding as the -battle turned.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Lady Isadore! Lady Isadore!" cried a girl who followed her. "It is -the Sire de Coucy. Hear you not his battle-cry? and I am sure I saw -Ermold the page strike down an archer twice as big as himself. God -send them the victory!"</p> - -<p class="normal">"Hush! foolish girl! hush!" cried Isadore of the Mount, leaning her -head to listen more intently. "Hark, they are coming this way! Free my -bridle, soldier! Free my bridle, for the love of Heaven! How dare you, -serf, to hold me against my will? You will repent, whoever wins!"</p> - -<p class="normal">The soldier, however, heeded neither the lady's entreaties nor her -threats, though it so happened that it would have proved fortunate to -himself had he done so; for, in a moment after, De Coucy, driven back -by the superior force to which he was opposed, appeared at the turn of -the wood, striking a thundering blow on the crest of one of the -knights who pressed closely on him, while the three others spurred -after at about three horse-lengths' distance.</p> - -<p class="normal">No sooner had the blow descended, than the knight's quick glance fell -upon Isadore. "Fly, Isadore, fly!" cried he. "You have been deceived -into the power of traitors!--Fly! up the path to the right! To the -castle on the hill!" But, as he spoke, he suddenly perceived the -soldier holding her rein, and forcing her horse up a bank somewhat of -the current of the fight. Like lightning, De Coucy wheeled his -charger; and, disappointing, by the turn he took, a blow that one of -his adversaries was discharging at his head, he swung his battle-axe -round in the air, and hurled it with sure and unerring aim at the -unhappy scout. It needed a firm heart and well-practised hand to -dismiss such a fatal missile in a direction so near the person of one -deeply beloved. But De Coucy had both; and rushing within two feet of -Isadore of the Mount, the head of the ponderous axe struck the soldier -full on the neck and jawbone, and dashed him from his horse, a ghastly -and disfigured corpse.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Fly, Isadore! fly!" repeated De Coucy, at the same moment drawing his -sword, and spurring his charger furiously against the first of his -opponents. "Fly up to the right! The castle on the hill!--the castle -on the hill!"</p> - -<p class="normal">Isadore required no second injunction, but parted like an arrow from -the scene of the battle, while De Coucy made almost more than mortal -efforts to drive back the enemy.</p> - -<p class="normal">Though he thus gave her time to escape, his valour and skill were of -course in vain, opposed to numbers not inferior to himself in personal -courage, and clothed in arms equal to those by which he was defended. -All he could do was to give his scattered followers time again to -collect about him; and then, satisfied with having delivered Isadore, -to keep up a defensive fight along the road.</p> - -<p class="normal">Even this, however, was difficult to conduct successfully in the face -of a body of men so much superior to his own in numbers eager to -avenge themselves upon him, and hurried on by the knowledge, that, -being upon adverse ground, they must win their revenge quickly, or not -at all. The four knights pressed on him on all sides, striving to bear -him down to the earth; his armour was hacked and splintered in many -parts; his shield was nearly cleft in two with the blow of a -battle-axe; several of the bars of his visor were dashed to pieces, so -as to leave his face nearly uncovered; but still he retreated slowly, -with his face to his enemies, shouting from time to time his -battle-cry, to cheer the spirits of his men, and striking terrible -sweeping blows with his long sword, whenever his opponents made a -general rush upon him.</p> - -<p class="normal">One of these united attacks, however, had nearly proved fatal to the -gallant young knight; for, in suddenly backing his horse to avoid it, -the animal's feet struck against a felled tree, and he went down at -once upon his haunches. "A Coucy! a Coucy!" cried the knight, striving -to spur him up; but all four of his antagonists pressed upon him at -once, beating him down with repeated blows, when suddenly two new -combatants were added to the fight, Philip Augustus and the Count -d'Auvergne.</p> - -<p class="normal">Both, though we have seen them in a preceding chapter opposed hand to -hand, suddenly ceased their mutual conflict, and rushed forward to -strike upon the side of De Coucy. The Count d'Auvergne, warned by his -friend's well-known battle-cry, rushed, bare-headed as he was, into -the midst of the struggle, and, striking with all the energy of -insanity, dashed at once the foremost of the young knight's opponents -to the earth. The king, recognising instantly, by the Norman fashion -of their harness, the followers of his enemy King John, sprang on his -horse; and, with the same chivalrous spirit that induced him in former -days to attack King Richard's whole army near Courcelles with scarce -two hundred knights in his own train, he cast himself in the foremost -of the battle, and plied his weapon with a hand that seldom struck in -vain.</p> - -<p class="normal">The struggle, by its greater equality, now became more desperate; but -it was soon rendered no longer doubtful, by the sight of a body of -horse coming down at full speed on the road from the castle. The -Normans, who had followed Guillaume de la Roche Guyon, now hastened to -effect their retreat, well knowing that whatever fresh troops arrived -on the spot must necessarily swell the party of their adversaries. -They made an effort, however, in the first place, to deliver their -companion who had been struck down by the Count d'Auvergne; but -finding it impossible, they turned their horses, and retreated along -the line of road over which they had advanced, only pausing for an -instant at the spot where the contest had first begun to aid William -de la Roche himself, who had, as we have shown, been cast from his -horse by a blow of De Coucy's battle-axe; and now sat by the -road-side, somewhat stunned and dizzied by his fall, and completely -plundered of his fine armour.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Haw! haw!" shouted some one from the top of one of the leafless trees -hard by, as they remounted the discomfited cavalier. "Haw! haw! haw!" -and in a moment. Gallon the fool cast down one of the gay gauntlets on -the head of its former owner, laughing till the whole cliffs rang, to -see it strike him on the forehead, and deluge his fair effeminate face -with blood. The Normans had not time to seek vengeance; for De Coucy's -party, reinforced by the troop from the castle, hung upon their rear, -and gave them neither pause nor respite till the early night, -following a day in February, closed in upon the world; and, fatigued -with so long a strife, the pursuers drew the rein, and left them to -escape as they might.</p> - -<p class="normal">So fierce and eager had been the pursuit, that scarce a word had -passed between De Coucy's party and their new companions, till, by -common accord, they checked their horses' speed.</p> - -<p class="normal">It was then that the two brothers in arms turned towards each other, -each suddenly grasping his friend's hand with all the warmth of old -affection. "D'Auvergne!" cried De Coucy, gazing on his friend's face, -down which the blood was streaming from a wound in his temple, giving -to his worn and ashy countenance, in the twilight of the evening, an -appearance of scarcely human paleness.</p> - -<p class="normal">"De Coucy!" replied D'Auvergne, fixing his eyes on the broken bars of -the young knight's helmet. "De Coucy!" he repeated; and, turning away -his head with a look of painful consciousness, he carried his hand to -his brow, as if sensible of his infirmity, adding, "I have been ill, -my friend--the hot sun of the desert, and Agnes' cold words when I -delivered her father's message--a message I had sworn on my knighthood -to deliver----"</p> - -<p class="normal">"Ha! Then it was not"--cried Philip eagerly: "but let us return to -some place of repose!" added he, remembering his disguise, and cutting -across a topic which, besides being painful to himself, he loved not -to hear canvassed near the ears of strangers. "Let us return to some -place of repose. We have to thank you, sir knight," he added, turning -to the leader of the horsemen who had joined them from the castle--"we -have to thank you for your timely aid."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Not so, beau sire," replied the knight, bowing to his saddle-bow. "We -were warned of the strife by a lady, who claimed refuge in the castle; -and we instantly came down to strike for France."</p> - -<p class="normal">"You did well!" replied the king. "Hark, you, sir knight;" and -approaching his horse, he spoke for some moments to him in an -under-voice, to which the only reply was, "You shall be obeyed."</p> - -<p class="normal">In the mean while, the men-at-arms and the followers of De Coucy, who -had paused to breathe after the first heat of the affray, began to -mingle in conversation upon the events that had just taken place, and -the causes which had given rise to them; and very soon all the noise -and clamour of explanation, and wonderment, and questioning, and -boasting succeeded, which usually follows any very active struggle. In -the course of this hubbub, De Coucy's name, situation, quality, the -news he had heard concerning Guillaume de la Roche Guyon, and the -means he had taken to surprise him, and deliver the lady Isadore, were -explained to every body whom it might concern, with that almost -childish frankness and simplicity, which was one of the chief -characteristics of the age of chivalry.</p> - -<p class="normal">To this the king listened attentively; and then, turning to De Coucy, -he said, "Sir Guy de Coucy, this adventure which you have just -achieved is worthy of your other exploits! I will beg leave to ride -with your train to Paris, where doubtless you are going. This good -knight," he added, pointing to the leader of the troop from the -castle, "informs me, that the lady your good sword has delivered from -that traitor Guillaume de la Roche Guyon, is in safety with the fair -queen Agnes, and he adds, that it is the queen's will, that no man, -except the garrison of the castle, shall be admitted within the -walls."</p> - -<p class="normal">"If such be the case, I must submit of course," replied De Coucy; "and -yet I would fain speak but a few words to the lady Isadore, to inform -her why I attacked her escort; for, beyond all doubt, they lured her -away from the château of Moulineaux, upon some fine pretext."</p> - -<p class="normal">"I will take care that your conduct be rightly stated, beau sire," -replied the officer. "But as to your speaking with the lady, I fear it -cannot be; for the queen will doubtless hold her, both as a liege -vassal of the crown, and as hostage for her father's faith; and she -has vowed, that during her absence from our noble lord the king, no -man shall enter her gates, except such persons as the king himself has -placed about her. Be assured, however, sir knight, that the lady shall -receive all honourable treatment, and that your high deeds and noble -prowess shall be spoken of in becoming terms."</p> - -<p class="normal">De Coucy mused a moment. "Well," said he at length; "what must be, -must be! To Paris then! for I bear the king both sad and important -news."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Ha?" cried Philip; but then again remembering his disguise, he added, -"Are they such as a stranger may hear?</p> - -<p class="normal">"They are such, sir unknown knight," replied De Coucy, "as will be -soon heard of far and wide. But the king's ears must be the first to -hear my tale. D'Auvergne," he added, turning to the count. "I pray -you, let my page bind up that gash upon your temple. If I see rightly -by this pale light, the blood is streaming from it still. Let him -stanch it for thee, I pray!"</p> - -<p class="normal">"Not so, not so! good friend," replied, the count, who, while this -conversation had been passing amongst the rest, had been leaning -silently against an oak, with his eyes bent thoughtfully upon the -ground,--"Not so! It does me good. Methinks that every drop which -trickles down and drops on the dust at my feet, takes some of the fire -out of my brain. I have been mad, I fear me, De Coucy, I am not quite -right yet; but I know, I feel, that I have done this good knight some -wrong. Pardon me, sir knight," he added, advancing to the king, and -extending his hand, "pardon me, as you are a good knight and true."</p> - -<p class="normal">"I do, from my soul," replied the monarch, grasping the count's -offered hand, and casting from his heart at the same moment far -greater feelings of enmity than any one present knew but himself:--"I -do from my soul. But you stagger! you are faint! Bind up his wound, -some one! Stanch the blood; he has lost too much already!"</p> - -<p class="normal">The monarch spoke in a tone of command that soon called prompt -obedience. The Count d'Auvergne's wound was instantly bound up; but, -before the bleeding could be stopped, he fainted, and in that state -was borne to the cave from which he had first issued to attack the -king. Here he was laid on a bed of moss and straw, which seemed to -have formed his usual couch; and was after some difficulty recalled to -animation.</p> - -<p class="normal">De Coucy, having so far seen him restored to a state of safety, -burthened with the tidings of Arthur's murder, which he was eager to -announce as soon as possible to the sovereign and peers of France, -took leave of his unhappy friend; and leaving his page and one of his -men to guard and tend him, he set out with the king on the road to -Paris. Two prisoners who had been taken, as well as one of De Coucy's -followers severely wounded, were left in charge of the seneschal of -the castle, who also undertook to see the rights of sepulture bestowed -on one or two of the soldiers whose lives had been sacrificed in the -affray.</p> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<h3>CHAPTER VIII.</h3> -<br> - -<p class="continue">The particulars of De Coucy's journey to Paris are not worth -recording. He paused for two hours at a village near Meulan, with his -followers and his royal companion, for the purpose of resting their -weary horses; but neither of the knights took any repose themselves, -though the fatigues they had undergone might well have called for it.</p> - -<p class="normal">The conduct of De Coucy somewhat puzzled the king; for it evinced a -degree of calm respect towards him, which Philip judged the young -knight would hardly have shown had he not recognised him by some of -those signs, which, when seized on by a keen and observing eye, render -disguises almost always abortive.</p> - -<p class="normal">At the same time, neither by indiscreet word, or meaning glance, did -De Coucy betray that he had any absolute knowledge of the quality of -him whose limbs that plain armour covered. He spoke frankly and freely -on all subjects, started various topics of conversation himself, and -in short, took care to bound his respect to grave courtesy, without -any of that formal reverence which might have directed the attention -of others to what he had observed himself.</p> - -<p class="normal">There was one, however, in the train not quite so cautious.</p> - -<p class="normal">Gallon the fool--though we left him last at the top of one of the -highest oaks in the wood, whither he had carried, piece by piece, the -rich armour he had stripped from Guillaume de la Roche Guyon, together -with a well-lined pouch of chamois leather--had since taken care to -rejoin the victorious party, with all his acquirements nicely bundled -up on the crupper of his horse, forming a square not unlike the pack -with which wandering minstrels travelled in those days.</p> - -<p class="normal">On the road he was very still and thoughtful. Whether it was that he -was calculating in silence the value of his plunder, or that he was -sullen from fatigue, his companions could not well tell, but when the -party stopped, Gallon watched his opportunity, when De Coucy was -alone, gazing at the pale moon, and indulging in such dreams as -moonlight only yields. Stealing up to his lord, the juggler peered -cunningly in his face, saying in a low voice, "Oh, Coucy! Coucy! I -could show you such a trick for taming a lion;" and at the same time -he bent his thumb back over his shoulder, pointing to where the -monarch stood at a few yards' distance.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Silence, fool!" said the knight, in a deep stern voice, adding, a -moment afterwards, "What mean you, Gallon?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"Did you not hear him cry, 'Denis Mountjoy! Denis Mountjoy!' when he -joined the fight?" demanded Gallon.--"Coucy, Coucy! you might tame a -lion, an' you would!"</p> - -<p class="normal">De Coucy caught Gallon by the arm, and whispered in his ear a stern -menace if he kept not silence. After which he turned at once to the -king, saying aloud, "We had better to horse, fair sir, or it will be -late ere we reach the city."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Haw, haw!" shouted Gallon,--"Haw, haw!" and bounding away, he was the -first in the saddle.</p> - -<p class="normal">When they were within sight of Paris, the king thanked De Coucy for -the pleasure of his fair company; and, saying that they should -doubtless soon meet at the court, he took leave of the young knight, -as if his road lay in somewhat a different direction, and rode on, his -horse putting forth all his speed to reach the well-known stable. The -young knight followed more slowly; and, proceeding across the bridge, -directed his steps to the palace on the island.</p> - -<p class="normal">In the court he found a crowd of inferior ecclesiastics, with robes, -and stoles, and crosses, and banners, and all the pompous display of -Romish magnificence, mingled with the king's serjeants-at-arms, and -many a long train of retainers belonging to several of the great -vassals of the crown, who seemed to be at that moment at the court. -The young knight dismounted in the midst of them, and sent in to crave -an audience of the king, giving his business, as it well deserved, the -character of important.</p> - -<p class="normal">A reply was soon returned, purporting that Sir Guy de Coucy was ever -welcome to the king of France, and the knight was instantly marshalled -to the presence-chamber.</p> - -<p class="normal">Philip stood at the further extremity of the magnificent Gothic hall, -a part of which still remains in the old palace of the kings of -France. He was habited in a wide tunic of rich purple silk, bound -round his waist by a belt of gold, from which hung his sword of state. -The neck and sleeves were tied with gold, and from his shoulders -descended a mantle of crimson sendal, lined throughout with ermines, -which fell in broad and glossy folds upon the floor. On his head he -wore a jewelled cap of crimson velvet, from under which the glossy -waves of his long fair hair fell down in some disarray upon his -shoulders. In any other man, the haste with which he had changed his -apparel would have appeared; but Philip, in person even, was formed to -be a king; and, in the easy grace of his figure, and the dignified -erectness of his carriage, hurry or negligence of dress was never -seen; or appeared but to display the innate majesty of his demeanour -to greater advantage.</p> - -<p class="normal">He stood with one foot rather advanced, and his chest and head thrown -back, while his eagle eye fixed with a keen and somewhat stern regard -upon a mitred prelate--the abbot of Three Fountains Abbey--who seemed -to have been speaking the moment before De Coucy entered, Guerin the -chancellor, still in the simple dress of the knights hospitallers, -stood beside the king; and around appeared a small but brilliant -circle of nobles, amongst whom were to be seen the dukes of Burgundy -and Champagne, the counts of Nevers and Dampierre; and the unhappy -count of Toulouse, afterwards sacrificed to the intolerant spirit of -the Roman Church.</p> - -<p class="normal">"How is this?" said Philip, just as the young knight passed into the -hall;--"Will Rome never be satisfied? Do concessions wrung from our -very heart's blood but stimulate new demands? What has Innocent the -Third to do with the wars of Philip of France against his traitorous -and rebellious vassal, John duke of Normandy? What pretext of clerical -authority and the church's rights has the pontiff now to show, why a -monarch should not in his own dominions compel his vassals to -obedience, and punish crime and baseness? By the holy rood! there must -be some new creed we have not heard of, to enjoin implicit obedience, -in all temporal as well as spiritual things, to our moderate, -temperate, holy father, Innocent the Third, and his successors for -ever! We pray thee, my lord abbot, to communicate to us all the tenets -of this blessed doctrine; and to tell us, whether it has been made -manifest by inspiration or revelation."</p> - -<p class="normal">"You speak scornfully, my son," said the abbot mildly, "ay, and -somewhat profanely; but you well know the causes that move our holy -father to interfere, when he sees two christened kings wasting their -blood, their treasure, and their time, in vain and impious wars -against each other, while the holy sepulchre is still the prey of -miscreants and infidels, and the land of our blessed Redeemer,--the -land in which so many saints have died, and for which so many heroes -have bled,--still lies bowed down to heathens and blasphemers,--you -well know the causes that move him to interfere, I say, and therefore -need ask no new motive for his christianlike and holy zeal."</p> - -<p class="normal">"His christianlike and holy zeal!!" exclaimed the king, holding up his -hands. "Ay, abbot," he continued, his lip curling with a bitter smile, -"I do know the causes, and Christendom shall find I estimate them -justly. For all answer, then, to the mild good father pope his -exhortation to peace, I reply that Philip is king of France; and that, -though I will, in all strictly ecclesiastical affairs, yield reverence -and due submission to the supreme pontiff; yet when he dares--ay, when -he dares, abbot--to use the word command to me, in my just wars, or in -the dispensation of justice unto my vassals, I shall scoff his idle -threats to scorn, and, by God's will, pursue my way, as if there were -neither priest nor prelate on the earth. Now, fair Sir Guy de Coucy! -most welcome to Philip of France!" he continued, abruptly turning away -from the abbot and addressing the young knight. "We were arming even -now to march to deliver you and our fair cousin Arthur Plantagenet. -What cheer do you bring us from him?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"I had hoped, my liege," replied De Coucy, with a pained and -melancholy air, "that fame, who speeds fast enough in general to bear -ill news, would have spared me the hard and bitter task of telling you -what I have to communicate. He for whom you inquire is no more! Basely -has he been murdered in the prisons of Rouen by his own uncle, John -king of England!"</p> - -<p class="normal">Philip's brow had been cloudy before; but as the young knight spoke, -fresh shadows came quickly over it, as we see storm after storm roll -up over a thundery sky. At the same time, each of the nobles of France -took an involuntary step forward, and with knitted brow, and eager, -horrified eyes, gazed upon De Coucy while he told his news.</p> - -<p class="normal">"God of heaven!" exclaimed the monarch rapidly. "What would you say? -Are you very sure, sir knight? Not with his own hand? His nephew too! -His own brother's child! As noble a boy as ever looked up in the face -of heaven! Speak, sir knight! Speak! What was the manner of his death! -Have you heard? But be careful that each word be founded on certain -knowledge, for on your lips hangs the fate of thousands!"</p> - -<p class="normal">De Coucy related clearly and distinctly all that had occurred on the -day of Arthur's murder--all that he had seen, all that he had heard; -but, with scrupulous care, he took heed that not one atom of surmise -should mingle with his discourse. He painted strongly, clearly, -minutely, every circumstance; but he left his auditors to draw their -own conclusions.</p> - -<p class="normal">The nobles of France looked silently in each other's faces, where each -read the same feelings of horror and indignation that swelled in his -own bosom. At the same time, the king glanced his keen eye round the -circle, with a momentary gaze of inquiry at the countenances of his -barons, as if he sought to gather whether the feelings of wrath and -hatred which the young knight's tale had stirred up in his heart were -common to all around.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Now, by the bones of the saints!" cried he, "we will this day--nay -this hour,--send a herald to defy that felon king, and dare him to the -field. Ho! serjeant-at-arms, bid Mountjoy hither!"</p> - -<p class="normal">"I have already, my lord," said De Coucy, "presumed, even before -bearing you this news, to defy king John before his court; and, -accusing him of this foul murder, to dare his barons--all, or any who -should deny the fact--to meet me in arms, upon the quarrel."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Ha!" cried Philip eagerly. "What said his nobles?--Did they believe -your charge? Did they take up your gage, sir knight?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"It seems, sire," replied De Coucy, "that the tidings of the prince's -murder were already common amongst the English barons; and, from what -I could gather, some of their body had already charged John of Anjou -with it before I came. As to my gauntlet, several of the knights -stepped forward to raise it--for, to do the lords of England justice, -they are never backward to draw the sword, right or wrong--but Lord -Pembroke interposed; and, taking up the gage, said that he would hold -it in all honour, till the king should have cleared himself, to their -satisfaction, of the accusation which I brought against him; hinting -some doubt, however, that he could do so. Nevertheless, he promised -either to meet me in arms in fair field of combat, or to return me my -gage, acknowledging the king's quarrel to be bad."</p> - -<p class="normal">"'Tis evident enough!" cried the king. "The barons of England--who are -ever willing to support their monarch in any just cause," he added, -with a peculiar emphasis, not exactly reproachful, but certainly -intended to convey to the ears on which it fell a warning of the -monarch's expectations,--"the barons of England are already aware of -this hateful deed, or not one of them would for a moment hesitate to -draw the sword in defence of his king. Poor Arthur!" he continued, -casting his eyes on the ground, and letting his mind wander over the -past,--"poor Arthur! thou wert as hopeful a youth as ever a mother was -blessed withal--as fair, as engaging a boy--and now thine unhappy -mother is sonless, as well widowed. I had hoped to have seated thee on -the throne of thine ancestors, and to have made thy mother's heart -glad in the sight of thy renewed prosperity. But thou art gone, poor -child! and left few so fair and noble behind. In faith, lords! I could -weep that boy's loss," continued the king, dashing a drop from his -proud eye. "His youth promised so splendidly, that his manhood must -have proved great.--Lord Abbot," he added gravely, turning to the -abbot of Three Fountains, "you have marked what has passed this -day--you have heard what I have heard,--and, if there needs any -farther answer to him that sent you to preach me from my purpose of -punishing a rebellious vassal, tell him that John of Anjou has added -murder to treachery; and that Philip of France will never sheathe the -sword till he has fully avenged the death of Arthur Plantagenet!"</p> - -<p class="normal">"I have indeed heard what has passed, sire, with horror and dismay," -replied the abbot; "but still, without at all seeking to impugn the -faith or truth of this good knight, whose deeds in defence of the holy -sepulchre have been heard of by all men, and warrant his Christian -truth--yet still he saw not the murder committed."</p> - -<p class="normal">Philip knit his brow and gnawed his lip impatiently, glancing his eye -round the circle with a scornful and meaning smile; and muttering to -himself, "Roman craft--Roman craft!"</p> - -<p class="normal">Whether the abbot heard it or not, he took instantly a higher tone. "I -irritate you, sir king!" said he, "by speaking truth; but still you -must thus far hear me. The pope--the holy head of the common Christian -church, finding himself called upon to exert all the powers entrusted -to him for the deliverance of the holy city of Jerusalem, has resolved -that he will compel all Christian kings to cease their private -quarrels, and lay by their vindictive animosities, till the great -object of giving deliverance to Christ's sepulchre be accomplished."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Compel!" cried Philip, the living lightning flashing from his eyes. -"By heaven! priest, the king he can compel to sheathe the sword of -righteous vengeance out against a murderer is formed of different -metal from Philip of France. So tell the pontiff! Let him cast again -the interdict upon the land if he will. The next time I pray him to -raise it, shall be at the gates of Rome with my lance in my hand, and -my shield upon my breast. My supplication shall be the voice of -trumpets, and my kneeling the trampling of my war-horse in the courts -of the capitol.--What say ye, barons! Have I spoken well?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"Well! Well! Well!" echoed the peers around, enraged beyond moderation -at the prelate's daring protection of a murderer; and at the same -moment the Duke of Burgundy laid the finger of his right hand upon the -pommel of his sword, with a meaning glance towards the king.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Ay, Burgundy, my noble friend! thou art right," said Philip; "with -our swords we will show our freedom.--Look not scared, sir abbot, but -know, that we are not such children as to be deceived with tales of -holy wars, when the question is, whether a murderer shall be punished. -Away with such pretences! This war against the assassin of my noble -boy, Arthur of Brittany, is <i>my</i> holy war, and never was one more just -and righteous.--Ha, Mountjoy!" he added, as the king of arms entered, -"we have a task for thee, fitted for so noble a knight and so learned -a herald. John of Anjou has murdered Arthur Plantagenet, his nephew, -in prison. Here stands in witness thereof. Sir Guy de Coucy--"</p> - -<p class="normal">"Good knight and noble! if ever one lived," said the herald, bowing -his head to De Coucy.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Go then to the false traitor John," continued the king, "defy him in -our name! tell him that we will have blood for blood; and that the -death of all the thousands which shall fall in his unrighteous quarrel -we cast upon his head. Tell him, that we will never sheathe the sword, -so long as he possesses one foot of ground in France; and that when we -have even driven him across his bulwark of the sea, we will overleap -that too, and the avenging blade shall plague him at his very -hearth.--Yet hold!" cried Philip, pausing in the midst of the passion -into which he had worked himself, and reining in his wrath, to guide -it in the course of his greater purposes; as a skilful charioteer -bends the angry and impetuous fire of his horses, to whirl him on with -more energetic celerity to the goal within his view. "Yet -hold!--------" and Philip carried his hand to his brow, catching, as -by inspiration, the outline of that bright stroke of policy which, -more than any other act of his whole reign, secured to the monarchs of -France the absolute supremacy of their rule--the judgment of John of -Anjou, the greatest feudatory of the crown, by the united peers of -France.</p> - -<p class="normal">If he made the war against John a personal one between himself and the -king of England, he might be supported by his barons, and come off -victorious in the struggle, it was true; but if he summoned John, as -Duke of Normandy, to receive judgment from his sovereign court in a -case of felony, it established his jurisdiction over his higher -vassals, on a precedent such as none would ever dare in after years to -resist. It did more; for, if John were condemned by his peers, of -which Philip entertained not a moment's doubt, the barons of France -would be bound to support their own award; and the tie between them -and him would become, not the unstable one of voluntary service, -rendered and refused as caprice might dictate, but a strictly feudal -duty with which all would be interested to comply.</p> - -<p class="normal">Philip saw, at a glance, the immense increase of stability which he -might give to his power by this great exercise of his rights; and, -clear-sighted himself, he hardly doubted that his barons would see it -also, and perhaps oppose his will. Certain, however, that by the -feudal system his right to summon John, and judge him in his court, -was clear and undeniable, he resolved to carry it through, at all -events; but determined, first, to propose it to his nobles as a -concession that he himself made to their privileges.</p> - -<p class="normal">What is long and tedious, as the slow eye or slower pen travels over -the paper, is but the work of a moment to the mind; and Philip had, in -the pause of one brief instant, caught every consideration that -affected the idea before him, and determined upon his line of conduct.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Hold!" said he to the herald--"hold! My lords," he continued, turning -to the nobles, by whom he was surrounded, "in my first wrath against -this base murderer, I had forgot that, though I have the indisputable -right of warring upon him as a monarch, yet I cannot justly punish him -as a felon, strictly speaking, without your judgment previously -pronounced upon him. I would not willingly trespass upon the -privileges of any of my noble vassals; and therefore, lords--you Dukes -of Burgundy and Champagne, and whatever other peers of France are -present, I resign the judgment of this John of Anjou into your hands. -I will summon him to appear before my court of peers, at the end of -twenty days, to answer the charges brought against him. The peers of -France shall judge him according to their honour and his demerits; and -I will stand by in arms, to see that judgment executed." The peers of -France could hardly have refused to assist at the trial to which -Philip called them, even had they been so willed; but, far behind the -monarch in intellect, and indignant at the baseness of John of Anjou, -they now eagerly expressed their approval of the king's determination; -and again plighted themselves to support him in his war against the -English sovereign, whether that war was maintained as a consequence of -the judgment they should give, or as a continuation of that which had -already commenced.</p> - -<p class="normal">The herald, then, was instantly despatched to Rouen, for the purpose -of displaying the articles of accusation against John at the court of -Normandy, and of summoning him to appear on the twentieth day at -Paris, to answer the charges to be there substantiated. At the same -time, the legate of the holy see, very well convinced that, in the -present case, the thunders of the church would fall harmless at the -feet of Philip, though launched with ever so angry a hand, took leave -of the monarch with a discontented air; and as he left the hall, the -monarch's lip curled, and his eye lightened, with a foretaste of that -triumph which he anticipated over the proud priest who had so darkly -troubled the current of his domestic happiness.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Beau Sire De Coucy," said the king, turning to the young knight with -a bland smile, as he recalled his thoughts from the contemplation of -the future, "notwithstanding the sad news you have brought us, you are -most welcome to the court of France. Nor will we fail to repay your -sufferings, as far as our poor means will go. In the mean while, we -beg of you to make our palace your home till such time as, with -sounding trumpets and lances in rest, we shall march to punish the -assassin of Arthur Plantagenet. Then shall you lead, to aid in the -revenge I know you thirst to take, all the fair host raised on the -lands of the Count de Tankerville, full a thousand archers and two -hundred knights. At supper, noble lords," continued the king, "I trust -that all here will grace my board with their presence. Ere then, I -have a bitter task to perform--to break to a fond mother the death of -her noble boy, and to soothe the sorrows of a helpless widow."</p> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<h3>CHAPTER IX.</h3> -<br> - -<p class="continue">One unchanging cloud of perpetual sorrow lowered over the days of the -unhappy Agnes de Meranie. The hope that the council which had been -called to decide upon the king's divorce might pronounce a judgment -favourable to her wishes, dwindled gradually away, till its -flickering, uncertain light was almost more painful than the darkness -of despair. The long delays of the church of Rome, the tedious -minutiae of all its ceremonious forms, the cavillings upon words, the -endless technicalities, however sweet and enduring was her -disposition, wore her mind and her frame, and she faded away like a -rose at the end of summer, dropping leaf by leaf towards decay.</p> - -<p class="normal">She delighted no longer in things wherein she had most joyed. The -opening flowers of the spring, the chanting of the wild melodious -birds, the reviving glow of all nature's face after the passing of the -long, chill winter, brought her no happiness. Her heart had lost its -young expansion. Her eye§ were covered with a dim, shadowy veil, that -gave its own dull, sombre hue to all that she beheld. Her ears were -closed against every sound that spoke of hope, or pleasure, or -enjoyment. Her life was one long, sad dream, overjoys passed away, and -happiness never to return.</p> - -<p class="normal">For many and many an hour, she would wander about through the woods; -but when she saw the young green leaves opening out from the careful -covering with which nature had defended their infancy, she would -recall the time when, with her beloved husband, she had watched the -sweet progress of the spring, and would weep to find him no longer by -her side, and to see in the long, cold future an unchanging prospect -of the same dull vacancy. Often, too, she would stray to the top of -one of the high hills near the castle, and, gazing over the -wide-extended view--the sea of woods waving their tender green heads -below her--the mingling hills, and valleys, and plains beyond--the -windings of the broad river, with the rich, rich vale through which it -flows--and the distant gleams of towers and spires scattered over the -fair face of the bright land of France, she would sigh as she looked -upon the proud kingdom of her Philip, and would quickly shrink back -from the wide extension of the scene to the small limit of her heart's -feelings and her individual regrets.</p> - -<p class="normal">She shrunk, too, from society. Her women followed, but followed at a -distance; for they saw that their presence importuned her; and it was -only when any message arrived from the king, or any news was brought -concerning the progress of his arms, that they broke in upon her -reveries. Then, indeed, Agnes listened as if her whole soul was in the -tale; and she made the narrators repeat over and over again every -small particular. She heard that one castle had fallen--that another -district had submitted--that this baron had come over to the crown of -France--or that city had laid its keys at the feet of Philip, dwelling -on each minute circumstance, both of warfare and of policy, with as -deep and curious an interest as if her life and hope had depended on -the issue of each particular movement.</p> - -<p class="normal">It was remarked, too, that the oftener the name of Philip was repeated -in the detail, the more interest she appeared to take therein, and the -more minute was her questioning; and if any eminent success had -attended his arms, it would communicate a gleam of gladness to her -eyes, that hardly left them during the whole day.</p> - -<p class="normal">At other times she spoke but little, for it seemed to fatigue her; -and, though from the blush of her cheek, which every evening seemed to -come back brighter and brighter, and from a degree of glistening -splendour in her eye, which grew more brilliant than it had ever been -even in her happier days, her women augured returning health, yet her -strength visibly failed; and that lovely hand, whose small but rounded -symmetry had been a theme for half the poets of France, grew pale and -thin, so that the one loved ring nearly dropped from the finger round -which it hung.</p> - -<p class="normal">It was not from a love of new things or new faces, for no one was more -constant in all her affections than Agnes de Meranie; but though she -avoided even the society of her own immediate followers, several of -whom had attended upon her in her own land, yet Isadore of the Mount, -from the time she had taken refuge in the castle where she was still -detained by royal order, was often welcomed by the queen with a smile -that the others could not win.</p> - -<p class="normal">Perhaps the secret was, that Isadore never tried to console her--that -she seemed to feel that the name of comfort under such circumstances -was but a mockery; and though she strove, gently and sweetly, to -divert the mind of the unhappy princess from the immediate subject of -her grief, she did it by soft degrees, and never sought for a gaiety -that she did not feel herself, and which she saw was sadly discordant -with all the feelings of the queen when affected by others in the hope -of pleasing her.</p> - -<p class="normal">One morning, towards the end of March, on entering the apartments of -the queen, Isadore found her with her head bent over her hand, and her -eyes fixed upon the small circle of gold that had bound her to Philip -Augustus, while drop after drop swelled through the long lashes of her -eyelids, and fell upon the ring itself. Seeing that she wept, Isadore -was about to retire; for there is a sacredness in grief such as hers, -that a feeling heart would never violate.</p> - -<p class="normal">The queen, however, beckoned her forward, and looking up, wiped the -tears away. "One must be at a sad pitch of fortune, Isadore," said -she, with a painful smile at her own melancholy conceit,--"one must be -at a sad pitch of fortune, when even inanimate things play the traitor -and leave us in our distress. This little magic symbol," she -continued, laying one finger of the other hand upon the ring,--"this -fairy token, that in general is destined to render two hearts happy or -miserable, according to the virtue of the giver and the receiver--it -has fallen from my finger this morning, though it has been my comfort -through many a sorrow. Is not that ominous, Isadore?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"Of nothing evil, I hope, lady," replied Isadore. "Trust me, 'tis but -to show that it will be put on again under happier auspices."</p> - -<p class="normal">"'Twill be in heaven, then," replied Agnes, fixing her eyes on the -thin fair hand which lay on the table before her. "'Twill be in -heaven, then! Do you too deceive yourself, lady?--Isadore, Isadore! -the canker-worm of grief has not only eaten the leaves of the blossom, -it has blasted it to the heart. I would not die if I could avoid my -fate, for it will give Philip pain; but for me, lady,--for me, the -grave is the only place of peace. Care must have made some progress -ere that ring, round which the flesh once rose up, as if to secure it -for ever as its own, would slip with its own weight to the ground."</p> - -<p class="normal">Isadore bent her head, and was silent; for she saw, that to speak of -hope at that moment would be worse than vain.</p> - -<p class="normal">"I had been trying," said the queen, clinging to the subject with a -sort of painful fondness,--"I had been trying to write something to -Constance of Brittany, that might console her for the loss of her poor -boy Arthur. But I blotted many a page in vain, and found how hard it -is to speak one word of comfort to real grief. I know not whether it -was that my mind still selfishly turned to my own sorrows, and took -from me the power of consoling those of others, or whether there is -really no such thing as consolation upon earth; but, still as I wrote, -I found each line more calculated to sadden than to cheer. At last I -abandoned the task, and letting my hand which had held the paper drop -beside me, this faithless pledge of as true a love as ever bound two -hearts, dropped from my finger and rolled away from me. Oh! Isadore, -'twas surely an evil omen! But it was not that which made me weep. As -I put it on again, I thought of the day that it had first shone upon -my hand, and all the images of lost happiness rose up around me like -the spectres of dead friends, calling me too to join the past; and oh! -how the bright and golden forms of those sunny days contrasted with -the cold, hard sorrow of each hour at present. Oh! Isadore, 'tis not -the present, I believe, that ever makes our misery; 'tis its contrast -with the past--'tis the loss of some hope, or the crushing of some -joy--the disappointment of expectation, or the regrets of memory. The -present is nothing--nothing--nothing, but in its relation to the -future or the past."</p> - -<p class="normal">"How painful, then, must be that contrast to the poor duchess of -Brittany," said Isadore in reply, taking advantage of the mention that -the queen had made of Constance, to lead her mind away from the -contemplation of her own griefs. "How bitter must be her tears for -that gallant young Prince Arthur, when all France is weeping for him! -Not a castle throughout the land but rings, they say, with the tale of -his murder. Not a bosom but beats with indignation against his -assassin. I have just heard, that Sir Guy de Coucy, who was his -fellow-prisoner, defied John Lackland in the midst of his barons, and -cast down his gauntlet at the foot of the very throne. The messenger," -she added, casting down her eyes as the queen raised hers, for there -came a certain tell-tale glow into her cheek as she spoke of De Coucy, -that she did not care to be remarked,--"the messenger you sent to the -canon of St. Berthe's has but now returned, bringing news from Paris -concerning the court of peers held upon the murderer, and affirming -that he has refused to appear before the barons of France--at least, -so says my girl Eleanor."</p> - -<p class="normal">The news of Arthur's death, and various particulars concerning it, had -spread in vague rumours to every castle in France. Many and various -were the shapes which the tale had assumed, but of course it had -reached Agnes de Meranie and her suite in somewhat of a more authentic -form. All that concerned Philip in any way was of course a matter of -deep interest to her, Isadore's plan for withdrawing her mind for the -moment from herself had therefore its full effect, and she instantly -directed the messenger to be brought to her, for the purpose of -learning from him all that had occurred at the court of peers, to -which assembly, however, we shall conduct our reader in his own -person.</p> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<h3>CHAPTER X.</h3> -<br> - -<p class="continue">To those who have not studied the spirit of the feudal system, it -would seem an extraordinary and almost inconceivable anomaly, that one -sovereign prince should have the power of summoning to his court, and -trying as a felon, another, of dominions scarcely less extensive than -his own. But the positions of vassal and lord were not so incoherent -or ill-defined as may be imagined. Each possessor of a feof, at the -period of his investiture, took upon himself certain obligations -towards the sovereign under whom he held, from which nothing could -enfranchise him, as far as that feof was concerned; and upon his -refusing, or neglecting to comply with those obligations, the -territory enfeofed or granted returned in right to what was called the -capital lord, or him, in short, who granted it.</p> - -<p class="normal">To secure, however, that even justice should be done between the -vassal and the lord--each equally an interested party--it became -necessary that some third person, or body of persons, should possess -the power of deciding on all questions between the other two. Thus it -became a fundamental principle of the feudal system, that no vassal -could be judged but by his peers,--that is to say, by persons holding -in the same relative position as himself, from the same superior. For -the purpose of rendering these judgments, each great baron held, from -time to time, his court, composed of vassals holding directly from -himself; and, in like manner, the king's court of peers was competent -to try all causes affecting the feudatories who held immediately from -the crown.</p> - -<p class="normal">John therefore was summoned to appear before the court of Philip -Augustus, not as King of England, which was an independent -sovereignty, but as Duke of Normandy, and Lord of Anjou, Poitou, and -Guyenne, all feofs of the crown of France. No one, therefore, doubted -the competence of the court, and John himself dared not deny its -authority.</p> - -<p class="normal">It was a splendid sight, the palace of the Louvre on the morning -appointed for the trial. Each of the great barons of France, anxious -that none of his peers should outvie him in the splendour of his -train, had called together all his most wealthy retainers, and -presented himself at the court of the king, followed by a host of -knights and nobles, clothed in the graceful flowing robes worn in that -day, shining with gold and jewels, and flaunting with all the gay -colours that the art of dyeing could then produce. Silks and velvets, -and cloths of gold and silver, contended in gorgeous rivalry, in the -courts and antechambers of the palace. Flags and pennons, banners and -banderols, fluttered on the breeze; while all the most beautiful -horses that could be procured, were led in the various trains, by the -pages and squire, unmounted; as if their graceful forms were too noble -to bear even the burden of a prince.</p> - -<p class="normal">In the great hall itself the scene was more solemn, but scarcely less -magnificent. Around, in the midst of all the gorgeous decorations of a -royal court on its day of solemn ceremony, sat all the highest and -noblest of France, clothed in those splendid robes of ermine, which, -independent of any associations of their value, from the very snowy -whiteness, and the massy folds into which that peculiar fur falls, -gives an idea of majesty and grandeur that no other dress can convey. -Each bore upon his coroneted<a name="div4Ref_27" href="#div4_27"><sup>[27]</sup></a> brow the lines of stern and -impressive gravity; for all deeply felt how solemn was the occasion on -which they had met, how terrible was the cause of their assembly, and -how mighty would be the consequences of their decision. The feeling -was near akin to awe; and many of the younger peers scarcely seemed to -breathe, lest they should disturb the silence.</p> - -<p class="normal">In the centre, surrounded by all the insignia of royalty, upon a -throne raised several steps above the hall, and covered by a dais of -crimson and gold, sat Philip Augustus--a monarch indeed, in mind, in -person, and in look. There was a simple bandlet of gold around his -brows<a name="div4Ref_28" href="#div4_28"><sup>[28]</sup></a>, raised with <i>fleurs de lis</i>, and jewelled with fine uncut -stones; but the little distinction which existed between it and the -coronets of his peers would have hardly marked the sovereign. Though -personal appearance, however, is indeed no sign of dignity, either of -mind or station, yet Philip Augustus was not to be mistaken. There was -royalty in his eye and his carriage. The custom of command shone out -in every line; and though there were many noble and princely persons -present, there was none like him.</p> - -<p class="normal">On the king's left hand stood Mountjoy, king-at-arms, holding a -scroll, containing the appeal of Constance, Duchess of Brittany, to -the peers of France, for the punishment of John, called unjustly--it -went on to state--King of England, for the murder of Arthur -Plantagenet, his nephew and born sovereign, her son.</p> - -<p class="normal">On the right, stood De Coucy, neither armed nor clothed in his robes -as peer, though, however small his territories, their being free and -held under no one, gave him such a right; but being there as the chief -accuser of John, he sat not of course amongst those called to judge -him.</p> - -<p class="normal">Several of the peers' seats were vacant; and, before proceeding to the -immediate business on which the court had met, various messengers were -admitted, to offer the excuses of the several barons, who, either from -want of power or inclination, were not present in person. The apology -of most was received as sufficient; but, at the names of several, the -king's brow darkened, and he turned a meaning look to his chancellor, -Guerin, who stood at a little distance.</p> - -<p class="normal">When this part of the ceremony was concluded, Philip made a sign to -the king of arms, who, having waved his hand to still a slight murmur -that had been caused by the admission of the messengers, proceeded to -read the petition of Constance of Brittany; and then, followed by a -train of heralds and marshals, advanced to the great doors of the -hall, which were thrown open at his approach; and, in a loud voice, -summoned John, Duke of Normandy, to appear before the peers of France, -and answer to the charge of Constance Duchess of Brittany.</p> - -<p class="normal">Three times he repeated the call, as a matter of ceremony; and, -between each reiteration, the trumpets sounded, and then gave a pause -for reply.</p> - -<p class="normal">At length, after a brief conversation with some persons without, the -heralds returned, introducing two persons as deputies for John, who, -as every one there already knew, was not, and would not be present. -The one was a bishop, habited in his pontifical robes, and the other -the well-known Hubert de Burgh.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Sir deputies, you are welcome," said the king, as the two Normans -advanced to the end of the table in the centre of the hall. "Give us -the cause why John of Anjou does not present himself before his peers, -to answer the charges against him? Say, is he sick to the death? Or, -does he dare deny the competence of my court?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"He is neither sick, sire," replied the bishop, "nor does he, as Duke -of Normandy, at all impugn the authority of the peers of France to -judge upon all questions within the limits of this kingdom." Philip's -brow relaxed. "But," continued the bishop, "before trusting himself in -a city, and a land, where he has many and bitter enemies, he demands -that the King of France shall guarantee his safety."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Willingly," replied Philip; "let him come! I will warrant him from -harm or from injustice."</p> - -<p class="normal">"But will you equally stake your royal word," demanded the bishop, -fixing his eyes keenly on the king, as if he feared some deceit--"will -you stake your royal word that he shall return safely to his own -land?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"Safely shall he return," replied the king, with a clear, marked, and -distinct voice, "if the judgment of his peers permit him so to do."</p> - -<p class="normal">"But if the peers condemn him," asked the bishop, "will you give him a -safe conduct?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"No! by the Lord of heaven and earth!" thundered the king. "No! If his -peers condemn him, he shall suffer the punishment his peers award, -should they doom him to the block, the cord, or the wheel! Their -sentence shall be executed to the letter."</p> - -<p class="normal">"You well know then, sire king," replied the bishop calmly, "that -John, King of England, cannot submit himself to your court. The realm -of England cannot be put at the disposition of the barons of France, -by its king submitting to their judgment; neither would our English -barons suffer it."</p> - -<p class="normal">"What is that to me?" cried Philip. "Because my vassal, the Duke of -Normandy, increases his domains, do I, as his sovereign, lose my -rights? By heaven's host, no! Go, heralds, to the courts, and the -bridges, and the highways, and summon John of Anjou to present himself -before his peers! Sir bishop, you have done your embassy; and, if you -stay but half an hour, you shall hear the judgment of our court, on -the cause of which we have met to take cognizance."</p> - -<p class="normal">The bishop, however, and his companion, took their leave and departed; -the bishop bowing low, in reverence to the court; and the stout Hubert -de Burgh turning away after a calm careless glance round the peers of -France, as if he had just concluded a piece of needless ceremony, of -which he was heartily tired.</p> - -<p class="normal">For a moment or two after the deputies were gone, the barons continued -to converse together in a whisper, while Philip sat without speaking, -glancing his quick keen eye from one countenance to another, as if he -would gather beforehand the terms of the judgment they were afterwards -to pronounce. Gradually, complete silence began again to spread itself -over the court; one baron after another dropping the conversation that -he held with his neighbour, till all was still. There is always -something awful in very profound silence; but when the silence of -expectation on any great occasion has been prolonged for any extent of -time, it becomes a sort of painful charm, which requires no small -resolution to break.</p> - -<p class="normal">Thus the peers of France, when once the stillness had completely -established itself, sat without word or motion, waiting the return of -the heralds, awed by the very quiet; though many of the more timid and -undecided would fain have asked counsel of those next whom they sat, -had they dared to break the spell that seemed to hang over the -assembly.</p> - -<p class="normal">Many a vague doubt and many a fear attached itself to the duty they -were called upon to perform; for, even in that day, it was no small -responsibility to set a world in arms, and renew that deluge of -bloodshed that had so lately ceased. From time to time, under the -influence of these feelings, the several peers gazed in the -countenances of their fellows, to see if they were shaken by the same -hesitations as themselves. But it is ever the bold that lead; and here -and there, scattered through the assembly, might be seen a face that -turned to no one for advice or support; but, with the eyes fixed on -the ground, the brow bent, and the lips closed, seemed to offer a -picture of stern determined resolution. It was these men who decided -the deliberations of the day. For their opinions all waited, and all -voices followed their lead.</p> - -<p class="normal">At length the doors of the hall were again thrown open; and Mountjoy -king-at-arms, presented himself, informing the court that he had -summoned John of Anjou, Duke of Normandy, in the courts, on the -bridges, and the highways; and that he did not appear.</p> - -<p class="normal">There was now a deep pause, and Philip turned his eyes to the Duke of -Burgundy. He was a man of a dull, saturnine aspect, stout even to -corpulency, with shaggy eyebrows overhanging his dark eyes, but with a -high, finely formed nose, and small, well-shaped mouth, so that his -countenance was stern without being morose, and striking without being -handsome.</p> - -<p class="normal">The great baron rose from his seat, while there was a breathless -silence all around; and laying his hand upon his heart, he said in a -clear stern tone, "I pronounce John of Anjou guilty of murder and -disloyalty; I hold him a cruel and perverse traitor; and I declare -that for these crimes, his feofs of Normandy, Anjou, Poitou, Maine, -and Guyenne, are justly forfeited to his sovereign lord, and he -himself worthy of death, upon my honour!"</p> - -<p class="normal">A murmur of approbation succeeded, for a great proportion of the -barons had already determined upon a similar judgment; and those who -had remained undecided, were glad of some one with whose opinion to -establish their own. One after another now rose; and, notwithstanding -all the hesitation which many had felt the moment before, there was -not one dissenting voice from the condemnation pronounced by the Duke -of Burgundy. Had there been any strong mind to oppose, half the peers -would have followed him like a flock of sheep, but there was none; and -they now all eagerly, and almost turbulently, pronounced judgment -against John of Anjou, sentencing him unanimously to forfeiture of all -his feofs, and every pain inflicted on high felony.</p> - -<p class="normal">The silence was succeeded by a babble of tongues perfectly -extraordinary; but the moment after, the voice of the king was heard -above the rest, and all was again hushed.</p> - -<p class="normal">What would in the present day smack of stage effect, was in perfect -harmony with the manners, habits, and feelings of those times, when a -spirit unknown to us--a moving principle whose force is now exhausted, -or only felt even feebly in the breasts of a few--the spirit of -chivalry, impelled men to every thing that was singular and striking.</p> - -<p class="normal">Philip rose majestically from his throne, drew his sword from the -scabbard, and, advancing to the table, laid the weapon upon it naked. -Then, gazing round the peers, he exclaimed, "To arms! to arms! nobles -of France, your judgment is pronounced! 'tis time to enforce it with -the sword!--to arms! to arms I lose no moments in vain words. Call -together your vassals. Philip of France marches to execute your -sentence against John of Anjou; and he calls on his barons to support -their award! The day of meeting is the tenth from this, the place of -<i>monstre</i> beneath the walls of château Galliard! let cowards leave me, -and brave men follow me! and I will punish the traitor before a year -be out."</p> - -<p class="normal">So saying, he waved his hand to his peers; and, followed by the -heralds and men-at-arms, left the hall of assembly.</p> - -<p class="normal">The younger and less clear-sighted of the peers eagerly applauded -Philip's brief appeal! but there was, in fact, a tone of triumph in -it, which struck the more deep-thinking barons, and perhaps made them -fear that they had that day consecrated a power, which might sooner or -later be used against themselves. Doubt kept them silent, however; and -they separated at once, to prepare for the campaign before them.</p> - -<p class="normal">Philip Augustus lost no time. Scarcely had the herald carried to John -of England the news of his condemnation by the court of peers, than -every part of his dominions in France were invaded at once with an -overpowering force.</p> - -<p class="normal">Disgusted with his baseness, his treachery, and his levity, the barons -of England afforded him but little aid, and the nobles of his French -dominions, in most instances, yielded willingly to the king of France, -who offered them friendship and protection on which they could rely. -The greater towns, indeed, of Maine and Normandy still held for John, -and made some show of resistance: but what by superior force and skill -in war, and what by politic concessions, before two months were over -the major part had been led to submit to Philip.</p> - -<p class="normal">The war was of course begun, as was ever the case in those days, by -hordes of plunderers of every description, who, on the very first call -to arms, inundated Normandy, pillaging, ravaging, and destroying, -sparing neither sex nor age, and, by their excesses, driving the -people to submit willingly to the authority of the French monarch, who -alone could afford them any sufficient protection. To the towns, -Philip held out the promise of being rendered free communes under -royal charters; to the barons he offered security in all their rights -and privileges; and to the people, peace and safety. With these -offers, and the sight of their accomplishment wherever they were -accepted, on the one hand, and an immense and conquering army on the -other, it is not at all wonderful that triumph should follow every -where the royal standard of France.</p> - -<p class="normal">John fled timidly into Guyenne, while the Earl of Salisbury, with -small and inefficient forces, endeavoured in some degree to check the -progress of the French monarch. Battles there were none, for the -inequality of the two armies totally prevented William Longsword from -hazarding any thing like a general engagement; but sieges and -skirmishes succeeded each other rapidly; and De Coucy had now the -opportunity of drinking deep the cup of glory for which he had so long -thirsted.</p> - -<p class="normal">At the head of the retainers of the Count de Tankerville, which formed -as splendid a leading as any in the army, he could display those high -military talents, which had always hitherto been confined to a -narrower sphere. He did not neglect the occasion of doing so, and in -castle and in bower, throughout all the land of France, wherever great -deeds were spoken of, there was repeated the name of Sir Guy de Coucy.</p> - -<p class="normal">In the mean while, still confined to the castle of Rolleboise, Isadore -of the Mount heard, from day to day, of her lover's feats of arms; -and, though she often trembled for his safety, with those timid fears -from which a woman's heart, even in the days of chivalry, was never -wholly free; yet, knowing the impulse that carried him forward, and -proud of the affection that she had inspired and that she returned, -whenever the name of the young knight was mentioned, her eye sparkled -and her cheek glowed with love, and hope, and expectation.</p> - -<p class="normal">Her father, she thought, after the base attempt made to carry her off -by William de la Roche Guyon--of the particulars of which she was now -fully aware--would never press her to wed so base a traitor; and who -stood so fair to win the place that he had lost as Guy de Coucy? Thus -whispered hope. Fear, however, had another discourse; and perhaps she -listened as often to the tale of the one, as the other.</p> - -<p class="normal">During this time, the Count d'Auvergne had recovered from the wound he -had received; and, under the care of his own attendants, who, by the -clue afforded by De Coucy, had regained him, soon acquired new -strength--at least, of body. It was remarked, however, that, though -while suffering excessive exhaustion from loss of blood, his mind had -been far more clear and collected; yet, in proportion as he recovered -his corporeal vigour, his intellectual faculties again abandoned him. -His followers, who, notwithstanding the cold sternness of his manners, -loved him with true feudal attachment, kept a continual watch upon -him; but it was in vain they did so. With a degree of cunning, often -joined to insanity, he contrived to deceive all eyes; and once more -made his escape, leaving not a trace by which he could be followed.</p> - -<p class="normal">Such was the situation of all the personages concerned in this -history, towards the end of the month of June; when suddenly the Earl -of Salisbury, with the handful of men who had accompanied him, ceasing -to hover round the king's army, harassing it with continued -skirmishes, as had been his custom, disappeared entirely, leaving all -Normandy open and undefended, A thousand vague reports were instantly -circulated through the camp; but the only correct one was, that which -was brought to the king's tent, as he sat writing after the march of -the morning.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Well," cried Philip, as one of his most active scouts was ushered -into his presence, "what news of the Earl of Salisbury? No more <i>I -believes!</i> Give me some certainty."</p> - -<p class="normal">"My lord," replied the man, "I am now sure; for I saw the rear-guard -of his army in full march towards Boulogne. Mocking the jargon of the -Normans, I spoke with some of the men, when I found that the whole -host is boon for Flanders."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Ha! so soon!" cried the king. "I knew not that they were so far -prepared."</p> - -<p class="normal">But, to explain the king's words, we must turn to the events which had -been going on without the immediate limits of France, and which, while -he was striding from victory to victory within his own dominions, -threatened to overwhelm him by the combination of his external -enemies, with all his discontented vassals.</p> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<h3>CHAPTER XI.</h3> -<br> - -<p class="continue">During the wars in Normandy and Maine, John had been absent, but not -inactive; and, what by his single power he could not bring about, he -resolved to accomplish by coalition. Many causes of enmity towards -Philip Augustus existed amongst all the monarchs by whose territories -his kingdom was surrounded, and not less amongst his own immediate -vassals; and John at once saw, that his only hope of ever regaining -the feofs that Philip had wrested from him, was in joining his own -power with those of every enemy of the French monarch, and hurling -him, by their united efforts, from the throne.</p> - -<p class="normal">The English sovereign found no opposition to these schemes of policy. -Otho, emperor of Germany, had met in Philip an unceasing and -irreconcileable adversary. Philip it was who had principally opposed -his election; Philip it was who had raised candidate after candidate -against him. Philip it was who had taken advantage of his late -quarrels with the irritable pope; and had, even after his coronation, -thrown in a rival, and placed the greater part of Upper Germany in the -hands of Frederic of Sicily. Otho, therefore, thirsted for vengeance; -and the proposal of a general confederacy against the French monarch -but fulfilled his hopes and anticipated his efforts.</p> - -<p class="normal">Ferrand, count of Flanders, was not less easily won to join the -coalition. One of the greatest vassals of the crown of France, with -territories more extensive than the royal domain itself, he had ever -been jealous of Philip's increasing power, and had, by many a breach -of his feudal duties, endeavoured to loosen the tie that bound him to -his sovereign. By the example of John, however, he now began to see -that such breach of duty would not pass unpunished. Views of ambition, -too, joined themselves to hatred and fear. He saw prospects of -independence, of sovereignty, and immense territorial aggrandisement, -as the infallible consequence of Philip's overthrow; and he therefore -was one of the first to put his name to the confederation. So great an -alliance once established, thousands of minor princes joined -themselves to it, eager to share the spoil. The dukes of Brabant and -Lemburgh, the counts of Holland, Namur, and Boulogne, whether vassals -of the king of France or not, all found some motive to unite against -him, and some excuse to their own conscience, for throwing off the -homage they had vowed.</p> - -<p class="normal">In the mean time, the disaffection of Philip's vassals in the heart of -his kingdom was great and increasing. The immense strides which the -monarchical power had taken under his guidance; the very vast increase -of authority they had themselves cast into his hands by their judgment -against John: the extensive increase of absolute domain, which his -prompt and successful execution of that judgment had given him, made -each baron tremble for his own power; while, at the same time, -Philip's protection of the communes, his interference in matters of -justice and general right, and the appeal he granted in his court as -supreme lord against the decisions of his great vassals, made each -also tremble for the stability of the feudal system itself.</p> - -<p class="normal">John took care to encourage discontent and apprehension. A thousand -rumours were spread concerning Philip's views and intentions. Some -declared that his ambitious mind would never be at peace till he had -re-established the empire of Charlemagne--till he had broken the power -of the barons, and wrested from their hands the administration of -justice in their territories. Some said that his plans were already -formed for throwing down their strongholds, and possessing himself of -their lands; and there was not, in fact, a report, however -extravagant, that could irritate the fears and jealousies of the -nobles of France against their king, that was not cunningly devised, -and industriously circulated.</p> - -<p class="normal">Some believed, and some pretended to believe; and nothing was heard -of, from all parts of the kingdom, but preparations for revolt.</p> - -<p class="normal">In the mean while, Philip was, as we have already shown, steadily -pursuing his operations against John, the more anxious for success, -because he knew that one defeat would at once call the storm upon his -head. He suffered himself not to be turned from the business he had in -hand by threatenings of any kind, having secured what he considered -sufficient support amongst his barons to repel his external enemies -and punish internal rebellion. He saw too, with that keen sagacity -which was one of his peculiar qualities, that passions were beginning -to mingle themselves in the confederacy of his enemies, which would in -time weaken their efforts, if not disunite them entirely. These -passions were not those doubts and jealousies of each other, which so -often overthrow the noblest alliances; but rather that wild and eager -grasping after the vast and important changes which can only be -brought about by the operation of many slow and concentring causes.</p> - -<p class="normal">The designs of the confederates spread as they found their powers -increase. Their first object had been but to make war upon Philip -Augustus. Perhaps even the original proposal extended but to curb his -authority, and reduce him to the same position with his predecessors. -Gradually, however, they determined to cast him and his race from the -throne; and, calculating upon the certainty of success, they proceeded -by treaty to divide his dominions amongst them. Otho was assigned his -part, John his, and Ferrand of Flanders claimed Paris and all the -adjacent territory for himself. All laws and customs established by -Philip were to be done away, and the feudal system restored, as it had -been seen a century and a half before. Various other changes were -determined upon; but that which was principally calculated to destroy -their alliance, was the resolution to attack the power of the church, -and to divide its domains amongst the barons and the knights.</p> - -<p class="normal">John had felt the lash of a papal censure; and, though the -ecclesiastical authority had been exercised for the purpose of raising -Otho to the imperial throne, he also had since experienced the weight -of the church's domination, and had become inimical to the sway by -which he had been formerly supported. Nothing then was spoken of less -than reducing the power of Rome, and seizing on the luxurious wealth -of the clergy.</p> - -<p class="normal">Innocent the pope heard and trembled; and, though he the very first -had laid the basis of the confederacy against the French monarch, he -now saw consequences beyond it, that made him use every effort to stop -it in its career; but it was in vain. The hatreds he raised up against -Philip in his own dominions--the fears he had excited, and the -jealousies he had stimulated, were now producing their fruits; and a -bitter harvest they promised against himself. At the same time, as he -contemplated the approaching struggle, which was hurrying on with -inconceivable rapidity to its climax, he beheld nothing but danger -from whatever party might prove victorious. Over the King of France, -however, he fancied he had some check, so long as the question of his -divorce remained undecided, and consequently the usual doubts and -hesitations of the church of Rome were prolonged even beyond their -ordinary measure of delay.</p> - -<p class="normal">The confederation had not been so silent in its movements but that the -report thereof had reached the ears of Philip Augustus. Care had been -taken, however, that the immediate preparations should be made as -privately as possible, so that the first intimation that the troops of -the coalition were actually in the field against him, was given by the -movement of the Earl of Salisbury, upon Flanders.</p> - -<p class="normal">After that moment, however, "post after post came thick as hail," -announcing the various motions of the allies. A hundred and fifty -thousand men, of all nations and arms, were already assembled on the -banks of the Scheld. John of England was in arms in Poitou; and more -than twenty strong places had submitted to him without a stroke. -Otho's imperial banner was given to the wind; and fresh thousands were -flocking to it every hour, as if his very Gothic name had called -together the myriads of the North to a fresh invasion of the more -civilised world.</p> - -<p class="normal">At the same time, revolt and disaffection were manifest through every -district of Languedoc; and some of the nearest relations and oldest -friends of the French monarch swelled the ranks of his enemies. Such -were the tidings that every courier brought; and such were the forces -that threatened to overwhelm the kingdom of France and overthrow its -throne.</p> - -<p class="normal">It would be vain to say that Philip Augustus saw such a mighty -combination against him without alarm; but it was not the alarm of a -weak and feeble mind, which yields to difficulties, or shrinks from -danger. No sooner did he hear the extent to which his enemies' -preparations had been carried--an extent which he had not fully -anticipated--than he issued his charter, convoking the <i>ban</i> and -<i>arrière ban</i> of France to meet at Soissons, and calling to his aid -all good men and true throughout his dominions.</p> - -<p class="normal">Though far inferior in number to his enemies, the force he mustered -was any thing but insignificant. Then appeared the gratitude of the -communes towards the king who had enfrachised them. By their charters -they were bound to furnish a certain number of armed men in times of -need; but on this occasion there is every reason to believe that they -far exceeded their quota.</p> - -<p class="normal">Nor were the nobles and the knights a few who presented themselves at -the <i>monstre</i> at Soissons. Seldom had France shown so brilliant a -display of chivalry; and even their inferiority of number was more -than compensated by their zeal and their renown in arms.</p> - -<p class="normal">First passed before the monarch, as he sat on his battle-horse -surrounded by the troops of his own domains, his faithful vassal, -Eudes, Duke of Burgundy, followed by all his vassals, vavassours, and -knights, with a long train of many thousand archers and men-at-arms -from all the vast lands of his kingly dukedom.</p> - -<p class="normal">Next came Thibalt of Champagne, yet in his green youth, but -accompanied by his uncle Philip, and a contingent of knights and -soldiers that was an army in itself. Then succeeded the Counts of -Dreux, Auxerre, Ponthieu, and St. Paul, each with a long train of -men-at-arms. De Coucy leading the troops of Tankerville, the Lords of -Montmorency, of Malvoisin, St. Valary, Mareiul, and Roye, with the -Viscount of Melun, and the famous Guillaume des Barres, followed -after; while the troops willingly raised by the clergy, and the long -trains of archers and men-at-arms furnished by the free cities, -completed the line, and formed an army of more than eighty thousand -men, all bedecked with glittering banners and dancing plumes, which -gave the whole that air of splendour and pageant that excites -enthusiasm and stimulates hope.</p> - -<p class="normal">The king's eyes lightened with joy as he looked upon them; and -conscious of his own great powers of mind to lead to the best effect -the noble host before him, he no longer doubted of victory.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Now," said he in his own breast, as he thought of all that the last -few years had brought--the humiliation that the pope had inflicted on -him--the agony of his parting from Agnes--the vow that had been -extorted from him not to see her till the council had pronounced upon -his divorce, if its sentence should be given within six months--the -long delays of the church of Rome, which had now nearly protracted its -deliberations beyond that period--the treason which the proceedings of -Innocent had stirred up amongst his vassals, mingled with the memory -of torn affections and many bitter injuries--"now! it shall be my turn -to triumph, Agnes! I will soon be thine, or in the grave! and let me -see the man, prelate or prince, who, when I have once more clasped -thy hand in mine, shall dare to pluck it thence! Now, now!" he -murmured,--"now the turn is mine!"</p> - -<p class="normal">Detaching a part of his new-raised army to keep in check the forces of -King John in Poitou, Philip Augustus, without a moment's delay, -marched to meet the chief body of the confederates in Flanders.</p> - -<p class="normal">All the horrors of a great and bloody warfare soon followed the bodies -of plunderers and adventurers that went before the army, burning, -pillaging, and destroying every thing, as they advanced beyond the -immediate territories of the king. Nothing was beheld as the army -advanced, but smoking ruins, devastated fields, and the dead bodies of -women and children, mingled with the half-consumed carcasses of -cattle, and the broken implements of industry and domestic comfort. It -was a piteous and sad sight to see all the pleasant dwellings of a -land laid waste, the hopes of the year's labour all destroyed; and the -busy human emmets, that had there toiled and joyed, swept away as if -the wing of a pestilence had brushed the face of the earth, or lying -murdered on their desolate hearths.</p> - -<p class="normal">Philip Augustus, more refined than his age, strove to soften the -rigours of warfare by many a proclamation against all useless -violence; but in that day such proclamations were in vain; and the -very unsheathing of war's flaming sword scorched up the land before it -struck.</p> - -<p class="normal">In the mean while, the Imperial forces, now swelled to more than two -hundred thousand men, marched eagerly to meet the king, and about the -same time each army arrived within a few miles of Tournay.</p> - -<p class="normal">Both chieftains longed for a battle, yet the ardour of Philip's forces -was somewhat slackened since their departure from Soissons. Ferrand of -Flanders and his confederates had contrived, with infinite art, to -seduce some of the followers of the French monarch, and to spread -doubt and suspicion over many others; so that Philip's reliance was -shaken in his troops, and most of the leaders divided amongst -themselves.</p> - -<p class="normal">Such' continued the doubtful state of the royal army when Philip -arrived at Tournay, and heard that the emperor, with all his forces, -was encamped at the village of Mortain, within ten miles of the city; -but still the king resolved to stake all upon a battle; for, though -his troops were inferior, he felt that his own superior mind was a -host; and he saw that, if the disaffection which was reported really -existed amongst his barons, delay would but increase it in a tenfold -degree.</p> - -<p class="normal">The evening had come, all his preparations were over he had summoned -his barons to council in an hour; and, sitting in a large chamber of -the old castle of Tournay, Philip had given order that he should not -be disturbed.</p> - -<p class="normal">He felt, as it were, a thirst for calm and tranquil thought. The last -few months of his existence had been given up to all the energy of -action; his reflections had been nothing but eternal calculation--the -combination of his own movements--the anticipation of his enemy's-- -plans of battle and policy; and all the thousand momentary anxieties -that press upon the general of a large and ill-organised army. He had -thought deeply and continually, it is true; but he had not time for -thoughts of that grand and extensive nature that raise and dignify the -mind every time they are indulged. Though Agnes, too, was still the -secret object that gave life and movement to all his energies--though -he loved her still with that deep, powerful love that is seldom -permitted to share the heart with ambition--though she, in fact, was -his ambition's object, and though the battle to which he strode would, -if won, place in his hands such power, that none should dare to hold -her from him--yet he had scarcely hitherto had an instant to bestow on -those calmer, sweeter, gentler ideas, where feeling mingles with -reflection, and relieves the mind from petty calculation and workday -cares. There are surely two distinct parts linked together in the -human soul--feeling and thought:--the thought, that receives, that -separates, that investigates, that combines;--the feeling, that hopes, -that wishes, that enjoys, that creates.</p> - -<p class="normal">Philip Augustus, however, felt a thirst for that calm reflection, -wherein feeling has the greater shared and, covering his eyes with his -hands, he now abandoned himself to it altogether. The coming day was -to be a day of bloodshed and of strife,--a day that was to hurl him -from a throne, or to crown him with immortal renown,--to leave him a -corpse on the cold field of battle, or to increase his power and -glory, and restore him to Agnes. He thought of it long and deeply. He -thought of what would be Agnes' grief if she heard that her husband, -that her lover had fallen before his enemies; and he wrung his own -heart by picturing the agony of hers. Then again came brighter -visions. Hope rose up and grew into expectation; and he fancied what -would be her joy, when, crowned with the laurel of victory, and -scoffing to shame the impotent thunder of the Roman church, he should -clasp her once more in his arms, and bid her tread upon the necks of -her enemies. Ambition perhaps had its share in his breast, and his -thoughts might run on to conquest yet to come, and to mighty schemes -of polity and aggrandisement; but still Agnes had therein a share. In -the chariot of victory, or on the imperial throne, imagination always -placed her by his side.</p> - -<p class="normal">His dream was interrupted by a quick step, and the words, "My lord!" -and, uncovering his eyes, he beheld Guerin advancing from behind the -tapestry that fell over the door.</p> - -<p class="normal">"What now, Guerin?" cried the king somewhat impatiently. "What now?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"My lord," replied the minister, "I would not have intruded, but that -I have just seen a fellow, who brings tidings from the enemy's camp, -of such importance, I judged that you would willingly give ear to it -yourself."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Knowest thou the man?" demanded Philip: "I love not spies."</p> - -<p class="normal">"I cannot say with any certainty, that I have before seen him, sire," -replied Guerin, "though I have some remembrance of his face. He says, -however, that he was foot-servant to Prince Arthur, who hired him at -Tours; and he gives so clear an account of the taking of Mirebeau, and -the subsequent disasters, that there is little doubt of his tale. He -says moreover, that, being taken there with the rest, Lord Salisbury -has kept him with him since, to dress one of his horses; till, finding -himself so near the royal army, he made his escape like a true man."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Admit him," said the king: "his tale is a likely one."</p> - -<p class="normal">Guerin retired for a moment; and then returned, with a bony, powerful -man, whose short cut hair, long beard, and mustachoes, offered so -different an appearance to the face of anything like a Frenchman in -those days, that Philip gazed on him with some doubts.</p> - -<p class="normal">"How, fellow!" cried he; "thou art surely some Polack, no true -Frenchman, with thy beard like a hermit's, and thy hair like a -hedge-hog!"</p> - -<p class="normal">The man's tongue, however, at once showed that he claimed France for -his country justly; and his singular appearance he accounted for, by -saying it was a whim of the Earl of Salisbury.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Answer me then," said the king, looking upon him somewhat sternly. -"Where were your tents pitched in the enemy's camp?--You will find I -know their forces as well as you; and if you deceive me, you die."</p> - -<p class="normal">"The tents of the Earl of Salisbury are pitched between those of the -Count of Holland and the troops of the emperor, so please you, sire," -replied the man boldly. "I came to tell you the truth, not to deceive -you."</p> - -<p class="normal">"You have spoken truth in one thing, at least," replied the monarch. -"One more question," he continued, looking at some notes on the -table,--"one more question, and thou shalt tell thy tale thy own way. -What troops lie behind those of the Duke of Brabant, and what are -their number?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"The next tents to those of the Duke of Brabant," replied the man, -"are those of the Duke of Lorraine, amounting, they say in the camp, -to nine hundred knights and seven thousand men-at-arms."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Thou art right in the position, fellow, and nearly right in the -number," replied the king, "therefore will I believe thee. Now repeat -the news that you gave to that good knight."</p> - -<p class="normal">"May it please you, sire," replied the man, with a degree of boldness -that amounted almost to affectation, "late last night, a council was -held in the tent of the emperor; and the Earl of Salisbury chose me to -hold his horse near the entrance of the tent,--for he is as proud an -Englishman as ever buckled on spurs;--and, though all the other -princes contented themselves with leaving their horses on the outside -of the second guard, he must needs ride to the very door of the tent, -and have his horse held there till he came out."</p> - -<p class="normal">"By my faith! 'tis like their island pride!" said the king. "Each -Englishman fancies himself equal to a prince. But proceed with thy -tale, and be quick, for the hour of the council approaches."</p> - -<p class="normal">"My story is a very short one, sire," replied the man, "for it was but -little I heard. However, after they had spoken within the tent for -some time in a low voice, the emperor's tongue sounded very loud, as -if some one had opposed him; and I heard him say, 'He will march -against us, whatever be the peril--I know him well; and then, at the -narrow passage of Damarets we will cut them off to a man, for Sir Guy -de Coucy has promised to embarrass their rear with the men of -Tankerville;--and he will keep his word too!' cried the emperor -loudly, as if some one had seemed to doubt it, 'for we have promised -him the hand of his lady love, the daughter of Count Julian of the -Mount, if we win the victory.'</p> - -<p class="normal">"Ha!" cried the king, turning his eyes from the countenance of the -informer to that of Guerin,--"ha! this is treason, indeed! Said they -aught else, fellow, that you heard?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"They spoke of there being many traitors in your host, sire," replied -the man; "but they named none else but Sir Guy de Coucy; and just then -I heard the Earl of Salisbury speak as if he were walking to the mouth -of the tent. 'If Philip discovers his treason,' said he, 'he will cut -off his head, and then your plan is nought.' Just as he spoke, he came -out, and seeing me stand near the tent, he bade me angrily go farther -off, so that I heard no more."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Have Sir Guy de Coucy to prison!" said the king, turning to Guerin. -"By the holy rood! we will follow the good Earl of Salisbury's plan, -and have one traitor less in the camp!"</p> - -<p class="normal">As he heard these words, the eyes of the informer sparkled with a -degree of joy, that did not escape the keen observing glance of the -king; but, wishing to gain more certain knowledge, he thanked him with -condescending dignity for the news he had given, and told him to wait -amongst the serjeants of arms below, till the council should be over, -when the chancellor would give him a purse of gold, as a reward for -his services. The man with a low reverence retired. "Follow, Guerin," -cried Philip hastily. "Bid some of the serjeants look to him narrowly, -but let them treat him well. Lead him to babble, if it be possible. -However, on no account let him escape. Have this De Coucy to prison -too, though I doubt the tale."</p> - -<p class="normal">Guerin turned to obey; but, at that moment, the pages from without -opened the doors of the chamber, giving entrance to the barons who had -been called to the council.</p> - -<p class="normal">A moment of bustle succeeded; and by the time that Guerin could quit -the king, the man who had brought the information we have just heard -was gone, and nowhere to be found.</p> - -<p class="normal">So suspicious a circumstance induced Guerin to refrain from those -strong measures against De Coucy which the king had commanded, till he -had communicated with the monarch on the subject. He sent down, -however to the young knight's quarters, to require his presence at the -castle on business of import; when the answer returned by his squires -was, that De Coucy himself, his squire Hugo de Barre, who had by this -time been ransomed by his lord, his page, and a small party of lances, -had been absent ever since the encampment had been completed, and no -one knew whither they had gone.</p> - -<p class="normal">Guerin knit his brows; for he would have staked much upon De Coucy's -honour; but yet, his absence at so critical a moment was difficult to -be accounted for. He returned to Philip instantly, and found the -council still in deliberation; some of its members being of opinion -that it would be better to march directly forward upon Mortain and -attack the enemy without loss of time; and others, again strongly -counselling retreat upon Peronne.</p> - -<p class="normal">Many weighty arguments had been produced on both sides, and at the -moment Guerin entered, a degree of silence had taken place previous to -the king's pronouncing his final decision. Guerin, however, approached -the monarch, and bending beside him, informed him, in a low voice, of -what he had just heard.</p> - -<p class="normal">The king listened, knitting his brows and fixing his eyes upon the -table, till Guerin had concluded; then raising his head, and thinking -for a moment, without taking any immediate notice of what the minister -had said, he announced his decision on the point before the council.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Noble lords," said he, "we have heard and weighed your opinions upon -the conduct of the war; but various circumstances will induce us, in -some degree, to modify both, or, rather, to take a medium between -them. If we advance upon the enemy at Mortain, we expose ourself to -immense disadvantage in the narrow passage by Damarets. This -consideration opposes itself on the one hand; and on the other, it -must never be said that Philip of France fled before his enemies, when -supported by so many true and faithful peers as we see around us -here;" and the monarch glanced his eagle eye rapidly from face to -face, with a look which, without evincing doubt, gathered at once the -expression of each as he spoke. "Our determination therefore is, early -to-morrow morning to march, as if towards Lille; and the next day, -wheeling through the open plains of that country, to take the enemy on -their flank, before they are aware of our designs. By dawn, therefore, -I pray ye, noble peers, have your men all arrayed beneath your -banners, and we will march against our enemy; who, be assured, -whatever fair promises he holds out, is not alone the enemy of Philip, -but of every true Frenchman. You are fighting for your hearths and for -your homes; and where is the man, that will not strike boldly in such -a quarrel? For to-night, lords, adieu! To-morrow we will meet you with -the first ray of the sun."</p> - -<p class="normal">With these words the council broke up, and the barons took their leave -and withdrew; some well contented with the king's plan, some murmuring -that their opinion had not been conceded to, and some perhaps -disappointed with a scheme that threatened failure to the very -confederacy against which they appeared in arms.</p> - -<p class="normal">"'Tis strange, Guerin! 'tis strange!" cried the king, as soon as his -peers were gone, "We have traitors amongst us, I fear!--Yet I will not -believe that De Coucy is false. His absence is unaccountable; but, -depend on it, there is some good cause;--and yet, that groom's tale -against him! 'Tis strange! I doubt some of the faces, too, that I have -seen but now. But I will try them, Guerin--I will try them; and if -they be traitors, they shall damn themselves to hell!"</p> - -<p class="normal">As the king had commanded, with the first ray of the sun the host was -under arms; and stretching out in a long line under the walls of -Tournay, it offered a gay and splendid sight, with the horizontal -beams of the early morning shining bright on a thousand banners, and -flashing back from ten thousand lances.</p> - -<p class="normal">The marshals had scarcely arrayed it five minutes, when the king, -followed by his glittering train, issued forth from the castle, -mounted on a superb black charger, and armed cap-à-pié. He rode slowly -from one end of the line to the other, bowing his plumed helmet in -answer to the shouts and acclamations of the troops, and then returned -to the very centre of the host. Circling round the crest of his casque -were seen the golden fleurs de lis of the crown of France; and it was -remarked, that behind him two of his attendants carried an immense -golden wine-cup called a hanap, and a sharp naked sword.</p> - -<p class="normal">In the centre of the line the king paused, and raised the volant piece -of his helmet, when his face might be seen by every one, calm, proud, -and dignified. At a sign from the monarch, two priests approached, -carrying a large silver cruise and a small loaf of bread, which Philip -received from their hands; and, cutting the bread into pieces with the -edge of the sword carried by his attendant, he placed the pieces in -the chalice, and then poured it full of wine.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Barons of France!" cried he, in a loud voice, which made itself heard -to an immense distance,--"Barons of France! Some foul liar last night -sent me word, that there were traitors in my council and rebels in my -host. Here I stand before you all, bearing on my casque the crown of -France; and if amongst you there be one man that judges me unworthy to -wear that crown, instantly let him separate from my people and depart -to my enemies. He shall go free and unscathed, with his arms and -followers, on the honour of a king! But those noble barons who are -willing to fight and to die with their sovereign, in defence of their -wives, their children, their homes, and their country--let them come -forward; and in union with their king, eat this consecrated bread, and -taste this sacred wine; and cursed be he who shall hereafter forget -this sign of unity and fellowship!"</p> - -<p class="normal">A loud shout from the whole host was the first reply; and then each -baron, without an exception, hurried forward before the ranks, and -claimed to pledge himself as Philip had proposed.</p> - -<p class="normal">In the midst of the ceremony, however, a tall strong man in black -armour pushed his way through the rest, exclaiming--"Give me the cup! -give me the cup!"</p> - -<p class="normal">When it was placed in his hands, he raised it first to his head, -without lifting the visor of his helmet; but, finding his mistake, he -unclasped the volant hurriedly, and throwing it back, discovered the -wild countenance of Count Thibalt d'Auvergne. He then raised again the -cup, and with a quick, but not ungraceful movement, bowed low to -Philip, and drank some of the wine.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Philip, king of France, I am yours till death," he said, when he had -drunk; and after gazing for a few moments earnestly in the king's -face, he turned his horse and galloped back to a large body of lances, -a little in the rear of the line.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Unhappy man!" said the king; and turning to Guerin, he added--"Let -him be looked to, Guerin. See who is with him."</p> - -<p class="normal">On sending to inquire, however, it was replied, that the Count -d'Auvergne was there with his vassals and followers, to serve his -sovereign Philip Augustus, in his wars, as a true and faithful -liegeman.</p> - -<p class="normal">Satisfied, therefore, that he was under good and careful guidance, the -king turned his thoughts back to other subjects; and, having briefly -thanked his barons for their ready zeal, commanded the army to begin -its march upon Lille.</p> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<h3>CHAPTER XII.</h3> -<br> - -<p class="continue">Between Mortain and Tournay, in a small road with high banks on either -side, the shrubs and flowers of which were covered with a thick -coating of dust, rode two of our old acquaintances, on the same -morning that the review we have just described took place in the army -of the king.</p> - -<p class="normal">The first, armed in haubergeon and casque, with his haussecol, or -gorget, hiding his long beard, and his helmet covering his short cut -hair, it was no longer difficult to recognise as Jodelle the -Brabançois, whom we saw last in an assumed character before Philip -Augustus. By his side, more gaudily costumed than ever, with a long -peacock's feather ornamenting his black cap, rode Gallon the fool.</p> - -<p class="normal">Though two persons of such respectability might well have pretended to -some attendants, they were alone; and Jodelle, who seemed in some -haste, and not particularly pleased with his companion's society, was -pricking on at a sharp pace. But Gallon's mare, on which he was once -more mounted, had been trained by himself, and ambled after the -coterel's horse, with a sweet sort of pertinacity from which there was -no escaping.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Why follow you me, fool, devil?" cried the Brabançois.--"Get thee -gone! We shall meet again. Fear not! I am in haste; and, my curse upon -those idiot Saxons that let you go, when I charged them to keep you, -after you hunted me all the way from your camp to ours last night."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Haw, haw!" cried Gallon, showing all his white sharp teeth to the -very back, as he grinned at Jodelle;--"haw, haw! thou art ungrateful, -sire Jodelle--Haw, haw! to think of a coterel being ungrateful! Did -not I let thee into all Coucy's secrets two days ago? Did not I save -thy neck from the hangman five months ago? And now, thou ungrateful -hound, thou grudgest me thy sweet company.--Haw, haw! I that love -thee,--haw, haw, haw! I that enjoy thy delectable society!--Haw, haw! -Haw, haw! Haw, haw!" and he rolled and shouted with laughter, as if -the very idea of any one loving the Brabançois was sufficient to -furnish the whole world with mirth. "So, thou toldest thy brute -Saxons to keep me, or hang me, or burn me alive, if they would, last -night--ay, and my bonny mare too; saying, it was as great devil as -myself. Haw, haw! maître Jodelle! They told me all. But they fell in -love with my phiz; and let me go, all for the sweetness of my -countenance. Who can resist my wonderous charms?" and he contorted his -features into a form that left them the likeness of nothing human. -"But I'll plague thee!" he continued; "I'll never leave thee, till I -see what thou dost with that packet in thy bosom.--Haw, haw! I'll -teaze thee! I have plagued the Coucy enough, for a blow he gave me one -day. Haw, haw! that I have! Now, methinks, I'll have done with that, -and do him some good service!"</p> - -<p class="normal">"Thou'lt never serve him more, fool!" cried Jodelle, his eyes gleaming -with sanguinary satisfaction; "I have paid him, too, for the blow he -gave me--and for more things than that! His head is off by this time, -juggler! I heard the order given myself--ay, and I caused that order. -Ha! canst thou do a feat like that?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"Haw, haw! Haw, haw, haw!" screamed Gallon, wriggling his snout hither -and thither, and holding his sides with laughter. "Haw, haw! thou -dolt! thou ass! thou block! thou stump of an old tree! By the Lord! -thou must be a wit after all, to invent such a piece of uncommon -stupidity.--Haw, haw, haw! Haw, haw! Didst thou think, that I would -have furnished thee with a good tale against the Coucy, and given -thee means of speech with the chancellor himself, without taking -care to get the cow-killing, hammer-fisted homicide out of the way -first?--Haw, haw! thou idiot. Haw, haw, haw!--Lord! what an ass a -coterel is!--Haw, haw, haw!"</p> - -<p class="normal">"Not such an ass as thou dreamest, fiend!" muttered Jodelle, setting -his teeth close, and almost resolved to aim a blow with his dagger at -the juggler as he rode beside him. But Gallon had always one of his -eyes, at least, fixed upon his companion; and, in truth, Jodelle had -seen so much of his extraordinary activity and strength that he held -Gallon in some dread, and scarcely dared to close with him in fair and -equal fight. He had smothered his vengeance for long, however, and he -had no inclination to delay it much longer, as the worthy Brabançois -had more reasons than one for resolving to rid himself of the society -of a person so little trustworthy as Gallon, in the most summary -manner possible--but the only question was how to take him at a -disadvantage.</p> - -<p class="normal">For this purpose, it was necessary to cover every appearance of wrath, -that the juggler might be thrown off his guard. Jodelle smoothed his -brow therefore, and, after a moment, affected to join in Gallon's -laugh. "Thou art a cunning dealer!" said he--"thou art a cunning -dealer, sir Gallon! But, in troth, I should like to know how thou -didst contrive to beguile this De Coucy away from the army, as thou -sayest, at such a moment."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Haw, haw!" cried Gallon--"haw, haw! 'Twas no hard work. How dost thou -catch a sparrow, sire Jodelle? Is it not by spreading out some crumbs? -Well, by the holy rood! as he says himself, I sent him a goose's -errand all the way down the river, to reconnoitre a party of men whom -I made Ermold the page, make Hugo the squire, make Coucy the knight, -believe were going to take the king's host on the flank!--Haw, haw! Oh -rare!"</p> - -<p class="normal">"By St. Peter! thou hast betrayed what I told thee when we were -drinking two nights since," cried Jodelle. "Fool! thou wilt have my -dagger in thee if thou heedest not!"</p> - -<p class="normal">"Oh rare!" shouted Gallon, "Oh rare! What then, did I tell the Coucy -true, when I said Count Julian of the Mount, and William de la Roche -Guyon, were there with ten thousand men?--Haw, haw! did I tell him -true, coterel? Talk not to me of daggers, lout, or I'll drive mine in -under thy fifth rib, and leave thee as dead as a horse's bones on a -common. Haw, haw! I thought the Coucy would have gone down with all -the men of Tankerville, and have chined me that fair-faced coward, -that once fingered this great monument of my beauty;" and he laid his -finger on his long unnatural snout, with so mingled an expression of -face, that it was difficult to decide whether he spoke in vanity or -mockery. "But he only went down to reconnoitre," added the juggler. -"The great ninny! he might have swallowed father and lover up at a -mouthful, and then married the heiress if he had liked! And he calls -me fool, too! Oh rare!--But where art thou going, beau sire Jodelle? I -saw all your army a-foot before I left them to come after you; and I -dreamed that they were going to cut off the king at the passage by -Bovines; and doubtless thou art bearer of an order to Sir Julian, and -Count William, with the Duke of Limburg and the men of Ardennes, to -take him in the rear. Haw, haw! there will be fine smashing of bones, -and hacking of flesh. I must be there to have the picking of the dead -men."</p> - -<p class="normal">Thus ran on Gallon, rambling from subject to subject, but withal -betraying so clear a knowledge of all the plans of the imperial army, -that Jodelle believed his information to be little less than magical; -though indeed Gallon was indebted for it to strolling amongst the -tents of the Germans the night before, and catching here and -there, while he amused the knights and squires with his tricks of -<i>jonglerie</i>, all the rumours that were afloat concerning the movements -of the next day. From these, with a happiness that madness sometimes -has, he jumped at conclusions, which many a wiser brain would have -missed, and, like a blind man stumbling on a treasure, hit by accident -upon the exact truth.</p> - -<p class="normal">As his conversation with Jodelle arrived at this particular point, the -road which they were pursuing opened out upon a little irregular piece -of ground, bisected by another by-path, equally ornamented by high -rough banks. Nevertheless, neither of these roads traversed the centre -of the little green or common; the one which the travellers were -pursuing skirting along the side, under the sort of cliff by which it -was flanked, and the other edging the opposite extreme. At the -intersection of the paths, however, on the very top of the farther -bank, stood a tall elm tree, which Gallon measured with his eye as -they approached.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Haw, haw!" cried he, delighting in every recollection that might -prove unpleasant to his neighbours.--"Haw, haw! Beau sire Jodelle! -Monstrous like the tree on which they were going to hang you, near the -Pont de l'Arche! Haw, haw, haw! The time when you were like to be -hanged, and I saved you--you remember?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"Thou didst not save me, fool!" replied the Brabançois: "'twas king -John saved me. I would not owe my life to such a foul fool as thou -art, for all that it is worth. The king saved my life to do a great -deed of vengeance, which I will accomplish yet before I die," added -Jodelle, "and then I'll account with him too, for what I owe him--he -shall not be forgot! no, no!" and the plunderer's eyes gleamed as he -thought of the fate that the faithless monarch had appointed for him, -and connected it with the vague schemes of vengeance that were -floating through his own brain.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Haw, haw!" cried Gallon. "If thou goest not to hell, sire Jodelle, -thou art sure t'will not be for lack of thanklessness, to back your -fair bevy of gentlemanly vices. John, the gentle, sent thee thy -pardon, that thou mightest murder De Coucy for prating of his -murdering Arthur,--I know that as well as thou dost; but had my tongue -not been quicker than his messenger's horse, thou wouldst soon have -been farther on your road to heaven than ever you may be again. Oh -rare! How the crows of the <i>Pont de l'Arche</i> must hate me! Haw, haw! -vinegar face! didst ever turn milk sour with thy sharp nose?--Hark! -Hear you not a distant clatter? Your army is marching down towards the -bridge, prince Pumkin," he rambled on; "I'll up into yon tree, and -see; for this country is as flat as peas porridge."</p> - -<p class="normal">So saying. Gallon sprang to the ground, climbed the bank in an -instant, and walked up the straight boll of the tree, as easily as if -he had been furnished with a ladder; giving a quick glance round, -however, every step, to see that Jodelle did not take any advantage of -him.</p> - -<p class="normal">His movements had been so rapid, that with the best intentions -thereunto in the world, the coterel could not have injured him in his -ascent; and when he was once up, he began to question him on what he -saw.</p> - -<p class="normal">"What do I see?" said Gallon. "Why, when I look that way, I see German -asses, and Lorraine foxes, and English curs, and Flanders mules, all -marching down towards the river as quietly as may be; and when I look -the other way, I perceive a whole band of French monkeys, tripping on -gaily without seeing the others; and when I look down there," he -continued, pointing to Jodelle, "I see a Provençal wolf, hungry for -plunder, and thirsty for blood;" and Gallon began to descend the tree.</p> - -<p class="normal">As he had spoken, there was a sound of horses heard coming up the -road, and Jodelle spurred close up under the bank, as if to catch a -glance of the persons who were approaching; but, at the same moment, -he quietly drew his sword. Gallon instantly perceived his manœuvre, -and attempted to spring up the tree once more.</p> - -<p class="normal">Ere he could do so, however, Jodelle struck at him; and though he -could only reach high enough to wound the tendon of his leg, the pain -made the juggler let go his hold, and he fell to the top of the bank, -nearly on a level with the face of the coterel, who, rising in his -stirrups, with the full lunge of his arm, plunged his sword into his -body.</p> - -<p class="normal">Though mortally wounded, Gallon, without word or groan, rolled down -the bank, and clung to the legs of his enemy's horse, impeding the -motions of the animal as much as if it had been clogged; while at the -same time Jodelle now urged it furiously with the spur; for the sound -of coming cavaliers, and the glance of a knight's pennon from behind -the turn of the road, at about an hundred yards' distance, showed him -that he must either ride on, or take the risk of the party being -inimical to his own.</p> - -<p class="normal">Three times the horse, plunging furiously under the spur, set its feet -full on the body of the unfortunate juggler; but still he kept his -hold, without a speech or outcry, till suddenly shouting "Haw, -haw!--Haw, haw, haw!--The Coucy! the Coucy! Haw, haw!" he let go his -hold; and the coterel galloped on at full speed, ascertaining by a -single glance, that Gallon's shout announced nothing but the truth.</p> - -<p class="normal">De Coucy's eyes were quick, however; and his horse far fleeter than -that of the coterel. He saw Jodelle, and recognised him instantly; -while the dying form of Gallon, and the blood that stained the dry -white sand of the road, in dark red patches round about, told their -own tale, and were not to be mistaken. Without pausing to clasp his -visor, or to brace his shield, the knight snatched his lance from his -squire, struck his spurs into the flanks of his charger; and, before -Jodelle had reached the other side of the little green, the iron of -the spear struck him between the shoulders, and, passing through his -plastron as if it had been made of parchment, hurled him from his -horse, never to mount again. A shrill cry like that of a wounded -vulture, as the knight struck him, and a deep groan as he fell to the -ground, were the only sounds that the plunderer uttered more. De Coucy -tugged at his lance for a moment, endeavouring to shake it free from -the body; but, finding that he could not do so without dismounting, he -left it in the hands of his squire, and returned to the spot where -Gallon the fool still lay, surrounded by part of the young knight's -train.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Coucy, Coucy!" cried the dying juggler, in a faint voice, "Gallon is -going on the long journey! Come hither, and speak to him before he -sets out!"</p> - -<p class="normal">The young knight put his foot to the ground, and came close up to his -wounded follower, who gazed on him with wistful eyes, in which shone -the first glance of affection, perhaps, that ever he had bestowed on -mortal man.</p> - -<p class="normal">"I am sorry to leave thee, Coucy!" said he, "I am sorry to leave thee, -now it comes to this--I love thee better than I thought. Give me thy -hand."</p> - -<p class="normal">De Coucy spoke a few words of kindness to him, and let him take his -hand, which he carried feebly to his lips, and licked it like a dying -dog.</p> - -<p class="normal">"I have spited you very often, Coucy," said the juggler; "and do you -know I am sorry for it now, for you have been kinder to me than any -one else. Will you forgive me?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"Yes, my poor Gallon," replied the knight: "I know of no great evil -thou hast done; and even if thou hast, I forgive thee from my heart."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Heaven bless thee for it!" said Gallon.--"Heaven bless thee for -it!--But hark thee, De Coucy! I will do thee one good turn before I -die. Give me some wine out of thy <i>boutiau</i>, mad Ermold the page, and -I will tell the Coucy where I have wronged him, and where he may right -himself. Give me some wine, quick, for my horse is jogging to the -other world."</p> - -<p class="normal">Ermold, as he was desired, put the leathern bottle, which every one -travelled with in those days, to the lips of the dying man; who, after -a long draught, proceeded with his confession. We will pass over many -a trick which he acknowledged to have played his lord in the Holy -Land, at Constantinople, and in Italy, always demanding between each, -"Can you forgive me now?" De Coucy's heart was not one to refuse -pardon to a dying man; and Gallon proceeded to speak of the deceit he -had put upon him concerning the lands of the Count de Tankerville. "It -was all false together," said he. "The Vidame of Besançon told me to -tell you, that his friend, the Count de Tankerville, had sent a -charter to be kept in the king's hands, giving you all his feofs; and -now, when he sees you with the army, commanding the men of -Tankerville, the vidame thinks that you are commanding them by your -own right, not out of the good will of the king. Besides, he told me, -he did not know whether your uncle was dead or not; but that Bernard, -the hermit of Vincennes, could inform you."</p> - -<p class="normal">"But why did you not--?" demanded De Coucy.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Ask me no questions, Coucy," cried Gallon: "I have but little breath -left; and that must go to tell you something more important still. -From the top of yon tree, I saw the king marching down to the bridge -at Bovines; and, without his knowing it, the enemy are marching after -him. If he gets half over, he is lost. I heard Henry of Brabant last -night say, that they would send a plan of their battle to the Duke of -Limburg, Count Julian, and William de la Roche Guyon, whose troops I -sent you after, down the river. He said too," proceeded Gallon, -growing apparently fainter as he spoke,--"he said too, that it was to -be carried by one who well knew the French camp. Oh, Coucy, my breath -fails me. Jodelle, the coterel--he is the man, I am sure--the papers -are on him.--But, Coucy! Coucy!" he continued, gasping for breath, and -holding the knight with a sort of convulsive grasp, as he saw him -turning to seek the important packet he mentioned,--"do not go, Coucy! -do not go to the camp--they think you a traitor.--Oh, how dim my eyes -grow!--They will have your head off--don't go--you'll be of no use -with the head off--Haw, haw! haw, haw!" And with a faint effort at his -old wild laugh. Gallon the fool gave one or two sharp shudders, and -yielded the spirit, still holding De Coucy tight by the arm.</p> - -<p class="normal">"He is gone!" said the knight, disengaging himself from his grasp. -"Our army marching upon Bovines!" continued he: "can it be true? They -were not to quit Tournay for two days.--Up, Ermold, into that tree, -and see whether you can gain any sight of them. Quick! for we must -spur hard, if it be true.--You, Hugo, search the body of the -coterel.--Quick, Ermold--hold by that branch--there, your foot on the -other! See you any thing now?"</p> - -<p class="normal">With some difficulty, Ermold de Marcy, though an active youth, had -climbed half-way up the tree that Gallon had sprung up like a -squirrel; and now, holding round it with both legs and arms, he gazed -out over the far prospect. "I see spears," cried he,--"I see spears -marching on by the river--and I can see the bridge too!"</p> - -<p class="normal">"Are there any men on it?" cried De Coucy:--"how far is it from the -foremost spears?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"It is clear yet!" replied the page; "but the lances in the van are -not half a mile from it!"</p> - -<p class="normal">"Look to the right!--look to the right!" cried the knight; "towards -Mortain, what see you?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"I see a clump or two of spears," replied the youth, "scattered here -and there; but over one part, that seems a valley, there rises a -cloud;--it maybe the morning mist--it may be dust:--stay, I will climb -higher;" and he contrived to reach two or three branches above. -"Lances, as I live!" cried he: "I see the steel heads glittering -through the cloud of dust, and moving on, just above the place where -the hill cuts them. They are rising above the slope--now they dip down -again--thousands on thousands--never did I see such a host in -Christendom or Paynimry!"</p> - -<p class="normal">"Come down, Ermold, and mount!" cried the knight. "Two of the servants -of arms, take up yon poor fellow's body!" he continued, "and bear it -to the cottage where we watered our horses but now--then follow -towards the bridge with all speed.--Now, Hugo, hast thou the packet? -'Tis it, by the holy rood!" he added, taking a sealed paper that the -squire had found upon Jodelle. "To horse! to horse! We shall reach the -king's host yet, ere the van has passed the bridge. He must fight -there or lose all." And followed by the small body of spears that -accompanied him, Guy de Coucy spurred on at full gallop towards the -bridge of Bovines.</p> - -<p class="normal">The distance might be about four miles; but ere he had ridden one-half -of that way, he came suddenly upon a body of about twenty spears, at -the top of a slight rise that concealed each party till they were -within fifty yards of the other. "Down with your lances!" cried De -Coucy; "France! France! A Coucy! a Coucy!" and in an instant the -spears of his followers, to the number of about seventy, were levelled -in a long straight row.</p> - -<p class="normal">"France! France!" echoed the other party; and, riding forward, De -Coucy was met in mid space by the Chancellor Guerin,--armed at all -points, but bearing the coat and cross of a knight hospitaller--and -Adam Viscount de Melun, who had together ridden out from the main body -of the army, to ascertain the truth of some vague reports, that the -enemy had left Mortain, and was pursuing with all his forces.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Well met. Sir Guy de Coucy," said Guerin. "By your cry of France but -now, I trust you are no traitor to France, though strange accusations -against you reached the king last night; and your absence at a moment -of danger countenanced them. I have order," he added, "to attach you -for treason."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Whosoever calls me traitor, lies in his teeth," replied the knight -rapidly, eager to arrive at the king's host with all speed. "My -absence was in the kings service; and as to attaching me for treason, -lord bishop," he added with a smile, "methinks my seventy lances -against your twenty will soon cancel your warrant. I dreamed not that -the king would think of marching to-day, being Sunday, or I should -have returned before. But now, my lord, my errand is to the king -himself, and 'tis one also that requires speed. The enemy are -following like hounds behind the deer. I have here a plan of their -battle. They hope to surprise the king at the passage of the river. He -must halt on this side, or all is lost. From that range of low hills, -most likely you will see the enemy advancing.--Farewell."</p> - -<p class="normal">Guerin, who had never for a moment doubted the young knight's -innocence, did not of course attempt to stay him, and De Coucy once -more galloped on at full speed. He soon began to fall in with -stragglers from the different bodies of the royal forces; camp -followers, plunderers, skirmishers, pedlars, jugglers, cooks, and all -the train of extraneous living lumber attached to an army of the -thirteenth century. From these he could gain no certain information -of where the king was to be found. Some said he had passed the -bridge,--some said he was yet in the rear; and, finding that they were -all as ignorant on the subject as himself, the young knight sped on; -and passing by several of the thick battalions which were hurrying on -through clouds of July dust towards the bridge, he demanded of one of -the leaders, where was the king.</p> - -<p class="normal">"I heard but now, that he was in that green meadow to the right," -replied the other knight; "and, see!" he added, pointing with his -lance, "that may be he, under those ash-trees."</p> - -<p class="normal">De Coucy turned his eyes in the direction the other pointed, and -perceived a group of persons, some on horseback, some on foot, -standing round one who, stretched upon the grass, lay resting himself -under the shadow of a graceful clump of ash-trees. Close behind him -stood a squire, holding a casque in his hand; and another, at a little -distance, kept in the ardour of a magnificent battle-horse, that, -neighing and pawing the grass, seemed eager to join the phalanx that -defiled before him.</p> - -<p class="normal">It was evidently the king who lay there; and De Coucy, bringing his -men to a halt, at the side of the high road, along which the rest were -pressing, troop after troop, towards the bridge, spurred on, followed -by his squires alone, and rode up to the group at once.</p> - -<p class="normal">Philip Augustus raised his eyes to De Coucy's face as he came up; and, -at a few paces, the young knight sprang from his horse, and casting -his rein to Hugo de Barre, approached the monarch.</p> - -<p class="normal">"My lord," said he earnestly, as soon as he was within hearing, "I -beseech you to order a halt, and command your troops who have passed -the bridge to return. The enemy are not half a mile from you; and -before half the army can pass, you will be attacked on all sides."</p> - -<p class="normal">De Coucy spoke rapidly, and the king answered in the same manner. "Sir -Guy de Coucy," said he, without rising, however, "you are accused to -me of treason. Ought I to listen to counsel from a man in that -situation?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"My lord the king," replied the knight, "God send you many such good -<i>traitors</i> as I am! There is the enemy's plan of attack;--at least, so -I believe, for I have not opened it. You will see by the seal it is -from the Duke of Brabant; and by the superscription, that it is to the -Duke of Limburgh, together with Count Julian of the Mount, and Count -William de la Roche Guyon, his allies. I reconnoitred their forces -last night; they amount to fifteen thousand men; and lie three miles -down the river."</p> - -<p class="normal">The king took the paper, and hastily cut the silk with his dagger. -"Halt!" cried he, after glancing his eye over it. "Mareuil de -Malvoisin, command a halt!--Ho, Guerin!" he cried, seeing the minister -riding quickly towards him. "Have you seen the enemy?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"They are advancing with all speed, sire," shouted the hospitaller as -he rode up. "For God's sake, sire, call back the troops! They are -coming up like the swarms of locusts we have seen in Palestine. Their -spears are like corn in August."</p> - -<p class="normal">"We will reap them," cried Philip, starting up with a triumphant smile -upon his lip,--"we will reap them!--To arms! Warriors, to arms!" And -putting his foot in the stirrup, he stood with his hand upon the -horse's neck, turning to those about him, and multiplying his orders -with the prompt activity of his keen all-grasping mind. "The oriflamme -has passed the bridge; speed to bring it back, Renault.--Hugo, to the -Count of St. Pol! bid him return with all haste.--De Coucy, I did you -wrong--forget it, and strike this day as you are wont.--Guerin, array -the host as we determined. See that the faithful communes be placed in -our own battle, but let Arras and Amiens hold the second line. Let the -barons and the knights stretch out as far as may be;--remember! every -man's own lance and shield must be his safeguard.--Eustache, speed to -the Count de Beaumont; bid him re-pass the river at the ford, and take -his place at the right.--Now, Guerin, hasten! Let the sergeants of -Soissons begin the battle, that the enemy may be broken ere the -knights charge.--Away, De Coucy! Lead Tankerville well, and win the -day.--Guillaume de Mortemar, stay by our person."</p> - -<p class="normal">Such were some of the orders given by Philip Augustus: then, springing -on his horse, he received his casque, and, raising the visor, sat in -silence gazing upon the field, which was clear and open on all sides, -except the road, through which the troops were still seen approaching -towards the bridge; and which, in the other direction, wound away -towards Tournay, through some small woods and valleys that hid the -rear guard from view.</p> - -<p class="normal">In the meanwhile, Guerin, whose long experience as a knight -hospitaller qualified him well to marshal the army, hastened to array -all the troops that had yet arrived on the plain, taking care to keep -the entrance of the bridge free, that the forces which had already -passed and were returning upon their steps, might take up their -position without confusion and disarray. At that moment, a messenger -arrived in breathless haste from the rear of the army, stating that -the enemy were already engaged with the light troops of Auxerre, who -sustained themselves with difficulty, and demanded help. But even -while he spoke, the two bodies engaged issued forth upon the plain; -and the spears of the whole imperial army began to bristle over the -hills.</p> - -<p class="normal">The trumpets of the French sounded as their enemies appeared; and it -seemed that the emperor was not a little surprised to find his -adversary so well prepared to meet him.</p> - -<p class="normal">Whether the unexpected sight of so large a body of troops drawn up to -oppose them embarrassed the confederates and deranged their plans, or -whether Philip's first line covering the bridge they did not perceive -that a great part of his forces were still either on the other side of -the river, or engaged in repassing it, cannot now be told; but they -took no advantage of so favourable a moment for attack. The body -engaged with the rear of Philip's army was called back; and wheeling -to the right of the road by which they came, they took up their -position on the slope of the hills to the north of the plain, while -Philip eagerly seized the opportunity of displaying his forces on the -southern side, thus having the eyes of his soldiers turned away from -the burning sun, that shone full in the faces of the adverse host. An -army commanded by many chiefs, is of course never well led; for what -may be gained by consultation is ever lost by indecision; and the two -great faults thus committed by the confederates were probably owing to -the uncertainty of their councils.</p> - -<p class="normal">However that might be, they suffered Philip greatly to recover the -unity of his forces, and to take up the best position on the field; -after which succeeded a pause, as if they hesitated to begin the -strife, though theirs had been the party to follow and to urge their -enemy to a battle, and though they had overtaken him at the precise -moment which they had themselves planned, and in which an attack must -have proved the most disastrous.</p> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<h3>CHAPTER XIII.</h3> -<br> - -<p class="continue">For several minutes after the two armies were thus ranged opposite -each other, both stood without motion, gazing on the adverse host. The -front line was composed almost entirely of cavalry, which formed in -those days the great strength of an army, and uniformly decided the -event of a battle; but between the long battalions of the knights and -men-at-arms were ranged close bodies of cross-bowmen and archers, who -waited but a signal to commence the engagement with their missiles.</p> - -<p class="normal">Standing thus face to face, with but a narrow space between them, the -two hosts seemed as if contemplating the glittering array of the -field, which, if we may believe the "<i>branch of royal lineages</i>," -offered on either part as splendid a pageant as ever a royal court -exhibited on fête or tournament. "There," it says in its naif jargon, -"you might see many a pleasant coat of arms, and many a neat and -gentle device, tissued of gold and various shining colours, blue, -vermilion, yellow, and green. There were to be seen serried shields, -and neighing horses, and ringing arms, pennons and banners, and helms -and glittering crests."</p> - -<p class="normal">To the left of the imperial army appeared Ferrand, Count of Flanders, -with an immense host of hardy Flemings, together with the Count de -Boulogne and several other of the minor confederates; while, opposed -to him, was the young Duke of Champagne, the Duke of Burgundy, and the -men of the commune of Soissons. To the right of the imperial army was -a small body of English, with the Duke of Brabant and his forces in -face of the Comte de Dreux, the Bishop of Beauvais, and a body of the -troops of the clergy; while in the centre of each host, and -conspicuous to both, were Otho, Emperor of Germany, and Philip -Augustus of France, commanding in person the chosen knights of either -monarchy.</p> - -<p class="normal">In the midst of the dark square of lances that surrounded the emperor -was to be seen a splendid car, from the centre of which rose a tall -pole, bearing on the top the imperial standard, a golden eagle -hovering above a dragon; while, beside Philip Augustus, was borne the -royal banner of France,<a name="div4Ref_29" href="#div4_29"><sup>[29]</sup></a> consisting of an azure field embroidered -with fleurs de lis of gold. On either hand of the king were ranged the -knights selected to attend his person, whom we find named as William -des Barres, Barthelmy de Roye, Peter de Malvoisin, Gerard Scropha, -Steven of Longchamp, William of Mortemar, John of Rouvrai, William de -Garlande, and Henry, Count de Bar, all men distinguished in arms, and -chosen for their high and chivalrous qualities.</p> - -<p class="normal">A dead silence pervaded the field. Each host, as we have said, gazed -upon the other, still and motionless, waiting in awful expectation the -first movement which should begin the horrid scene of carnage about to -follow. It wanted but a word--a sign--the levelling of a lance--the -sounding of a trumpet, to cast the whole dark mass of bloodthirsty -insects there assembled into strife and mutual destruction: but yet -there was a pause; as if each monarch felt the dreadful responsibility -which that signal would bring upon his head, and hesitated to give it. -Some reflections of the kind certainly passed through the mind of -Philip Augustus; for, turning to William de Mortemar, he said, "We -must begin the fight--I seek not their blood, but God gives us a right -to defend ourselves. They have leagued to crush me, and the carnage of -this day be upon their head. Where is the oriflamme?" he continued, -looking round for the consecrated banner of St. Denis.</p> - -<p class="normal">"It has not yet repassed the river, sire," replied Gerard Scropha. "I -heard the tramp of the communes still coming over the bridge, and -filling up the ranks behind. The oriflamme was the first banner that -passed, and therefore of course will be the last that returns.</p> - -<p class="normal">"We must not wait for it then," said the king. "Henry de Bar, speed to -Guerin, who is on the right, with the Count de St. Paul; bid them -begin the battle by throwing in a few men-at-arms to shake that heavy -line of the Flemings. Then let the knights charge."</p> - -<p class="normal">The young count bowed low, and set spurs to his horse; but his very -passage along the line was a signal for the confederates to commence -the fight. A flight of arrows and quarrels instantly darkened the sky, -and fell thick as hail amongst the ranks of the French; the trumpets -sounded, the lances were levelled, and two of the king's chaplains, -who were placed at a little distance behind him, began to sing the -hundred and forty-third Psalm, while the tears rolled plentifully from -their eyes, from the effects of mingled fear, agitation, and devotion.</p> - -<p class="normal">In the meanwhile, an hundred and fifty sergeants of arms charged the -whole force of the Count of Flanders, according to the order of the -king. His intention was completely fulfilled.<a name="div4Ref_30" href="#div4_30"><sup>[30]</sup></a> Dropping the points -of their lances, the French men-at-arms cast themselves into the midst -of the Flemish knights, who, indignant at being attacked by men who -had not received the honours of chivalry, fell upon them furiously, -with little regard to their own good order.</p> - -<p class="normal">In an instant, the horses of the French men-at-arms were all slain; -but being men of the commune of Soissons, trained to fight on foot as -well as on horseback, they prolonged the fight hand to hand with the -enemy's knights, and completely succeeded in throwing the centre of -the imperial left wing into disarray. At that moment, the battalion of -knights, under the Count de St. Paul, charged in support of the -men-at-arms, and with their long lances levelled in line swept all -before them, cleaving through the host of Flemings, and scattering -them abroad upon the plain, as a thunderbolt strikes a pine, and rends -it into atoms.</p> - -<p class="normal">The strife, thus begun upon the right wing of the royal army, soon -communicated itself to the centre; where, on a small mound sat Philip -Augustus, viewing with a calm observing eye the progress of the -battle, though gradually the dust and steam of the fight, and the -confused groups of the combatants, falling every moment into greater -disorder, would have confounded a less keen and experienced glance -than his.</p> - -<p class="normal">Though the left was now also engaged, the monarch's eye principally -rested upon the right wing of his forces, where the Count of St. Paul, -the Dukes of Burgundy and Champagne, were still struggling hard with -the Flemings, whose second and third line, having come up, had turned -the fortune of the day, and were driving back the French towards the -river.</p> - -<p class="normal">"By the Lord of Heaven! Burgundy is down!" cried Philip. "Ho, Michael, -gallop to Sir Guy de Coucy; tell him to charge with the men of -Tankerville, to support the good Duke of Burgundy! Away!"</p> - -<p class="normal">The sergeant to whom he spoke galloped off like lightning to the spot -where De Coucy was placed as a reserve.</p> - -<p class="normal">"By Heaven! the duke is down, and his banner too!" continued the king, -turning to Guerin, who now had joined him. "De Coucy moves not yet. -St. Denis to boot! they will turn our flank. Is the knight a coward or -mad?--Away, Guerin! Bid him charge for his honour."</p> - -<p class="normal">But the king saw not what De Coucy saw, that a fresh corps of the -confederates was debouching from the road behind the imperial army. If -he attacked the Flemings before this body had advanced, he not only -left his own rear unguarded, but the flank of the whole army totally -exposed. He paused, therefore notwithstanding the critical situation -of the Duke of Burgundy, till such time as this fresh body had, in the -hurry and confusion of their arrival, advanced between him and the -Flemings.</p> - -<p class="normal">Then, however, the fifteen hundred lances he commanded were levelled -in an instant: the trumpets sounded, the chargers sprang forward, and, -hurled like an avalanche against the flank of this newly arrived -corps, the squadron of De Coucy drove them in pell-mell upon the -Flemings, forced the Flemings themselves back upon the troops of the -emperor, and left a clear space for the soldiers of Burgundy and -Champagne, to rally round their chiefs.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Brave De Coucy!" cried the king, who had marked the manœuvre. "Good -knight! Stout lance! All goes down before him. Burgundy is up. His -banner waves again. Ride, Walter the young, and compliment the duke -for me. Who are these coming down? I cannot see for the dust."</p> - -<p class="normal">"They are the burgesses of Compiègne and Abbeville, and the oriflamme, -sire," replied Guillaume des Barres. "They want a taste of the fight, -and are forcing themselves in between us and those Saxon serfs, who -are advancing straight towards us."</p> - -<p class="normal">As he spoke the men of the communes, eager to signalise themselves in -the service of a king who had done so much for them, marched boldly -into the very front of the battle, and mingled hand to hand with an -immense body of German infantry that were approaching rapidly towards -the king.</p> - -<p class="normal">The French communes, however, were inferior to the burly Saxons, both -in number and in strength; and were, after an obstinate fight, driven -back to the very foot of the mound on which Philip was placed. The -knights and men-at-arms who surrounded him, seeing the battle so near -the monarch's person, charged through the ranks of the burgesses, and, -mingling with the Saxon infantry, cut them down in all directions with -their long heavy swords. The German cavalry again spurred forward to -support their own communes; and the fight became general around the -immediate person of the monarch, who remained on the summit of the -hillock, with no one but the Count de Montigny, bearing his standard, -and Sir Stephen of Longchamp, who had refrained from following the -rest into the melée.</p> - -<p class="normal">"For God's sake! sire, retire a little!" said the knight: "if you are -hurt, all is lost."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Not a step, for a thousand empires!" replied the king, drawing down -his visor and unsheathing his sword, as he beheld three or four German -knights spurring towards him at full career, followed by a large troop -of footmen, contending with the burghers of Compiègne. "We must do our -devoir as a knight as well as a king, Sir Stephen."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Mine then as a knight!" cried Stephen of Longchamp, laying his lance -in rest; and on he galloped at the foremost of the German knights, -whom he hurled dead from his horse, pierced from side to side with the -iron of the spear.</p> - -<p class="normal">The German that followed, however, without, spending a blow on the -French knight's casque, plunged his sword in his horse's chest, at a -spot where the iron barding was wanting. Rider and horse went down at -once; and the German, springing to the ground, drew a long knife from -his side, and knelt upon his prostrate adversary's chest.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Denis Mountjoy!" cried the king, galloping on to the aid of his -faithful follower. "Denis Mountjoy! <i>au secours!</i>"; But before he could -arrive, the German knight had plunged his knife through the bars of -the fallen man's helmet, and Stephen Longchamp was no more. The -monarch avenged him, however, if he could not save; and, as the -Saxon's head was bent down, accomplishing his bloody purpose, he -struck him so fierce a blow on the back of his neck, with the full -sway of a vigorous and practised arm, that the hood of his mail shirt -yielded at once to the blow, and the edge of the weapon drove on -through the backbone.</p> - -<p class="normal">At that moment, however, the king found himself surrounded on every -side by the German foot, who hemmed him in with their short pikes. The -only knight who was near him was the Count de Montigny, bearing the -royal banner; and nothing was to be seen around but the fierce faces -of the Saxon pikemen looking out from under their steel caps, drawing -their circle closer and closer round him, and fixing their eager eyes -upon the crown that he wore on the crest of his helmet--or else the -forms of some German knights at a short distance, whirling about like -armed phantoms, through the clouds of dust that enveloped the whole -scene.</p> - -<p class="normal">Still Philip fought with desperate valour, plunging his horse into the -ranks of the pikemen, and dealing sweeping blows around with his -sword, which four or five times succeeded in clearing the space -immediately before him.</p> - -<p class="normal">Well and nobly too did the Count de Montigny do his devoir, holding -with one hand the royal banner, which he raised and depressed -continually, to give notice to all eyes of the monarch's danger, and -striking with the other on every side round Philip's person, which he -thus protected for many minutes from the near approach of his enemies.</p> - -<p class="normal">It was in vain, however, that the king and his banner-bearer displayed -such feats of chivalrous valour. Closer and closer the German -burgesses hemmed them in. Many of the Saxon knights became attracted -by the sight of the royal banner, and were urging their horses through -the melée towards the spot where the conflict was raging so fiercely, -when one of the serfs crept close to the king's charger. Philip felt -his horse reeling underneath him; and, in a moment, the animal fell to -the ground, bearing its rider down along with it.</p> - -<p class="normal">A hundred of the long, three-edged knives, with which many of the -Saxons fought that day, were instantly at the King's throat, and at -the bars of his helmet. One thought of Agnes--one brief prayer to -Heaven, was all that seemed allowed to Philip Augustus; but that -moment, the shout of "Auvergne! Auvergne!" rang upon his ear and -yielded hope.</p> - -<p class="normal">With his head bent down to his saddle-bow, receiving a thousand blows -as he came, his horse all in foam and blood, his armour hacked, -dented, and broken, Thibalt d'Auvergne clove the hostile press with -the fierce rapidity of a falcon in its stoop. He checked his horse but -by the royal banner; he sprang to the ground; dashed, weltering to the -earth, the boors who were kneeling on the prostrate body of the king, -and, striding over it, whirled his immense mace round his head, at -every blow sending the soul of some Saxon on the cold pilgrimage of -death. The burgesses reeled back; but at the same time the knights who -had been advancing, hurled themselves upon the Count d'Auvergne, and -heaped blow upon blow on his head.</p> - -<p class="normal">The safety of the whole host--the life and death, or captivity of the -king--the destiny of all Europe--perhaps of all the world, depended at -that moment on the arm of a madman. But that arm bore it all nobly up; -and, though his armour was actually hewn from his flesh, and he -himself bleeding from an hundred wounds, he wavered not a step; but, -still striding over the body of the king, as he lay unable to rise, -from the weight of his horse resting on his thigh, maintained his -ground till, knight after knight arriving on both sides, the combat -became more equal.</p> - -<p class="normal">Still the fight around the royal banner was doubtful, when the -battle-cry of De Coucy was heard approaching. "A Coucy! A Coucy! St. -Michael! St. Michael!" rang over the plain; and the long lances of -Tankerville, which had twice completely traversed and retraversed the -enemy's line,<a name="div4Ref_31" href="#div4_31"><sup>[31]</sup></a> were seen sweeping on, in unbroken masses, like a -thunder-cloud advancing over the heaven. The regular order they had -still preserved, as well as their admirable training, and confidence -in their leader, gave them vast superiority. The German pikemen were -trampled under their tread. The knights were forced back at the point -of the spear; the communes of Compiègne and Abbeville rallied behind -them, and, in a short time, the field around the royal banner was once -more clear of all enemies.</p> - -<p class="normal">The first thing was to free the king from the weight of his horse, -which had been stabbed in the neck, and was now quite dead. The -monarch rose; but, before he remounted, though there were a thousand -horses held ready for him, and a thousand voices pressing him to -mount, he exclaimed, "Where is the Count d'Auvergne? I owe him -life.--Stand back, Guillaume des Barres! your foot is on his chest. -That is he in the black armour!"</p> - -<p class="normal">It was indeed the unhappy Count d'Auvergne, who had borne up under a -multitude of wounds, till the life of the king was in safety. He had -then fallen in the melée, striking still, and lay upon a heap of dead -that his hand had made. By the king's order, his casque was instantly -unlaced; and Philip himself, kneeling beside him, raised his head upon -his knee, and gazed in the ashy face to see if the flame of life's -frail lamp was extinct indeed in the breast of him who had saved him -from the tomb.</p> - -<p class="normal">D'Auvergne opened his eyes, and looked faintly in the face of the -monarch. His lips moved, but no sound issued from them.</p> - -<p class="normal">"If thou diest, Auvergne," said Philip, in the fulness of his -gratitude, "I have lost my best subject."</p> - -<p class="normal">The count made another effort to speak. The king stooped over him, and -inclined his ear. "Tell her," said the broken accents of the dying -man,--"tell her--that for her love--I died--to save your life."</p> - -<p class="normal">"I will," said Philip Augustus!--"on my faith, I will! and I know her -not, or she will weep your fall."</p> - -<p class="normal">There was something like a faint smile played round the dying knight's -lip; his eyes fixed upon the king, and the spirit that lighted them -passed away for ever!</p> - -<p class="normal">"Farewell, Auvergne!" said the king. "Des Barres, see his body removed -and honoured. And now, good knights," cried he, springing on -horseback, "how fares the fight? My eyes have been absent too long. -But, by my faith! you have worked well while I was down. The enemy's -left is flying, or my sight deceives me."</p> - -<p class="normal">"'Tis true, my lord;--'tis true!" replied Guillaume des Barres; "and -Ferrand of Flanders himself is taken by the Duke of Burgundy."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Thank God for that!" cried Philip, and he turned his eyes quickly to -the centre. "They seem in strange confusion there. Where is the -imperial standard? Where is Otho himself?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"Otho has to do with Peter of Malvoisin and Gerard the Sow," replied -William des Barres, laughing, "and finds them unpleasant neighbours -doubtless. But do you know, sire, that a pike head is sticking in your -cuirass?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"Mind not that!" cried the king; "Let us charge! Otho's ranks are -broken; his men dispersed; one gallant charge, and the day is ours. -Down with your lances, De Coucy! Men of Soissons, follow the king! -knights, remember your own renown! Burghers, fight for your firesides! -Denis Mountjoy! Upon them! Charge!"</p> - -<p class="normal">It was the critical moment. Otho might have rallied; and his forces -were still more than double those of the king; while the Count de -Boulogne and the English, though the Earl of Salisbury had been dashed -from his horse by the mace of the bellicose Bishop of Beauvais, -were still maintaining the fight to the left. The well-timed and -well-executed charge of the king, however, accompanied, as he was, by -the choice chivalry of his realm, who had gathered about him to his -rescue, decided the fate of the day. The Germans fled in confusion. -Otho himself narrowly escaped being taken; and though a part of the -right wing of the confederates retreated in somewhat better array, yet -the defeat even there was complete, and the Earl of Salisbury and the -Count de Boulogne were both made prisoners.</p> - -<p class="normal">For nearly six hours the combat lasted; and, when at last the flight -was complete, the number of prisoners was so great, that Philip dared -not allow his troops to pursue the fugitives for any length of way, -lest he should be mastered at last by those he had just conquered.</p> - -<p class="normal">At five o'clock the trumpets sounded to the standard to recall the -pursuers; and thus ended the famous battle of Bovines--a strife and a -victory scarcely paralleled in history.</p> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<h3>CHAPTER XIV.</h3> -<br> - -<p class="continue">The hurry and confusion of the battle was over; order was greatly -restored; and the victorious army had encamped on the banks of the -river, when Philip Augustus retired to his own tent; and, after having -been disarmed by his attendants, commanded that they should leave -him alone for an hour. No one was permitted to approach; and the -monarch sat down to meditate over the vast and mighty deed he had -accomplished.</p> - -<p class="normal">Oh, what a whirlpool of contending feelings must have been within his -bosom at that moment! Policy, triumph, ambition, hate, revenge, and -love, each claimed their place in his heart.</p> - -<p class="normal">The recollection of the difficulties he had overcome; the fresh memory -of the agitating day in which he had overcome them; the glorious -prospects yet to come--the past, the present, and the future, raised -their voices together, and, with a sound like thunder, called to him, -"Rejoice!"</p> - -<p class="normal">But Philip Augustus sat with his hands clasped over his eyes, in deep -and even melancholy thought. A feeling of his mortality mingled, he -knew not why or how, even with the exultation of his victory. To his -mind's eye, a shadow, as if from the tomb, was cast over the banner of -his triumph. A feeling of man's transitory littleness,--a yearning -after some more substantial glory, chastened the pride of the -conqueror; and, bending the knee before Heaven's throne, he prayed -fervently to the Giver of all victory.</p> - -<p class="normal">After long, deep thought, he recalled his attendants; received several -messengers that had come on from Lille; and, ordering the hangings of -his tent to be drawn up, he commanded the various chieftains who had -distinguished themselves in that day's conflict to be called around -him.</p> - -<p class="normal">It was a beautiful summer evening; and the rays of the declining sun -shone over the field of battle, into the tent of the victor, as he sat -surrounded by all the pomp of royalty, receiving the greatest and -noblest of his land. For each he had some gratulatory word, some -mention of their deeds, some praise of their exertions; and there was -a tempered moderation in his smile, a calm, grave dignity of aspect, -that relieved his greater barons from the fears which even they, who -had aided to win it, could not help feeling, respecting the height to -which such a victory might carry his ambition. There was not a touch -of pride in his deportment--no, not even of the humility with which -pride is sometimes fond to deck itself. It was evident that he knew he -had won a great battle, and rejoiced--that he had vanquished his -enemies--that he had conquered a confederated world;--but yet he never -felt himself more mortal, or less fancied himself kindred to a god. He -had triumphed in anticipation--the arrogance of victory had exhausted -itself in expectation; and he found it not so great a thing to have -overcome an universe as he had expected.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Thanks, brave Burgundy! thanks!" cried he, grasping the hand of the -duke, as he approached him. "We have won a great triumph; and Burgundy -has fully done his part. By my faith! Lord Bishop of Beauvais, thy -mace is as good a weapon as thy crosier. I trust thou mayest often -find texts in Scripture to justify thy so smiting the king's enemies."</p> - -<p class="normal">"I spill no blood, sire," replied the warlike bishop: "to knock on the -head, is not to spill blood, let it be remarked."</p> - -<p class="normal">"We have, at all events, with thine aid, my Lord of Beauvais," said -the king, smiling at the prelate's nice distinction,--"we have, at all -events, knocked on the head a great and foul confederation against our -peace and liberties.--Ha! my young Lord of Champagne! Valiantly hast -thou won thy knighthood.--Guillaume des Barres, thou art a better -knight than any of the round table; and to mend thy cellarage, I give -thee five hundred acres in my valley of Soissons. And Pierre de Dreux, -too, art thou, for once in thy life, satisfied with hard blows? De -Coucy, my noble De Coucy! to whom I did some wrong before the battle. -As thou hast said thyself, De Coucy, God send me ever such traitors as -thou art! However, I have news for thee, will make thee amends for one -hard word. Welcome, St. Valery!--as welcome as when you came to my -succour this fair morning. Now, lords, we will see the prisoners--not -to triumph over them, but that they may know their fate."</p> - -<p class="normal">According to the king's commands, the several prisoners of high rank, -who had been taken that morning, were now brought before him; a part -of the ceremony to which even his own barons looked with some doubt -and anxiety, as well as the captives themselves; for, amongst those -who had fought on the other side, were many who were not only traitors -to the king, inasmuch as violating their oath of homage rendered them -so--but traitors under circumstances of high aggravation, after -repeated pardon and many a personal favour; yet who were also linked, -by the nearest ties of kindred, to those in whose presence they now -stood as prisoners. The first that appeared was the Earl of Salisbury, -who, in the fear caused by the number of prisoners, had been bound -with strong cords, and was still in that condition when brought before -the king.</p> - -<p class="normal">"I am sorry to see you here, William of Salisbury," said Philip -frankly. "But why those cords upon your hands? Who has dared, so -unworthily, to bind a noble knight? Off with them! quick! Will you not -yield yourself a true prisoner?</p> - -<p class="normal">"With all my heart, sir king," replied the earl, "since I may no -better. The knaves tied me, I fancy, lest the prisoners should eat up -their conquerors. But, by my faith! had the cowardly scum who have run -from the field, but fought like even your gownsmen, we should have won -few prisoners, but some glory."</p> - -<p class="normal">"For form's sake, we must have some one to be hostage for your faith," -said the king, "and then good knight, you shall have as much liberty -as a prisoner may.--Who will be William of Salisbury's surety?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"That will I," said De Coucy, stepping forward. "In life and lands, -though I have but little of the last."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Thank thee, old friend," said the earl, grasping his hand. "We fought -in different parts of the field, or we would have tried some of our -old blows; but 'tis well as it is, though 'twas a bishop, they tell -me, knocked me on the head. I saw him not, in faith, or I would have -split his mitre for his pains."</p> - -<p class="normal">Prisoner after prisoner was now brought before the king, to most of -whom he spoke in a tone to allay their fears. On Ferrand of Flanders, -however, he bent his brows, strongly moved with indignation, when he -remembered the presumptuous vaunting of that vain light prince, who -had boasted that, within a month, he would ride triumphant into Paris.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Now, rebellious vassal," said the monarch with severe dignity of -aspect, "what fate does thy treason deserve? Snake, thou hast stung us -for fostering thee in our bosom, and the pleasures of Paris, shown to -thee in the hospitality of our court, have made thee covet the -heritage of thy lord. As thou hast boasted, so shall it befall thee; -and thou shalt ride in triumph into our capital; but, by heaven's -queen! it shall not be to sport with jugglers and courtesans!"</p> - -<p class="normal">Ferrand turned deadly pale, in his already excited fears, -misconstruing the king's words. "I hope, my lord," said he, "that you -will think well before you strike at my life. Remember, I am but your -vassal for these lands of Flanders, in right of my wife--that I am the -son of an independent monarch, and my life may not----"</p> - -<p class="normal">"Thy life!" cried Philip, his lip curling with scorn,--"Fear not for -thy pitiful life! Get thee gone! I butcher not my prisoners; but, by -the Lord! I will take good care that ye rebel not again! Now, Renault -of Boulogne," he continued, turning to the gigantic count of Boulogne, -who, of all the confederates, had fought the longest and most -desperately, entertaining no hope of life if taken, both from being -one of the chief instigators of the confederacy, and from many an old -score of rebellion not yet wiped off between himself and the king. He -appeared before the monarch, however, with a frank smile upon his -jovial countenance, as if prepared to endure with good humour the -worst that could befall; and seeing that, as a kind of trophy, one of -the pages bore in his enormous casque, on the crest of which he had -worn two of the broad blades of whalebone, near six feet high, he -turned laughing to those around, while the king spoke to Ferrand of -Flanders--"Good faith," said he, "I thought myself a leviathan, but -they have managed to catch me notwithstanding."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Now, Renault of Boulogne," said the king sternly--"how often have I -pardoned thee--canst thou tell?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"Faith, my lord!" replied the count, "I never was good at reckoning; -but this I do know, that you have granted me my life oftener than I -either deserved or expected, though I cannot calculate justly how -often."</p> - -<p class="normal">"When you do calculate, then," said Philip, "add another time to the -list; but, remember, by the bones of all the saints! it is the last!"</p> - -<p class="normal">"Faith! my lord, you shall not break their bones for me," replied the -count. "For I have made a resolution to be your good vassal for the -future; and, as my good friend Count Julian of the Mount says, my -resolutions are as immoveable as the centre."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Ha, Count Julian!" said the king. "You are welcome, fair count; and, -by Heaven, we have a mind to deal hardly with you. You have been a -comer and goer, sir, in all these errands. You have been one of the -chief stirrers-up of my vassals against me; and by the Lord! if block -and axe were ever well won, you have worked for them. However, here -stands sir Guy de Coucy, true knight, and the king's friend; give him -the hand of your daughter, his lady-love, and you save your head upon -your shoulders."</p> - -<p class="normal">"My lord, it cannot be," replied old sir Julian stoutly. "I have -already given the knight his answer. What I have said, is said--my -resolutions are as immoveable as the centre, and I'd sooner encounter -the axe than break them."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Then, by Heaven! the axe shall be your doom!" cried Philip, giving -way to one of his quick bursts of passion, at the bold and obstinate -tone in which his rebellious vassal dared to address him. "Away with -him to the block! and know, old mover of rebellions, that your lands -and lordships, and your daughter's hand, I, as your sovereign lord, -will give to this brave knight, after you have suffered the punishment -of your treason and your obstinacy."</p> - -<p class="normal">Sir Julian's cheek turned somewhat pale, and his eye twinkled; but he -merely bit his lip; and, firm in his impenetrable obstinacy, offered -no word to turn aside the monarch's wrath. De Coucy, however, stepped -forward, and prayed the king, as sir Julian had been taken by his own -men, to give him over to him, when he doubted not he would be able to -bring him to reason.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Take him then, De Coucy," said Philip; "I give you power to make what -terms with him you like; but before he quits this presence, he -consents to his daughter's marriage with you, or he quits it for the -block. Let us hear how you will convert him."</p> - -<p class="normal">"What I have said, is said!" muttered sir Julian,--"my resolutions are -as immoveable as the centre!"</p> - -<p class="normal">"Sir Julian," said De Coucy, standing forward before the circle, while -the prisoner made up his face to a look of sturdy obstinacy, that -would have done honour to an old, well-seasoned mule, "you told me -once, that I might claim your daughter's hand, if ever--Guillaume de -la Roche Guyon, to whom you had promised her, being dead--you should -be fairly my prisoner, and I could measure acre for acre with your -land. Now, I have to tell you, that William de la Roche fell on -yonder plain, pierced from the back to the front by one of the lances -of Tankerville, as he was flying from the field. You are, by the -king's bounty and my good fortune, my true and lawful prisoner; and -surely the power of saving your life, and giving you freedom, may be -reckoned against wealth and land."</p> - -<p class="normal">"No, no!" said sir Julian. "What I have said----"</p> - -<p class="normal">But he was interrupted by the king, who had recovered from the first -heat into which sir Julian's obstinacy had cast him, and was now -rather amused than otherwise with the scene before him. "Hold, count -Julian!" cried he, "Do not make any objection yet. The only difficulty -is about the lands, it seems--that we will soon remove."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Oh, that alters the case," cried count Julian, not sorry in his heart -to be relieved from the painful necessity of maintaining his -resolution at the risk of his life. "If you, sire, in your bounty, -choose to make him my equal in wealth--William de la Roche Guyon -being dead, and I being his prisoner,--all the conditions will be -fulfilled, and he shall have my daughter. What I have said is as firm -as fate."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Well then," replied the king, glancing his eye towards the barons, -who stood round, smiling at the old knight's mania, "we will not only -make De Coucy your equal in wealth, sir Julian, but far your superior. -A court of peers, lords!--a court of peers! Let my peers stand -around."</p> - -<p class="normal">Such of the spectators as were by right peers of France, advanced a -step from the other persons of the circle, and the king proceeded.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Count Julian of the Mount!" said he in a stern voice, "We, Philip -the Second, king of France, with the aid and counsel of our peers, do -pronounce you guilty of <i>leze majesté</i>; and do declare all your feofs, -lands, and lordships, wealth, furniture, and jewels, forfeited and -confiscate to the Crown of France, to use and dispose thereof, as -shall be deemed expedient!"</p> - -<p class="normal">"A judgment! a judgment!" cried the peers while the countenance of -poor Count Julian fell a thousand degrees. "Now, sir," continued the -king, "without a foot of land in Europe, and without a besant to bless -yourself,--William de la Roche Guyon being dead, and you that good -knight's prisoner,--we call upon you to fulfil your word to him, and -consent to his marriage with your daughter, Isadore, on pain of being -held false and mansworn, as well as stubborn and mulish."</p> - -<p class="normal">"What I have said is said!" replied count Julian, putting forth his -wonted proposition in a very crest-fallen tone. "My resolutions are -always as firm as the centre.--De Coucy, I promised her to you, under -such circumstances. They are fulfilled, and she is your's--though it -is hard that I must marry my daughter to a beggar.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Beggar, sir!" cried the king, his brow darkening again; "let me tell -you, that though rich enough in worth and valour alone to match the -daughter of a prince, sir Guy de Coucy, as he stands there, possesses -double in lands and lordships what you have ever possessed. De Coucy, -it is true: the lands and lordships of Tankerville, and all those fair -domains upon the banks of the broad Rhone, possessed by the Count of -Tankerville, who wedded your father's sister, are now yours, by a -charter in our royal treasury, made under his hand, some ten years -ago, and warranted by our consent. We have ourself, pressed by the -necessities of the state, taken for the last year the revenue of those -lands, purposing to make restitution--to you, if it should appear that -the count was really dead--to him, if he returned from Palestine, -whither he was said to have gone. But we find ourself justified by an -unexpected event. We acted in this by the counsel of the wise and -excellent hermit of Vincennes, now a saint in God's paradise: and we -have just learned, that the count de Tankerville himself it was who -died ten days ago in the person of that same Bernard, the anchorite of -Vincennes. He had lived there in that holy disguise for many years; -and it was so long since we had seen him, the change in his person, by -fasts and macerations, was so great, and his appearance as a hermit -altogether so different from what it was as the splendid Count of -Tankerville, that, though not liable to forget the faces we have seen, -in his case we were totally deceived. On his death-bed he wrote to us -this letter, full of pious instruction and good counsel. At the same -time, he makes us the unnecessary prayer of loving and protecting you. -You, therefore, wed the proud old man's daughter, far his superior in -every gift of fortune; and, as some punishment to his vanity and -stubbornness, we endow you and your heirs with all those feofs that he -has justly forfeited, leaving you to make what provision for his age -you yourself may think fit."</p> - -<p class="normal">Count Julian hung his head; but here let it be said, that he had never -any cause to regret that the king had cast his fortunes into such a -hand; for De Coucy was one of those whose hearts, nobly formed, expand -rather than contract under the sunshine of fortune.</p> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<h3>CHAPTER XV.</h3> -<br> - -<p class="continue">Six days had elapsed after the scenes we have described in our two -last chapters, and Philip Augustus had taken all measures to secure -the fruits of his victory, when, at the head of a gay party of knights -and attendants, no longer burdened with warlike armour, but garmented -in the light and easy robes of peace, the conquering monarch spurred -along the banks of the Oise, anxious to make Agnes a sharer of his -joy, and to tell her that, though the crafty policy of Rome still -prolonged the question of his divorce, he was now armed with power to -dictate what terms he pleased, and to bring her enemies to her feet.</p> - -<p class="normal">The six months had now more than expired, during which he had -consented not to see her; and that absence had given to his love all -that magic light with which memory invests past happiness. The -brightest delight, too, of hope was added to his feelings,--the hope -of seeing joy reblossom on the cheek of her he loved, and the -inspiration of the noblest purpose that can wing human endeavour -carried him on,--the purpose of raising, and comforting, and bestowing -happiness.</p> - -<p class="normal">It may easily be believed, then, that the monarch was in one of his -gayest and most gladsome moods; and to De Coucy, who rode by his side, -full of as high hopes and glad anticipations as himself, he ever and -anon poured forth some of the bright feelings that were swelling in -his bosom.</p> - -<p class="normal">The young knight, too, hurrying on towards the castle of Rolleboise, -where Isadore, now his own, won by knightly deeds and honourable -effort, still remained, uncertain of her fate--gave way at once more -to the natural liveliness of his disposition; and, living in an age -when Ceremony had not drawn her rigid barrier between the monarch and -his vassal, suffered the high spirits, which for many months had been, -as it were, chained down by circumstance, to shine out in many a quick -sally and cheerful reply.</p> - -<p class="normal">The death of his companion in arms, the unhappy Count d'Auvergne, -would indeed throw an occasional shade over De Coucy's mind. But the -regrets which we in the present age experience for the loss of a -friend in such a manner--and which De Coucy was formed to feel as -keenly as any one--in that age met with many alleviations. He had died -knightly in his harness, defending his monarch; he had fallen upon a -whole pile of enemies his hand had slain; he had wrought high deeds, -and won immortal renown. In the eyes of De Coucy, such a death was to -be envied; and thus, though, when he thought of never beholding his -friend again, he felt a touch of natural grief for his own sake; yet, -as he remembered the manner of his fate, he felt proud that his friend -had so finished his career.</p> - -<p class="normal">It was a bright July morning, and would have been extremely hot, had -not an occasional cloud skimmed over the sky, and cast a cool though -fleeting shadow upon the earth. One of these had just passed, and had -let fall a few large drops of rain upon them in its course, the glossy -stains of which on his black charger's neck Philip was examining with -the sweet idleness of happiness, when De Coucy called his attention to -a pigeon flying overhead.</p> - -<p class="normal">"A carrier pigeon, as I live! my lord!" said the knight. "I have seen -them often in Palestine. Look! there is its roll of paper!"</p> - -<p class="normal">"Has any one a falcon?" cried the king, apparently more agitated than -De Coucy expected to see, on so simple an event. "I would give a -thousand besants for a falcon!"</p> - -<p class="normal">One of the king's pages, in the train, carried, as was common in those -days even during long journies, a falcon on his wrist; and, hearing -the monarch's exclamation, he, in a moment, unhooded his bird, and -slipped its gesses. Lifting its keen eyes towards the skies, the hawk -spread its wings at once, and towered after the pigeon.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Well flown, good youth!" cried the king. "What is thy name?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"My name is Hubert," replied the boy, somewhat abashed, "My name is -Hubert, beau sire."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Hubert? What, nothing else? Henceforth, then be Hubert de -Fauconpret;" and having sportively given this name to the youth--a -name which descended distinguished to after years, he turned his eyes -towards the falcon, and watched its progress through the sky. "The -bird will miss his stroke, I fear me," said the king, turning towards -De Coucy; and then, seeing some surprise at his anxiety painted on the -young knight's countenance, he added, "That pigeon is from Rolleboise. -I brought the breed from Ascalon. Agnes would not have loosed it -without some weighty cause."</p> - -<p class="normal">As he spoke, the falcon towered above the pigeon, struck it, and at a -whistle brought it, trembling and half dead with fear, to the page, -who instantly delivered it from the clutches of its winged enemy, and -gave it into the hands of the king. Philip took the scrap of paper -from the poor bird's neck, caressed it for a moment, and then again -threw it up into the air. At first, it seemed as if it would have -fallen, from the fear which it had undergone, though the well-trained -falcon had not injured it in the least. After a few faint whirls, -however, it gained strength again, rose in a perpendicular line into -the sky, took two or three circles in the air, and then darted off at -once directly towards Paris.</p> - -<p class="normal">In the meanwhile, Philip Augustus gazed upon the paper he had thus -received; and, whatever were the contents, they took the colour from -his cheek. Without a word, he struck his horse violently with his -spurs, urged him into a gallop, and, followed by his train as best -they might, drew not in his rein till he stood before the barbican of -the castle of Rolleboise.</p> - -<p class="normal">Pale cheeks and anxious eyes encountered his glance, as he dashed over -the drawbridge the moment it was lowered. "The queen?" cried he, "the -queen? How fares the queen?" But, without waiting for a reply, he -sprang to the ground in the court, rushed past the crowd of -attendants, through the hall, up the staircase, and paused not, till -he reached the door of that chamber which he and Agnes had inhabited -during the first months of their union; and in which, from its happy -memories, he knew she would be fond to dwell. There, however, he -stopped, the beating of his heart seeming almost to menace him with -destruction if he took a step farther.</p> - -<p class="normal">There was a murmur of voices within; and, after an instant's pause, he -opened the door, and gliding past the tapestry, stood at the end of -the room.</p> - -<p class="normal">The chamber was dim, for the night was near; but at the farther -extremity was the faint light of a taper contending with the pale -remains of day. He could see, however, that his marriage-bed was -arrayed like the couch of the dying, that there were priests standing -round in silence, and women in tears; while one lovely girl, whose -face he knew not, knelt by the bed-side, and supported on her arm the -pale and ashy countenance of another, over which the grey shadow of -death seemed advancing fast.</p> - -<p class="normal">Philip started forward. Could that be Agnes--that pale, blighted -thing, over whose dim and glassy eyes a strange unlife-like film -was drawn, the precursor of the shroud? Could that be Agnes--the -bright--the beautiful--the beloved?</p> - -<p class="normal">A faint exclamation, which broke from the attendants as they beheld -him, reached even the heavy ear of the dying. The film was drawn back -from her eyes for a moment; life blazed up once more, and concentrated -all its parting light in the full, glad, ecstatic gaze which she fixed -upon the countenance of him she loved. A smile of welcome and farewell -hung upon her lip; and, with a last effort, she stretched forth her -arms towards him. With bitter tears, Philip clasped her to his bosom. -Agnes bent down her . . . head upon his neck and died!</p> - -<p class="normal">Oh, glory! oh, victory! oh, power! Ye shining emptinesses! Ye bubbles -on the stream of time!</p> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<h3>FOOTNOTES</h3> - -<p class="hang1"><a name="div4_01" href="#div4Ref_01">Footnote 1</a>: Generally and rationally supposed to have been derived -from the country which poured forth the first numerous bands of these -adventurers; i.e. Brabant. See Ducange, La Chenaye du Bois, &c. Philip -Augustus in the end destroyed them for a time.</p> - -<p class="hang1"><a name="div4_02" href="#div4Ref_02">Footnote 2</a>: The great companies of the fourteenth century had their -type in the Brabançois, and various other bodies of freebooters, which -appeared previous to that period. The chief characteristic of all of -these bands was, the having degenerated from soldiers to plunderers, -while they maintained a certain degree of discipline and -subordination, but cast off every other tie.</p> - -<p class="hang1"><a name="div4_03" href="#div4Ref_03">Footnote 3</a>: M. Charles Nodier.</p> - -<p class="hang1"><a name="div4_04" href="#div4Ref_04">Footnote 4</a>: To ride a mare was reckoned in those days unworthy of -anyone but a juggler, a charlatan, or a serf.</p> - -<p class="normal"><p class="hang1"><a name="div4_05" href="#div4Ref_05">Footnote 5</a>: Although this act of rashness certainly breathes the -spirit of romance, yet such things have been done, and even in our own -day.</p> - -<p class="hang1"><a name="div4_06" href="#div4Ref_06">Footnote 6</a>: This is no fantastic remedy, but one of the most -effectual the author of this work has ever seen employed. The skin of -a sheep, however, is not a whit less potent in its effects than the -skin of an izzard.</p> - -<p class="hang1"><a name="div4_07" href="#div4Ref_07">Footnote 7</a>: Philip Augustus, after the death of his first wife, being -still a very young man, married Ingerburge, sister of Canute, King of -Denmark; but on her arrival in France, he was seized with so strong a -personal dislike to her, that he instantly convoked a synod of the -clergy of France, who, on pretence of kindred in the prohibited -degrees, annulled the marriage. Philip afterwards married the -beautiful Agnes, or Mary, as she is called by some, daughter of the -Duke of Istria and Meranie, a district it would now be difficult to -define, but which comprehended the Tyrol and its dependencies, down to -the Adriatic.--See Rigord Gud. Brit. Lit. Innoc. III. Cart Philip II. -&c.</p> - -<p class="hang1"><a name="div4_08" href="#div4Ref_08">Footnote 8</a>: One of the four methods of electing a Pope is called by -<i>adoration</i>, which takes place when the first Cardinal who speaks -instantly (as is supposed by the movement of the Holy Ghost) does -reverence to the person he names, proclaiming him Pope, to which must -be added the instant suffrage of two-thirds of the assembled -conclave.</p> - -<p class="hang1"><a name="div4_09" href="#div4Ref_09">Footnote 9</a>: For a fuller account of this singular person, and the -effect his counsels had upon the conduct of Philip Augustus, see -Rigord.</p> - -<p class="hang1"><a name="div4_10" href="#div4Ref_10">Footnote 10</a>: Later instances exist of wax having been used in the -accounts of the royal treasury of France.</p> - -<p class="hang1"><a name="div4_11" href="#div4Ref_11">Footnote 11</a>: The Chronicle of Alberic des Trois Fontaines gives some -curious particulars concerning this personage, and offers a singular -picture of the times.</p> - -<p class="hang1"><a name="div4_12" href="#div4Ref_12">Footnote 12</a>: The difference between the chaperon, or hood, and the -aumuce was, that the first was formed of cloth or silk, and the latter -of fur.--<i>Dic. des Franc</i>.</p> - -<p class="hang1"><a name="div4_13" href="#div4Ref_13">Footnote 13</a>: The name of Augustus was given to Philip the Second, -even in the earlier part of his lifetime, although Mézerai mistakingly -attributes it to many centuries afterwards. Rigord, the historian and -physician, who died in the twenty-eighth year of Philip's reign, and -the forty-second of his age, styles him Augustus, in the very title of -his manuscript.</p> - -<p class="hang1"><a name="div4_14" href="#div4Ref_14">Footnote 14</a>: It will be understood that this sudden appearance of the -legate is a historical fact.</p> - -<p class="hang1"><a name="div4_15" href="#div4Ref_15">Footnote 15</a>: Ducange cites the following formula from a work I cannot -meet with. The passage refers to a fraternity of arms between Majon, -high admiral of Sicily, and the archbishop of Palermo.</p> -<br> -<p class="hang2">"Dictum est præterea quod ii, juxta consuetudinem Siculorum, fraternæ -fœdus societatis contraxerint, seseque invicem jurejurando -astrinxerunt ut alter alterum modis omnibus promoveret, et tam in -prosperis quàm in adversis unius essent animi, unius voluntatis atque -consilii; quisquis alterum læderet, amborura incurreret offensam."</p> -<br> -<p class="hang2">The same learned author cites a declaration of Louis XI. where he -constitutes Charles, Duke of Burgundy, his sole brother in arms, -thereby seeming to imply that this adoption of a brother in arms was -restricted to one.--<i>Ducange</i>, Dissert. xxi.</p> -<br> -<p class="hang1"><a name="div4_16" href="#div4Ref_16">Footnote 16</a>: This singular picture of the barbarism of the age -immediately preceding that of Philip Augustus is rendered as literally -as possible from the Life of Louis le Gros by Suger, Abbot of St. -Denis.</p> - -<p class="hang1"><a name="div4_17" href="#div4Ref_17">Footnote 17</a>: This part of the dress was a small pouch borne under the -arm, and called escarcelle, or pera, when carried by pilgrims to the -Holy Land. With the utmost reverence for the learning, talent, and -patience of Ducange, it appears to me that he was mistaken in his -interpretation of a passage of Cassian, relative to this part of the -pilgrim's dress. The sentence in Cassian is as follows: "Ultimus est -habitus eorum pellis caprina, quæ melotes, vel pera appellatur, et -baculus;" which Ducange affirms to mean, that they wore a dress of -goat-skins, a wallet, and a stick. Embarrassed by taking <i>habitus</i> in -the limited sense of a garment, I should rather be inclined to think -that the author merely meant that the last part of their (the monks') -dress was what is called a pera, made of goat-skins, and a stick, and -not three distinct articles, as Ducange imagines.--See <i>Ducange</i>, -Dissert. xv.</p> - -<p class="hang1"><a name="div4_18" href="#div4Ref_18">Footnote 18</a>: Guillaume le Breton says unqualifiedly, that Richard -Cœur de Lion invented the <i>arbalète</i>, or cross-bow. Brompton, on -the other hand, only declares that he revived the use of it, "hoc -genus sagittandi in usum revocavit."</p> - -<p class="hang1"><a name="div4_19" href="#div4Ref_19">Footnote 19</a>: This must not be looked upon as an expression hazarded -without authority, notwithstanding its homeliness. The only titles of -honour known in those days were <i>Monseigneur</i>, <i>My Lord</i>; <i>Illustres -Seigneurs</i>, applied in general to an assembly of nobles; and <i>Beau -Sire</i>, or Fair Sir, which was not only bestowed upon kings, on all -occasions, but, even as lately as the reign of St. Louis, was -addressed to God himself. Many prayers beginning <i>Beau Sire Dieu</i> are -still extant.</p> - -<p class="hang1"><a name="div4_20" href="#div4Ref_20">Footnote 20</a>: Eleanor Plantagenet, who was detained till her death, to -cut off all change of subsequent heirs in the line of Geoffrey -Plantagenet, John's elder brother.</p> - -<p class="hang1"><a name="div4_21" href="#div4Ref_21">Footnote 21</a>: I know not precisely how far back a curious antiquary -might trace the existence of such places of public reception. I find -one mentioned, however, in the Chronicle of Vezelai, about fifty years -prior to the period of which I write.</p> - -<p class="hang1"><a name="div4_22" href="#div4Ref_22">Footnote 22</a>: There are various differences of opinion concerning the -persons to whom the use of the haubert was confined. Ducange implies, -from a passage in Joinville, that this part of the ancient suits of -armour was the privilege of a knight. Le Laboureur gives it also to a -squire. But the Brabançois and other bands of adventurers did not -subject themselves to any rules and regulations respecting their arms, -as might be proved from a thousand different instances.</p> - -<p class="hang1"><a name="div4_23" href="#div4Ref_23">Footnote 23</a>: This conversation is reported by the chroniclers of the -time to have taken place previous to Arthur's confinement in the tower -of Rouen.</p> - -<p class="hang1"><a name="div4_24" href="#div4Ref_24">Footnote 24</a>: The French writers of that day almost universally agree -in attributing the death of Arthur to John's own hand. The English -writers do not positively deny it, and we have indubitable proof that -such was the general rumour through all the towns and castles of -Europe at the time.--See Guill. Guiart. Guill. de Nangis. Guill. le -Breton. Mat. Paris, &c.</p> - -<p class="hang1"><a name="div4_25" href="#div4Ref_25">Footnote 25</a>: It has been asserted that these troops received no pay, -but supported themselves by plunder. I find them, however, called -mercenaries in more than one instance, which clearly implies that they -fought for hire.</p> - -<p class="hang1"><a name="div4_26" href="#div4Ref_26">Footnote 26</a>: Constable of Normandy in the year 1200, and following, -as appears from a treaty between John and Philip, concluded at -Gueuleton.</p> - -<p class="hang1"><a name="div4_27" href="#div4Ref_27">Footnote 27</a>: Seldon has said that the custom of bearing coronets by -peers is of late days. In this assertion, however, he is apparently -mistaken, the proofs of which may be seen at large in Ducange, -Dissért, xxiv. R. Hoved. 792. Hist. des Compte de Poitou, &c. The -matter is of little consequence, except so far as the representation -of the manners and customs of the times is affected by it.</p> - -<p class="hang1"><a name="div4_28" href="#div4Ref_28">Footnote 28</a>: The closed crown was not introduced until the reign of -Louis XII. or Francis I.</p> - -<p class="hang1"><a name="div4_29" href="#div4Ref_29">Footnote 29</a>: A different banner from the famous oriflamme which was -the standard of St. Denis.</p> - -<p class="hang1"><a name="div4_30" href="#div4Ref_30">Footnote 30</a>: -Lacurne de St. Palaye was decidedly wrong in attributing -the use of the lance solely to knights. Besides the example before -given, the present instance of the serjeants of Soissons puts the -matter beyond doubt. The words of Guillaume Guiart are--</p> - -<p style="margin-left:8em">"Serjanz d'armes cent et cinquante. -Criant Monjoie! ensemble brochent; -Vers les rens des Flamens deseochent -Les pointes des lances enclines," &c.</p> - -<p class="hang2">That the serjeants of arms of Soissons were simple burghers is evident -from the contempt with which the Flemish knights received them--Guil. -le Breton, in vit. Phil. Aug.</p> - -<p class="hang1"><a name="div4_31" href="#div4Ref_31">Footnote 31</a>: -This circumstance, however extraordinary, is not the -less true; and though attributed by the various chroniclers to various -persons, is mentioned particularly by all who have described the -battle of Bovines.</p> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<h3>THE END.</h3> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<h5>LONDON:<br> -Printed by A. SPOTTISWOODE,<br> -New-Street-Square.</h5> -<br> -<br> -<br> - - - - - - - - - -<pre> - - - - - -End of Project Gutenberg's Philip Augustus, by George Payne Rainsford James - -*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK PHILIP AUGUSTUS *** - -***** This file should be named 50462-h.htm or 50462-h.zip ***** -This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: - http://www.gutenberg.org/5/0/4/6/50462/ - -Produced by Charles Bowen from page images provided by Google Books - -Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions will -be renamed. - -Creating the works from print editions not protected by U.S. copyright -law means that no one owns a United States copyright in these works, -so the Foundation (and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United -States without permission and without paying copyright -royalties. 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