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diff --git a/old/53394-h/53394-h.htm b/old/53394-h/53394-h.htm deleted file mode 100644 index baeff88..0000000 --- a/old/53394-h/53394-h.htm +++ /dev/null @@ -1,13503 +0,0 @@ -<!DOCTYPE html PUBLIC "-//W3C//DTD XHTML 1.0 Strict//EN" - "http://www.w3.org/TR/xhtml1/DTD/xhtml1-strict.dtd"> -<html xmlns="http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml" xml:lang="en" lang="en"> - <head> - <meta http-equiv="Content-Type" content="text/html;charset=utf-8" /> - <meta http-equiv="Content-Style-Type" content="text/css" /> - <title> - The Project Gutenberg eBook of The Fortunes of Garin, by Mary Johnston. - </title> - <link rel="coverpage" href="images/cover.jpg" /> - <style type="text/css"> - -body {margin-left: 10%; margin-right: 10%;} -div.limit {max-width: 35em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;} -div.chapter {page-break-before: always;} -.f1 {font-family:sans-serif, serif;} -.f2 {font: 1em "Old English Text MT", serif;} -.bord {border: solid 2px; margin-left: 10%; margin-right: 10%; margin-bottom: 2em; padding: 1em;} - - h1,h2 {text-align: center; clear: both;} - -p {margin-top: 0.2em; text-align: justify; margin-bottom: 0em; text-indent: 1.5em;} -.pn {margin-top: 0.2em; text-align: justify; margin-bottom: 0em; text-indent: 0em;} -.pa1 {margin-top: 0.2em; margin-bottom: 0em; padding-left: 1em; text-indent: -1em;} -.pn1 {margin-top: 1em; text-align: justify; margin-bottom: 0em; text-indent: 0em;} -.pch {text-align: center; text-indent: 0em; font-size: 115%; margin-top: 1.5em; margin-bottom: 2em;} -.pc {text-align: center; text-indent: 0em;} -.pc1 {margin-top: 1em; text-align: center; text-indent: 0em;} -.pc2 {margin-top: 2em; text-align: center; text-indent: 0em;} -.pc4 {margin-top: 4em; text-align: center; text-indent: 0em;} -.pp6q {margin-top: 0em; font-size: 90%; text-align: left; margin-bottom: 0em; padding-left: 6em; text-indent: -0.45em;} -.pp7 {margin-top: 0em; font-size: 90%; text-align: left; margin-bottom: 0em; padding-left: 7em; text-indent: 0em;} -.ptn {margin-top: 0.3em; text-indent: -1em; margin-left: 2%;} - -.p1 {margin-top: 1em;} -.p2 {margin-top: 2em;} -.p4 {margin-top: 4em;} - -.reduct {font-size: 90%;} -.lmid {font-size: 110%;} -.mid {font-size: 125%;} -.large {font-size: 150%;} -.elarge {font-size: 175%;} -.xlarge {font-size: 250%;} - -hr {width: 33%; margin-top: 2em; margin-bottom: 2em; margin-left: 33.5%; margin-right: 33.5%; clear: both;} -hr.chap {width: 65%; margin-left: 17.5%; margin-right: 17.5%;} -hr.d1 {width: 25%; margin-left: 37.5%; margin-right: 37.5%; margin-top: 0.5em; margin-bottom: 0.52em;} - -table {margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;} - .tdl {text-align: left; vertical-align: top; padding-left: 2em; text-indent: -1.5em;} - .tdr {text-align: right; vertical-align: bottom; padding-left: 2em; text-indent: -2em;} - -#toc {width: 60%; font-size: 90%; line-height: 1em; margin-top: 1em;} - -.pagenum { /* visibility: hidden; */ position: absolute; left: 94%; color: gray; - font-size: smaller; text-align: right; text-indent: 0em; font-style: normal; font-weight: normal;} - -.smcap {font-variant: small-caps;} - -.figcenter {margin: auto; text-align: center; margin-top: 2em; margin-bottom: 2em;} -.caption {font-weight: bold;} - -.transnote {background-color: #E6E6FA; color: black; font-size:smaller; padding:0.5em; margin-bottom:5em; font-family:sans-serif, serif; } - </style> - </head> -<body> - - -<pre> - -The Project Gutenberg EBook of The Fortunes of Garin, by Mary Johnston - -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: The Fortunes of Garin - -Author: Mary Johnston - -Release Date: October 29, 2016 [EBook #53394] - -Language: English - -Character set encoding: UTF-8 - -*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE FORTUNES OF GARIN *** - - - - -Produced by Giovanni Fini, Charlene Taylor and the Online -Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net (This -file was produced from images generously made available -by The Internet Archive) - - - - - - -</pre> - -<div class="limit"> - -<div class="chapter"> -<div class="transnote p4"> -<p class="pc large">TRANSCRIBER’S NOTE:</p> -<p class="ptn">—Obvious print and punctuation errors were corrected.</p> -</div> - -<hr class="chap" /> - -</div> - -<div class="chapter"> - -<div class="figcenter"> - <img src="images/cover.jpg" width="350" height="551" alt="" /> -</div> - -<hr class="chap" /> - -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_i" id="Page_i">[i]</a></span></p> - -<div class="chapter"> - -<div class="bord"> - -<p class="pc large f2">By Mary Johnston</p> - -<hr class="d1" /> - -<p class="pa1"><span class="f1">THE FORTUNES OF GARIN.</span> Illustrated.</p> - -<p class="pa1"><span class="f1">THE WITCH.</span> With frontispiece.</p> - -<p class="pa1"><span class="f1">HAGAR</span>.</p> - -<p class="pa1"><span class="f1">THE LONG ROLL.</span> The first of two books dealing -with the war between the States. With Illustrations -in color by <span class="smcap">N. C. Wyeth</span>.</p> - -<p class="pa1"><span class="f1">CEASE FIRING.</span> The second of two books dealing -with the war between the States. With Illustrations -in color by <span class="smcap">N. C. Wyeth</span>.</p> - -<p class="pa1"><span class="f1">LEWIS RAND.</span> With Illustrations in color by <span class="smcap">F. C. -Yohn</span>.</p> - -<p class="pa1"><span class="f1">AUDREY.</span> With Illustrations in color by <span class="smcap">F. C. Yohn</span>.</p> - -<p class="pa1"><span class="f1">PRISONERS OF HOPE.</span> With Frontispiece.</p> - -<p class="pa1"><span class="f1">TO HAVE AND TO HOLD.</span> With 8 Illustrations by -<span class="smcap">Howard Pyle</span>, <span class="smcap">E. B. Thompson</span>, <span class="smcap">A. W. Betts</span>, and -<span class="smcap">Emlen McConnell</span>.</p> - -<hr class="d1" /> - -<p class="pa1"><span class="f1">THE GODDESS OF REASON.</span> <i>A Drama.</i></p> - - -<p class="pc1">HOUGHTON MIFFLIN COMPANY<br /> -<span class="smcap">Boston and New York</span></p> - -</div></div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_ii" id="Page_ii">[ii]</a></span></p> - -<div class="chapter"> - -<p class="pc4 elarge">THE FORTUNES OF GARIN</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_iii" id="Page_iii">[iii]</a></span></p> - -<div class="figcenter"> - <img src="images/fr.jpg" width="400" height="598" - alt="" - title="" /> - <div class="caption"><p class="pc">THE MEETING BY ST. MARTHA’S WELL</p> -</div></div> - -<hr class="chap" /> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_iv" id="Page_iv">[iv]</a></span></p> - -<h1 class="p4">THE FORTUNES OF GARIN</h1> - - -<p class="pc4">BY<br /><span class="large">MARY JOHNSTON</span></p> - -<div class="figcenter"> - <img src="images/logo.jpg" width="200" height="301" - alt="" - title="" /> -</div> - -<p class="pc4">BOSTON AND NEW YORK<br /> -<span class="mid">HOUGHTON MIFFLIN COMPANY</span><br /> -<span class="f2 mid">The Riverside Press Cambridge</span><br /> -1915</p> - -<hr class="chap" /> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_v" id="Page_v">[v]</a></span></p> - - -<p class="pc4 reduct">COPYRIGHT, 1915, BY MARY JOHNSTON</p> -<p class="pc2 reduct">ALL RIGHTS RESERVED</p> -<p class="pc2 reduct"><i>Published October 1915</i></p> - -<p class="pc4 reduct"><span class="f2 lmid">The Riverside Press</span><br /> -CAMBRIDGE . MASSACHUSETTS<br /> -U . S . A</p> - -<hr class="chap" /> - -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_vi" id="Page_vi">[vi]</a></span></p> - -<div class="chapter"> - -<h2 class="p4">CONTENTS</h2> - -<table id="toc" summary="cont"> - - <tr> - <td class="tdr">I.</td> - <td class="tdl"><span class="smcap">Roche-de-Frêne</span></td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#c1">1</a></td> - </tr> - - <tr> - <td class="tdr">II.</td> - <td class="tdl"><span class="smcap">The Jongleur and the Herd-Girl</span></td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#c13">13</a></td> - </tr> - - <tr> - <td class="tdr">III.</td> - <td class="tdl"><span class="smcap">The Nightingale</span></td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#c31">31</a></td> - </tr> - - <tr> - <td class="tdr">IV.</td> - <td class="tdl"><span class="smcap">The Abbot</span></td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#c47">47</a></td> - </tr> - - <tr> - <td class="tdr">V.</td> - <td class="tdl"><span class="smcap">Raimbaut the Six-fingered</span></td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#c61">61</a></td> - </tr> - - <tr> - <td class="tdr">VI.</td> - <td class="tdl"><span class="smcap">The Garden</span></td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#c73">73</a></td> - </tr> - - <tr> - <td class="tdr">VII.</td> - <td class="tdl"><span class="smcap">The Ugly Princess</span></td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#c85">85</a></td> - </tr> - - <tr> - <td class="tdr">VIII.</td> - <td class="tdl"><span class="smcap">Tournament</span></td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#c99">99</a></td> - </tr> - - <tr> - <td class="tdr">IX.</td> - <td class="tdl"><span class="smcap">Garin seeks his Fortune</span></td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#c115">115</a></td> - </tr> - - <tr> - <td class="tdr">X.</td> - <td class="tdl"><span class="smcap">Garin takes the Cross</span></td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#c127">127</a></td> - </tr> - - <tr> - <td class="tdr">XI.</td> - <td class="tdl"><span class="smcap">Thibaut Canteleu</span></td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#c144">144</a></td> - </tr> - - <tr> - <td class="tdr">XII.</td> - <td class="tdl"><span class="smcap">Montmaure</span></td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#c159">159</a></td> - </tr> - - <tr> - <td class="tdr">XIII.</td> - <td class="tdl"><span class="smcap">The Venetian</span></td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#c174">174</a></td> - </tr> - - <tr> - <td class="tdr">XIV.</td> - <td class="tdl"><span class="smcap">Our Lady in Egypt</span></td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#c189">189</a></td> - </tr> - - <tr> - <td class="tdr">XV.</td> - <td class="tdl"><span class="smcap">Saint Martha’s Well</span></td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#c204">204</a></td> - </tr> - - <tr> - <td class="tdr">XVI.</td> - <td class="tdl"><span class="smcap">Garin and Jaufre</span></td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#c219">219</a></td> - </tr> - - <tr> - <td class="tdr">XVII.</td> - <td class="tdl"><span class="smcap">Our Lady of Roche-de-Frêne</span></td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#c231">231</a></td> - </tr> - - <tr> - <td class="tdr">XVIII.</td> - <td class="tdl"><span class="smcap">Count Jaufre</span></td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#c246">246</a></td> - </tr> - - <tr> - <td class="tdr">XIX.</td> - <td class="tdl"><span class="smcap">The Siege</span></td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#c261">261</a></td> - </tr> - - <tr> - <td class="tdr">XX.</td> - <td class="tdl"><span class="smcap">The White Tower</span></td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#c272">272</a></td> - </tr> - - <tr> - <td class="tdr">XXI.</td> - <td class="tdl"><span class="smcap">The Rock-Gate</span></td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#c282">282</a></td> - </tr> - - <tr> - <td class="tdr">XXII.</td> - <td class="tdl"><span class="smcap">The Saffron Cross</span></td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#c295">295</a></td> - </tr> - - <tr> - <td class="tdr">XXIII.</td> - <td class="tdl"><span class="smcap">Cap-du-Loup</span></td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#c309">309</a></td> - </tr> - - <tr> - <td class="tdr">XXIV.</td> - <td class="tdl"><span class="smcap">The Abbey of the Fountain</span></td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#c319">319</a></td> - </tr> - - <tr> - <td class="tdr">XXV.</td> - <td class="tdl"><span class="smcap">Richard Lion-Heart</span></td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#c335">335</a></td> - </tr> - - <tr> - <td class="tdr">XXVI.</td> - <td class="tdl"><span class="smcap">The Fair Goal</span></td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#c346">346</a></td> - </tr> - - <tr> - <td class="tdr">XXVII.</td> - <td class="tdl"><span class="smcap">Spring Time</span></td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#c361">361</a></td> - </tr> - -</table> - -<hr class="chap" /> - -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_1" id="Page_1">[1]</a></span></p> - -<div class="chapter"> - -<p class="pc4 xlarge">THE FORTUNES<br />OF GARIN</p> - -<h2 class="p4"><a name="c1" id="c1">CHAPTER I</a></h2> - -<p class="pch">ROCHE-DE-FRÊNE</p> - -<p class="pn"><span class="smcap">Without</span> blazed autumn sunshine, strong as summer -sunshine in northern lands. Within the cathedral -dusk ruled, rich and mysterious. The sanctuary -light burned, a star. The candles were yet smoking, -the incense yet clung, thick and pungent. Vanishing -through the sacristy door went the last flutter of -acolyte or chorister. The throng that worshipped -dwindled to a few lingering shapes. The rest disappeared -by the huge portal, marvellously sculptured. -It had been a great throng, for Bishop Ugo -had preached. Now the cathedral was almost -empty, and more rich, more mysterious because of -that. The saints in their niches could be seen the -better, and the gold dust from the windows came in -unbroken shafts to the pavement. There they -splintered and light lay in fragments. One of these -patches made a strange glory for the head of Boniface -of Beaucaire who was doing penance, stretched -out on the pavement like a cross. Lost in the shadows -of nave, aisles, and chapels were other penitents, -on their knees, muttering prayers. Hugues from<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_2" id="Page_2">[2]</a></span> -up the river lay on his face, half in light, half in -shadow, before the shrine of Saint Martial. Hugues’s -penance had been heavy, for he was a captain of -Free Lances and had beset and robbed a travelling -monk. But in Hugues’s cavern that night the monk -turned preacher and wrought so mightily that he -brought Hugues—who was a simple, emotional -soul—to his knees, and the next day, when they -parted, sent him here for penance. He lay bare to -the waist, and his back was bloody from the scourging -he had received before the church doors.</p> - -<p>The church was a marvel. It had been building -for long, long while, and it was not yet finished. It -was begun by a grateful population, at the instigation -of the then bishop, in the year 1035. All Christendom -had set the year 1000 for the Second -Coming and the Judgement Day, and as the time -approached had waited in deep gloom and with a -palsied will for those august arrivals. When the -year passed, with miseries enough, but with no -rolling back of the firmament like a scroll, it was -concluded that what had been meant was the thousandth -from the Crucifixion. 1033 was now set for -the Final Event, and the neglect of each day, the -torpor and terror of the mind, continued. But 1033 -passed, marked by nothing more dreadful than -famine and common wretchedness. Christendom -woke from that particular trance, sighed with relief, -and began to grow—to grow with vigour and rapidity, -with luxuriance and flourishes.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_3" id="Page_3">[3]</a></span></p> - -<p>In 1035, then, the cathedral had been begun, and -to-morrow morning, here in the last quarter of the -twelfth century, the stone masons would go clinking, -clinking up yonder, atop of the first of the two towers. -No man really knew when it would be finished. -But for a century nave, aisles, choir, and chapels had -been completed. Under the wonderful roof three -generations of the people of Roche-de-Frêne had -bowed themselves when the bell rang and the Host -was elevated. The cathedral had the hallowing of -time. It was an Inheritance as was the Faith that -bred it. The atmosphere of this place was the atmosphere -of emotion, and strong as were the pillars, -they were no stronger than was the Habit which -brought the feet this way and bowed the heads; and -clinging and permeating as was the incense, it was -no more so than the sentiment that stretched yonder -Boniface of Beaucaire and here Hugues the Free -Lance. Boniface of Beaucaire would cheat again and -Hugues the Free Lance rob and slay, but here they -were, no hypocrites, and cleaner in this moment -than they had been.</p> - -<p>There were two pillars, one twisted, one straight, -that had been brought from Palestine by Gaucelm -the Crusader, father of Gaucelm the Fortunate, the -present Prince, and set on either side the shrine of -Our Lady of Roche-de-Frêne. A shaft of light from -the great window struck across the two, broke, and -made the pavement sunny.</p> - -<p>Just here knelt a youth, in a squire’s dress of green<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_4" id="Page_4">[4]</a></span> -and brown. He had no penance to perform. He was -kneeling because he was in a kneeling mood. The -light showed a well-made, supple figure, with powerful -shoulders. The head and throat were good, the -face rather long, with strong features, the colouring -blonde inclining to brown, the eyes grey with blue -glints. They were directed now to the image of the -Virgin, above him in her niche, the other side of the -gold light. She stood, incredibly slender, and taller -than human, rose-cheeked, dressed in azure samite -sewn with gems, with a crown, and in her two hands -a crimson heart pierced by an iron arrow. A lamp -burned before her, and there were flowers around.</p> - -<p>The youth knelt with a fixed gaze, asking for -inspiration.... The Virgin of Roche-de-Frêne -seemed to move, to dilate, to breathe, to smile! The -young man sank his head, stretched forth his arms. -“O Our Lady, smile on me! O Our Lady, give me -to-day a sign!”</p> - -<p>The cathedral grew a place of mystery, of high, -transcendent passion. The lamp appeared to -brighten, the heart in the two hands to glow.</p> - -<p>“Is it a sign that I am to serve Her in Holy -Church?” thought Garin de Castel-Noir, “or, may-hap, -that I am to serve Her with lance and shield? -Is it a sign, or am I mistaken? If it were a sign, -would I ask if I were mistaken?” He sighed. “O -High God, give me a sign!”</p> - -<p>He had to decide no less a thing than his career. -Until a little while ago he had thought that matter<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_5" id="Page_5">[5]</a></span> -settled. He was esquire to a poor lord, a fierce and a -stupid lord, and he had no hope but to remain -esquire for years perhaps to come. But, come soon -or come late, one day his lord would make him -knight. That done, and his saint favouring, he -might somehow achieve honour. Three months ago -his lot had seemed as fixed as that of a fir tree -growing below his lord Raimbaut’s black keep. -Then into the matter had stepped the Abbot of -Saint Pamphilius, that was kinsman of Garin and -of his brother, Foulque the Cripple, who bided at -Castel-Noir.</p> - -<p>With simplicity, the squire explained it to Our -Lady of Roche-de-Frêne: “He is our near kinsman, -and he knows how poor are Foulque and I, and he -knows, too, Lord Raimbaut, and the little we may -expect. And now he says that if I will give up hope -of chivalry and take the tonsure, he will be my good -patron. And if I work well with head and pen and -prove myself able, he will charge himself that I advance -and win great promotion. If I serve him -well, so will he serve me well. O Our Lady,” ended -Garin, “he is a great man as you know, and close -friend to Bishop Ugo. Moreover, he and Foulque -have made application to my lord Raimbaut and -won him to consent. And Foulque urges me toward -Holy Church. But O Blessed Lady,” cried Garin, -and stretched forth his arms, “do I wish to go? I -know not—I know not!”</p> - -<p>The Virgin of Roche-de-Frêne, crowned and dazzling,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_6" id="Page_6">[6]</a></span> -stood in blue samite with her heart and arrow, -but said no word and gave no sign.... Raimbaut -and his knighthood—the Abbot and Holy Church—and -Foulque with his song, “Choose the Abbot! -Work hard and be supple and further the ends of -Holy Church, twining your own ends with that -golden cord. No telling to what height you may rise! -Great wealth and power fall to them who serve her -to her profit and liking. You crave learning. On -which road, I put it to you, will you gather most of -that?” So Foulque. And Bishop Ugo had preached, -this morn, of the glory and power of Holy Church -and of the crowns laid up for them who served her.</p> - -<p>The squire sighed deeply. He must make decision. -The Abbot would not always keep that look of invitation. -He had other young and needy kinsmen. -Worldly considerations enough flitted through -Garin’s head, but they found something there beside -themselves. “In deep truth, which is mine? To -endure until I may ride as knight and find or make -some door in a high, thick wall? To take the tonsure—to -study, work and plan—to become, maybe, -canon, and after long time, larger things?... -Which is mine? This—or that—or either? O -Blessed Lady, I would choose from within!”</p> - -<p>The tall, jewelled Queen of Heaven looked serenely -down upon him. She had ceased to breathe. The -sign seemed not to be coming. He had before him a -long ride, and he must go, with or without the token. -He kept his position yet another minute, then, with<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_7" id="Page_7">[7]</a></span> -a deep sigh, relinquished the quest. Rising, he -stepped backward from the presence of the Virgin of -Roche-de-Frêne, out of the line of the Saracen pillars. -As he went, the climbing shaft of amber light -caught his eye and forthwith Jacob’s ladder came -into his head, and he began to send slim angels up -and down it. He had a potent fancy.</p> - -<p>Leaving the church, he passed Boniface of Beaucaire -and Hugues the Free Lance. His step made a -ringing on the pavement beside their prone heads. -He felt for them no contempt. They were making, -more or less, an honourable amende. Everybody in -their lives had done or would do penance, and after -life came purgatory. He passed them as he might -pass any other quite usual phenomenon, and so -quitted the cathedral.</p> - -<p>Outside was Roche-de-Frêne, grey, close-built, -massed upon the long hill-top, sending spurs of -houses down the hillsides between olive and cypress, -almond and plane and pine—Roche-de-Frêne, so -well-walled, Roche-de-Frêne beat upon, laved, -drowned by the southern sun.</p> - -<p>Crown of its wide-browed craggy hill rose another -hill; crown of this, a grey dream in the fiery day, -sprang the castle of its prince, of that Gaucelm the -Fortunate whose father had brought the pillars. -The cathedral had its lesser rise of earth and faced -the castle, and beside the cathedral was the bishop’s -palace, and between the church and the castle, -up and down and over the hillsides, spread the town.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_8" id="Page_8">[8]</a></span> -The sky was as blue as the robe of the Virgin of -Roche-de-Frêne. The southern horizon showed a -gleam of the Mediterranean, and north and west -had purple mountains. In the narrow streets between -the high houses, and in every little opening -and chance square the people of Roche-de-Frêne, -men, women and children, talked, laughed, and -gestured. It was a feast day, holiday, merry in the -sun. Wine was being drunk, jongleurs were telling -tales and playing the mountebank.</p> - -<p>Garin sought his inn and his horse. He was in -Roche-de-Frêne upon Raimbaut’s business, but that -over, he had leave to ride to Castel-Noir and spend -three days with his brother. The merry-making in -the town tempted, but the way was long and he must -go. A chain of five girls crossed his path, brown, -laughing, making dancing steps, their robes kilted -high, red and yellow flowers in their hair. “What -a beautiful young man!” said their eyes. “Stay—stay!” -Garin wanted to stay—but he was not -without judgement and he went. At the inn he had -a spare dinner, the only kind for which he could pay. -A bit of meat, a piece of bread, a bunch of grapes, a -cup of wine—then his horse at the door.</p> - -<p>Half a dozen men-at-arms from the castle passed -this way. They stopped. “That’s a good steed!”</p> - -<p>Garin mounted. “None better,” he said briefly.</p> - -<p>The grizzled chief of the six laid an approving -touch upon the silken flank. “Where did you get -him?”</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_9" id="Page_9">[9]</a></span></p> - -<p>Garin took the reins. “At home.”</p> - -<p>“Good page, where is that?”</p> - -<p>“I am not page, I am esquire,” said Garin.</p> - -<p>“Good esquire, where is that?”</p> - -<p>“‘That’ is Castel-Noir.”</p> - -<p>“A little black tower in a big black wood? I know -the place,” said the grizzled one. “Your lord is -Raimbaut of the Six Fingers.”</p> - -<p>“Just.”</p> - -<p>“Whose lord is the Count of Montmaure, whose -lord is our Prince Gaucelm, whose lord is the King -at Paris, whose lord is the Pope in Rome, whose lord -is God on His Throne.—Do you wish to sell your -horse?”</p> - -<p>“I do not.”</p> - -<p>“I have taken a fancy to him,” said the man-at-arms. -“But there! the land is at peace. Go -your ways—go your ways! Are you for the jousting -in the castle lists?”</p> - -<p>“No. I would see it, but I have not time.”</p> - -<p>“You would see a pretty sight,” quoth the man-at-arms. -“There is Prince Gaucelm’s second princess, -to wit Madame Alazais that is the most beautiful -woman in the world, and sitting beside her the -prince’s daughter, our princess Audiart, that is not -so beautiful.”</p> - -<p>“They say,” spoke Garin, “that she is not beautiful -at all.”</p> - -<p>“That same ‘They say’ is a shifty knave.—Better -go, and I will go with you,” said the man-at-arms,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_10" id="Page_10">[10]</a></span> -“for truly I have not been lately to the -lists.”</p> - -<p>But Garin adhered to it that he could not. He -made Paladin to curvet, bound and caracole, then -with a backward laugh and wave of his hand went -his way—but caused his way to lead him past the -castle of Roche-de-Frêne.</p> - -<p>So riding by, he looked up wistfully to barbican -and walls and towers. The place was vast, a great -example of what a castle might be. Enough folk for -a town housed within it. At one point tree tops, -peering over the walls, spoke of an included garden. -Above the donjon just stirred in the autumn air the -great blue banner of Gaucelm the Fortunate. The -mighty gates were open, the drawbridge down, the -water in the moat smiled as if it had neither memory -nor premonition of dead men in its arms. People -were crossing, gay of dress. The sunny noon, the -holiday time, softened all the hugeness, kept one -from seeing what a frown Roche-de-Frêne might -wear. Garin heard trumpets. The esquire of Raimbaut -the Six-fingered, the brother of Foulque the -Cripple, the youth from the small black tower in the -black wood, gazed and listened with parted lips. -Raimbaut held from Montmaure, but for Raimbaut’s -fief and other fiefs adjacent, Montmaure who -held mainly from the House of Aquitaine, owed -Roche-de-Frêne fealty. Being feudal lord of his -lord, Gaucelm the Fortunate was lord of Foulque -the Cripple and Garin the Squire. The latter wondered<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_11" id="Page_11">[11]</a></span> -if ever he would enter there where the trumpets -were blowing.</p> - -<p>The great pile passed, the town itself passed, he -found himself upon a downward sweeping road and -so, by zig-zags, left the hill of Roche-de-Frêne and -coming to the plain rode west by north between -shorn fields and vineyards. The way was fair but -lonely, for the country folk were gone to the town for -this day of the patron saint and were not yet returning. -Before him lay woods—for much of the country -was wooded then—and craggy hills, and in the -distance purple mountains. He had some leagues to -ride. Now and again he might see, to this hand or to -that, a castle upon a height, below it a huddled -brown hamlet. Late in the afternoon there would -lie to his right the Convent of Our Lady in Egypt. -But his road was not one of the great travelled ways. -It traversed a sparsely populated region, and it was -going, presently, to be lonely enough.</p> - -<p>Garin rode with sunken head, trying to settle -matters before he should see Foulque. If Raimbaut -had been a liberal, noble, joyous lord! But he was -none such. It was little that page or esquire could -learn in his gloomy castle, and little chance might -have knight of his. A gloomy castle, and a lord of -little worth, and a lady old and shrewish.... Every -man must have a lord—or so was Garin’s world -arranged. But if only every man could choose one -to his liking—</p> - -<p>The road bent. Rounding a craggy corner, Paladin<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_12" id="Page_12">[12]</a></span> -and he well-nigh trod upon a sleeping man, -propped at the road edge against a grey boulder. -Paladin curvetted aside, Garin swore by his favourite -saint, the man awoke and stretched his arms. -He was young,—five or six years older, perhaps, -than Garin. His dress, when it came to hue and -cut, showed extravagant and gay, but the stuffs of -which it was composed were far from costly. Here -showed a rent, rather neatly darned, and here a soil -rubbed away as thoroughly as might be. He was -dark and thin, with long, narrow eyes that gave him -an Eastern look. Beside him, slung from his neck by -a ribbon, lay a lute, and he smiled with professional -brilliancy.</p> - -<hr class="chap" /> - -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_13" id="Page_13">[13]</a></span></p> - -<div class="chapter"> - -<h2 class="p4"><a name="c13" id="c13">CHAPTER II</a></h2> - -<p class="pch">THE JONGLEUR AND THE HERD-GIRL</p> - -<p class="pn">“<span class="smcap">Jongleur</span>,” said Garin, “some miles from this -spot there is a feast day in a fair town. This is the -strangest thing that ever I saw, that a jongleur -should be here and not there!”</p> - -<p>“Esquire,” said the other, “I have certain information -that the prince holds to-day a great tourney, -and that every knight and baron in forty miles -around has gone to the joust. I know not an odder -thing than that all the knights should be riding in -one direction and all the esquires in another!”</p> - -<p>“Two odd things in one day is good measure,” said -Garin. “That is a fine lute you have.”</p> - -<p>The thin dark person drew the musical instrument -in front of him and began to play, and then to sing -in a fair-to-middling voice.</p> - -<p class="pp6q p1">“In the spring all hidden close,<br /> -Lives many a bud will be a rose.<br /> -In the spring ’tis crescent morn,<br /> -But then, ah then, the man is born!<br /> -In the spring ’tis yea or nay;<br /> -Then cometh Love makes gold of clay!<br /> -Love is the rose and truest gold,<br /> -Love is the day and soldan bold,<br /> -Love—”</p> - -<p class="p1">The jongleur yawned and ceased to sing. “Why,” -he asked the air, “why should I sing Guy of Perpignan’s<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_14" id="Page_14">[14]</a></span> -doggerel and give it immortality when Guy of -Perpignan, turning on his heel, hath turned me off?”</p> - -<p>He drew the ribbon over his head, laid the lute on -the grass, and leaning back, closed his eyes. Garin -gazed at the lute for a moment then, dismounting, -picked it up and tried his hand. He sang a hunting -stave, in a better voice by far than was the jongleur’s. -None had ever told him that he had a nightingale in -his throat.</p> - -<p>The jongleur opened his eyes. “Good squire, I -could teach you to sing not so badly! But sing of -love—sing of love! Hunting is, poetically speaking, -out of court favour.”</p> - -<p>“I sing of that which I know of,” said Garin.</p> - -<p>The other sat up. “Have I found the phœnix? -Nay, nay, I trow not! Love is the theme, and I have -not found a man—no, not in cloister—who could -not rhyme and carol and expound it! Love is extremely -in fashion.—Have you a lord?”</p> - -<p>“Aye.”</p> - -<p>“Has not that lord a lady?”</p> - -<p>“Aye, so.”</p> - -<p>“Then love thy lady, and sing of it.”</p> - -<p>“I know,” said Garin, “that love is the fashion.”</p> - -<p>“The height of it,” answered the other. “It has -been so now for fifty years and there seems no declining. -It rages.”</p> - -<p>Garin left his horse to crop the sweet grass and -came and sat upon the boulder above the jongleur. -“Tell me,” he said, “how it came to be so. I have a<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_15" id="Page_15">[15]</a></span> -brother, older than me, who scoffs and saith that -women did not use to be of such account.”</p> - -<p>The jongleur took up his lute again. “The troubadour -whom, until the other day, I served, discusses -that. He is proud and ungrateful, but yet for your -edification, I will repeat what he says:—</p> - -<p class="pp6q p1">“As earthly man walks earthly ways,<br /> -At times he findeth, God the praise!<br /> -Far leagues apart, thousand no less,<br /> -Fresh life, fresh light, that will him bless.<br /> -It cometh not save he do beckon.<br /> -He groweth to it as I reckon.<br /> -And when it comes the past seems grey,<br /> -And only now the golden day.<br /> -Then in its turn the golden day<br /> -Fadeth before new gold alway.<br /> -And yet he holds the ancient gain,<br /> -And carryeth it with him o’er the plain.<br /> -And so we fare and so we grow,<br /> -Wise men would not have it other so.”</p> - -<p class="p1">“That is a good rede,” said Garin.</p> - -<p>“It continueth thus,” answered the jongleur.</p> - -<p class="pp6q p1">“In time of old came Reason, King,—<br /> -Ill fares the bow that lacks that string!<br /> -When time was full, to give great light,<br /> -Came Jesu’s word and churches’ might.<br /> -Then Knighthood rose and Courtesy,<br /> -And all we mean by Chivalry.<br /> -These had not come, I rede you well,<br /> -Save that before them rang a bell,<br /> -‘<i>Turn you, and look at Eve beside,<br /> -Who with you roameth the world wide,<br /> -And look no more as hart on hind.</i>’<br /> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_16" id="Page_16">[16]</a></span>Now Love is seen by those were blind.<br /> -Full day it is of high Love’s power.<br /> -Her sceptre stands; it is her hour.<br /> -And well I wis her lovely face<br /> -To Time his reign will lend a grace!—<br /> -But think ye not is made the ring!<br /> -Morn will come a further thing.”</p> - -<p class="p1">The jongleur ceased to finger his lute; Garin sat -silent on the boulder. The light, sifting through the -trees, chequered his olive-green, close-fitting dress -and his brown mantle. He sat, clasping his knee, -his eyes with the blue glints at once bright and -dreamy.</p> - -<p>“I have read,” he said, “that it is a great thing to -be a great lover.”</p> - -<p>“So all the troubadours say,” quoth the jongleur.</p> - -<p>He put the ribbon of the lute around his neck, -stretched himself and rose. “Miles still to the town! -The day is getting on, and I will bid you adieu.”</p> - -<p>Garin, too, looked at the sun, whistled to Paladin -and left the boulder.</p> - -<p>“My name is Elias,” said the jongleur, “and I was -born at Montaudon. If you make acquaintance with -a rich baron who would like to hear a new tale or -song each night for a thousand running, bear me in -mind. I play harp, viol and lute, and so well and -timedly that when they hear me, mourners leave -their weeping and fall to dancing. Moreover, I know -how to walk upon my hands and to vault and tumble, -and I have a trick with eggs and another with platters -in the air that no man or woman hath ever seen -into. I have also a great store of riddles. In addition,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_17" id="Page_17">[17]</a></span> -if need be, I can back a horse and thrust with -a spear.”</p> - -<p>“I know no such lord,” said Garin sadly. “I -would I were he myself.”</p> - -<p>“Then perhaps you may meet with some famous -troubadour. I will serve none,” said Elias, “who is -not in some measure famous. I prefer that he be -knight as well as poet. Be so kind as to round it in -such an one’s ear that you know a famed jongleur. -Say to him that if God has not given him voice -wherewith to sing or to relate his chansons, tensos, -and sirventes, I, who sing like rossignol and who -learned narration in Tripoli and Alexandria, will do -him at least some justice. But if he sings like rossignol -himself or, God-like, speaks his own compositions, -then say that I am the best accompanist—harp, -lute, or viol—between Spain and Italy. Say -that, even though he be armed so cap-à-pie, there -will arise occasions when he is not in voice, or is -weary or out of spirits. Then how well to have such -as I beside him! Then tell him that I have the completest -memory, that I learn most quickly and neither -forget nor misplace, and that never do I take a -liberty with my master’s verse. When you have -come that far, make a pause; then, while he ponders, -resume. Say that, doubtless, at that moment, -a hundred jongleurs, scattered up and down the -land, are chance learning and wrongly giving forth -his mightiest, sweetest poems. Were it not well—ask -him—himself to teach them to one with memory<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_18" id="Page_18">[18]</a></span> -and delivery beyond reproach, who in turn -might teach others? So, from mouth to mouth, all -would go as it should, and he be published correctly. -Let that sink in. Then tell him that I am helpful in -lesser ways,—silent when silence is wanted, always -discreet, a good bearer of letters and messages, quick -at extrications, subtle as an Italian. Say that I am a -good servant and honour him who feeds me and -never mistake where the salt stands. Say that I am -skilful beyond most, and earnest ever for the advancement -and honour of my master. Lastly, say -that I am agreeable, but not too agreeable, in the -eyes of women.”</p> - -<p>“That is necessary?” asked Garin.</p> - -<p>“Absolutely,” answered the jongleur. “Your -lover is as jealous as God. There must not be two -Gods in one miracle play.”</p> - -<p>“Does every troubadour,” asked Garin, “love -greatly?”</p> - -<p>“He thinks he does,” said Elias. “Do not forget, -if you meet a truly famed one, Elias of Montaudon. -You may also say that I have been in the company -of many poets, and that I know the secret soul of -Guy of Perpignan.”</p> - -<p>Both left the boulder and stepped into the road. -Garin laid his hand on Paladin’s neck.</p> - -<p>“My lord is Raimbaut the Six-fingered,” he said. -“His wife, my lady, is half-aged and evil to look -upon, and she rails at every one save Raimbaut, -whom she fears.”</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_19" id="Page_19">[19]</a></span></p> - -<p>“That is ill-luck,” said the jongleur. “There is, -perhaps, some neighbouring lady—”</p> - -<p>“No. Not one.”</p> - -<p>“To be very courtly,” said the jongleur, “one must -be in love with Love. You need not at all see a -woman as she is. It suffices if she is young and not -deformed, and of noble station.”</p> - -<p>“She must always be noble?”</p> - -<p>“It doth not yet descend to shepherdesses,” said -the jongleur. “For them the antique way suffices.”</p> - -<p>Garin mounted his horse and sat still in saddle, -his eyes upon a fair green branch that the sun was -transfiguring, making it very lively and intense in -hue.</p> - -<p>“Great love,” he said. “By the soul of my father, -I think it is a great thing! But if there is none set in -your eyes to love—”</p> - -<p>“Can you not,” said the jongleur, “like Lord -Rudel, love one unseen?”</p> - -<p>Garin sat regarding the green branch. “I do not -know.... We love the unseen when we love Honour.” -He sat for a moment in silence, then drew a sigh -and spoke as though to himself. “It is with me -as if all things were between coming and going, -and a half-light, and a fulness that presses and yet -knows not its path where it will go. I know not -what I shall do, nor how I shall carry life. Now I -feel afire and now I am sad—” He broke off and -looked beyond the green branch; then, before the -other could speak, shook Paladin’s reins and moved<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_20" id="Page_20">[20]</a></span> -down the leafy way. He glanced over his shoulder -at the jongleur. “I will remember you.”</p> - -<p>“Aye, remember!” returned the jongleur. He -faced toward the town, put one leg before the other, -and, going, swept his fingers across the strings of his -lute. He, too, looked over his shoulder and called -across the widening distance. “Choose Love!” he -called.</p> - -<p>Garin, turning the corner of the jutty hill, lost -sight of him. The tinkle of the lute came a moment -longer, then it, too, vanished. The wind in the -leaves sighed and sighed. “O Our Lady,” prayed -Garin, “give thy guidance to the best man within -me!”</p> - -<p>It was now full afternoon, the road growing narrower -and worse, until at last it was a mere track. -It ran through a forest large and old, and it grew -quite lonely. The squire passed no one at all, saw -only the great wood and its inmates that were -four-footed or feathered. He was sympathetic to -such life, and ordinarily gave it attention and found -in an inward and disinterested pleasure attention’s -reward. But to-day his mind was divided and -troubled, and he rode unseeingly.</p> - -<p>“The Abbot and Holy Church,” said part of his -mind. “Raimbaut and some day knighthood,” said -another part. “There is earthly power,” said the -first part, “for those who serve Holy Church—serve -Her to Her profit and liking. Earthly power—and -in Heaven, prelates still!” Spoke the second<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_21" id="Page_21">[21]</a></span> -part; “Ripe grapes of power fall, too, to the warrior’s -hand. Only be tall enough, strong enough to pluck -them from the stoutest fortress wall! Knights have -become barons, barons counts, counts kings!—And -is not a good knight welcome in Heaven? I trow -that he is, and that the angels vie with one another -to do him honour!”</p> - -<p>It seemed to Garin, though it seemed dimly -enough, that other voices were trying to make themselves -heard. But the first two were the loud ones, -the distinct ones. They were the fully formed, the -sinewy, the inherited concepts.</p> - -<p>He rode on. He was now near the end of the forest. -It began to break into grassy glades. In a little time -it had so thinned that looking between the tree -trunks one saw open country. Paladin raised his -head, pricked his ears.</p> - -<p>“What is it?” asked Garin. “Those yonder are -only sheep upon the hillside.”</p> - -<p>The next moment he heard a woman scream, -“Help! Help!”</p> - -<p>He pricked Paladin forward and together they -burst into a little open space, rounded by a thicket -and shadowed by oaks. To one of these a horse was -tied. Its dismounted rider, a young man, richly -dressed, had by the arms and had forced to her -knees, a peasant girl, herd, as it seemed, of a few -sheep who might be seen upon the hillside beyond -the thicket.</p> - -<p>She cried again, “<i>A moi! A moi!</i>” She fought<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_22" id="Page_22">[22]</a></span> -like a young tigress, twisting her body this way -and that, striving to wrench her arms free, and -that failing, bending her face and biting. The -man was big-boned and strong, with red-gold -locks, inclining to auburn, and face and eyes just -now red and gleaming. He was young,—a very -few years older than Garin,—but his heel showed -a knight’s spur. He bent the girl backward, struck -her a blow that fairly stunned her outcry.</p> - -<p>Garin burst into the ring. “Thou caitiff! Turn -and fight!”</p> - -<p>As he spoke he leaped to the ground and drew his -dagger—a long and good one it chanced to be.</p> - -<p>The attacker turned upon him a face of surprise -and fury. “Meddler! Meddler! Begone from here!” -Snatching from his belt a small, silver-mounted -horn, he blew it shrilly, for he had followers with -him whom he had sent ahead when he came upon -the herd-girl and would stop for ill passion’s sake. -But they had gone too considerable a way, or the -wind blew against the horn, or a hill came between. -Whatever it was, he summoned in vain.</p> - -<p>“O thou coward!” cried Garin. “Turn and fight!”</p> - -<p>The knight stamped upon the ground. “Fight -with a page or a squire at best! My men shall -scourge that green coat from your back! Begone -with your life—”</p> - -<p>“Now,” answered Garin, “if you were heir of -France, yet are you to me churl and recreant!”</p> - -<p>Whereupon the other took his hands from the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_23" id="Page_23">[23]</a></span> -herd-girl, drew his short sword, and sprang upon -him.</p> - -<p>Raimbaut the Six-fingered had faults many and -heavy, but those about him lacked not for instruction -in the art of attack and defence. Garin was -skilful to make the difference not so pronounced -between that long dagger of his and the other’s -sword, and he was as strong as his opponent, and his -eyes nothing like so clouded with despite and fury. -The knight had far the wider experience, was counted -bold and successful. But to-day he was at a disadvantage; -he knew cold rages in which he fought or -tilted well; but this was a hot rage, and his arm -shook and he struck wide. Still the summoned men -did not come, and still the two struggled for mastery. -As for the herd-girl—she had risen to her knees -and then to her feet, and now was standing beneath -a young oak, her eyes upon the combat. At -first she had made a move to leave the place, and -then had shaken her head and stayed.</p> - -<p>Garin gained, his antagonist fighting now in a -blind fury. Presently the squire gave a stroke so -effective that the blood spouted and the knight, -reeling, let fall his weapon. He himself followed, -sinking first upon his knee and then upon his -face.</p> - -<p>“Now have I slain you?” demanded Garin, and -thrusting the sword aside with his foot, kneeled to -see.</p> - -<p>Whereupon the other turned swiftly and struck<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_24" id="Page_24">[24]</a></span> -upward with his dagger. The squire, jerking aside, -went free of the intended hurt.</p> - -<p>“Now! by the soul of my father!” swore Garin, -“this is a noble knight and must be nobly dealt -with!” And so he took the other’s wrists, forced -away the dagger, and wrestling with him, bound his -hands with his belt, then dragged him to the nearest -tree, and, cutting the bridle from his horse, ran the -leather beneath his arms and tied him to the -trunk. This done, he took from him the horn, and -stooping, glanced at his wound. “It will not kill you. -Live and learn knightliness!”</p> - -<p>The other, bound to the tree, twisted and strove, -trying to free himself. His face was no longer -flushed but pale from loss of blood and huge anger. -His eyes burned like coals and he gnashed his teeth. -He had a hawk nose, a sensuous mouth, and across -his cheek a long and curiously shaped scar, traced -there by a poignard. Garin, gazing upon him, saw -that he promised to be a mighty man.</p> - -<p>The bound one spoke, his voice shaking with -passion. “Who are you and what is your name? -Who is your lord? My father and I will come, level -your house with earth, flay you alive and nail you -head downward to a tree—”</p> - -<p>“If you can, fair sir,” said Garin. Stepping back, -he saw upon the earth the herd-girl’s distaff where -she had dropped it when the knight came against -her. The squire picked it up, came back to the captive’s -side and thrust it between his tied hands.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_25" id="Page_25">[25]</a></span> -“Now,” he said, “let your men find you with no -sword, but with a distaff!”</p> - -<p>But the herd-girl moved at that from beneath the -oak. Garin found her at his side, a slim, dark girl, -with torn dress and long, black, loosened hair. “You -are all alike!” she cried. “You would shame him -with my distaff! But I tell you that it is my distaff -that you shame!” With that she came to the bound -man, caught the distaff from between his hands, and -with it burst through the thicket and went again -among her sheep.</p> - -<p>There, presently, Garin found her, lying beneath -a green bank, her head buried in her arms.</p> - -<p>“You were right,” said Garin, standing with -Paladin beside her, “to take your distaff away. I -am sorry that I did that.—Now what will you do? -He had those with him who will come to seek him.”</p> - -<p>The girl stood up. “I have been a fool,” she said, -succinctly. “But there! we learn by folly.” She -looked about her. “Where will I go? Well, that is -the question.”</p> - -<p>“Where do you live?”</p> - -<p>The herd-girl seemed to regard the horizon from -west to east and from east to west. Then she said, -“In a hut, two miles yonder. But his men went that -way.”</p> - -<p>“Then you cannot go there now.”</p> - -<p>“No.—Not now.”</p> - -<p>Garin pondered. “It is less than two leagues,” he -said, “to the Convent of Our Lady in Egypt. I could<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_26" id="Page_26">[26]</a></span> -take you there. The good nuns will give you shelter -and send you safe to-morrow to your people.”</p> - -<p>The herd-girl seemed to consider it, then she -nodded her head. She said something, but her voice -was half lost in the black torrent of her loosened hair. -The sun’s rays were slant—it was growing late.</p> - -<p>Garin mounted and drew her up behind him. At -a little distance the road forked.</p> - -<p>“They went that way,” she said, pointing.</p> - -<p>“Then it’s as well,” said Garin, “that we go this. -Now we had best ride fast for a time.”</p> - -<p>They rode fast for a good long way; then, as no -hoof-sound or cry came from behind, the squire -checked Paladin, and they went slowly enough to -talk.</p> - -<p>“I have hopes,” said Garin, “that he swooned, -and when they found him could tell them naught. -Do you know his name?”</p> - -<p>“No. I was asleep in the sun.”</p> - -<p>“What is your name?”</p> - -<p>“Jael.”</p> - -<p>“The nuns will care for you.”</p> - -<p>“I will ask them to let me stay and keep their -sheep.”</p> - -<p>They rode on through a fair, smiling country. -Garin fell silent and the herd-girl was not talkative. -He could not but ride wondering about that knight -back there, and who he might be and how powerful. -He saw that it was possible that he had provided a -hornet’s nest for the ears of Castel-Noir and Foulque.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_27" id="Page_27">[27]</a></span> -He drew a sigh, half-frighted and half-proud of a -proved prowess.</p> - -<p>The girl behind him moved slightly. “I had forgot -to say it,” she murmured. “I will say it now. -Fair sir, I am humbly grateful—”</p> - -<p>Garin had a great idiosyncrasy. He disliked to be -thanked. “I liked that fighting,” he said. “It was -no sacrifice. That is,” he thought, “it will not be if -he never find out my name.”</p> - -<p>Paladin carried them a way farther. Said Garin, -remembering chivalry, “It is man’s part to protect -the weaker being, that is woman.”</p> - -<p>“It puzzles so!” said the herd-girl. “I am not -very weak. Is it man’s part, too, to lay hands upon -a woman against her will? If man did not that, then -man need not do, at such cost, the other. What -credit to put water on the house you yourself set -afire?”</p> - -<p>“Now by Our Lady,” said Garin, “you are a -strange herd-girl!” He twisted in the saddle so that -he might look at her. She sat still,—young, slim -and forlorn to the eye, dark as a berry, her feet bare -and her dress so torn that her limbs showed. Her -long, black loosened hair almost hid her face, which -seemed thin, with irregular features. She had her -distaff still, the forlorn serf’s daughter, herself a serf.</p> - -<p>“If we plume ourselves it is a mistake, and foolishness,” -said Garin. “But yet though one man act -villainously, another may act well.”</p> - -<p>“Just,” said the herd-girl. “And I thank the one<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_28" id="Page_28">[28]</a></span> -who has acted well—but not all men. I thank a -man, but not mankind.”</p> - -<p>“How old are you?”</p> - -<p>“I am eighteen.”</p> - -<p>“Where got you your thoughts?”</p> - -<p>“There is time and need for thinking,” said the -herd-girl, “when you keep sheep.”</p> - -<p>With that she sighed and fell silent. They were -going now by a swift stream; when, presently, they -came to the ford and crossed, they were upon convent -lands. Our Lady in Egypt was a Cistercian -convent, ample and rich, and her grey-clad nuns -came from noble houses. There were humbly born -lay sisters. The abbess was the sister of a prince. -The place had wealth, and being of the order of -Saint Bernard, then in its first strength, was like a -hive for work. From the ford on, the road was -mended, the fields fat, the hedges trim. The convent -had its serfs, and the huts of these people were not -miserable, nor did the people themselves look hunger-stricken -and woe-begone. The hillsides smiled with -vineyards, the sky arched all with an Egyptian blue, -the westering sun, tempering his fierceness, looked -benignly on. Presently, in a vale beside the stream, -they saw the great place, set four-square, a tiny -hamlet clinging like an infant to its skirts. Behind, -covering a pleasant slope, were olive groves with -tall cypresses mounting like spires. Grey sisters -worked among the grey trees. A bell rang slowly, -with a silver tone.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_29" id="Page_29">[29]</a></span></p> - -<p>“I will take you to the gate,” said Garin. “Then -you can knock and the sister will let you in.”</p> - -<p>“Aye, that will she. And you, fair squire, where -will you go? Where is your home?”</p> - -<p>Now Garin was thinking, “If that knight is a -powerful man it is well that I gave him no inkling of -where to find me!” Assuredly he had no thought -nor fear that the herd-girl might betray. And yet he -did not say, “I was born at Castel-Noir,” or “I live -now in the castle of Raimbaut the Six-fingered.” -He said, “I dwell by the sea, a long way from here.”</p> - -<p>“Dusk is at hand,” said the herd-girl. “There, -among those houses, is one set apart for benighted -travellers.”</p> - -<p>“How do you know that? Have you been here -before?”</p> - -<p>“Aye, once.—If you have far to ride, or the way -is not clear before you, you had best rest to-night -in the traveller’s house.”</p> - -<p>But Garin shook his head. “I will go on.”</p> - -<p>With that they came, just before the sun went -down, to the wall of the convent, and the door beneath -a round arch where the needy applied for -shelter or relief. The squire checked Paladin. He -made a motion to dismount, but the girl put a brown -hand upon his knee.</p> - -<p>“Stay,” she said, “where you are! I will ring the -bell and speak to the portress.” So saying, she -slipped to the earth like brown running water; then -turned and spoke to the rescuer. “Fair squire,” she<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_30" id="Page_30">[30]</a></span> -said, “take again my thanks. If ever I can pay good -turn with good turn, be sure that I will do it!” She -moved within the arch, put her hand to the bell and -set it jangling, then again turned her head. “Will -you remove from so close before the door? You will -frighten the sister. And the sun is down and you -had best be going. Farewell!”</p> - -<p>Involuntarily Garin backed Paladin further from -the round arch. The horse was eager for his stable, -wheeled in that direction, and chafed at the yet restraining -hand. Garin looked as in a dream at the -herd-girl. Even now he could not see her face for -that streaming hair. A grating in the convent door -opened and the sister who was portress looked forth. -The herd-girl spoke, but he could not hear what was -the word she said. A key grated, the convent door -swung open. “Lord God!” cried the grey sister. He -heard that, and had a glimpse of her standing with -lifted hands. The herd-girl crossed the threshold. -Paladin, insisting upon the road, took for a moment -the squire’s full attention. When he looked back the -convent wall was blank; door and grating alike were -closed.</p> - -<hr class="chap" /> - -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_31" id="Page_31">[31]</a></span></p> - -<div class="chapter"> - -<h2 class="p4"><a name="c31" id="c31">CHAPTER III</a></h2> - -<p class="pch">THE NIGHTINGALE</p> - -<p class="pn"><span class="smcap">Foulque</span> the Cripple listened with a perturbed brow. -“You should have left him alone! A wretched herd-girl!”</p> - -<p>“If I am to be knight,” said Garin hotly, “I -will not read knighthood so.”</p> - -<p>“Psha!” said Foulque. “They put resistance on! -It is a mask when they seem unwilling. And if it -were real, what then?—Saint Pol, what then?—And -you saw naught to tell you who he was?”</p> - -<p>“No.”</p> - -<p>Foulque fretted. “If I had been there, I should -have found some colour or sign! But you go as -dreamily as if you were bewitched! You see naught -that’s to the point.”</p> - -<p>“He had a blue robe and a surcoat of crimson, and -shoes of brown cordovan,” said Garin. “His sword -had a rich hilt, and his gloves were embroidered. I -noted them where he had thrust them in the bosom -of his robe when I knelt to look at his wound. He -was red-gold of hair and hawk nosed, full-lipped, -and with a scar on his cheek. I think that he is older -than I, but not much older.”</p> - -<p>“Well, well!” said Foulque, “he may have been -some wanderer from a distance, with no recourse but<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_32" id="Page_32">[32]</a></span> -his own hand. Moreover, for fame’s sake, he will not -be quick to talk about a younger man, and one of less -degree. If he found out neither your name nor house,—perhaps -we’ll hear no more of it.... Well, what -have you to say? I have news for you! The abbot -hath been to Roche-de-Frêne, and on his way home -is pleased to sleep one night at Castel-Noir. A man -of his brought notice this morning. This is Tuesday—Friday -he will be here.” Foulque rose and limped -across the hall in some excitement. “Poor and bare, -God knows! is Castel-Noir, but we will do what we -can! My bed here he shall have, and we will put up -the hangings from Genoa, and strew the floor with -fair herbs. There’s wine enough, and Pierre shall -begin his baking to-morrow morn! Friday.—He -will have, his man said, twenty in his train. The -sub-prior—five or six brothers—the rest stout -serfs with staves.—Friday!—Every man of ours -must be set to fishing!”</p> - -<p>When every man was sent to the stream, the company -of fishermen covered no great length of bank. -Moreover all could not settle to fishing, for some -must forth to forage for the approaching horse, and -to find venison, fowls, and other matters for the -Saturday morn. For poor was the small black tower -in the black wood! Foulque could furnish to his lord -a young brother for esquire, and, if a levy were made, -ten men, by no means prize men, with ten horses, by -no means horses for a king’s stable. Paladin was the -only horse of that nature. A poor, small fief was<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_33" id="Page_33">[33]</a></span> -Castel-Noir—black keep and tower on a crag, set -in a dark wood, with a few fields beyond, and all -under shadow of the mountains to the north. South -of it, only, ran the bright stream where fish were to -be caught.</p> - -<p>Thursday sunrise, Garin took a fishing-rod and -went down the crag by the road cut, long since, in -the rock, and through the wood to this stream. In a -great leather pouch slung over his shoulder he had, -with other matters, bread and meat. He meant to -make a day of it, bringing home in the evening good -fish for Pierre’s larder. When he reached the stream, -he found there old Jean and his two grandsons and -they had a great basket, its bottom already flashing -silver and iris.</p> - -<p>“Good-morning, Jean and Pol and Arnaut,” said -Garin.</p> - -<p>“Good-morning, master! The Blessed Maries -have sent good fishing! They snap as soon as you -touch the water.”</p> - -<p>Farther down the stream he found Sicart. “How -great a man, master, is the abbot? Very great he -must be if he eats all the fish we are taking! It is a -miracle!”</p> - -<p>Garin moved down the stream seeking for a place -that should seize his fancy. The eagerness with -which he had risen and sallied forth disappeared. -They would have enough for the Abbot and his train—more -than enough. At times he cared for fishing, -but not, he found, to-day. Why then fish, if there<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_34" id="Page_34">[34]</a></span> -was no need? He still carried the rod, but he continued -to walk, making no motion to stop and put it -into use. There was a foot-path by the stream, and -it and the gliding water led him on. He wanted to -think, or, more truly, to dream. Back in the black -castle all was topsy-turvy, and Foulque concerned -only with family fortunes.</p> - -<p>Now Garin walked, and now he leaned against -some tree and gazed at the flowing water; but on the -whole he moved forward with such steadiness that -before the sun was much above the tree-tops the -foot-path ceased, having brought him to a great -round stone and an overhanging pine, and the end, -on this side, of the fief of Castel-Noir. Beyond came -a strip of stony and unprofitable land, a debated -possession, claimed by two barons and of no especial -use to any man. Garin threw himself down upon -the boundary stone and, chin in hand, regarded the -sliding stream.</p> - -<p>It was this stone, perhaps, that brought into mind -Tuesday’s boulder and the jongleur. Rather than -the jongleur came the figure of the jongleur’s lute. -Garin’s fingers moved as though they felt beneath -them the strings. A verse was running, running -through his head. Only after a slow, lilting, inward -saying of it over twice or thrice did it come to him, -like the opening of a flower, that it was his own, not -another’s. He had made it, lying there. He rose -from the stone and walked forward, still going with -the gliding stream. As he walked, the second verse<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_35" id="Page_35">[35]</a></span> -came to him. He said over the two, said over his -first poem and said it over again, tasting it, savouring -it, hearing it now with music. He was in a dream -of dawn....</p> - -<p>There was no longer a path, but he went on over -the stony soil, beneath old gnarled and stunted -trees. The sun rode high and made the water a flood -of diamonds. Garin walked with a light and rapid -step. When a tree came in his way he swerved and -rounded it and went on, but he was hardly conscious -that it had been there. The fishing-rod was yet in -his hand, but he did not think of the rod, nor of -fishing, nor of Castel-Noir, nor Foulque, nor the -abbot, nor of the decision which the abbot’s visit -would force. He hardly knew of what he was thinking. -It was diffused,—the world was diffused,—drifting -and swinging, and in the mist he touched a -new power.</p> - -<p>A hawk shot downwards, plunged beak in water, -rose with the taken fish and soared into the eye of -day. Garin started, shook himself, and looked -about him. He had come farther than he meant. He -half-turned, then stood irresolute, then again faced -downstream. The day was not old, and a distaste -seized him for going back and listening to Foulque -on what the abbot might or might not do. He wandered -on.</p> - -<p>An hour later he came upon another boundary -mark. This was a cross cut in stone, with a rude -carving upon the block that formed the base. Garin<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_36" id="Page_36">[36]</a></span> -sat down to rest, and sitting so, fell to scraping with -his knife the encrusting lichen from this carving. -There was a palm tree and a pyramid, which stamped -Egypt in mind. Here was Saint Joseph, and here -was the ass bearing the Mother and Child. Above -was Latin, to the effect that you were upon the lands -of the Convent of Our Lady in Egypt. Garin knew -that, and that two miles down the stream the nuns -would be now at the noon office. He wondered if, -yesterday or to-day, they had sent Jael the herd -back to her own. But, on the surface, at least, of -consciousness there floated no long thought of that -matter. His mood was one of half-melancholy, half-exaltation, -all threaded with the warm wonder of -making verses.</p> - -<p>The nature of the land changed here. For stone -and dwarfed growth there began a richer soil and -nobler trees. The latter made, all along the water’s -edge, a narrow grove, with here and there a fairy -opening and lawn of fine grass. Garin, having -scraped away the lichen, looked at the sun, which -was now past the meridian, and thought that he -would retrace his steps.</p> - -<p>Before him, out of a covert a little way down the -stream, a nightingale sang suddenly. Garin listened, -and it might be his mood of to-day that made him -think that never before had he heard any bird sing -so sweetly. It carolled on, rich and deep, and the -young man went toward it. The ribbon of wood was -dark and sweet; the bird sang like a soul imprisoned.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_37" id="Page_37">[37]</a></span> -When it silenced itself Garin still stood looking up -into its tree. Presently it flew from that bower and, -crossing one of the elfin lawns, lost itself in the -farther trees. Garin went on to this grove and it -sang for him again. When it ceased he did not go -back to the boundary stone. This country pleased -him and he thought, “I will go on and see how Our -Lady in Egypt looks from this side.”</p> - -<p>He followed the stream a mile and more. It was -slipping now beneath mighty trees. Their arching -boughs made a roof; it was like walking in cloisters. -Between the pillars, inland, could be seen fields and -vineyards and, at last, the convent’s self, with her -olive trees behind her. Garin came now to thickly -planted laurels, a grove within a grove. This he -threaded, pushing aside the heavy leaves. The -laurels ended suddenly, standing close and trim, a -high green wall. This followed a curving line and -half enclosed a goodly space of turf, a shaven floor of -emerald, laved by the little river and shaded by a -plane, a poplar, and a cedar. The cedar stood close -to the laurels and close to Garin, and beneath the -cedar was placed a seat of stone carved like a great -chair. The spot was all chequered with light and -shade, the air was sweet and fine, and the water sang -as it passed. A fairer place for dreaming, for talk or -sober merry-making, might not be found. Just now -it was as clean as fairyland of human occupancy.</p> - -<p>Garin stepped from the laurel wall and sat in the -stone seat. It pleased him, this place! A sense of<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_38" id="Page_38">[38]</a></span> -mystery gathered; he began to dream, dream. All -manner of coloured, gleaming thought-motes danced -over the threshold. The minutes passed.</p> - -<p>Voices—women’s voices! Doubly a trespasser -that he was, he was not willing to be found here, -reigning it from this seat over the sweep of lawn, the -three trees, and the singing water. He rose, and -stepped back into the wall of laurel; then, being -young and not incurious, waited to see who it was -that was coming. Lay sisters, perhaps, going from -vineyard to vineyard, or bringing clothes for the -washing to the river bank which here was rightly -shelving. A gleam of grey garments between the -tree-trunks on the other side of the sylvan theatre -seemed to prove him right; and indeed, in a moment, -there did emerge three or four of these same lay -sisters—strong, tanned, peasant women, roughly -dressed, fit for outdoor labour. They carried on -their heads huge osier baskets, but when they set -these down, what was taken out was not linen or -woollen for washing, but rugs of Eastern weave and -cushions of Eastern make.</p> - -<p>Moreover, with or following the lay sisters came -others—young women—who were certainly not -under convent rule. These seized the rugs and -cushions and scattered them here and there, to -advantage, over the grass. They also set out dishes -of fruit and Eastern comfits, and one placed a harp -upon a square of gold silk which she spread beneath -the poplar. As they worked they chattered like<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_39" id="Page_39">[39]</a></span> -magpies. They were dressed well and fancifully but -not richly; it was to be made out that they were -waiting-women of those who did dress richly. One -cocked her ear, then raised her hand in a gesture to -the others, whereupon all fell into a demure silence. -The lay sisters who had been stolid and still throughout, -now drew off by a path which carried them -to the vineyards. The waiting women cast a look -around, then, with nods of satisfaction, picked up -the empty baskets and found for them and for themselves -some pleasant subordinate haven down by -the stream, around the corner of the lawn.</p> - -<p>The little lawn lay prepared, festive and a desert. -Now was the moment when Garin might withdraw -and the rustle of the laurel leaves tell no tale where -were no ears to hear. Truly, he thought once and -twice of departing, but then before the third -thought which might have passed into action, he -caught, floating out of the opposite wood, delightful -voices, laughter that rippled, and a sheen and flash -of colours. What he forthwith determined to do -was to please a little longer eye and ear and sate -curiosity. Then—and it need not be long—he -would turn, and as noiselessly as an innocent green-and-brown -serpent, slip away toward Castel-Noir. -Given that he were discovered, plain truth-telling -were not bad. Discovery might bring him rebuke -not too scornful, with, perhaps, some laughter in her -eye.</p> - -<p>He laid his fishing-rod down, then knelt beside it<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_40" id="Page_40">[40]</a></span> -upon the brown earth between the laurel stems. -Couched so, he could look past the stone seat and -the cedar trunk, and so observe what pageant might -appear. Had he had a wand in his hand he could -have touched with it this carven chair.</p> - -<p>Out from the shadowy opposite grove came bright -ladies, seven or eight. One was dressed in violet and -one in rose, one in green and white, and one in -daffodil, one in a bright medley, one in white sprigged -with gold, and one in the colour of the sky. After -the fashion of the time their hair hung in long braids -from beneath fillet, or garland, or veil of gauze -twisted turban-wise or floating loose. Their shoes -were of soft-coloured leather or of silk, their dress -close-fitting and sweeping the grass. The wide and -long mantles that were worn by both sexes were not -in evidence here—the day was warm and the convent, -whence alone these fair ones could have come, -at no distance. Garin wondered, and then he bethought -himself that some great reigning countess—perhaps -some duchess or princess of Italy or Spain -or further yet afield, perhaps some queen—might -be travelling through the land, going from one court -to another and by the way pausing to refresh herself -in the house of Our Lady in Egypt. From Roche-de-Frêne, -he knew, there was no such absence. The -man-at-arms at the inn had said that the princesses -Alazais and Audiart were seated with their ladies to -mark the jousts.... He lay and watched.</p> - -<p>Of the bright apparitions two seemed of their<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_41" id="Page_41">[41]</a></span> -full summer and prime, more stately, more authoritative -than the others. The others were in their -spring and early spring. Light or dark, blonde or -brunette, all had beauty. Garin’s eyes darkened -and softened, and the corners of his lips moved upward -to see such an array, and the swimming movement -with which they dispersed themselves over the -lawn, and to hear their trained voices. All seemed -gay and laughing, and yet there presently appeared -a discontent. The dame in daffodil took up the harp -and swept the strings.</p> - -<p>“Ah!” cried the one in azure, “for a true troubadour!”</p> - -<p>“For even a jongleur!”</p> - -<p>“Ah, what is life without men!”</p> - -<p>“Ah, for the tourney!”</p> - -<p>“Ah, if there were in sight but a monastery!”</p> - -<p>The older two, who had an air of responsibility, -rebuked the others. “Life is made up of to and fro, -and sounds and silences! Be content! It is but one -month out of many.”</p> - -<p>“As if months were as plentiful as cherries!”</p> - -<p>“Ah, if I were a princess—”</p> - -<p>“Hush!” warned the daffodil-clad, and began to -play upon the harp.</p> - -<p>Garin saw that another two were coming through -the grove. One of these would be the noble lady for -whom it was all planned. His imagination was active -to-day with a deep, involuntary pulsing. Foix -or Toulouse, or the greater domains to the north and<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_42" id="Page_42">[42]</a></span> -west, or it might be Aragon, or it might be Italy? -Or she might have come from Sicily, or like Prince -Rudel’s far lady, from a kingdom or duchy carved -from Paynim lands. Some Eastern touch in the -scene made him dwell upon that. No matter whence -now she came, she must have lived on a day in the -long, the outspread, the curving and sunny lands of -this very south. The tongue of her ladies proved -that. Wedded she might have been to some great -prince and borne away, and now returned for a time -and a pilgrimage to the land of birth.... All this -and more was of his imaging. He lay upon the dark -earth and parted the laurel leaves that he might see -more clearly.</p> - -<p>The two were now plain among the trees. One -was a blonde of much beauty, dressed in grey cendal -and carrying a book which seemed to belong to her -companion. The latter was a little in advance, and -she came on without speaking, and so stepped from -the wood upon the lawn. The seven already arrived -beneath the plane, the poplar, and the cedar made a -formal movement of courtesy, then gathered like a -rainbow about the one of first importance. Plaintiveness -and discontent retired from evidence, court -habit came up paramount. You might have thought -that these were dryads or Dian’s nymphs, and no -other spot than this wood their loved home! There -came to Garin’s ear a ripple of sweet voices, but it -seemed that their lady for whom had been spread -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_43" id="Page_43">[43]</a></span>the feast was either silent or seldom-and low-speaking. -She stood beneath the shimmering, tremulous -poplar, a slender shape of fair height. She was -dressed in some fine weave of dark blue with a girdle -of samite studded with gems. The ends of this girdle -hung to her silken shoe. Her hair, black and long, -was braided with gems. She seemed young, young -as the youngest there. “Seemed” is used, because -Garin saw not her face. She wore, as did several of -the others, a veil of Eastern device, but hers was long -and wide and threaded with gold and silver, and so -worn that it overhung and shielded every feature.</p> - -<p>Attention was called to the placing of the rugs, -the cushions, the harp, the dishes of fruit and comfits. -The one for whom they had waited nodded her -head and seemed to approve. She was not garrulous; -there seemed to breathe about her, he knew not -what, a tone of difference. All now moved to the -water-edge, and for a time loitered there upon the -green and rushy bank. One raised her voice and -sang,—</p> - -<p class="pp6q p1">“Green are the boughs when lovers meet,</p> -<p class="pp7">Grey when they part—”</p> - -<p class="p1">The bevy turned and came up the sloping lawn to -the three trees and the cushions upon the grass. The -shape in dark blue with the Eastern veil moved beyond -them to the cedar and the stone chair. Here -she took her seat, and when the others would have -gathered about her waved them back with a slender, -long-fingered hand. One brought to her a basket of -grapes. She chose a purple cluster resting upon a<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_44" id="Page_44">[44]</a></span> -web of vine leaves but laid it untouched beside her -upon the wide seat. There was a space between her -and the dark enshadowing cedar and those others -resting now upon the cushions. She sat quite still, a -hand upon each arm of the chair, the deep blue of -her dress flowing about her, the gems of the girdle -ends making a sombre gleaming. The veil hid all her -face from Garin, lying so near. He felt in her something -solitary, something powerful, yet felt that she -was young, young—She sat with her gaze straight -before her upon the blue crests that showed afar. -She sat as still as though an enchanter had bid her -stay. And between her and the young man crouching -in the laurels streamed no wide ocean of the -autumn air, of the subtle ether. The moments -passed, slow, plangent, like the notes of the harp -that was being played....</p> - -<p>What happened to one or both? Did one only feel -it, the one that knew there were two—or did, in -some degree, the other also, and think it was a day-dream? -All that Garin knew, kneeling there, was -that something touched him, entered him. It came -across that space, or it came from some background -and space not perceived. It was measureless, or it -seemed to him without measure. It was clothed in -marvel; it was fulness and redoubling, it was more -life. It was as loud as thunder, and as still as the -stillest inner whisper. It was so sweet that he -wished to weep, and yet he wished too to leap and -spring and exult aloud, to send his cry of possession<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_45" id="Page_45">[45]</a></span> -to the skies. He felt akin to all that his senses -touched. But as for the form in the stone chair—he -sat with her there, she knelt with him here, they -were one body.... With a swimming feeling, her -being seemed to pass from his. He knelt here, Garin -of the Black Castle, squire of Raimbaut the Six-fingered, -and she sat there whose face he had not -seen—a great dame, lady doubtless of some lord -of a hundred barons each worthier than Raimbaut.</p> - -<p>Garin gazed across the little space between, and -now it was as though it were half the firmament. -She sat like a figure among the stars, blue-robed, -amid the deep blue, and the cloudy world was between -them. She grew like to a goddess—like to -the Unattainable Ideal, and he felt no longer like -a king, but like the acolyte that lights the lamp and -kneels as he places it. Now it was the Age for this to -happen, and for one man to act as had acted that -knight in the wood toward Roche-de-Frêne, and for -another to do as now did Garin.</p> - -<p>For now he wished no longer to play the spy, and -he turned very carefully and silently in the laurels -and crept away. In all his movements he was lithe -and clean, and he made no sound that the brooding -young figure in the stone chair attended to. Presently, -looking back, his eyes saw only the great -height of the cedar, its dark head against the blue -heaven. The liquid, dropping notes of the harp pursued -him a little farther, but when he was forth from -the laurel grove they, too, passed upon the air. He<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_46" id="Page_46">[46]</a></span> -was soon at the boundary cross of Our Lady in -Egypt, and then upon the waste and stony land that -set toward the fief of Castel-Noir. Was it only this -morning, thought Garin, that he had come this way? -And the nightingale that sang so deep and full—it -was not in the boughs above—it was singing now -in his own heart!</p> - -<hr class="chap" /> - -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_47" id="Page_47">[47]</a></span></p> - -<div class="chapter"> - -<h2 class="p4"><a name="c47" id="c47">CHAPTER IV</a></h2> - -<p class="pch">THE ABBOT</p> - -<p class="pn"><span class="smcap">Friday</span> the mistral blew, and Foulque was always -wretched in that wind. He gloomed now from this -narrow window and now from that in the black -castle’s thick walls. The abbot was not expected -before the dial showed twelve, but Foulque looked -from here and looked from there, and kept a man -atop of the tower to scan the road beyond the wood. -The hall was ready for the abbot, the arras hung, -the floor strewn with leaves and autumn buds, the -great chair placed aright, a rich coverlet spread upon -the state bed. Pierre was ready,—the sauce for the -fish, the fish themselves were ready for the oven. -Castel-Noir rested clean and festive, and every man -knew that he was to sink down upon both knees and -ask the abbot’s blessing.</p> - -<p>The wind blew and hurled the leaves on high. The -sun shone, the sky was bright, but the moving air, -dry and keen, was as a grindstone upon which tempers -were edged. A shrivelled, lame man must feel -it. Under the hooded mantel a fire was laid, but not -kindled. Foulque could not decide whether the -abbot would feel the wind as he felt it, and want to -be welcomed with physical as well as other warmth, -or whether, riding hard, he would be heated and<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_48" id="Page_48">[48]</a></span> -would frown at the sight of the fire. Foulque would -have liked a roaring blaze, out-sounding the wind. -But the Abbot of Saint Pamphilius was of a full -body, tall and stout, a hunter and a hawker. Foulque -determined to have a torch from the kitchen immediately -at hand and kindle or not kindle according -to the first glimpse of his kinsman’s face.</p> - -<p>The window embrasures were deep enough to -swallow a family. Foulque, a sensitive, knew without -turning his head when Garin, too, stood within -the one that overlooked the road where it emerged -from the wood. “He should be here at any minute,” -said Foulque. “Well? Well?”</p> - -<p>“Brother Foulque,” said Garin, “I have determined, -an it please you, to bide with Lord Raimbaut -and become a knight.”</p> - -<p>Foulque let his wrath gather to a head. When it -was at the withering point, his gaze having been -directed upon Garin for full thirty seconds, he spoke. -“Marry and crave pardon! Who is it hath determined?”</p> - -<p>“I,” said Garin. “I.”</p> - -<p>Foulque moistened his lips. “What has come -to you? Raimbaut will let you go. The Abbot of -Saint Pamphilius invites—nay, he will himself -smooth your way to Holy Church’s high places. I, -your elder brother, command—”</p> - -<p>“Your entreaty would do more, brother,” said -Garin. “But I can no other.”</p> - -<p>“‘Can no other!—can no other!’ Does the fool<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_49" id="Page_49">[49]</a></span> -see himself Alexander or Roland or Arthur?” -Foulque laughed. “Raimbaut the Six-fingered’s -squire!”</p> - -<p>Garin was patient. “All the same he can give me -knighthood.”</p> - -<p>His brother laughed again and struck his hands -together. “Knighthood! Knighthood! Oh, your -advantage from his buffet on your shoulder! Raimbaut!” -He held by the wall and stamped with the -foot that was not lamed. “Fight—fight—fight! -then eat an ox and drink a cask and go sleep! Ride -abroad whenever you hear of a tourney that’s not -too difficult to enter. Tilt—tilt—tilt! and if you -are not killed or dragged to the barrier, win maybe -prizes enough to keep body and soul together until -you hear of another joust! Between times, eat, -drink, and sleep and have not a thought in your -head! Sprawl in the sun by the keep, or yawn in the -hall, or perhaps hunt a boar until there’s more fighting! -When there is, be dragged from the wall or -smothered in the moat or killed in the breach when -the castle’s taken! Oh aye! Your lord may take his -foe’s castle and you be drunk for a day with victory -and smothering and hanging and slaying on your -part! Yet forecast the day when you’ll drink the -cup you’re giving others! Look at the dice in your -hand and know that if you throw six, yet will you -throw ace!”</p> - -<p>“I may not be always bound to Raimbaut.”</p> - -<p>“He is not old, and hath the strength of a bull!<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_50" id="Page_50">[50]</a></span> -And what of the young Raimbaut? Son grows like -sire—”</p> - -<p>“Even so,” said Garin desperately, “things happen.”</p> - -<p>Foulque’s anger and scorn flowed on. “Oh, I -grant you! Have I forgotten large wars that may -arise—fighting behind your lord for Prince or King -or Emperor? I have not. Cities and great castles -instead of small—thousands to kill and be killed -instead of hundreds—the same thing but more of it! -Still a poor knight—still in the train of Raimbaut -the Six-fingered! The young Raimbaut hath six -fingers also, hath he not?—Oh, you may go crusading, -too, and see strange lands and kill the infidel -who dares have his country spread around the Holy -Sepulchre! Go!—and die of thirst or be slain with -a scimitar, or have your eyes taken out and no new -ones put in! Or, if you can, slay and slay and slay -the infidel! What have you got? Tired arm and -bloody hands and leave to go eat, drink, and sleep! -A crusade! Your crusade enriches one, beggars fifty! -Returns one, keeps the bones of a hundred—”</p> - -<p>“I do not think of taking the cross,” said Garin.</p> - -<p>His brother laughed again with a bitter mirth. -“Well, what’s left? Let’s see! If you can get Raimbaut’s -consent, you might become an errant knight -and go vagabonding through the land! ‘Fair sir, -may I fight thee—all for the glory of valour and -for thy horse and trappings?’—‘Fair dame, having -no business of mine own, may I take thine upon me?<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_51" id="Page_51">[51]</a></span> -Tell me thy grievance, and I will not enquire if it be -founded or no. Nor when, pursuing chivalry, I have -redressed it, will I refuse rich gifts.’—Bah!” cried -Foulque. “I had rather eat, drink, fight, and sleep -with Raimbaut!”</p> - -<p>“Aye,” said Garin; then painfully, “You are picturing -the common run of things. There have been -and there are and there will be true and famous -knights—aye, and learned, who make good poesy -and honour fair ladies, and are courteous and noble -and welcome in every castle hall! I mean not to -be of the baser sort. And those knights I speak of -had, some of them, as meagre a setting forth as -mine—”</p> - -<p>“In <i>romans</i>!” answered Foulque. “You are a fool, -Garin! Take the other road—take the other road!”</p> - -<p>“I’ve made my choice.”</p> - -<p>“Raimbaut the Six-fingered against the Abbot of -Saint Pamphilius, who is close friend to Bishop Ugo, -who is ear and hand to the Pope—”</p> - -<p>“I choose.”</p> - -<p>“Now,” cried Foulque, choking, “by the soul of -our father, little lacks but I call Sicart and Jean and -have you down into the dungeon! You are too untamed—you -are too untamed!”</p> - -<p>“In your dungeon,” said Garin, “I would think, -‘How like is this to abbey cell and cloister!’”</p> - -<p>A silence fell. Only mistral whistled and eddied -around the black tower. Then said Foulque tensely: -“What has come to you? Two nights ago I saw you<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_52" id="Page_52">[52]</a></span> -ready to put your hands in those of Holy Church—” -He broke off, facing the man from the tower top, -framed now in the great door.</p> - -<p>“Horsemen, my masters!” cried the watchman; -“horsemen at the two pines!”</p> - -<p>Foulque flung up his arms. “He is coming! Mayhap -he will work upon you—seeing that a brother -cannot! Let me by—”</p> - -<p>Garin stood at the window watching the abbot -and the twenty with him—ecclesiastical great noble -and his cowled following—stout lay brothers and -abbey serfs well clad and fed—the abbot’s palfrey, -sleek mules and horses—all mounting with a jingle -of bits and creaking of leather, but with a suave lack -of boisterous laughter, whoop, and shout, the grey -zig-zag cut in the crag upon which was perched -Castel-Noir. When they were immediately below -the loophole window, he turned and, leaving the -hall, went to the castle gate and stood beside -Foulque.</p> - -<p>When Abbot Arnaut and his palfrey reached them -he sprang, squire-like, to the stirrup, gave his shoulder -to the abbot’s gloved hand. When the great man -was dismounted, he knelt with his brother for the -lifted fingers and blessing. The abbot was marshalled -across the court to the hall, followed by those -two from Saint Pamphilius whom his nod indicated. -Jean and Sicart disposed of the following. Foulque’s -anxious drill bore fruits; everything went as if oiled.</p> - -<p>Mistral still blew, high, cold and keen. “Have<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_53" id="Page_53">[53]</a></span> -you a fire, kinsman?” cried Abbot Arnaut. “I am -as cold as a merman in the sea!”</p> - -<p>Foulque made haste. The torch was at hand—in -a moment there sprang a blaze—the hangings -from Genoa were all firelit and the great beams of -the roof.</p> - -<p>“Hungry!” cried the abbot. “I am as hungry as -Tantalus in hell! I remember when once I came -here, a boy, good fishing—”</p> - -<p>The fish were good, Pierre’s sauce was good. All -received commendation. The abbot was portly and -tall, with a massy head, with a countenance so -genial, a voice so bland, an eye so approving, that all -appeared nature and no art. His lips seemed made -for golden syllables, he had an unctuous and a mellow -tongue. It was much to hear him speak Latin -and much to hear him discourse in the vernacular. -The <i>langue d’oc</i> came richly from his mouth. He -was a mighty abbot, a gracious power, timber from -which were made papal legates.</p> - -<p>Foulque sat with him at the raised end of the -table, the monks of his company being ranged a foot -lower. But Garin, as was squire-like, waited upon -the great guest and his brother. The abbot, the keen -edge of hunger abated, showed himself gracious and -golden, friendly, almost familiar. He spoke of the -past, and of the father of his hosts. He asked questions -that showed that he knew Castel-Noir, dark -wood and craggy hills, mountains to the north, -stream to the south. It even seemed that he remembered<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_54" id="Page_54">[54]</a></span> -old foresters and bowmen. He knew the -neighbouring fiefs, the disputed ground, the Convent -of Our Lady in Egypt. He was warm and pleasant -with his kinsmen; he said that he had loved their -father and that their mother had been a fair, wise -lady. He remarked that poverty was a sore that -might be salved; and when he had drunk a great cup -of spiced wine,—having, for his health’s sake, a -perpetual dispensation in that wise,—he said that -he was of mind that a man should serve and be -served by his own blood. “Kin may prove faithless, -but unkin beats them to the post!”</p> - -<p>Dinner was eaten, wine drunken, hands washed. -The abbot and Foulque rose, the monks of Saint -Pamphilius rose, the table was cleared, the boards -and trestles taken from the hall.</p> - -<p>Abbot Arnaut, standing by the fire, looked at -the great bed. “By the rood!” he said, “to face -mistral clean from Roche-de-Frêne to this rock is a -wearisome thing! I will repose myself, kinsman, for -one hour.”</p> - -<p>All withdrew save the lay brother whom he retained -for chamberlain. Foulque offered Garin’s service, -who stood with ready hands. But the abbot -was used to Brother Anselm, said as much, and with -a sleepy and mellow voice dismissed the two brothers. -“Return in an hour when I shall be refreshed. Then -will we talk of that of which I wrote.”</p> - -<p>The two left the hall. Without, Foulque must discover -from Jean and Sicart if all went well and the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_55" id="Page_55">[55]</a></span> -abbot’s train was in good humour. “I’ve known a -discontented horse-boy make a prince as discontented!” -But they who followed the abbot were -laughing in the small, bare court, and the bare -ward room. Even mistral did not seem to trouble -them.</p> - -<p>South of the tower, in the angle between it and -the wall, lay the tiniest of grass-plots, upbearing one -tall cypress. Foulque, his mantle close around him, -beckoned hither Garin. Here was a stone seat in the -sun, and the black tower between one and that wind -from the mountains. Foulque sat and argued, Garin -stood with his back against the cypress. The hour -dropped away, and Foulque saw nothing gained. -He shook with wrath and concern for slipping fortunes. -“Since yesterday! This has happened since -yesterday! You took your rod and went down to -the river to fish. What siren sang to you from what -pool?”</p> - -<p>Garin lifted his head. “No siren. Something wakened -within me, and now I will be neither monk nor -priest. I am sorry to grieve you, Foulque.”</p> - -<p>But Foulque nursed his wrath. “The hour has -passed,” he said. “So we go back to the abbot and -spurn a rich offer!” He rose and with a bleak face -left the grass-plot.</p> - -<p>Garin followed, but not immediately. He stood, -beneath the cypress tree and tried to see his life. -He could not do so; he could only tell that his -heart was parted between sorrow and joy, and<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_56" id="Page_56">[56]</a></span> -that a nightingale sang and sang. He could tell -that he wished to live beautifully, to do noble deeds, -to win honour, to serve, if need be to die for, a goddess -whose face was veiled. His life whirled; at once -he felt generous, wealthy, and great, and poor, -humble, and despairing. He seemed to see through -drifting mists a Great Meaning; then the cloud thickened -and he was only Garin, Raimbaut’s squire—then -again images and music, then aching sadness. -He stood with parted lips, beneath the cypress, and -he looked south. At last he sighed and covered his -eyes with his hand, then turned and went back to -the hall.</p> - -<p>The abbot was awake, had left the great bed and -come to the great chair. Seated at ease in the light -of the renewed fire, he was goldenly discoursing to -Foulque who sat on a stool, of Roche-de-Frêne and -its prince and his court, and of Bishop Ugo. “Ah, the -great chances in the fair lap of Mother Church! -Ugo is ambitious. There it is that we differ. I am -not ambitious—no, no! I am an easy soul, and -but take things as they come my way!” He turned -in his chair and looked at Garin standing behind his -brother. “Ha!” he said, “and this is the squire who -would become canon?”</p> - -<p>Foulque groaned. “Most Reverend Father, the -boy is mad! I think that he is bewitched. I pray that -of your goodness, wisdom and eloquence you bring -him to a right mind—”</p> - -<p>The Abbot of Saint Pamphilius smiled, assured<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_57" id="Page_57">[57]</a></span> -as the sun. “What is it? Does he think that already -he has Fortune for mistress?”</p> - -<p>“He will choose knighthood,” said Foulque. “He -has no doubt of winning it.”</p> - -<p>The abbot lifted his brows. He looked with dignity -into the fire, then back at Foulque and at Garin -the squire. “It pains me,” he said, “the folly of -mankind! Are you born prince, count or baron, then -in reason, you must run the course where you are -set. Though indeed, time out of mind, have been -found castellans, vavasours, barons, dukes, and -princes who have laid aside hauberk, shield, and -banner, and blithely come with all their wealth into -the peaceful hive of Holy Church—so rightly could -they weigh great value against low! But such as you, -young man—but such as you—poor liegemen of -poor lords! What would you have? Verily, the folly -is deep! By no means all who would have knighthood -gain it, and if it is gained, what then? Another -poor knight in a world where they are as thick and -undistinguishable as locusts!—Ha, what do you -say?”</p> - -<p>Garin’s lips had moved, but now he flushed red.</p> - -<p>“Speak out!” commanded the abbot, blandly -imperious. “What was it that you said?”</p> - -<p>Garin lowered his eyes. “I said that there were -many churchmen in the world, as thick and undistinguishable—”</p> - -<p>Foulque drew a dismayed breath. But the Abbot -of Saint Pamphilius laughed. He sat well back in his<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_58" id="Page_58">[58]</a></span> -chair and looked at the squire with freshened interest. -“Granted, Bold Wit! The point is this. Did -you show me here the signet ring, not—God defend -us!—of Raimbaut the Six-fingered, but of Raimbaut’s -lord and yours, Savaric of Montmaure, then -would I say, ‘So you have your patron! Good fortune, -fair kinsman, who are half-way up the ladder!’” -He looked at the squire and laughed. “You have it -not by you, I think?” Garin shook his head. “Well -then,” said the abbot, “choose Holy Church. For -here, I think,”—he spoke very goldenly,—“you -may show a patron. A feeble one, my son—of -course, a feeble one—”</p> - -<p>Garin came from behind Foulque, kneeled before -the abbot, and thanked him for great kindness and -condescension. “But, Reverend Father, with all -gratefulness and humbleness, yet I will not the -tonsure—”</p> - -<p>The abbot with a gesture kept him kneeling. -“There is some reason here that you hide. You are -young, you are young! I guess that your reason goes -by name of woman—”</p> - -<p>Garin knelt silent, but Foulque uttered an exclamation. -“No, Reverend Father, no! What has -changed him I know not, but it has happened here -at Castel-Noir, since yesterday! There is no woman -here, in hut or tower, that could tempt him—”</p> - -<p>But the Abbot of Saint Pamphilius continued to -gaze upon Garin, and to tap gently with his fingers -upon the arm of the great chair. “I hold not,” he<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_59" id="Page_59">[59]</a></span> -said softly, “with those who would condone concubinage, -and who see no harm in a too fair cousin, -niece, or servant in priests’ dwellings. It is all sin—it -is all sin—and Holy Church must reprobate—yea, -must chastise. But flesh is weak, my son, -flesh is weak! Somewhat may be compounded—somewhat -overlooked—somewhat pardoned! Especially, -if not solely, in the case of those whose service -is great. As for courtly love—” The abbot -smiled. “When you come to courtly love,” he said, -“there are many lordly churchmen have praised -fair ladies!—Do I resolve your scruples, my -son?”</p> - -<p>But Garin’s look showed no shaken determination. -The abbot leaned back in his chair. “The time grows -tender,” he said. “Womanish and tender! Your -father would have known how to bring you to reason. -Your grandfather would have disposed of you like -any Roman of old. But now any sir squire is let to -say, ‘I will’—or ‘I will not!’—Think not that I -wish him about me who is sullen and intractable! -Nor that I lack other kinsmen who are pleaders -for that kindness I would have shown Castel-Noir! -There is young Enric, Bernart’s son—and there -are others.—Rise and begone to Raimbaut the Six-fingered’s -keep!”</p> - -<p>Garin stood up. Foulque made to speak, but the -abbot waved the matter down.</p> - -<p>“All is said. It is a trifle, and we will disturb ourselves -no further. God knows, ungrateful young men<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_60" id="Page_60">[60]</a></span> -are no rarity! Doubtless he hath, after all, Montmaure’s -signet—What is it now?”</p> - -<p>Into the hall, from the court without, had come a -sound of trampling hoofs and of voices—one voice -sullen and heavy. Garin started violently, Foulque -sprang to his feet. The great door was flung open, -admitting a burst of wind that shook the hangings, -and behind it, Sicart open-mouthed and breathless.</p> - -<p>“Master, master! here is Lord Raimbaut!”</p> - -<hr class="chap" /> - -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_61" id="Page_61">[61]</a></span></p> - -<div class="chapter"> - -<h2 class="p4"><a name="c61" id="c61">CHAPTER V</a></h2> - -<p class="pch">RAIMBAUT THE SIX-FINGERED</p> - -<p class="pn"><span class="smcap">A lord</span> might of course visit one who held from -him, often did so. But it was not Raimbaut’s use to -ride to Castel-Noir. And Garin, parting from him -less than a week ago, had heard no word of his -coming.</p> - -<p>But here he was, pushing Sicart aside, striding -into the hall, a low-browed, thick-skulled giant, -savage with his foes, dull and grudging with his -friends—Raimbaut the Six-fingered! Foulque hastened -to do him reverence, make him welcome; -Garin, stepping to his side, took from him his wide, -rust-hued mantle and furred cap.</p> - -<p>“Well met, my Lord Raimbaut!” said the abbot -in his golden tones.</p> - -<p>Raimbaut gloomed upon him. “Ha, Lord Abbot! -Are you here for this springald, my esquire? Well, -I have said that you might have him.”</p> - -<p>“Nay,” said the abbot mellowly, “I think that I -want him not.”</p> - -<p>“—have him,” pursued Raimbaut. “And likewise -his quarrel with Savaric of Montmaure.”</p> - -<p>He spoke with a deep, growling voice, as of an -angered mastiff, and as he spoke turned like one<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_62" id="Page_62">[62]</a></span> -upon Garin. “Why, by every fiend in hell, did you -fight a Tuesday, with his son?”</p> - -<p>Garin stared. He heard Foulque’s distressed -exclamation, saw the abbot purse his lips, but beyond -all that he had a vision of a forest glade and -heard a clash of steel. He drew breath. “Was he -that knight in crimson? Was that Jaufre de Montmaure?”</p> - -<p>Raimbaut doubled his fist and advanced it. Before -this Garin had come to earth beneath his lord’s -buffet. He awaited it now, standing as squarely as -he might. He was aware that Raimbaut had for him -a kind of thwart liking—a liking that made, in -Raimbaut’s mind, no reason why he should not -strike when angry. It was not the expected blow -that set Garin’s mind whirling. But Jaufre de Montmaure! -To his knowledge he had never, until that -Tuesday, seen that same Jaufre. But he knew of -him, oh, knew of him! Montmaure was a great -count, overlord of towns and many castles. In -Garin’s world Savaric of Montmaure was only -less than Gaucelm of Roche-de-Frêne—Gaucelm -the Fortunate from whom Savaric held certain fiefs. -Immediately, Montmaure loomed larger than Roche-de-Frêne, -for Raimbaut the Six-fingered owed direct -fealty to Montmaure and in war must furnish a -hundred men-at-arms.</p> - -<p>Garin knew of the young count, Sir Jaufre. He -knew that Jaufre had been long time in Italy, at -the court where his mother was born, but that now<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_63" id="Page_63">[63]</a></span> -he was looked for home again. He knew that he -had fought boldly in sieges of cities, and in tournaments -was acclaimed brave and fortunate. Perhaps -Garin had dreamed of his own chance coming -to him by way of Montmaure—perhaps he had -dreamed of somehow recommending himself to this -same Jaufre. That gibe of the abbot’s about the -signet ring had struck from the squire an answering -thought, “Some day I may—” Now came the reversal, -now Garin felt a faintness, an icy fall. He -was young and in a thousand ways, unfree. For a -day and a night his conscious being had strained -high. Now there came a dull subsidence, a slipping -toward the abyss. “Jaufre de Montmaure!”</p> - -<p>Raimbaut did not deliver the meditated blow—too -angered and concerned was Raimbaut to dispense -slight tokens. He let his hand drop, but -ground beneath his heavy foot the rushes on the -floor. “I would I had had you chained in the pit -below the dungeon before I let you go to Roche-de-Frêne!” -He turned on Foulque who stood, grey-faced -and dry-lipped. “Knew you what this fool -did?”</p> - -<p>Foulque struck his hands together. “He told me -that eve. He did not know and I did not know—He -thought it might be some wandering knight—Ah, -my Lord Raimbaut, as we owe you service, so -do you owe us protection!”</p> - -<p>Raimbaut strode up and down, heavy and black -as his own ancient donjon. “Comes to me yestereve,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_64" id="Page_64">[64]</a></span> -as formal as you please, a herald from Montmaure! -‘Hark and hear,’ says he, puffing out his cheeks, ‘to -what befell our young lord, Sir Jaufre, riding through -the forest called La Belle, and for some matter or -other sending a good way ahead those that rode with -him. Came a squire out of the wood, drunken and, -as it were, mad, and with him, plain to be seen, a -stark fiend! Then did the two fall upon Sir Jaufre -from behind and forced him to fight, and by necromancy -overthrew and wounded him, and, ignobly -and villainously, bound him to a tree. Which, when -they had done, they vanished. And straightway his -men found him and brought him home. And now -that fiend may perchance not be found, but assuredly -the man may be discovered! When he is, for -his foul pride, treason, and wizardry, the Count of -Montmaure will flay him alive and nail him head -downward to a tree.’”</p> - -<p>Mistral sent into the hall a withering blast. The -smoke from the fire blew out and went here and -there in wreaths. It set the abbot coughing. Raimbaut -the Six-fingered continued his striding up and -down. “Then he puffs his cheeks out and says on, -and wits me to know that Savaric of Montmaure -calls on every man that owes him fealty to discover—an -he is known to them—that churl and misdoer. -And thereupon,” ended Raimbaut on a note -of thunder, “to my face he describes Garin my -esquire!”</p> - -<p>Garin stood silent, but Foulque panted hard.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_65" id="Page_65">[65]</a></span> -“Ah, thou unhappy! Ah, the end of Castel-Noir! -Ah, my Lord Raimbaut, have we not been faithful -liegemen?” He caught his brother by the arm. -“Kneel, Garin—and I will kneel—”</p> - -<p>But Garin did not kneel. He stood young, -straight, pale with indignation. “Brother and Reverend -Father and my Lord Raimbaut,” he cried, -“never in my life had I to do with a fiend! Nor -was I drunken nor without sense! Nor did I come -upon him from behind! Does he say that, then -am I more glad than I was that I brought him fairly -to the earth and, because of his own treachery, tied -him to a tree and bound his hands with his stirrup -leather—”</p> - -<p>Raimbaut, in his striding up and down being close -to his squire, turned upon him at this and delivered -the buffet. It brought Garin, hand and knee, upon -the rushes, but he rose with lightness. Raimbaut, -striding on by, came to the abbot, who, having -ended coughing, sat, double chin on hand and foot -in furred slipper, tapping the floor. He stopped -short, feudal lord beside as massive ecclesiastic. -“The Church says it is her part to counsel! Out then -with good counsel!”</p> - -<p>The abbot looked at him aslant, then spoke with -a golden voice. “Did you tell the count’s herald -that it was your esquire?”</p> - -<p>“Not I! I said that it had a sound of Aimeric of -the Forest’s men.” Aimeric of the Forest was a lord -with whom Raimbaut was wont to wage private war.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_66" id="Page_66">[66]</a></span></p> - -<p>The abbot murmured “Ah!” then, “Did any in -your castle betray him?”</p> - -<p>“No,” said Raimbaut. “Only Guilhelm, and -Hugonet heard surely and knew for certain. Six-fingered -we may be and rude, but we wait a bit before -we give our esquires to other men’s deaths!” -Again he covered with his stride the space before the -wide hearth. He was as huge as a boar and as grim, -but a certain black tenseness and danger seemed to -go out of the air of the hall. Turning, he again faced -the abbot. “So I think, now the best wit that I can -find is to say ‘Aye’ twice where I have already said -it once, and speed this same Garin the fighter into -Church’s fold! Let him as best he may convoy himself -to the Abbey of Saint Pamphilius. There he may -be turned at once into Brother Such-an-one. So -he will be as safe and hid as if he were in Heaven -and Our Lady drooped her mantle over him. By -degrees Montmaure may forget, or he may flay the -wrong man—”</p> - -<p>The abbot covered his mouth with his hand and -looked into the blaze that mistral drove this way -and that. Foulque came close, with a haggard, -wrinkling face; but Garin, having risen from Raimbaut’s -buffet, made no other motion.</p> - -<p>The abbot dropped his hand and spoke. “Do you -not know that last year the Count of Montmaure -became Advocate and Protector of the Abbey of -Saint Pamphilius? As little as Lord Raimbaut do I -will openly to offend Count Savaric.”</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_67" id="Page_67">[67]</a></span></p> - -<p>“‘Openly,’” cried Foulque. “Ah, Reverend -Father, it would not be ‘openly’—”</p> - -<p>But Abbot Arnaut shook his head. “I know your -‘secret help,’” he said goldenly. “It is that which -most in this world getteth simple and noble, lay and -cleric, into trouble!” He spread his hands. “Moreover, -our Squire-who-fights-knights hath just declined -the tonsure.”</p> - -<p>“Hath he so?” exclaimed Raimbaut. “He is the -more to my liking!—So the abbot will let Count -Savaric take him?”</p> - -<p>The abbot put his fingers together. “I will do -nothing,” he said, “that will imperil the least interest -of Holy Mother Church. I will never act to the -endangering of one small ornament upon her robe.”</p> - -<p>Raimbaut made a sound like the grunt of a boar. -Foulque covered his face with his hands.</p> - -<p>“But,” pursued the abbot, “kin is kin, and in the -little, narrow lane that is left me I will do what I -can!” He spoke to Raimbaut. “Has Count Savaric -bands out in search of him?”</p> - -<p>“Aye. They will look here as elsewhere.”</p> - -<p>Garin stood forth. Above his eye was a darkening -mark, sign of Raimbaut’s buffet. It was there, but -it did not depreciate something else which was likewise -there and which, for the moment, made of his -whole body a symbol, enduing it to an extent with -visible bloom, apparent power. For many hours there -had been an inward glowing. But heretofore to-day, -what with Foulque and Abbot Arnaut and disputes,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_68" id="Page_68">[68]</a></span> -anxieties, and preoccupation, it had been somewhat -pushed away, stifled under. Now it burst forth, to -be seen and felt by others, though not understood. -Anger and outrage at that knight’s false accusation -helped it forth. And—though Garin himself did -not understand this—that glade in the forest -toward Roche-de-Frêne, and that lawn of the poplar, -the plane, and the cedar by the Convent of Our -Lady in Egypt, that Tuesday and that Thursday, -came somehow into contact, embraced, reinforced -each the other. Aware, or unaware, in his conscious -or in his unconscious experience, there was present a -deep and harmonious vibration, an expansion and -intensification of being. Something of this came outward -and crossed space, to the others’ apprehension. -They felt bloom and they felt beauty, and they -stared at him strangely, as though he were palely -demigod.</p> - -<p>He spoke. “Brother Foulque and Lord Raimbaut -and Reverend Father, let me cut this knot! I must -leave Castel-Noir and leave my Lord Raimbaut’s -castle, and I must take my leave without delay. -That is plain. Plain, too, that I must not go in this -green and brown that I wore when I fought him! -Sicart can find me serf’s clothing. When it is night, I -will quit Castel-Noir, and I will lie in the fir wood, -near the little shrine, five miles west of here. In the -morning you, Reverend Father, pass with your -train. The help that Foulque and I ask is that you -will let me join the Abbey people. They have<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_69" id="Page_69">[69]</a></span> -scarcely seen me—Sicart shall cut my hair and -darken my face—they will not know me. But do -you, of your charity, bid one of the brothers take me -up behind him. Let me overtravel in safe company -sufficient leagues to put me out of instant clutch of -Count Savaric and that noble knight, Sir Jaufre! -I will leave you short of the Abbey of Saint Pamphilius.”</p> - -<p>“And where then, Garin, where then?” cried -Foulque.</p> - -<p>“I will go,” said Garin, “toward Toulouse and -Foix and Spain. Give me, Foulque, what money -you can. I will go in churl’s guise until I am out and -away from Montmaure’s reach. Then in some town -I will get me a fit squire’s dress. If you can give me -enough to buy a horse—very good will that be!” -He lifted and stretched his arms—a gesture that -ordinarily he would not have used in the presence -of elder brother, lord, or churchman. “Ah!” cried -Garin, “then will I truly begin life—how, I know -not now, but I will begin it! Moreover, I will live -it, in some fashion, well!”</p> - -<p>The three elder men still stared at him. Mature -years, advantageous place, bulked large indeed in -their day. A young Daniel might be very wise, but -was he not <i>young</i>? A squire might propose the -solution of a riddle, but it were unmannerly for the -squire to take credit; a mouse might gnaw the lion’s -net, but the mouse remained mouse, and the lion -lion. The Abbot of Saint Pamphilius, and Raimbaut<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_70" id="Page_70">[70]</a></span> -the Six-fingered, and Foulque the elder brother -looked doubtfully at Garin. But the air of bloom -and light and power held long enough. They devised -no better plan, and, for the time at least, their minds -subdued themselves and put away anger and ceased -to consider rebuke.</p> - -<p>Raimbaut spoke. “I give you leave. I have not -been a bad lord to you.”</p> - -<p>His squire looked at him with shining eyes. “No, -lord, you have not. I thank you for much. And -some day if I may I will return good for good, and -pay the service that I owe!”</p> - -<p>Foulque the Cripple limped from the hearth to a -chest by the wall, unlocked it with a key hanging -from his belt, and took out a bag of soft leather—a -small bag and a lank. He turned with it. “You -shall have wherewith to fit you out. Escape harm -now, little brother! But when the wind has ceased -to blow, come back—”</p> - -<p>The abbot seemed to awake from a dream, and, -awakening, became golden and expansive even beyond -his wont. “You hear him say himself that -he has no vocation.... Nay, if he begins so early -by overthrowing knights he may be called, who -knoweth? to become a column and pattern of chivalry! -I will bring him safe out of the immediate -clutch of danger.”</p> - -<p>An hour, and Raimbaut departed, and none outside -the hall of Castel-Noir knew aught but that, -hunting a stag, he had come riding that way. The<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_71" id="Page_71">[71]</a></span> -sun set, and the abbot and his following had supper -and Garin served his brother and Abbot Arnaut. -Afterwards, it was said about the place that the -company—having a long way to make—would ride -away before dawn. So, after a few hours sleep, all -did arise by torchlight and ate a hasty breakfast, -and the horses and mules and the abbot’s palfrey -stamped in the courtyard. Mistral was dead and the -air cool, still, and dark. The swung torches confused -shadow and substance. In the trampling and neighing -and barking of dogs, clamour and shifting of -shapes, it went unnoticed that only Foulque was -there to bid farewell to the abbot and kinsman.</p> - -<p>In the early night, under the one cypress between -the tower and the wall, Foulque and Garin had said -farewell. The light was gone from about Garin; he -seemed but a youth, poor and stricken, fleeing before -a very actual danger. The two brothers embraced. -They shed tears, for in their time men wept when -they felt like doing so. They commended each other -to God and Our Lady and all the saints, and they -parted, not knowing if ever they would see each -other again.</p> - -<p>The abbot and his company wound down the zig-zag -road and turned face toward the distant Abbey -of Saint Pamphilius. Riding westward they came -into the fir wood. The sun was at the hill-tops, when -they overtook a limping pedestrian,—a youth in a -coarse and worn dress, with shoes of poor leather -and leggings of bark bound with thongs, and with a<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_72" id="Page_72">[72]</a></span> -caped hood that obscured his features. Questioned, -he said that his father sowed grain and reaped it for -Castel-Noir, but that he had an uncle who was a -dyer and lived beyond Albi. His uncle was an old -man and had somewhat to leave and his father had -got permission for him to go on a visit—and he had -hurt his foot. With that he looked wistfully at the -horse of the lay brother who had summoned him to -the abbot.</p> - -<p>“Saint Gilles!” exclaimed the abbot, and he spoke -loud and goldenly. “It were a long way to hop to -Albi! Not a day but I strive to plant one kindly -deed—Take him up, my son, behind thee!”</p> - -<hr class="chap" /> - -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_73" id="Page_73">[73]</a></span></p> - -<div class="chapter"> - -<h2 class="p4"><a name="c73" id="c73">CHAPTER VI</a></h2> - -<p class="pch">THE GARDEN</p> - -<p class="pn"><span class="smcap">The</span> Abbot of Saint Pamphilius and Garin the -squire rode westward—that is to say they rode -away from the busy town of Roche-de-Frêne; the -cathedral, where, atop the mounting tower, trowel -clinked against stone; the bishop’s palace, where, -that morning Ugo wrote a letter to Pope Alexander; -and the vast castle with Gaucelm the Fortunate’s -banner above it.</p> - -<p>Roche-de-Frêne dyed with scarlet second only to -that of Montpellier. It wove fine stuffs, its saddlers -were known for their work, it made good weapons. -Rome had left it a ruined amphitheatre—not so -large as that at Arles, but large enough to house a -trade. Here was the quarter of the moulders of -candles. A fair wine was made in the country roundabout, -brought to Roche-de-Frêne and sold, and -thence sold again. It was a mart likewise for great, -creamy-flanked cattle. They came in droves over -the bridge that crossed the river and were sold and -bought without the walls, in the long, poplar-streaked -field where was held the yearly fair.</p> - -<p>It was not a free town—not yet. Time was when -its people had been serfs wholly, chattels and thralls -completely of the lords who built the great castle.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_74" id="Page_74">[74]</a></span> -Less than a hundred years ago that was still largely -true. Then had entered small beginnings, fragmentary -privileges, rights of trade, commutations, market -grants. These had increased; every decade saw a -little freedom filched. Lords must have wealth, and -the craftsmen and traders made it; money-rent -entered in place of old obediences. Silver paid off -body-service. Skill increased, and the number of -wares made, and commerce in them. Wealth increased. -The town grew bolder and consciously -strove for small liberties. Roche-de-Frêne was different -now indeed from the old times when it had been -wholly servile. It was growing with the strong -twelfth century. All manner of ideas entered its -head.</p> - -<p>Gaucelm the Fortunate’s father had been Gaucelm -the Crusader, Gaucelm of the Star. Certain of the -ideas of the burghers of Roche-de-Frêne had been -approved by this prince. Others found themselves -stingingly rebuked. One of Roche-de-Frêne’s concepts -of its own good might flourish in court favour, -a second just exist like grass under a stone, wan and -sere, a third encounter all the forces of extirpation. -In the main Gaucelm of the Star bore hardly against -the struggle for liberty. But at the last he took the -cross, and needing moneys so that he might go to -Jerusalem with great array, granted “privileges.” -After three years he returned from Palestine and -granted no more. He died and Gaucelm the Fortunate -reigned. For five years he fought the ideas<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_75" id="Page_75">[75]</a></span> -of Roche-de-Frêne. Then he changed, almost in a -night-time, and granted almost more than was -asked. His barons and knights stared and wondered; -Gaucelm was no weakling. Roche-de-Frêne -sat down to digest and assimilate what it had -gained. The town was no more radical than it -thought reasonable. The meal was sufficient for -the time being. There began a string of quiet -years.</p> - -<p>The bishop’s palace stood a long building, with -wings at right angles. Before it spread a flagged -place, and in the middle of this a fountain jetted, -the water streaming from dolphins’ jaws. In old -times the bishops of Roche-de-Frêne had been -mightier than its ravening, war-shredded lords. -Then had arisen the great line that built the castle -and subdued the fiefs and turned from baron to -prince and outweighed the bishops. The fountain, -shifting its spray as the wind blew, had seen a-many -matters, a-many ambitions rise and fall and rise -again.</p> - -<p>The fountain streamed and the spray shifted this -autumn, while the trees turned to gold and bronze -and the grapes were gathered, and through the -country-side bare feet of peasants trod the wine-press, -and over the bridge in droves lowed the cream-hued -cattle. It rose and fell time before and time -after that feast-day on which the squire Garin had -knelt in the cathedral dusk between the Palestine -pillars, before Our Lady of Roche-de-Frêne in blue<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_76" id="Page_76">[76]</a></span> -samite and a gemmy crown. It streamed and -sparkled on a sunny morning when Bishop Ugo, -bound for the castle, behind him a secretary and -other goodly following, checked his white mule beside -the basin and blessed the lounging folk who -sank upon their knees.</p> - -<p>The process consumed no great while. Ugo was -presently riding up the town’s chief street, a thoroughfare -that marked the ridge pole of the hill of -Roche-de-Frêne. People were abroad, and as he -passed they did him reverence. He was a great -churchman, who could hurt or help them, soul and -body, here and hereafter! But at a quieter corner, -before a pile of old, dark buildings, he came upon, -and that so closely that his mantle almost brushed -them, a man and two women, poorly dressed, who -stood without movement or appeal for blessing. -Had they been viewed at a distance, noted merely -for three stony units in a bending crowd, the -bishop had been too superb to notice, but here -they were under his nose, unreverent, stocks before -his eyes, their own eyes gazing as though he -were not!</p> - -<p>Ugo checked his mule, spoke sharply. “Why, -shameless ones, do you not bend to Holy Church, -her councillors and seneschals?”</p> - -<p>The man spoke. “We bend to God.”</p> - -<p>“To God within,” said one of the women. “Not -to ill within—not to luxury, pomp, and tyranny!”</p> - -<p>“Woe!” cried the other woman, the younger.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_77" id="Page_77">[77]</a></span> -“Woe when the hearth no longer warms, but -destroys!”</p> - -<p>“<i>Bougres</i>,” spoke the secretary at his master’s ear. -“Paulicians, Catharists, <i>Bons hommes</i>, Perfecti, -Manichees.”</p> - -<p>“That is to say, heretics,” said Ugo. “They grow -hideously bold, having Satan for saviour and surety! -Take order for these. Lodge complaint against them. -See them laid fast in prison.”</p> - -<p>The younger woman looked at him earnestly. -“Ah, ah!” she said. “Thou poor prisoner! Let me -whisper thee—there is a way out of thy dark hold! -If only the door is not too high and wide and fully -open for thine eyes to see it!”</p> - -<p>“They are not of Roche-de-Frêne,” spoke the -secretary. “I warrant them from Toulouse or -Albi!”</p> - -<p>“I, and more than I, have eyes upon Count -Raymond of Toulouse,” said the bishop. “Two or -three of you take these wretches to the right officer. -And do thou, Nicholas, appear against them to-morrow.”</p> - -<p>He touched his mule with his riding switch and -rode on, a dark-browed man, with a thin cheek and -thin, close-shutting lips. He was a martial bishop; -he had fought in Sicily and at Damascus and Edessa, -and at Constantinople.</p> - -<p>The street ran steeply upward, closing where, in -the autumn day, there spread and towered the castle. -Ugo, approaching moat and drawbridge, put<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_78" id="Page_78">[78]</a></span> -with a customary action his hand over his lips and so -regarded outer and inner walls, the southward-facing -barbican and the towers that flanked it,—Lion -Tower and Red Tower. Men-at-arms in number -lounged within the gate, straightening when the -warder cried the bishop’s train. Ugo took his hand -from his lips and crossed the hollow-sounding bridge. -He rode beneath the portcullis and through the deep, -reverberating, vaulted passage opening on either -hand into Lion Tower and Red Tower, and so came -to the court of dismounting, where esquires and -pages started into activity. From here he was marshalled, -the secretary and a couple of canons behind -him, to the Court of Honour, where met him other -silken pages.</p> - -<p>They bowed before him. “Lord Bishop, our great -ones are gathered in the garden, harkening to troubadours.”</p> - -<p>One of higher authority came and took the word -from them. “My lord, I will lead you to where these -rossignols are singing! They sing in honour of ladies, -and of the court’s guest, the duke from Italy who -would marry our princess!”</p> - -<p>They moved through a noble, great hall, bare of -all folk but doorkeepers.</p> - -<p>“Will the match be made?” asked Ugo.</p> - -<p>“We do not know,” answered his conductor. -“Our Lady Alazais favours it. But we do not know -the mind of Prince Gaucelm.”</p> - -<p>Ugo walked in silence. His own mind was granting<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_79" id="Page_79">[79]</a></span> -with anger the truth of that. Presently he spoke in -a measured voice. “If it be made, it will be a fair -alliance. Undoubtedly a good marriage! For say -that to our sorrow Prince Gaucelm hath never a son -of his own, then it may come that his daughter’s son -rule that duchy and this land.”</p> - -<p>“Dame Alazais,” said the other in a tone of discreetness, -“hath been six years a wife. The last -pilgrimage brought naught, but the next may -serve.”</p> - -<p>“Pray Our Lady it may!” answered Ugo with lip-devoutness, -“and so Gaucelm the Fortunate become -more fortunate yet.—The Princess Audiart hath -been from home.”</p> - -<p>“Aye, at Our Lady in Egypt’s. But she is returned, -the prince having sent for her. Hark! -Raimon de Saint-Rémy is singing.”</p> - -<p>There was to be heard, indeed, a fine, manly voice -coming from where, through an arched exit, they -now had a glimpse of foliage and sky. It sang loudly -and boldly, a chanson of the best, a pæan to woman’s -lips and throat and breast, a proud, determined -declaration of slavery, a long, melodious cry for mistress -mercy.</p> - -<p>The bishop stood still to listen. “Ha!” he said, -“many a song like that does my Lady Alazais hear!”</p> - -<p>“Just,” answered his companion. “When they -look on her they begin to sing.”</p> - -<p>Moving forward they stood within the door that -gave upon the garden. It lay before them, a velvet<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_80" id="Page_80">[80]</a></span> -sward enclosed by walls, with a high watch-tower -pricked against the eastern heavens.</p> - -<p>“It is a great pity,” said Ugo guardedly, “that -the young princess stands so very far from her stepdame’s -loveliness!”</p> - -<p>“Aye, the court holds it a pity.”</p> - -<p>“The prince hath an extraordinary affection -toward her.”</p> - -<p>“As great as if she were a son! She hath wit to -please him,—though,” said he who acted usher, -“she doth not please every one.”</p> - -<p>They passed a screen of fruit trees and came upon -a vision first of formal paths with grass, flowers, and -aromatic herbs between, then of a wide raised space, -stage or dais, of the smoothest turf that ever was. -It had a backing of fruit trees, and behind these of -grey wall and parapet, and it was attained by shallow -steps of stone. On these, and on low seats and -cushions and on banks of turf, sat or half-reclined -men and women, for the most part youthful or in -the prime of life. Others stood; others, men and -women, away from the raised part, strolled through -the garden that here was formal and here maintained -a studied rusticity. The men wore neither -armour nor weapons, save, maybe, a dagger. Men -and women were very richly dressed, for even where -was perpetual state, this was an occasion.</p> - -<p>In a greater space than a confined castle garden -they would not have seemed so many; as it was there -appeared a throng. In reality there might be a hundred<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_81" id="Page_81">[81]</a></span> -souls. The castle was as populous as an ant-heap, -but here was only the garland of the castle. -The duke who was seeking a mate had with him the -very spice-pink of his own court. He and they were -of the garden. The festival that was made for him -had drawn neighbouring barons and knights, vassals -of Gaucelm. There was no time when such a -court failed to entertain travellers of note, wandering -knights, envoys of sorts, lords going in state to -Italy on the one hand, to France or Spain or England -on the other. Of such birds of passage several were -in the garden. And there were troubadours of more -than local fame, poets so great that they travelled -with their own servants and jongleurs. When the -bishop came with two canons in his train there were -churchmen. And, moving or seated, glowed bright -dames and damosels.</p> - -<p>But in the centre sat Alazais, and she seemed, -indeed, of Venus’s meinie. She was a fair beauty, -with deep-red, perfect lips, and a curve of cheek and -throat to make men tremble. Her long brown eyes, -set well apart, had a trick of always looking from -between half-shut lids. Her limbs spoke the same -languor, and yet she had strength, strength, it -seemed, of a pard or a great serpent. She was not -pard and she was not serpent; she was not evil. She -was—Alazais, and they all sang to her. Even -though they did not name her name; even though -they used other names.</p> - -<p>There were four chairs of state, though not set<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_82" id="Page_82">[82]</a></span> -arow. Only two were occupied—that in which sat -ivory-and-gold Alazais, and that in which sat the -duke who had come to view Prince Gaucelm’s -daughter. The duke sat over against Alazais, with -a strip of green grass between. He was not beautiful: -he had a shrunk form and a narrow, weazened face. -But he stared at the beauty before him, and a slight -shiver went through him with a fine prickling. -“Madonna!” he thought. “If the other were his -wife, and this his daughter!”</p> - -<p>Ugo came to the green level. Alazais rose to greet -him and the duke followed her. He had informed -himself in the politics of Roche-de-Frêne: he knew -that though now there was peace between prince -and bishop, it had not always been so and might not -be so again. The duke was no great statesman, but -to every one, at the moment, he was as smooth as an -innate, cross-grained imperiousness would let him -be. A fair seat was found for my lord bishop, -the two canons and the secretary standing behind -him.</p> - -<p>“Ah, my lord,” said Alazais, “you are good to -grace our idle time! Our poets have sung and will -sing again, and then myself and all these ladies are -pledged to judge of a great matter. Sir Gilles de -Valence, what is the matter?”</p> - -<p>The troubadour addressed bent the knee. “Princess, -the history of Madame Dido, and if she were -not the supremest servant of Love who would not -survive, not the death but the leave-taking of her<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_83" id="Page_83">[83]</a></span> -knight, Messire Æneas, but made a pyre and burned -herself thereon! And of her example, as lover, to fair -ladies, and if they should not, emulating her,—in -a manner of figure and not, most fair, with actual -flames!—withdraw themselves, as it were, from -being and existence throughout the time that flows -between the leave-taking and coming again of their -knights. And of Messire Æneas, and if Love truly -had him in bonds.”</p> - -<p>“Truly, a fair matter!” said Ugo, with hidden -scorn. “Here are the prince and the Princess Audiart!”</p> - -<p>Dais and garden broke off their talk, turned with -a flash of colour and a bending movement toward -the lord of the land.</p> - -<p>Gaucelm the Fortunate came upon the scene with -an easy quietness. He was a large man, wearing a -<i>bliaut</i> of dark silk, richly belted, and around his -hair, that was a silvering brown, a fillet or circlet of -gold. There breathed about him something easy, -humorous, wise. He did not talk much, but what he -said was to the purpose. Now he had a profound -and brooding look, and now his eye twinkled. In -small things he gave way; where he saw it his part -to be firm he was firm enough. Though he listened -to many, the many did not for ever see their way -taken. He may have been religious, but he exhibited -little or nothing of his time’s religiosity. He had a -stilly way of liking the present minute and putting -much into it. He did not laugh too easily, but yet<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_84" id="Page_84">[84]</a></span> -he seemed to find amusement in odd corners where -none else looked for it. He was not fond of state, but -relaxed it when he could, yet kept dignity. He came -now into the castle garden with but a few attending, -and beside him, step for step, moved the young princess, -his daughter Audiart.</p> - -<hr class="chap" /> - -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_85" id="Page_85">[85]</a></span></p> - -<div class="chapter"> - -<h2 class="p4"><a name="c85" id="c85">CHAPTER VII</a></h2> - -<p class="pch">THE UGLY PRINCESS</p> - -<p class="pn"><span class="smcap">She</span> had a way of dressing, for preference, in dark -hues, reds like wine or the deeper parts of rubies, -blues like the ripened bunches between the vineyard -leaves, browns like a Martinmas wood. To-day she -wore the latter hue. Around her head was a golden -fillet, but no other tire. She wore to-day no Eastern -veil, nor did her long, dark hair, securely braided, -give shadow to her face. Her shape was good, a -slender shape, endued with nervous strength. But -her face showed plain, dark, and thin, intelligent, -but with features irregular beyond the ordinary. -The Court of Roche-de-Frêne, beneath its breath, -called her the Ugly Princess. She sat now beside -her step-mother, Alazais, and made a foil for that -lovely dame.</p> - -<p>In the past two generations there had come a change -in the world. True it was that to appearance it affected -only a small ring—only the top strata, the -capstones of the feudal system; only the world of -lords and knights and poets and “ladies.” As the -jongleur had told Garin, it was not supposed to descend -to shepherdesses. Even in the other world by -no means was it always present. Sometimes the lack -of it was as shocking as might be. Sometimes it was<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_86" id="Page_86">[86]</a></span> -there only in very small part, only in unimportant -issues. Sometimes it was mere affectation. Sometimes -it was used as a mask, and behind it went on -ill realities. But it had itself come into the world as -a reality. It knew motion and growth, and it manifested -itself, though in degrees. There was much -alloy, but at its purest and best it was a golden -thing, a flower of light. It called itself chivalric love.</p> - -<p>Here and there it was pure and in action, but in -between and all around was imitation, a little gold -drawn out into much filagree. The filagree was the -fashion; it drew being from the real, but the depth -of its being was slight. But it was the fashion, no -doubt of that. As the jongleur had said, it raged. -Where it was received, in court and castle, hall and -bower, sensuality grew sensuousness with sparks of -something higher. But the framework of feudal society -imposed all manner of restrictions. The elaborate -gradation of rank, the perpetual recurrence of -“lord” and “vassal,” the swords about women, marriage -that was bargaining for wealth and power—all -blocked the torrent’s natural course. Thrown back -upon itself, the feeling inbred artifices and illusions, -extravagances, sometimes monstrosities. It became -the mock-heroic, the pseudo-passionate. It cultivated -a bright-hued fungus garden of sentimentality. -It rose from earth, not by its own wings but by -some Icarian apparatus that the first fire scorched -away. It picked up the bright dropped feathers of -the true bird of Paradise, but though it made a<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_87" id="Page_87">[87]</a></span> -mantle of them, its own hue showed beneath. It -did not understand what it was that it admired, but -it made a cult of the admiration.... And yet all the -while there was something real, and Extravagance -and Mistake were dimly its seekers. Life was richer -and longer of stride than it had used to be. A host -of perceptions had at last melted into a concept of -mutual love such as had not before been in the earth. -Those that the crown fell upon might be silent or -not, but no one else was silent. It was the Discovery—the -age’s Indies—and polite conversation -came round to it as the needle to the pole. Nay, -<i>conversazioni</i> were planned to discuss this and this -alone. Troubadours sang in contests songs of love—and -once more songs of love. Now and again they -might dispute other matters in a <i>tenso</i>, lash the time’s -recognized vices in a <i>sirvente</i>. But these were asides. -Their true business was to sing of love and lovers -and the service of love. Some sang with a springtime -freshness, force, and simplicity. Some took all that -was strained, far-fetched, and hectic in the time’s -regard of the Discovery and made of it a heady -drink.</p> - -<p>To-day this garden sat or stood to consider Love—that -is, to consider love of an individual of -one sex for an individual of the other. Here were -knights who, when they fought, tied their lady’s -sleeve or girdle about arm or helm. Here were -troubadours of note, each of whom flung far and -wide through the land the praise of some especial<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_88" id="Page_88">[88]</a></span> -fair. And here were women who were thus praised -and sung.</p> - -<p>The age greatly lauded virginity in the abstract. -But—saving the saints in heaven and abbesses on -earth—precedence in fact was given by the world -of chivalry to the married woman. Public opinion -required of wedded great dames—perhaps in most -cases received—essential regard for their lords’ -honour. This granted, for love they were let turn -elsewhere. Theirs chiefly, though not solely, were -the knights, the troubadours, the incense, the poesy. -Marriage came so early, marriage was so plainly the -rule, that the unwed in evidence—the throngs of -nuns making another story—were almost always -young girls indeed, buds of flowers, somewhat ill at -ease with the opened roses. But largely they were -of the rose kind, and, in the bloomy ring of wedded -dames, sighed to in <i>canzons</i>, “fair friends” of knight -and poet, but saw themselves a little further on. -Those in the garden were not of the very youngest, -and they were used to courts and not ill at ease. -They were rosebuds very sweet, and they took their -share of lauds. From them all the ugly princess differed -subtly.</p> - -<p>It was not merely that she differed when faces -were compared. What others might think could not -of course appear, but the duke, who had considered -an alliance with Roche-de-Frêne, thought her deficient -in every power to please. It was right enough -that, in the presence of her father and step-dame,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_89" id="Page_89">[89]</a></span> -before the perhaps oppressive loom of her own possible -good fortune, she should keep silence. But she -should look fair and complying, not be such an one -that the world might say, “Our Duke chose a poor -little land, under a gloomy sky!” And when she did -speak she should speak with sense and <i>à propos</i>. As -it was, she spoke folly.</p> - -<p>For instance. There had been introduced a jongleur, -a Babylonish-looking fellow, who had narrated -at length and with action the history of Dido. He -had ended amid acclaim and had been given largesse. -Following the lesser art and performer had come the -major—burst into song the troubadours. They -parted between them the passion of the Carthaginian -Queen. One took the May of it, one the July, one -the Winter. They soared to Olympus and pleaded -it before the Court of Love; they came down to -Europe and placed it in the eye of brave knights and -sweet ladies. The duke was moved. He began to -lean toward Alazais; then, policy and the beauty of -a virtuous action prevailing, he bent instead toward -the only one there who could link together his dukedom -and Roche-de-Frêne. “Fair, sweet princess, -what think you of this great lover, Queen Dido?”</p> - -<p>Then had the changeling shown oddness and folly. -She lifted eyes that were <i>vair</i> or changeable, and -neither shy nor warm, and spoke in a voice as dry -as a Candlemas reed. “I hold,” she said, “that in -that matter of the bull’s hide, she was wise.”</p> - -<p>She said no more and her eyes fell again upon her<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_90" id="Page_90">[90]</a></span> -long, brown hands. They were as brown as a berry; -they looked as though she had been roving like an -Egyptian. The duke had a strong movement of distaste. -She appeared to him as Babylonish as the -jongleur.</p> - -<p>The court seemed used to her. Naturally, it -failed in no observance. She had her ladies, and a -page stood at her call. The troubadours when they -sang bent to her as they bent to the other chairs of -state. Lord and knight made due obeisance. That -marvellous Alazais spoke to her ever and anon, and -she answered. But her words were few and short; -the duke saw that she had not the gift of discourse. -He saw no gift that she had. Certainly, she was not -trying to please a great duke. It was not that she -showed any discourtesy—that were impossible. -But there was no right sense of his presence. She -sat, young and without beauty, unsmiling, her eyes -now upon the watch-tower drawn against the blue, -and now upon the face of the singer. They said that -Prince Gaucelm doated upon her. He was her father—let -him doat!</p> - -<p class="pp6q p1">“What shall a knight do for his lady?<br /> -He shall love her, love her, pardie!”</p> - -<p class="pn1">sang Gilles de Valence, reprobation of Messire Æneas -being now in hand.</p> - -<p class="pp6q p1">“All his nights and all his days<br /> -He shall study but her praise.<br /> -Her word against all words he weigheth,<br /> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_91" id="Page_91">[91]</a></span>Saith she ‘Stay,’ in joy he stayeth.<br /> -Saith she ‘Go,’ all meek he goeth.<br /> -A heart in chains is all he knoweth,<br /> -From other wit release he showeth!<br /> -Wit may plead, but Love is nigher,<br /> -Jove may call, but Love calls higher!<br /> -What shall a knight do for his lady?<br /> -He shall love her, love her, pardie!<br /> -All his nights and all his days,<br /> -He shall study but her praise!”</p> - -<p class="p1">Applause arose. Raimon de Saint-Rémy took his -lute. But the duke noted how stiff and silent sat the -ugly princess.</p> - -<p>The entertainment of that forenoon over, they -went to dinner—a considerable concourse, so considerable -that when all were seated the great hall -appeared to blossom like the garden. At the table -of state sat the prince and Alazais and the Princess -Audiart, the duke, Bishop Ugo, and three or four -others whom Gaucelm would honour. Musicians -played in a gallery. Waiting men in long procession -brought the viands—venison and peacocks, pasties -of all kinds, mutton, spitted small birds, wheaten -bread—a multitude of matters. Afterwards came -cakes and tarts, with many fruits. Always there was -wine served in rich cups. The oddity to a later taste -would have been the excess of seasoning,—the pepper, -saffron, ginger, cloves, the heat and pungency -of the solid meats,—and then the honey dropped -in wine. At the prince’s table a knight carved, at -the others the noblest esquires. The apparel of the -tables was rich; there were gold and silver vessels<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_92" id="Page_92">[92]</a></span> -of many sorts, dishes, bowls, fine knives and spoons,—but, -high and low, no fork.</p> - -<p>The hall was very large, and so the talk of many -people, subdued in tone as, of late years, good manners -had learnt to demand, created no more than a -pleasant deep humming. For the most part the talk -ran upon love, arms, and policy, the latest, most -resounding public events, and the achievements and -abilities, personal adventures and misadventures, of -various members of the company. At the raised -table it was high politics and what was occurring in -the world of rulers, for that was what the duke liked -to talk about and the prince bent the conversation -to suit his guest. Bishop Ugo liked it, too. Ugo’s -mind ran at times from realm to realm, but there -was a main land in which he was most at home. In -that he passioned, schemed, and strove for Holy -Church’s temporal no less than spiritual ascendancy. -The Hohenstauffen and Pope Alexander—Guelph -and Ghibelline—Church and Empire—the new, -young French King Philip, suzerain of Roche-de-Frêne—Henry -the Second of England and his sons, -specifically his son Richard, not so far from here, -in Aquitaine—so ran the talk. The visiting duke -spoke much, in the tone of peer to them of whom he -spoke. Ugo listened close-lipped; now and then he -entered eloquently, and always in the Papal service. -The prince said little. It was not easy to discover -where he stood. The barons at the table took judicious -part. The dazzling Alazais displayed a flattering<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_93" id="Page_93">[93]</a></span> -interest, and the duke, noting that, gave his -destrier further rein, shook a more determined lance. -He spoke of that same Richard, Duke of Aquitaine, -a man much talked of by his time, and he related -instances that showed that Richard’s strength and -weakness. He bore hard upon a fantastic generosity -which, appealed to, could at times make Richard -change and forsake his dearest plans.</p> - -<p>The Princess Audiart sipped her wine. She heard -the duke as in a dream. Atop of all the voices in the -hall her mind was off in a forest glade.... She -looked across at the prince her father. She had not -told him of that adventure—of how she had desperately -tired of Our Lady in Egypt and of her aunt -the Abbess and of most of her own women, and -would spend one day a-shepherdessing, and had -done so. She was going to tell him—even though -she reckoned on some anger. She had for Gaucelm -a depth of devotion.... A forest glade, and an evil -knight and a squire in brown and green—and now -what were they talking of?</p> - -<p>That afternoon half the court rode out a-hawking. -The prince did not go; he was heavy now for the -saddle. But the duke rode, and the two princesses. -The day was good, the sport was fair; the great -thing, air and exercise, all obtained without thinking -of it. There was much mirthful sound, laughter, -men’s voices and women’s voices. Alazais dazzled; -so fair was she on her white palfrey that had its -mane tied with little silver bells. The duke rode<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_94" id="Page_94">[94]</a></span> -constantly by her side. The Princess Audiart had -for escort Stephen the Marshal, a goodly baron and -knight. The duke was well and correct where he -was, Alazais being Gaucelm’s princess, and his hostess. -Manners demanded toward the younger princess -a decorum of restraint and distance. Only this -restraint should have been managed with an exquisite -semblance of repressed ardour, with a fineness -of “Truly a fair and precious link between -Houses!” This it was that was missing, and noted -as missing by every knight and lady that went -a-hawking.</p> - -<p>The return to the castle was made in the sunset-glow. -Supper followed, and after supper a short -interval of repose. Then all met again in the cleared -hall and the musicians began to play. Gaucelm in -red samite sat upon the dais, and by him the duke -in purple. Alazais, in white, with a jewelled zone -and a mantle hued like flame, looked Venus come -to earth. Beside her sat the ugly princess in dark -blue over a silver robe.</p> - -<p>Before them, on the floor of the hall, knights and -ladies trod an intricate measure. Great candles -burned, viols and harps, the jongleurs played their -best, varlets stationed by the walls scattered Eastern -perfumes. The duke, with a word to the prince his -host, rose and bending to Alazais offered his hand. -All watched this couple—the measure over, all -acclaimed. The duke led Alazais again to the dais, -then did what others must expect of him and he of<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_95" id="Page_95">[95]</a></span> -himself. “Fair, sweet lady,” he said to Gaucelm’s -daughter. “Will you grace me with this measure?”</p> - -<p>The ugly princess gave him her finger-tips. He -led her upon the floor and they danced. As the -measure, formal and stately, dictated, now they took -attitudes before each other, now they came together, -palms and fingers touching, now again parted. They -were watched with strong interest by the length and -breadth of the hall, by both the Court of Roche-de-Frêne -and the duke’s following. A marriage such as -this—say, what men began to doubt, that it came -to pass—by no means concerned only the two who -married. Thousands of folk were concerned, their -children and their children’s children.</p> - -<p>Gaucelm the Fortunate watched from his dais -and his great chair, where he sat with bent elbow -and his chin resting upon his hand. Sitting so, he -opened his other hand and looked again at a small -piece of cotton paper that had been slipped within -it. Upon the paper appeared, in the up-and-down, -architectural writing of the period, these words: -“Messire, my father; do not, of your good pity, -make me wed this lord! I will be unhappy. You -will be unhappy. He will be unhappy. I do think -that our lands and his lands will be unhappy. Messire -my father, I do not wish to wed.” Prince Gaucelm -closed his hand and watched again.</p> - -<p>The duke was dancing stiffly, with a bad grace -masked as well as he could mask anything that he -truly felt. He wished to be prudent, and certainly<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_96" id="Page_96">[96]</a></span> -it were not prudent to give to Roche-de-Frêne either -open or secret offence. Not yet, even, had he determined.—He -yet might, and he might not.—But -he was an arrogant man and a vain, and to his own -mind it was important that the world should not -think he was fooled. Lasting love between lord and -lady, duke and duchess, mattered, forsooth, little -enough! It was not in the bond. When it came to -beauty, he had seen great queens without beauty -of face or form. But the duke, though he had it -not himself, demanded that beauty in any woman -immediately about him, and with it complaisance, -bent head, and burning of incense. And he wished -men to envy him, in some sort, all his goods, including -the woman whom he would make duchess. That -was where Gaucelm was fortunate. What living -man, thought the duke, but would like to take from -him golden Alazais?</p> - -<p>He danced as starkly as though he were in hauberk -and helmet, and his hand might have been -mailed, so stiffly did it touch Audiart’s hand. Who -would envy him this Egyptian? He never noted if -she danced well or ill, if she had some grace of -body or no; he looked for no expression in her face -that he might admire. She was outlandish—ugly. -There was—as would have become such a changeling—no -awe of him, no tremulous fear lest she -should not please. He had an injured, hot heart -within him. Report had been too careless, bringing -him only news that here was a marriageable princess.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_97" id="Page_97">[97]</a></span> -He blamed his councillors, determined to withdraw -his favour from one who had been called his -bosom friend, but who had advocated this match. -He blamed Gaucelm, who, to his elaborate letter, -had answered only with an invitation to visit Roche-de-Frêne. -He should have said: “Fair lord, you do -my daughter too much honour, who, you must -know—” But chiefly the duke blamed that princess -herself.</p> - -<p>The measure was over. The duke and the princess -returned to the dais. The jongleurs played loudly. -The candles burned, the flung perfumes floated -through the hall. The music hid the whispers. -Gaucelm the Fortunate sat with a slight smile, his -chin upon his hand. For an interlude there was -brought upon the floor the jongleur who had made -part of the forenoon’s entertainment. Elias of -Montaudon he called himself, and he was skilful -beyond the ordinary with balls of coloured glass and -Eastern platters and daggers.</p> - -<p>The ugly princess wished the taste of that dance -taken from her lips. She watched the jongleur, and -because he was all in brown and yellow like an -autumn leaf and was as light as one and as quick as -a woodland creature, he brought the country to her -mind and made her see forests and streams. Her -mother had been a mountain lady, and she herself -would have liked to rove the earth. She sat still, her -gaze straight before her, seeing the coloured balls, -but beyond them imagined lands and wanderings.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_98" id="Page_98">[98]</a></span></p> - -<p>The duke spoke across to the prince her father, -and the words came clean and clear to her hearing, -and to that of Stephen the Marshal and others -standing near. “I have had letters, sir,” said the -duke, “which make me to think that I am required -at home.”</p> - -<hr class="chap" /> - -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_99" id="Page_99">[99]</a></span></p> - -<div class="chapter"> - -<h2 class="p4"><a name="c99" id="c99">CHAPTER VIII</a></h2> - -<p class="pch">TOURNAMENT</p> - -<p class="pn"><span class="smcap">The</span> next morning they heard mass in the castle -chapel. The hour was early, the world all drenched -with autumn dews. The prince and the duke and -Alazais the Fair and Audiart, and behind them many -knights and ladies, kneeled on the stone flooring -between the sparks of the altar-lamps and the pink -morning light. The chanted Latin rose and fell, the -bell rang, all bent. In came a lance of sunlight and -the vagrant morning breeze. Mass over, all flowed -into the paved court. For to-day there was arranged -in the duke’s honour, a splendid tourney. -Many a good knight would joust—the duke also, -it was said. Two hours, and the trumpets would -sound. The court was glad when the great folk -turned away with their immediate people, and the -rest of the world could begin to prepare.</p> - -<p>Prince Gaucelm did not tilt. When he was young -he had proved himself <i>preux chevalier</i>. Now he was -not so young, and his body weighed heavy, and all -his striving was to be <i>prud’homme</i>. When he came -to his chamber in the great donjon he dismissed -from it all save a chamberlain and a page, and the -latter he sent to the princess his daughter with a -message that she might come to him now as she<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_100" id="Page_100">[100]</a></span> -had asked. In as few minutes as might be she -came.</p> - -<p>There was a window looking to the east, over the -castle wall and moat and forth upon the roofs of the -town. The prince had here a great chair and a bench -with cushions, and the princess was to sit upon the -bench. Instead she came and stood beside him, and -then slipped to her knees and rested her head -against the arm of the chair. “My good father,” she -said, “my wise father, my dear father, do you love -me?”</p> - -<p>“You know that I love you,” answered Gaucelm, -and put his hand upon her head.</p> - -<p>“If you do, then it is all safe.”</p> - -<p>Gaucelm slightly laughed. In the sound was both -amusement and anger. “But my guest the duke,” -he said, “does not love you.”</p> - -<p>“He loves me most vilely!” said the ugly princess -with energy.</p> - -<p>Prince Gaucelm mused. “Shall I show offence or -no? I have not decided.”</p> - -<p>“Why show offence?” said the ugly princess. “I -am as I am, and he is as he is. Let him go, with -smiles and a stirrup-cup, and a ‘Fair lord, well met -and well parted!’”</p> - -<p>“He is a foolish man.”</p> - -<p>“There are many such—and women. Let him -go. I grudge him no happiness, nor a fair wife.”</p> - -<p>The ugly princess rose from the floor and went and -stood by the window. Doves that Gaucelm cherished<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_101" id="Page_101">[101]</a></span> -flew from their cote in the court below across -and across the opening. One came and sat upon the -sill and preened its feathers.</p> - -<p>“This question of fairness has many aspects,” -said Gaucelm the Fortunate. “The cover in which -you are clad is not so bad!—Well, let us take it that -this great baron is gone.”</p> - -<p>“I will make an offering to Our Lady of Roche-de-Frêne! -But I will thank you, too,—and most, I -think.”</p> - -<p>“It rests,” said Gaucelm, “that you must marry.”</p> - -<p>“Ah, must I so surely?”</p> - -<p>Prince Gaucelm regarded her ponderingly, with -bent brows. “What is there else for women? You -will not be a nun?”</p> - -<p>“Not I!”</p> - -<p>“Fief by fief,” said Gaucelm, “Roche-de-Frêne -was built, now by conquest and now by alliance. -If I have no son, you are my heir. There is a bell -that rings in all men’s ears. <i>Make for your heir betimes -a prudent marriage, adding land to land, gold to -gold!</i>”</p> - -<p>“Does it ring so joyously in your ears? It does not -ring joyously in mine. No, nor with a goodly, solemn -sound!”</p> - -<p>“It is the world’s way,” said the prince. “I do -not know if it is the right way.”</p> - -<p>The Princess Audiart watched the dove, iris -against the morning sky, then turned, full face, to -her father. “I am not fair,” she said. “Men who<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_102" id="Page_102">[102]</a></span> -want just that will never want me. It seems to me -also that I am not loving. At times, when I listen -to what they say, I want to laugh. I can see great -love. But it seems to me that what they see is not -great love.... Well, but we marry without love! -Well, it seems to me that that is very irksome!—Well, -but you may have a knight to love, so that it -be courtly love and your lord’s honour goes unhurt! -Well, it seems to me that that is children’s love.—I -wish not to marry, but to stay here and learn and -learn and learn, and with you rule and serve Roche-de-Frêne!”</p> - -<p>In the distance a horn was winded. The mounting -sun struck strongly upon the roofs of Roche-de-Frêne. -The dove spread its wings and flew down to -its cote. Voices and a sound of trampling hoofs came -from the court, and a nearer trumpet blew.</p> - -<p>“Time and the mind have wings,” said Prince -Gaucelm, “and it is not well to look too far into the -future!” He rose from his chair. “Load not the -camel and the day too heavily! Let us go now and -watch the knights joust.”</p> - -<p>The tournament was held without the walls, in -a long meadow sunk like a floor between verdant -slopes of earth. At either end were pavilions, pitched -for those who jousted. Midway of the lists appeared -a wreathed platform, silken-canopied, built for the -great. Right and left of this space of honour was -found place for men-at-arms and castle retainers, -and likewise for the magistrates of the town and the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_103" id="Page_103">[103]</a></span> -more important burghers. But on the other side of -the lists there were slopes of turf with out-cropping -stones and an occasional well-placed tree, and here -the town poured out its workers, men and women. -The crowd was cheerful. There surged a loud, beating -sea of talk. Up and down and across sprang -glitter and light, with sharp notes of colour. Squires -and men-at-arms, heralds and pages gave their -quota. Nor did there lack priest and pilgrim,—and -that though the Church thundered against tournaments,—Jew, -free-lance and travelling merchant, -jongleur and stroller. All was gay beneath a bright -blue sky, and esquires held the knights’ horses before -the painted pavilions.</p> - -<p>The trumpets blew, and out of the castle gates and -down the road cut in the living rock came the great -folk. When they reached the meadow and the gallery -built for them, and when presently all were -seated, it was like a long bank of flowers, coloured -glories. At each end of the lists waited twenty -knights in mail with painted surcoats. Between, -over the green meadow, rode and staidly consulted -the marshals. Horses neighed, metal jingled, the -folk laughed, talked, gesticulated, now and then disputed. -Jongleurs picked at stringed instruments, -trumpeters made a gay shower of notes. Towers -and battlements closed the scene, and the walled -town spread upon the hill-top.</p> - -<p>The prince did not tilt, but the duke had granted -that during the day he would splinter one lance. His<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_104" id="Page_104">[104]</a></span> -pavilion was therefore pitched, his shield hung before -it, and two esquires walked up and down with a great -black stallion. Now, with Stephen the Marshal and -with his own knights, he left the gallery of honour -and went to arm himself. Edging the lists ran a -pathway, wide enough for two horsemen abreast. -A railing divided it from the throng. As the duke -and his party passed along this road, the crowd, -suddenly learning or conjecturing that here was the -lord in whose honour was planned the tournament, -craned, many-headed, that way. It was very important -to know if this lord were going to wed the -princess! There were townsmen who had caught the -word and called her the ugly princess. As yet they -did not know much about her, though they saw her -ride through the streets with her father, and that -she looked at the people not with haughtiness but -attentively. Of Alazais they were proud. Merchants -of Roche-de-Frêne, when they travelled far away -and there insinuated the praises of home, bragged of -the beauty of their lord’s wife. Her name was known -in Eastern bazaars.—But if there was to be a marriage -it was important, and important to know the -looks of the bridegroom.</p> - -<p>Some crowding took place, some pressing against -the wooden barrier. At one point a plane tree, old -and gnarled, stretched a bough above the pathway. -It made a superb tower of observation and as such -had been seized upon. The duke, walking with the -marshal, and approaching this tree, became aware of<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_105" id="Page_105">[105]</a></span> -folk aloft, thick as fruit upon the bough, half-hidden -by the bronzing leaves, and more vocal than elsewhere. -Certain judgements floated down.</p> - -<p>Holiday and festival encouraged licence of speech. -The time enforced a reality of obedience from rank -to rank, but that provided for, cared not to prevent -mere wagging of tongues. The ruling castes never -thought it out, but had they done so they might -have said that it was not amiss that the people should -somewhere indemnify themselves. Let them laugh, -exercise their wit, so that it grew not too caustic—be -merry-hearted, bold, and familiar! Who held the -land held them, but it was pleasanter for the lord -himself when the land knew jollity. Add that the -courts of the south were more democratic than those -of the north, and that Gaucelm was a democratic -prince.</p> - -<p>The duke was of another temper,—a martinet -and a stickler for respect on the part of the vulgar. -He caught the comment and flushed. “An unmannerly -people!” he said to Stephen the Marshal.</p> - -<p>That baron darted an experienced glance. “They -are the younger, mechanical sort. Take no heed of -them, fair lord.”</p> - -<p>The remark caught had not been ill-natured, was -more jocose than turbulent, might pass where any -freedom of speech was accorded. But suddenly came -clearly from the bough of the plane tree a genuinely -seditious utterance. Given forth in a round, naturally -sonorous voice, it carried further than the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_106" id="Page_106">[106]</a></span> -speaker intended. “<i>One day a burgher will be as -good as a duke!</i>”</p> - -<p>The great folk were almost beneath that wide-spreading -bough. They looked sharply up—the -duke, Stephen the Marshal, all the knights. The -voice said on, like an oracle aloft among the leaves: -“The man in my skin isn’t any less than the man in -his skin. I say that one day—”</p> - -<p>A branch that had served to steady the oracle -suddenly broke, snapping short. Amid ejaculations, -oracle and branch came together to earth. Down -they tumbled, on the inner side of the barrier, upon -the grassy path before the duke and Stephen the -Marshal.</p> - -<p>Laughter arose with, on the knights’ side, some -angry exclamation. The fallen man got hastily to -his feet. “The branch was rotten—” He put a -hand to either side his head, seemed to settle it upon -his shoulders and recover his wits. “Give me pardon, -good lords, for tumbling there like a pippin—” -He was a young man, square-shouldered and sturdy, -with crisply curling black hair, a determined mouth, -and black, bold, and merry eyes.</p> - -<p>Stephen the Marshal spoke sternly. “That bough -brought you to earth, Thibaut Canteleu, but, an -you rein it not, your tongue will bring you into -earth!”</p> - -<p>The offender turned his cap in his hand. “I spoke -not to be heard by great lords,” he said. “I know -not that I said harm. I said that, change my lord<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_107" id="Page_107">[107]</a></span> -duke and me, and I might make a fair duke, and he -a fair master-saddler and worker in Cordovan! I -think that he might, and I will tell you that it taketh -skill—”</p> - -<p>The duke saw fit to laugh, though after an irritated -and peevish fashion. “Roche-de-Frêne,” he -said, “breeds fair princesses and townsmen with -limber tongues!—Well, my Lord Stephen, let us -not tarry here!”</p> - -<p>Lords and knights passed on toward the pavilions. -Thibaut Canteleu, pressed aside, stood close to the -barrier until they were gone, then put his hands -upon the rail and swung himself up and over. The -folk, men and women, received him with laughter, -and some admiration, and he laughed at himself. -Being a holiday, that was the best thing to do.</p> - -<p>A jongleur, a dark Moorish-looking fellow in yellow -and brown, accosted him. “Thou poor mad-house -citizen! Burgher and knight, lion and lamb, -priest and heretic, pope and paynim, villein and -lord, jongleur and troubadour, Jean and Jeanne, let -us all go to heaven together!”</p> - -<p>“We might,” answered Thibaut Canteleu sturdily. -“That is a fine lute of thine! Play us a tune -while we wait.”</p> - -<p>“Not I!” said the jongleur coolly. “It would -demean me. Last night I gave a turn of my art in -the hall up yonder, before the prince and all his -court.—Who is this coming now, with a green-and-silver -banner and fifty men behind him?”</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_108" id="Page_108">[108]</a></span></p> - -<p>The meadow was pitched by the high road running -from the north, and now from this road there turned -toward the lists, the holiday crowd, and the wreathed -gallery, a troop of half a hundred mounted men, at -their head one who seemed of importance. Not only -the rustling people on the green banks, but the -lists now making final preparation, and the silken-canopied -gallery took cognizance of the approach. -The troop came nearer. A tall man rode in front -upon a bay mare. Behind him an esquire held -aloft a spear with a small green-and-silver banner -attached. A poursuivant, gorgeously clad, -detached himself from the mass and cried out: -“Montmaure!”</p> - -<p>“Ha!” exclaimed Gaucelm the Fortunate. “Here -is Count Savaric!” He spoke to the seneschal. -“Take five or six of the best and go meet him. Bring -him here with due honour.”</p> - -<p>“Perhaps,” said Alazais, “he will joust. He is -a mighty man of his arms and bears down good -knights.”</p> - -<p>The unlooked-for guests were now riding close at -hand, coming upon the edge of the meadow, full -before the platform of state. So important was this -arrival, that for the moment it halted interest in the -tourney. All turned to watch the troop with the -green-and-silver banner.</p> - -<p>Montmaure was less powerful than Roche-de-Frêne, -but not greatly less. Roche-de-Frêne held -from the French King Philip. Montmaure did homage<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_109" id="Page_109">[109]</a></span> -for his lands to Richard, Duke of Aquitaine. -But there was a certain fief, a small barony,—to -wit, the one that included Castel-Noir and Raimbaut -the Six-fingered’s keep,—for which Montmaure -had put his hands between the hands of -Gaucelm of Roche-de-Frêne. To the extent of three -castles with their villages Gaucelm was his liege -lord. Now, as he came beneath the platform and -immediately opposite that prince, he gave ceremonious -recognition of the fact. Turning in his saddle, -he drew his sword an inch from its sheath, holding -the pommel toward the prince, then let it slip -home again. Gaucelm the Fortunate made a sign -of acceptance. The superb cavalcade passed on -and in another moment was met by the welcoming -seneschal.</p> - -<p>It seemed that Montmaure would not joust, -though several of his knights wished no better hour’s -play. It was explained that he was travelling to -Montferrat, proceeding on a visit to the marquis his -kinsman. Last night he had slept with such a baron. -To-day, servitors and sumpter-mules had gone on, -but the count with his immediate following would -halt at Roche-de-Frêne to enquire after the health -and well-being of Prince Gaucelm.</p> - -<p>With ceremony Montmaure was marshalled to the -gallery, and, mounting the steps, came between the -wreathed posts to the seats of state. The prince with -Alazais rose to greet him. In Gaucelm of the Star’s -time there had been trouble between Montmaure and<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_110" id="Page_110">[110]</a></span> -Roche-de-Frêne. Some harrying had taken place, -the blood of a number of knights and men-at-arms -been shed, a few hundred peasants slain. But this -present Gaucelm was a man of peace, and had effected -peace with Montmaure. But Roche-de-Frêne -was sceptical of its lasting forever. Who knew -Montmaure, knew an ambitious, grasping, warring -lord—and a cruel and unscrupulous.</p> - -<p>He was a tall man, broad-shouldered, long-armed, -with red-gold hair and beard. When all courtesies of -speech had been exchanged, when he had saluted in -courtly fashion the most beautiful Alazais and the -Princess Audiart, he took the chair of worth that -was placed for him, and made enquiry for the duke. -He had heard last night that he was a visitor at -Roche-de-Frêne. Told that he would joust, and his -pavilion pointed out. Montmaure gazed at it for -half a minute, then, just turning his head, transferred -his glance to the Princess Audiart. It was -but an instant that he looked, then came square -again to the regard of the lists. He turned a great -emerald ring that he wore.</p> - -<p>“Fair lord,” said Alazais, “your son, Count -Jaufre, is not with you?”</p> - -<p>Montmaure bent his red-gold head toward her. -“Peerless lady, my son, in hunting, came upon a -young wolf who tore his side. He cannot ride yet -with ease. I have left him at Montmaure. There he -studies chivalry, and makes, I doubt not, chansons -for princesses.”</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_111" id="Page_111">[111]</a></span></p> - -<p>“Travellers from Italy,” said Alazais, “have told -us that he is an accomplished knight.”</p> - -<p>“It becomes not his father to boast of him,” said -Montmaure. “I will say though that Italy is the -poorer since his return home and his own land is the -richer. I would that he were tilting to-day in the -light, princesses, of your four fair eyes!”</p> - -<p>Again he looked at the Princess Audiart, and at -the duke’s pavilion, and turned his emerald ring.</p> - -<p>The jousting began. Trumpets blew—two -knights advanced against each other with levelled -spears—round and round the green arena the eager -folk craned necks. They had shows not a few in their -lives, but this was a show that never palled. Cockfights -were good—baiting of bears was good—a -bull-fight passed the first two—but the tourney -was the prime spectacle by just as much as knights -in armour outvalued beasts of wood and field. The -knights met with an iron clamour, each breaking his -lance against the other’s shield. Another two were -encountering—one of these was unhorsed. Others -rode forth, coming from either end of the lists....</p> - -<p>Encounter followed encounter as knight after -knight took part. Now there were single combats -and now mêlées. The dust rose in clouds, the trumpets -brayed, the sun climbed high. Knights were -unhorsed; a number had hurts, two or three had -been dragged senseless to the barrier. Stephen the -Marshal was the champion; all who came against -him broke at last like waves against a rock.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_112" id="Page_112">[112]</a></span></p> - -<p>It was high noon and the duke had not yet jousted. -The crowd was excited and began to murmur. It -did not wish to be cheated—the greater he that -jousted, the greater the show! Moreover it wished -to be able to tell the points of him who might be -going to wed Roche-de-Frêne. A statement had -spread that the duke was a bold knight in a tourney—that -he had an enchanted lance, a thread from -Saint Martha’s wimple being tied around its head—that -his black stallion had been brought from the -land over the sea, and had been sired by a demon -steed. The crowd wanted to see him joust against -Stephen the Marshal. His honour would not allow -him to strike a lesser shield. But then the prince -would not wish Stephen to unhorse his guest. But -perhaps Lord Stephen could not—the duke might -be the bolder knight. But was the duke going to -tilt?</p> - -<p>He was going to tilt. He came forth from his -orange silk pavilion, in a hauberk covered with rings -of steel, and his esquires helped him to mount the -black stallion. He took and shook his lance; the -sun made the sheath of his sword to flash; they gave -him a heart-shaped shield. All around the lists -sprang a rustling, buzzing, and clamour. The gallery -of state rustled, whispered.</p> - -<p>“He is not a large man,” quoth Montmaure.</p> - -<p>“I have heard that he jousts well,” Prince Gaucelm -answered.</p> - -<p>“My Lord Stephen the Marshal outmatches him.”</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_113" id="Page_113">[113]</a></span></p> - -<p>“The marshal is a passing good knight. But he is -wearied.”</p> - -<p>“Ha!” thought Montmaure, “you are so courteous -that you mean the duke to win the wreath. -Crown your daughter Queen of Love and Beauty? -God’s teeth! I suppose he must do it if he wants -Roche-de-Frêne—”</p> - -<p>The black stallion and his rider crossed to the -marshal’s pavilion. The duke touched the shield -with his lance, then backed the stallion to his own -end of the meadow. Stephen the Marshal mounted -his big grey and took a lance from his esquire. -The field was left clear for the two.</p> - -<p>They met midway, in dust-cloud and clangour. -Whether the marshal was tired, or whether he was as -courteous as his lord, or whether the duke was truly -great in the tourney, may be left to choice. Each -lance splintered, but Stephen the Marshal, as his -horse came back upon its haunches, lost his seat, -recovered it only by clutching at the mane and -swinging himself into the saddle. Every herald at -once found voice—up hurried the marshals—silver -trumpets told to the four quarters, name and -titles of the victor.</p> - -<p>Around and around rose applause, though indeed -no immoderate storm of sound. Stephen the Marshal -was a valiant man. But there was enough to let -one say that nothing lacked. The duke turned his -horse from side to side, just bowed his head in its -pointed helmet. Then, as the custom was, a wreath<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_114" id="Page_114">[114]</a></span> -of silken flowers and leaves was placed upon the -point of his spear. He made the stallion to curvet -and caracole, and then to pace slowly around the -lists. A body of jongleurs began to play with enthusiasm -as passionate a love-air as they knew. All -Roche-de-Frêne, town and castle—all the barons -and ladies from afar—all the knights who jousted—all -watched to see the duke lay the wreath at the -feet of the young princess—watched to see if he -would lay it there. If he did it might be said to -announce that here, if he might, he would wed.</p> - -<p>The duke rode around the lists; then before the -wide platform of state and the centre of that platform, -before the chairs set arow upon a rich Eastern -rug and canopied with silk, he checked the black -stallion, and, lowering his lance, let the wreath slip -from it and rest at the feet of certainly the most -beautiful woman there, Gaucelm’s princess, the -dazzling Alazais.</p> - -<hr class="chap" /> - -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_115" id="Page_115">[115]</a></span></p> - -<div class="chapter"> - -<h2 class="p4"><a name="c115" id="c115">CHAPTER IX</a></h2> - -<p class="pch">GARIN SEEKS HIS FORTUNE</p> - -<p class="pn"><span class="smcap">One</span> day, from sunrise to sunset, Garin kept company -with the train of the Abbot of Saint Pamphilius. -As the day dropped toward eve the road touched a -stream that, reflecting the western sky, blushed like -a piece of coral. It was the monks’ home stream. -The ford passed, their abbey would ere long rise -before them. Some were tired of travel and had -been homesick for garden and refectory, cell and -chapel—homesick as a dog for its master, a child -for its mother, a plant for its sunshine. Some were -not tired of travel and were not homesick. So there -were both glad and sorry in the fellowship that, midway -of the ford, checked the fat abbey mules and -horses to let them drink. The beasts stooped their -necks to the pink water; monks and lay brothers -and abbey knaves looked at the opposite slope. -When they reached its crest they would see before -them Saint Pamphilius, grey and rich. The abbot’s -mule drank first as was proper, raised its head first, -and with a breath of satisfaction splashed forward. -The two monks immediately attendant upon the -Reverend Father must pull up their horses’ heads -before they had half drunken and follow their -superior.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_116" id="Page_116">[116]</a></span></p> - -<p>The abbot, mounting the gently shelving bank, -looked at his sons in God, yet dotting the small -bright river. He just checked his mule. “That -limping youth is no longer in our company.”</p> - -<p>The monk nearest him spoke. “Reverend Father, -as we came through the wood a mile back, he gave -Brother Anselm thanks, then slipped from behind -him. Brother Bartholomew called to him, but he -went away among the trees.”</p> - -<p>“Ah!” said the abbot; “in which direction?”</p> - -<p>“Reverend Father, southwardly.”</p> - -<p>Abbot Arnaut sat silent a moment, then shook -the reins and his mule climbed on toward the hill-top. -“Ah,” he said to himself, and he said it piously. -“He is young, and when you are young perils do not -imperil! When you are young, you are an eel to slip -through—I have done what I could! Doubtless he -will escape.”</p> - -<p>That night there rose a great round moon. It -lighted Garin through the wood until he was ready -to sleep,—it showed him where he could find the -thickest bed and covering of leaves,—and when he -waked in the night he saw it like a shield overhead. -All day, riding behind Brother Anselm, the monks -about him, black as crows, he had felt dull and dead. -Waking now in the night, forest around him and -moon above, sheer unfamiliarity and wonder at his -plight made him shiver and start like a lost child. -All that he had lost passed before him. Foulque -passed, transfigured in his eyes, he was so lonely<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_117" id="Page_117">[117]</a></span> -and sick for home. Raimbaut the Six-fingered -passed, transfigured. The rude hall in Raimbaut’s -keep, the smoky fire and the lounging men—they -were desirable to him; he felt a cold pang when it -crossed him that he would never win back. He -strove to plunge, head to heel, into the rich depths -of the feeling before this feeling, to recall the glow -out of which he had spoken at Castel-Noir, to go -back to the nightingale’s singing. It was there, that -feeling; he knew that it had been born and was living. -But to-night half a chill and empty world was -between him and it. There in the forest, beneath -the round moon, he had a bewildered brain and an -aching heart. Then at last he crossed the half-world -to some faint sweetness, and so slept.</p> - -<p>With the dawn he was afoot. He had a piece of -bread in his pouch, and as he walked he ate this, and -a streamlet gave him drink. The wood thinned. In -the first brightness of the day he came upon a road -of so fair a width and goodness that he saw it must -be a highway and beaded with towns. Apparently -it ran northeast and southwest, though so broken -was the country that at short range it rounded almost -any corner you might choose. Where he was -going he did not know, but he took the trend that -led him south by west. Dimly he thought of making -his way into Spain. Barcelona—there was a -great town—and King Alfonso of Aragon was -known for a gallant king, rich, liberal and courtly. -Garin looked down at his serf’s tunic and torn shoon—but<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_118" id="Page_118">[118]</a></span> -then he felt within his breast. Foulque’s -purse was there.</p> - -<p>When he waked, it had been first to bewilderment -and then to mere relief in warmth and sunlight. -Now as he walked courage returned, the new energy -and glow. Early as it was, the road had its travel -which increased with the strengthening day. It was -a country rich in beauty. He had never been so far -from home. The people upon the road were like -people he had seen before. Yet there existed small, -regional differences, and his eye was quick at noting -these. They pleased him; imagination played. The -morning was fair without and within.</p> - -<p>A driver of mules—twenty with twenty loads of -sawn wood and sacks of salt and other matters—caught -up with him. Garin and he walked side by -side and the former learned whence the road came -and where it went. As for the world hereabouts, it -belonged to Count Raymond of Toulouse. Garin, -walking, began to sing.</p> - -<p>“You sing well, brother,” said the muleteer. “If -you dwelt with animals as I do, your voice would -crack! They do not understand me when I sing. -They think that I mean that they may stand still -and admire.—Ha! May God forget and the devil -remember you there! Get up!”</p> - -<p>They travelled with pauses, jerks, and starts, so -at last Garin said, “Farewell, brother!” and swung -on alone. Half an hour later he, in turn, came up -with a pedlar, a great pack wrapt in cloth on his<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_119" id="Page_119">[119]</a></span> -back, sitting resting by the wayside. “Who’ll buy?” -called the pedlar. “Here’s your fine pennyworths!”</p> - -<p>Garin stopped beside him and considered the pack. -Travelling merchants of a different grade, going with -laden horses from fair to fair, might have with them, -cut, fashioned and sewed, a dress that would do for -an esquire. But not a poor pack-aback like this. He -shook his head.</p> - -<p>“No money?” asked the pedlar. “Thumb of -Lazarus! how this sickness spreads!”</p> - -<p>Other wayfarers came in sight. “Who’ll buy?” -called the pedlar. “Here’s your fine pennyworths!”</p> - -<p>Garin left him chaffering with a rich villein, and -went his own way along the sunny road.</p> - -<p>Toward noon, rounding a hill, he came upon a -little village. He bought from the nearest house -bread and cheese and a cup of goat’s milk, and sat -down under a mulberry tree to eat and drink. As -he made an end of the feast, two girls came and -stood in the house door. They studied his appearance, -and it seemed to find favour. He smiled back -at them.</p> - -<p>“Where do you live?” asked one.</p> - -<p>“In the moon.”</p> - -<p>“Ha!” said the girl. “It was as round as an egg -last night. You must have dropped out. And where -are you going?”</p> - -<p>“To the sun.”</p> - -<p>“Hè! You will be sunburned. Whose man are -you?”</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_120" id="Page_120">[120]</a></span></p> - -<p>“Lord Love’s.”</p> - -<p>The girls laughed for joy in him. “Hè! We see his -collar around your neck! What does he make you -do?”</p> - -<p>“He makes me to serve a lady.”</p> - -<p>“‘Ladies!’ We do not like ‘ladies’! They are as -proud as they were made of sugar!”</p> - -<p>“In the court of Lord Love,” said Garin, “every -woman mounts into a lady.”</p> - -<p>One of the girls laughed more silently than the -other. “Oh, the pleasant fool!” she said. “You go -on a long pilgrimage when you go to Compostella. -But to that court would be the longest I have ever -heard tell of!”</p> - -<p>The other dug her bare foot into the ground. “If -you are in no hurry, the house can give you work to -do, and for it supper and lodging.”</p> - -<p>“I have to reach the sun. And who would do -that,” said Garin, “must be travelling.”</p> - -<p>He stood up, left the mulberry tree, and because -they were young and not unfair, and there was to be -seen in it no harm or displeasure, he kissed them -both. They laughed and pushed him away, then, -their hands on his shoulders, each kissed back.</p> - -<p>Leaving them and the hamlet behind, he came -again into fair country where the blue sky touched -the hill-tops. Morning had slipped into afternoon. -Not far away would be a town he had heard of. -He meant to get there a different dress. It was necessary -to do that. Wandering so, in this serf’s wear,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_121" id="Page_121">[121]</a></span> -he might at any hour be taken up, called to account, -made to name his master. “Lord Love” would not -answer far. Say that, without fathomless trouble, -he got the dress, what was going to follow upon the -getting? He did not know.</p> - -<p>Ahead of him walked a thin figure wrapped in a -black mantle and wearing a wide hat somewhat like -a palmer’s. Garin lessened the distance between -them. The black-clad one was talking, or more correctly, -chanting to himself as he walked, and that -with such abstraction from the surrounding world -that he did not hear the other moving close behind -him. Garin listened before speaking.</p> - -<p>“In Ethiopia is found basilisk, cockatrice, and -phœnix; in certain parts of Greece the centaur, and -in the surrounding seas mermaiden. The dolphin is -of all beasts the tenderest-hearted. Elephants worship -the sun.... Pliny tells us that there are eleven -kinds of lightning. Clap your hands when it lightens.... -The elements are four—earth, air, fire and -water. To each of these pertaineth a spirit—gnome, -sylph, salamander, ondine. By long and great study -a scholar at last may perceive sylph or salamander. -Such an one rises to strange wisdom.... The earth -is not a plain as we were taught. Impossible for our -human mind to conceive how it may be round, and -yet the most learned hold that it is so. Holy Church -denieth, <i>in toto</i>, the Antipodes, and one must walk -warily. Yet, if it is fancied a square, there are difficulties. -Aristotle—”</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_122" id="Page_122">[122]</a></span></p> - -<p>Garin came even with him. “God save you, sir!”</p> - -<p>The black mantle started violently, returned the -salutation, but looked around him nervously. Then, -seeing in a neighbouring field half a dozen peasants, -men and women, he recovered his equanimity. -Moreover, when he looked at him closely, the youth -had not the face of a robber. He addressed Garin -in a slightly sing-song voice. “Do you know this -road? How far is it to the town?”</p> - -<p>“I do not know the road. It is not much further, -I think.”</p> - -<p>The man in the black mantle was a thin, pale, -ascetic-looking person. He had a hungry look, or -what, at first, Garin thought was such. The esquire -had seen hungry men, peasants starved and wolfish, -prisoners with a like aspect, fasting penitents. But -it was the man’s eyes, Garin decided, that gave him -the look, and it was not one of hunger for bread. -They were large and clear, and they seemed to seek -something afar.</p> - -<p>Their owner at first looked askance and with a -somewhat peevish pride at the peasant keeping -beside him. Garin had forgotten his garb and the -station it assigned him. But the feeling, such as it -was, seemed to drift out of the black-clad’s mind. -“I grow weary,” he said, “and shall be glad to beg a -night’s shelter.”</p> - -<p>“Have you travelled far?”</p> - -<p>“From Bologna.”</p> - -<p>“Bologna! That is in Italy.”</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_123" id="Page_123">[123]</a></span></p> - -<p>“Yes. The University there. I am going to Paris. -It may be that I shall go to Oxford.”</p> - -<p>“Ah,” said Garin, with respect. “I understand -now why you were talking to yourself. You are a -student.”</p> - -<p>“That am I. One day I may be Magister or Doctor.” -He walked with a lifted gaze. “I serve toward -that—and toward the gaining of Knowledge.”</p> - -<p>Garin was silent; then he said with some wistfulness, -“I, too, would have learning and knowledge.”</p> - -<p>The other walked with a rapt gaze. “It is the true -goddess,” he said, “it is the Great Love.”</p> - -<p>But Garin dissented from that with a shake of the -head and a short laugh of rapture.</p> - -<p>The student turned his large eyes upon him. “You -love a woman.—What is her name?”</p> - -<p>“I do not know,” said Garin. “Nor the features -of her face, nor where she lives.” Suddenly as he -moved, he made a name. “The Fair Goal,” he said, -“I have named her now.”</p> - -<p>The interest of the man in black had been but -momentary. “Study is a harsh mistress,” he said; -“fair, but terrible! It would irk any pitying saint -to see how we students fare! Hunger and cold and -nakedness. Books, without warmth or cheer or -light where we can con them. And we often want -books and nowhere can procure them. We live in -booths or in corners of other men’s dwellings, and -none care to give us livelihood while we master -knowledge. There were several thousand of us in<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_124" id="Page_124">[124]</a></span> -Bologna, and in Paris there are more, and at Oxford -they say there are many thousands. I have -seen us go blind, and I have seen us die of hunger, -and I have seen us unwitted—”</p> - -<p>“But you go on,” said Garin.</p> - -<p>“It is the only life,” answered the black mantle.</p> - -<p>They walked in silence. After a few moments a -thought seemed to occur to the journeyer from -Bologna. He looked more closely at his companion. -“By your dress you are out of the fields. But your -tongue speaks castle-wise.”</p> - -<p>Garin had his vanity of revealment. “My tongue -is my own, but this dress is not,” he said; then, repenting -his rashness, “Do not betray me! I am -fleeing from trouble.”</p> - -<p>“No, I will not,” answered the student with simplicity. -“I know trouble, and he is hard to escape. -You are, perchance, a young knight?”</p> - -<p>“I was my lord’s esquire. But it is my meaning -to become a knight.—I would make poems, too.”</p> - -<p>“Ah!” said the student, “a troubadour.”</p> - -<p>Garin made no answer, but the word sank in. He -had a singing heart to-day. You could be knight and -troubadour both. He wished now to write a beautiful -song for the Fair Goal.</p> - -<p>They came in sight of the town. It was fairly -large, massed, like most towns, about a castle. As in -all towns, you saw churches and churches rising -above the huddled houses.</p> - -<p>“I will find,” said the student, “some house of<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_125" id="Page_125">[125]</a></span> -monks. I will give them all the news I know, and -they will give me food and a pallet. Best come with -me.”</p> - -<p>But Garin would not try the monastery.</p> - -<p>The afternoon was waning. They entered the -town not more than an hour before the gates would -shut, and parted in the shadow of the wall. When -Garin had gone twenty paces, he looked back. The -student was standing where he had left him, in a -brown study, but now he spoke across the uneven, -unpaved way. “Choose knowledge!” he said.</p> - -<p>Garin, going on through a narrow, dark, and tortuous -lane, found in his mind the jongleur to whom -he had talked on the road from Roche-de-Frêne. -“Choose love!” had said the jongleur. Garin -laughed. “I choose what I must!” The dark way -seemed to blossom with roses; jewels and perfumes -were in his hands.</p> - -<p>He found, after an hour of wandering and enquiry, -lodging in a high, old, ruinous house above a black -alley. Here he got a Spartan supper, and went to -bed, tired but hopeful. Morning seemed to come at -once. He rose in a high, clear dawn, ate what they -gave him, sallied forth, and in the first sunshine -came to a shop where was standing a Jew merchant -in a high cap. Garin bought shirt, hose and breeches, -tunic and mantle, shoes and cap. The Jew looked -questions out of his small, twinkling black eyes, but -asked none with his tongue.</p> - -<p>Back to his lodging went Garin, his purchases<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_126" id="Page_126">[126]</a></span> -under his arm, shifted from serf’s garb into these, -and stood forth in russet and blue—a squire again to -the eye, though not the squire of any knight or lord -of wealth. He counted over the moneys yet in his -purse, and then, having paid to a half-blind old -woman the price of his lodging, went forth again, -and at a place for weapons bought a dagger with -sheath and belt. Near the weapon shop was a -church porch. Garin wished to think things out a -little, so he went across to this and took his seat -upon the steps in the sunshine, his back to a pillar.</p> - -<hr class="chap" /> - -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_127" id="Page_127">[127]</a></span></p> - -<div class="chapter"> - -<h2 class="p4"><a name="c127" id="c127">CHAPTER X</a></h2> - -<p class="pch">GARIN TAKES THE CROSS</p> - -<p class="pn"><span class="smcap">The</span> bells of a neighbouring religious house were -ringing with a mellow sound. People passed this -way and that before the church porch. The doors -were opened, and one and another entered the -building. Garin paid them no attention; he sat sunk -in thought. What now? What next?</p> - -<p>He was twenty years old—strong, of a sound -body, not without education in matters that the -time thought needful. He could do what another -esquire of gentle blood could do. Moreover, he felt -in himself further powers. He was not crassly confident; -he turned toward those bright shoots and buds -an inner regard half shy and wistful. He was capable -of longing and melancholy.... Danger from -Savaric of Montmaure and his son Jaufre he held to -be fairly passed. Accident might renew it, to-day, -to-morrow, or ten years hence, but accident only -took its chance with other chances. He was out of -Savaric’s grasp, being out of his territory and into -that of Toulouse, with intention to wander yet -farther afield. Extradition and detectives had their -rough-hewn equivalents in Garin’s day. But he was -assured that there was no spy upon his track, and -he did not brood over the possibility of a summons<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_128" id="Page_128">[128]</a></span> -to Toulouse to deliver him or be warred against. -He had his share of common sense. He was an -offender too obscure and slight for such weightiness -of persecution. Did they find him, they would -wring his neck, but they would not dislocate their -usual life to find him. He thought that, with common -precaution, he was at present safe enough from -Montmaure. He could not go back to Raimbaut -or to Castel-Noir—perhaps not for many years -... though if he became a famous knight he might -ride back, his esquires behind him, and challenge -that false knight, Jaufre de Montmaure! To become -that knight—that was his problem, or rather, one -great problem. He must change his name, he must -seek a lord, he must win back, first, to squirehood. -On the road yesterday, one had asked him his -name. He had replied with the first thing that -came into his head. “Garin Rogier,” he had said. -He thought now that this would still answer. For -his country, he proposed to say that he was of Limousin.</p> - -<p>It might take years to become a knight. His own -merit would have to do with that, but Fortune, also, -would have to do with it. He knew not if Fortune -would be kind to him, or the reverse. He sat bent -forward, his hands clasped between his knees, his -eyes upon the sunshine-gilded stones. Find knighthood—And -how should he find his lady?</p> - -<p>He took into his hand a corner of his mantle. The -stuff was simple, far from costly, but the colour was<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_129" id="Page_129">[129]</a></span> -that blue, deep but not harsh, dark but silvery too, -which had been worn by that form in the stone chair -beneath the cedar tree, by the Convent of Our Lady -in Egypt. He had bought it because it was of that -hue. Now the sunshine at his feet seemed of the -very tissue of that day. He sat in a dream, his mind -now a floating mist of colour and fragrance, now an -aching vision of a woman’s form whose face he could -not see. He drew and coloured the face, now this -way and now that, but never to his satisfaction.... -Would ever he meet her face to face? He knew not. -Where did she live? He knew not. East, west, -north, south—beyond the mountains or across -the sea? He knew not. It would be in some court. -There were many courts. His strong fancy was that -she had come from far away. He knew not if in this -world he would again enter her presence.</p> - -<p>An exaltation came upon Garin. And if he did -not, still could he uphold to the stars that dreamy -passion! Still could he serve, worship, sing! The -Fair Goal—the Fair Goal! Music seemed to possess -him and a loveliness of words, and of rich and -lofty images. The Fair Goal—the Fair Goal! -Garin stretched forth his arms. “O Love, my -wingèd Lord! Let me never swerve from the love of -that lady!”</p> - -<p>From the church behind him came a drift of music -and chanting. A woman, mounting the steps, -caught his words and paused to look at him. She -was between youth and age, with a pale, ecstatic<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_130" id="Page_130">[130]</a></span> -face. “Now all the violets bloom,” she said, “and -the leaves shiver on the trees as the flowers come up -between them! But earthly spring, fair brother, is -but a fourth part of Time, and in Eternity a grain, -a wind-blown petal! Choose thou Religion and find -her the true love!”</p> - -<p>She passed into the church. Garin, rising from -the steps, looked about him. While he sat there the -space around had become peopled. Many folk were -entering the doors. As he looked, there turned a -corner eight or ten men walking in procession, behind -and about them a throng. All mounted the -steps, pressing toward the entrance. The most had -pale faces of enthusiasm. Of the crowd some were -weeping, some uttering exclamations of praise and -ecstasy. Garin touched a bystander on the sleeve. -“What takes place?”</p> - -<p>“Do you not see the crosses?”</p> - -<p>“I could not for the crowd,” said Garin. “I can -now. They are going to the land over sea?”</p> - -<p>“Three ships with their companies sail from the -nearest port. All the churches are singing mass and -sewing crosses on those who will take them.”</p> - -<p>“But there is no great and general going -preached to-day,” said Garin. “There has not been -since Saint Bernard’s time.”</p> - -<p>“They say it will soon be preached again,” answered -his informant. “Holy church must find a -way to set off heresy that is creeping in!—These -are ships sailing with help for King Baldwin of<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_131" id="Page_131">[131]</a></span> -Jerusalem. The Pope has granted a great Indulgence, -and many from these parts are going that -they may wipe out their sins.”</p> - -<p>The informant moved toward the doors. Garin -thought of entering and hearing mass and seeing -the crosses sewed on. But then he thought that it -would be wiser to keep his road. He waited until -most of the people had gone into the church, then -found his way to the westward-giving town gate -and passed out into the country. In Foulque’s -purse he had still enough to purchase—not another -Paladin, as he recognized with a sigh, but yet some -horse not wholly unworthy. But this town, he had -been told, had no good horse-market. Such and -such a place, some miles away, was better. So he -walked in his russet and blue and suited so the russet, -sunshiny country and the profound blue arch -of the sky.</p> - -<p>Upon a lonely stretch of the road he came to a -wayside cross, with a gaunt figure carved upon it. -A gaunt figure, too, sat beside the cross, but rose as -he approached and tinkled a small bell that it carried. -As he lifted his mantle and went by with -averted face so that he might not breathe the air -that flowed between, it croaked out a demand for -alms. It came so foully across Garin’s dream that -he shook his head and hurried by. But when an -eighth of a mile was between him and the leper he -stood still, his eyes upon the ground. At last, drawing -out Foulque’s purse, he took from it a coin and<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_132" id="Page_132">[132]</a></span> -going back dropped it into the leper’s cup. “In -Love’s name!” he said.</p> - -<p>The leper widened his lips. “What is Love’s -name?” he asked. “If I had its name, I might make -it do something!”</p> - -<p>Garin left him by the wayside cross, a terrible, -unhelped person. He darkened his mood for him, -or the stress and strain and elevation of the past -week, flagging, left him suddenly in some dead backwater -or black pool of being. He walked on, putting -the miles behind him, but with no springing step -and with a blank gaze. Light and colour seemed to -withdraw from the day and the landscape. The -cross-taking in the town behind him and the leper -by the roadside conjoined with many another fact, -attitude, and tendency of his world. It could show -itself a gusty world of passion and energy, and also -a world of asceticisms, humilities and glooms, of -winter days struggling with spring days, of an inward -fall toward lessening and annihilation. Here -was an hour impetuous and crescive, and here was -its successor passive, resigned and fading, and one -man or woman might experience both. Garin -had been aloft; now he walked in a vale indeed, -and could have laid himself upon its ashy soil and -wept.</p> - -<p>Out of that mood he passed into one less drear. -But he was still sad, and the whole huge world came -into correspondence. Lepers and outcast persons, -prisoners, and slaves, the poor and hopeless, the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_133" id="Page_133">[133]</a></span> -lovers parted, the condemned for sin—Garin -plodded on, his eyes upon the earth.</p> - -<p>A sound of distant bells aroused him. He lifted -his head and looked to see whence it came. At the -base of an olive-planted hill appeared a monastery, -not large, but a simple-seeming, antique place. It -had a church, small too, with a bell-tower. The -country hereabouts was rich with woods and streams -and purple crags, in the distance a curtain of great -mountains. Before him, two miles or so away, Garin -saw a castle crowning a cliff rising from a narrow -valley. It, neither, was large—though larger than -Raimbaut’s castle.... The bells were ringing -sweetly, the light bathed the little vale and washed -the crag and the castle walls. Garin’s sadness fell, in -part, from him. What stayed only gave depth and -charm to all that in that moment met his senses. -In him phantasy turned quickly, acted quickly. -“I like all this,” it said in effect. “And I tell myself -that in the baron who dwells in that castle I shall -find a lord who will knight me!”</p> - -<p>He resolved to go to the castle. He walked -quickly now, with a determined, light step. A spur -of the road led off to the church where the bells were -yet ringing. Between the town he had quitted and -this spot he had met few people upon the way. Nor -were there any here, where the two roads joined. -It lay a wide, clean, sunny space. But as he continued -upon the highway the emptiness of the world -began to change. Folk appeared, singly or in groups,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_134" id="Page_134">[134]</a></span> -and all were going toward the ringing bells. Passing -an old man, he asked, “What is the mass for?” and -was answered, “They are going over sea.”</p> - -<p>A young man, an artisan with a bag of tools in his -hand, approached. Garin stopped him. “What -lord lives in yonder castle?”</p> - -<p>“Sir Eudes de Panemonde,” said the artisan. “He -has taken the cross and is going to the land over -sea.”</p> - -<p>Garin stood still, staring at him, then drew his -breath, and with a jerk of the head went on by. -“The land over sea!” said Garin. “The land over -sea!”</p> - -<p>There was a calvary built by the roadside. Men -and women knelt before it, then rising, hurried on -toward the church. Close by, on a great stone, sat -a cowled monk, stationed there, it would seem, -to give information or counsel. Garin, coming up, -gave and received salutation.</p> - -<p>“Are you for the cross, fair son?” demanded the -monk. “You would give a lusty blow to the infidel! -Take it, and win pardon for even the sins you dream -of!”</p> - -<p>“Why, brother,” asked Garin, “does Sir Eudes -de Panemonde go?”</p> - -<p>“Long years ago,” answered the monk, “when he -was a young man, Sir Eudes committed a great sin. -He has done penance, as this monastery knows, that -receives his gifts! But now he would further cleanse -his soul.”</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_135" id="Page_135">[135]</a></span></p> - -<p>“He is not then young nor of middle-age?”</p> - -<p>“He is threescore,” said the monk.</p> - -<p>Another claimed his attention. Garin moved -away, kept on upon the road. None now was going -his way, all were coming from the direction of the -castle. There must be a little bourg beyond, hidden -by some arm of earth, purple-sleeved. He thought -that he saw in the distance, descending a hill, a procession. -Under a lime tree by the road sat an old -cripple decently clad, and with a grandson and -granddaughter to care for him. Garin again stayed -his steps. “What manner of knight, father, is Sir -Eudes de Panemonde?”</p> - -<p>The light being strong, the cripple looked from -under his hand at the questioner. “Such a knight,” -he said, in an old man-at-arms voice, “as a blue-and-tawny -young sir-on-foot might be happy to hold -stirrup for!”</p> - -<p>“I mean,” said Garin, “is he noble of heart?”</p> - -<p>But the old man was straining his eyes castle-ward. -The grandson spoke. “He is a good lord—Sir -Eudes! Sir Aimar may be a better yet.”</p> - -<p>The procession was seen more plainly. “They -are coming, grandfather!” cried the girl. “Sir Eudes -and Sir Aimar will be in front, and the men they take -with them. Then the people from the castle and -Panemonde following—”</p> - -<p>“Yea, yea!” said the old cripple. “I have seen -before to-day folk go over seas to save the Holy -Sepulchre and spare themselves hell pains! They<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_136" id="Page_136">[136]</a></span> -mean to come back—they mean to come back. -But a-many never come, and we hear no tales of -what they did.”</p> - -<p>The grandson took the word. “Jean the Smith -says that from the castle Sir Eudes walks barefoot -and in his shirt to the church. That’s because of -his old sin! Then, when all that go have heard mass -and have communed, he will dress and arm himself -within the monastery, all needful things having -been sent there, and his horse as well. Then all -that go will journey on to the port.”</p> - -<p>Garin spoke to the girl. “Who is Sir Aimar?”</p> - -<p>“He is Sir Eudes’s son.” She turned upon him a -lighted face. “He is a brave and beautiful knight!”</p> - -<p>“Is he going to the land over sea?”</p> - -<p>“Yes.”</p> - -<p>A hundred and more people were coming toward -the lime tree, the calvary beyond it, the church and -monastery beyond the calvary. Dust rose from the -road and that and the distance obscured detail. -There seemed to be horsemen, but many on foot. -All the people strung along the road now turned -their heads that way. There ran a murmur of voices. -But Garin stood in silence beneath the lime tree, -from which were falling pale yellow leaves. He -stood in a waking dream. Instead of Languedoc he -saw Palestine—a Palestine of the imagination. He -had listened to palmers’ tales, to descriptions given -by preaching monks. Once a knight-templar had -stayed two days with Raimbaut the Six-fingered,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_137" id="Page_137">[137]</a></span> -and the castle had hearkened, open-mouthed. So -Garin had material. He saw a strange, fair land, -and the Christian kingdoms and counties planted -there; saw them as they were not or rarely were, or -only might be; saw them dipped in glamour, saw -them as a poet would, as that Prince Rudel did who -took ship and went to find the Lady of Tripoli—and -went to find the Lady of Tripoli....</p> - -<p>The procession from the castle and the village -beyond coming nearer, its component parts might -clearly be discerned. In front walked two figures, -and now it could be seen that they were both in -white.</p> - -<p>“Ah, ah!” cried the girl beside the old man; and -there were tears in her voice. “Sir Aimar that did -not do the sin, goes like Sir Eudes—”</p> - -<p>The cripple would be lifted to his feet and held so. -Grandson and daughter put hands beneath his arms -and raised him. “So—so!” he said querulously. -“And why shouldn’t the son go like a penitent if -the father does? That’s only respect! But the young -don’t respect us any longer—”</p> - -<p>The procession came close. There rode twenty -horsemen, of whom three or four wore knights’ spurs, -and the others were mounted men-at-arms and esquires. -All wore, stitched upon the mantle, or the -sleeve, or the breast of the tunic, crosses of white -cloth. Behind these men came others, mounted, but -without crosses or the appearance of travellers. They -seemed neighbours to the lord of Panemonde, men of<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_138" id="Page_138">[138]</a></span> -feudal rank, kinsmen and allies. Several might hold -their land from him. There might be present his -bailiff and also the knight or baron who had promised -to care for Panemonde as though it were his own -fief. In the rear of the train came the foot-people, -castle retainers and servants, villagers, peasants, -men, women and children, following their lord from -Panemonde through the first stage of his travel over -sea. Throughout the moving assemblage now there -was solemn silence and now bursts of pious ejaculation, -utterances of enthusiasm, adjurations to -God, the Virgin and the Saints. Or, more poignant -yet, there were raised chants of pilgrimage. When -this was done the people along the roadside joined -their voices. Moreover there were men and women -who wept, and there were those who fell into ecstasy. -Of all things in the world, in this age, emotion was -the nearest at hand.</p> - -<p>Garin felt the infecting wave. At the head of the -train, dismounted, barefoot, wearing each a white -garment that reached half-way between knee and -ankle, bare-headed, moving a few paces before their -own mounted knights, appeared the lords of Panemonde, -father and son. Sir Eudes was white-headed, -white-bearded, finely-featured, tall and lean. His -son, Sir Aimar, seemed not older—or but little -older—than Garin’s self, and what the girl had said -appeared the truth.</p> - -<p>The two came close to the lime tree. Garin, dropping -his mantle, stepped into the road and fell upon<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_139" id="Page_139">[139]</a></span> -both knees, suppliant-wise. “Lord of Panemonde,” -he cried, “let me go with you to the land over the -sea!”</p> - -<p>Sir Eudes and his son stood still, and behind them -the riders checked their horses.</p> - -<p>“What is your name, youth?” asked the first, -“And whence do you come?”</p> - -<p>“Garin Rogier,” answered Garin, “and from Limousin. -I was a younger brother, and have set -out to seek my fortune. Of your grace, Lord of Panemonde, -place me among your men!”</p> - -<p>Sir Eudes regarded him shrewdly. “I make my -guess that you are a runaway from trouble.”</p> - -<p>“If I am,” said Garin, “it is no trouble that will -touch your honour if you take me! I fought, with -good reason, one that was more powerful than I.”</p> - -<p>The other made to shake his head and go on by. -But Garin spread out his arms that he might not -pass and still cried, “Take me with you, Lord of -Panemonde! I have vowed to go with you across -the sea, and so to serve you that you will make me a -knight!”</p> - -<p>The two gazed at him, and those behind them -gazed. He kneeled, so resolved, so energized, so seeing -the fate he had chosen, that as at Castel-Noir, so -now, the glow within came in some fashion through -the material man. From his blue-grey eyes light -seemed to dart, his hair, between gold and brown, -became a fine web holding light, his flesh seemed to -bloom. His field of force, expanding, touched them.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_140" id="Page_140">[140]</a></span> -“In the name of the Mother of God!” cried Garin; -but what the man within meant was, “Because I -will it, O Lord of Panemonde!”</p> - -<p>The people on foot, too far in the rear to see more -than that there was a momentary halting of the -train, began a louder singing.</p> - -<p class="pp6q p1">“<i>Jerusalem!<br /> -Shall the paynim hold thee,<br /> -Jerusalem?<br /> -And shame our Lord Jesus,<br /> -Jerusalem?<br /> -And shame our blessed Lady, his meek Mother,<br /> -Jerusalem?<br /> -So that they say, ‘Why come not the men<br /> -To slay Mahound and cleanse our holy places?<br /> -Where are the knights, the sergeants and the footmen?’<br /> -Jerusalem!<br /> -Who takes the cross and wendeth over seas,<br /> -Jerusalem!<br /> -Will save his soul thereby, raze out his sins,<br /> -Jerusalem!</i>”</p> - -<p class="p1">Sir Eudes de Panemonde stared at the kneeling -figure. But the young knight beside him who had -stood in silence, his eyes upon the suppliant, now -spoke. “Let him go with us, father! Give him to me -for esquire.—There is that that draws between us.”</p> - -<p>The father, who had a great affection for his son, -looked from him to Garin and back again. “He is a -youth well-looking and strong,” he said. “Perhaps -he may do thee good service!”</p> - -<p>The chant, renewed, and taken up from the roadside, -came to his ear. He crossed himself.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_141" id="Page_141">[141]</a></span></p> - -<p>“Nor may I deny to our Lord Jesus one servant -who will strike down the infidel! Nor to the youth -himself the chance to win forgiveness of sins!” He -spoke to Garin. “Stand up, Garin Rogier! Have you -a horse?”</p> - -<p>Garin rose to his feet. “No, lord. But I have -money sufficient to buy one.”</p> - -<p>Sir Aimar spoke again. “Pierre Avalon will sell -him one when we come to the monastery.”</p> - -<p>The father nodded. “Have you confessed and -received absolution?”</p> - -<p>“One week ago, lord. But when we come to the -church I will find a priest. And when I am shriven -I will take the cross.”</p> - -<p>“Then,” said Sir Eudes, “it is agreed, Garin -Rogier. You are my man and my son’s man. As for -becoming knight, let us first see what blows you deal -and what measure you keep! Now delay us no -longer.”</p> - -<p>He put himself into motion, and his son walked -beside him. The mounted men followed, their horses -stepping slowly. Then came the stream afoot, and -Garin joined himself to this.</p> - -<p class="pp6q p1">“<i>Who takes the cross and wendeth over seas,<br /> -Jerusalem!<br /> -Will save his soul thereby, raze out his sins,<br /> -Jerusalem!</i>”</p> - -<p class="p1">Here was the calvary again, and the monk sitting -beside it—here was the church, jutting out from the -monastery—and people about it, and priests and<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_142" id="Page_142">[142]</a></span> -monks—and a loud and deep chanting—and a -mounting sea of emotion. Many broke into cries, -some, phrensied, fell to the earth, crying that they -had a vision.</p> - -<p class="pp6q p1">“<i>To slay Mahound, and cleanse our sacred places!</i>”</p> - -<p class="p1">The mass was sung, the sacrament given those -who were going to the land over sea. Garin found -his priest and was shriven, then knelt with the esquires -and men-at-arms and with them took the -Body. Upon his breast was sewn a white cross. He -had, with all who went, the indulgence. He was delivered -from all the sins that through his life, until -that day, he had committed.</p> - -<p>The mass was sung. A splinter of St. Andrew’s -cross—the church’s great possession—was venerated. -The two de Panemondes, rising from their -knees, passed from the church to the monastery, and -here, in the prior’s room, their kinsmen and peers -about them, they were clothed as knights again. -Without, in a grey square, shaded by old trees, Garin -purchased a horse from Pierre Avalon.</p> - -<p>Sir Eudes and his son came forth in hauberk and -helm. The knights for the ships and the land over -the sea mounted, their followers mounted. Farewells -were said. Those who were going drew into -ranks. A priest blessed them. The people wept and -cried out blessings. The monks raised a Latin chant. -The sky was sapphire, a light wind carried to and -fro the autumn leaves. Sir Eudes de Panemonde<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_143" id="Page_143">[143]</a></span> -and his son touched their horses with their gilded -spurs. The knights followed, the esquires and men-at-arms. -Behind them the voices, at first swelling -louder, sank as lengthened the road between. They -pressed on, and now they lost that sound and lost the -church, the monastery, and the castle of Panemonde.... -Now the leper by the roadside was passed, still -sitting beneath the cross, tinkling his bell. In the -distance was seen the town that Garin had left that -morning. The company did not enter it, but turned -aside into a road that ran to the southward and then -east and then south again. So at last, to-morrow at -sunset, they would come to the port and to the ships -that would bring them to Syria.</p> - -<p>Garin rode in a dream. He thought of Raimbaut -and of Foulque, of Castel-Noir and Roche-de-Frêne, -but most he thought of the Fair Goal, and tried to -see her, in her court he knew not where.</p> - -<hr class="chap" /> - -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_144" id="Page_144">[144]</a></span></p> - -<div class="chapter"> - -<h2 class="p4"><a name="c144" id="c144">CHAPTER XI</a></h2> - -<p class="pch">THIBAUT CANTELEU</p> - -<p class="pn">“<span class="smcap">Who</span> would risk never, risks ever,” said the Princess -Audiart, and moving her rook, checked the marshal’s -king.</p> - -<p>Her cousin Guida, a blonde of much beauty, sitting -watching the game, made a sound of demurral. -The marshal’s hand hovered over a piece.</p> - -<p>“Do not play courtly, Lord Stephen,” said the -princess. “Play fairly!”</p> - -<p>Whereupon Stephen pushed forward a different -piece and, releasing his own king, put hers in jeopardy.</p> - -<p>“Now what will you do, Audiart?” cried Guida. -“You were too daring!”</p> - -<p>“That is as may be,” answered the princess, and -studied the board.</p> - -<p>In the great fireplace of the hall beechwood blazed -and helped the many candles to give light. It was -Lenten tide and cold enough to make the huge fire -a need and a pleasure. In the summer the floor had -been strewn with buds and leaves, but now there lay -upon it eastern cloths with bear-skins brought from -the North. There were seats of various kinds,—settles -or benches, divan-like arrangements of cushions. -Knights and ladies occupied these, or stood, -or moved about at will. So spacious was the hall<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_145" id="Page_145">[145]</a></span> -that these and other folk of the court—pages, -jongleurs, a jester with cap-and-bells, dogs, a parrot -on a swinging perch, two chaplains in a corner, various -clerkly and scholarly persons such as never -lacked in Gaucelm’s court, two or three magnificently -dressed people in the train of a Venetian, half -merchant, half noble, and rich as a soldan, whom -Gaucelm at the moment entertained—gave no -feeling of a throng. The raised or princely part of -the hall, in itself a goodly space, had quiet enough -for rational converse, even for sitting withdrawn -into one’s self, studying with eyes upon the fire -matters beyond the beechwood flame.</p> - -<p>Gaucelm the Fortunate, seated in his great, richly -carved chair, talked with the Venetian. Some paces -away, but yet upon the dais, Alazais held court. -Between, the Princess Audiart played chess with -Stephen the Marshal. The castle and town and -princedom of Roche-de-Frêne and all that they held -were seven years and some months older than upon -that autumn day when the squire Garin had knelt -in the cathedral, and ridden through the forest, -and fought for a shepherdess.</p> - -<p>The years had not made Alazais less beauteous. -She sat in a low chair, robed in buttercup yellow -richly embroidered and edged with fur. She held a -silver ball pierced and filled with Arabian perfumes. -The Venetian had given it to her, and now she raised -it to her nostrils, and now she played with it with an -indolent, slow, graceful movement of her white hands.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_146" id="Page_146">[146]</a></span> -About her were knights and ladies, and in front, -upon a great silken cushion placed upon the floor, -sat a slender, brilliant girl with a voice of beauty -and flexibility and a genius for poetic narration. The -court took toll of such a talent, was taking toll now. -The damosel, in a low and thrilling voice and with -appropriate gesture, told a lay of Arthur’s knights. -Those around listened; firelight and candle-light -made play; at the lower end of the hall a jongleur, -trying his viol, came in at the pauses with this or -that sweet strain.</p> - -<p>At the other end of the broad, raised space Prince -Gaucelm and the Venetian left talk of Venice trade, -of Cyprus and Genoa, and came to status and event -this side the Alps.</p> - -<p>“Duke Richard of Aquitaine plays the rebel to -his father the King of England and quarrels with his -cousin the King of France and wars against his neighbour -the Count of Toulouse. Count Savaric of -Montmaure and his son Count Jaufre—”</p> - -<p>The Princess Audiart won the game of chess, won -fairly. “You couch a good lance and build a good -house, Lord Stephen,” she said. “Yesterday, it was -I who was vanquished!”</p> - -<p>Guida had moved away, joining the group about -the girl on the silk cushion. Stephen the Marshal -took one of the ivory chessmen in his hand and -turned it from side to side. “Montmaure!” he said. -“Montmaure grows more puffed with pride than -mortal man should be!”</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_147" id="Page_147">[147]</a></span></p> - -<p>The princess nodded. “Yes. My lord count sees -himself as the great fish for whom the ocean was -built.”</p> - -<p>The marshal put down the chess-piece and took -up another. “Have you ever seen Jaufre de Montmaure?”</p> - -<p>“No.”</p> - -<p>“I saw him at Périgueux. He is tall and red-gold -like his father, but darker in hue. He has a hawk -nose, and there is a strange dagger-scar across his -cheek.—What is it, my Lady Audiart?”</p> - -<p>The princess was sitting with parted lips and with -eyes that looked far away. She shivered a little, -shrugging her shoulders. “Nothing! A fancy. I -remembered something. But a-many men have -dagger scars.—Jaufre de Montmaure! No, I think -that I never saw him. Nor do I wish to see him. -Let him stay with Aquitaine and be his favourite!”</p> - -<p>“I know not how long that will last. Now they -are ruthless and reckless together, and they say -that any day you can see Richard’s arm around his -neck. But Duke Richard,” said the marshal, “is -much the nobler man.”</p> - -<p>The princess laughed. “You give faint praise! -Jesu! If what they say of Count Jaufre be true—”</p> - -<p>There fell a silence. Stephen the Marshal turned -and turned the chess-piece. “The prince will send -me presently with representations to King Philip -at Paris.”</p> - -<p>“I know. It seems wise to do that.”</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_148" id="Page_148">[148]</a></span></p> - -<p>“I will do my best,” said Stephen the Marshal; -and sat silent again. Then, “I will find at Paris festivals -and tourneys, no doubt, and for Roche-de-Frêne’s -honour and my own, I must play my part in -those matters also.” He put down the chess-piece, -and brought his hands together. “Queens and princesses -may accept, in courtly wise, heart and <i>devoir</i> -of true knights! My Lady Audiart! I plead again -for some favour of yours that I may wear. For, as -God lives, I will wear no other lady’s!”</p> - -<p>The Princess Audiart looked at him kindly, a -little mockingly, a little mournfully. “Stephen—Stephen! -will you be a better or a braver man, or a -fitter envoy to King Philip, with my glove in your -helmet? No, you will not!”</p> - -<p>“I should be a happier man,” said Stephen the -Marshal.</p> - -<p>“Then almost I wish that I might give it to you! -But I cannot—I cannot!” said the princess. “I -love earth, fire, air and water, the stars in heaven, -the people of the earth, and the thoughts in the -mind, but I love no man after the fashion that men -desire!—Turn elsewhere, Lord Stephen!”</p> - -<p>But Stephen the Marshal shook an obstinate -head. “Saint Mark, my witness, I shall wear no -other’s favour!”</p> - -<p>Prince Gaucelm rose, the Venetian with him, and -crossed to Alazais’s side. The girl of the silken cushion -had ended her story. The jongleurs distant in -the hall began to play viol, lute and harp. “Let us<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_149" id="Page_149">[149]</a></span> -go hearken,” said the princess; and, quitting the -chess-table, went to sit beside her step-dame. She -had affection for Alazais, and Alazais for Audiart. -Stephen the Marshal followed. All drew together to -listen to sung poesy.</p> - -<p>A favourite jongleur had come forward, harp in -hand. He was a dark, wiry, eastern-appearing man, -fantastically dressed in brown dashed and streaked -with orange. When he had played a dreamy, rich, -and murmuring air, he began to sing. He sang well, -a fair song and one that was new to a court that was -gracious and hospitable to songs.</p> - -<p>“Ah, that goes,” said the Princess Audiart, “like -the sea in June!”</p> - -<p>“It is like a chanson of Bernart de Ventadorn’s,” -said Alazais, “and yet it is not like him either. -Who made it, Elias?”</p> - -<p>“It may have a sound of the sea,” answered -Elias, “for it came over the sea. I got it from a -palmer. He had learned it at Acre, and he said that, -words and music, the troubadour, Garin de l’Isle -d’Or, made it there.”</p> - -<p>“Oh, we have heard of him! Knights coming -back have told us—But never did we hear his -singing before! Again, Elias!”</p> - -<p>Elias sang. “It is sweet.—<i>The Fair Goal!</i>”</p> - -<p class="p2">A day or two later, in this hall, the Princess Audiart -sat beside her father upon the dais, the occasion -a hearing given to the town of Roche-de-Frêne.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_150" id="Page_150">[150]</a></span> -There was another than Roche-de-Frêne to be received -and hearkened to, namely an envoy, arrived -the evening before, from Savaric, Count of Montmaure. -But the town came first, at the hour that -had been set.</p> - -<p>The hall presented a different scene from that of -the other night. Here now were ranged the prince’s -officers of state, the bailiff-in-chief, executives of -kinds. At the doors were ushers and likewise men-at-arms. -Men of feudal rank stood starkly, right -and left of the dais. Others of the castle population, -men and women, who found an interest in this -happening, watched from the sides of the hall or -from the musicians’ gallery. Below the dais sat two -clerks with pens, ink, sandbox, and parchment. -Before it, in the middle portion of the hall, were -massed fifty of the citizens of Roche-de-Frêne.</p> - -<p>The Princess Audiart sat in a deep chair, her arms -upon its arms. She was dressed in the colour of -wine, and the long plain folds of her robe and mantle -rested the eye. Her throat was bare, around it a -thin chain of gold and a pear-shaped ruby. The -thick braids of her hair came over her gown to her -knee. Between the dark waves, below a circlet of -gold, showed her intent and brooding face.</p> - -<p>Castle and town were used to seeing her there, -beside her father. Years ago—when castle and -town undertook to remember back—it had seemed -strange, but now use and wont had done their work. -She was not fair—they remembered when they had<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_151" id="Page_151">[151]</a></span> -called her “the ugly princess”—but she was wise. -It was usual enough among the great of the earth -for fathers to associate with them sons. Here was -a prince-father who associated with him his daughter. -By degrees Roche-de-Frêne had ceased to wonder. -Now, for a long time, the fact had been accepted. -Strangeness gone, it seemed, for this one -spot on the huge earth, rational.</p> - -<p>The town had digested that great meal of liberties -obtained years ago, that and smaller loaves since -given. It was hungry again; hungry now for no -slight stop-gaps, but for another full and great meal. -For many months it had given the castle oblique -indications that it was hungry. Time was when -Gaucelm, a prince not unbeloved, riding through -Roche-de-Frêne, met almost wholly broad smiles -and faces of welcome. That throughout a year had -been changing. Roche-de-Frêne, at first unconsciously -reflecting growing desires, but then more -and more deliberately, now wore a face of hunger. -Roche-de-Frêne saw its interest, and that another -meal was to its interest. But it did not wholly expect -its lord at once to see that, nor to identify his -interest with their interest. It might, it believed, -have to fight its lord somewhat as other towns fought -theirs. Not with weapons of steel,—it would not -win there,—but with persistent and mounting -clamour and disaffection, and, most effectively, -with making trouble as to tolls, rents, taxes, lord’s -rights, and supplies.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_152" id="Page_152">[152]</a></span></p> - -<p>The deputation included men from every guild. -Here were chief dyers in scarlet, weavers of fine -cloth, makers of weapons, workers in leather, -moulders of candles, and here were traders and -merchants, dealers in wine and handlers of cattle. -Men of substance had been chosen, master workmen -and also master agitators.</p> - -<p>The prince, addressing himself to a man of venerable -aspect, a merchant whose name was known in -far places, asked if he were spokesman. There ran -a murmur through the deputation. It pressed forward -a little, it took on an anxious face.</p> - -<p>The merchant advanced a step and addressed the -dais. “Fair, good lord and my Lady Audiart, as -you both know, I am a judge of merchant’s law, but -have no gift of tongue. I know a cause when it is -good, but God has not made me eloquent to set it -forth to another man—craving pardon, my liege -lord and my Lady Audiart! So I will not speak, may -it please you both. But here is Thibaut Canteleu, -the master of the saddlers—”</p> - -<p>“I had expected,” said Prince Gaucelm, “to hear -from Thibaut Canteleu.—Stand forth, Thibaut!”</p> - -<p>The merchant stepped back. The throng worked -like a cluster of bees, then parted, and out of it came -a man of thirty, square-shouldered and sturdy, with -crisply curling black hair, and black, bold, and -merry eyes. It was evident that he was his fellows’ -chosen and favourite, their predestined leader. The -fifty slanted their bodies toward him, grew suddenly<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_153" id="Page_153">[153]</a></span> -encouraged and bold, hung upon what he should -say. Thibaut Canteleu was magnetic, like a fire for -warmth, an instiller of courage. He made a gesture -of reverence toward the dais.</p> - -<p>The prince smiled slightly. “Well, Thibaut -Canteleu?”</p> - -<p>“Sire and my Lady Audiart,” spoke Thibaut, -“few words suffice when here is right and yon is -wisdom! Sire, these many years, back to the beginning, -have we and our fathers and grandfathers before -us, given to our lords duteous service. When -the town was a poor village, when there were but a -few huts—when the old castle stood—in the old -days before the memory of man, we gave it! And -this castle and the old castle—and you, lord, and -the old lords—have given us succour and protection, -holding your shield above us! Beau sire, we do -not forget that, nor that you are our lord.” As he -spoke he kneeled down on both knees, joined his -hands palm to palm, and made a gesture of placing -them between other hands. “Sire and my Lady -Audiart, many castles have you and not a few towns -and all are your sworn men. Shall this town that -grew up by your greatest castle and took name from -it, be less your man than another? Jesu forbid! -Services, dues, rents and tolls, fair-toll and market-toll, -are yours, and when you summon us we drop -all and come, and if there is war we hold the town for -you while there is breath in us! Yea, and if there -should chance to be needed in this moment moneys<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_154" id="Page_154">[154]</a></span> -for building, for gathering, clothing, and weaponing -men-at-arms, for castle-wants, for pilgrimages or -sending knights to the land over the sea, for founding -of abbeys and buying of books and holy relics, -or for any other great and especial matter, we -stand ready, lord, to raise as swiftly as may be, -that supply.”</p> - -<p>He came to a period in his speech, still kneeling. -“That is good hearing, Thibaut Canteleu!” said -Gaucelm the Fortunate. He spoke with equanimity, -with his large scope of humour. He was as big -as a mountain range, and as became mountains he -seemed to be able to see in various directions. -“Now,” he said, “let us hear, Thibaut, what your -lords must do!”</p> - -<p>“Fair, good lord—”</p> - -<p>“We are yet to guard Roche-de-Frêne from wolf-neighbour -and fox-neighbour, Count Dragon and -King Lion? Have you heard tell of the siege in your -grandfather’s time? But well I wot that the town -has no enemies, that none is jealous of its trade, that -no wolf thinks, ‘Now if I had its market—or if I -had it with its market!’ and no dragon ponders, -‘What if I put forth a claw and drag these weavers -and dyers and saddlers where they may weave and -dye and work in leather for me? When I have them -in my den they may whistle not for new, but for old -freedoms!’—We are yet to keep Roche-de-Frêne in -as fair safety as we may?”</p> - -<p>“Lord, lord,” said Thibaut, “are we not of one<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_155" id="Page_155">[155]</a></span> -another? If you are strong to keep us safe, are we -not strong to make you wealth?”</p> - -<p>“My father gave you freedoms, and often have I -heard him say that he repented his giving! Then I -ruled, and for a time held to that later mind of his. -Then about many matters I formed my own mind, -and in larger measure than he had given, I granted -freedom. For a fair space of time you rested content. -Then you began to ask again. And again, now -this grant and now that, I have given!”</p> - -<p>He ceased to speak, sitting dressed in bronze -samite, with a knight’s belt of finest work, and on -his head a circlet of gold.</p> - -<p>Thibaut Canteleu still kneeled. Now he raised his -black eyes. “Lord, why did you give?”</p> - -<p>“Because it seemed to me right,” said Prince -Gaucelm.</p> - -<p>Thibaut spread his hands. The corners of the -Princess Audiart’s lips twitched. She glanced aside -at Gaucelm the Fortunate, and a very sweet and -loving look came like a beam of light into her face. -She said under her breath, “Ah, Jesu! Judgement in -this matter has been given!” turned her head and -retook the intent and brooding look. Her eyes, that -had marked width between them, received impression -from the length and breadth of the hall. She -gathered each slight movement and change in the -deputation of citizens; and as for Thibaut Canteleu, -she saw that Thibaut, also, grasped that judgement -had been given.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_156" id="Page_156">[156]</a></span></p> - -<p>Prince Gaucelm sat without movement of body or -change of look. His size did not give him a seeming -of heaviness, nor the words that he had spoken take -power from his aspect. He did not seem conscious -of their effect upon others. He sat in silence, then -shook himself and returned to the matter in hand. -“Tell us now, Thibaut Canteleu, what it is that the -town desires.”</p> - -<p>“Lord,” said Canteleu, “we wish and desire to -elect our own magistrates. And our disputes and -offences—saving always, lord, those that are truly -treasonable or that err against Holy Church—we -wish and desire to bring into our own courts and -before judges of our choosing.”</p> - -<p>A sharp sound ran through the hall—that portion -of it that was not burgher. Truly Roche-de-Frêne -was making a demand immense, portentous—The -red was in the faces of the prince’s bailiffs -and in those of other officials. But Gaucelm the -Fortunate maintained a quietness. He looked at -Thibaut Canteleu as though he saw the generations -behind him and the generations ahead. He -spoke.</p> - -<p>“That is what you now wish and ask?”</p> - -<p>“Lord, that is what we wish and ask.”</p> - -<p>“And if I agree not?”</p> - -<p>“We are your merchants and artisans, lord! -What can we do? But are love and ready service -naught? Fair good lord, and my Lady Audiart, we -hold that we ask a just—yea, as God lives, a righteous<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_157" id="Page_157">[157]</a></span> -thing! Moreover, we think, lord, that we plead, -not to such as the Count of Montmaure, but to -Roche-de-Frêne!”</p> - -<p>Behind him spread a deep, corroboratory murmur, -a swaying of bodies and nodding of heads. The -winter sunshine, streaming in through long, narrow -windows, made luminous the positive colours, the -greens, blues, reds of apparel, the faces swarthy, rosy -or pale, the workman hands and the caps held in -them, the smoother merchant hands and the better -caps held in them. It lighted Thibaut Canteleu, still -kneeling, in a blue tunic and grey hose, a blue cap -upon the pavement beside him.</p> - -<p>The prince spoke. “Get you to your feet, Thibaut, -and depart, all of you! A week from to-day, at this -hour, come again, and you shall be answered.”</p> - -<p>Thibaut Canteleu took up his cap and rose from -his knees. He made a deep reverence to the dais, -then stepped backward. All the deputation moved -backward, kept their faces toward the prince until -they reached the doors out of which they passed, -between the men-at-arms. The blur of red and blue -and green, of faces pale or sanguine or swarthy, filtered -away, disappeared. The hall became again all -castle—a place of lord and lady, knight, esquire, -man-at-arms, and page, a section of the world of -chivalry. All around occurred a slight shifting of -place, a flitting of whispers. The prince stirred, -turned slightly in his great chair, and spoke in an -undertone to his daughter. She answered in as low<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_158" id="Page_158">[158]</a></span> -a voice, sitting quite still, her long, slender hands -resting upon the arms of her chair.</p> - -<p>Gaucelm nodded, then spoke to the seneschal -standing to the right of the dais. “Now will we hear -Montmaure’s envoy.”</p> - -<hr class="chap" /> - -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_159" id="Page_159">[159]</a></span></p> - -<div class="chapter"> - -<h2 class="p4"><a name="c159" id="c159">CHAPTER XII</a></h2> - -<p class="pch">MONTMAURE</p> - -<p class="pn"><span class="smcap">There</span> came into the hall, ushered by the seneschal -and walking with Stephen the Marshal to whom had -been confided his entertainment, a knight banneret, -very good-looking, very sumptuously attired, with -an air of confidence verging on audacity. Behind -and attending him were two other knights, lesser -men; behind these, three esquires. All were dressed -with a richness; all, indefinably, stood in a debatable -strip between friend and foe.</p> - -<p>The envoy came before the dais. On yesterday -welcome had been given him, and to-day set to hear -the desires of Count Savaric of Montmaure. Now, -Gaucelm being, by virtue of three castles, his lord’s -lord, the envoy just bent the knee, then straightened -himself and stood prepared to give that forth -which the count had preferred to send by word -of mouth rather than by written letter. There -occurred, however, some delay. A wider audience -than had gathered to the town’s hearing would -come to hear what Savaric of Montmaure had to -say. Lord and lady, knight and squire, were entering, -and now came Alazais, clad in white bordered -with ermine. Her lord made her welcome; the Princess -Audiart, rising, stood until she was seated. Her<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_160" id="Page_160">[160]</a></span> -ladies, fair and gaily dressed, made about her a coloured -cloud. Two that were Audiart’s came and -stood behind that princess.</p> - -<p>At last, quiet falling, the prince once more gave -to Montmaure’s envoy words of welcome, then, -“We should have been glad,” he said, “to have -greeted in friendly wise Count Savaric himself! His -son, too, who is said to be a puissant knight.”</p> - -<p>“So please you, they may come some day to -Roche-de-Frêne, the one and the other,” answered -the envoy. “But now my master, the great count, -is busy at home where he makes a muster of lords -who are his men. At Autafort, with Duke Richard, -is the young count, Sir Jaufre, red-gold, shining and -mighty, like a star of high fortune!”</p> - -<p>“The ‘great count,’” said Gaucelm, with suavity, -“is well employed. And you grow a poet, Sir Guiraut -of the Vale, when you speak of the young count.”</p> - -<p>“Sir,” said Guiraut of the Vale, “he is poet himself -and theme of poets! He is the emerald of -knights, the rose of chivalry! That lady counts herself -fortunate for whom he rides in tournament. -His lance unhorses the best knights, and behind him, -in his quarrels, are the many spears of Montmaure—I -will be highly bold and say the spears, for number -like the trees in the forest, of Duke Richard of -Aquitaine!”</p> - -<p>Gaucelm smiled. “Duke Richard,” he said, -“hath just now, I think, need of his spears before -Toulouse.”</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_161" id="Page_161">[161]</a></span></p> - -<p>Guiraut of the Vale waved his hand. “Count -Raymond will come to terms, and the Duke’s spears -be released. But all this, sir, is not the matter of -my message! Truly, when I think of Count Jaufre -I forget myself in praises!”</p> - -<p>“<i>Guiraut, Guiraut!</i>” thought the Princess Audiart. -“<i>You forget not one word of what you have been -taught to say!</i>”</p> - -<p>Gaucelm the Fortunate spoke with serenity. “A -servant so devoted is as a sack of gold in the count’s -treasury!—Now your message, sir envoy, and the -matter upon which you were sent?”</p> - -<p>Guiraut of the Vale breathed deep, lifted his chest -beneath bliaut and robe of costly stuffs, made his -shoulders squarer, included now in the scope of his -look alike Gaucelm and his daughter.</p> - -<p>“Prince of Roche-de-Frêne,” he said, “it is to my -point—though the Blessed Virgin is my witness I -am not so commissioned!—to cause you and this -priceless lady, the princess your daughter, to see Sir -Jaufre de Montmaure as the glass of the world shows -him, the brightest coal upon the hearth of chivalry! -The world hears of the wisdom of the Princess Audiart—well -wot I that did she see and greet him, she -would value this knight aright! As for him, like his -sword to his side, he would wear there this wisdom! -Fair prince, my master, the great count, would see -Montmaure and Roche-de-Frêne one in wedlock. -Count Savaric of Montmaure offers his son, Count -Jaufre, for bridegroom to the Princess Audiart!”</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_162" id="Page_162">[162]</a></span></p> - -<p>The great hall rustled loudly. Only the dais -seemed quiet, or only the two figures immediately -fronting Sir Guiraut of the Vale. Out of the throng -seemed to come a whisper, electric and flowing, -“Here is a suitor that would hang Roche-de-Frêne -at his belt!” It lifted and deepened, the whispering -and muttering. It took the tone of distant thunder.</p> - -<p>Gaucelm the Fortunate raised his hand for quiet. -When it was attained he spoke courteously to Guiraut -of the Vale. “Count Savaric echoes my soul -when he would have peace and friendliness and not -enmity between Roche-de-Frêne and Montmaure. -Certes, that may be brought about, or this way or -that way! For the way that he advances, it must -be considered, and that with gravity and courteousness. -But, such is the plenitude of life, the same city -may be reached by many roads.”</p> - -<p>“Beseeching your pardon,” said Guiraut of the -Vale, “that is true of many cities, but not, according -to the count my master, of this one!”</p> - -<p>The hall rustled again. The lord of Roche-de-Frêne -sat quietly in his great chair, but he bent -upon Montmaure’s envoy a look profound and -brooding. At last he spoke. “We are not to be -threated, Sir Guiraut of the Vale, into a road whatsoever! -Nor is this city, that is only to be reached -so, of such importance, perhaps, to Roche-de-Frêne -as imagineth the ‘great count.’” Wherewith -he ceased to deal with Guiraut and spoke aside to -his daughter.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_163" id="Page_163">[163]</a></span></p> - -<p>The Princess Audiart rose from her chair. She -stood in long, flowing red shading from the cherry -of her under-robe through the deepened crimson of -the bliaut to the almost black of her mantle. At the -base of her bare throat glowed on its chain of gold -the pear-shaped ruby.</p> - -<p>“To-day, Sir Guiraut of the Vale,” she said, “we -receive the count your master’s fair proffer of his -son for my bridegroom. For my part, I thank the -count for his courtesy and good-will and fair words -to me-ward. The prince my father consenting, one -week from to-day, here in the hall, you shall have -answer to bear back. Until then, the prince my -father, and the princess my fair and good step-dame, -and myself, who must feel the honour your master -does me, and all the knights and ladies of this court -give you fair welcome! An we may, we will make the -days until then pass pleasantly for a knight of whose -valiancy this castle is not ignorant.”</p> - -<p>She spoke without pride or feeling in her voice, -simply, in the tone of princely courtesy. A stranger -could not have told if she liked that proffer or no. -Guiraut of the Vale made obeisance. Prince Gaucelm -rose, putting an end to the audience.</p> - -<p>Two hours later he came to the chamber of the -ugly princess. It was a room set in a tower, large, -with narrow windows commanding three directions. -A curtained archway showed a smaller, withdrawing -room. Rugs lay upon the oaken floor and the walls -were hidden by hangings worked with the wanderings<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_164" id="Page_164">[164]</a></span> -of Ulysses. The bed had silken curtains and a -rich coverlet. Jutting from the hearth came a great -cushioned settle. There were chairs, carven chests -for wardrobe, a silver image of the Virgin, nearby a -row of books. Present in the room when the prince -came were the Lady Guida and the girl who had told -in hall the story of Arthur’s knights. These, upon -his entrance, took embroidery-frame and book, and -disappeared into the smaller room.</p> - -<p>Prince Gaucelm sat in the corner of the settle by -the hearth. The Princess Audiart now stood before -him, and now walked with slow steps to one or another -window and back again. The prince watched -her.</p> - -<p>“Audiart, Audiart!” he said at last; “I doubt me -that the hey-day and summer of peace has passed -for Roche-de-Frêne!”</p> - -<p>“Winter is the time between summers.”</p> - -<p>“Have it so.... It was wise to delay this knight -the week out.”</p> - -<p>“Ah, where is Wisdom? Even the hem of her -mantle turns out to be a stray light-beam in shadow. -But it seemed wiser. So one may think a little.”</p> - -<p>“Now, by God Almighty!” said Gaucelm, “it -needs not much thinking!”</p> - -<p>“No. But still one may take time and speak -Montmaure fair, while we study what will come and -how we meet and defeat it.... Let us deal first -with Thibaut Canteleu and Roche-de-Frêne.”</p> - -<p>Gaucelm the Fortunate, leaning forward, warmed<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_165" id="Page_165">[165]</a></span> -his hands at the fire which was burning with a singing -sound. “Aye, my burghers—Child, all over -the green earth they cease to be mine or another’s -burghers!”</p> - -<p>“They grow to be their own men. Yes.”</p> - -<p>“Gaucelm of the Star thought that idea the -strangest, most abhorrent!—and his father before -him—and so backward into time. It outraged them, -angering the very core of the heart within them! -Late and soon they would have fought the town!”</p> - -<p>“Or late or soon they would have lost.—Does it -in truth anger us that Thibaut Canteleu and the -others should wish to choose their magistrates?”</p> - -<p>“No. Montmaure angers me, but not Thibaut.”</p> - -<p>“Then let us act toward the town from our own -thought and mind, and not from that of our fathers.”</p> - -<p>She paced the floor. “I sorrow for Bishop Ugo’s -disappointment. It will be a sword thrust if we and -the town embrace!”</p> - -<p>“Aye. Ugo desires that quarrel for us.... Well, -then we say to Thibaut Canteleu, ‘Burgher, grow -your own man!’”</p> - -<p>“I counsel it,” said Audiart. “It is right.”</p> - -<p>“And wise?”</p> - -<p>She turned from the window. “Pardieu! If war -is upon us Montmaure’s self might say that it were -wise!”</p> - -<p>The prince pondered it. “Yes—Put, then, Thibaut -Canteleu and the town to one side. Now -Montmaure—Montmaure—Montmaure!”</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_166" id="Page_166">[166]</a></span></p> - -<p>The princess came to the settle and sat down, -leaning her elbow upon a small table drawn before -it. Upon the table lay writing materials, together -with a number of small counters and figures of wood. -There was also a drawing, a rude map as it were, of -the territory of Roche-de-Frêne, bordered by the -names of contiguous great fiefs. She drew this between -them, and the two, father and daughter, -studied it as they talked. With her left hand she -moved the little pieces of wood to and fro. Upon -each was painted a name—names of castles, towns, -villages, abbeys that held from Gaucelm. One piece -had the name of that fief for which Montmaure had -been wont to give homage.</p> - -<p>Gaucelm looked at the long space upon the drawing -marked “Aquitaine.” “Guiraut of the Vale is -a braggart. I know not if he bragged beyond reason -of Richard’s great help.”</p> - -<p>“It is like enough that he did. But Richard Lion-Heart -has often backed another’s quarrel. Pity he -looks not to see if it be stained or clean!”</p> - -<p>“Toulouse still holds him.... Stephen the Marshal -must go quickly to King Philip at Paris.”</p> - -<p>“Yes. Before Guiraut of the Vale’s week is gone -by—or right upon that departure? Right upon it, -I think.”</p> - -<p>“Yes. No need to show Guiraut what you expect.” -He touched the wooden pieces with his -finger, running over the names of his barons. “Letters -must be written and heralds sent. Madonna<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_167" id="Page_167">[167]</a></span> -Alazais and Guida. Raimon Seneschal and Aimeric -the Gay, had best plan shining and dazzling entertainment -for Guiraut and his following.... I know -well that the ‘great count’ is making his muster.”</p> - -<p>“He makes no secret of it.... <i>But one road to -peace for Roche-de-Frêne.</i>”</p> - -<p>“That is not a road,” said Prince Gaucelm, “or it -is a road of dishonour. Savaric of Montmaure and -his son have in them a demon. Waste no words -upon a way that we are not going!”</p> - -<p>He took a quill from the table, dipped it into ink, -and began to write upon a bit of paper, making a -computation of strength. He put down many lords -whose suzerain he was, and beneath each name its -quota of knights, sergeants, and footmen, the walled -towns besides Roche-de-Frêne that called him lord, -the villages, the castles, manors, and religious houses, -Roche-de-Frêne itself, and this great castle that -had never been taken. He added allies to the list, -and the sum of gold and silver he thought he -could command, and with part of it purchase free -companies. He paused, then added help—an uncertain -quantity—from his suzerain, King Philip. -“It is a fair setting-forth,” said Gaucelm the Fortunate. -“Once, and that not so long ago, Montmaure -would not in his most secret dream have -dared—. But he has made favour and wily bargains, -and snapping up this fief and that, played the -great carp in the pool! And now drifts by this fancy -of Aquitaine for Count Jaufre, and he seizes it.”</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_168" id="Page_168">[168]</a></span></p> - -<p>“Aye, it is Richard that gives sunshine to his -war!”</p> - -<p>Gaucelm rose from the settle. “I love not war, -though we live in a warring world. Little by little, -child, it may change.”</p> - -<p>The day passed, the evening of courtly revel, of -paces woven around Guiraut of the Vale. The Princess -Audiart was again in her chamber, her women -dismissed, the candles extinguished, the winter stars -looking in at window, fresh logs upon the hearth -casting tongues of light. These struck in places the -pictured hangings. Here Ulysses dallied with Calypso -and here he met Circe. Here Nausicaa threw -the ball, and here Penelope wove the web and unravelled -it, and here Minerva paced with shield and -spear. The figures were as rude as the hues were -bright, but a fresh and keen imagination brought -them into human roundness and proportion.</p> - -<p>Audiart lay in her bed, and they surrounded her -as they had done since early girlhood when at her entreaty -this chamber in the White Tower had been -given her. She was glad now to be alone with the -familiar figures and with the fitful firelight and -the stars that, when the hearth-blaze sank, she could -see through the nearest window. She was read in the -science of her time; those points of light, white or -bluish or golden, had for her an interest of the mind -and of the spirit. Now, through the window, there -gleamed in upon her one of the astrologers’ “royal” -stars. She by no means believed all that the astrologers<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_169" id="Page_169">[169]</a></span> -said. She was sceptic toward much that was -preached, doubted the usefulness of much that was -done, and yet could act though she doubted. When -doubt, growing, became a sense of probability, then—swerve -her as it might from her former course—she -would act, as forthright as might be, in the interest -of that sense.</p> - -<p>The star shone in the western window—red Aldebaran. -“You look like war, Aldebaran, Aldebaran!” -thought the princess. “Come, tell me if Gaucelm, -the good man, will win over Savaric, the wicked man—You -tell naught—you tell naught!”</p> - -<p>She turned on her side and spread her arms and -buried her face between them, and lay so for some -minutes. Then she rose from the bed, and taking -from a chair beside it a long and warm robe of fine -wool, slipped her arms into its great hanging sleeves, -girded it around her and crossed to the southward-giving -window. She looked forth and down upon -wall and moat, and beyond upon the roofs of Roche-de-Frêne. -A warder pacing the walk below, passed -with a gleam of steel from her sight. A convent bell -rang midnight. There was no moon, but the night -burned with stars. One shot above the town, leaving -a swiftly fading line of light. She saw all the -roofs that lay this way and knew them. Castle and -town, river and bridge, and the country beyond, felt -not seen to-night—they were home, bathed, suffused, -coloured by the profound, the inmost self, -part of the self, dissolving into it. She stood before<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_170" id="Page_170">[170]</a></span> -the window, a hand upon either wall, and her heart -yearned over Roche-de-Frêne. Again a star shot, -below her the warder passed again. Suddenly she -thought of Jaufre de Montmaure, and much disliked -the thought. She spoke to the stars. “Ah,” she -said, “it is much misery at times to be a woman!”</p> - -<p>A week from that day, in the castle hall, crowded -from end to end,—Bishop Ugo here to-day with -churchmen behind him, ranks of knights, Gaucelm’s -great banner spread behind the dais, and against it -his shield blazoned with the orbs and wheat-sheafs -of Roche-de-Frêne and the motto <i>I build</i>; everywhere -a richness of spectacle, an evidenced power, a -high vitality, a tension as of the bow string before -the skilled arrow flies,—Thibaut Canteleu received -the answer for the town, and Guiraut of the Vale the -answer for Count Savaric of Montmaure. Behind -Thibaut was the deputation that had attended before, -the same blues and greens and reds, bright as -stained glass, the same faces swarthy, or lacking -blood, or pink and white of hue. Thibaut knelt in -his blue tunic and grey hosen, his cap beside him on -the pavement.</p> - -<p>Henceforth the town of Roche-de-Frêne should -choose its own officers—mayor, council and others. -Likewise it should give judgement through judges of -its election upon its own offenders—always excepting -those cases that came truly before its lord’s -bailiff-court. Prince Gaucelm gave decision gravely, -without haughtiness, or warning against abuse of<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_171" id="Page_171">[171]</a></span> -kindness, or claim upon increased loyalty, and without -many words. Roche-de-Frêne took it, first, in a -silence complete and striking, then with a long breath -and fervent exclamation.</p> - -<p>Thibaut Canteleu lifted his cap and stood up. -He faced the dais squarely. “My lord the prince -and my Lady Audiart, give you thanks! As you deal -justly, so may this town deal justly! As you fight -for us so may we fight for you! As you give us loving-kindness, -so may we give you loving-kindness! -As you measure to us, so may we measure to you! -May you live long, lord, and be prince of us and of -our children! And you, my Lady Audiart, may you -stay with us, here in Roche-de-Frêne!”</p> - -<p>Whereby it might be guessed that Thibaut and -Roche-de-Frêne knew well enough of Guiraut of the -Vale’s errand. Probably they did. The time was -electric, and Montmaure had been seen for some -time, looming upon the horizon. Roche-de-Frêne, -nor no town striving for liberties, cared for Montmaure. -He was of those who would strangle in its -cradle the infant named Middle Class.</p> - -<p>Gaucelm thanked the burghers of Roche-de-Frêne, -and the Princess Audiart said, “I thank you, -Thibaut Canteleu, and all these with you.”</p> - -<p>The fifty were marshalled aside. They did not -leave the hall; it behooved them to stay and hear -the answer to Montmaure.</p> - -<p>All the gleaming and coloured particles slightly -changed place, the bowstring tension grew higher.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_172" id="Page_172">[172]</a></span> -Here was now Guiraut of the Vale, the accompanying -knights behind him, standing to hear what answer -he should take to the Count of Montmaure. -The answer given him to take was brief, clothed in -courtesy, and without a hint in its voice or eye of -the possibility of untoward consequences. Roche-de-Frêne -thanked Montmaure for the honour meant, -but the Princess Audiart was resolved not to wed.</p> - -<p>Guiraut of the Vale, magnificent in dress and air, -heard, and towered a moment in silence, then flung -out his hands, took a tone, harsh and imperious. -“You give me, Prince of Roche-de-Frêne, an ill -answer with which to return to the great count, my -master! You set a bale-fire and a threat upon the -one road of peace between your land and Montmaure! -And for that my master was foretold by a -sorceress that so would you answer him, I am here -not unprovided with an answer to your answer!” -With that he made a stride forward and flung down -a glove upon the dais, at Gaucelm’s feet. “Gaucelm -the Fortunate, Montmaure will war upon you -until he and his son shall sit where now you and -your daughter are seated! Montmaure will war -upon you until men know you as Gaucelm the Unhappy! -Montmaure will war upon you until the -Princess Audiart shall kneel for mercy to Count -Jaufre—”</p> - -<p>The hall shouted with anger. The ranks of knights -slanted toward the envoy. Gaucelm’s voice at last -brought quiet. “The man is a herald and sacred!—My<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_173" id="Page_173">[173]</a></span> -lord Stephen the Marshal, take up the Count -of Montmaure’s glove!”</p> - -<p>So began the war between Roche-de-Frêne and -Montmaure.</p> - -<hr class="chap" /> - -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_174" id="Page_174">[174]</a></span></p> - -<div class="chapter"> - -<h2 class="p4"><a name="c174" id="c174">CHAPTER XIII</a></h2> - -<p class="pch">THE VENETIAN</p> - -<p class="pn"><span class="smcap">That</span> year Saladin was victor in Syria and the Kingdom -of Jerusalem fell. Many a baron, knight, and -footman was slain that year in the land over the -sea! Those who could escape left that place of burning -heat and Paynim victory. Another crusade -they might go, but here and now was downfall! A -part survived and reached their homes, and a part -perished at sea, or in shipwreck on strange shores.</p> - -<p>Sir Eudes de Panemonde, an old man now and -bent, came home to his castle and fief. With him -came his son, Sir Aimar, a beautiful and brave -knight, all bronzed with the sun, with fame on his -shield and crest. With them came a third knight, -bronzed too by the sun, with fame on his shield -and crest. He had been Garin de Castel-Noir, and -then Garin Rogier, and now, for five years, Sir -Garin of the Golden Island,—Garin de l’lsle d’Or,—known -in the land over the sea for exploits of -an extreme, an imaginative daring, and also for the -songs he made and sang in Frank and English fortress -halls. He was knight and famed knight, and -three emirs’ ransoms stood between him and the -chill of poverty. Two esquires served him. He had -horses,—better could not be bought in Syria! He<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_175" id="Page_175">[175]</a></span> -had brought off in safety men-at-arms in his pay. -He was known for wearing over his mail a surcoat of -deep blue, and on the breast embroidered a bird -with outstretched wings. He was all bronzed and -rightly lean of face and frame, strongly-knit, adventurous, -courteous, could be gay and could be melancholy, -showed not his entire depth, but let the inner -fountain, darkly pure, still send up jets and hues of -being. He and Sir Aimar were brothers-in-arms, -were Damon and Pythias. He was, also, true poet. -Many a song had he made since that first song, made -where he lay upon a boundary stone, by the stream -that flowed past Castel-Noir and on to Our Lady in -Egypt. And always he sang of one whom he named -the Fair Goal. That name was known in Crusaders’ -cities, in tents that were pitched upon desert sands. -He himself was known and welcomed. Comrade-Frank -or Englishman or German cried with pleasure, -“Here comes the singer!”—or “the lover!” as -might be.</p> - -<p>In the castle of Panemonde there was welcome -and feasting. The strong kinsman had not proved -weak in fidelity, but had held afar from the fief eagle -and kite, while at home the Lady of Panemonde, a -small, fair, determined woman, had administered -with great ability castle, village, and the fields that -fed both. Here were Crusaders who, unlike enough -to many, had not come home impoverished, or to -lands ravaged and debt-ridden. And Sir Eudes’s -old sin was now wiped out of the memory of God,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_176" id="Page_176">[176]</a></span> -and he could sit in the sun and wait death with a -peaceful mind. And Sir Aimar was so beautiful and -strong a knight that his suzerain, the Count of Toulouse, -would be sure to give him opportunity by -which he might win fame for Panemonde beyond that -which he had brought from across the sea. Garin de -l’Isle d’Or, too, looked for service that should win -him land and castle.</p> - -<p>Toulouse! No sooner had their ship come to port -than they learned that Aquitaine warred against -Toulouse, Duke Richard claiming the latter through -his mother, Duchess Eleanor. But hardly had they -taken the road to Panemonde before they heard the -news that Richard and Count Raymond had made -in some sort peace, due, perhaps, to hold, and perhaps -due not to hold. Coming to Panemonde they -found that the lady there had furnished Count Raymond -the spears that the fief owed, and that, the -fighting over, some of these had returned. Some -would never return.</p> - -<p>They feasted and rejoiced at Panemonde, giving -and hearing news. Kindred and friends came about -the restored from over the sea. There were feasts -in the hall, exercises in the tilting yard, hunting and -singing. They carried in procession to the monastery -church a vial of water from the Jordan, a -hands-breadth of silk from the bliaut of Joseph -of Arimathea. They gave holiday to the serfs -and remitted a tax. The early summer days went -highly and well.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_177" id="Page_177">[177]</a></span></p> - -<p>Sir Aimar had a sister, Aigletta, a fair, rose-cheeked, -dark-eyed lady. She was fain to hear -stories of Saladin from her brother, and she liked to -listen to the lute and the deep, rich and sweet voice -of Garin of the Golden Island. He sang when she -asked it, seated in hall or in garden, or perhaps resting -by the little stream without the castle wall, -where you looked across the bridge of one arch to -the eastward-stretching highway. Oftenest Garin -sang other men’s songs, but when she asked it, he -sang his own. Aigletta listened with a pensive look. -Her brother found her alone one day in the garden, a -white rose by her knee, her smooth cheek resting -upon her hand. He sat beside her.</p> - -<p>“Sister, ladies more than two or three have -wished that Sir Garin would sing not so much for -them as of them! And still he sings only of the -Fair Goal.”</p> - -<p>“Who is she?” asked Aigletta.</p> - -<p>“Who knows? He knows not himself. But she is -as a hedge of white roses to keep him from other -loves. So I would not have you, sister, scorch the -finger-tip of your heart!”</p> - -<p>“I? Not I!” said Aigletta. “I dip my finger-tips -in cool, running water!—But, truly, to sing for -years of a lady whom he knows not by sight—!”</p> - -<p>“A poet can do even that,” said Aimar. “And it -is not true that he hath never seen her. He saw her -once, where she rested at an abbey, though I am not -sure that he saw her face. But now for years he<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_178" id="Page_178">[178]</a></span> -hath made her famous—loving her, or loving the -love of her.”</p> - -<p>“By my faith!” said Aigletta. “Truly a poet -finds roses where others feel snow!—Well, I am -no thief to take away a lady’s knight! And, -perhaps, as you say, fair brother, I could not do -it.”</p> - -<p>“I think that you could not, fair sister. His Fair -Goal has become to him as air and light, streaming -through the house of being.”</p> - -<p>They had not been long at Panemonde when they -had news that eastward of Toulouse the Count of -Montmaure made bitter war against Roche-de-Frêne, -and that Aquitaine greatly helped Montmaure, -while King Philip, distracted by quarrels -nearer home, sent to the aid of Roche-de-Frêne but -a single company of spears. Now, traditionally, -Toulouse was friendly to Roche-de-Frêne, but Toulouse -was weary of war, and had made pact with -Duke Richard. Moreover Toulouse had present -trouble with a spreading heresy and Holy Church’s -disfavour. Panemonde heard that Montmaure made -very grim war.</p> - -<p>For Sir Garin and Sir Aimar the future pushed its -head above the present’s rich repose. When war -swung his iron bell knights must hearken—not the -old knight, ready now for rest from war, for contemplation -of a Heaven where that bell lay broken—but -the young men, the inheritors of wrath. -Aimar wished to ride to Toulouse, to Count Raymond.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_179" id="Page_179">[179]</a></span> -Garin of the Golden Island would not show -restlessness in the house of his benefactor, but those -who were awake saw him pacing at dawn the castle -wall, or leaning against the battlement, watching -the rose in the east.</p> - -<p>Once he had assured Sir Eudes and his son that he -was of Limousin. But ere he received knighthood he -had told plainly his birthplace and home, name, and -fealty, and that anger of Montmaure against him. -In the land beyond the sea much of the past had -drifted toward remoteness, many degrees of experience -coming between it and him. But now, early -and late, he began to think of Castel-Noir and of -Foulque—Foulque who had heard naught of him -since that night in which they had parted, beneath -the old cypress. The cypress itself rose before him, -and the thought of Sicart and Jean. Paladin might -be living. Tower and crag and wood, the stream that -slipped through the wood—he wished to see them. -Not only Castel-Noir—even Raimbaut’s half-ruinous -hold—even Raimbaut the Six-fingered -himself. Garin half laughed at the thought of the -giant. And he wished to follow down that stream -again—to see again the boundary stone of Our -Lady of Egypt—to find again that little lawn with -the cedar, plane, and poplar—to touch again that -carved seat, so near the laurels....</p> - -<p>He rose from his bed and, while the morning star -was still shining, went down the stair and crossing -the court mounted the castle wall. Here he rested<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_180" id="Page_180">[180]</a></span> -arms against the stone and gazed at the east where -was now a little colour.</p> - -<p>Montmaure warred against Roche-de-Frêne. -Raimbaut held from Montmaure, but Montmaure, -for that fief, was vassal to Roche-de-Frêne. They said -that the war was bitter and far-flung. Garin knew -not if Raimbaut, carrying with him Castel-Noir, -clave to Montmaure, or to the overlord that was -Roche-de-Frêne. There sprang within him wish and -belief that it was to Roche-de-Frêne. Montmaure! -His lips moved, his brow darkened. In imagination -he wrestled again with Jaufre de Montmaure. -Then, athwart that mood, came again, and stronger -than before, a great longing to follow once more -that southward-slipping stream, and to hear the -nightingale in the covert, and to come again through -the laurels to the lawn, the cedar, and the chair of -stone. The east was like a rose. “I will tarry no -longer!” said Garin.</p> - -<p>Five days later he and Aimar rode away toward -Toulouse. Behind them, well mounted, rode their -esquires, bearing lance and shield; behind these, -threescore mounted men. The two knights kneeled -for Sir Eudes’s blessing, they kissed the cheek of -the Lady of Panemonde and of the dark-eyed Aigletta; -they went away like a piece of the summer, -and all the castle out to see them go. Here was the -bridge, here the road, here a lime tree that Garin -remembered, but in an autumn dress. Now it was -green and palest gold, fragrant, murmurous with<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_181" id="Page_181">[181]</a></span> -bees. Farther, and here was the calvary, and the -way that branched to church and monastery. Wherever -there were people, they stopped in their tracks -upon the road, or in the fields dropped their work -and stood to see the knights go by, with the goodly -men behind them. The sky was dazzling blue, the -world drenched with light and heat.</p> - -<p>They meant to lodge that night in the town to -which Garin had come with the scholar, and where -first he had seen the cross taken. Reaching it before -sunset, they looked up at its castle. But said Garin, -“Let us find some hostel! It is not in my mind to-night -to be questioned of the Holy Land, made to -talk and sing.”</p> - -<p>Aimar agreed; could tell, too, that anciently there -was here a famous inn. Passing through the town -gate, they came into streets where the folk abroad -and at door and window turned at the sound of -the clattering hoofs, gazed at the well-appointed -troop, and made free comment. All the place was -bathed in a red light.</p> - -<p>“There are many heretics in this town,” said -Aimar. “Catharists or <i>bons hommes</i>—men of Albi, -as they are now called. The strange thing is that -they seem very gentle, good people! I remember one -who came to Panemonde the year before we took -the cross. He sat beneath the great oak and talked -to any who would listen as sweetly as if Our Lady -had sent him down from Heaven! I wondered—Some -of the people took up stones to stone him, but<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_182" id="Page_182">[182]</a></span> -I would not let him be hurt, and he went away. I -wondered—”</p> - -<p>Garin’s squire, Rainier, had been sent ahead to -the inn, and now rode back to meet them. “Sirs, a -Venetian merchant-lord and his people possess the -house! But I have caught one fair chamber from the -Italian’s clutch and the hostess promises good supper -and soon. For the men, the next street hath the -Olive Tree and the Sheaf and Sickle.”</p> - -<p>They came to the great inn, a low, capacious building -with a courtyard, and in a corner of this a spacious -arbour overrun by a grape-vine. It was sunset. -The knights and their squires dismounted, and a -sumpter mule with its load was brought from the -rear. Men came from the inn stable and took away -the horses. Orders as to the morning start having -been given, the troop from Panemonde trotted off, -down an unpaved lane, to the lesser hostels. The -hostess appeared, a woman of great size with a face -as genial as the sun. She poured forth words as to -preëmpted quarters, regrets, admirations, welcomes, -hints that they were as well off here as at the castle -where the lord was healing him of a grisly wound, -and the lady had yesterday been brought to bed of a -woman-child. Then she herself marshalled the -knights, the squire Rainier following, to a chamber -reasonably large and clean. Maids brought basins -and ewers of water. Rainier busied himself with -squire’s duties. He, too, looked to knighthood, -somewhere in the future. The bright evening light<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_183" id="Page_183">[183]</a></span> -came through the window. Below, under the grape-arbour, -serving-men placed boards on trestles, and -furnished forth a table.</p> - -<p>The inn followed a good fashion, and on these -warm and long days spread supper in the largest, -most open hall that might be. When they descended -to the court it was to find the Venetian great merchant -already at table, sitting with two others above -the salt. He was a lordly person, dressed in prune-coloured -cendal, breathing potencies of travel and -trade. In his air were Venice and her doges, the -equal sea and the flavour of gold.</p> - -<p>He greeted the two knights courteously, and they -returned his greeting. They took their places, the -squire below them. Supper went well, with the hum -of life around the arbour, and the sky’s warm tint -showing between twisted branches of the vine. -When hunger was satisfied, they talked. They who -spent years in the East came back to Europe with -certain Saracenic touches of conduct and manner that -to such as the Venetian told at least part of their -history. He began at once to speak of cities beyond -the sea—of Jaffa, Tripoli, Edessa, Aleppo, Damascus. -In turn Garin and Aimar questioned him of -Venice, paved with the sea.</p> - -<p>When they had eaten, they washed and dried -their hands. Serving-men took away the dishes, -the boards and trestles. The arbour was left, a cool -and pleasant place, with a table whereon was set wine -of the country, with the summer stars brightening<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_184" id="Page_184">[184]</a></span> -overhead, and a vagrant wind lifting the vine leaves. -They tarried under the arbour, drinking the red -wine and talking now of matters nearer at hand than -was Venice or Damascus. Around was the hum of -the town, of the long, warm evening settling into -night. Out from the inn door came voices of the inn -people. The hostess was rating some idle man or -maid. “May Aquitaine take you—!”</p> - -<p>The Venetian, it seemed, was on his way to Barcelona, -had travelled yesterday from the city of -Toulouse. He had left Venice the past winter, and -in the interest of that sea-queen and her trade had -been in many towns and a guest of many courts. Of -late, war, blazing forth, had disarranged his plans, -preoccupied his hosts. He was in a most ill humour -with this warring.</p> - -<p>“Fair sirs, I look not that you should believe me, -but one day it will be found that war is the name of -the general foe! For what, say I, is the mind given -to you?” He drank his wine. “Now the Count of -Montmaure wars against the Prince of Roche-de-Frêne! -In Montmaure trade is broken on the wheel. -In Roche-de-Frêne she is burned at the stake.” He -tapped the wine-cup with his fingers. “Trade is the -true ship—War is the pirate!”</p> - -<p>Garin spoke. “I have hours in which I should believe -that you were right. Love, too, and the finer -thought are broken on the wheel! But it is the way -of the world, and we are knights who go to war.”</p> - -<p>“My lord of Montmaure fights,” said the chant,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_185" id="Page_185">[185]</a></span> -“like a fiend! Or so the Count of Toulouse -told me. The country of Roche-de-Frêne is harried -and wasted. Now he goes about to besiege the town -and the castle.”</p> - -<p>“We have been home no great while,” said Aimar, -“and our castle is in a corner of the land and away -from hearing how the wind blows elsewhere.”</p> - -<p>The Venetian sipped his wine, then set down the -cup. “I spent a week, before this war broke forth, -in the castle of Roche-de-Frêne. I found the prince -a wise man, with for wife the most beauteous lady -my eyes have gazed upon!”</p> - -<p>“Aye!” said Garin. “Alazais the Fair, men called -her.”</p> - -<p>“Just. Alazais the Fair.—While I was in the -castle came the Count of Montmaure’s demand for -the prince’s daughter for wife to his son. Certes, I -think,” said the merchant, “that he knew she would -be refused him! Cause of war, or mask-reason for a -meant war—now they war.”</p> - -<p>“We heard something of all this,” said Aimar.</p> - -<p>Garin spoke again. He was back in mind at -Castel-Noir. “That is the Princess Audiart. I remember -their saying that she was ugly and unlike -others—like a changeling. They were praying for -a son to Prince Gaucelm.”</p> - -<p>“She is not a changeling,” answered the Venetian. -“She is a very wise lady, though she is not -fair as is her step-dame. I saw her sit beside the -Prince in council and the people love her. Now,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_186" id="Page_186">[186]</a></span> -they say, she is as brave as a lion. Pardieu! If I -were knight, or knight-errant—”</p> - -<p>“Are they hard pressed?” Garin spoke, his hands -before him on the table.</p> - -<p>“So ’tis said. Montmaure has gathered a host -and Richard of Aquitaine gives to Count Jaufre -another as great. At Toulouse there was much talk -of the matter.”</p> - -<p>The Venetian emptied his glass, looked up at the -stars, and, the day’s travel having been wearying, -thought of his bed. Presently he rose, his people -with him, said a courteous good night and quitted -the arbour.</p> - -<p>The two knights waited a little longer, sitting in -silence. Then they, too, left the arbour, and, Rainier -attending, went to the chamber that had been given. -Here sleep came soon. But in the first light of morning -Sir Aimar, waking, saw Garin standing, half-clothed, -at the window.</p> - -<p>“Aimar,” said Garin, “you must to Toulouse, -for Count Raymond is your suzerain and Sir Eudes -hath your promise that you follow no adventure -until you have received lord’s leave. But for me -that makes too long delay. I will ride on to Roche-de-Frêne.”</p> - -<p>Sir Aimar sat upon the side of the bed. “I -thought last eve that I saw the knight-errant look -forth from your eye! Will you rescue this ugly princess?”</p> - -<p>“Ugly or fair, she is a lady in distress—and<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_187" id="Page_187">[187]</a></span> -Jaufre de Montmaure does her wrong.... Her father -is my liege lord. I have had a vision too, of my -brother Foulque, hard bestead. I cannot tarry to -go about by Toulouse.”</p> - -<p>Aimar agreed to that. “My father hath my promise.—But -I will follow you as soon as I may. Pardieu! -If what the Venetian said be true, every -knight will be welcome!”</p> - -<p>“I think that it was true.—Ha!” said Garin to -himself, “I see again the autumn wood, and Jaufre -de Montmaure who beats to her knees that herd-girl!”</p> - -<p>The two knights, Garin and Aimar, left the town -together, in the brightness of the morning. But a -mile or two beyond the walls their ways parted. -Their followers were divided between them—each -had now two esquires and more than a score of men-at-arms. -Each small troop came in line behind its -leader. Then the two knights, dismounting, embraced. -Each commended the other to the care of -the Mother of God. They made a rendezvous; -they would meet again, brothers-in-arms, as soon as -might be. They remounted—each troop cried farewell -to the other—Sir Aimar and those with him -turned aside into the way to Toulouse.</p> - -<p>Sir Garin waited without movement until a great -screen of poplars came between him and his brother -knight. Then he spoke to his courser, and with his -men behind him, began to pursue the road to the -country of his birth. As he travelled he saw in fancy,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_188" id="Page_188">[188]</a></span> -coming toward him on this road, Garin de Castel-Noir -clad in a serf’s dress, fleeing from Montmaure, -in his heart and brain hopes and fears, a welling-up -of poesy, and the image of his lady whom he named -the Fair Goal. Garin of the Golden Island, older by -nigh eight years of time and a world of experience, -rich, massy, and intricate, smiled on that other -Garin and saw how far he had to travel—but without -finding as yet the Fair Goal!</p> - -<hr class="chap" /> - -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_189" id="Page_189">[189]</a></span></p> - -<div class="chapter"> - -<h2 class="p4"><a name="c189" id="c189">CHAPTER XIV</a></h2> - -<p class="pch">OUR LADY IN EGYPT</p> - -<p class="pn"><span class="smcap">The</span> air quivered above all surfaces; light and heat -spoke with intensity. But those who had been -long years in Syria were used to a greater intensity. -They travelled now, not minding heat and glare. -They rode through a little village that Garin remembered, -and at the farther end passed a house -with mulberry trees. Children played in their shade. -“Ha!” said Garin of the Golden Island. “Time’s -wheel goes round, and the fountain casts new -spray!”</p> - -<p>Rainier the squire knew this country-side. A certain -castle was placed conveniently for dinner-time, -and to this they drew from the high road. Where -you did not war, there obtained, in the world of chivalry, -a boundless hospitality. The lord who held -this castle made all welcome. A great bell rang; here -was dinner in the hall.</p> - -<p>From the castle tower one saw afar, beyond the -boundaries of Toulouse. The baron could give information. -Duke Richard had spared Jaufre de -Montmaure two thousand spears and ten thousand -men-at-arms, archers, and crossbowmen. Montmaure, -himself, had a great force. Roche-de-Frêne -fought strongly, but the land suffered. Stories were<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_190" id="Page_190">[190]</a></span> -told of the ways of Montmaure. Garin made enquiry -as to the Abbey of Saint Pamphilius, not far -to the northward. “Saint Pamphilius? Safe as -though it held by God the Father’s beard! Years -ago it chose Montmaure for advocate. Aye! Abbot -Arnaut lives.” But the lord of the castle could not -tell of Raimbaut the Six-fingered, if he held with -Montmaure, or, passing him, clave to Roche-de-Frêne.</p> - -<p>The castle would have had them bide the night, -and the Crusader discourse of the Holy Land. But -Garin must on. His imagination was seized; what -lay before him drew him imperiously, like a loadstone. -He bade the lord and lady of the castle farewell, -mounted his horse, Noureddin, and with his -men behind him took the road. The earth lay -drowned in light, the air seemed hardly a strip of -gauze between it and the sun. They must ride somewhat -slowly through the afternoon. At last the heat -and dazzle of the day declined. Straight before them -lay the Abbey of Saint Pamphilius, and that were -good harbourage for the night, but not for any who -meant to enter battle upon the side of Roche-de-Frêne! -The night would be dry, warm and bright. -The men had food with them, in leathern pouches. -Forest lay to the right of the road.</p> - -<p>Garin spoke to his squires: “It is to my fancy to -sleep in this wood to-night. Once I did sleep here, -but without esquires and men-at-arms and war-horse.”</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_191" id="Page_191">[191]</a></span></p> - -<p>It chanced that the moon was almost full. Garin -watched it mount between the branches of the trees, -and the past rose with it to suffuse the present. He -could recall the moods of that night, but they seemed -to him now frail and boyish.... Dawn broke; his -men rose from where they lay like brown acorns. -Nearby, the stream that ran through the wood -widened into a pool. Knight, squires, and men-at-arms -laid aside clothing, plunged into the cool element, -had joy of it. Afterwards, they breakfasted -sparely. When the sun lighted the hill-tops they -were again upon the road.</p> - -<p>The road now trended eastward. They came to a -chapel that was a ruin. Beside it, scooped from the -hillside and shaded by an oak, appeared a hermit’s -cell. At first they thought that it was empty, but at -length a grey figure, lean and trembling as a reed, -peeped forth.</p> - -<p>“Who broke down the chapel, father?” asked -Garin.</p> - -<p>The hermit stared at him. “Fair son and sir -knight, are you from the Toulouse side?”</p> - -<p>“We have ridden two days from the westward. -This is the boundary?”</p> - -<p>The hermit looked with lack-lustre eyes, then -wagged his head up and down. “Aye, fair knight -and son! The lords of Toulouse and Roche-de-Frêne -built the chapel, each bearing half the cost. But a -band belonging to the Lord of Montmaure came -this way. Its captain said that he pulled down only<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_192" id="Page_192">[192]</a></span> -Roche-de-Frêne’s half—but all fell! The Holy -Father at Rome ought to hear of it!”</p> - -<p>“Are Montmaure’s men still at hand?”</p> - -<p>The hermit shook his head. “They harrowed the -country and went. I saw flames all one night and -heard the cries of the damned!”</p> - -<p>Garin and those behind him rode on. Immediately -the way that once had been good became bad. A -bridge had spanned a swift stream, but the bridge -was destroyed. A mill had stood near, but the mill -was burned. There seemed no folk. They rode by -trampled and blackened fields where no harvest -sickles would come this year. The poppies looked -like blood. Here, in a dip in the land, was what had -been a village, and upon a low hill a heap of stones -that had been castle or armed manor-house. There -were yet fearful odours. They rode by a tree on -which were hanged ten men, and a place where -women and children, all crouched together, had -been slain. Here were more blackened fields, -splashed with poppies. The sun, now riding high, -sent into every corner a searching light.</p> - -<p>Garin and his men, leaving the ruin, rode through -a great forest. They rode cautiously, keeping a lookout, -neither singing nor laughing nor talking loudly. -But the forest slept on either hand, and there was -nothing heard but the hoofs of their horses, the song -of birds, and the whirr of insects.</p> - -<p>This forest had been known to Garin the squire. -He was going now toward Raimbaut’s keep. Around<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_193" id="Page_193">[193]</a></span> -were the wide-branching trees, the birds flew before -them, the startled hare ran, the deer plunged aside -into the deeper brakes, but they met with no human -life. Travelling so, they came to a broken country, -wooded hills, grey falls of cliff, streams that brawled -over stony beds. Garin looked from side to side, -recognizing ancient landmarks. But when they rode -out from the dwindling wood upon fields that should -have shone and shimmered, yellowing to the harvest—these -fields, too, were black with ruin. Here was -a meadow that Garin knew. But no cattle stood -within it, seeking the shade of the trees, and nowhere, -field or meadow or narrow road, were there -people. All lay silent, without motion, under the -giant strength of the sun.</p> - -<p>The road passed under the brow of a hill, turned, -and he saw where had been the grim old keep and -tower and wall where he had served Raimbaut the -Six-fingered. In its shadow had clustered peasants’ -huts. All was destroyed; he saw not a living man, -not a beast, not a dog. “How like,” said Garin of -the Golden Island, “are Paynimry and Christendom!”</p> - -<p>He checked his men, and alone rode to the ruins. -Dismounting, he let Noureddin crop the parched -grass while he himself entered through a breach in -the wall, the gateway being blocked by fallen masonry. -All was desolate under the sun. The well -had been filled with stones. Climbing a mass of -débris, crushed wall and fallen beam and rafter,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_194" id="Page_194">[194]</a></span> -he attained the interior of the keep. Here had been -sword and fire; here now were the charred bones, -here the writing that said how had fought Raimbaut -the Six-fingered!</p> - -<p>Garin came out of the keep and crossed the court, -and, stepping through the ragged and monstrous -opening in the wall, called to his men. Three hours -they worked, making a grave and laying within it -every charred body they found, and making one -grave for the forms of a giant and of a woman who -had fallen beside him.</p> - -<p>“I knew this castle,” said Sir Garin. “This was -its lord, and he could fight bravely! Nor did he fail -at times of kindness done. This was its lady, and -she was like him.”</p> - -<p>At last they rode away from Raimbaut’s castle. -First, came other fields that this storm had struck, -then a curving arm, thick and dark, of forest. But, -on the further edge of this flowed a stream where -the bridge was not broken, and nearby was the -hut of one who burned charcoal, and the man and -woman and their children were within and living. -They fell upon their knees and put up their hands -for mercy.</p> - -<p>“We are not Montmaure!” said Garin. “Jean -Charcoal-burner, have you heard if they have done -the like to Castel-Noir?”</p> - -<p>The charcoal-burner, of elf locks and blackened -skin, stared at the knight, and now thought that he -knew him, and now that he knew him not. But<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_195" id="Page_195">[195]</a></span> -he had comfort to give as to Castel-Noir. He had -been there within three days, and it stood. It was so -small a tower and out of the way—Montmaure’s -band had ignored it, or were gone for the time to set -claws in other prey. “Sir Foulque?—aye, Sir -Foulque lived.”</p> - -<p>Garin came to Castel-Noir in the red flush of -evening. The fir wood lay quiet and dark, haunted -by memory. The stream was as ever it was. Looking -up, he saw the lonely, small castle, the round -tower—saw, too, a scurrying to it, from the surrounding -huts, of men, women and children. They -went like partridges, up the steep, grey road, across -the narrow moat, and in at the gate. The drawbridge -mounted, creaking and groaning.</p> - -<p>“Ah,” said Garin with a sob in his throat, “Foulque -thinks that we are foes!”</p> - -<p>He left his men among the firs, and rode on -Noureddin up the path known so well—so well! -He rode without spear and shield, and unhelmed. -Watchers from loophole or battlement might see -only a bronzed horseman, wearing a blue surcoat, -worked upon the breast with a bird with outstretched -wings. When he came to the edge of the moat, beneath -the wall, he checked Noureddin, sat motionless -for a minute, then raised his voice. “Castel-Noir!”</p> - -<p>A man looked over the wall. “Who and whence, -and, Mother of God! whose voice are you calling -with?”</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_196" id="Page_196">[196]</a></span></p> - -<p>“Sicart!” called Garin, “remember eight years, -come Martinmas, and the serf’s dress you found me! -Put the bridge down and let me in!”</p> - -<p>Foulque met him in the gateway.</p> - -<p>“Brother Foulque—”</p> - -<p>“Garin, Garin—”</p> - -<p>Fir wood, crag, and black castle travelled from -the sun, faced the unlighted deeps. But an inner -sun shone and warmed. The squires, the troop, had -welcome and welcome again. Nothing there was -that Sicart and Jean and Pol and Arnaut and all the -others would not do for them! Comforts and treasures -were scant, but the whole was theirs. The saints -seemed benignant, so smoothly and fragrantly did -matters go! Pierre found savoury food for all. And -there was forage for the horses. And the courtyard -on a summer night, with straw spread down, was -good sleeping. But before there was sleeping, came -tale-telling—a great ring gathered, with the round -moon looking down, and Castel-Noir men and boys -and women and girls from the huts below, listening—listening—gaping -and exultant! Sir Garin of -the Golden Island—and how he had taken the -cross—and what he had done in the land over the -sea, and the tale-tellers with him!</p> - -<p>Fairyland had somehow come to Castel-Noir—a -warm Paradise of pride in the native-born, relish -for brave deeds, forward felt glow from perhaps -vastly better days! Through all ran a filtering of -Eastern wonder. There was, too, simple veneration<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_197" id="Page_197">[197]</a></span> -for the slayers of paynims, for beings who had -travelled in the especial country of God! The pride -in Garin was strong. They had thought him dead, -though some had insisted that, maybe, one day he -would come back, a knight. These now basked in -their own wisdom. But even they had not dreamed -the whole fairy tale out! Sir Garin of the Golden -Island—and how he got that name—and how he -fought and how he sang and how lords and kings -were fain of his company—and his brother-in-arms, -Sir Aimar—and the three emirs’ ransoms! The -people of Castel-Noir forgot Montmaure and danger, -and were blissful that night beneath the round and -golden moon.</p> - -<p>Garin and Foulque bided within the hall, talked -there, Garin pacing up and down while Foulque the -Cripple gloated on him from his chair. They had -torchlight, but the moonlight, too, streamed in. -Garin charted for his brother the unknown sea of -the years he had been away. Foulque followed him -to Panemonde, to the port, to Syria—and then all -the events and fortune there!</p> - -<p>“Ha, ha!” laughed Foulque. “Ha ha! ha ha! Who -knows anything in this world? Oh, dire misfortune -that it seemed to have fought with Jaufre de Montmaure! -And here he has given you knighthood and -fame and ransom-wealth! Ha, ha, ha! Let me laugh! -Yesterday I was weeping.”</p> - -<p>“If you push things in that direction,” said Garin, -“before it was Jaufre it was that herd-girl with the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_198" id="Page_198">[198]</a></span> -torn dress and streaming hair! There is a path from -all things to all things else.”</p> - -<p>He stopped before a window embrasure and looked -out upon the moon-flooded court and the ring of his -men and the Castel-Noir men. When he turned -back to Foulque they took up the years as they had -gone for the black castle. They had gone without -great events until had befallen this war. That -being the case, the two were presently at the huge -happenings in the princedom of Roche-de-Frêne. -Foulque knew of the fate of Raimbaut the Six-fingered. -Jean the Charcoal-burner had brought the -news. Since that, Castel-Noir had stood somewhat -shiveringly upon its rock, the probabilities being -that its own hour was near.</p> - -<p>And yet Foulque, and Garin with him, agreed -that since the band that had entered this fief and -beat down Raimbaut and his castle was now gone -without finding Castel-Noir, it might not think to -return upon its tracks, leaving richer prey for sparrow -or hare. Foulque considered that the ravagers -had been Free Companions, mercenaries bought by -Montmaure from far away, not knowing nook and -corner of the country they devastated. Montmaure, -angered, had made his threat when Raimbaut, renouncing -the immediate allegiance, held for Roche-de-Frêne. -He had kept it, sending fire and death. -But Castel-Noir might stay hidden in its fir wood. -Foulque, a born sceptic, here showed one contrary -streak. He was credulous now of all evil from Jaufre<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_199" id="Page_199">[199]</a></span> -de Montmaure being turned aside from aught that -pertained to Garin. “Certes, not after procuring -you knighthood and gold!”</p> - -<p>Garin learned of the war at large. In the spring -Prince Gaucelm had gathered a great host. Under -Stephen the Marshal it had met and beaten as great -a number, Count Savaric at the head. Savaric had -been wounded, thrust back, him and his host, into -his own land. Then had come with a greater host -Jaufre de Montmaure, like an evil wind. His father, -too, recovering, rushed again from Montmaure. -Prince Gaucelm and all his knights and a host of -men withstood them. Everywhere there was ringing -of shields and flying of arrows. Where Montmaure -came, came blight. A walled town had been -taken and sacked; another, they said, was endangered. -Rumour ran that Roche-de-Frêne itself must -stand a siege. Montmaure was gathering a huge -number of spears and countless footmen, and had an -Italian who was making for him great engines. But -naught this side waking to find to-night a dream -could now weaken Foulque’s optimism! “Roche-de-Frêne’s -no ripe plum to be picked and eaten! Pick -thunderbolts from an oak that will outlive Montmaure!”</p> - -<p>Foulque was reconciled, when the talk came that -way, to Garin’s early departure from Castel-Noir. -Neither dreamed but that he, knight and able to -help, must of course go. It was his <i>devoir</i>. But he -might bide a few days. It would presently be seen<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_200" id="Page_200">[200]</a></span> -if the place were indeed moderately safe, left a small, -overlooked backwater. Foulque’s thin face worked -with laughter. “Ha, Jaufre!—and what was it -that he said touching flaying alive and razing your -house? Jaufre makes me sport!” His thought -drove aside from the pleasant spice of Jaufre’s men -preserving just Castel-Noir. “And now he would -wed the princess!”</p> - -<p>Garin, in his pacing, crossed a shaft of moonlight. -“What manner of lady is the Princess Audiart?”</p> - -<p>“Not fair, but wise, they say. I know not,” said -Foulque, “if women can be wise.”</p> - -<p>“Ah, yes, they may!”</p> - -<p>“I agree,” said Foulque, “that there is wisdom -somewhere in not helping into the world sons of -Jaufre, grandsons of Savaric!—It is said that the -townspeople love the princess.”</p> - -<p>Garin crossed again the shaft of light. “No harm -has come to Our Lady in Egypt?”</p> - -<p>“No harm that I have heard of. Count Savaric -is known for a good son of the Church! He will not -harm the bishop’s lands either. I hear report—I -have heard that the Abbot of Saint Pamphilius -saith—that if Montmaure conquers, Bishop Ugo -will not be less but greater in Roche-de-Frêne.—But -what,” said Foulque, “do I know in truth to tell -you? A cripple, chained to this rock in a fir wood! -Little of aught do I know—save that there is -wickedness on earth!” He tried to be sardonic, but<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_201" id="Page_201">[201]</a></span> -could not. “Eh!” said Foulque. “Three emirs? -And at what did they hold their lives?”</p> - -<p>At last Castel-Noir slept, the fair moon looking -down. The next day, still there held fairyland. -When another day came, Garin took Paladin that -had waited for him all these years, and, followed by -Rainier, rode to Our Lady in Egypt. He wished to -see the Abbess and ask of her a question. Eight -years ago, come Martinmas, what lady had rested, -a guest, with Our Lady in Egypt?</p> - -<p>The summer woods were passing sweet—fresh -and sweet under whatever strength of sun to those -who had come from Syrian towns and Syrian suns. -Garin rode with an open heart, smelled sweet odour, -heard every song and movement, praised the green -wood and the blue sky. At last they saw the olives -and the vineyards of Our Lady in Egypt—at last -the massy building. And now Paladin stopped before -a portal that Garin remembered.... All these -years, Jaufre de Montmaure had been in the back -of his head, but hardly, it may be said, the herd-girl -who first had struggled with Jaufre. Memory might -have brought her oftener to view, but memory, -when it came to women, had been preoccupied with -the Fair Goal—with the lady who wore the blue, -fine stuff, the gem-wrought girdle, the eastern veil! -But now, sudden and vivid as life, came back the -herd-girl who had ridden behind him upon this -horse, who, at the convent door under the round -arch, had looked back at him through dark and<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_202" id="Page_202">[202]</a></span> -streaming hair. The portress opened to her and she -entered—rushed back the very tone and sense of -blankness and of wonder with which he had regarded -the closed door! “Saint Agatha! how that -tastes upon my tongue!” said Garin.</p> - -<p>He sat staring at the convent portal. Around was -midday heat and stillness. Drowned in that past -day, he gave no heed to a sound of approaching -horsemen. But now Rainier came to his side. “Sir, -there are armed men coming! Best knock and gain -entrance—”</p> - -<p>But Garin turned to see who came. A small party -rode into sight beneath the convent trees—not -more than a dozen horsemen. One bore, depending -from a lance, a pensil of blue—the blue of Roche-de-Frêne. -It hung unstirring in the windless noon. -In the air of the riders there was something, one -knew not what, of dejection or of portent. They -came neither fast nor slow, the hoofs of the horses -making a sullen sound.</p> - -<p>Garin looked. At times there blew to him, through -appearances, a wind from behind appearances. It -gave no definite word, but he heard the rustling of -the sibyl’s leaves. He drew Paladin a little to one -side and awaited the riders. From the convent -chapel rose a sound of chanting—the nuns at their -office.</p> - -<p>The cluster of horsemen arrived in the space before -the convent door. The one who rode in front, -a knight with grizzled hair and a stern, lean face,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_203" id="Page_203">[203]</a></span> -directed an enquiry to the mounted men here before -him.</p> - -<p>Garin answered. “I am of Castel-Noir—ridden -here to-day because there is that which I would ask -of the Abbess Angela.”</p> - -<p>The grizzled knight shook his head. He spoke to -one of those behind him. “Strike upon the door, -Raynold!” then, turning in his saddle, addressed -himself to the stranger knight in the blue surcoat. -“Fair sir, my lady Abbess, methinks, will not wish -to deal to-day with any matters that may be set -aside.”</p> - -<p>“I see that you bring heavy tidings,” said Garin. -“I fight for Roche-de-Frêne. What are they?”</p> - -<p>“Well may you say that they are heavy! Our -lord, Prince Gaucelm, is slain.”</p> - -<p>“The prince is slain!”</p> - -<p>“There has been a great battle, ten leagues from -here.... My master!” cried the grizzled knight -with sombre passion. “The best prince this land -has known—Gaucelm the Good!”</p> - -<p>Garin knew that the head of Our Lady in Egypt -was a sister of the dead prince. No longer was it a -day in which, after years and at last, he might ask -his question. As it had waited, so must it wait still. -He and Rainier rode back to Castel-Noir. The next -day, with his troop behind him, he left Foulque, the -black tower, and the fir wood, and the next he joined -the host of Stephen the Marshal where it lay confronting -Montmaure.</p> - -<hr class="chap" /> - -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_204" id="Page_204">[204]</a></span></p> - -<div class="chapter"> - -<h2 class="p4"><a name="c204" id="c204">CHAPTER XV</a></h2> - -<p class="pch">SAINT MARTHA’S WELL</p> - -<p class="pn"><span class="smcap">The</span> Princess Audiart crossed the river that made a -crescent south and east of the town,—her errand, -to see how went the defences on that side. Two -stout towers reared themselves there, commanding -the river-bank, guarding the bridge-head. Beyond -the towers workmen in great numbers deepened a -fosse, heaped ramparts, strengthened walls, and in -the earth over which Montmaure must advance -planted sharpened stakes and all gins and snares -that the inventive mind might devise. To hold this -bridge was of an importance!—South and east -stretched the yet unharried lands and the roads by -which must come in food for the town, the roads by -which it might keep in touch with the world without, -the roads by which might travel succour!</p> - -<p>The day was a blaze of light, a dry and parching -heat. The river ran with a glitter of diamonds. The -stone of the many-arched bridge threw back light. -The hill of Roche-de-Frêne, the strong walls, the -town within them, the towered, huge church, the -castle lifted higher yet, swam in radiance. They lost -precision of outline, they seemed lot and part of the -daystar’s self.</p> - -<p>With the princess there rode three or four of her<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_205" id="Page_205">[205]</a></span> -captains. Clearing the river they must turn their -horses aside, out of the way of a multitudinous, approaching -traffic that presently, embouching upon -the bridge, covered it from parapet to parapet. -Noise abounded. A herd of cattle came first, destined, -these, for the slope of field and meadow between -the stream and the town walls. Wagons followed—many -wagons—heaped with provision -and drawn by oxen. They held grain in quantity, -fodder, cured meat, jars of oil, dried fruit, pease and -beans, whatever might be gathered near and far -through the land. They came, a long line of them, -creaking slow, at the head of the oxen sometimes -a man walking, oftener a lad or a woman. They -kept the princess and those with her in the glare -of the sun. A knight spoke impatiently. “They -creep!”</p> - -<p>“They creep because they are heavily laden,” -said the princess. “Let us thank our Lady Fortune -that they creep!”</p> - -<p>The wagons gave way to a flock of sheep, bleating -and jostling each the other. Followed swine with -their herd, goats, asses bearing panniers from which -fowls looked unhappily forth, carts with bags of -meal, a wide miscellany of matters most useful to a -town that Montmaure proposed to besiege—with -Aquitaine behind him! The princess noted all. The -stream flowed by her orders, and her mind appraised -the store that was adding itself this morning to the -store already gathered in town and castle. She<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_206" id="Page_206">[206]</a></span> -turned her horse a little and gazed afar over the green -and tawny country.</p> - -<p>Out of the sheen of the day came from another -direction a straggling crowd. Nearer at hand it -resolved itself into a peasant horde—a few men -neither strong nor weak, but more very aged men, -or sick or crippled, many women from young to old, -many children. They also had carts, four or five, -heaped with strange bits of clothing and household -gear. Lying upon these were helpless folk—an old, -palsied man, a woman and her day-old babe. They -came on with a kind of deep, plaintive murmur, like -a wood in a winter blast.</p> - -<p>“Ah, Jesu!” said the princess. “More driven -folk!”</p> - -<p>As they came near she pushed her horse toward -them, bent from her saddle, questioned them. They -had come from a region where Montmaure was -harrying—they had a tale to tell of an attack in the -night and a burned village. Unlike many others, -these had had time to flee. When they found themselves -upon the road, they had said that they would -go to Roche-de-Frêne and tell the princess, the -prince being dead.</p> - -<p>“Aye, aye!” said the princess. “Poor folk—poor -orphans!”</p> - -<p>She gave them cheering words, then sat as in a -dream and watched them faring on across the bridge -and up the climbing road to the town gate.</p> - -<p>There spoke to her one of her captains, a grey,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_207" id="Page_207">[207]</a></span> -redoubtable fighter. “My lady, you are not wise -to let them enter! In the old siege your great-grandfather -let not in one useless mouth!”</p> - -<p>“Aye!” said the princess. “When I was little I -heard stories from my nurse of that siege. A great -number died without the walls. Men, women, and -children died, kneeling and stretching their arms to -the shut gates!—That was my great-grandfather. -But I will not have my harried folk wailing, kneeling -to deaf stone!—Now let us ride to see these -barriers.”</p> - -<p>The day was at the crest of light and heat when -with her following she recrossed the bridge, rode up -the slope of summer hill, and in at the gate of the -town called the river-gate. Everywhere was a movement -of people, a buzzing sound of work. The walls -of Roche-de-Frêne were strong—but nothing is so -strong that it cannot be strengthened! Likewise -there were many devices, modern to the age or of -an advanced efficiency. The princess had sent for -a master-engineer, drawing him with rich gifts to -Roche-de-Frêne. The town hummed like a giant -hive, forewarned of the strong invader. Prince Gaucelm -lay in the crypt under the cathedral. At night -the horizon, north and west, burned red to show the -steps of Montmaure. Over there, too, was Stephen -the Marshal with a host—though with never so -great a host as had Montmaure whom Aquitaine -aided. In the high white light and dry heat Roche-de-Frêne, -town and castle, toiled busily. The castle<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_208" id="Page_208">[208]</a></span> -looked to the town, the town looked to the castle. -In the town, by the walls, were gathered master-workman -and apprentice, not labouring to-day at -dyeing and weaving and saddlery, at building -higher the church-tower; labouring to-day at thickest -shield-making; studying to keep out sack and -fire, death and pillage, rape and ruin, studying to -keep out Montmaure.</p> - -<p>Thibaut Canteleu was mayor, chosen by the town -last spring. He made the round of the walls with -the princess. “By all showing,” said Thibaut, “the -walls are greater and stronger than in the old siege.”</p> - -<p>“Not alone the walls,” the princess answered.</p> - -<p>“You are right there, my Lady Audiart! We are -more folk and stronger. We begin this time,” said -Thibaut, “well-nourished, and, after a manner of -speaking, free. Also, which is a very big thing, liked -and liking.”</p> - -<p>“I would, Thibaut Canteleu, that my father were -here!”</p> - -<p>“Well, and my lady,” said Canteleu, “I think -that he is. My father, rest his soul! was a good and -a bold man, and, by the rood, I think that he is -here—only younger and something added!”</p> - -<p>The princess stayed an hour and more by the -walls, moving from point to point with the captains -and directors of the work. At one place a company -of men and women were seated, resting, eating bread, -salad, and cheese, drinking a little red wine. She -asked for a bit of bread and ate and drank with them.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_209" id="Page_209">[209]</a></span></p> - -<p>A child clung to its mother’s skirt, hiding its face. -“It’s the princess—it’s the princess—and I have -not on my lace cap, mother!”</p> - -<p>Audiart smiled down on her. “I like you just as -well without!” She talked with the workers, then -nodded her head and rode on.</p> - -<p>“Aye,” said Canteleu beside her. “This is such a -tempered town as Julius Cæsar or King Alexander -might have been blithe to have about them!”</p> - -<p>The princess studied him, walking by the bridle -of her white Arabian. “What would you do, Thibaut -Canteleu, if I gave you Montmaure for lord?”</p> - -<p>Thibaut looked at Roche-de-Frêne spread around -them, and then looked at the sky, and then met, -frank and full, the princess’s eyes with his own black -ones.</p> - -<p>“What could we do, my Lady Audiart? Begin -again, perchance, where we began in your great-grandfather’s -time. Give us warning ere it happen! -So all who love freedom may hang themselves, saving -Count Jaufre the trouble!”</p> - -<p>“It will not happen,” said Audiart. She, too, -looked at Roche-de-Frêne, and looked at the sky. -When she had made the round of the walls, she rode -through the street where the armourers and weapon-makers -worked at their trade more busily than in -the days of peace, and to the quarter where the -fletchers worked, and to the storehouses where was -being heaped the incoming grain and other victual. -Everywhere reigned activity. Roche-de-Frêne contained<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_210" id="Page_210">[210]</a></span> -not alone its own citizens, together with the -castle retainers, the poor knights, the squires, the -people of vague feudal standing and their followers -whom ordinarily it lodged, but in at the gates now, -day by day, rode or walked fighting men. There -mustered to the town and the crowning great pile of -the castle lords and knights, esquires and mounted -men and footmen. Men who owed service came, -and in lesser numbers free lances came. And all -the great vassals that entered had kneeled in the -castle hall, before the Princess Audiart, and putting -their hands between hers, had taken her for their -liege lady. Where had reigned Gaucelm reigned -Audiart.</p> - -<p>Each day, before she recrossed the castle moat -and went in at the great gate between Red Tower -and Lion Tower, she would go for a little time to the -cathedral. She rode there now, knights about her. -The white Arabian stopped where he was wont to -stop. Dismounting, she passed the tremendous, -sculptured portal and entered the place.</p> - -<p>Within abode a solemn and echoing dimness -pointed with light. There were a score of shadowy, -kneeling folk, and the lights of the shrines burned. -The pillars stood like reeds in a giant elder world. -Thin ladders of gold light came down between them. -Obeying the princess’s gesture, the two or three with -her stayed their steps. She went alone to the chapel -of Our Lady of Roche-de-Frêne. Here, between the -Saracen pillars, before the tall, jewelled Queen of<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_211" id="Page_211">[211]</a></span> -Heaven, before the lamps fed with perfumed oil, lay -a great slab of black stone. The Princess Audiart -knelt beside it, bowed herself until her forehead felt -the coldness....</p> - -<p>She bent no long while over Gaucelm the Fortunate, -lying still in the crypt below. Sorrow must -serve, not rule, in Roche-de-Frêne! Before she rose -from her knees and went, she lifted her eyes to the -image in blue samite, with the pierced heart and the -starry crown. But her own heart and mind spoke to -something somewhat larger, more nearly the whole.... -She quitted the cathedral, and mounting her -Arabian, turned with her following toward the castle -heaped against the sapphire sky.</p> - -<p>Riding that way, she rode by the bishop’s palace, -and in the flagged place, beside the dolphin fountain, -she met Bishop Ugo. He checked his mule by -the spraying water, those with him attending at a -little distance.</p> - -<p>“Well met, my Lord Bishop!” said Audiart. “I -have wished to take counsel with you as to these -stones. Here are five hundred fit for casting upon -Montmaure.”</p> - -<p>Ugo regarded the fair space between fountain and -palace. “Then have them taken up, princess, and -borne to the walls.” He left the subject. “Has there -come any messenger from the host to-day?”</p> - -<p>“No. None.”</p> - -<p>“If there is battle,” said Ugo, “I pray the Blessed -Mother of God that the right may win!”</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_212" id="Page_212">[212]</a></span></p> - -<p>He spoke with attempted unction. What was -gained was more acid than balm.</p> - -<p>The princess had a strange, hovering smile. “How -may a man be assured in this world,” she asked, -“which of two shields is the right knight’s?”</p> - -<p>Ugo darted a look. “How may a man?—May a -woman, then?”</p> - -<p>“As much, and as little, as a man,” answered the -Princess Audiart. “My Lord Bishop, if Count -Jaufre strikes down Roche-de-Frêne, will you wed -him and me?”</p> - -<p>Ugo kept a mask-like face. “I am a man of -peace, my Lady Audiart! It becomes such an one -to wish that foes were friends, and hands were -joined.”</p> - -<p>With this to think of, the princess rode through -the chief street of Roche-de-Frêne, the castle looming -nearer and more huge with each pace of the -Arabian. Here was the deep moat and the bridge -sounding hollowly; here the barbican, Lion Tower -and Red Tower. She rode beneath the portcullis, -through the resounding, vaulted passage, and in the -court the noblest knight helped her from her horse. -She was dressed in a dull green stuff, fine and thin, -with a blue mantle for need, and about her dark -hair a veil twisted turban-wise. Her ladies came to -meet her, silken pages and chamberlains stepped -backward before her. She asked for Madame -Alazais, and learning that she was in the garden, -went that way.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_213" id="Page_213">[213]</a></span></p> - -<p>Cushions had been piled upon a bank of turf in the -shadow of a fruit tree. Here reclined Alazais, beautiful -as Eve or Helen, her ladies about her and Gilles -de Valence singing a new-old song. Alazais’s face -was pensive, down-bent, her cheek against her hand—but -here in the shade the day was desirable, with -air enough to lift away the heat—and Gilles’s singing -pleased her—and the world and life must be -supported! In her fashion she had felt fondness for -the dead prince,—felt it now and still,—but yonder -was death and here was life.... As for war in -the land and impending fearful siege, Alazais held -that matters might yet be compounded. Until this -garden wall were battered in, her imagination would -not serve to show her this great castle death-wounded. -At the worst, thought Alazais, Audiart -might wed Count Jaufre. Men were not so hugely -different....</p> - -<p>The reigning princess came and sat beside her -step-dame. “It is singing and beauty just to be here -for a moment under this tree!” She shut her eyes. -“To cease from striving and going on! To rest the -whole at one point of achieved sweetness, even if it -were not very high sweetness—just there—for -aye! It would tempt a god....”</p> - -<p>The next day she rode westward from the town. -Again the day was dry, with an intense and arrowy -light. She rode with a small train some distance into -the tawny land, to a strong castle that, strongly -held, might give Montmaure a check. She rode<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_214" id="Page_214">[214]</a></span> -here to give wise praise, to speak to those who garrisoned -it words of the most courageous expectation. -She ate with her train in hall, rested in the cool of -the thick-walled room for the hour of extremest -heat, spoke again with feeling, wit, and fire to the -knights and men-at-arms who must desperately hold -the place; then, with her following, said farewell and -good-speed. She turned back toward Roche-de-Frêne, -through the burned, high summer country.</p> - -<p>The sun was in the western heaven. Tall cypresses -by the road cast shadows of immense length. There -lay ahead a grove of pine and oak, a certain famous -cold and bubbling spring, and a meeting with a -lesser, winding road. “I am thirsty,” said the princess. -“Let us draw rein at Saint Martha’s Well.”</p> - -<p>Entering the grove, they found another there before -them, athirst and drinking of the well. A knight -in a blue surcoat knelt upon the grass beside the -water and drank. His shield rested against a tree, -he had taken off his helmet and placed it on the -grass beside him, a squire held his horse. As the -princess and her train came to the well-side he rose, -stepped back with a gesture of courtesy. He had in -his hand a cup of horn set in silver.</p> - -<p>Several of those with the princess dismounted—one -spoke to the stranger knight. “Fair sir, we have -no cup! If you will be frank with yours—”</p> - -<p>Garin stooped again to the water, rinsed and -filled the cup, and carried it to the side of the white -Arabian. The princess took it, thanked him, and<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_215" id="Page_215">[215]</a></span> -drank. Her eyes noted, over the rim of the cup, the -cross, proclaiming that he had fought in Palestine. -Below it, on the breast of his blue surcoat, was embroidered -a bird with outstretched wings. She -drank, returned the cup and thanked the knight. -He was deeply bronzed, taller, wider of shoulder, -changed here and changed there from Garin the -Squire. In his face sat powers of thought and will -that had hardly dwelled there so plainly years ago. -She was not aware that she had seen him before. -She saw only a goodly knight, and possessing, as -she did, wide knowledge of the chivalry within her -princedom, wondered whence he had come. She had -viewed famed knights from many a land, but she -could not recall this traveller with his embroidered -bird.</p> - -<p>She spoke to him with her forthright graciousness. -“Fair sir, are you for Roche-de-Frêne?”</p> - -<p>“Aye,” said Garin. “I come from the host, bearer -of a letter to the princess from my lord Stephen the -Marshal. If, lady, you are she—”</p> - -<p>“I am Audiart,” said the princess, and held out -her hand for the letter.</p> - -<p>Garin bent his knee, took from his breast the letter -wrapped in silk, and gave it. The princess drew -off her glove, broke the seal and read, sitting the -white Arabian by the murmuring spring. Those with -her waited without movement that might disturb. -Trees of the grove whispered in the evening air, -splashed gold from the sun lay here and there like<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_216" id="Page_216">[216]</a></span> -fairy wealth. The marshal wrote of ambushments, -attacks, repulses, conflicts where Roche-de-Frêne -had been victorious. But the two counts were together -now, and the odds were great. New men had -come to them from Aquitaine. The host was great -of spirit, and he, Stephen the Marshal, would do -his best. But let none be dismayed if there came -some falling back toward the town. So the frank -marshal, a good general and truth-teller.</p> - -<p>The princess read, sat for a moment with her -eyes upon the light falling through the trees, then -spoke, giving to her knights the substance of the -letter. “So it runs, sirs! So the wheel turns and -turns, and no mind can tell—But the mind may be -courageous, though it knows not the body’s fortunes.”</p> - -<p>She folded the marshal’s letter, put it within her -silken purse, and drew on her glove. She spoke to -Garin. “How do they call you, sir? Are you man -of ours?”</p> - -<p>“I am your man, lady. I am Garin, younger -brother of Foulque of Castel-Noir, and I am likewise -called Garin of the Golden Island.”</p> - -<p>“Ride beside us to the town,” said the princess, -“and give tidings of the host.”</p> - -<p>Garin mounted Noureddin. Rainier bore his -helmet and shield. The company left the grove for -the open road. The road and all the earth lay in the -gold of evening, and in the distance, lifted against -the clear sapphire of the east, was Roche-de-Frêne.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_217" id="Page_217">[217]</a></span> -Garin rode beside the princess and gave the news of -the host. She questioned with keen intelligence, and -he answered, it seemed, to her liking.</p> - -<p>When she had gained what she wished, she rode -for a time in silence, then, “I knew not that Foulque -of Castel-Noir had a brother.”</p> - -<p>“Years ago,” said Garin, “I took the cross and -went to Palestine. This summer I came home and -found the land afire. With two score men I left -Castel-Noir, and with them joined the marshal and -the host.”</p> - -<p>“He speaks of you in his letter and gives you high -praise. It is Lord Stephen’s way to praise justly.”</p> - -<p>“I would do my devoir,” said Garin.</p> - -<p>Roche-de-Frêne lay before them. Castle and town -and all the country roundabout were bathed by a -light golden and intense. “<i>Garin de l’Isle d’Or</i>,” said -the princess. “There is a troubadour named so—and -he sang, too, in the land beyond the sea. Are -you he?”</p> - -<p>“Yes.”</p> - -<p>“You sing of one whom you name the <i>Fair Goal</i>?”</p> - -<p>“Aye, princess,” said Garin. “She is my lady.”</p> - -<p>“Lives she in this land?”</p> - -<p>“I know not. I have been in her presence but -once—and that was long ago. I think that she -lives afar.”</p> - -<p>“Ah,” thought the princess, “behold your poet-lover, -straining and longing toward he knows not -what nor whom—save that it is afar!” Aloud she<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_218" id="Page_218">[218]</a></span> -said, “If we are besieged in Roche-de-Frêne brave -songs, as well as brave deeds, will have room.”</p> - -<p>Turning to the south and then to the east they -rode by the river and so came to the fosse, ramparts, -and towers, guardians of the bridge-head, and then -upon the bridge itself. Right and left they saw the -gilded water, in front the hill of Roche-de-Frêne, -with, for diadem, the strong town walled and towered, -and high and higher yet, the mighty castle. -The horses’ hoofs made a deep sound, then they were -away from the bridge and climbing the road to the -river-gate. A horn was winded, clear and silver. Now -they were riding through the streets, filled with folk. -Garin thought of an autumn day, and looked at the -tower of the cathedral, higher now than then.... -The street climbed upward, the castle loomed, vast -as a dream in the violet light.</p> - -<p>“The castle will give you lodging, sir knight,” said -the princess.</p> - -<p>Here was the moat, across it Red Tower and Lion -Tower. Garin looked up at the great blue banner, -and then along the battlements to where waved the -green of the garden trees. Again there flashed into -mind that autumn day, and that he had wondered -if ever he would enter here, a knight, and serve his -suzerain.</p> - -<hr class="chap" /> - -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_219" id="Page_219">[219]</a></span></p> - -<div class="chapter"> - -<h2 class="p4"><a name="c219" id="c219">CHAPTER XVI</a></h2> - -<p class="pch">GARIN AND JAUFRE</p> - -<p class="pn"><span class="smcap">With</span> a great host Montmaure encamped before -Roche-de-Frêne and overran the champaign half -way around. Of the remainder, one fourth was, so -to speak, debatable ground,—now the field of the -blue banner and now that of the green and silver. -The final fourth was stubbornly held by Stephen -the Marshal and the host. This gave to the east and -included the curve of the river, the bridge and its -towers, and the road by which still travelled, from -unharried lands, food for the beleaguered town.</p> - -<p>Montmaure’s tents covered the plain. Off into the -deep summer woods fringed the myriad of camp-followers, -sutlers, women, thieves, outlawed persons. -But the fighting mass showed from the besieged -town like a magic and menacing carpet spread half -around it, creeping and growing to complete the -ring. What was for the time a great army besieged -Roche-de-Frêne.</p> - -<p>The barons, vassals or allies of Montmaure, had -each his quarter where he planted his standard, and -whence he led in assault the men who called him -lord. The Free Companies pitched among vineyards -or where had been vineyards. The spears from -Aquitaine and a huge number of bowmen covered<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_220" id="Page_220">[220]</a></span> -thickly old wheat-fields, pastures, and orchards. -Near as might safely be to the walls of Roche-de-Frêne,—so -near that the din of the town might be -heard, that the alarum bell, when it rang, rocked -loud in their ears,—were raised, in the fore-front -of tents as numerous as autumn sheaves, the pavilions -of Count Savaric and of his son, Count Jaufre. -It was August weather, hot and thunderous.</p> - -<p>Jaufre de Montmaure came to the door of his -pavilion and looked at the hill, the town and castle -of Roche-de-Frêne. Behind the three were storm -clouds, over them storm light. The banner of the -Princess Audiart flew high. Against the grey, -heaped vapour it showed like an opening into blue -sky.</p> - -<p>Each day and every day assaults were made. One -was now in progress, directed against the bridge-head, -very visible from Jaufre’s tent. Aimeric the -Bastard led it, and Aimeric was a fierce warrior, followed -by men whose only trade was fighting. The -atmosphere was still, hushed, grey, and sultry, dulling -the noise that was made. The mass of the force -was not concerned.</p> - -<p>Jaufre stood, tall and red-gold, hawk-nosed, and -with a scar across his cheek. He was without armour -and lightly clothed, to meet the still heat. Upon the -ground without the tent had been spread skins of -wild beasts. He spoke over his shoulder, then, moving -to these skins, threw himself down upon them. -Unconquered town and castle, the present attack<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_221" id="Page_221">[221]</a></span> -upon the bridge, the slow coming of the storm, the -blue, undaunted banner could best be noted just -from here. A squire brought a flagon of wine from -the tent and set it beside him.</p> - -<p>Out of a pavilion fifty yards away came Count -Savaric, and crossed the space to his son. With an -inner tardiness Jaufre rose from the skins and stood. -“I have sent word to Gaultier Cap-du-Loup to take -his Company to Aimeric’s help,” said Count Savaric. -He took a seat that they brought him.</p> - -<p>Count Jaufre lay down again upon the skins. -There held the grey breathlessness and light of the -slow-travelling storm.</p> - -<p>Count Savaric watched the dust-cloud that hid -the bridge-head, obscuring the strong tower and the -supporting works that Roche-de-Frêne had built -and, with the aid of its encamped host, yet held -against all assault.</p> - -<p>But Jaufre regarded moodily the walled town and -the castle. He spoke. “This tent has stood here a -month to-day, and we have buried many knights.”</p> - -<p>“Just,” answered Count Savaric. “Barons and -knights and a host of the common people. A great -jewel is a costly thing!”</p> - -<p>“I miss my comrade, Hugues le Gai. And Richard -will not lightly take the loss of Guy of Perpignan.”</p> - -<p>“Duke Richard knows how jewels cost.”</p> - -<p>Jaufre waved a sinewy hand toward Roche-de-Frêne. -The half-light and the storm in the air edged<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_222" id="Page_222">[222]</a></span> -his mood. “Well, they will pay!” he said. He lay -silent for a minute, then spoke again, but more to -himself than to Count Savaric. “Until lately I took -that woman yonder—” he jerked a thumb toward -the high, distant, blue banner,—”for the mere earth -I must take in hand to get the diamond of Roche-de-Frêne! -So I had the diamond, the bride that -came with it was no great matter. She had no beauty, -they said. But, Eye of God! there were other women -on earth! They are plentiful. Take this one that -went with the diamond, get sons upon her, and let -her be silent.... Now, I care less for the diamond, -I think, than to humble the Princess Audiart!”</p> - -<p>Count Savaric, leaning forward, regarded the -bridge-end. “Gaultier Cap-du-Loup is there.... Ha, -they send men to meet him! That may develop—”</p> - -<p>The castle loomed against the grey curtain of -cloud. The minutiæ of the place appeared to enlarge, -intensify. Each detail grew individual, stubborn, -a fortress in itself. The whole mocked like the -heaped clouds. “Ha, my Lady Audiart!” said Jaufre, -“who will not have me for lord—who takes a -sword in her hand and fights me—”</p> - -<p>He sat up upon the skins, poured himself a cup -of wine, and drank.</p> - -<p>His father, looking still at the bridge-tower, rose -with suddenness to his feet. “The lord of Chalus -and his men are going in! There must be yonder -half Stephen the Marshal’s force! The plain stirs. -Ha! best arm—”</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_223" id="Page_223">[223]</a></span></p> - -<p>Jaufre rose now also. There was a gleam in his -eye. “Breath of God!” he said. “I feel to-day -like battle!”</p> - -<p>His squires armed him. While they worked the -trumpets blew, rousing every segment of the camp. -Trumpets answered from beyond the bridge. In the -town the alarum bell began its deep ringing. The -day turned sound and motion. Count Savaric left -his tent, mounted a charger that was brought, and -spurred to the head of a press of knights. The colours -of the plain shifted to the eye; dust hung above -the head of the bridge and all the earth thereabouts; -out of it came a heavy sound with shouting. The -area affected increased; it was evident that there -might ensue a considerable, perhaps a general, -battle. It was as though a small stir in the air had -unexpectedly spread to whirlwind dimensions. And -all the time the sky hung moveless, with an iron -tint.</p> - -<p>They armed Jaufre in chain-mail, put over this a -green surcoat worked with black, attached his spurs, -laced his helmet, gave him knightly belt and two-edged -sword, held the stirrup while he mounted the -war horse, gave him shield and spear. He looked a -red-gold giant, and he was a bold fighter, and many -a man followed him willingly. He shook his spear at -the castle, and at the banner waving above the huge -donjon. “Ha, Audiart the Wise! Watch now your -lord do battle!”</p> - -<p>Around the bridge-head, where Stephen the Marshal<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_224" id="Page_224">[224]</a></span> -had his host, the battle sprang into being with -an unexpectedness. There had been meant but a -heavier than ordinary support to the endangered -barriers, a stronger outward push against Aimeric -the Bastard and Gaultier Cap-du-Loup. But the -tension of the atmosphere, the menace and urge, the -storm-light affected alike Roche-de-Frêne and Montmaure. -Each side threw forward more men and -more. From the bridge-head the shock and clamour -ate into the plain. The mêlée deepened and spread. -Suddenly, with a trampling and shouting, a lifting of -dust to the skies, the whole garment was rent. There -arrived, though none had looked for it on this day, -general battle.... The leaders appeared, barons -and famed knights. Here was the marshal, valiant -and cool, bestriding a great steed, cheering on his -people, wielding himself a strong sword. The battle -was over open earth, and among the tents and quarters -of the soldiery, and against and from the cover -of the works that guarded the bridge. Now it -shrieked and thundered in the space between the -opposing camps, now among the tents of Roche-de-Frêne -and now among those of Montmaure. Banners -dipped and fell and rose again, were advanced -or withdrawn. There were a huge number of banners, -bright-hued, parti-coloured. They showed -amid the dust like giant flowers torn from a giant -garden and tossed in air. It became a fell struggle, -where riderless war horses galloped hither and yon, -and the footmen fought hard with pike and sword,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_225" id="Page_225">[225]</a></span> -and the crossbowmen sent their bolts, and the -archers sent whistling flights of arrows. And still -the clouds hung grey, and the town and castle drawn -against them watched breathlessly.</p> - -<p>Aimar de Panemonde had joined his brother-in-arms. -A brave and beautiful knight, he rode in the -onset beside Garin of the Golden Island. The two -lowered lances and came against two knights of -Montmaure. The knights were good knights, but -the men from Palestine defeated and unhorsed them. -One was hurt to death, the other his people rescued. -Garin and Aimar, sweeping forward, met, by a bit of -wall, mounted men of a Free Company.... The -din had grown as frightful as if the world was crashing -down. Always Montmaure might remember -that Montmaure had in field twice as many as -Roche-de-Frêne. Garin and Aimar thrust through -the press by the wall, rode with other knights where -the fight was fiercest. Garin wished to encounter -Jaufre de Montmaure; he searched for the green and -silver banner. But there was a wild toss of colours, -shifting and indeterminate. Moreover the day, dark -before, darkened yet further; it was not possible to -see clearly to any distance.</p> - -<p>And then, suddenly, a knight was before him, on -a great bay horse caparisoned with green picked out -with black, the knight himself in a green surcoat. -The helmet masked the face, all save the eyes. Each -combatant shook a spear and drove against the -other, but a wave of battle surging by made the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_226" id="Page_226">[226]</a></span> -course not true. The green knight’s spear struck the -edge of Garin’s shield. But the latter’s lance, encountering -the other’s casque, burst the fastening, -unhelmed him. Red-gold hair showed, hawk nose, -scar across the cheek.</p> - -<p>“Ha!” cried Garin. “I know you! Do you, perchance, -know me?”</p> - -<p>But the battle drove them apart. Here in the -press was no longer a knight in green. Garin, looking -around, saw only dim struggling forms, knights -and footmen. Aimar had been with him, but the -waves had borne Aimar, too, to a distance. He lost -Rainier also, and his men. Here was the grey, resounding -plain beneath the livid sky, and the battle, -that, as a whole, went against Roche-de-Frêne. His -horse sank under him, cut down by Cap-du-Loup’s -men. Garin drew his sword, fought afoot. He saw -a tossed banner, heard a long trumpet-call, hewed -his way where the press was thickest. A riderless -horse coming by him, trampling the dead and the -hurt that lay thickly, he caught it by the bridle and -brought it in time to Stephen the Marshal full in the -midst of that seething war. “Gramercy!” cried -Stephen, and swung himself into saddle. Roche-de-Frêne -rallied, swept toward Montmaure’s coloured -tents. Overhead the thunder was rolling.</p> - -<p>Garin, his back to a heap of stones, fought as he -had fought in the land over the sea. A bay horse -came his way again. Jaufre de Montmaure, unhelmed, -towered above him, sword in hand. Garin’s<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_227" id="Page_227">[227]</a></span> -casque was without visor; his features showed, and -in the pallid light his blue surcoat with the bird upon -the breast. “Will you leave your horse?” quoth -Garin. “It were better chivalry so.”</p> - -<p>“I meet you the second time to-day. Moreover -we encountered a fortnight ago, in the fight by the -river. Beside that,” said Jaufre, “there is something -that comes back to me—but I cannot seize it! Before -I slay you, tell me your name.”</p> - -<p>“Garin of the Golden Island.”</p> - -<p>Jaufre made a pause. “You are the troubadour?”</p> - -<p>“Just.”</p> - -<p>“So that Richard knows not that I cut you down!” -said Jaufre, and struck with his sword.</p> - -<p>But not for nothing had Garin trained in the -East. The blade that should have bitten deep met -an upward glancing blade. The stroke was turned -aside. Jaufre made a second and fiercer essay—the -sword left his hand, came leaping and clattering -upon the heap of stones. “Eye of God!” swore -Jaufre and hurled himself from his war horse.</p> - -<p>“Take your sword!” said Garin. “And yet once, -where I was concerned, you lied, making oath that -I struck you from behind and unawares—”</p> - -<p>“Who are you with your paynim play? Who are -you that I seem to know?”</p> - -<p>“I was not knight, but squire—when I tied your -hands with your horse’s reins!”</p> - -<p>A deeper red came to Montmaure’s face, the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_228" id="Page_228">[228]</a></span> -veins stood out upon his brow, his frame trembled. -“Now I remember—! Flame of Hell! You are that -insolent whom I sought—”</p> - -<p>“I flew from your grasp, and I wintered well in -Palestine.—And still you injure women!”</p> - -<p>Jaufre lunged with the recovered sword. “I will -kill you now—”</p> - -<p>“That is as may be,” said Garin, and began again -the paynim play.</p> - -<p>But he was not destined to have to-day Jaufre’s -death upon him, nor to spill his own life. With -shouting and din, through the blackening air, Count -Savaric swept this way, a thousand with him. The -mêlée became wild, confused and dream-like. Jaufre -sprang backward from the sword, like a serpent’s -darting tongue, of Garin of the Golden Island. The -Lord of Chalus pushed a black steed between and -with a mace struck Garin down. He sank beside the -heap of stones, and for a time lost knowledge of the -clanging fight. It went this way and it went that. -But the host of Roche-de-Frêne had great odds -against it, and faster and faster it lost....</p> - -<p>Garin came back to consciousness. Storm-light -and failing day, sound as of world ruin, odour of -blood, oppression of many bodies in narrow space, -faintness of heat—Garin looked upward and saw -through a cleft in the battle Roche-de-Frêne upon -its hill-top, and the castle grey against the grey -heaven, a looming grey dream. He sank again into -the sea and night, but when he lifted again, lifted<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_229" id="Page_229">[229]</a></span> -clear. He opened his eyes and found Aimar beside -him, and Rainier.</p> - -<p>Aimar bent to him. “What, Garin, Garin! All -saints be praised! I thought you dead—”</p> - -<p>“I live,” said Garin. “But the day is going -against us.”</p> - -<p>He spoke dreamily, and rose to his feet. Before -and above him he still saw the grey castle. It lightened, -and in a wide picture showed the broken host -and the faces of fleeing men. One came by with outspread -arms. “Lord Stephen is down—sore hurt -or dead! Lord Stephen is down—”</p> - -<p>Thunder crashed. Beneath its long reverberations -sounded a wailing of trumpets. This died, and -there arose a savage shouting, noise of Montmaure’s -triumph. It lightened and thundered again. Other -and many trumpets sounded, not at hand but somewhat -distantly, not mournfully, but with voices -high and resolved and jubilant. Garin thought that -they came from the castle, then that they were blowing -in the streets of the town, then that they sounded -without the walls, from the downward slope of the -great road. Rose came into the grey of the world, -salt into its flatness.</p> - -<p>“Blessed Mother of God!” cried Aimar. “See -yonder, rescue streaming from the gates—”</p> - -<p>Forth from Roche-de-Frêne poured the castle -garrison, poured the burghers. They came, each -man armed as he would run, at the alarum bell, to -the walls. Knight and sergeant rode; the many<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_230" id="Page_230">[230]</a></span> -hasted afoot. All the old warriors and the young -warriors, whose post of duty had been within the -place, sprang forth, and followed them the host of -the townsmen, at their head Thibaut Canteleu. But -at the head of all, chivalry, foot-soldiers and townsmen, -rode the Princess of Roche-de-Frêne. Down -came the torrent, in the light of the storm, down the -hill of Roche-de-Frêne, over the bridge, then widened -itself and came impetuous, with a kind of singing -will, freshness, and power upon the plain, to the -battle that the one side had thought won and the -other lost.</p> - -<p>All lethargy passed from Garin’s senses. He beheld -the rallying of the host, beheld Stephen the -Marshal, sore wounded but not to death, lifted and -borne to the great tower, beheld the princess, wearing -mail like a man, a helmet upon her head, in her -hand a sword. She rode a grey destrier, and where -her banner came, came courage, hope, and victory. -The battle turned. Montmaure was thrust back -upon his tents. When the tempest broke, with a -great rain and whistling wind, with lightning that -blinded and pealing thunder, when the twilight -came down and the battle rested, it was Montmaure -that had lost the day.</p> - -<hr class="chap" /> - -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_231" id="Page_231">[231]</a></span></p> - -<div class="chapter"> - -<h2 class="p4"><a name="c231" id="c231">CHAPTER XVII</a></h2> - -<p class="pch">OUR LADY OF ROCHE-DE-FRÊNE</p> - -<p class="pn"><span class="smcap">Stephen</span> the Marshal lay in a fair chamber in the -castle of Roche-de-Frêne, very grievously hurt and -fevered with his hurt. A physician attended him, -and his squires watched, and an old skilled woman, -old nurse of the Princess Audiart, sat beside his bed. -Sometimes Alazais, with the Lady Guida, came -to the room, stood and murmured pitiful words. -Through the windows, deep set in the thick wall, entered, -through the long day, other sound, not pitiful. -At times it came as well in the long night. Montmaure -might assault three, four times during the -day and, for that he would wear out the defenders, -strike again at midnight or ere the cock crew.</p> - -<p>Montmaure had so many fighting men that half -might rest through the day or sleep at night while -their fellows wore down Roche-de-Frêne. Count -Jaufre had ridden westward and northward,—after -the day of the wounding of Stephen,—and -coming to Autafort where was Duke Richard, had -procured, after a night of talk and song, dawn mass, -and a headlong, sunrise gallop between the hills, the -gift of other thousands of men wherewith to pay -the cost of the jewel. Normans, Angevins, men of -Poitou and Gascony, Englishmen, soldiers of fortune,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_232" id="Page_232">[232]</a></span> -and Free Companions—they followed Jaufre -de Montmaure to Roche-de-Frêne and swelled the -siege. They were promised great booty, plenary -license when the town was sacked, a full meal for the -lusts of the flesh.</p> - -<p>The host defending Roche-de-Frêne grew smaller, -the host grew small and worn. Vigilance that must -never cease to be vigilant, attack by day and by -night, many slain and many hurt, death and wounding -and, at last, disease—and yet the host held the -bridge-head and the bridge, made no idle threat -against Montmaure, but struck quick and deep. It -did what was possible to the heroic that yet was -human.... There came a day when the entire force -of Montmaure thrown, shock upon shock, against -the barriers, burst a way in. The strong towers, -guardians of the bridge, could no longer stand. The -Princess of Roche-de-Frêne must draw a shattered -host across the river, up the hill of Roche-de-Frêne, -and in at the gates to the shelter of the strong-walled -town.</p> - -<p>It was done; foot by foot the bridge was surrendered, -foot by foot the host brought off. From hillside -and wall the archers and the crossbowmen sent their -bolts singing through the air, keeping back Montmaure.... -Company by company, division by division, -the gates were passed; when the host was -within, they closed with a heavy sound. Gate and -gate-towers and curtains of walls high and thick—the -armed town, the huge, surmounting castle, looked<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_233" id="Page_233">[233]</a></span> -four-square defiance to the Counts of Montmaure. -Now set in the second stage of this siege.</p> - -<p>Montmaure held the roads to and from Roche-de-Frêne. -Montmaure lay as close as he might lie and -escape crossbow bolts and stones flung by those engines -caused to be constructed by men of skill in the -princess’s pay. From the walls, look which way you -might, you saw the coils of Montmaure. He lay -glittering, a puissant dragon, impatient to draw his -folds nearer, impatient to tighten them around town -and castle, strangle, and crush! To hasten that -final hour he made daily assay with tooth and claw. -Sound of fierce assault and fierce repulse filled great -part of time. The periods between of repose, of exhaustion, -of waiting had—though men and women -went about and spoke and even laughed—the feeling -of the silence of the desert, a blank stillness.</p> - -<p>The spirit of the town was good—it were faint -praise, calling it that! Gaucelm the Fortunate, -Audiart the Wise, and their motto and practice, -I BUILD, had lifted this princedom and this town, -or had given room for proper strength to lift from -within. Now Thibaut Canteleu supported the princess -in all ways, and the town followed Thibaut. -Audiart the Wise and Roche-de-Frêne fought with -a single will. And Bishop Ugo made attestation that -he wished wholly the welfare of all. He preached in -the cathedral; he passed through the town with a -train of churchmen and blessed the citizens as they -hurried to the walls; he mounted to the castle and<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_234" id="Page_234">[234]</a></span> -gave his counsel there. The princess listened, then -went her way.</p> - -<p>Lords, knights, and squires, the chivalry of Roche-de-Frêne, -was hers. They liked a woman to be lion-hearted, -and they forgot the old name that had been -given her. Perhaps it was no longer applicable, perhaps -it had never, in any high degree, been applicable. -Perhaps there had been some question of fashion, -and a beauty not answered to by the eyes of -many beholders, a thing of spirit, mind, and rarity. -Her vassals, great and less great, gave her devout -service; they trusted her, warp and woof. She had -a genius and a fire that she breathed into them and -that aided to heroic deeds.</p> - -<p>Garin of the Golden Island did high things in the -siege of Roche-de-Frêne. Where almost all were -brave, where each day deeds resounded, he grew to -have a name here for exquisiteness of daring as he -had had it in the land beyond the sea.... He found -himself, in one of those periods of stillness between -assaults, alone by the watch-tower above the castle -garden. He had left Aimar at the barbican, Rainier -he had sent upon some errand. It was nearing sunset, -and the trees in the garden had an autumn tint. -The year wheeled downward.</p> - -<p>Garin, mounting the watch-tower, found upon the -summit a mantled figure, leaning against the battlement -overlooking the wide prospect. A moment, -and he saw that it was the princess and would have -withdrawn. But Audiart called him back. In the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_235" id="Page_235">[235]</a></span> -garden below waited a page and an attendant of -whom the princess was fond—the dark-eyed girl -who told stories well. But for the rest there held a -solitude. She had come from the White Tower to -taste this quiet and to look afar, to bathe her senses -in this stillness after clamour, and to feel overhead -the enemyless expanse.</p> - -<p>“You are welcome, Sir Garin of the Golden Island!” -she said, and turned toward him. “I watched -you lead the sally yesterday. No brave poet ever -made men more one with him than you did then—”</p> - -<p>Garin came to her side, bent and kissed her mantle -edge where her arm brought it against the battlement. -“Princess of Roche-de-Frêne!” he said, “watching -you, in this war, all men turn brave and poets.”</p> - -<p>He had spoken as he felt. But, “No!” said the -Princess Audiart. “No man turns what he is not.” -She looked again at the wide prospect. “My heart -aches,” she said, “because of all the misery! At -times I would that I knew—”</p> - -<p>She rested her brow upon her hands. The sun -touched the mountains, jagged and sharp, shaped -long ago by central fires. The castle and town of -Roche-de-Frêne were bathed in a golden light. The -princess uncovered her eyes. “Well! we travel as -we may, or as the inner will doth will.—How long -do you think that this castle will go untaken by -Montmaure?”</p> - -<p>“I think that it will go forever untaken by Montmaure.”</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_236" id="Page_236">[236]</a></span></p> - -<p>“He is strong—he has old strength.... But I -came to the garden and the watch-tower not to think -of that and of how the battle goes.... Look at the -violet stealing up from the plain.”</p> - -<p>“In the morning comes the sun once more! I believe -in light.”</p> - -<p>“Yea! so do I.” She looked from the cloud-shapes -of the western sky to the clear fields of the east and -the deeps overhead. Her gaze stayed there a moment, -then dropped, a slow sailing bird, to the garden -trees below the tower, the late flowers, and the sunburned -turf. “The autumn air.... I like that—have -always liked it.... In the hurly-burly of this -siege, you think yet of the Fair Goal?”</p> - -<p>“Yes, lady.”</p> - -<p>“Listen to the convent-bells! That is the Convent -of Saint Blandina.... Pierol, down there, has -a lute. I am tired. I would rest for an hour and forget -blood and crying voices. I would think of fairer -things. I would forget Montmaure. Let us go down -under the trees, and I will listen to your singing of -your Fair Goal.”</p> - -<p>They descended the tower-stair and came into the -garden. Here was a tall cypress and a seat beneath -it for the princess, and a lower one for the singer. -Pierol gave the lute, then with the dark-eyed girl -drew back into the shade of myrtles. Garin touched -the strings, but when he sang it was of love itself.</p> - -<p>The Princess Audiart listened, wrapped in her -mantle. When the song was ended, “That is of love<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_237" id="Page_237">[237]</a></span> -itself, and beautiful it was!—Now sing of your own -love.”</p> - -<p>Garin obeyed. When it was done, “That is loveliness!” -said the Princess. “This very moment that -fair lady has you, doubtless, in her thought.”</p> - -<p>“She whom I sing, lady, and call the Fair Goal, -has never seen me. She knows not that such a man -lives.”</p> - -<p>“What!” exclaimed the princess and turned upon -him. “You have seen her once, and she has not seen -you at all! You know not her true name nor her -home, and she knows not that you are in life! Now, -by my faith—”</p> - -<p>She broke off, sitting staring at him with a -strangely vivid face. “I have heard troubadours -sing of such loves,” she said slowly, “but I have not -believed them. Such loves seemed neither real, nor -greatly desirable to be made real. It was to me like -other pretences.... But you, Sir Garin of the -Golden Island, I hold to be honest—”</p> - -<p>Garin laid the lute upon the earth beside him. He -looked at the trees of the garden, and he seemed to -see again a nightingale that flew from shade to shade -and sang with a sweetness that ravished. “If I know -my own heart,” he said, “it loves with reality!” And -as he spoke came the first confusion, strangeness, -and doubt, the first sense of something new, or -added. It was faint—so underneath that only the -palest dawn-light of it came over the horizon of the -mind—so far and speechless that Garin knew not<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_238" id="Page_238">[238]</a></span> -what it was, only divined that something was there. -Whatever recognition occurred was of something not -unpleasing, something that, were it nearer, might be -known for wealth. Yet there was an admixture of -pain and doubt of himself. He fell silent, faint lines -between his brows.</p> - -<p>The Princess of Roche-de-Frêne likewise sat without -speaking. A colour was in her cheek and her -eyes had strange depths. There was softness in them, -but also force and will. She looked a being with -courage to name her ends to herself and power to -reach them.</p> - -<p>The dusk was coming, the small winged creatures -that harboured in the castle garden were at their -vesper chirping. The page Pierol and the dark-eyed -girl whispered among the myrtles.</p> - -<p>The princess rose. “I am not so tired nor so melancholy -now! I thank you for your singing, Sir -Garin.”</p> - -<p>“I would, my princess,” answered Garin, “that, -like the singers of old, I might build walls where they -are broken! I would that, with armèd hand, I might -bring you victory!”</p> - -<p>“One paladin alone no longer does that,” said -Audiart. “If we win, we all have part—you and -Sir Aimar and Lord Stephen, for whom I grieve, and -all the valiant chivalry and those who fight afoot. -And Thibaut Canteleu and every brave townsman. -And the women who are so brave, ready and constant. -And the children who hush their crying. All<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_239" id="Page_239">[239]</a></span> -have part—all! Account must be taken, too, of my -father’s jester, who, the other day, penned a cartel -to Montmaure. He tied it to an arrow and shot it -from the point of highest danger. And it was a scullion -who threw down the ladder from the northern -wall. All share. The value is in each!”</p> - -<p>“And you, my Lady Audiart, have you no part?”</p> - -<p>“I take account of myself as well. Yes, I, too, -have part.”</p> - -<p>She turned her face toward the myrtles. “Come, -Pierol—Maeut!” then spoke again to Garin of the -Golden Island. “It seems to me sad that the Fair -Goal, whoever she be, wherever she bides, should -know naught of you! Did you perish to-morrow in -Roche-de-Frêne, her tears would not flow. If she -were laughing, her laughter would not break. No -sense of loss where is no sense of possession! This -siege never threats her happiness—so little do you -know of each other!” Her voice had a faint note of -scorn, with something else that could not be read.</p> - -<p>“That is true,” said Garin, and was once more -conscious of that appeal beyond the horizon, under -seas. He felt that there had been some birth, and -that it was a thing not unsweet or passionless. It -seemed other than aught that had come before into -his life. And yet, immediately, he saw again and -loved again the inaccessible, veiled figure, the -traveller from far away,—it had fixed itself in his -mind that she was a traveller from far away,—the -lady who had been the guest of Our Lady in Egypt!<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_240" id="Page_240">[240]</a></span> -He loved, he thought, more strongly, if that might -be, than before. And again came the note of pain -and bewilderment. “It is true, my princess! And -still I think that in some hidden way—hidden to -her and to me—she knows and answers!” He took -the lute from the grass and drew from it a deep and -thrilling strain. “So,” he said, “is the thought of -her among my heart-strings.”</p> - -<p>The princess drew her mantle about her. “Let -us go,” she said. “To-night I hold council. There -is a thing that must be decided, whether to do it or -not to do it.”</p> - -<p>They left the garden, Maeut and Pierol following.</p> - -<p>Garin was not among the barons and the knights -in the great hall when the council was held. He -might have been so, but he chose absence. The -castle was so vast—there were so many buildings -within the ring of its wall—that it lodged a host. -He, with Aimar, their squires and men-at-arms, had -quarters toward the northern face. Here he came, -there being a half moon, and all the giant place in -black and silver. But he did not enter his lodging or -call to Aimar or to Rainier. He went on to where a -wooden stair was built against the wall. Here stood -a sentinel to whom he gave the word, then, passing, -climbed the stair. At the top was space where -twenty might stand, and a catapult be worked. -Here, too, a soldier kept guard. Garin gave him -good-evening, and the man recognized him.</p> - -<p>“Sir Garin of the Black Castle, I was behind you<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_241" id="Page_241">[241]</a></span> -in the sally yesterday! Thumb of Saint Lazarus! -yonder was enough to make dead blood leap!”</p> - -<p>Garin gave him answer, then crossed to the battlements, -and leaning his folded arms upon the -stone, looked forth into the night. This angle of the -castle turned from the crowded town. The wall was -built on sheer rock, and below the rock was the -moat; beyond the moat rose scattered houses, and -then the ultimate strong wall enclosing all, town and -castle alike. And below, on the plain, was Montmaure, -islanding Roche-de-Frêne.</p> - -<p>The autumn air struck cool. Montmaure had -camp-fires flaring here and flaring there, making red-gold -blurs in the night. Garin, watching these, came, -full-force, upon an awareness of fresh misliking for -Montmaure—for Jaufre de Montmaure; misliking -so strong that it came close to hatred. He had misliked -him before, calling him private no less than -public foe. But that feeling had been tame to this.</p> - -<p>The inner atmosphere thickened and darkened. -Could he have forged material lightning, Jaufre -might then have perished. He stood staring at the -red flare upon the horizon. His lips moved. “Jaufre, -Jaufre! would you have the princess?”</p> - -<p>The autumn wind blew against him. Overhead, -the moon came out from clouds and blanched the -platform where he stood and the long line of the wall. -He turned, and looking to the huge castle, saw the -rays silver the White Tower. He knew that this was -where the princess lived. Hate went out of Garin’s<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_242" id="Page_242">[242]</a></span> -heart and out of his eyes. “What is this,” he cried, -but not aloud, “what is this that has come to me?”</p> - -<p>He stayed a long while on the platform, that was -now in light and now in shadow, for the sky had -fleets of clouds. But at last he said good-night to the -pacing sentinel, and, descending the stair, went to -his lodging. Here, before the door, watched one of -his own men. “Has Sir Aimar returned, Jean the -Talkative?”</p> - -<p>“No, lord,” said Jean from Castel-Noir. “He sent -to find you, but no one knew where—It seems that -all the lords and famous knights have been called -into hall. Moreover, there are townsmen in the -great court, and the mayor is inside with the lords. -The bishop came up the hill at supper-time with a -long train. There was a monk here, an hour agone, -who said that there had been a miracle down there -in the cathedral. One Father Eustace, who is very -holy, was kneeling before Our Lady of Roche-de-Frêne, -and he put up his hands to her, like a child to -his mother, and he said ‘Blessed, Divine Lady, when -will Roche-de-Frêne have peace and happiness?’ -Then, lord, what favour was granted to the holy -man! Our Lady’s lips opened smilingly, and words -came out of them in a sweet and gracious voice, to -this effect: ‘When those two wed.’ Holy Eustace fell -in a swoon, so wonderful was the thing, and when he -came to went to my lord the bishop. Whereupon—”</p> - -<p>But, “Talk less, Jean—talk less!” said Sir Garin, -and went by, leaving Jean staring. Within the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_243" id="Page_243">[243]</a></span> -house, stretched upon the floor of the great lower -room, lay his men asleep. They needed sleep; all in -Roche-de-Frêne knew the strain of watching overtime, -of fighting by day and by night. Two only -whispered in a corner, by a guttering candle. These -springing up as Garin entered proved to be Rainier -and the younger squire of Aimar, the elder being -with his master. “Stay till I call you,” said Garin -to Rainier, and passing between the slumbering -forms, ascended the stair to the chamber above. -Here, before a small window was drawn a bench. -He sat down, and looked forth at the moon passing -from cloud to cloud.</p> - -<p>Eight years ago he, like Father Eustace, had -knelt before Our Lady of Roche-de-Frêne and asked -for a sign.... Of his age, inevitably, in a long range -of concerns, Garin had not formerly questioned -miracles. They occurred all the time, sworn to by -Holy Church. But now, and passionately enough, -he doubted that Father Eustace lied.</p> - -<p>Here, sometime later, Aimar found him. “Why -did you not come to the hall? Saint Michael! It -had been worth your while!”</p> - -<p>“I know not why I did not come.... I have been -on the walls—I think that I have been struck by -the moon.... What was done in hall?”</p> - -<p>Aimar stood beside him. “This princess—I have -not seen another like her in the world!”</p> - -<p>“She came from fairyland and the wise saints’ -land and the bravest future land.—What was done?”</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_244" id="Page_244">[244]</a></span></p> - -<p>“Have you heard of the miracle of Our Lady of -Roche-de-Frêne?”</p> - -<p>“I have heard of it. I do not believe it.”</p> - -<p>“Speak low!” said Aimar. “Bishop Ugo related -it with eloquent lips.”</p> - -<p>“Bishop Ugo is Montmaure’s man.”</p> - -<p>“Speak lower yet!... Perchance he thinks that -Montmaure is his man.”</p> - -<p>“Perchance he does. Let them be each other’s. -What was answered?”</p> - -<p>“The princess rose and spoke. She said that there -were so many twos in the world that we must remain -in doubt as to what two the Blessed Image -meant.”</p> - -<p>“Ha!” cried Garin, and laughed out.</p> - -<p>“So,” said Aimar, “did we all—barons, knights, -and no less a soul than Thibaut Canteleu. But the -bishop looked darkly.”</p> - -<p>“No doubt Father Eustace will presently be -vouchsafed an explanation!—Light wed darkness, -and Heaven approve!—Ha! what then, is Heaven?”</p> - -<p>“But then Ugo became smooth and fine, and -wove a sweet garland of words for the wise princess. -And so, for this time, that passed.—Came that -which the council had been called to judge of. -Heralds from Montmaure, appearing this morning -before the river-gate, asking for parley, were blindfolded -and brought to her in hall.”</p> - -<p>Garin turned. “What said Jaufre de Montmaure?”</p> - -<p>“What is wrong with you, Garin of the Golden<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_245" id="Page_245">[245]</a></span> -Island? Heaven forfend your sickening with the -fever!—Montmaure offers a truce from sunrise to -sunrise, offers, moreover, to pitch pavilions two bow -shots from the walls. Then, saith the two of him,—or -rather saith Jaufre with a supporter signed by -Count Savaric,—then let this be done! Let the -Princess of Roche-de-Frêne, followed by fifty -knights, and Count Jaufre de Montmaure, followed -by fifty, meet with courtesy and festival before these -pavilions—the end, the coming face to face, the -touching hands, the speaking together of two who -never yet have had that fortune. So, perchance, a -different music might arise!”</p> - -<p>“How might that be? Her soul does not accord -with his.” Garin left the window, paced the room, -came back to the flooding moonlight. “What said -the princess?”</p> - -<p>“She gave to all in hall the words of the heralds -and asked for counsel. Then this baron spoke and -that knight and also Thibaut Canteleu, and they -spoke like valiant folk, one advising this course and -one that. And Bishop Ugo spoke. Then the princess -stood up, thanked all and gave decision.”</p> - -<p>“She will take her knights, and with courtesy and -festival she will meet and touch hands and speak -with Jaufre, there by his pavilions?”</p> - -<p>“Just,” said Aimar.... “Do you know, Garin, -that when you make poems of the Fair Goal, you -make men see a lady not unlike the princess of this -land?”</p> - -<hr class="chap" /> - -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_246" id="Page_246">[246]</a></span></p> - -<div class="chapter"> - -<h2 class="p4"><a name="c246" id="c246">CHAPTER XVIII</a></h2> - -<p class="pch">COUNT JAUFRE</p> - -<p class="pn"><span class="smcap">The</span> day was soft and bright, neither hot nor cold, -and at the mid-morning. Half-way between the -walls of Roche-de-Frêne and the host of Montmaure, -in a space clear of any cover that might be used for -ambushes, rose a blue pavilion, a green and silver -pavilion, and one between that carried these colours -blended. Before the blue pavilion hung a banner -with a blue field and the arms of Roche-de-Frêne, -before the green and silver Montmaure’s banner; -before the third pavilion the two ensigns were fixed -side by side. Those who had pitched the pavilions -and made lavish preparation were servants of Montmaure. -Montmaure was the host this day. Led blindfold -into Roche-de-Frêne, through the streets and -in at the castle gate, had gone four great barons, -hostages for the green and silver’s faith.</p> - -<p>A trumpet sounded from the town. A trumpet -answered for Montmaure. The Princess of Roche-de-Frêne -rode through the gates upon her white -Arabian. Behind her came two ladies, Guida and -Maeut, and after these rode fifty knights. All wound -down the hillside that was pitted and scarred and -strewn with many a battle token. To meet them, -started from the tented plain fifty knights of Montmaure,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_247" id="Page_247">[247]</a></span> -and at their head Count Jaufre. Count -Savaric, it was known, suffered yet at times with the -wound he had got in the spring from Stephen the -Marshal. It seemed that it was so in the week of -this meeting. He was laid in his tent in the hands -of his leech. But by cry of herald he had made -known that his son’s voice and presence were his -own. The Princess of Roche-de-Frêne would meet -in Count Jaufre no less a figure than the reigning -count. Thus Jaufre rode alone at the head of the -fifty knights.</p> - -<p>He rode a great steed caparisoned as for a royal -tourney. He himself wore mail beneath a surcoat -of the richest samite, but he had embroidered gloves, -not battle gauntlets, and in place of helmet a cap -sewn with gems and carrying an eagle feather. The -one train came down the hill, the other crossed the -level, overburned, and trodden earth. The two met -with fanfare of trumpets and caracoling of steeds -and chivalrous parade, close at hand the coloured -pavilions, overhead the sapphire sky, around the -breath of autumn.</p> - -<p>Jaufre sprang from his courser, hastened to the -Arabian and would aid the princess to dismount. He -swept his cap from his head. Red-gold locks and -hawk nose, and on the right cheek a long scar, curiously -shaped.... The Princess Audiart sat very -still upon her white Arabian. Then she smiled, dismounted, -and gave Jaufre de Montmaure her -gloved hand.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_248" id="Page_248">[248]</a></span></p> - -<p>Jaufre was adept, when he so chose, in <i>courtoisie</i>. -He had learned the value and the practice of it in -Italy, and learned, in his fellowship with Richard -Lion-Heart, to temper it with the cool snow of exaltation -and poetry—or to seem to temper it. -Richard truly did so. To-day this one acre of earth -was a court, and he was prepared to behave to the -ruler of Roche-de-Frêne as to a fair woman who -chanced to be high-born. All the past fighting -should be treated with disdain as a lovers’ quarrel! -Count Jaufre had chosen a rôle, and practised it in -his mind, with a smile upon his lips. He did not forget, -nor did he wish the princess to forget, how much -stronger was the host of Montmaure, and that the -siege must end in humbling for Roche-de-Frêne and -victory for Montmaure. Male strength—male -strength was his! He was prepared to show his consciousness -of that. He had had lovers’ quarrels -before—he could not remember how many. He remembered -with complacence that—usually—the -other side had come to its knees. If the other side -had given him much trouble, made him angry, he -then repaid it. That was what was going to happen -here. But, to-day, joy and courtesies and the <i>gai -science</i>! Show this Audiart the Wise the lord she -thought she could refuse! So he met the princess, -curled, pressed, and panoplied with courtliness. He -out-poetized the poets, beggared the goddesses of -attributes. He strewed painted flowers before the -Princess of Roche-de-Frêne, then, his count’s cap<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_249" id="Page_249">[249]</a></span> -again upon his head, led her over the battle-cleansed -space to the three pavilions.</p> - -<p>Her ladies followed her. The hundred knights, -dismounting, fraternized. The air was sweet; over -high-built town and castle, sweep of martial -plain, cloud-like blue mountains, sprang a serenest -roof of heaven. The knights gave mutual enmity -a day’s holiday, and, having done a good deed, -gained thereupon a line in stature. Many of them -knew one another, name and appearance and fame. -They had encountered in tourney, in hall and bower, -and in battle. Fortune had at times ranged them on -the same side. A fair number wore the sign of the -crusader. Under either banner were famous knights. -The time craved fame and worshipped it. War, love, -song, and—the counter-pole—asceticism were -your trodden roads to fame. Now and then one -reached it by a path just perceptible in the wilderness; -but more fell in striving to make such a -path. There were famous knights among the hundred, -and by this time none more famed than Garin -of Castel-Noir, Garin of the Golden Island. Sir -Aimar de Panemonde was as brave, but Garin was -troubadour no less than knight, and about what he -did, in either way, dwelt a haunting magic.</p> - -<p>Montmaure led the princess to the blue pavilion. -It was hers, with her ladies, to refresh herself therein. -He himself crossed to the green and silver, drank -wine, and looked forth upon the mingling of knights. -“Let us see,” ran his thought, “the jade’s choice!<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_250" id="Page_250">[250]</a></span>” -He saw valiant men, known afar, or come in this -siege to their kind’s admiration. “Ha!” he said to -Guiraut of the Vale who stood beside him. “She -knows how to cull her garden!”.</p> - -<p>“She has more mind, lord, than a woman should -have!”</p> - -<p>He thought to please Count Jaufre, what he said -differing not at all from what he had heard his lord -say. But Jaufre frowned. Reckoning the princess -his own, it was not for a vassal to speak slightingly! -A shifting of the knights took place. It brought into -view one whom Montmaure had not earlier seen. -“Eye of God! will she bring that devil with her?”</p> - -<p>Guiraut followed the pointing finger. “That is the -crusader and troubadour, Garin de Castel-Noir.”</p> - -<p>“Devil and double-devil!” burst forth Jaufre. -“When I take Roche-de-Frêne, woe to you, devil! -I hope you be not slain before that day!”</p> - -<p>The blood was in his face, his eyes narrowed to a -slit, his red-gold locks seemed to quiver. Another -movement of knights in the giant cluster, and Garin -was hid from his sight. He turned and drank again, -with an effort composed his countenance and, a -signal being given, left his pavilion. At the same -moment the princess quitted the blue; they came -together to the great pavilion of the blended colours -and the two banners. Here, beneath a canopy, were -chairs, with a rich carpet for the feet. Jaufre had -provided music, which played,—not loudly, nor -so as to trouble their parley.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_251" id="Page_251">[251]</a></span></p> - -<p>The princess had a robe of brown samite, with a -mantle of the same; but over the robe, in place of -silken bliaut, she wore fine chain-mail, and in a -knight’s belt of worked leather, a rich dagger. Her -braided hair was fastened close, with silver pins, -beneath a light morion. She sat down, looked at -Jaufre opposite. “In this war, my lord, we have not -met so near before.”</p> - -<p>“Never have we met, princess, so near before!” -He bent toward her, warm, red-gold, and mighty. -This meeting was for condescension, grace, spring -touches in autumn! He found her face not so bad, -better much than long-ago rumour had painted. His -memory carried pictures of her in this siege—upon -her war horse before the bridge was taken, or in sallies -from the gates, in a night-time surprise, by the -flare of torches, or upon the walls, above the storming -parties. But he had seen her somewhat distantly, -never so close as this. That was the inward -reason why he had urged this meeting: he wished to -see her close. He felt the stirring of a thwart desire. -He wished to embrace—since that was what she -refused—and to crush. He could admire the courage -in her—he had courage himself, though little -did he know of magnanimity. “We should have -met,” he said, “before we went to war!”</p> - -<p>Audiart regarded him with a stilly look. “Perhaps, -my lord, we should have warred where’er we -met.—It has been eight years since you came from -Italy.”</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_252" id="Page_252">[252]</a></span></p> - -<p>“Eight years.—Eye of God! they have been full -years!”</p> - -<p>“Yes. Each has been an ocean. I remember, it -was near this season.”</p> - -<p>Jaufre’s brows bore a marking of surprise. “Tell -me why you hold that year in memory—”</p> - -<p>The princess sat with a faint smile upon her face, -her eyes upon the world beyond the canopy. The -latter stretched but overhead; the hillside, the town, -the tented plain were visible, and in the foreground -the company of knights where they were gathered -beneath olive and almond trees.</p> - -<p>“That year, my lord count, I first saw your father, -the ‘great count.’ The prince my father made a -tourney in honour of a guest who, like you, my lord, -sought a bride. And by chance there came riding by -Roche-de-Frêne—that you must know, my lord, -gave always frank welcome to neighbours—Count -Savaric of Montmaure. My father gave him good -welcome, and also my step-dame, Madame Alazais, -and myself, and he sat with us and watched the -knights joust.... There is where you come in, my -lord! One asked why you were not with Count -Savaric, for it was known that you had lately come -back to Montmaure from Italy.” She turned her -eyes upon him and smiled again. “I remember almost -Count Savaric’s words! ‘My son,’ he said, -‘would go a-hunting! Giving chase to a doe, he outstripped -his men. Then burst from a thicket a -young wolf which attacked him and tore his side.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_253" id="Page_253">[253]</a></span> -He cannot yet sit his horse. I have left him at -Montmaure where he studies chivalry, and makes, -I doubt not, chansons for princesses.’”</p> - -<p>The blood flooded Montmaure’s brow and cheek. -He stared, not at the Princess of Roche-de-Frêne, -but forth upon the train of knights. “Eye of God!” -he breathed. “That wolf—! Eye of God!”</p> - -<p>“My lord count,” said the princess, “did you -afterwards hunt down and kill the wolf? I never -heard—and I have always wished to hear.”</p> - -<p>“No! He ran free! Heart of Mahound—!”</p> - -<p>Light played over the princess’s face, but Jaufre, -choking down the thought of the wolf, did not note -it. He opened his lips to speak further of that eight-years-past -autumn, thus brought up by chance, and -of the wolf; then thought better of it. As for Audiart, -she thought, “Vengeful so toward a poor squire who -but once, and long ago, crossed his evil will! Then -what might Roche-de-Frêne hope for?”</p> - -<p>Jaufre, regaining command of himself, signalled -for wine. A page brought rich flagons upon a rich -salver. Jaufre filled a cup, touched it with his lips, -offered it to the princess. He was growing cool again, -assured as before. There was flattery, in her recalling -the moment of his return from Italy, in her remembering, -across the years, each word that had -been spoken of him!</p> - -<p>She took the cup—he noted how long and finely -shaped were the fingers that closed upon it—and -drank, then, smiling, set it down. “That is a<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_254" id="Page_254">[254]</a></span> -generous wine, my lord—a wine for good neighbours!”</p> - -<p>“It is not a wine of Montmaure but of Roche-de-Frêne,” -said Jaufre. “Save indeed that, as I have -taken the fields that grew the grapes and the town -that sold the wine, it may be said, princess, to be of -Montmaure!”</p> - -<p>Audiart the Wise sat silent a moment, her eyes -upon her foe. She was there because the need of -Roche-de-Frêne sucked at her heart. But she knew—she -knew—that it would not avail! Yet she -spoke, low, deep and thrillingly. “My lord, my -lord, why should we fight? Truth my witness, if -ever I wished Montmaure harm, I’ll now unwish it! -Do you so, my lord, toward Roche-de-Frêne! This -sunny, autumn day—if we were at peace, how -sweet it were! This land garlanded, and Montmaure—and -men and women faring upward—and -anger, hate, and greed denied—and common -good grown dearer, nearer! Ah, my Lord Count -Jaufre, lift this siege, and win a knightlier, lordlier -name than warring gives—”</p> - -<p>Jaufre broke in. “Are marriage bells ringing in -your pleading, my princess? If they ring not, all -that is said says naught!”</p> - -<p>She looked at him with a steadfast face. “Marriage -bells?... Give me all that is in your mind, my lord.”</p> - -<p>Jaufre drank again. “Marriage bells ringing over -our heads where we stand in the Church of Saint -Eustace in Montmaure.”</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_255" id="Page_255">[255]</a></span></p> - -<p>“<i>In Montmaure....</i> Did you and I wed, my -lord, I must come to you in Montmaure?”</p> - -<p>“So! I will give you escort—a thousand spears.”</p> - -<p>“And Roche-de-Frêne?—and Roche-de-Frêne—”</p> - -<p>“As I may conceive,” said Jaufre, “dealing with -my own.”</p> - -<p>The princess sat very still. Only her eyes moved, -and they looked from Count Jaufre to the walled -town and back again. Montmaure had pushed back -his seat. He sat propping his chin with his hand, -his hot gaze upon her. “Roche-de-Frêne,” she said -at last,—”Roche-de-Frêne would have no guaranty?”</p> - -<p>“Eye of God!” answered Jaufre. “I will not -utterly destroy what comes to me in wedlock! What -interest would that serve? It shall feel scourges, but -I shall not tumble each stone from its fellow! Take -that assurance, princess!”</p> - -<p>She sat silent. “After all,” said her thought, -“you have only what you knew you would get!” -Within she knew grim laughter, even a certain relief. -Would she sacrifice or would she not, no good -would come from Montmaure to Roche-de-Frêne! -Then, fight on, and since thus it was, fight with an -undivided will! Resistance rose as from sleep, refreshed. -She smiled. “I am glad that I came, my -Lord of Montmaure,” she said, and spoke in a pure, -limpid, uncoloured voice. “Else, hearing from another -your will, I might not have believed—”</p> - -<p>“Eye of God! Madame, so it is!” said Jaufre, and<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_256" id="Page_256">[256]</a></span> -in mind heard the bells of the Church of Saint -Eustace, and the shouting in Montmaure.</p> - -<p>The Princess of Roche-de-Frêne stood up in her -brown samite, and sheath of chain-mail and morion -that reflected the sunbeams. “Having now your -mind, my lord count, I will return to Roche-de-Frêne!”</p> - -<p>She signed to her train that was watching. The -squires brought before the pavilion her white Arabian -and the palfreys of Guida and Maeut. The movement -spread to the knights beneath the trees.... -Jaufre, rising also, inwardly turned over the matter -of how soon she had willed to depart, to bring short -this splendidly-prepared-for visit. That she would -be gone from him and any further entertainment -displeased, but was salved by the thought that she -was in flight to conceal her lowered and broken -pride. He was conscious that he had not maintained -his intention of suavity, <i>courtoisie</i>. When Richard -was not there, he did not well keep down the pure -savage. That talk of hers of the “wolf” had poured -oil on the red embers of a score unpaid. That the -wolf was there in presence—that he, Jaufre, did -not wish to tell as much to the world and Audiart -the Wise, letting them see what score had gone unpaid—increased -the heat. It burned within Jaufre -with a smouldering that threatened flame. On the -other hand, the person of this princess pleased him -more than he had looked for. And it was delightsome -to him, the taste of having made her taste him, his<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_257" id="Page_257">[257]</a></span> -power, purpose, and mode of dealing! He felt that -longer stay would accomplish no more; he was not -without a dash of the artist. He, too, signed for his -great bay—for his knights to prepare to follow -him from these gay pavilions. To-morrow morn this -truce would shut—unless, ere that, she sent a -herald with her plain surrender!</p> - -<p>She was speaking, in the same crystal, uncoloured -voice. “Are you so sure, my lord, that you win? Do -you always win? What were we talking of at first? -A doe that escaped from under your hand, and a -wolf that laid you low in a forest glade and went his -way in safety?—My Lord of Montmaure, I defy -you! and sooner than wed with you I with this dagger -will marry Death!” She touched it where it -hung at her belt, moved to her Arabian, and sprang -to the saddle.</p> - -<p>Her following, though but a few had heard what -passed between her and Montmaure, saw that there -was white wrath, and that the meeting was shortened -beyond expectation. Montmaure’s knights -marked him no less—that suddenly his mood was -black. All of either banner got to horse.</p> - -<p>The veins of Jaufre’s brow were swollen. The -company of knights forming about the Princess of -Roche-de-Frêne, the “wolf” came suddenly into -his field of vision.... The “singing knight” placed -in her chosen band by Roche-de-Frêne’s princess—the -“wolf” protected by her and favoured! Till -that instant he had not thought of them together—but<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_258" id="Page_258">[258]</a></span> -now with lightning swiftness his fury forged a -red link between them. He did not reason—certainly -he gave her no place in the forest, eight years -agone—but he desired, he lusted to slay the one -before the eyes of the other! He thrust out a clenched -hand, he spoke with a thickened voice. Whatever -in him had note of a saving quality was passed by -the stride of its opposite.</p> - -<p>“Ha, my Princess Audiart, that men call the -Wise! I will tell you that your wisdom will not save -you—nor Roche-de-Frêne—nor yonder knight, -my foe, that I hold in loathing and will yet break -upon a wheel!” He laughed, sitting his great bay -horse, and with a gesture shook forth vengeance. -“To-morrow morn, look to yourselves!”</p> - -<p>“My Lord of Montmaure, we shall!” The princess -gave command, the train from Roche-de-Frêne -drew away from the pavilions, the knights of Montmaure -and Count Jaufre. “Farewell, my lord!” -cried Audiart the Wise, “and for hospitality and -frank speech much thanks! I love not war, but, if -you will have it so, I will war!”</p> - -<p>The trumpets sounded. They who watched from -the walls saw the two trains draw apart and their -own come in order up the winding road that climbed -to the town. Their own reached the gates and entered.... In -the market-place, the bell having -drawn the people together, the princess spoke to -them, her voice, clear, firm, and with hint of depth -beyond depth, reaching the outermost fringing sort.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_259" id="Page_259">[259]</a></span> -She spoke at no great length but to the purpose, -then asked their mind and waited to hear it.</p> - -<p>Raimon, Lord of Les Arbres, a great baron, the -greatest vassal of Roche-de-Frêne there present, -spoke from the train of fifty, speaking for those lords -and knights and for all chivalry in Roche-de-Frêne. -“My Lady Audiart, we are your men! Hold your -courage and we shall hold ours! There is not here -lord nor belted knight nor esquire who wishes for -suzerain the Counts of Montmaure! We will keep -Roche-de-Frêne until we know victory or perish!”</p> - -<p>The captain of the crossbowmen, a giant of a man, -spoke with a booming voice. “The sergeants, the -bowmen, the workers of the machines and the foot-soldiers -sing Amen! The princess is a good princess -and a noble and a wise, and no man here fails of his -pay! Montmaure is a niggard and a hard lord. We -are yours to the end, my Lady Audiart!”</p> - -<p>Thibaut Canteleu spoke for the town. “Since the -world will have it that we must have lords, give us -your like for lord, my Lady Audiart! We know what -a taken and sacked town is when Montmaure takes -and sacks it! But open our gates to him at his call, -and what better would we get? Long slavery and -slow pain, and our children to begin again at the foot -of the stair! So we propose to hold this town, how -hard it is to hold soever!”</p> - -<p>A clerk, standing upon the steps that led to a -house door, sent his voice across the crowded place. -“I will speak though I be excommunicate for it!<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_260" id="Page_260">[260]</a></span> -We hear of the miracle of Father Eustace, and one -tells us that God and His Mother would have our -princess marry Montmaure! I do not believe that -Father Eustace knows the will of God!”</p> - -<p>From the throng came a deep, answering note, a -multitudinous humming doubt if Our Lady of -Roche-de-Frêne had been truly understood. The -people looked at the cathedral tower, and they looked -at the castle and around at their town, their houses, -shops, market, and guild-halls, at the blue sky above -and at their princess. The note sustained itself, -broadened and deepened, became like the sound of -the sea, and said forthright that whatever had been -meant by Our Lady of Roche-de-Frêne, it was not -alliance with Montmaure!</p> - -<p>The Princess of Roche-de-Frêne and her train of -knights rode through the town and mounted to the -castle. Some change in the order of those about her -brought Garin for a moment beside the white Arabian. -The princess turned her head, spoke to him. -“Count Jaufre holds you in some especial hatred. -Why is that?”</p> - -<p>“I crossed him in his will one day, long ago. He -would have done an evil thing, and I, chancing by, -came between him and his prey. He it was who -caused me to flee the land.—But not alone for that -day is there enmity between us!”</p> - -<p>“Ah!” said the princess. “Long is his rosary of -ill deeds! Into my mind to-day comes one that was -long ago, and on a day like this. It comes so clear—!”</p> - -<hr class="chap" /> - -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_261" id="Page_261">[261]</a></span></p> - -<div class="chapter"> - -<h2 class="p4"><a name="c261" id="c261">CHAPTER XIX</a></h2> - -<p class="pch">THE SIEGE</p> - -<p class="pn"><span class="smcap">Montmaure</span> had wooden towers drawn even with -the walls of Roche-de-Frêne. From the tower-heads -they strove to throw bridges across, grapple them to -the battlements, send over them—a continuing -stream—the starkest fighters, beat down the wall’s -defenders, send the stream leaping down into the -town itself. Elsewhere, under cover of huge shielding -structures, Montmaure mined, burrowing in the -earth beneath the opposed defences, striving to -bring stone and mortar down in ruin, make a breach -whereby to enter. Montmaure had Greek fire, and -engines of power to cast the flaming stuff into the -town. He had great catapults which sent stones with -something of the force of cannon-balls, and battering -rams which shook the city gates. He had archers and -crossbowmen who from high-built platforms sent -their shafts in a level flight against the men of -Roche-de-Frêne upon the walls. He had a huge host -to throw against the town—men of Montmaure, -men, a great number, given by Duke Richard. He -had enough to fight and to watch, and to spare from -fighting and watching. He ravaged the country and -had food.</p> - -<p>Roche-de-Frêne fought with the wooden towers,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_262" id="Page_262">[262]</a></span> -threw down the grappling hooks and the bridges, -thrust the stream back, broken and shattered into -spray. It sallied forth against those who mined, -beat down and set afire the shielding structures, -drove from the field the sappers at the walls. It had -some store of Greek fire and used it; it had engines -of power and great catapults that sent stones with -something of the force of cannon-balls against those -towers and scaffolds of the foe. Roche-de-Frêne had -archers and crossbowmen, none better, who from -walls and gate-towers sent shafts in level flights -against the high platforms, and in slant lines against -Montmaure attacking in mass, against men upon -scaling ladders. It had men whose trade was war, -knight and squire, sergeant and footman, lord and -Free Companion,—and men whose trade was not -war, but who now turned warrior, burghers fighting -for their liberties, their home and their work. But -it had not the numbers that had Montmaure. It -knew double-tides of fighting and watching. It had -deep wells and an immemorially strong-flowing -spring. But food was failing—failing fast! It had -heroism of man, woman, and child. But hunger and -watching and battle at last must wear the highest -spirit down, or if not the spirit, the body with which -it is clothed.</p> - -<p>It was late, late autumn—Saint Martin’s summer. -The days that had passed since that short -truce and meeting with Montmaure had laid shadows -beneath the eyes of the Princess Audiart....<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_263" id="Page_263">[263]</a></span> -To-day had seen heavy fighting and slaughter. Now -it was night, and Audiart in the White Tower knelt -within the window and looked forth upon the castle -buildings, courts, towers, and walls, and upon the -roofs of the town, and the cathedral tower, and -further to where showed red light of Montmaure’s -vast encampment. She had been, through the day, -upon the walls.... Her head sank upon her arms. -“Jesu, and Mother Mary, and whoever is pitiful, -I, too, am weary of slaughter! A better way—a -better way—”</p> - -<p>She stayed so for some minutes; then, lifting her -head, gazed again into the night. “Who has the -key?” she said. “Duke Richard has the key.” -Presently she stood up, rested hands upon the stone -sill, drew a deep breath. Her lips parted, her glance -swept the wide prospect, then lifted to the stars. -“If I have wit enough and courage enough—that -might be—” A colour crept into her face. “Was -never a right way seemed not at first most hazardous -and strange—so much more used are we to the -wrong ways!”</p> - -<p>She looked at the clusters of stars, she looked at -the town below that seemed to sigh in its restless and -troubled sleep, she looked at the dimly seen, far -mountains behind which sank the stars. The cool -autumn air touched her brow. “Where all is desperate, -be more desperate—and pass!” She -stretched out her hand to the night. “I will do it!”</p> - -<p>Morning broke, a sky of rose and pearl over<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_264" id="Page_264">[264]</a></span> -Roche-de-Frêne. The sun rose, and the rays came -into the chamber where was being nursed back to -life and strength Stephen the Marshal. Each day -now saw improvement; as the year ebbed, the vital -force in him gained. Gaunt and spectre-pale, he yet -left his bed each day; arm over his squire’s shoulder, -walked slowly to a great chair by the window, sat -there wrapped in a furred robe, and listened to the -ocean of sound that now was Roche-de-Frêne. -Sometimes the ocean had only a murmuring voice, -and sometimes for long hours it raged in storm. -Stephen prayed for patience and from minute to -minute sent page and squire for news. This morn -dawned in quiet; yesterday, all day there had been -storm. The sun gilded the court beneath and the -chapel front, built at angles with the great pile in -which he was lodged. He could hear the chanting -of the mass. That was ended, the sunshine strengthened, -somewhere a trumpet was blown. Stephen -prayed again for patience, and despatched his -squire Bertran for authentic tidings. Bertran went, -but presently returned, having met without a page -sent by the princess. She would know of Lord -Stephen’s health this morn, and if he felt strength -for a visit from her and some talk of importance. -Stephen sent answer that he wished for no greater -cordial.</p> - -<p>Audiart came, with her Maeut, who, with the -squires and the old nurse, waited in a small ante-room. -That which the princess had to say wanted<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_265" id="Page_265">[265]</a></span> -no auditors other than those whom she chose—and -for this matter she would choose but few. Stephen, -gaunt and drained of blood, stood to greet her, -would not sit until she had taken the chair they had -placed.</p> - -<p>She looked at him very kindly. “Lord Stephen, -much would I give to see the old Stephen here—”</p> - -<p>“Ah, God, madam!” said Stephen, “not here -would you see him, but out there where they fight -for Roche-de-Frêne.”</p> - -<p>“Aye, that is true!”</p> - -<p>“I shall soon be there, my Lady Audiart—a log -here no longer!”</p> - -<p>“Maître Arnaut tells me that. I talked with him -before coming here. He says that yet a few days, -and you might take command.”</p> - -<p>“As I will, princess, if you give it me—But no -man lives who can better your leading!”</p> - -<p>“My leading or another’s, Stephen, our case is -desperate. The deer feels the breath of the hounds.... -Now listen to me, and let not strangeness -startle your mind. At the brink of no further going, -then it is that we fare forth and go further!”</p> - -<p>The sun rode higher by an hour before she left -Stephen the Marshal. She left him a flushed, half-greatly-rallied, -half-foreboding man, but one wholly -servant of her and of Roche-de-Frêne’s great need,—one, -too, who could follow mind with mind, and -accept daring, when daring promised results, with -simplicity.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_266" id="Page_266">[266]</a></span></p> - -<p>From this chamber she went to the castle-hall and -found there, awaiting her, Thibaut Canteleu, for -whom she had sent. She took him upon the dais, her -attendants clustering at the lower end of the hall, out -of hearing.</p> - -<p>“Thibaut,” she said, “there is good hope that in -a week Lord Stephen may take again his generalship.”</p> - -<p>“I am glad, my lady,” answered Thibaut, “for -Lord Stephen, for ’tis weary lying ill in time of -war. But we have had as good a general!”</p> - -<p>“That is as may be.... Thibaut, do you see -victory for Roche-de-Frêne?”</p> - -<p>Thibaut uttered a short groan. “My Lady -Audiart, the road is dark—”</p> - -<p>“I think that if we strain to the uttermost we may -hold out yet two months.”</p> - -<p>“Montmaure could never do it, but for Duke -Richard’s men!”</p> - -<p>“Just.... Thibaut, Thibaut, now listen to me, -and when you have heard, speak not loudly! If this -is done, it must slip through in silence.”</p> - -<p>She spoke on for some moments, her voice low but -full of expression, her eyes upon the mayor. She -ended, “And I well believe that you can and will -hold the town until there is seen what comes—”</p> - -<p>Thibaut drew a deep breath. “My Lady Audiart, -trust us, we will!” His black eyes snapped, a laugh -passed like a wave across his face that grew ruddier. -“By Peter and Paul! Now and again in life I myself<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_267" id="Page_267">[267]</a></span> -have come to places where I must see further -than my fellows and dig deeper, or they and I would -perish!—This is a bold thing that you propose, my -lady, and may go to the left instead of the right! -Aye! without doubt Faint-Heart would say, ‘You -follow marsh-fire and trust weight to a straw!’”</p> - -<p>“Yes.... In the story of things what seemed a -beam has been found to be a straw, and what seemed -a straw a beam. May it be so this time!... Now -what we have talked of rests until Lord Stephen -takes command.”</p> - -<p>A week of days and nights went by, filled with -a bitter fighting. But Stephen the Marshal grew -stronger, like the old iron soldier and good general -that he was. Arrived an evening when he came into -hall, walking without help, and though gaunt and -pale so nearly himself that all rejoiced. The next -day he mounted horse and rode beside the princess -through the town to the eastern gate where was now -the fiercest fighting. The knights, the men-at-arms -and citizens cried him welcome. That night Audiart -held full council. When morning came it was -heralded through Roche-de-Frêne that the princess -had made Lord Stephen general again.</p> - -<p>Audiart listened to the trumpets, then with Maeut -she went into the castle garden and found there -Alazais and Guida. She sat beside Alazais beneath a -tree whereon hung yet the gold leaves, and taking -her stepdame’s hand, caressed it. “Come siege, go -siege!” she said, “you rest so beauteous—!”</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_268" id="Page_268">[268]</a></span></p> - -<p>“Audiart! Audiart! when is anxiousness, misery, -and fear going to end? And now they say that you -command that every table alike be given less of -food—”</p> - -<p>The princess stroked the other’s wrist, smiling -upon her. “You know that you do not wish bread -taken from another to be laid in your hand!”</p> - -<p>“No, I do not wish that, but—” The tears fell -from Alazais’s eyes. “What have we done that the -world should turn so black?”</p> - -<p>“Be of cheer!” said Audiart. “The black may -lighten!” She laughed at her step-dame, and at -Guida’s melancholy look. “In these earthy ways -loss has its boundary stone no less than gain! Who -knows but that to-day we turn?—Come close, -Guida and Maeut, for I have something to say to -you three, and want no other—no, not a sparrow—to -hear me!” She spoke on, in a low voice, with occasionally -an aiding gesture, Maeut kindling quickly, -the other two incredulous, objecting, resisting, then, -at last, catching, too, at the straw....</p> - -<p>That morning Montmaure did not push to the -assault. Viewed from the walls, it seemed that -the two counts made changes in the disposition of -the besieging host. Here battalions were drawing -closer, here spreading fan-wise.</p> - -<p>Invest as closely as Montmaure might, Roche-de-Frêne -had gotten out now a man and now a man, -with a cry for aid to the King of France, to Toulouse -and others. One had returned with King Philip’s<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_269" id="Page_269">[269]</a></span> -assurance that he would aid if he could, but harassed -by revolts nearer Paris, could not. Other messengers -had made no return....</p> - -<p>To-day there seemed a redrawing of the investing -lines, a lifting and pitching afresh of encampments. -Roche-de-Frêne, beginning to know hunger, -saw, too, long forage trains come laden to its enemy. -Watching, Roche-de-Frêne thought justly that -Montmaure might be meaning to rest for a time from -assaults in which he lost heavily, heavily—to rest -from assaults and lean upon starvation of his foe. -Famine, famine was his ally—famine and Aquitaine! -It was the last that made him able to serve -himself with the first.</p> - -<p>Garin, going toward the castle from the town’s -eastern gate, heard in the high street the trumpet -and the cadenced notice that Stephen the Marshal, -healed of his wound, again commanded for the princess. -The people cried, “Long live the princess! -Long live the marshal!” then, silent or in talk, -turned to the many-headed business of the day. In -front of Garin rose the great mass of the cathedral, -wonderful against the November sky.</p> - -<p>As he came into the place before it, there met him -Pierol, the trusted page of the princess. “Sir Garin -de Castel-Noir, I was sent in search of you! The -princess wishes to speak with you—No, not this -hour! Two hours from now, within the White -Tower.”</p> - -<p>He was gone. “Go you, also,” said Garin to the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_270" id="Page_270">[270]</a></span> -squire Rainier. “Or wait for me here by the door. -I will spend in the church one hour of those two.”</p> - -<p>He went from out the autumn sunshine into the -dusk of the huge interior. An altar-lamp burned, a -star, and light in long shafts fell from the jewel-hued -windows. The pillars soared and upheld the -glorious roof, and all beneath was rich, dim and -solemn. A few figures knelt or stood in nave or aisle. -Garin moved to where he could see the columns -brought by Gaucelm of the Star from the land beyond -the sea and set before the chapel of Our Lady -of Roche-de-Frêne. He knelt, then, crossing himself, -rose and took his seat at the base of a great supporting -pillar. He rested his arm upon his knee, his chin upon -his hand, and studied the pavement. He had not -passed the columns and knelt before the Virgin of -Roche-de-Frêne, because in his heart was an impulse -of hostility. He did not name it, made haste -to force it into limbo, hastened to bow his head and -murmur an <i>Ave Maria</i>. Nevertheless it had made -itself felt. This was the gemmed, azure-clad Queen -who wanted marriage between Montmaure and the -Princess of Roche-de-Frêne!... But doubtless it -was not she—Father Eustace had slandered her—a -lying monk, Heaven knew, was no such rarity! -Garin came back into her court, but still he did not -kneel, and, stretching his arms to her, beg her favour -and some sign thereof, as he had done eight years -ago. He was a graver man now, a deeper poet.</p> - -<p>An inner strife racked him, sitting there at the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_271" id="Page_271">[271]</a></span> -base of the pillar, emotion divided against itself, a -mind bewildered between irreconcilables, a spirit -abashed before its own inconstancy. One moment -it was abashed, the very next it cried, “<i>But I am -constant!</i>” Then came mere aching effort to bring -old order out of this pulsing chaos, and then, that -slipping, an unreasoning, blind and deaf, poignant -and rich, half bliss, half pain—emotions so fused -that there was no separating them, no questioning -or revolt. He sat there as in a world harmonized—then, -little by little, reformed itself the discord, -the question, the passionate self-reproval for disloyalty -and the bewildering answering cry from -some mist-wreathed, distance-sunken shore, “<i>I am -not disloyal!</i>” and then the query of the mind, “<i>How -can that be?</i>” Garin buried his face in his hands, sat -moveless so in the cathedral dusk. Within, there -was vision, though not yet was it deep enough. He -was seeing the years through which he had sung to -the Fair Goal.</p> - -<p>The time went by. He dropped his hands, rose, -and after a genuflection left the great church. -Without, Rainier joined him. Together they climbed -the steepening street, crossed the castle moat, and -entering between Lion and Red Towers, went to the -building that lodged De Panemonde and Castel-Noir. -Thence, presently, fresh of person and attire, he -came alone, and alone crossed courts and went -through rooms and echoing passage-ways and by the -castle garden until he came to the White Tower.</p> - -<hr class="chap" /> - -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_272" id="Page_272">[272]</a></span></p> - -<div class="chapter"> - -<h2 class="p4"><a name="c272" id="c272">CHAPTER XX</a></h2> - -<p class="pch">THE WHITE TOWER</p> - -<p class="pn"><span class="smcap">Upon</span> the wide steps that led to the door he found -Pierol, who, turning, went before him through a hall -or general room to a flight of stone steps winding -upward. From this he was brought into a small -room where were ladies and pages. Pierol, motioning -to him to wait, vanished through an opposite door, -then in a moment reappeared. Garin, answering his -sign, went forward and, passing beneath the lintel, -found himself in the princess’s chamber.</p> - -<p>She sat beside a table placed for the better light -before the southern window. She had been writing; -as she looked up, the light behind her made a kind of -aureole for her head and long throat and slender, -energetic form. “Give you good day, Sir Garin de -Castel-Noir!” She nodded to Pierol and the girl -Maeut, who left the room. Near her stood a middle-aged, -thin, scholarly-appearing man in a plain dress—her -secretary, Master Bernard. She spoke to him, -giving directions. He answered, gathered up papers -from the table, and bowing low, followed Pierol and -Maeut. The princess sat on for a few moments in -silence, her forehead resting upon her hand. To -Garin, standing between table and door, the whole -fair, large room, the figured hangings, the beamed<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_273" id="Page_273">[273]</a></span> -ceiling, the deep-set windows, the floor where were -strewn autumn buds and shoots from the garden, -seemed a rich casket filled with a playing light. The -light had a source. Garin felt a madness, a desire to -sink wholly into the light, a wish to unclasp once -and forever the hold of the past, accompanied by a -dizzying sense that in no wise might it be done. The -inner man put steadying hands upon himself, forced -himself to look into the eye of the day and of duty.</p> - -<p>The princess let fall her hand, turned slightly in -her chair, and faced him. Her look was still and intent; -behind it stood a strong will, an intelligence of -wide scope. There might seem, besides, a glow, a -tension, an urging as of something that would bloom -but was held back, postponed, dominated. She -spoke and her voice had a golden and throbbing -quality. “I have sent for you, Sir Knight, because -I wish to ask of some one great service, and it -has seemed to me that you would answer to my asking”—</p> - -<p>Garin came nearer to her. “I answer, my lady.”</p> - -<p>“You will be, and that for long days, in great -peril. Peril will begin this very eve. I do not wish -now to tell you the nature of your adventure—or -to tell you more than that it is honourable.”</p> - -<p>“Tell me what you will, and no more than that.”</p> - -<p>“Then listen, and keep each step in mind—and -first of all, that the matter is secret.”</p> - -<p>“First, it is secret.”</p> - -<p>“At dusk a jongleur will come to your lodging,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_274" id="Page_274">[274]</a></span> -bringing with him a dress like his own, his lute and -other matters. Clothe yourself like him, cut your -hair closer, somewhat darken your face. Let him -aid you; he is faithful. Wear a dagger, but no other -arms nor armour. You will go, too, afoot. Knightly -courage you will need, but keen wit must do for -hauberk and destrier, sword and lance. When you -are dressed you are henceforth, for I know not how -many days or weeks, the jongleur Elias of Montaudon.”</p> - -<p>“Thus far, I have it in mind.—<i>Elias of Montaudon.</i>”</p> - -<p>“You know the postern called the rock-gate, on -the northern face, between Black Tower and Eagle -Tower?”</p> - -<p>“Yes.”</p> - -<p>“When the bells are ringing complin you will go -there alone. You will wait, saying naught to any who -may come or go. If you are challenged you will say -that you are there upon the princess’s errand, and -you will give the word of the night. It is <i>Two Falcons</i>.”</p> - -<p>“At complin. <i>Two Falcons.</i>”</p> - -<p>“You will wait until there comes to you one mantled. -That one will give you a purse, and will say -to you, ‘Saint Martin’s summer.’ You will answer -‘Dreams may come true.’”</p> - -<p>“‘<i>Saint Martin’s summer.</i>’—‘<i>Dreams may come -true.</i>’”</p> - -<p>“The purse you will take and keep—keep hidden.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_275" id="Page_275">[275]</a></span> -It will be for need. That mantled one you are -to follow, and, without question, obey.—Now tell -over each direction.”</p> - -<p>Garin told, memory making no slip. He ended, -“I am to follow that one who, giving me a purse, -says <i>Saint Martin’s summer</i>. He commands and I -obey—”</p> - -<p>“As you would myself,” said the princess.</p> - -<p>She turned in her chair, looked beyond him out -of the window upon tower and roof and wall and the -November sky of a southern land. “I hold you true -knight, true poet, true man,” she said. “Else never -should I give you this charge! Keep that likewise -in memory, Sir Garin de Castel-Noir, Sir Garin de -l’Isle d’Or!—And now you will go. Tell Sir Aimar -de Panemonde that you have been set a task and -given an errand full of danger, but that, living, he -may see you again by Christmas-tide. Tell no one -else anything.”</p> - -<p>“Going on such an errand and so long,” said -Garin, “and one from which there may be no returning, -I would kiss your hands, my liege—”</p> - -<p>She gave her hand to him. He knelt and kissed the -slender, long, embrowned fingers. As they rested, -that moment, upon his own hand, there came into -his mind some association. It came and was gone -like distant lightning, and he could not then give it -name or habitation. He rose and stepped backward -to the door. “God be with you, my Lady Audiart—”</p> - -<p>“And with you,” the princess answered gravely.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_276" id="Page_276">[276]</a></span></p> - -<p>Outside the White Tower he paused a moment and -looked about him, his eyes saying farewell to a place -that in actuality he might not see again. It was the -same with the garden through which he presently -passed. Now it was sunshine, but he thought of it -in dusk, the eve when he had been there with the -princess. Later in the day he found Aimar, and told -him as much as he had been told to tell and no more. -The two brothers-in-arms spent an hour together, -then they embraced and Aimar went to the men of -both, defending the city wall. When the sun hung -low in the west, Garin sent there also his squire -Rainier. The sun sank and he stood at his window -watching.</p> - -<p>Around the corner came a man in brown and yellow -like autumn leaves. Slung from his neck by a -red ribbon he had a lute, and under his arm a -bundle wrapped in cloth. He reached the entrance -below, spoke to the porter and vanished within. -Garin, turning from the window, answered presently -to a knock at the door. “Enter!” There came in, -the room being yet lit by the glow from the western -sky, the brown and yellow man. He proved to be a -slender, swarthy person, with long, narrow eyes and -a Moorish look. “I speak,” he asked, “to the right -noble knight and famed troubadour Sir Garin of the -Black Castle—also called of the Golden Island?”</p> - -<p>“I am Sir Garin. I know you for the jongleur, -Elias of Montaudon.”</p> - -<p>“That poor same, fair sir!—Moreover I have<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_277" id="Page_277">[277]</a></span> -here that which will make in the castle of Roche-de-Frêne -two of me!” He laid the bundle on a bench, -and slipping the ribbon from his neck placed there -the lute as well. “When I think that from so famous -a troubadour I am set to make a poor jongleur, I -know not how to take my task! But princesses are -to be obeyed, and truly I would do much for this -one! And for your comfort, lord,—only for that -and never for vain-glory,—I would have you to wit -that Elias of Montaudon hath a kind of fame of his -own!” As he spoke he untied the bundle. “It is -an honour that you should deign to wear me, so -to speak, in whatever world you are repairing to—and -Saint Orpheus my witness, I know not where -that world may be! So, noble sir, here is, at your -pleasure, a holiday suit—only a little worn—and -a name no more frayed than is reasonably to be expected!”</p> - -<p>“Gramercy for both,” answered Garin. “How -have you fared between the days of Guy of Perpignan -and now?”</p> - -<p>He took the lute from the bench, swept the strings, -and sang, though not loudly:—</p> - -<p class="pp6q p1">“In the spring all hidden close,<br /> -Lives many a bud will be a rose!<br /> -In the spring ’tis crescent morn,<br /> -But then, ah then, the man is born!<br /> -In the spring ’tis yea or nay,<br /> -Then cometh Love makes gold of clay!<br /> -Love is the rose and truest gold,<br /> -Love is the day and soldan bold—”</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_278" id="Page_278">[278]</a></span></p> - -<p class="p1">He owned a golden voice. The notes throbbed -through the room. The last died and he laughed. -“That song of Guy of Perpignan!—I heard it first -from you.”</p> - -<p>The jongleur stood staring. “I have been in many -a castle hall and bower, at an infinity of tournaments, -and two or three times where baron and -knight were warring in earnest. Up and down and -to and fro in the world I practice my art, riding when -I can and walking when I must! But when I had -the honour of striking viol, lute or harp before you, -sir, I do not recall. Being so famous a knight and -poet, I should remember—. And then men say -that you have been long years in the land over the -sea!”</p> - -<p>“It was before I went to the land over the sea.—But -come! the sky is fading, it is growing dusk. -Light the candles there, and begin to turn me into -your other self!”</p> - -<p>The candles lighted, the jongleur shook out the -clothing he had brought. “Earth-brown and leaf-green,” -he said, “with a hooded mantle half the one -and half the other.—Now, noble sir, I can play the -squire as well as the squire himself!”</p> - -<p>He took from Garin the garments which the latter -put off, gave him piece by piece those that were to -transform. The two, jongleur and knight and troubadour, -were much of a height. Garin was the more -strongly built, but the garb of the time had amplitude -of line and fold and Elias of Montaudon’s<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_279" id="Page_279">[279]</a></span> -holiday dress fitted him well enough. “Of deliberation -and answering to command,” said the jongleur, -“it has been slightly rent and patched here and discoloured -there. If the Blessed Virgin herself asked -me why, I could not tell her! I have also a phial of a -brown stain which, lightly used, makes for a darker -complexion than the sun has painted you with.... -Sir Garin of the Golden Island, in hall and bower and -wherever chivalry gathers, I have sung songs of -your making. But when and where have I sung -<i>to</i> you? I have curiosity, without which life would -be a dull dream! Give largesse, sir, in the coin of a -wiser world—that is to say, give knowledge!”</p> - -<p>Garin smiled. “I was esquire then, and you sat -by a boulder in the forest, not so many miles from -Roche-de-Frêne and discoursed of jongleur merits -and of an ingrate master, to wit, Guy of Perpignan! -Also you sang certain lines of his, and spoke sapiently -of Lord Love. That, too, was an autumn -day, and when I was a squire I wore brown and -green.”</p> - -<p>The jongleur lifted both hands and beat a measure -upon his brow. “Ha! and by Saint Arion and his -dolphin you did! A proper squire, singing a hunting -stave—Ha!” cried Elias of Montaudon, “I have -heard sing a master-poet before he was poet!</p> - -<p class="pp6q p1">“‘In the spring ’tis crescent morn,<br /> -But then, ah then, the man is born!’</p> - -<p class="pn1">though, certainly, it was autumn!... I remember<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_280" id="Page_280">[280]</a></span> -as clear as crystal! I was asleep, and you waked me, -coming up on a great horse—”</p> - -<p>“Just so. I left the saddle and let Paladin graze, -and we talked.”</p> - -<p>“Clearer than Saint Martha’s well!... The talk -was of love, and that you had not yet a lady—By -all the saints!” said Elias, “how soon must that -have been remedied!”</p> - -<p>Garin laughed, but there was rue in his laughter. -He suddenly grew grave, the rock-gate before his -mind’s eye. “Come! let us have this stain. Shorten, -too, my hair.” He took up Elias’s lute and tried its -strings. “Play the jongleur—play the jongleur. -Every man has in his <i>garde-robe</i> every dress! The -king can play the beggar, and the beggar play -the king. Be quick, courageous, and certain in the -change—so is the trumpet answered!” He put the -lute’s ribbon over his head. “It falls night. Hasten, -Elias of Montaudon, and while you work tell me -your own life these six years! If I make another of -you, I will make it like!”</p> - -<p>The man in brown and yellow worked.... At last -there stood in the lighted room, not a knight and -crusader and troubadour, but a jongleur with a -brown face, with a somewhat tarnished brown and -green attire, with a lute slung by a red ribbon, on his -head a cap with a black cock’s feather, at his belt -a dagger and sheath of the best Italian make. -Dagger and sheath the knight had supplied. It was -now full night, and not so long before, from every<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_281" id="Page_281">[281]</a></span> -house of the religious in Roche-de-Frêne, complin -would ring. The jongleur in brown and yellow took -his leave. He had his fee, he said; likewise a command -as to a bridled tongue. The jongleur in brown -and green saw him go, then put out the candles, -pushed a bench to the window, and sitting down -waited for the signal next in order.... At last the -bells spoke.</p> - -<p>Garin, rising, left the room and descended the -stair. The passage below was in darkness, at the -exit but one smoky torch. He drew the wide mantle -closely about him, pulling the hood over head -and face. His step said to the man at the door, “Sir -Garin.” He passed, an unquestioned inmate, not -clearly seen in the light blown by the autumn wind.</p> - -<hr class="chap" /> - -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_282" id="Page_282">[282]</a></span></p> - -<div class="chapter"> - -<h2 class="p4"><a name="c282" id="c282">CHAPTER XXI</a></h2> - -<p class="pch">THE ROCK-GATE</p> - -<p class="pn"><span class="smcap">At</span> the northern point of the Mount of Roche-de-Frêne, -castle wall and wall of the town made as it -were one height, so close did each approach the other. -Huge rock upon rock, Roche-de-Frêne lifted here -from the plain. This was the impregnable face, -sheer rock and double wall, at the bottom a fosse, -and, grim at the top, against cloud or clear sky, -Black Tower and Eagle Tower. In the high and -thick curtain of stone between was pierced the postern -called the rock-gate. Here Garin came, on a -night not cold and powdered with stars.</p> - -<p>The gate had its turret, and within the shadow of -the wall a long bench of stone. Ordinarily, day or -night, there might be here a watch of twenty men. -To-night he saw that this was not the case. There -was a sentinel pacing to and fro before the turret. -This man stopped him.</p> - -<p>“The princess’s errand,” said Garin.</p> - -<p>“The word?”</p> - -<p>“<i>Two Falcons.</i>”</p> - -<p>“Just.” The speaker paced on.</p> - -<p>Garin, going on to the gate, pondered voice and -air. They seemed to him not those of any customary -sentinel, but of a knight of renown, a foster-brother<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_283" id="Page_283">[283]</a></span> -of the princess. By the turret were other shadowy -figures—three or four. These also kept silence, or, -if they spoke among themselves, spoke briefly and -too low for their words to be distinguished.</p> - -<p>Garin, Elias of Montaudon’s mantle close about -him, sat down upon the bench in the angle made by -wall and turret. He thought that the shadowy figures -took note of him, but they did not speak to him -nor he to them. They and he were silent. There fell -the sentinel’s step, and sounds now vague, now distinct, -from Black Tower and Eagle Tower, both of -which were garrisoned. For the rest came the usual -murmur of the armed and watchful night. Garin -lifted his eyes to the starry sky. At first his faculties -drank simply the splendour of the night, the blended -personalities of scene and hour; then some slight -thing brought Palestine into mind. There came before -the inner vision the eve of his knighthood, when -he had watched his armour in the chapel of a great -castle, crusader-built. That was such a night as -this. There had been an open window, and through -the hours, as he knelt or stood, he had seen the stars -climb upward. The emotion of that night rekindled. -It came from the past like a slender youth -and walked beside the stronger-thewed and older -man. Garin watched the stars, then with a long, -sighing breath, let his gaze fall to the sky-line, vast, -irregular, imposing, and to the mass of buildings that -the earth upheld. Here was deep shadow, here a -pale, starlight illumination. Here light rayed out<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_284" id="Page_284">[284]</a></span> -from narrow windows, or a carried torch or lanthorn -displayed some facet of the whole.</p> - -<p>He turned toward the White Tower. He could see -it dimly between two nearer buildings.... He rose -from the bench. Figures were approaching, two or -three. They also were mantled, face and form. Two -stopped a few steps away, the third came on. He -advanced to meet it. He could only tell that it was -slender, somewhat less tall than himself. The mantle -enveloped, the cowl-like hood enveloped. A hand -held out a purse which he took. It felt heavy; he -put it within the breast of his robe.</p> - -<p>“<i>Saint Martin’s summer</i>,” said a voice.</p> - -<p>He answered. “<i>Dreams may come true.</i>” His -heart beat violently, his senses swam. The stars -overhead seemed to grow larger, to become vast, -throbbing, living jewels. It appeared that the world -slightly trembled....</p> - -<p>The mantled form turned head, motioned to those -who had stopped short. These came up, then after -a word all moved to the rock-gate. To right and -left of this now stood the men who had waited by -the turret. The night had grown still. Montmaure, -busy with changes of position, let night and day -go by without attack. Roche-de-Frêne kept watch -and ward, but likewise, as far as might be, sank to -needed sleep. The investing host, the great dragon -that lay upon the plain, seemed, too, to sleep. The -castle up against the stars slept or held its breath. -The small rock-gate opened. Garin and that one<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_285" id="Page_285">[285]</a></span> -who had given him the purse and changed with him -the countersign passed through. After them came -the two who had accompanied that one. Garin now -saw that the taller of these was Stephen the Marshal. -The gate closed behind them.</p> - -<p>They stood upon a shelf of rock. Below them they -saw the stars mirrored in the castle moat. One of the -accompanying men now passed in front and led the -way. They were in a downward-sloping, tunnel-like -passage. It wound and doubled upon itself; for a -time they descended, then trod a level, then felt that -they were upon a climbing path. At last came again -descent. At intervals they had seen through the -crevices overhead the stars of heaven; now the -passage ended with the stars at their feet, dim light -points in the still water of the moat, stretching immediately -before them, closing their path. A boat, -oared by one man, lay upon it. The four from the -castle towering overhead stepped into this; it was -pushed from the sheer rock. In a moment there -showed no sign of the road by which they had come. -The boat went some way, then turned its prow to -the opposing bank. It rose above them dark and -sheer. No lasting stairway was here, but as the boat -touched the masonry, a hand came over the coping -above, and there dropped one end of a ladder of -rope. The man who had led the way through the -tunnel caught it and fastened it to a stanchion at the -water’s edge.</p> - -<p>“Go first,” said Stephen the Marshal to Garin.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_286" id="Page_286">[286]</a></span></p> - -<p>The latter obeyed, went lightly up the ladder, and -upon the moat’s rugged bank found himself among -two or three men, kneeling, peering down upon the -boat and its occupants. That one who had said -“Saint Martin’s summer” came next, light and -lithe as a boy. Last of the four mounted the one -who had fastened the ladder and gone ahead in the -tunnel. Garin thought him that engineer whom the -princess highly paid and highly trusted.</p> - -<p>They were now between the moat and the wall of -the town, rising, upon this northern face, in the very -shadow of the castle rock. About them were roofs of -houses. They went down a staircase of stone and -came into a lane-like space. Before them sprang, -huge and high, the burghers’ wall, with, on this side, -no apparent gate, but a blankness of stone. On the -parapet above, a sentinel went by, larger than life -against the sky that was paling before the approach -of the moon. Some sound perhaps had been made, -at the moat or upon the stair between the houses; -for now a guard with halberds, a dozen or more, -came athwart their road with a peremptory challenge -to halt.</p> - -<p>A word was given, the guard fell back. The four -from the castle, followed by those who had met -them at the moat, went on, walking in the shadow -of the wall that seemed unbroken, a blank, unpierced -solid. They had moved away from the most precipitous -point of the hill of Roche-de-Frêne, but now -they were bearing back. High above them, almost<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_287" id="Page_287">[287]</a></span> -directly overhead, hung that part of the castle wall -where was set the rock-gate.</p> - -<p>They came to a huge buttress springing inward -from the city wall, almost spanning the way between -it and the moat. Here, in the angle was what they -sought. From somewhere sprang a dim light and -showed a low and narrow opening, a gate more obscure -even and masked than that by which they had -left the castle. Here, too, awaited men; a word was -given and the gate opened. A portcullis lifted, they -passed under, passed outward. There was a sense of -a gulf of air, and then of Montmaure’s watch-lights, -staring up from the plain. As without the gate in the -castle wall, so here, they stood upon a ledge of rock, -masked by a portion of the cliff and by a growth of -bush and vine. Behind them was Roche-de-Frêne, -castle and town; before them the rock fell sheer for -many feet to a base of earth so steep as to be nearly -precipitous. This in turn sank by degrees to a -broken strip, earth and boulder, and to a wood of -small pines which merged with the once-cultivated -plain.</p> - -<p>The dragon that lay about Roche-de-Frêne -watched less closely here to the north. He could not -get at Roche-de-Frêne from this side: he knew that -no torrent of armed men could descend upon him -here. His eyes could not read the two small, ambushed -doors, out of which, truly, no torrent could -come! Perhaps he was aware that the besieged -might, some night-time, let down the cliff spy or<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_288" id="Page_288">[288]</a></span> -messenger striving to make a way north to that distant -and deaf King of France. If so, that daring one -might not at all easily pass the watch that the dragon -kept. Gaultier Cap-du-Loup and his Free Companions -encamped in this northern quarter.</p> - -<p>Those who stood without the wall of Roche-de-Frêne -looked from their narrow footing forth and -down upon the fields of night and the flickering -tokens of the dragon their foe. The men who had -handled the rope-ladder at the moat now knelt at -the edge of this shelf, made fast a like stair but a -longer, weighted the free end with a stone, and swung -it over the cliff side. It fell: the whole straightened -itself, hung a passable road to the foot of the rock. -That attained, there would rest the rough and broken -hillside that fell to the wood, the wood that fell -to the plain where the dragon had dominion. The -night was still, the waning moon pushing up from -the east.</p> - -<p>That one who alone had used the phrase “Saint -Martin’s summer” spoke to Garin: “Go you first,” -and then to Stephen the Marshal: “Now we say -farewell, Lord Stephen!”</p> - -<p>Garin, at the cliff edge, heard behind him the -marshal’s low and fervent commendations to the -Mother of God and every Saint. He himself set his -feet upon the rope-stair, went down the rock-side, -touched the stony earth at the base, stood aside. -That other, that strange companion of this night, -came lightly after—not hurriedly, with a light<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_289" id="Page_289">[289]</a></span> -deliberateness—and stood beside him on the moon-silvered -hill. The moon showed a woman, slender -and lithe, with a peasant’s bodice and ragged, shortened -kirtle and great mantle of frieze. At her word he -loosened the weighting stone, drew at the rope three -times. Those at the top of the rock receiving the -signal, the ladder was drawn slowly up, vanished. -Above the two soared the clean rock, and loftier yet, -the bare, the inaccessible wall of Roche-de-Frêne. -Black Tower and Eagle Tower seemed among the -stars. There was a gulf between them and those -small, hidden, defended entrances. The strained gaze -could see naught but some low, out-cropping bushes -and a trailing vine. Up there the men who had -brought them to that side of the gulf might yet be -gazing outward, listening with bated breath for any -token that that dragon was awake and aware; but -they could not tell if it were so. Up there was the -friendly world, down here the hostile. Up there -might be troubadour-knight and princess, down -here stood jongleur and peasant.</p> - -<p>They stood yet a moment at the foot of the crag, -then she who was dressed as a worker among the -vines or a herd to drive and watch the flocks turned -in silence and began to descend the moonlit boulder-strewn -declivity. She was light of foot, quick and -dexterous of movement. Garin, who was now Elias -of Montaudon, moved beside her. They came down -the steep hill, bare and blanched by the moon. The -dragon had no outpost here; did he plant one, the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_290" id="Page_290">[290]</a></span> -archers upon the town wall might sweep it away. -But the shafts would not reach to the wood—there -perhaps they might hear the dragon’s breathing. -They went without speech, and with no noise that -could be helped of foot against stone.... Here was -a slight fringe of pine and oak. They stood still, -listened—all was silent. They looked back and -saw Roche-de-Frêne and the castle of Roche-de-Frêne -bathed by the grey night.</p> - -<p>“Cap-du-Loup and his men hold in this quarter,” -said the woman in a low voice. “We had a spy forth -who got back to us three days since. Cap-du-Loup’s -tents and booths are thrown and scattered, stony -ground and seams in the earth between the handfuls. -He does not keep stern watch, not looking for -anything of moment to descend this way. Hereabouts -is the ravine of the brook of Saint Laurent, -and half a mile up it a medley of camp-followers, -men and women.”</p> - -<p>She had not ceased to move as she spoke. They -were now in the midst of a spare growth of trees, -under foot a turf burned by the sun and ground to -dust by the tread, through half a year, of a host of -folk. Some distance ahead the night was copper-hued; -over there were camp-fires. They were now, -also, in the zone of a faint confused sound. They -moved aside from the direction of the strongest -light, the deepest, intermittent humming, and came, -presently, to the brook of Saint Laurent. It flowed -through a shallow ravine with rough, scarped banks.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_291" id="Page_291">[291]</a></span> -Down it, too, came faint light and sound, proceeding -from the camp of followers.</p> - -<p>“Our aim,” said she in peasant dress, “is to be -found at dawn among that throng, indistinguishable -from it, and so to pass to its outermost edge and -away.”</p> - -<p>They were standing above the murmuring stream. -Overhead the wind was in the pine-tops. There were -elfin voices, too, of the creatures of the grass and -bush and bark. All life, and life in his own veins, -seemed to Garin to be alert, awake as never before, -quivering and streaming and mounting like flame.</p> - -<p>“I am Elias of Montaudon,” he said. “I understand -that, and how to play the jongleur, and that -if peril comes and stands like a giant and questions -us, I am no jongleur of Roche-de-Frêne nor allied -there—”</p> - -<p>“Say that you are of Limousin.”</p> - -<p>“I have not dropped from the sky into the camp -of Cap-du-Loup, but have been singing and playing, -telling japes and tales, merry or sad, vaulting and -wrestling elsewhere in the host—”</p> - -<p>“With the men of Aquitaine. Say that in Poitou -Duke Richard himself praised you.”</p> - -<p>“And should they question me of you?”</p> - -<p>“I also am of Limousin. There I watched sheep, -but now I am your <i>mie</i> and a traveller with you.”</p> - -<p>“By what name am I to call you?”</p> - -<p>“I am Jael the herd. You will call me Jael.”</p> - -<p>They were moving this while up the stream. Did<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_292" id="Page_292">[292]</a></span> -any come upon them now, it would hardly be held -that they had flown from the battlements of Roche-de-Frêne. -The ground was rough, the trees, crowding -together, shut out the light from the moon, while -the fires at the end of vistas grew ruddier. The muttering -and humming also of the host in the night -increased.</p> - -<p>Jael the herd stood still. “It will not suit us to -stumble in the dark upon some wild band! Here is -Saint Laurent’s garden of safety. Let us rest on the -pine-needles until cock-crow.”</p> - -<p>They lay down, the jongleur wrapped in his mantle, -the herd-girl in hers. “We must gather sleep -wherever it grows,” said the latter. “I will sleep and -you will watch until the moon rounds the top of that -great pine. Wake me then, and look, Elias, that you -do it!”</p> - -<p>She pillowed her head upon the scrip or wallet -which she carried slung over her shoulder, and lay -motionless. The jongleur watched.... The barred -moon mounted higher, the night wheeled, eastern -lands were knowing light. Garin, resting against a -pine trunk, lute and wallet beside him on the earth, -kept his gaze from the sleeper, bestowed it instead -upon the silver, gliding boat of the moon, or upon -the not-distant, murky glare of unfriendly fires. But -gaze here or gaze there, space and time sang to one -presence! Wonder must exist as to this night and -the morrow and what journey was this. Mind could -not but lift the lanthorn, weigh likelihoods, pace<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_293" id="Page_293">[293]</a></span> -around and around the subject. That quest drew -him, but it was not all, nor most that drew.... <i>Jael -the herd! Jael the herd!</i> Here came impossibilities—dreams, -phantasies, rain of gold and silver, impossibilities! -He remembered clearly now a herd-girl, -and that when he had asked her name she had answered -“Jael.” Many shepherdesses trod the earth, -and a many might be named Jael! Moreover sheer, -clear impossibility must conquer, subdue and dispose -of all this mad thinking. She who lay asleep -was like that herd-girl—he saw it now—shape, -colouring, voice—That and the name she had happened -to choose—that and the torn, shepherdess -garb—to that was owed this dizzy dreaming, this -jewelled sleet of fancy, high tide of imagination, -flooding every inland.... Things could not be different, -yet the same—beings could not be separate, -yet one—or in some strange, rich world, could that -be so? But here was mere impossibility! Garin -strove to still the wider and wider vibrations. <i>The -Fair Goal—The Fair Goal!...</i> The moon rounded -the top of the pine tree.</p> - -<p>He crossed to the sleeper’s side, knelt, and spoke -low. “My liege—” She stirred, opened her eyes. -“My liege, the moon begins to go down the sky.”</p> - -<p>With her hand pressed against the pine-needles -she rose to a sitting posture. “I slept—and, by my -faith, I wanted sleep! Now it is your turn. Do not -again call me liege or lady or princess or Audiart. -The wind might carry it to Cap-du-Loup. Say always<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_294" id="Page_294">[294]</a></span> -to me, ‘Jael.’ And now lie down and sleep. I will -wake you when the east is grey.”</p> - -<p>Garin slept. The Princess Audiart rested against -a tree, and now watched the moon, and now the -fires kindled by her foe and Roche-de-Frêne’s, and -now she watched the sleeping man. The attire which -she wore, the name she had chosen for the simple -reason that once before she had chanced to take it -up and use it, brought brightly into mind a long-ago -forest glade and a happening there. But she -did not link that autumn day with the man lying -wrapped in Elias of Montaudon’s cloak, though she -did link it with Jaufre de Montmaure who had -kindled those fires in the night. It came, a vivid picture, -and then it slept again. There was, of need, a -preoccupation with this present enterprise and its -chaplet, necklace, girdle, and anklets of danger, no -less than with its bud of promise which she meant, if -possible, to make bloom. Her own great need and -the need of Roche-de-Frêne formed the looming presence, -high, wide, and deep as the night, but, playing -and interblending with it, high, wide, and deep as -the day, was another sense.... She gazed upon -Garin of the Golden Island lying wrapped in the -jongleur’s cloak, and the loss of him was in the -looming night, and the gain in the bud of promise -and the feeling of the sun. To-night, her estate -seemed forlorn enough, but within she was a powerful -princess who did not blink her own desires though -she was wise to curb and rein and drive them rightly.</p> - -<hr class="chap" /> - -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_295" id="Page_295">[295]</a></span></p> - -<div class="chapter"> - -<h2 class="p4"><a name="c295" id="c295">CHAPTER XXII</a></h2> - -<p class="pch">THE SAFFRON CROSS</p> - -<p class="pn"><span class="smcap">Moon</span> and stars began to pale. The camp-followers -up the stream had poultry with them, for from that -direction a cock crew and was answered. The herd-girl -waked the jongleur. “I have black bread in my -scrip,” she said. “Look if you have not the same.”</p> - -<p>He found a portion of a loaf; they sat by the brook -Saint Laurent and he cut the bread with his dagger -and they ate and drank of the water.</p> - -<p>Light strengthened, it became grey-pearl under -the pines. “Chill! chill!” said the herd-girl. “Often -I think of how it would be to lie out under the sky, -winter, spring, summer and now! So many thousands -do.—Now, we will be going.”</p> - -<p>They moved along the bank of the stream. “We -go north,” said Garin’s mind. “Will she go to the -King at Paris?” But he waited without question -until she was ready to say. Jongleur and herd-girl, -they walked through the grey and dewy world. The -trees now stood further apart, they were coming to -open ground. To their right the east showed stripes -of carnation. The cocks crew again; the mutter -and murmur of the night suddenly took height and -depth, became inarticulate clamour of the day and -an encamped, huge host. The light strengthened.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_296" id="Page_296">[296]</a></span> -Between the stems of trees they saw, at no great distance, -huts and booths of autumn branches. They -stood still for a little in the flush of the brightening -dawn—divers regarding the sea into which they -were to plunge, the sea whose every wave was inimical. -They looked, then, each turning a little, their -eyes met. It was but for a moment; immediately -they went forward.</p> - -<p>Elias of Montaudon was all dusk and green of -garb, and dusk of brow and cheek. But his dagger -hung in a gilt sheath and his lute by a red ribbon, -and his eyes were grey with glints of blue. Jael the -herd, too, was hued like a Martinmas leaf, and her -hair hung over her bosom and to her knee, in long, -dusk braids. The jongleur had a vision of dark hair -loosened and spread in elf-lock and wave, half hiding -a face more girlish than this face, but as this face -might have been, eight years agone. Impossibilities—dreams, -phantasies, magic somewhere, impossibilities!</p> - -<p>They were now almost clear of the broken ground -and the remnant of wood. They looked back and -saw Roche-de-Frêne lifted against the solemn sky; -stood still and for a minute or more gazed, and as -though the walls were glass, viewed the tense life -within.</p> - -<p>“Did you ever see Richard of Aquitaine?” asked -the herd-girl.</p> - -<p>“No,” answered the jongleur, and felt a momentary -wonder, then the dawn of a conjecture.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_297" id="Page_297">[297]</a></span></p> - -<p>The herd-girl turned again to their wandering and -he followed her, then walked beside her.... Leaving -the last group of trees, they came with suddenness -upon a little pebbly shore of the stream and -upon half a dozen women, kneeling and beginning -the washing of clothes. Several ragged children sat -by a fire of sticks and made an outcry when the two -came from the wood. The women looked up. “Hè! -a jongleur!” cried one. “Come trill me a love-lay -while I wash my sergeant’s one shirt!”</p> - -<p>Elias and Jael came near, sat by the fire of sticks, -and felt the warmth pleasant. The first drew his -hand across the strings of his lute and sang:—</p> - -<p class="pp6q p1">“Sweet May, come! the lovers’ sweet season.<br /> -In May Love seems the height of reason!<br /> -Try your love when the year grows older,<br /> -The birds depart and the earth is colder.—”</p> - -<p class="p1">He stopped. “Saint Michael! the mist is yet in -my throat. Your fire, gossips, is the sweet, crackling -singer—”</p> - -<p>One of the women sat back upon her heels, and, -hands on hips, regarded the two. “From what -camp are you? You are not of our camp?”</p> - -<p>“No. We have been over yonder—near to the -young count.”</p> - -<p>“If Cap-du-Loup saw you he would have your -lute broken and you sent to wait on fighting men! -Cap-du-Loup loatheth jongleurs and monks! Your -<i>douce</i> there he might take—but no, I think that he<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_298" id="Page_298">[298]</a></span> -would not. She is not fair, and she has the look of -one with claws—”</p> - -<p>“I have claws, sister,” said Jael. “But I know -how to keep them sheathed.” She yawned. “This -good fire makes you sleepy. Pretty children, let me -rest my head upon that log for a bit! Play to us, -Elias, if you cannot sing.”</p> - -<p>She put her head down, closed her eyes, lying in the -firelight. The jongleur played and he played strange -quaint airs that made the washerwomen laugh, nod -their heads, and pat with their hands. After this -he played quieter strains, a dreamy and monotonous -music, humming to it a thought of the East. They -listened, then turned to their rubbing and beating of -clothes, working as in a dream, to a soothed and -unquestioning mood.</p> - -<p>Jael sat up, warmed her hands at the fire, looked -to the west. On the other side of the brook of Saint -Laurent a trampling sound arose and grew. The -mist yielded a grey vision of horsemen approaching -in number. They loomed, there ran before them -noise—harsh voices, ribald laughter. The washerwomen -sprang to their feet, gathered hastily into -their arms the scattered garments, seized by the -hands the children.</p> - -<p>“Jacques le Noir and his men! Get out of their -way! Jesu! What a world where your own side -tramples and abuses—”</p> - -<p>They turned up the stream, quarrelling as they -went. With them and the children went the jongleur<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_299" id="Page_299">[299]</a></span> -and the herd-girl, all faring along the bank together, -in the mist that was now being torn by golden -arrows. One of the women, with a load of wet, half-washed -clothing, let fall a part of the burden. The -herd-girl, stooping, gathered it up. “I’ll help you -here, sister!” A child struck its foot against a stone, -fell, and began to cry. The jongleur lifted him to his -shoulder. Behind them they heard Jacques le Noir -splash with his horsemen into the stream. The -washerwomen and the two from Roche-de-Frêne -went on like one family or like old acquaintances, -and so came into the thickly peopled camp of the -followers of Cap-du-Loup and his fighting men.</p> - -<p>The sun was now risen. The pied and various -world in which they found themselves had breakfasted -or was breakfasting. Noise prevailed, self-wrought -into some kind of harmony. Here were -women, soldiers’ and others’ wives, and frank harlots, -and here were children, seraphic, impish, and -all between. Here harboured men of sorts, men who -cared for horses, were smiths, menders of harness -and armour, fitters of lance-heads to lances, fletchers -of arrows. Here were barber-surgeons, cooks, and -servitors of servitors. Sutlers and merchants of -small wares showed both men and women, as did also -the amusement-mongers. There abounded folk of -nondescript and uncertain trades, or of no trades -at all, mere followers and feeders, a true rabble. -And there were gamesters and cunning thieves.</p> - -<p>Elias of Montaudon and Jael the herd came into<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_300" id="Page_300">[300]</a></span> -this throng in the company of the women who had -washed by the brook of Saint Laurent. The air was -yet hung with mist-wreaths; they entered with these -about them, and none took especial notice.</p> - -<p>The washerwomen did not stray from the brook. -Down they flung their half-washed, wet, and dripping -loads, and complained loudly to any who would -listen of Jacques le Noir and his demon band. Some -listened, some did not; the most had recitals of their -own. Voices sprang like grass-blades, were confounded.... With -the others Jael threw upon the -ground her load, Elias set down the child he had -carried. Then in the confusion they went away, -leaving without staying word or hand the group that -had brought them thus far. They followed the brook -Saint Laurent and they passed many folk, buried in -their own concerns. To an eye not observant beyond -a certain point, the two would seem a loitering -couple of the camp, vacant and idly straying, being -set at the moment to no task. None greeted them as -acquaintances—but there seemed here no eye to -note that fact. Units and groups shifted like the bits -of glass in a kaleidoscope. Continually the tube was -shaken and there came up new arrangements. The -two went on, and none saw in them wandering -bodies from outer and hostile space, pursuing a -course athwart the field of the kaleidoscope.... The -mist was gone, the sun poured light; looking back, -they saw Roche-de-Frêne, indeed, but always -farther, farther from them.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_301" id="Page_301">[301]</a></span></p> - -<p>They approached the edge of the camp-followers’ -demesne. It frayed out among trees and gullies -and heaps of refuse. Presently came a strip of bare -earth, recently burned over, licked clean by the -flame, and desert of human works or being. Beyond, -flung widely, grey reefs across their way, were soldiers’ -tents. Jael the herd’s lips moved. “Come -down, for a minute, into this hollow where none will -see.”</p> - -<p>Descending a miniature slope, they stood in a -narrow space between walls of parched earth. The -camp behind them, the camp before them, sank abruptly -from view, though the sound of each remained. -Roche-de-Frêne sank from view; they were -roofed by the blue sky. A lizard ran from stone to -stone; a wind, circling the place, lifted into air dead -leaves and particles of earth. The herd-girl, seating -herself, opened the scrip that she carried. The jongleur -watched her take from it something at which -he started. It was a piece of saffron-coloured cloth, -cut in the shape of a cross. The upright measured -near two feet, it and the arms had a palm’s breadth. -The next thing that she did was to find a needle and -thread; then she took her frieze mantle, and after -an instant of looking into the pure, deep heavens, -began to fasten upon the mantle the saffron cross.</p> - -<p>Garin held his breath. Holy Church had many -penances for erring souls, and the most were acquiesced -in with the least possible inner pain, and -some were dreaded, and a few were direfully dreaded,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_302" id="Page_302">[302]</a></span> -shudderingly looked upon. The most were burdensome -but matter-of-fact; some gave the weak flesh -sharp pain, but did not necessarily humble one in -the eyes of the world and the neighbours. A certain -number had for label, <i>Humiliation</i>, and they were -dreaded. A few were more sinister than these, -frightening the imagination. One or two brought -a dark terror, dark and cold. These did not partake -of the nature of prostrations, or of prayers in multiplied -repetition, or of flagellations, or pilgrimages, -or amercement of goods. Flagellation was of temporary -account; pilgrimages a way to see the world as -well as to wipe out sin; loss in money and land a serious -thing, God knew! but though bitter, without -ignominy. None of these came under the same sky -with excommunication, which was not penance, but -doom and living death! But to wear a cross like -this came under the same sky.</p> - -<p>It carried no physical pain with it, nor imprisonment -within material walls. Of itself, it did not dip -into the purse, or shear away house and land. Of -itself, it did not say, “Leave your home, penitent, -and wander to many a shrine, know many calvaries!” -Incidentally it might have come after—most often -it did come after—these lesser things. It was -rarely bound, like the mark of Cain, upon the young -in offending. It came somewhat rarely upon any -but the poor. So long as there was any wealth there -might be compounding for something less than the -millstone.... It was not likely to be imposed for<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_303" id="Page_303">[303]</a></span> -any less time than a long, long while. Perhaps it was -worn for years, perhaps they died wearing it. It -weighed hardly anything materially, but it weighed -life down. The people regarded it with superstitious -horror. It said, “Lo, shadow and substance of sin -that may hardly be pardoned! Lo, here the Obdurate, -the Ancient and Resigned to the Prince of the -Power of the Air—preserved that ye may see—set -aside in the midst of you that ye may know! Not -to be touched, not to be dealt with in pleasant, -human ways—any more than a leper!”</p> - -<p>Garin looked. His face had paled beneath the -stain applied by the true Elias. “Ah!” he said, -“what people of the future comes, my Lady Audiart, -from such as you!”</p> - -<p>The other stood up, her sewing finished. She drew -the cloak over her shoulders, and her right arm and -side showed the saffron cross. Her dark eyes met -Garin’s. “Now you are my brother. We are twin, -and Saint Peter himself would not have you utterly -forsake me! Let us go.”</p> - -<p>They came out from the crack in the earth and -proceeded to cross the burned strip. All in all, they -had now penetrated some distance in the dragon’s -field. When they looked over their shoulder, Roche-de-Frêne -yet showed with grandeur in the morning -light, against the south-east quarter of a fleckless -sky. But it showed as somewhat distant.... Garin -understood now that they were to cross the dragon’s -field, to leave it behind them, to escape as quickly<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_304" id="Page_304">[304]</a></span> -as might be from its poisonous breath, from the reach -of its talons. He saw also that, danger-grown as was -their path of travel, it was the least so that should -have been taken from the beleaguered place. The -dragon lay here, too, but not, perhaps, the brain nor -eyes of him.</p> - -<p>The day shone bright and cool. Directly ahead -a large campfire yet smoked and smouldered, and -right and left of it and beyond grew the somewhat -tattered tents of Cap-du-Loup’s force. In the assault, -on the way to the assault, Cap-du-Loup drove -his men like a storm. At other times he let them -live as they would.</p> - -<p>There were Free Companions, a score or so, -around the fire. These caught sight of the two upon -the burned and blackened strip between them and -the followers’ camp. There was passage to and fro, -as the gods of license knew! Many figures of the -world strayed almost at will, found lanes enough -through the loose warp of the time’s armies. A -woman and a jongleur might find a groove, so easy, -so worn—There were, however, toll-gates.</p> - -<p>Men who had been lying on the ground sat up. -“Come across! Come across!” called one. Another -rose to his feet and went to touch first, so claim first. -A third sprang up, ran after, but a young giant, -starting fourth, outstripped him, gained on the first. -The men had been idle after a night’s sleep. Breakfast -of goat’s flesh and bread was digested, the slight -enough camp tasks disposed of, after which came<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_305" id="Page_305">[305]</a></span> -idleness and yawning. Cap-du-Loup meant to join -Aimeric the Bastard in a night attack upon Roche-de-Frêne’s -western gate, and until then the storm -slept. The Free Companions were ready for movement, -enterprise, deviltry. They rose from the ashy -fire, and finding pleasure in stretching of the limbs, -raced after their fellows. The distance was a pygmy -one; immediately they were at their goal—the -giant just the first.</p> - -<p>He put his hands upon the woman. “Come, my -<i>mie</i>—come, my jewel!” The one who had started -first began to clamour that he was first; there arose -a noise as from any brute pack. The giant, dragged -at by his fellows, half turned, turning with him her -he grasped. The saffron cross came into view.</p> - -<p>The Free Companion’s hands dropped. He, and -every man as he saw it, gave back. The recoil left -black earth between them and Jael and Elias. Quarrelling -and laughter alike sank. Here was neither -wooing nor taking, but a hand stole down, picked up -a stone and threw it. It struck her, then she spoke. -“Leave to the cross them who wear it, brave soldiers!”</p> - -<p>The giant came from a hamlet that tilled Abbey -fields, and he was wise beyond his fellows in what the -Church said. Moreover he was by nature unresistant -to Authority. It was not he who had thrown the -stone, and now he struck down the arm of one who -gathered a second missile. “Abbot Arnaut told us -we mustn’t ever do that! If you do, God the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_306" id="Page_306">[306]</a></span> -Father’ll lengthen your score—burn you a year -longer in Purgatory!”</p> - -<p>“It’s the serpent of sin.—Naught’s doing but -stoning!”</p> - -<p>“You can’t strike man or woman when they’ve -touched sanctuary! Yellow cross’s a kind of sanctuary—”</p> - -<p>The giant found some upon his side. “That’s -true! Father Andrew preached a sermon about it, -Saint John Baptist’s day!—You don’t break into -a house marked for plague. Holy Church says, -‘This cross’s my seal. I punish, and don’t you be -trying to better it!’”</p> - -<p>“That’s true! Holy Church says, ‘Have no communion, -for good or for ill! Here is something fearful -and not like it was mortal!’”</p> - -<p>The black earth widened about Jael and Elias. -“What is the man doing with her?” cried the first -runner.</p> - -<p>Another yet more reckless lifted voice. “Is a -jongleur to be a heathen and we can’t? Is he to give -the dare to a Free Companion?”</p> - -<p>Despite the giant and those backing him, the -pack came nearer, narrowing the black mark. Garin -spoke. He was accustomed to lead and command -men, fusing their will with his. Use gave him power -here also, though they that he faced knew not what -it was. And he had other powers over men and himself. -He spoke. “Good soldiers! I am her brother, -twin with her, and I had a vision that I was not<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_307" id="Page_307">[307]</a></span> -utterly to forsake her. The priest said that I was to -mind it.” He brought his lute forward, and as he -spoke he drew from the strings notes of wistfulness -and beauty. “So we started many months ago, on -a pilgrimage from Pont-de-Lys in Limousin (for we -are of Limousin) to Our Lady of Roche-de-Frêne. -And after that we fared on a long way to the north, -to the famous shrine of Saint Thomas in Burgundy.” -He was playing very sweetly, notes of unearthly -tenderness and melancholy. “There the vision came -again and told me to return the way we had come to -Limousin, and then, without rest, to go on pilgrimage -to Saint James, the brother of the Lord, at Compostella.”</p> - -<p>He changed and deepened the strain until it had -solemnity, became music played in churches. “She -speaks not often to me, nor I to her. She touches -me not, and I touch not her. But the vision said, -‘Go with her to Our Lady of Roche-de-Frêne, and -then to the shrine of Saint Thomas’; and then it -said, ‘Turn and go with her to Compostella.’ The -priest said, ‘Obey that which spoke to you, and It -will see that you are not hindered.’” His lips shut. -He had spoken in a voice that he knew how to use -so as to bring the heart into acquiescence, and his -fingers still spoke on, upon the strings of the lute.</p> - -<p>The half-ring parted. It felt horror of the saffron -cross, but, strange to itself, it also now felt pity and -an impulse to help. Its ill passion fell cold and dead. -Sufficiently swift and deep and for sufficiently long<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_308" id="Page_308">[308]</a></span> -time came the change. Whether there was responsible -some saint, or suggestion, or these beings’ -proper motion, here was what answered for miracle. -The giant was the spokesman.</p> - -<p>“The way is clear so far as we are named! Go on, -poor soul, and brother jongleur, and maybe there’s -a star somewhere to shine for you!—Nay, I’ll go -before and see that no man of Cap-du-Loup breaks -sanctuary—no, nor harms you, jongleur!”</p> - -<hr class="chap" /> - -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_309" id="Page_309">[309]</a></span></p> - -<div class="chapter"> - -<h2 class="p4"><a name="c309" id="c309">CHAPTER XXIII</a></h2> - -<p class="pch">CAP-DU-LOUP</p> - -<p class="pn"><span class="smcap">The</span> giant was a Saint Christopher to Jael and Elias. -He was great of height and bulk, feared for his -strength and liked because of a broad simplicity and -good-nature, apparent when he was not angry or -hot in the midst of allowed slaughter and rapine. -For the saffron cross and the jongleur he proved, -this day, the right convoy.</p> - -<p>Cap-du-Loup had two hundred knights and a -thousand fighting men. The knights’ encampment -they did not approach; it lay to the west, neighbouring -the Lord of Chalus’s quarter. But they went -by, they went between, the tents and booths of the -thousand men.</p> - -<p>These shouted to them, these stopped them, these -ran from farther tents. “Game! Game!” Cap-du-Loup’s -men cried. “Leveret! leveret! leveret!”—then -saw the cross that the woman wore. It was a -weapon to halt snatching hands, a spell to wither the -lust in men’s eyes. And when the heat turned to -cold, and where, as twice again happened, another -zeal sprang up and there threatened stoning, came -in the giant’s voice and arm, making room for the -jongleur’s voice and hand upon the strings.... -Thrice-guarded, the two from Roche-de-Frêne<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_310" id="Page_310">[310]</a></span> -threaded the camp of Cap-du-Loup. It was noon -now, and autumn sunshine thick about them. In -broad day they passed the folds of the dragon, and -then by a ruined house, cold and vacant as clay, -they met with suddenness Cap-du-Loup.</p> - -<p>The giant was afraid. “Little Mother of God, -take care of us!” he said and caught his breath.</p> - -<p>Cap-du-Loup was neither tall nor stout of build; -he was rusty-red and small, but he could fright -the giant, hold him knock-kneed. “What are you -doing, Jean le Géant, wandering with hellfroth such -as these?”</p> - -<p>Jean le Géant answered like a child, telling all the -why and wherefore.</p> - -<p>“Begone where you kennel!” said Cap-du-Loup, -when he had made an end. “You two, who came -from Burgundy, what talk is made there of this -war?”</p> - -<p>He sat on a stone in the noon light, behind him a -black and broken wall, and questioned the jongleur. -He had looked once at the figure wrapped in frieze -whereon was sewed a saffron cross. The woman -seemed young, but the mantle was hooded, and that -and the black hair astream about her face—She -appeared dark as a Saracen and without beauty, and -the cross did put a ring about her and a pale, cold -light ... Cap-du-Loup, who came from Burgundy,—though -that had never interfered with the sale of -his services to any high-bidding foe of Burgundy,—turned -to the jongleur. “What talk is there?”</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_311" id="Page_311">[311]</a></span></p> - -<p>“Lord, as you know, the barons there have wars -of their own! But I played upon a time in a hall -where afterwards I listened to the talk of knights. -It seemed to me that they inclined to Roche-de-Frêne. -But what do I know?”</p> - -<p>“Did any speak of me?”</p> - -<p>“Lord, one was talking with a great merchant of -Italy who was present. He said, ‘There is a bold -captain of Burgundy, Gaultier Cap-du-Loup, with -Montmaure. He had been wiser, methinks, to have -taken his sword to Roche-de-Frêne! If Aquitaine -drops off—’”</p> - -<p>“Wait there!” cried Cap-du-Loup. “What colour -did they give for Aquitaine ceasing from us?”</p> - -<p>“None, lord, that I heard. I heard no more,” said -Elias, “for I went out in the night to give my sister -bread.”</p> - -<p>“Jean the foolish giant has said that you went -first from Limousin to Our Lady of Roche-de-Frêne. -When were you in Roche-de-Frêne?”</p> - -<p>“Lord, at Pentecost, before the siege began.”</p> - -<p>“What did you think, jongleur, of that town and -castle?”</p> - -<p>Cap-du-Loup looked at what he spoke of, lifted -before them, shimmering in the light. Montmaure -was attacking at the eastern gate. A noise as of dull -thunder rolled over the plain.</p> - -<p>“Lord,” said the jongleur, “there are fellows of -my art, who, to please, would say ‘a poor town and -a trembling castle!’ But I think that you are not<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_312" id="Page_312">[312]</a></span> -such an one, but a man who greets with valiancy -bare truth! To my apprehension, lord, it seemed a -great town and a strong castle.”</p> - -<p>“It is God’s truth!” said Cap-du-Loup, who for -two months had received no pay for himself nor for -his men. “At Pentecost the old prince yet lived. -Saw you Audiart?”</p> - -<p>“Lord, it was said that she was at mass one day -when we stood without the church. When ladies -and knights came forth some one cried, ‘Audiart!’ -and I saw her, as it were among clouds.”</p> - -<p>“They say that she pays well and steadily.—Holy -Virgin!” said Cap-du-Loup, “I would that -Count Jaufre, who is to be her lord and husband, -would take ensample!”</p> - -<p>He spoke in a barking tone, and grew redder and -fiercer. His small eyes without lashes looked at -Elias of Montaudon as though he had suddenly remembered -to call one to break the lute of the <i>fainéant</i> -and cudgel him deep into the camp to wait on men -who fought! But perhaps the jongleur’s remembering -the words “bold captain of Burgundy,” or his -knowing character and that Cap-du-Loup was not -afraid of false or true, saved lute and shoulders. -Perhaps it was something else, wolves being softened -long ago by Orpheus. Or the giant’s stammered -explanation before, frightened, he went away, may -have worked, or the pale, cold light about the woman -have touched, to Cap-du-Loup’s perception, her -brother also. Perhaps it was something of all of<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_313" id="Page_313">[313]</a></span> -these. However that may be, Cap-du-Loup stared -at Roche-de-Frêne against the sky, and, not for the -first time of late, thought to himself that, all things -being equal and Montmaure less strong by certain -divisions than was the case, then a man would be a -fool to come into his service rather than into that of -the banner yonder! Then he somewhat lost himself, -listening to Count Jaufre’s battering the town’s -eastern gate.</p> - -<p>Jael and Elias, standing in the shadow of the -ruined house, listened, too, and with the eye of the -mind saw the attack and the defenders....</p> - -<p>Cap-du-Loup rose from his stone, spoke to the -jongleur. “If I have passed you, all shall pass you. -If they stop you, tell them to come speak with Cap-du-Loup!” -With that, and with a wolf-like suddenness, -both fierce and stealthy, he was gone.</p> - -<p>Jael and Elias, in the shadow of the black wall, -saw him one moment, then a cairn-like heap of stones -came between.... It was after the noon hour; -though it was late autumn the southern land blazed -light. Into their ears came the rhythmic dash and -recoil of the distant conflict, came, too, the nearer -buzz and hum, the sharp, discrete noises of the encampment -whose edge they had gained. They saw -that they were upon its edge, and that before them -lay a road less crowded. This they took. At first -men were about them, but these had seen them with -Cap-du-Loup and disturbed them not. A trumpet -blew and a drum was beat, and the Free Companions<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_314" id="Page_314">[314]</a></span> -hurried to the sound. The two quickened their -steps; they took advantage; before the diversion of -vision and attention was ended, they were clear of -the camp of Gaultier Cap-du-Loup.</p> - -<p>Right and left lay the host of Montmaure, but -ahead was rough, sharp, and broken ground, where -horsemen might not manage their horses and disliked -by men without steeds. Here was a bend of -the brook Saint Laurent, and ground stony and -sterile or ashen and burned over. The dragon possessed -the wide plain; he drew water from the stream -where he wished it, but for the rest left unoccupied -this northward-drawn rough splinter of the world.... The -two saw an outpost, a sentinel camp, but -it was intent upon the crescendo of battle-sound -pouring from Roche-de-Frêne, and upon what -might be the meaning of Cap-du-Loup’s calling -trumpets. Jael and Elias slipped by, in the dry sunshine, -beneath the brow of a hill, like a brace of -tinted, wind-blown leaves.</p> - -<p>After this they came into a solitude. It had not -been always so, for here the rough ground fell away, -Saint Laurent bent his stream like a sickle, and once -had been bright fields and graceful vineyards. Here -had stood many small houses of peasants who had -tilled their fields, tended their vineyards, brought -the produce and sold it to Roche-de-Frêne, trudging -through life, often in the shadow and often -in the sun. Now death only lived and abode and, -black-winged, visited the fields. All things were<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_315" id="Page_315">[315]</a></span> -cut down, charred, and withered. The people were -gone, and where had been houses stood ruins.</p> - -<p>The herd-girl sighed as she walked. Once the -jongleur saw her weeping.</p> - -<p>It lasted a long way, this black swath beneath -the sun. It led them out of the dragon’s immediate -field, away from his mailed and glittering coils. -The dragon lay well behind them, his eyes upon -Roche-de-Frêne. Roche-de-Frêne itself, now, was -distant.</p> - -<p>But the venom of the dragon had been spread -wherever his length had passed. Not alone here, -by the brook Saint Laurent, but all around now, as -far as the eye could see, stretched blackening and -desolation. All was overcovered with the writing of -war. The princess of the land had ceased to weep. -She viewed ruin with the face of a sibyl.</p> - -<p>In the mid-afternoon they came upon knights -resting by a great stone, in a ring of trees with russet -leaves. These hailed the jongleur and the woman -with him—when they saw what manner of penitent -was the latter they crossed themselves and let -her stay without the ring, seated among stones some -distance from it. But they and their squires listened -to Garin’s singing.</p> - -<p>He sang for them a many songs, for when one was -done they clamoured for another. Then they gave -him largesse, and would have constrained him to -turn and go with them to the host of Montmaure, -where would be employment enough, since Count<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_316" id="Page_316">[316]</a></span> -Jaufre nor no one else had many jongleurs of such -voice and skill! Though they knew it not, voice and -skill served him again when he turned them from -constraining to agreement to let him go his way, on -pilgrimage with her who sat among the stones. They -made him sing again, and then, as all rested, they -asked questions as to the host through which he had -come. He knew, from this dropped word and that, -that they were knights of Aquitaine, riding to join -that same Jaufre.</p> - -<p>With their squires they numbered but twelve in -all. Food and wine were taken from the lading of a -sumpter mule and placed upon the ground. They -gave the jongleur a generous portion, consented to -his bearing to the penitent of the cross, the Unfortunate -his sister, portion of his portion. Returned, -he asked of one of the squires with whom he ate, -where was Duke Richard? He was at Excideuil.</p> - -<p>“They say,” said the jongleur, “that he and -Count Jaufre laugh and sigh in the same moment.”</p> - -<p>“It was once so,” answered the squire and drank -wine.</p> - -<p>“Is’t not so now?”</p> - -<p>The other put down the wine cup. “Did you -make poesy, jongleur, as well as you sing it, I could -give you subjects! Songs of Absence, now. Songs -of a subtile vapour called Difference, that while you -turn your head becomes thick and hard!—Perhaps -they think that they yet laugh and sigh in the same -moment.”</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_317" id="Page_317">[317]</a></span></p> - -<p>“One must be near a man to see the colour of his -soul.”</p> - -<p>“Aye, so!—The knight I serve—him with the -grey in his beard—is of Richard’s household.”</p> - -<p>“I have sung in this court and sung in that,” said -Elias of Montaudon, “but chances it so that never -I saw Duke Richard!”</p> - -<p>“He paints leopards on his shield—they call him -Lion-Heart—he is good at loving, good at hating—he -means to do well and highly—but the passions -of men are legion.”</p> - -<p>“I stake all,” said the jongleur, “on his being a -nobler knight than is Count Jaufre!”</p> - -<p>“My gold with yours, brother,” answered the -squire, and poured more wine.</p> - -<p>“And he is at Excideuil?”</p> - -<p>“At Excideuil. He builds a great castle there, but -his heart builds at going overseas and saving again -the Holy Sepulchre!”</p> - -<p>There was a silence. “He can then,” said Elias of -Montaudon, “be sought through the imagination.”</p> - -<p>“I know not wholly what you mean by that,” -said the squire. “But when he was made knight and -watched his armour, he watched, with other matters, -some sort of generosity.”</p> - -<p>The sun poured slanting rays, making the world -ruddy. The knights, having rested and refreshed -themselves, would get to horse, press on so as to -reach the host before curfew. The ring beneath the -tinted trees broke. The squires hastened, brought<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_318" id="Page_318">[318]</a></span> -the horses from the deeper wood. All mounted, -turned toward the south and Montmaure.</p> - -<p>“Farewell, Master Jongleur, Golden-Voice!” -cried the eldest knight. “Come one day to the -castles of Aquitaine!” Another flung him silver -further than had yet been given.—They were gone. -Almost instantly they must round a hill—the sight -of them failed, the earth between smothered the -sound of their horses’ going, and of their own voices. -Ere the sun dipped the solitude was again solitude.</p> - -<p>Garin joined the princess where she sat among the -stones. She sat with her chin in her hands, watching -the great orb and all the scape of clouds. “Did they -tell you where Richard is to be found?”</p> - -<p>“He is to be found at Excideuil. I spoke with a -seeing man, and this is what he said.”</p> - -<p>He repeated what had been said.</p> - -<p>“So!” said the princess. “Let us be going.”</p> - -<p>They walked until the red dusk had given way to -brown dusk and darkness was close at hand. She -spoke only once, and then she said, “You also are -a seeing man, Elias the Jongleur!”</p> - -<p>A ruined wayside shrine appeared before them, -topping a hill, clear against the pale, cold, remote -purples and greens of the west. Their path mounted -to it; they found all about it quiet and lonely. They -talked until the sky was filled with stars, then they -wrapped themselves in their mantles and slept, -stretched upon the yet warm earth.</p> - -<hr class="chap" /> - -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_319" id="Page_319">[319]</a></span></p> - -<div class="chapter"> - -<h2 class="p4"><a name="c319" id="c319">CHAPTER XXIV</a></h2> - -<p class="pch">THE ABBEY OF THE FOUNTAIN</p> - -<p class="pn"><span class="smcap">Morning</span> broke. They rose and travelled on. This -day they passed definitely from the dragon’s present -reach, though yet they were in lands of Roche-de-Frêne, -done into ruin by him, poisoned by his breath. -Adventures they had, perils and escapes. These -were approached, endured, passed. At night they -came to a hermit’s cell where was no hermit, but on -a stone hearth wood ready for firing. They closed -the door, struck flint and steel, had presently a flame -that reddened the low and narrow walls and gave -the two, tired and cold, much comfort. The hermit’s -cupboard was found, and in it dried fruit and pease -and a pan or two for cooking. Without the cell was -water, a bubbling spring among moss and fern.</p> - -<p>The night was dark and windy. None came to -strike upon the hermit’s door, no human voice broke -in upon them. The wind shook the forest behind the -cell and scoured the valley in front. It whistled -around their narrow refuge, it brought at intervals -a dash of rain against door and wall. But the two -within were warmed and fed, and they found an -ocean-music in the night. It rocked them in their -dreams, it soothed like a lullaby. The princess -dreamed of her father, and that they were reading<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_320" id="Page_320">[320]</a></span> -together in a book; then that changed, and it was -her old, old nurse, who told her tales of elves and -fays. Garin dreamed of the desert and then of the -sea. Dawn came. They rekindled their fire and had -spare breakfast, then fared forth through a high -and stormy world.</p> - -<p>Night came, day came, nights and days, beads of -light and its doings, beads of dimness and rest. They -kept no list of the dangers they entered and left, of -the incidents and episodes of peril. They were many, -but the two went through like a singing shaft, like -a shuttle driven by the hand of Genius. Now they -were forth from the invaded princedom, now they -were gone from fiefs of other suzerains. Where -they had faced north, now they walked with the -westering sun.</p> - -<p>When that happened, Jael the herd wore no longer -the saffron cross. It had served the purpose, carrying -her through Montmaure’s host, that else might -not have let a woman pass.... The two had slept -upon leaves in an angle of a stone wall, on the edge -of a coppice. The wall ran by fields unharmed by -war; they were out from the shadow. A dawn came -up and unfolded like a rose of glory. The coppice -seemed to sleep, the air was so still. The night had -been dry, and for the season, warm. Cocks crew in -the distance, birds that stayed out the year cheeped -in the trees.</p> - -<p>The herd-girl took her frieze mantle, and, sitting -upon a stone, broke the threads that bound to it the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_321" id="Page_321">[321]</a></span> -Church’s stigma and seal. The jongleur watched her -from where he leaned against the wall. When it -was free from the mantle, she took the shaped piece -of saffron-dyed cloth and moving from the stone -kneeled beside their fire of sticks and gave it to the -flame. She watched it consume, then stood up. “It -served me,” she said. “I know not if it ever served -any upon whom it was truly chained. As I read the -story, He who was nailed to the cross had a spirit -strong and merciful. It is the spirits who are strong -that are merciful.”</p> - -<p>The rose in the east grew in glory. Colour came -into the land, into the coppice, and to the small vines -and ferns in their niches and shrines between the -stones. Garin of the Golden Island stood in green -and brown, beside him the red-ribboned lute. “As -the first day from Roche-de-Frêne, so now again,” -said Audiart, “you are the jongleur, Elias of Montaudon. -I am your <i>mie</i>, Jael the herd.”</p> - -<p>“Your will is mine, Jael the herd,” said Garin.</p> - -<p>He bent and extinguished the fire of sticks. The -two went on together, the sun behind them.... -Once Vulcan had had a stithy in this country. -Masses of dark rock were everywhere, old, cooled -lava, dark hills, mountains and peaks. Chestnut and -oak ran up the mountain-sides, the valleys lay -sunken, there was a silver net of streams. Hamlets -hid beneath hills, village and middling town -climbed their sides, castles crowned the heights, in -vales by the rivers sat the monasteries. The region<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_322" id="Page_322">[322]</a></span> -was divided between smiling and frowning. Its allegiance -was owed to a lord of storms, who, in his -nature, showed now and then a broad golden beam. -At present no wild beast from without entered the -region to ravage; there it smiled secure. But Duke -Richard drained it of money and men; its own kept -it poor. He drained all his vast duchy and fiefs of his -duchy, as his brothers drained their lands and his -father drained England. They were driving storms -and waters that whirled and drew; one only was the -stagnant kind that sat and brewed poison. This -region was a corner of the great duke’s wide lands, -but the duke helped himself from its purse, and the -larger number of its men were gone to his wars.</p> - -<p>But for all that, the jongleur and the herd-girl -met a many people and saw towns that to them from -Roche-de-Frêne seemed at ease, relaxed, and light -of heart. Baron and knight and squire and man -were gone to the wars, but baron and knight and -squire and man, for this reason, for that reason, remained. -Castle drawbridges rested down, portcullises -rusted unlowered. The roads, bad though they -were, had peaceful traffic; the fields had been harvested, -and the harvest had not gone to feed another -world. The folk that remained were not the fiercer -sort, and they longed for amusement. It rested not -cold, and folk were out of doors. The country-side, -mountain and hill and valley, hung softened, stilled, -wrapped in a haze of purple-grey.</p> - -<p>Jongleur’s art, human voice at its richest, sweetest,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_323" id="Page_323">[323]</a></span> -most expressive—such was wanted wherever -now they went. They had jongleur’s freedom in -a singing time. Travelling on, they made pause -when they were called upon. The jongleur sang the -heart out of the breast, the water into the eyes, high -thoughts and resolves into the upper rooms of the -nature. The dark-eyed, still girl, his companion and -<i>mie</i>, sat on doorstep, or amid the sere growth of -the wayside, or stood in castle hall or court, or in the -market-place of towns, and listened with the rest to -the singing voice and the song that it uttered. The -few about them, or the many about them, sighed -with delight, gave pay as they were able, and always -would have had the jongleur stay, sing on the -morrow, and the morrow’s morrow. But jongleurs -had license to wander, and no restlessness of theirs -surprised. Day by day the two were able, after -short delays, to take the road again.</p> - -<p>They came to Excideuil.</p> - -<p>“Is the duke here?”</p> - -<p>“No. He was here, but he has gone to Angoulême.”</p> - -<p>Elias of Montaudon brought that news to Jael the -herd. She listened with a steady face. “Very well! -In ways, that suits me better. There are those at -Angoulême whom I know.”</p> - -<p>The jongleur sang in the market-place of Excideuil. -“Ah, ah!” cried many, “you should have -been here when our duke was here! He had a day -when there sang six troubadours, and the prize was<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_324" id="Page_324">[324]</a></span> -a cup of gold! And yet no troubadour sang so well -as you sing, jongleur!”</p> - -<p>A week later, crown of a hill before them, they -saw Angoulême. The morning light had shown frost -over the fields, but now the sun melted that silver -film and the day was a sapphire. Wall and battlement, -churches, castle, brilliant and spear-like, stood -out from the blue dome: beneath spread a clear -valley and clear streams. Other heights had lesser -castles, and the valley had houses of the poor. Travel -upon the road thickened, grew more various, spiced -with every class and occupation. The day carried -sound easily, and there was more sound to carry. -Contacts became frequent, and these were now with -people affected, in greater or less degree, by the -sojourn in Angoulême of Duke Richard. The air -knew his presence; where he came was tension, -energy held in a circumference. From the two that -entered Angoulême spread another circle. Garin -felt power and will in her whom he walked beside, -felt attention. The force within him rose to meet -hers and they made one.</p> - -<p>The town grew larger before them, walls and -towers against the sky.</p> - -<p>“Ask some one,” said Audiart, “where is the -Abbey of the Fountain?”</p> - -<p>He asked.</p> - -<p>“The Abbey of the Fountain?” answered the -man whom he addressed. “It lies the other side -of the hill. Go through the town and out at the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_325" id="Page_325">[325]</a></span> -west gate, and you will see it below you, among -trees.”</p> - -<p>They climbed the hill and entered Angoulême, -thronged with life. To the two who kept the picture -of Roche-de-Frêne, wrapped in clouds of storm -and disaster, Angoulême might appear clad like a -peacock, untroubled as a holiday child. Yet was -there here—and they divined that, too—grumbling -and soreness, just anger against Richard the -proud, coupled with half-bitter admiration. Here -was wide conflict of opinion and mood. Life pulsed -strongly in Angoulême.</p> - -<p>Jongleur and herd-girl threaded the town, where -were many jongleurs, and many women with them -lacking church’s link. They regarded the castle, and -the Leopard banner above it. “Richard, Richard!” -said the herd-girl, “I hope that a manner of things -are true that I have heard of you!”</p> - -<p>They came to the west gate and left the town by -it. Immediately, when they were without the walls, -they saw in the vale beneath groves of now leafless -trees and, surrounded by these, the Abbey of the -Fountain. Jael the herd stood still, gazing upon it. -“I had a friend—one whom I liked well, and who -liked me. Now she is abbess here—the Abbess -Madeleine! Let us go down to the Abbey of the -Fountain, and see what we shall see.”</p> - -<p>They went down to the vale. Great trees stretched -their arms above them. A stream ran diamonds and -made music as it went. Now there came to Garin<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_326" id="Page_326">[326]</a></span> -the deep sense of having done this thing before—of -having gone with the Princess Audiart to a great -house of nuns—though surely she was not then the -Princess Audiart.... He ceased to struggle; earthly -impossibilities seemed to dissolve in a deeper knowledge. -He laid down bewilderment and the beating -to and fro of thought; in a larger world thus and so -must be true.</p> - -<p>Passing through a gate in a wall, they were on -Abbey land, nor was it long before they were at the -Abbey portal. Beggars and piteous folk were there -before them, and a nun giving bread to these through -the square in the door. Garin and Audiart stood -aside, waiting their turn. She gazed upon him, he -upon her.</p> - -<p>“Came you ever to a place like this,” she breathed, -“in green and brown before?”</p> - -<p>“I think that it is so, Jael the herd.”</p> - -<p>“A squire in brown and green?”</p> - -<p>He nodded, “Yes.”</p> - -<p>Jael the herd put her hand over her eyes. “Truth -my light! but our life is deep!”</p> - -<p>The mendicants left the portal. The slide closed, -making the door solid.</p> - -<p>“Wait here,” said the herd-girl. “I will go knock. -Wait here until you are called.”</p> - -<p>She knocked, and the panel slid back. He heard -her speaking to the sister and the latter answering. -Then she spoke again, and, after a moment -of hesitation, the door was opened. She entered; it<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_327" id="Page_327">[327]</a></span> -closed after her. He sat down on a stone bench -beside the portal and watched the lacework of -branches, great and small, over the blue. A cripple -with a basket of fruit sat beside him and began to -talk of jongleurs he had heard, and then of the -times, which he said were hard. With his lameness, -something in him brought Foulque to Garin’s mind. -“Oh, ay!” said the cripple, “kings and dukes make -work, but dull work that you die by and not live by! -The court will buy my grapes, but—” He shrugged, -then whistled and stretched in the sun.</p> - -<p>“How stands Duke Richard in your eye?”</p> - -<p>The cripple offered him a bunch of grapes. -“Know you aught that could not be better, or that -could not be worse?”</p> - -<p>“Well answered!” said Garin. “I have interest in -knowing how high at times can leap the better.”</p> - -<p>“Higher than the court fool thinks,” said the -cripple. He sat a little longer, then took his crutch -and his basket of fruit and hobbled away toward the -town.</p> - -<p>Garin waited, musing. An hour passed, two hours, -then the panel in the door slid back. A voice spoke, -“Jongleur, you are to enter.”</p> - -<p>The door opened. He passed through, when it -closed behind him. The sister slipped before, grey -and soundless as a moth, and led him over stone -flooring and between stone walls, out of the widened -space by the Abbey door, through a corridor that -echoed to his footfall, subdue his footfall as he<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_328" id="Page_328">[328]</a></span> -might. This ended before a door set in an arch. The -grey figure knocked; a woman’s voice within answered -in Latin. The sister pushed the door open, -stood aside, and he entered.</p> - -<p>This, he knew at once, was the abbess’s room, -then saw the Abbess Madeleine herself, and, sitting -beside her, that one whose companion he had been -for days and weeks. The herd-girl’s worn dress was -still upon her, but she sat there, he saw, as the Princess -of Roche-de-Frêne, as the friend, long-missed, -of the pale Abbess. He made his reverence to the -two.</p> - -<p>The Abbess Madeleine spoke in a voice of a silvery -tone, mellowing here and there into gold and kindness. -“Sir Knight, you are welcome! I have heard -a wondrous story, and God gave you a noble part to -play.—Now will speak your liege, the princess.”</p> - -<p>“Sir Garin de Castel-Noir,” said Audiart, “in -Angoulême lodges a great lord and valiant knight, -Count of Beauvoisin, a kinsman of the most Reverend -Mother. She has written to him, to my great -aiding. Take the letter, find him out, and give it to -him, your hand into his. He will place you in his -train, clothe you as knight again. Only rest still of -Limousin, and, for all but this lord, choose a name -not your own.” She mused a little, her eyes upon -the letter, folded and sealed, that she held. “But -I must know it—the name. Call yourself, then, the -Knight of the Wood.” She held out the letter. He -touched his knee to the stone floor and took it. “Go<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_329" id="Page_329">[329]</a></span> -now,” she said, “and the Saints have a true man in -their keeping!”</p> - -<p>The Abbess Madeleine, slender, pure-faced, of an -age with the princess, extended her hand, gave the -blessing of Mother Church. He rose, put the letter -in the breast of his tunic, stepped backward from -the two, and so left the room. Without was the -grey sister who again went, moth-like, before him, -leading him through the corridor to the Abbey -door. She opened this—he passed out into the -sunshine.</p> - -<p>Back in Angoulême, the first man appealed to sent -him to the court quarter of the town, the second -gave him precise directions whereby he might know -when he came to it the house that lodged the Count -of Beauvoisin, here in Angoulême with Duke Richard. -By a tangle of narrow streets Garin came to -houses tall enough to darken these ways, in the -shadow themselves of the huge castle. He found the -greatest house, where was a porter at the door, and -lounging about it a medley of the appendage sort. -Jongleur’s art and his own suasive power got him -entrance to a small court where gathered gayer, -more important retainers. He sang for these, and -heads looked out of windows. A page appeared with -a summons to the hall. Following the youngster, -Garin found himself among knights, well-nigh a -score, awaiting in hall the count’s pleasure. Here, -moreover, was a troubadour of fame not inconsiderable, -knight as well, but not singer of his own<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_330" id="Page_330">[330]</a></span> -verses. He had with him two jongleurs for that, and -these now looked somewhat greenly at Garin.</p> - -<p>A knight spoke. “Jongleur, sing here as well as -you sang below, and gain will come to you!” Garin -sang. “Ha!” cried the knights, “they sing that way -in Paradise!”</p> - -<p>The troubadour advanced to the front of the -group and bade him sing again. He obeyed. “Gold -hair of Our Lady!” swore the troubadour. “How -comes it that you are not jongleur to a poet?”</p> - -<p>“I had a master,” answered Garin, “but he foreswore -song and, chaining himself to a rock, became -an eremite. Good sirs, if the Count might hear -me—”</p> - -<p>“He will be here anon from the castle. He shall -hear you, jongleur, and so shall our Lord, Duke -Richard! Springtime in Heaven!” quoth the troubadour. -“I would take you into my employ, but -though I can pay linnets, I cannot pay nightingales!—Do -you know any song of Robert de Mercœur?”</p> - -<p>He asked for his own. Garin, seeing that he did -so, smiled and swept the strings of the lute. “Aye, -I know more than one!” He sang, and did sweet -words justice. The knights, each after his own -fashion, gave applause, and Robert de Mercœur -sighed with pleasure. The song was short. Garin -lifted his voice in another, made by the same troubadour. -“Ah!” sighed Robert, “I would buy you -and feed you from my hand!” He sat for a moment<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_331" id="Page_331">[331]</a></span> -with closed eyes, tasting the bliss of right interpretation. -Then, “Know you Garin of the Golden -Isle’s, <i>If e’er, Fair Goal, I turn my eyes from thee</i>?”</p> - -<p>Garin sang it. “Rose tree of the Soul!” said -Robert de Mercœur; “there is the poet I would have -fellowship with!”</p> - -<p>The leaves of the great door opened, and there -came into hall the Count of Beauvoisin, with him -two or three famed knights. All who had been -seated, or lounging half reclined, stood up; the -silence of deference fell at once. Garin saw that -the count was not old and that he had a look of the -Abbess Madeleine. He said that he was weary from -riding, and coming to his accustomed great chair, -sat down and stretched himself with a sigh. His -eyes fell upon the troubadour with whom he had -acquaintance. “Ha, Robert! rest us with music.”</p> - -<p>“Lord count,” said Robert, “we have here a -jongleur with the angel of sound in his throat and -the angel of intelligence in his head! Set him to singing.—Sing, -jongleur, again, that which you have just sung.”</p> - -<p>Garin touched his lute. As he did so he came near -to the count. He stood and sang the song of Garin of -the Golden Island. “Ah, ah!” said the Count of -Beauvoisin. “The Saints fed you with honey in your -cradle!” A coin gleamed between his outstretched -fingers. Garin came very near to receive it. “Lord,” -he whispered as he bent, “much hangs upon my -speaking to you alone.”</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_332" id="Page_332">[332]</a></span></p> - -<p>A jongleur upon an embassy was never an unheard-of -phenomenon. The Count moved so as to -let the light fall upon this present jongleur’s face. -The eyes of the two men met, the one in an enquiring, -the other in a beseeching and compelling gaze. -The count leaned back in his chair, the jongleur, -when he had bowed low, moved to his original -station. “He sings well indeed!” said the Count. -“Give him place among his fellows, and when there -is listening-space I will hear him again.”</p> - -<p>Ere long he rose and was attended from the hall. -The knights, too, left the place, each bent upon his -own concerns. Only the troubadour Robert de -Mercœur remained, and he came and, seating himself -on the same bench with Garin, asked if he would -be taught a just-composed <i>alba</i> or morning song, -and upon the other’s word of assent forthwith repeated -the first stanza. Garin said it over after him. -“Ha, jongleur!” quoth Robert, “you are worthy to -be a troubadour! Not all can give values value! The -second goes thus—”</p> - -<p>But before the <i>alba</i> was wholly learned came a -page, summoning the jongleur. Garin, following the -boy, came into the count’s chamber. Here was that -lord, none with him but a chamberlain whom he -sent away. “Now, jongleur,” said the count, “what -errand and by whom despatched?”</p> - -<p>Garin drew the letter from his tunic and gave it, -his hand into the other’s hand. The count looked at -the writing. “What is here?” he said. “Does the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_333" id="Page_333">[333]</a></span> -Abbess Madeleine choose a jongleur for a messenger?” -He broke the seal, read the first few lines, -glanced at the body of the letter, then with a startled -look, followed by a knit brow, laid it upon the table -beside him but kept his hand over it. He stood in a -brown study. Garin, watching him, divined that -mind and heart and memory were busied elsewhere -than in just this house in Angoulême. At last he -moved, turned his head and spoke to the page. -“Ammonet!” Ammonet came from the door. “Take -this jongleur to some chamber where he may rest. -Have food and wine sent to him there.” He spoke -to Garin, “Go! but I shall send for you here again!”</p> - -<p>The day descended to evening, the evening to -night. Darkness had prevailed for a length of time -when Ammonet returned to the small, bare room -where Garin rested, stretched upon a bench. “Come, -jongleur!” said the page. “My lord is ready for -bed and would, methinks, be sung to sleep.”</p> - -<p>Rising, he followed, and came again to the Count’s -chamber, where now was firelight and candle-light, -and the Count of Beauvoisin in a furred robe, pacing -the room from side to side. “Wait without,” he -said to Ammonet, and the two men were alone together. -The count paced the floor, Garin stood by -the hooded fireplace. He had seen in the afternoon -that he and this lord might understand each other.</p> - -<p>The count spoke. “No marvel that we liked your -singing! What if there had been in hall knight and -crusader who had heard you beyond the sea?”</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_334" id="Page_334">[334]</a></span></p> - -<p>“Chance, risk, and brambles grow in every land.”</p> - -<p>“<i>Garin of the Golden Island.</i>—I know not who, -in Angoulême, may know that you fight with Roche-de-Frêne. -Duke Richard, who knows somewhat of -all troubadours, knows it.”</p> - -<p>“I do not mean to cry it aloud.—Few in this -country know my face, and my name stays hidden.—May -we speak, my lord count, of another presence -in Angoulême?”</p> - -<p>The other ceased his pacing, flung himself down -on a seat before the fire, and leaned forward with -clasped hands and bent head. He sat thus for an appreciable -time, then with a deep breath straightened -himself. “When she was the Lady Madeleine the -Abbess Madeleine ruled a great realm in my life. -God knoweth, in much she is still my helm!... Sit -you down and let us talk.”</p> - -<hr class="chap" /> - -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_335" id="Page_335">[335]</a></span></p> - -<div class="chapter"> - -<h2 class="p4"><a name="c335" id="c335">CHAPTER XXV</a></h2> - -<p class="pch">RICHARD LION-HEART</p> - -<p class="pn"><span class="smcap">The</span> sun came up and lighted Angoulême, town and -castle, hill and valley. Light and warmth increased. -The town began to murmur like a hive, clack like -a mill, clang and sound as though armourers were -working. Angoulême had breakfast and turned with -vigour the wheel of the day. The Count of Beauvoisin -rode with a small following to the Abbey of -the Fountain, to see his kinswoman the Abbess -Madeleine. Duke Richard Lion-Heart did what he -did, and felt what he felt, and believed what he believed, -with intensity. He was as religious as an -acquiescent thunderbolt in Jehovah’s hand. Where-ever -he came, a kind of jewelled sunshine played -about the branches, in that place, of the Vine the -Church. It might shine with fitfulness, but the fitfulness -was less than the shining. His vassals knew -his quality; when they were with him or where his -eye oversaw their conduct, the ritual of a religious -life received sharpened attention.</p> - -<p>The Abbey of the Fountain was a noble House of -Nuns, known afar for its piety, scholarship, and -good works. Richard, coming to Angoulême, had -sent a gift and asked for the prayers of the Abbess -Madeleine, whom the region held for nigh a saint.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_336" id="Page_336">[336]</a></span> -Offering and request had been borne by the Count -of Beauvoisin, who was the Abbess’s kinsman. It -was not strange in the eyes of any that he should ride -again to the Abbey of the Fountain, this time, perhaps, -with his own soul’s good in mind.</p> - -<p>With him rode the knight who had come to the -count’s house in Angoulême in the guise of a jongleur. -That was not strange, either—if the knight -were acquaintance or friend, and if some wolfish -danger had forced him to become a fugitive from -his own proper setting, or if romance and whim -were responsible, or if he had taken a vow. Yesterday -he had been a jongleur with a very golden voice. -To-day he appeared a belted knight, dressed by the -count, given a horse and a place in his train. He was -called the “Knight of the Wood.” Probably it was -not his true name. Chivalry knew these transformations, -and upheld them as an integer in its own sum -of rights. The knight would have a reason, be it as -solid as the ground, or be it formed of rose-hued mist, -solid only to his own imagination! For the rest, he -seemed a noble knight. The count showed him -favour, but not enough to awaken criticism, making -others fear displacement.</p> - -<p>All rode through the streets of Angoulême, in the -bright keen day. Robert of Mercœur was neighbour -of the Knight of the Wood, and looked aslant at -him with an intuitive eye. They passed out by the -west gate and wound down to the valley floor. It -was no distance from the town to the Abbey of the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_337" id="Page_337">[337]</a></span> -Fountain; the latter’s great leafless trees were presently -about them. The count with a word drew -Garin to ride at his bridle-hand. The two or three -following fell a little back. Beauvoisin spoke. -“Richard says that he will be a week in Angoulême. -But he knows not when his mood may change, and -in all save three or four things he follows his mood.”</p> - -<p>The Knight of the Wood looked east and south. -“I will answer for there being a vision of many in -extremity, and a wild heartbeat to win and begone!”</p> - -<p>“‘Win.’—I know not, nor can you know as to -that.”</p> - -<p>“The schools would say ‘True, lord count!’ But -there is learning beyond learning.”</p> - -<p>They rode in silence, each pursuing his own -thought. Beauvoisin rode with lifted head, gazing -before him down the vista of trees, to where the -grey wall closed it. Presently he spoke, but spoke -as though he did not know that he was speaking. -“We were within the prohibited degrees of kin.”</p> - -<p>The great trees stood widely apart, gave way to -the grassy space before the Abbey.</p> - -<p>The Count of Beauvoisin, his cap in his hand, was -granted admittance at the Abbey portal; might, in -the abbess’s room, grey nuns attending her, speak -with the veiled abbess. But they who were with -him waited without, quietly, as the place demanded, -in the grassy space. The Knight of the Wood -waited.</p> - -<p>The minutes passed. When an hour had gone<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_338" id="Page_338">[338]</a></span> -by, Beauvoisin came from the grey building. He -mounted his horse, looked steadfastly at the place, -then, with the air of a man in a dream, turned -toward Angoulême. The knights followed him, riding -between huge boles of trees that towered. -Robert of Mercœur was again at Garin’s side.</p> - -<p>“Do you mark that look of exaltation? One man -has one heaven and another, another—or that is -the case while they are men. Count Rainier has -seen his heaven—felt the waving of its hands over -his head!”</p> - -<p>In Angoulême, in its widest street, they saw -approaching a cavalcade from the castle, a brilliant -troop, glittering steel, shimmering fine apparel, -pushing with gaiety through the town upon some -short journey, half errand of state, half of pleasure. -At its head rode one who had the noblest steed, the -richest dress. He was a man very fair, long-armed, -sinewy, of medium height. There was great vigour -of bearing, warmth from within out, an apparent -quality that drew, save when from another quarter -of the nature came, scudding, wrath and tempest. -The mien of command was not lacking, nor, to a -given point, of self-command. He drew rein to -speak to the Count of Beauvoisin; who with his following -had given room, backing their horses into the -opening of a narrower street.</p> - -<p>“Ha, Beauvoisin, we sent for you but found you -not!—Come to supper, man, with me to-night!” -His roving blue eye found out Robert of Mercœur.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_339" id="Page_339">[339]</a></span> -“Do you come with him, Robert—and we will -talk of how the world will seem when all are poets!”</p> - -<p>“Beausire,” said the count, “at your will! Now -I turn beggar and beg for you for guest in my house -to-morrow.”</p> - -<p>“I will come—I will come!” said Richard.</p> - -<p>He nodded to Beauvoisin, put his horse into motion, -clattered down the ill-paved street. His train -followed, lords and knights speaking to the count as -they passed. When all were gone in noise and colour, -those who had ridden to the Abbey of the Fountain -reëntered the wider street and so came to the house -whence they had started. Dismounting in the court -where Garin had sung, they went, one to this business -or pleasure, one to that. But the count, entering, -mounted a great echoing flight of stairs to his -chamber, and here, obeying his signal, came also -the Knight of the Wood. Beauvoisin dismissed all -attendants, and the two were alone.</p> - -<p>“I have seen your princess,” said Beauvoisin. -“She is a gallant lady, though not fair.”</p> - -<p>“Ah, what is ‘fair’? The time tells the eyes that -such and such is beauty. Then comes another -time with its reversal! But all the time, if the soul -is ‘fair’? The princess is ‘fair’ to me.”</p> - -<p>Beauvoisin looked at him steadily. “I see,” he -said “that we have a like fate—God He knoweth -all, and what the great cup of life holds, holds, -holds!... Well, that princess has courage and is -wise! I had heard as much of her, and I see that it -is so. In her first womanhood the Abbess Madeleine<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_340" id="Page_340">[340]</a></span> -was a long while at the court of Roche-de-Frêne. -Your princess is her friend.” He paced the room, -then, coming to the fire, bent over the flame.</p> - -<p>“I see, my lord count,” said Garin, “devotion -and generousness!”</p> - -<p>Beauvoisin was silent, warming himself at the -flame. Garin of the Golden Island, standing at the -window, looked toward Roche-de-Frêne. His mind’s -eye saw assault and repulse and again assault, the -push against walls and gates, the men upon the walls, -at the gates, the engines of war, the reeking fury of -fight. The keener ear heard the war-cries, the clangour -and the shouting, and underneath, the groan. He -saw the banner that attacked, and above the castle, -above Red Tower and Lion Tower, the banner -that defended. He turned toward the room again.</p> - -<p>The count spoke, “<i>Jaufre de Montmaure!</i> I have no -love for Count Jaufre, nor friendship with him. I was -of those who, an they could, would have kept Richard -from this huge support he has given. My party -would still see it withdrawn.—But Richard treads -a road of his own.... Were Jaufre Richard, your -princess, being here, would be in the lion’s den! But -just her coming—the first outbursting of his anger -over—will put her person safe with Richard.”</p> - -<p>“That has been felt—knowing by old rumour -certain qualities in him.”</p> - -<p>“It was truly felt. But as to the gain for which -all was risked!—Jaufre has been to him an evil companion, -but a companion. But,” said the Count of -Beauvoisin, “even at my proper danger, I will get<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_341" id="Page_341">[341]</a></span> -for her who, by Saint Michael! with courage has -come here, the meeting she asks!”</p> - -<p class="p2">The castle of Angoulême was not so huge and -strong a place as the castle of Roche-de-Frêne, but -still was it great and strong enough. The high of -rank among its usual population remained within -its walls, but the lesser sort were crowded out and -flowed into the town, so making room for Duke -Richard’s great train. Martialness was the tone -where he went, with traceable threads of song, -threads of religiousness. Colours had violence, and -yet with suddenness and for short whiles might -soften to tenderness. There was brazen clangour, -rattle as of armour, dominance of trumpets, yet -flute notes might come in the interstices, and lute -and harp had their recognized times. And all and -whatever was in presence showed with him intense -and glowing. Idea clothed itself promptly in emotion, -emotion ran hotfoot into action, but none of -the three were film-like, momentary. Impetuous, -they owned a solidity. He could do, he had done, -many an evil thing, but there was room for a sense -of realms that were not evil.</p> - -<p>It was afternoon, and the red sun reddened the -castle hall. There had been planned some manner -of indoor festivity, pageantry. The world of chivalry, -men and women, gathered in Angoulême about -Richard Lion-Heart, was there to see and be seen. -But after the first half-hour Richard rose and went -away. His immediate court was used to that, too.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_342" id="Page_342">[342]</a></span> -His mood had countered the agreed-upon mood for -the hour: naught was to do but to watch him depart. -Music that was playing played more loudly; a -miracle-story in pantomime was urged to more passionate -action; as best might be, the chasm was -covered. “It is the Duke’s way—applaud the entertainers -or the thing will drag!”</p> - -<p>The duke went away to a great room in another -part of the castle. With him he drew two or three of -his intimates; in the room itself attended the Count -of Beauvoisin and several knights of fame and worthiness. -Among these stood that newcomer to Angoulême, -the Knight of the Wood. The room was -richly furnished, lit by the red light of the sun -streaming through three deep windows. A door in -the opposite wall gave into a smaller room.</p> - -<p>Richard, entering, flung himself into the chair -set for him in the middle of a great square of -cloth worked with gold. His brow was dark; -when he spoke, his voice had the ominous, lion note.</p> - -<p>“My lord of Beauvoisin!”</p> - -<p>Beauvoisin came near. “Lord, all is arranged—”</p> - -<p>The duke made a violent movement of impatience, -of anger beginning to work.</p> - -<p>“This is a madness that leads to naught! Does -this princess think I am so fickle—?”</p> - -<p>His blue eye, roving the room, came to the group -of knights at the far end. “Yonder knight—is he -Garin of the Golden Island?”</p> - -<p>“Yes, lord.”</p> - -<p>Duke Richard gazed at Garin of the Golden<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_343" id="Page_343">[343]</a></span> -Island. “By the rood, he looks a man!” He turned -to his anger again. “But now this woman—this -Princess of Roche-de-Frêne—” His impatient foot -wrinkled the silken carpet. “She may count it for -happiness if I do not hold her here while I send messengers -to Count Jaufre, ‘Lo, I have caged your -bride for you!’” He nursed his anger. Beauvoisin -saw with apprehension how he fanned it. “What -woman comprehends man’s loyalty to man? I said -to Montmaure I would aid him—”</p> - -<p>“My lord, the princess is here—within yonder -room.”</p> - -<p>“Ha!” cried Richard; and that in his nature that -gave back, touch for touch, Jaufre de Montmaure, -came through the doors his anger had opened. “Let -her then come to me here as would the smallest -petitioner! God’s blood! Montmaure has her land. -I hold her not as reigning princess and my peer!”</p> - -<p>Beauvoisin stepped to the door of the lesser room, -opened it, and having spoken to one within, stood -aside. Duke Richard turned in his seat, looked at -the red sun out of window. He showed a tension: -the movement of his foot upon the floor-cloth might -have stood for the lion’s pacing to and fro, lashing -himself to fury. At a sign from Beauvoisin the -knights had drawn farther into the shadow at the -end of the room. Garin watched from this dusk.</p> - -<p>The Princess of Roche-de-Frêne came with simplicity -and quietness from the lesser room. She was -not dressed now as a herd-girl, but as a princess. -There followed her two grey nuns who, taking their<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_344" id="Page_344">[344]</a></span> -stand by the door, remained there with lowered eyes -and fingers upon their rosaries. The princess came -to the edge of the gold-wrought square. “My lord -duke,” she said; and when Garin heard her voice he -knew that power was in her.</p> - -<p>When Richard turned from the window she -kneeled and that without outward or inner cavilling.</p> - -<p>“Ha, madame!” said Richard. “Blood of God! -did you think to gain aught by coming here?”</p> - -<p>She answered him; then, after a moment’s silence -which he did not break, began again to speak. The -tones of her voice, now sustained, now changing, -came to those afar in the room, but not all the words -she said. Without words, they gave to those by the -wall a tingling of the nerves, a feeling of wave on wave -of force—not hostile, uniting with something in -themselves, giving to that something volume and momentum, -wealth.... There were slight movements, -then stillness answering the still, intense burning, -the burning white, of her passion, will, and power.</p> - -<p>She rested from speech. Richard left his chair, -came to her and giving her his hand, aided her to -rise. He sent his voice down the room to Beauvoisin. -“My lord count, bring yonder chair for the -princess.” He had moved and spoken as one not in -a dream, but among visions. When the chair was -brought and placed upon the golden cloth and she -had seated herself in it, he retook his own. “Jaufre -de Montmaure,” he said, “was my friend, and he -wanted you for bride—”</p> - -<p>She began again to speak, and the immortal power<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_345" id="Page_345">[345]</a></span> -and desire of her nature, burning deep and high and -rapidly, coloured and shook the room. “Lord, -lord,” she said. “The right of it—” Sentence by -sentence, wave on wave, the right of it made way, -seeing that deep within Duke Richard there was one -of its own household who must answer.</p> - -<p>That meeting lasted an hour. The Princess of -Roche-de-Frêne, rising from her chair, stretched out -her hands to Richard Lion-Heart. “I would rest all -now, my lord duke. The sun is sinking, but for all -that we yet will live by its light. In the morning it -comes again.”</p> - -<p>“I will ride to-morrow to the Abbey of the Fountain. -We will speak further together. I have promised -naught.”</p> - -<p>“No. But give room and maintenance to-night, my -Lord Richard, to all that I have said that is verity. -Let all that is not verity go by you—go by you!”</p> - -<p>Beauvoisin and his men gave her and the nuns -with her escort back to the Abbey of the Fountain. -Going, she put upon her head and drew forward so -that it shadowed her face, a long veil of eastern -make, threaded with gold and silver. Her robe was -blue, a strange, soft, deep colour.</p> - -<p>The next morning, Duke Richard rode to the -Abbey. He went again the day after, and this day -the sheaf was made. The Princess of Roche-de-Frêne -and Jaufre de Montmaure appealed each to a -man in Duke Richard, a higher man and a lower -man. In these winter days, but sun-lighted, the -higher man won.</p> - -<hr class="chap" /> - -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_346" id="Page_346">[346]</a></span></p> - -<div class="chapter"> - -<h2 class="p4"><a name="c346" id="c346">CHAPTER XXVI</a></h2> - -<p class="pch">THE FAIR GOAL</p> - -<p class="pn"><span class="smcap">Messengers</span>, heralds, bearing decisive and peremptory -speech, went from Richard, Count of Poitou -and Duke of Aquitaine, to the Counts of Montmaure. -Others were despatched to the leaders of the -host of Aquitaine before Roche-de-Frêne. Duke -Richard was at peace with Roche-de-Frêne; let that -host therefore direct no blow against its lord’s ally! -Instead, let it forthwith detach itself from Montmaure, -withdraw at once from the princedom of -Roche-de-Frêne, and, returned within its own boundaries, -go each man to his own home. <i>On your faith -and obedience.</i> So the heralds to the leaders of the -aid from Aquitaine.</p> - -<p>To the Counts of Montmaure the heralds, declaring -themselves true heart, mouth, and speech of Duke -Richard, delivered peremptory summons to desist -from this war. An they did not, it would be held -to them for revolt from Richard their suzerain.... -The heralds with their train rode fast and rode far.</p> - -<p>The Princess of Roche-de-Frêne awaited in -Angoulême the earliest fruit of this faring. She -waited at first at the Abbey of the Fountain, but -presently in the town as Duke Richard’s guest. A -great house was given her, with all comfort and<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_347" id="Page_347">[347]</a></span> -service. Ladies came to wait upon her; she had -seneschal, chamberlain and page. If she would go -abroad she had palfreys with their grooms; in her -hall waited knights to attend her. Angoulême and -its castle and the court about Duke Richard buzzed -of her presence in this place, of what adventure had -been hers to reach it, and of the attitude now of -Richard Lion-Heart. They did not know detail -of her adventure, but they knew that it had taken -courage. They knew that Richard had in him power -to turn squarely. They did not know all the whys -and wherefores, depths and reasons of the right -angle that made in Angoulême a whirling cloud of -speculation, but as a fact they accepted it and proceeded -with their own adaptation. The party that, -for reasons personal to itself, had backed Montmaure, -wagering in effect upon the permanency of -his influence with Richard, took its discomforture as -enforced surgery and found it wisdom’s part to profess -healing. The party that had been hostile to -Montmaure found a clearing day and walked with -satisfaction in the sun. Those—not many—who -had stood between the two, found usual cautious -pleasure in changing scenery and event. The most -in Angoulême could give nine days to wonder. The -Princess Audiart stayed with them no greatly longer -time.</p> - -<p>Duke Richard came to her house in state. In -state she returned the visit, was met by him at the -castle gate. He would give a joust in her honour,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_348" id="Page_348">[348]</a></span> -and afterward a contest of troubadours. She sat beside -him on the dais, and watched all with a gentle -face, a still and inscrutable look. Beauvoisin was of -those who tourneyed, and among the knights whom -he brought into the lists rode Garin of the Black -Castle, who did most well and was given great observance. -The next day, when there was song, -Richard called for Garin of the Golden Island, naming -him famed knight, famed poet, famed bird of -song, bird that sang from itself. Garin came before -the dais, took from a jongleur his lute.</p> - -<p>“Sir Garin of the Golden Island,” said Richard, -“sing <i>Within its heart the nightingale</i>—”</p> - -<p>He sang—a golden song sung greatly.</p> - -<p>“Ah!” sighed Richard Lion-Heart, and bade him -sing <i>When in my dreams thou risest like a star</i>. “Ah -God!” said Richard. “Some are kings one way, and -some another! Sing now and lastly to-day, <i>Fair -Goal</i>.”</p> - -<p>Garin sang. All Angoulême that might gather in -the great hall, in the galleries, in the court and passages -without, listened with parted lips. Richard -listened, and in some sort he may have felt what the -singer felt of goals beyond goals, of glories beyond -the loveliness and glories of symbols, of immortal -union behind, beneath, above the sweetness of an -earthly fact.</p> - -<p>One was present who did feel what the singer -felt, and that was the princess who sat as still as -if she were carven there.... Garin of the Golden<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_349" id="Page_349">[349]</a></span> -Island won the golden falcon that was the duke’s -prize.</p> - -<p>A week went by. A second began to drift into the -past, winter day by winter day. Messengers now -rode into Angoulême and through the castle gates, -and were brought to Duke Richard. They came -from the lords of Aquitaine encamped before Roche-de-Frêne, -and they bore tidings of obedience. The -host helped no longer in this war. When the messengers -departed it was in act of lifting from all its -encampments; even now it would be withdrawing -from the lands of Roche-de-Frêne. Richard sent -this word in state to the princess in Angoulême.</p> - -<p>A day later there spurred at dusk into Angoulême -a cloaked and hooded lord, behind him three or four, -knights or squires. The following morn the first won -through to Richard’s presence. The two were alone -together a considerable time. Those who waited -without the room heard rise and fall of voices.... -At last came the lion’s note in Richard’s voice, but -it changed and fell away. He was speaking now with -an icy reasonableness. That passed to a very still, -pointed utterance with silences between.... The -other made passionate answer. Richard’s speech -took a sternness and energy which in him marked -the lion sublimated. Then a bell was struck; the attendants, -when they opened the door, had a glimpse -of a red-gold head and a working face, hook-nosed, -with a scar upon its cheek.</p> - -<p>Montmaure left Angoulême; he rode in savagery<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_350" id="Page_350">[350]</a></span> -and bitterness, his spur reddening the side of his -horse, the men with him labouring after. He rode, -whether by day or by eve, in a hot night of his own. -Red sparks flashed through it, and each showed -something he did not wish to see. Now it was -Richard whom he doubted if ever he could regain, -and now it was Richard’s aid withdrawing—withdrawn—from -the plain by Roche-de-Frêne. Cap-du-Loup—Cap-du-Loup -would follow Aquitaine, -might even now gustily have whirled away! Jaufre’s -spirit whispered of other allies who might follow. -The glare showed him the force of Montmaure that -was left, spread thinly before Roche-de-Frêne. It -showed Roche-de-Frêne, as last he had seen it, over -his shoulder, when he rode with fury and passion -to work in Angoulême a counter-miracle,—as he -would see it now again,—Roche-de-Frêne grim and -dauntless, huge giant seated on a giant rock. Jaufre, -whelmed in his night-time, shook with its immensity -of tempest. The storm brought forth lights of -its own. They showed him Montmaure—Montmaure -also in motion—cowering forth, unwinning, -from this war. They showed him Audiart the princess. -When he came to Angoulême he had learned -there who had wrought the miracle.... An inner -light that was not red or born of storm trembled -suddenly, far above the great fens and marshes and -hot, wild currents. <i>That quality in her that had -wrought the miracle</i>—It was but a point, a gleam, -but Jaufre had seen white light. The storm closed<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_351" id="Page_351">[351]</a></span> -in upon him, but he had looked into a higher order, -knew now that it was there. His huge, lower being -writhed, felt the space above it.</p> - -<p>Hours passed, days passed. He came through -country which he had charred, back to Montmaure’s -tents. The dragon lay shrunken; it could no longer -wholly enfold Roche-de-Frêne. Jaufre found his -father’s red pavilion, entered.</p> - -<p>Count Savaric started up. “Ha! you rode fast! -Speak out! Is it good or bad?”</p> - -<p>“Bad,” said Jaufre, and faintly, faintly knew that -it was good.</p> - -<p>The days went by in Angoulême and there came -again the heralds who had been sent to Montmaure. -They brought Count Savaric’s and Count Jaufre’s -submission to the will of their suzerain—since no -other could be done and sunshine be kept to grow -in! They brought news of the lifting of the siege -of Roche-de-Frêne. On the morrow came one who -had been in Roche-de-Frêne. He had to tell of joy -that overflowed.</p> - -<p>The Princess Audiart left the court of Richard -Lion-Heart for her own land and capital town. She -went with a great escort which Richard would give -her. The danger now from the dragon that had -ravaged her country lay only in the scattered drops -of venom that might be encountered,—wild bands, -Free Companies, wandering about, ripe for mischief, -not yet sunk back into their first lairs. She and -Duke Richard made pact of amity between his house<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_352" id="Page_352">[352]</a></span> -and hers, and she went from Angoulême on a grey -day, beneath a cloud-roof that promised snow. At -the Abbey of the Fountain she dismounted, entered -to say farewell to the Abbess Madeleine and to kneel -for Church’s blessing. She had ladies now in her -train. These entered with her, and two knights, the -Count of Beauvoisin and Sir Garin of the Black -Castle. Forth and upon the road, Beauvoisin rode -at her right. He had the duke’s signet, lord’s power -to bear her safely through every territory that owed -allegiance to Richard.</p> - -<p>The snow fell, but the air was not cold. They rode -through the afternoon wrapped in a veil of large -white flakes. In the twilight they reached a fair-sized -town where great and rich preparation had -been made for them. The next day also the snow -fell, and they fared forward through a white country. -Then the snow ceased, the clouds faded and a -great heaven of blue vaulted the world. The sun -shone and melted the snow, there came a breath as of -the early spring.</p> - -<p>In the middle of the day they pitched the princess’s -pavilion in the lee of a hill or in some purple wood. -They built a fire for her and her ladies and, a distance -away, a campfire. Dinner was cooked and -served; rest was taken, then camp was broken and -they rode on again. Time and route were spaced so -that at eve they entered town or village or castle -gate. Beauvoisin had sent horsemen ahead—when -the princess and her company entered, they found<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_353" id="Page_353">[353]</a></span> -room and cheer with varying pomp of welcome. -The night passed, in the morning stately adieux were -made; they travelled on.</p> - -<p>Riding east and south, they came now into and -crossed fiefs that held from Montmaure who held -from Aquitaine. Beauvoisin kept hawk-watch and -all knights rode with a warrior mien. Care was taken -where the camp should be made. Among those sent -ahead to town or castle were poursuivants who made -formal proclamation of Duke Richard’s mind.—But -though they saw many who had been among -the invaders of Roche-de-Frêne, and though the -country wore a scowling and forbidding aspect,—where -it did not wear an aspect relieved and complaisant,—they -made transit without open or -secret hindrance. They came nearer, nearer to -borders of Roche-de-Frêne. In clear and gentle -weather the princess entered that fief which had -been held by Raimbaut the Six-fingered.</p> - -<p>This was a ravaged region indeed, and there was -no town here for sleeping in and no great castle that -stood. When the sun was low in the western sky -they set the princess’s pavilion, and one for her -ladies, at the edge of a wood. A murmuring stream -went by; there were two great pine trees and the fire -that was lighted made bronze pillars of their trunks. -Something in them brought into Audiart’s mind the -Palestine pillars before the shrine of Our Lady of -Roche-de-Frêne.</p> - -<p>The sun was a golden ball, close to the horizon.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_354" id="Page_354">[354]</a></span> -Wrapped in her mantle, she sat on a stone by the fire -and watched it. Her ladies, perceiving that she -wished to be alone, kept within the pavilions. Beauvoisin -and his knights sat or reclined about their -fire farther down the stream. Farther yet a third -great fire blazed for the squires and men-at-arms. -Upon a jutting mound a knight and a squire sat -their horses, motionless as statues, watching that -naught of ill came near the pavilions.</p> - -<p>One upon the bank of the stream drew farther -from the knights’ fire and nearer to that of the princess, -then stood where she might see him. She turned -her head as if she felt him there.</p> - -<p>“Come to the fire, Sir Garin,” she said.</p> - -<p>Garin came. “My Lady Audiart, may I speak? -I have a favour to beg.”</p> - -<p>She nodded her head. “What do you wish, Sir -Garin?”</p> - -<p>Garin stood before her, and the light played over -and about him. “We are on land that Raimbaut -the Six-fingered held, whose squire I was. Not many -leagues from this wood is Castel-Noir, where I was -born and where my brother, if it be that he yet lives, -abides. I would see him again, and I would rest -with him for a time and help him bring our fief back -to well-being and well-doing.—What I ask, my -Lady Audiart, is that in the morning I may turn -aside to Castel-Noir and rest there.”</p> - -<p>The princess sat very still upon the stone. The -golden sun had slipped to half an orb; wood and hill<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_355" id="Page_355">[355]</a></span> -stretched dark, the voice of the stream changed key. -Audiart seemed to ponder that request. Her hand -shaded her face. At last, “We have word that ere -we reach the Convent of Our Lady in Egypt there -will meet us a great company of our own lords and -knights. So, with them and with our friends here, -we are to make glittering entry into Roche-de-Frêne.... -I do not prize the glitter, but so is the -custom, and so will it be done. Now if I have -wrought much for Roche-de-Frêne, I know not, but -I am glad. But if I have done aught, you have done -it, too, for I think that I could not have reached -Duke Richard without you. That is known now by -others, and will be more fully known.... Will you -not ride still to Roche-de-Frêne and take your share -of what sober triumph is preparing?”</p> - -<p>“Do you bid me do so, my Lady Audiart?”</p> - -<p>“I do not bid you. I will for you to do according -to your own will.”</p> - -<p>“Then I will not go now to Roche-de-Frêne, but I -will go to Castel-Noir.”</p> - -<p>The princess sat with her elbow on her knee and -her chin on her hand. She sat very still, her eyes -upon the winter glow behind the winter woods. -“As you will, Garin of the Golden Island,” she said -at last. Her voice had in it light and shadow. She -sat still and Garin stood as still, by the fire. All -around them was its light and the light in the sky -that made a bright dusk.</p> - -<p>He spoke. “<i>The Convent of Our Lady in Egypt.</i><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_356" id="Page_356">[356]</a></span> -Martinmas, eight years ago, I was in Roche-de-Frêne. -I heard Bishop Ugo preach and I knelt -in the church before Our Lady of Roche-de-Frêne. -Then I went to the inn for my horse. There, passers-by -asked me if I was for the feast-day jousts and -revels in the castle lists. I said No, I could not stay. -Then they said that there sat to judge the contest -the Princess Alazais, and beside her, the Princess -Audiart. I had no reason to think them mistaken. -Were they right, or were they wrong? Were you -there in Roche-de-Frêne?”</p> - -<p>“Martinmas, eight years ago?—No, I was not in -Roche-de-Frêne, though I came back to the castle -very soon. I was at Our Lady in Egypt.”</p> - -<p>“Ah God!” said Garin with strong emotion. -“How beautiful are Thy circles that Thou drawest!”</p> - -<p>She looked at him with parted lips. “Now, I will -ask a question! I wearied, that autumn, of nuns’ -ways and waiting ladies’ ways and my own ways. -One day I said, ‘I will go be a shepherdess and taste -the true earth!’” A smile hovered. “Faith! the experiment -was short!—Now, my question.—Being -a shepherdess, I was like to taste shepherdess’s -fare in this so knightly world. Then came by a true -knight, though his dress and estate were those of a -squire.—My question:—I asked him, that day, -‘Where is your home?’ He answered, that squire, -and I thought that he told the truth,—‘I dwell by -the sea, a long way from here.’—Sir Garin de -Castel-Noir, that was squire to Raimbaut the Six-fingered,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_357" id="Page_357">[357]</a></span> -neither dwelling nor serving by the sea but -among hills, and not far away but near at hand, tell -me now and tell me truly—”</p> - -<p>“Jael the herd, I am punished! I thought to myself, -‘I am in danger from that false knight who will -certainly seek me.’”</p> - -<p>“Ah, I see!” said the princess; and she laughed at -him in scorn.</p> - -<p>“It is an ill thing,” said Garin, “to mistrust and to -lie! I make no plea, my Lady Audiart, save that I -do not always so.”</p> - -<p>“Certes, no! I believe you there.... Let it go by.... -That shepherdess could not, after all, be to you -for trustworthiness like your Fair Goal—”</p> - -<p>She ceased abruptly upon the name. The colour -glowed in the west, the colour played and leaped -in the faggot fire, the colour quivered in their own -faces. Light that was not outer light brightened -in their eyes. Their frames trembled, their tissues -seemed to themselves and to each other to grow fine -and luminous. There had been a shock, and all the -world was different.</p> - -<p>Garin spoke. “On a Tuesday you were Jael the -herd. On a Thursday, in the middle of the day, you -came with your ladies to a lawn by the stream that -flows by Our Lady in Egypt—the lawn of the plane, -the poplar and the cedar, the stone chair beneath -the cedar, and the tall thick laurels rounding all.” -He was knight and poet and singer now—Garin of -the Golden Island—knight and poet and singer and<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_358" id="Page_358">[358]</a></span> -another besides. “A nightingale had sung me into -covert there. I followed it down the stream, from -grove to grove, and it sung me into covert there. -The laurels were about me. I rested so close to the -cedar—so close to the stone chair! One played a -harp—you moved with your ladies to the water’s -edge—you came up the lawn again to the three -trees. You were robed in blue, my princess; your -veil was long and threaded with silver and gold, and -it hid your face. I never saw your face that day—nor -for long years afterward! You sat in the stone -chair—”</p> - -<p>“Stop!” said the Princess Audiart. She sat perfectly -still in the rich dusk. Air and countenance -had a strange hush, a moment of expressionless waiting. -Then uprushed the dawn. He saw the memory -awaken, the wings of knowledge outstretch. “Ah, -my God!” she whispered. “As I sat there, the -strangest breath came over me—sense of a presence -near as myself—” The rose in her face became carnation, -she sprang to her feet, turned aside. The fire -came between her and Garin; she paced up and down -in the shadowy space between the tree-trunks that -were like the Saracen pillars.</p> - -<p>Moments passed, then she returned and stood beside -the stone.</p> - -<p>Garin bent his knee. “My Lady Audiart, you, -and only you, in woman form, became to me her -whom for years I have sung, naming her the <i>Fair -Goal</i>.... I left that covert soon, going away without<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_359" id="Page_359">[359]</a></span> -sound. I only saw you veiled, but all is as I have -said.... But now, before I go to Castel-Noir, there -is more that I would tell to you.”</p> - -<p>“Speak at your will,” said the princess.</p> - -<p>“Do you remember one evening in the castle garden—first -upon the watch-tower, and then in the -garden, and you were weary of war and all its -thoughts, and bade me take Pierol’s lute and sing? -I sang, and you said, ‘Sing of the Fair Goal.’ I -sang—and there and then came that sense of doubleness -and yet one.... It came—it made for me -confusion and marvel, pain, delight. It plunged me -into a mist, where for a time I wandered. After that -it strengthened—strengthened—strengthened!... -At first, I fought it in my mind, for I thought it disloyalty. -I fought, but before this day I had ceased -to fight, or to think it disloyalty. Before we came -to Angoulême—and afterwards.... I knew not -how it might be—God knoweth I knew not how it -might be—but my lady whom I worshipped afar, -and my princess and my liege were one! I knew -that, though still I thought I saw impossibilities—They -did not matter, there was something higher -that dissolved impossibilities.... I saw again the -Fair Goal, and my heart sang louder, and all my -heart was hers as it had been, only more deeply so—more -deeply so! And still it is so—still it is the -same—only with the power, I think, of growing -forever!” He rose, came close to her, kneeled again -and put the edge of her mantle to his lips. “And<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_360" id="Page_360">[360]</a></span> -now, Princess of Roche-de-Frêne, I take my leave -and go to Castel-Noir. I am knight of yours. If -ever I may serve you, do you but call my name! -Adieu—adieu—adieu!”</p> - -<p>She regarded him with a great depth and beauty -of look. “Adieu, now, Sir Garin of the Black Castle—Sir -Garin of the Golden Island! Do you know -how much there is to do in Roche-de-Frêne—and -how, for a long time, perhaps, one must think only -of the people and the land that stood this war, and -of all that must be builded again?... Adieu now—adieu -now! Do not go from lands of Roche-de-Frêne -without my leave.”</p> - -<p>The dark was come, the bright stars burned above -the trees. There was a movement from the knights’ -fire—Beauvoisin coming to the princess’s pavilions -to enquire if all was well before the camp lay down -to sleep.</p> - -<p>Garin felt her clasped hands against his brow, felt -her cheek close, close to his. “Go now,” she breathed. -“Go now, my truest friend! What comes after -winter?—Why, spring comes after winter!”</p> - -<hr class="chap" /> - -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_361" id="Page_361">[361]</a></span></p> - -<div class="chapter"> - -<h2 class="p4"><a name="c361" id="c361">CHAPTER XXVII</a></h2> - -<p class="pch">SPRING TIME</p> - -<p class="pn"><span class="smcap">In</span> the winter dawn Garin rose, saddled his horse, -and, mounting, rode from that place. He travelled -through burned and wasted country, and he saw -many a piteous sight. But folk that were left were -building anew, and the sky was bright and the sunshine -good. He went by the ruins of Raimbaut’s -keep, and at last he came to Castel-Noir.</p> - -<p>Foulque lived and the black tower stood. News -of salvation had run like wildfire. Garin found -Foulque out-of-doors, old and meagre men and -young lads with him. The dozen huts that sheltered -by the black castle, sheltered still. The fields that it -claimed had gone undevastated. “Garin’s luck!” -said Foulque; whereupon old Jean crossed himself -for fear that Sir Foulque had crossed the luck.—But -the young and middle-aged men who had gone -to war for Roche-de-Frêne had not yet returned. -Some would not return. The women of the huts -looked haunted, and though the children played, -they did not do so freely. But the war had ended, -and some would come back, and Christmas-tide was -at hand and the sun shone on the brown fields.</p> - -<p>Foulque saw Garin coming. He put his hand -above his eyes. “<i>Peste!</i>” he said. “I always had -good sight—what’s the matter now? Look, boy, -for my eyes blur!”</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_362" id="Page_362">[362]</a></span></p> - -<p>They all looked, then they cried, “Sir Garin!” -and the younger rushed down to the road.</p> - -<p>That day and night passed. The folk of Castel-Noir -had liking for Sir Foulque, and that despite -some shrewdness of dealing and a bitter wit. But -they were becoming aware that they loved Sir -Garin. He stood and told them of how this man had -done and how that, of two brave deeds of Sicart’s, -and how Jean the Talkative talked but did well. He -told them who, to his knowledge, had quitted this -life; and he spoke not like a lord but like a friend to -those who upon that telling broke into mourning. -He could not tell them how life and death stood now -among Castel-Noir men, for he had been away -from Roche-de-Frêne. Castel-Noir came to understand -that he had been upon some service for the -princess, and that that explained why there was with -him neither squire nor man. To Foulque that evening -in the hall, by the fire, he told in part the story of -what the princess had wrought for Roche-de-Frêne.</p> - -<p>Foulque drew deeper breath. The colour came -into his withered cheek, he twisted in his chair. “I -heard rumours when Aquitaine lifted and went -away, and Montmaure slunk back—but my habit is -to wait for something more than rumours!... That -is a brave lady—a brave adventure! By the mass! -When I was young that would have stirred me!”</p> - -<p>Garin laughed at him. “It stirs you now, -Foulque!”</p> - -<p>Foulque would not grant that. But even while he -denied, he looked less crippled and shrivelled. “You<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_363" id="Page_363">[363]</a></span> -did your <i>devoir</i> also.... <i>Audiart the Wise</i>—Well, -she may be so!”</p> - -<p>“She is so,” said Garin.</p> - -<p>He slept that night, stirred in the early morning, -rose, and, dressing, called to Sicart’s son in the -courtyard to bring his horse. Old Pierre gave him -wheaten bread and a bowl of milk. Foulque, -wrapped in his furred mantle, came from the hall -and talked with him while he ate and drank. The -sun at the hill-tops, he rode down the narrow way -from the black tower and was lost to sight in the fir -wood. He rode until he reached a certain craggy -height of earth from which might be viewed the road -by which the Princess of Roche-de-Frêne must approach -Our Lady in Egypt. The height was shaggy -with tree and bush, it overhung the way, commanding -long stretches to either hand. Dismounting, he -tied his horse in a small, thick wood at the back -of the hill, then climbed afoot to the rough and -broken miniature plateau atop. Even as he came to -this he saw upon the western stretch of the road two -horsemen, and presently made out that they were -men of Beauvoisin’s sent ahead. They passed beneath -him, cantered on, faces set for Our Lady in Egypt.</p> - -<p>Garin found a couch of rock, a hollow, sandstrewn -cleft where, lying at length, small bushes hid -him from all observation. Here he stretched himself, -pillowed his head upon his arms, and waited to -see the princess pass. Time went by, and the morning -air brought him sound from the other hand. He -parted the bushes and looking east saw approaching<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_364" id="Page_364">[364]</a></span> -a great and gallant troop—lords and knights of -Roche-de-Frêne, coming to greet their princess close -within the boundaries of her own land.... They came -on with banners—a goodly column and a joyful. -Close at hand, he began to single out forms and faces -that he knew, and first he saw Stephen the Marshal -riding at the head, and then Raimon of Les Arbres, -and beside this lord, Aimar de Panemonde. Garin’s -heart rejoiced that Aimar lived. He looked fondly -upon his brother-in-arms, riding beneath the craggy -hill. Many another that he knew he saw. Others -he missed, and feared that they did not live or that -they lay hurt, for else they would have been here.</p> - -<p>The great troop, for all it rode with a singing -heart, with exultation and laughter and triumph, -had a war-worn look. The men and the horses were -gaunt. The men’s eyes seemed yet to be looking -on battle sights. Their gestures were angular, energetic -and final, their speech short, not flowing. The -colour of bronze, the hardness of iron, the edge of -steel were yet in presence. It was to be seen that -they had known hunger and weariness and desperation, -and had withstood with courage. The man -stretched upon the rock-edge above the passing -numbers felt his communion with them. They were -his brothers....</p> - -<p>Not only these. As they rode by he saw in vision -all the lands of Roche-de-Frêne and those who -peopled them, men and women and children. And -the town of Roche-de-Frêne and its citizens, men -and women and children, and all who had defended<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_365" id="Page_365">[365]</a></span> -it. And all the hills and vales of life.... He saw the -slain and the hurt and the impoverished and the -hearts that bled with loss—the waste fields and -the broken walls. He saw work to be done—long -work. And when that work was done and there -were only scars that did not throb, yet was there -work—building and building, though it could not -be weighed. He saw as he knew that she saw—and -the land became deep and dear to him, and the -people became father and mother and child, brother -and sister and friend.... “It is a baptism,” said -Garin, and covered his eyes with his hands.</p> - -<p>The great company went by, lessened in apparent -bulk, lessened still upon the westward running road. -Its trumpeters sounded their trumpets. Out of -the distance came to Garin’s ear an answering fanfare, -delicate and far like fairy trumpets. Rising -ground and purple wood hid the meeting between -the Princess of Roche-de-Frêne and her barons and -valiant knights.</p> - -<p>The sun climbed toward the summit. The troubadour -lay in the high cleft of the rock, felt the beams, -breathed the clear, pure air, hearkened to the sough -of the breeze in sere grass and bush. All earth and -air were his, and the golden home of warmth and -light, the great middle orb whose touch he felt. He -waited for sound or sight that should tell him that -the princess and her doubled train were coming. It -was not long to wait. In the night a light rain had -fallen—there was no dust, and the road was softened -beneath the horses’ hoofs. The great company<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_366" id="Page_366">[366]</a></span> -appeared now, like a vision, brightened and -heightened to the outer eye by strength of the inner. -Beauty and might, and sadness and joy, all lights -and all shadows, gained a firmer recognition.</p> - -<p>Garin, concentrated, watched the company come -toward him. Again there echoed the eve of his -knighthood, when through the darkness he had kept -vigil. But he kept vigil now a more awakened being, -with a wider reach and a richer knowledge.</p> - -<p>The train came toward him, and now he heard the -sound of it, the tread of horses, metallic noises, the -human voice, all subdued to a deep murmur as of an -incoming sea. This increased until single notes were -distinguishable. The form grew larger, then he -could see component forms. Music was being made, -he saw the great blue banners.... And still he knew -that all was a mightier and a brighter thing than -yesterday he had known.... Now he saw the -Princess of Roche-de-Frêne riding between Beauvoisin -and Stephen the Marshal.</p> - -<p>She passed the rock whereon he lay, and he saw a -great and high and bright soul.... It passed—all -passed. He felt the darkness, but then the starlight.</p> - -<p>He stayed yet an hour there in the cleft, with the -brown grass about him and overhead the sky like -sapphire. Then, descending the crag, he sought his -horse in the wood and, mounting, turned his face -toward Castel-Noir.</p> - -<p>That evening in the black tower Foulque would -discuss family fortunes, and how Castel-Noir might -be first recovered, then enlarged. Garin listened,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_367" id="Page_367">[367]</a></span> -spoke when the elder brother paused for him to -speak. It seemed that he wished somehow to better -the condition of tenants and serfs, to find and teach -better methods of living. Foulque jerked aside -from that. “We are good masters. Ask any one -without this hall!”</p> - -<p>“Good masters?... We may be. But—”</p> - -<p>Foulque struck at the fire with his crutch. “You -are a poet—I am a practical man. Let us leave -dreaming!... Raimbaut’s castle will be rebuilt by -the next of kin.”</p> - -<p>“Dreaming?... What is dreaming?”</p> - -<p>Foulque left his chair, and limped to and fro before -the huge fireplace. Garin from the settle corner -watched him. The light played over both and -reddened the ancient hall. “Garin,” said Foulque. -“knightly fame is good and fame of a poet is good, -and emirs’ ransoms are good—God knows they -are good! But when will you wed and so build our -house?”</p> - -<p>“Ah!” said Garin, “did you ever think, Foulque, -of how long may be time?”</p> - -<p>Foulque waved his hand. “You should not play -with it! You should think of the future! They say -that you love one whom you call the Fair Goal—”</p> - -<p>But Garin, rising, moved to a deep window, and -looking out, breathed the night. “There is the great -star in the arm of the cypress!... I used to see that, -when I lay in those hot towns of Paynimry.” Nor -would he speak again of that manner of building -Castel-Noir.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_368" id="Page_368">[368]</a></span></p> - -<p>The morrow came and went and the morrow and -that morrow’s morrow. December paced by and -gave the torch of time to January. January, a cold -and dark month, gave the torch to February, a brief -and windy one, March had it then, and he had ideas -in his head of birds and flowers. April came and the -world was green.</p> - -<p>The ravaging of the dragon was becoming in -Roche-de-Frêne an old thought. Throughout the -winter the Princess of Roche-de-Frêne and the able -people of her lands laboured to redeem well-being -and the conditions of growth. Plan and better plan, -faint success and greater success; and now when the -spring was coming, good ground beneath the feet! -The land began to smile. The town of Roche-de-Frêne, -the cathedral and the castle felt the warmth. -Bishop Ugo preached the Easter sermon, and he -preached a mighty and an eloquent one. You felt -lilies and roses come up through it.</p> - -<p>Ugo had said at Christmas-tide that he had never -doubted the triumph of the right. Questioned at -Candlemas, though very gently, by one of the hyperbold, -he had answered gravely that Father Eustace, -in confession, had acknowledged that he was not -certain as to whether Our Blessed Lady of Roche-de-Frêne -had indeed spoken to him. Pride had been -in his heart, and the demon himself might have -taken dazzling form and spoken! Father Eustace -for penance had been sent, barefoot and dumb, to a -remote monastery where in his cell he might gain -true vision. Easter-tide, Bishop Ugo flowered praise<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_369" id="Page_369">[369]</a></span> -of Roche-de-Frêne’s princess. That great lady took -it with her enigmatical smile.</p> - -<p>In the castle-garden Alazais watched the crocus -bloom, the hyacinth and the daffodil. Gilles de -Valence sang to her, and sometimes Raimon de -Saint-Rémy, or, when no troubadour was there, -Elias of Montaudon was brought upon the greensward -to sing other men’s verses. Knights came and -went. Her ladies made a bright half-ring about her, -and she and they and the knights and poets discussed -the world under the star of Love.</p> - -<p>Sometimes Audiart came into the garden, but not -often. There was much that yet was to be done.... -She was oftener in the town than in the castle, often -away from both, riding far and near in her domain, -to other towns and villages and towers. But as the -spring increased and the green leaves came upon the -trees, order was regained. The sap of life returned -to the veins that had been drained, time and place -knew again hope and power. The princess looked -upon a birthland that had lifted from a pit, and now -was sandalled and ready for further journeying. She -came oftener now to the garden, and at night, from her -chamber in the White Tower, she watched the stars.</p> - -<p>In the town whose roofs lay below her, the craftsmen -were back at their crafts. Again they were -dyeing scarlet and weaving fine webs and working in -leather and wax and metal and stone. Merchant and -trader renewed their life. Roche-de-Frêne once more -hummed as a hive that produced, not destroyed. -It produced values dense and small, but so it<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_370" id="Page_370">[370]</a></span> -learned of values beyond these. Presently the old -talk of liberty would spring up, not feared by this -princess. When, in late April, she held high court -and a great council, Thibaut Canteleu—Master -Mayor, clear-eyed and merry—sat, with two of -the town’s magistrates, in the council chamber.</p> - -<p>On the eve of that council Stephen the Marshal -spent an hour with the princess. She made him sit -beside her in the White Tower; she spoke to him at -length, in a low voice telling a story. Stephen listened -with his eyes held by hers, then, when she kept -silence, bowed his face upon his hands and sat so for -a time. At last he raised his head. “Mine is a plain -mind, my Lady Audiart,—only a faithful one! -There are many good words, and ‘friend’ is a right -good word, a high knight among them, and ‘friendship’ -is a noble fief. I take ‘friend’ and ‘friendship’ -for my wearing and my estate, my Lady Audiart—aye, -and I will wear them knightly, not cravenly, -with a melancholy heart! Friend to you and friend -to him, and Saint Michael my witness! loyal servant -to you both.”</p> - -<p>“Stephen, my friend,” answered the princess, -“you say true that great liking is a great knight, and -lasting friendship is a mighty realm! It plants its -own happiness in its own fields.”</p> - -<p>She rose, and standing with him at the window, -spoke of old things, old long memories that they had -in common, spoke of her father, Gaucelm the -Fortunate.</p> - -<p>The next day she held council, sitting on the dais<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_371" id="Page_371">[371]</a></span> -robed in blue, a gold circlet upon her head, facing -her barons and knights-banneret, churchmen who -held lands from her, and leaders of the townsmen. -That which she had to lay before them was the -matter of her marriage....</p> - -<p>At Castel-Noir the dark fir trees wore emeralds. -The stream had its loud spring music. Nor Foulque -nor Garin had been idle through the winter. Back to -the black tower and the hamlet had come their men -who had fought at Roche-de-Frêne—Foulque’s -men and the men who had come with Garin from -the land over the sea. Houses had to be built for -these—more fields ploughed and planted. Stables -had to be made larger. The road was bad that -led from the black tower to the nearest highway; -it was remade. When spring came Castel-Noir was -in better estate than ever before. Garin spoke of -what manner of priest they should bring in—and -of some clerk who might be given a house and who -could teach.</p> - -<p>Raimbaut the Six-fingered had for his fief been -man of Montmaure, but for it Montmaure had been -man of Roche-de-Frêne. Now, again, was it only -Roche-de-Frêne’s. Montmaure might look blackly -across from his own borders, but that was all.... -It seemed that, escheating to the ruling house, the -barony was not yet given, for service paid and to be -paid, to some lord who should rebuild the castle and -bring up the lands that now were waste.... Foulque -had hours of speculation as to that. In the hall, of<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_372" id="Page_372">[372]</a></span> -evenings, he looked out of the corners of his eyes -at Garin, reading or dreaming by the fire. Who had -done greater service, fought better, than Garin? If -the princess were truly wise—if she were grateful—</p> - -<p class="p2">Foulque spoke once on this matter to Garin, but -received so absolute a check that his tongue declined -to bring it forward again. None the less, his brain -kept revolving the notion. To add to Castel-Noir -the whole containing fief, from knight alone to become -baron, to keep the black tower but to build -besides a fair, strong castle—Who at Roche-de-Frêne, -or away from Roche-de-Frêne, had served -more fully than had Garin? Foulque thought with -a consuming impatience of how little he seemed to -care for wealth and honours.</p> - -<p>On the heel of such an hour as this with Foulque, -came Aimar de Panemonde. He came with the -sheen and beauty of the spring. Foulque saw him -from the tower window as he left the fir wood and -began to mount the winding road. Behind him were -four or five others. All rode noble horses, all were -richly clad. It came into Foulque’s head—from -where he knew not—that here was an envoy with -his company. The little troop seemed to him rich -and significant, despatched with knowledge, directed -to an end. At once Foulque connected that -with Garin—and why again he knew not, save that, -and despite his sluggishness in the matter of the -fief, fairy things did happen to Garin.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_373" id="Page_373">[373]</a></span></p> - -<p>Garin of the Golden Island met his brother-in-arms -without the castle gate. Aimar threw himself -from his horse. Foulque in the tower above -watched the two embrace, then limped down the -stair to meet the guest and order the household.... -And soon it seemed that Sir Aimar de Panemonde -might indeed be considered an envoy! The -Princess of Roche-de-Frêne would have Sir Garin -de Castel-Noir return to her court—commanded -his presence on the day of Saint Mark.</p> - -<p>There were three days to spare. Aimar, having -discharged his mission, spent them happily, as did -those who had ridden with him. Foulque made talk -of the court and the town until—and that was not -long—he found that, for some reason that he could -not discern, Aimar did not talk readily of these. -Ever Foulque wished guests of Castel-Noir to -be happy, was courteously minded toward them. -This one especially, seeing how great a friend to -Garin he had been and was. So Foulque followed -the lead of the younger men, and in the hall, after -supper, had his reward in stories of the land over -the sea—a thousand adventures not before drawn -from Garin. Aimar’s followers and as many Castel-Noir -men as could crowd into hall, came, too, to -listen.</p> - -<p>Three days went by. On the morning of the -fourth farewells were made. Garin and Aimar -passed out of the gate with their following and down -the winding road. With Garin was Rainier the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_374" id="Page_374">[374]</a></span> -squire, and two or three besides. Foulque and all -who might watched them go, took the backward-turning -wave of the knights’ hands, marked them -until they vanished in the fir wood. Foulque went -back to hall and began to day-dream of Garin and -that fief had that been Raimbaut’s.</p> - -<p>The two knights with their following rode through -the spring weather. Very sweet it was, earth and -sky more fair than might be told.... And so, in the -early afternoon, they came in sight of Roche-de-Frêne.</p> - -<p>It was holiday and festival. The people upon the -road seemed light-hearted. The scarred plain had -been helped, and now spring flung over it a mantle -of green. When they came to the hill of Roche-de-Frêne -the people had thickened about them; when -they entered by the western gate the town seemed -joyous. The folk were abroad and there was to be -made out laughter and singing. As they rode -through the streets they met again and yet again, -and at last continually, recognition. It had a nature -that might please the knightliest knight! The marvel -of the cathedral rose before them, and the gold -of the sunshine and the sweetness of the air took -from it a shading of awfulness but gave in return -benignancy. They mounted the high street, and now -the mighty shape of the castle increased. Sunlight -wrapped it, too, and above was the stair of the sky. -Black Tower and Eagle Tower, Red Tower and Lion -Tower and White Tower—and Garin saw the tree-tops -of the garden.... They crossed the moat, entered<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_375" id="Page_375">[375]</a></span> -between Red Tower and Lion Tower. Trumpets -were being sounded. Here, too, seemed festival. -They dismounted in the outer court—men of rank -came about them with the fairest welcome—they -were marshalled soon to a rich lodging. Nones were -ringing, the spring afternoon slipping away.</p> - -<p>An hour passed, another was half run. Garin of -the Golden Island, alone save for Rainier in the -room that had been given him, heard the knock at -the door. “Let him in,” he said to the squire, and -Pierol entered. The page gave his message. “Sir -Garin de Castel-Noir, the princess rests in the garden. -She would speak with you there.” Garin took -his mantle and followed.</p> - -<p>In the castle garden the fruit trees were abloom. -Their clear shadows lay on the sward while the -shadows of the taller trees struck against the enclosing -walls. Below the watch-tower there was a sheet -of daffodils. The many birds of the garden were -singing, and the bees yet hummed in the fruit trees. -But there was no gay throng other than these, or -other winged things, or the selves of the flowers.</p> - -<p>It was quiet in the garden, and at first view it -seemed a solitude. Then, as he came toward the -heart of it, he saw the princess, seated beneath the -great tree about which the garden was built. In -the droop and sweep of its boughs had been placed -a seat of marble finely wrought. Here she sat, robed -in blue, and wearing, held in place by a circlet of -gold, a veil threaded with gold and silver. But to-day -it did not hide her face.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_376" id="Page_376">[376]</a></span></p> - -<p>As he came near, “Greeting, friend!” she said, -and her voice was thrilling music.</p> - -<p>Garin would have bent his knee. But, “No!” she -said, “do not do that! That is not to be done again -between you and me.” She rose from the marble -seat. She stood in flowing robes, on her head the -gold circlet of sovereignty, and she looked a mighty -princess, knowing her own mind, guiding her own -action, freeing her own spirit, unlocking always new -treasures of power and love! She came close to him, -stood equal with him. Their eyes met, and if the -princess sat in hers, the prince sat in his. “Do you -know why I have brought you here?” she said: “I -have brought you here, Garin of the Golden Island, -to ask you if you will marry me?”</p> - -<p>... In midsummer, on the Eve of Saint John, they -were wed in the cathedral, with great music, pomp, -and joy. Afterwards they knelt before the shrine of -Our Lady of Roche-de-Frêne, and there were people -who said that it was then that the Blessed Image’s -lips moved and there issued the words “Peace and -Happiness.” Going, the two passed the pillars raised -by Gaucelm of the Star, and coming to the tomb of -Gaucelm the Fortunate laid flowers there.... But -when their own long reign closed, their land held -them in memory as Audiart and Garin the Wise.</p> - - -<p class="pc4 mid">THE END</p> -</div> - -</div> - - - - - - - -<pre> - - - - - -End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of The Fortunes of Garin, by Mary Johnston - -*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE FORTUNES OF GARIN *** - -***** This file should be named 53394-h.htm or 53394-h.zip ***** -This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: - http://www.gutenberg.org/5/3/3/9/53394/ - -Produced by Giovanni Fini, Charlene Taylor and the Online -Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net (This -file was produced from images generously made available -by The Internet Archive) - -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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