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diff --git a/old/63544-h/63544-h.htm b/old/63544-h/63544-h.htm deleted file mode 100644 index 36cf4b7..0000000 --- a/old/63544-h/63544-h.htm +++ /dev/null @@ -1,14940 +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" /> - <title>The Red Saint</title> - <link rel="coverpage" href="images/cover.jpg"/> - <meta name="cover" content="images/cover.jpg" /> - <meta name="DC.Title" content="The Red Saint"/> - <meta name="DC.Creator" content="Warwick Deeping"/> - <meta name="DC.Language" content="en"/> - <meta name="DC.Created" content="1909"/> - <meta name="Pubdate" content="1909"/> - <meta name="DC.Subject" content="fiction, adventure"/> - <meta name="Tags" content="fiction, adventure"/> - <meta name="generator" content="fpgen 4.62b"/> - <style type="text/css"> - body { margin-left:8%;margin-right:10%; } - .it { font-style:italic; } - .sc { font-variant:small-caps; } - p { text-indent:0; margin-top:0.5em; margin-bottom:0.5em; - text-align: justify; } - div.lgc { } - div.lgl { } - div.lgc p { text-align:center; text-indent:0; margin-top:0; margin-bottom:0; } - div.lgl p { text-indent: -17px; margin-left:17px; margin-top:0; margin-bottom:0; } - div.lgp { - display:inline-block; - text-align: left; - } - - div.lgp p { - text-align:left; - margin-top:0; - margin-bottom:0; - } - - .poetry-container { - text-align:center; - } - - h1 { - text-align:center; - font-weight:normal; - page-break-before: always; - font-size:1.2em; margin:2em auto 1em auto - } - - hr.tbk { border:none; border-bottom:1px solid black; width:30%; margin-left:35%; margin-right:35%; } - hr.tbk100{ border:none; border-bottom:1px solid silver; width:90%; margin-top:2em; margin-bottom:2em; text-align:center; margin-left:5%; margin-right:5% } - hr.pbk { border:none; border-bottom:1px solid silver; width:100%; margin-top:2em; margin-bottom:2em } - .figcenter { - text-align:center; - margin:1em auto; - page-break-inside: avoid; - } - - .nobreak { page-break-before: avoid; } - p.line { text-indent:0; margin-top:0; margin-bottom:0; } - div.lgp p.line0 { text-indent:-3em; margin:0 auto 0 3em; } - .pindent { margin-top:0; margin-bottom:0; text-indent:1.5em; } - .noindent { margin-top:0; margin-bottom:0; text-indent:0; } - .hang { padding-left:1.5em; text-indent:-1.5em; } - </style> - <style type="text/css"> - h1 { font-size: 1.5em; font-weight: bold;} - .sub-head { font-size: 0.8em;font-weight: normal; } - .poetry-container { margin-top:1em; margin-bottom:1em } - </style> - </head> - <body> - - -<pre> - -The Project Gutenberg EBook of The Red Saint, by Warwick Deeping - -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 Red Saint - -Author: Warwick Deeping - -Release Date: October 24, 2020 [EBook #63544] - -Language: English - -Character set encoding: UTF-8 - -*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE RED SAINT *** - - - - -Produced by Mardi Desjardins & the online Distributed -Proofreaders Canada team at https://www.pgdpcanada.net -from page images generously made available by the Internet -Archive (https://archive.org) - - - - - - -</pre> - -<div class='figcenter'> -<img src='images/cover.jpg' alt='' id='iid-0000' style='width:60%;height:auto;'/> -</div> - -<hr class='pbk'/> - -<p class='line0' style='text-align:center;margin-top:1.5em;margin-bottom:1.5em;font-size:2em;'>THE RED SAINT</p> - -<div class='lgc' style=''> <!-- rend=';' --> -<p class='line'> </p> -<p class='line'> </p> -<p class='line0'>TO</p> -<p class='line'> </p> -<p class='line0' style='font-size:1.3em;'>CAPTAIN AND MRS. MERRILL</p> -<p class='line'> </p> -<p class='line0'>I DEDICATE THIS BOOK</p> -<p class='line0'>WITH ALL FAITH AND AFFECTION</p> -<p class='line'> </p> -<p class='line'> </p> -</div> <!-- end rend --> - -<hr class='pbk'/> - -<div class='lgc' style='page-break-before: always;'> <!-- rend=';' --> -<p class='line'> </p> -<p class='line0' style='font-size:2em;font-weight:bold;'>THE RED SAINT</p> -<p class='line'> </p> -<p class='line'> </p> -<p class='line0'>By</p> -<p class='line0' style='font-size:1.3em;font-weight:bold;'>WARWICK DEEPING</p> -<p class='line0'><span class='it'>Author of “Sorrell and Son,” etc.</span></p> -<p class='line'> </p> -<div class='figcenter'> -<img src='images/i005.jpg' alt='' id='iid-0001' style='width:15%;height:auto;'/> -</div> -<p class='line'> </p> -<p class='line0' style='font-size:1.3em;'>CASSELL AND COMPANY, LTD</p> -<p class='line0'>London, Toronto, Melbourne and Sydney</p> -<p class='line'> </p> -</div> <!-- end rend --> - -<p class='line0' style='text-align:center;'>First Published <span class='it'>April</span> 1909</p> - -<hr class='pbk'/> - -<p class='line0' style='text-align:center;margin-top:1.5em;margin-bottom:1.5em;font-size:2em;font-weight:bold;page-break-before: always;'>THE RED SAINT</p> - -<div><h1 class='nobreak'>CHAPTER I</h1></div> - -<p class='pindent'>When Denise of the Hermitage went down to draw -water at the spring at the edge of the beech wood, she -saw the light of a fire flashing out through the blue -gloom of the April dusk. It was far away—that fire, -almost on the horizon, a knot of tawny colour seen -between the dark slopes of two high hills. Yet though -it was so far away Denise could see the long flames -moving, sometimes shooting upwards, or bending and -sweeping towards the ground.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Denise stood and watched these flames that waved -and flickered yonder through the dusk where the smoke -spread out between the hills into a kind of pearly haze. -It was so still under the boughs of the great beeches -that the distant fire seemed strange and ghostly, burning -without a sound. The little pool where Denise had filled -her pitcher was not more silent, the pool fed by an invisible -spring, and believed to be miraculous and holy.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Yet though those far flames were so silent, Denise -could set a sound to them, a crackling roar that would -be very real to those who looked on the thing as on a -sacrifice. There would be many watchers on the hills -that night, sullen and silent folk to whom that blaze -would speak like a war cresset teased by the wind on -some great lord’s tower. Peter of Savoy’s riders, those -hired “spears” from over the sea, Gascons, Flemings, -Bretons, were out to keep the King’s peace in the Rapes -of Pevensey and of Hastings. Denise knew that private -war had been let loose, for had she not heard from the -priest of Goldspur, and from Aymery the manor lord, -that many of the lesser gentry and the Cinque Port towns -were calling for Earl Simon? The pot that had long -been simmering, had boiled over of a sudden. And -those who had scalded toes had only their own perversity -to thank.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>In such a fashion began the Barons’ war in many -a quiet corner of the land. Lawyers might orate and -scribble, but when men quarrelled over a great issue, -and the heart of a people was full of bitterness and -discontent, the rush was towards the primitive ordeal -of the sword. “God—and the King!”—“Earl Simon -and the Charter!” These two rallying cries cut off -brother from brother, and father from son. There had -been years of verbiage, oath breaking, famine, peculation, -and cynical corruption in high places. The law -was no law, the King’s oath a byword in brothels and -in taverns. The great Father—even the Pope—had had -both fists in the English money pots. Poitevins, Provençals, -and Italians had scrambled together. The -country was sick of it. Men who were in grim earnest -hastened to get to blows.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>As Denise, half hermitess, half saint, went back -through the beech wood, the fire, like a great red brazier, -still shone out on her, latticed by the black boughs, -or hidden for a moment behind a tree bole. And though -the wood was as still and solemn as a temple, it seemed -full of a hushed and listening dread, waiting for the -wind that should come roaring through the tops of the -trees. Unrest was upon the hills, and in the deeps of -the valleys. Denise felt it as she might have felt the -nearness of thunder on a sultry night in June.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>But if no wind stirred in the wood that night, there -were other sounds more human and more passionate -than the voice of the wind. Denise had said her prayers -in her cell when the dead leaves under the beech trees -whispered with the moving of many feet. Indistinct -figures went in and out among the tree boles, the muttering -of voices mingling with the rustle of the leaves. A -full moon had risen, and begun to throw long slants of -light into the darkness of the wood, outlining the black -branches, and splashing the trunks of the trees with -silver. In and out, through the still moonlight and the -shadows, came the moving figures whose feet filled the -whole wood with the shiver of dead leaves.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>They straggled along by twos and threes, some silent -and morose, others talking with the quick muttering -intensity of men who have given and taken blows. A -darker core moved along the woodland path in the -midst of this scattered company. Men were carrying a -litter of boughs piled upon the trunks of two young ash -trees. The moonlight played intermittently upon the -men about the litter, showing so many white faces, -intent and silent, and a body that lay upon the bed of -boughs with a shield covering its face.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>A breadth of clear sky in the thick of the wood showed -them that they were close on the glade where Denise -of the Forest had her cell. The place was sacred and -full of mystery to the woodlanders of those parts, and -the scattered figures drew together under a tree where -the path came out of the wood into the glade. Only -the litter of boughs and the men with it went forward -into the moonlight; the rest held aloof like dogs left -by their master at the door of a church.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The men who carried the litter set it down outside -the gate in the wattle fence that shut in Denise’s garden. -There was some whispering, but the men’s voices were -no longer harsh and angry. Grimbald, the parish priest, -sent them back into the wood to wait. Two men remained -beside the litter, one standing a little apart with -a cloak wrapped round him, and a hood drawn forward -over his face.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Grimbald, the priest from Goldspur village, opened -the gate, and went up the path paved with rough, flat -stones that led to the cell. Denise had heard the sound -of voices, and the rustling of the dead leaves in the -wood. Grimbald’s voice warned her that they were -friends.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Sancta Denise,” he said, crossing himself, “<span class='it'>ora -pro nobis</span>.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The door opened, under the broad black eaves of -the hermitage. Denise stood there on the threshold, -wearing a grey cloak that shone white in the light of -the moon. Her hair clouded past her shoulders to her -knees. It was miraculous hair, red as rust in the shade, -but burning in the sunlight with a sheen of gold. Denise -herself was miraculous, and this beech wood of hers -was said to be full of many marvels. People who came -for holy water from her pool, or to be treated by her -for sickness, swore that they had seen a moving radiance, -like a marsh fire, in the wood, and heard the voices of -angels and the murmur of their wings. Denise was -famed for her powers of healing. She knew all the -precious herbs, and the touch of her hands could bring -a blessing.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Grimbald told her the news.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“It is Waleran de Monceaux’s lad,” he said. “Come -and see, Sanctissima, whether God will be merciful.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>She bent forward and looked into Grimbald’s face.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“There is war with us—then?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Grimbald spread his arms.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Peter of Savoy sent out his free-lances from Pevensey. -They were too strong for us. The lad was -shot through the body when they drove us into the -woods.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I saw a fire—about dusk.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Waleran’s hall—and outhouses! That was the -end of it.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>He stood aside, and Denise went down the path, -her bare feet making no sound upon the stones. Aymery, -lord of the manor of Goldspur, knelt in the grass beside -the litter holding the lad’s cold hands. Waleran still -stood aloof, his face hidden under his hood. No one -spoke to him. They left him alone, knowing his mood, -and the manner of man that he was.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Denise went on her knees beside the litter, her two -hands putting back the masses of her hair. Aymery -lifted the shield from the lad’s face. The sleeve of his -hauberk brushed against Denise’s cloak. She glanced -round at him, and their eyes smiled faintly at one -another.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“We brought the boy to you. The arrow drove -right through him. You can feel the point under his -tunic.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Denise laid a hand over the lad’s heart. There was -not a flicker of movement there, but she could feel the -arrow’s head standing out a hand’s breadth beyond the -ribs. The lad must have died very quickly.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“He is dead,” she said to the man at her side.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Aymery was staring at the boy’s face. He turned, -and glanced meaningly at the figure that stood apart in -silent isolation.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“It is Waleran,” he said in a whisper, “he would -not believe the worst.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Denise gave a little shudder of pity. Aymery turned, -and met her eyes.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Pray for the boy, Denise. What is death, but a -miracle! And an hour ago——”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>She spread her hands helplessly.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Lord, death is beyond me; I am not blessed with -so much power. Someone must tell him.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“The pity of it!”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>And she echoed him.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“The pity of it!”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>A compassionate humility made her bow her head -over the rough litter, for there was no place for the -smaller remembrance of self in the conscious awe of -her own helplessness. Denise had healed sick people, -but she who could play the lady of healing, knew herself -human in the presence of death.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Tell him,” she said, “it is almost shame to me that -you should have brought the boy here.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Aymery covered the lad’s face again with the shield.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Pray for Waleran,” he said.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“For the living rather than the dead.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Aymery rose and joined Grimbald the priest, who -was standing by the gate. Denise still knelt beside the -litter, holding the dead boy’s hands. And if compassion -could have given him life, compassion for that silent -man who stood aloof, life might have flowed miraculously -from Denise’s body, and spread like fire into the limbs -of the dead.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Grimbald left Aymery, and crossed the grass to where -Waleran stood, Waleran that sturdy man with the fierce -red shock of hair. Waleran had been the first mesne -lord in those parts to bristle his mane against Count -Peter of Savoy. This hardihood had lost him his only -child, and made a bonfire of his home, though he would -not believe at first that the boy was dead.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Aymery of Goldspur turned again to Denise. He -could see that she was praying, and his eyes, that were -frosty with the cold anger of a strong man helpless in -the face of death, flashed suddenly as he saw the moonlight -touching Denise’s hair.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Grimbald had Waleran by the shoulders. They heard -a short, sharp oath scatter the priest’s whisperings as a -puff of wind scatters a handful of feathers.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Dead!”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>There was the sound of heavy breathing.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Let me alone! Am I a fool of a girl?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Patience, brother.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Patience be cursed! What is the use of an idiot -saint if an arrow between the ribs is too much for her?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Denise let the boy’s hands fall; Aymery saw her -bow her head, and heard her whisper words that he could -not catch. Then Waleran came forward, swinging his -arms as though to keep off Grimbald who towered beside -him like a great ship. Waleran stopped at the foot of -the litter, and stood staring at the shield that covered -the dead boy’s face. Some impulse drove him to his -knees, and he began to feel for the arrow, breathing -heavily through set teeth.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Denise’s nearness seemed to come between him and -the savage tenderness of a dog for its dead whelp. Her -humility and her compassion were not tuned to the cry -of nature.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Get up,” he said. “This is my affair.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>He leant forward, and pushed her back with a rough -thrust of the open hand. Aymery caught Denise, and -drew her aside.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Forgive——”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>His arms lingered about her like the arms of a lover.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Lord, I understand.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“That arrow has stricken two hearts.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Her eyes looked into Aymery’s as he let her go.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“God have pity,” she said.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Waleran had broken off the head of the arrow. He -held it up in the moonlight, and his hood fell back from -his face. The three who watched him saw his face -contorted with laughter, though no sound came from -the open mouth.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>He ran the arrow’s head through his cloak, as a woman -pins her tunic with a splinter of bone.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Here is a keepsake,” he said. “Lord, but I shall -cherish it! They have lit a candle for the boy, yonder. -Some day I shall hang a bell on a rope, and ring him a -passing.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>He scrambled up, swaggering, and shaking his -shoulders. It was his way of carrying the burden that -the night had laid on him. He shouted to the men, -roughly, and they came out from the shadows of the -trees.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>When they had lifted the litter, Waleran jerked -himself on to it, and putting the shield aside, sat fingering -his boy’s face.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“A puff of wind, and the candle is out,” he said.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The litter swayed under his weight.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Spill me, you fools, and I shall have something to -say to you. Off with you. To-morrow we must put -this poor pigeon under the grass.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The men moved away, and Grimbald would have -followed them, but Waleran ordered him back.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Have I nothing better to do than to cut my own -throat!” he said. “Shifts and cassocks are no good -for me. The puppy is mine, by God! Let no one -meddle between him and me.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Grimbald followed them no farther, and heard the -swish of their feet die away through the dead leaves into -the darkness.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>In an hour from their first coming the beech wood -was silent and empty, and Denise’s cell lay with its dark -thatch like an islet in the midst of a quiet mere. Not -a ripple of sound played over the surface of the night. -Aymery and Grimbald had gone to warn their own -people that death was abroad on the White Horse. And -Denise, sitting on her bed, wakeful, and filled with a -great pity for Waleran and the lad, felt that the stealthy -glamour of the moonlight was cold and unreal. If her -compassion followed Waleran, a feeling more deep and -more mysterious followed Aymery under the boughs of -the beeches. Yet this feeling of Denise’s was as miraculous -as the moonlight which she thought so cold and -mute.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The two men made their way through the wood by -a broad green ride, and stood listening where the heathland -began for any sound that might steal out of the vast -silence of the night. Grimbald’s great head, with its -gaunt, eagle face, the colour of smoked oak, had the -full moon behind it for a halo. Aymery of Goldspur -stood a little below him on the hillside, leaning on his -sword. His thoughts were back among the trees about -Denise’s glade, those towering trees whose boughs seemed -hung with the stars.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Below them stretched wastes of whin and heather, -hills black with forests, valleys full of moonlit mist. -They could see the sea shining in the distance, a whole -land beneath them, ghostly, strange, and still.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“It is all quiet yonder.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Grimbald’s head was like the head of a hawk, alert -and very watchful.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“They have done enough for one night,” he said.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“To make us keep troth with the King!”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Both were silent for a moment. Grimbald spoke -the thought that was uppermost in Aymery’s mind.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“It is no longer safe for the girl alone, yonder,” he -said.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Aymery, that man with the iron mouth and the square -chin, and eyes the colour of the winter sea, spread his -shoulders as an archer spreads them before drawing a -six-foot bow.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I will see to it,” he said quietly. “Nothing must -happen to Denise.”</p> - -<div><h1 class='nobreak'>CHAPTER II</h1></div> - -<p class='pindent'>The little red spider of a man who pattered along beside -Gaillard’s horse, looked up from time to time into the -Gascon’s face, and thought what a great pageant life -must be to a soldier who had such a body and so much -pay. For the little red spider was a cripple, and nothing -more glorious than a spy, a thing that crawled like a -harvest bug, and might have been squashed without -ceremony under the Gascon’s fist. As for Gaillard he -was a very great man, cock and captain of Count Peter’s -chickens, those most meek birds who scratched up obstinate -worms, and kept their lord’s land clean of -grubs.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>They were marching back to Pevensey, bows and -spears, along the flat road over the marshes, with the -downs in the west a dull green against the April sky. -Waleran de Monceaux had been chastened in proper -fashion, a chastening that might calm the turbulent -tempers of his neighbours. Of what use were such castles -as Pevensey, Lewes, Arundel, and Bramber, to the King -at such a crisis, if the great lords did not put pettifogging -law aside and coerce as much of the country as they could -cover with their swords? Men were tired of words and -of charters. “Let us come to grips,” said they, “and -not quarrel over parchment and seals.” And the great -lords were wise in their necessity, kept—each in his -castle—a dragon at his service, a dragon that could be -sent out to scorch up those who had the temerity to -threaten the King.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The little red spider thought Messire Gaillard a fine -fellow. He had such limbs on him, such a voice, such a -cheerful way of bullying everyone. The Gascon might -have been made of brown wire, he was so restless, so -sinewy, so alert; a rust-coloured man with red and uneasy -eyes, a harsh skin blotched with freckles, hair that curled -like a negro’s, and a big mouth insolent under the aggressive -tusks of its moustache. A vain man, too, as his -dress and his harness showed, a man who put oil on his -hair, wore many rings, and had a quick eye for a woman. -He was just the lusty, headstrong animal, a born fighter, -and a bully by instinct, inflammable, self-sufficient, a -babbler, and a singer of love songs.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The waters of the bay were covered with purple -shadows, and the marshlands brilliant as green samite -when Gaillard’s men came to the western gate of the -castle, and rode two by two with drooped spears into the -great outer bailey closed in by the old Roman walls. -Gaillard came last, with the spy pattering beside his -horse. The men went to their quarters, rough pent -houses that had been built for them along the northern -wall, for there was not room enough in Peter of Savoy’s -new castle within a castle for all those hired men from -over the sea.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Pevensey would have astonished any rough Northumbrian -baron, or the fiery Marcher Lords who fought -the Welsh. For Peter of Savoy was a southerner, a -compeer of the King’s in his love of colour and of music. -To dig a moat and build white towers was not enough -for him, and the spirit of Provence had emptied itself -within the Roman wall. A great part of the space had -become a garden, shut in with thickets of cypresses and -bays. The roses of Provence bloomed there in June. -Winding alley ways went in and out, short swarded, and -overhung by rose trees. There were vines on trellises, -and banks of fragrant herbs. In the thick of a knoll of -cypresses Count Peter kept two leopards in a cage, yellow-eyed -beasts which glided silently to and fro.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Gaillard, skirting the cypresses of the pleasaunce, had -his eyes on the window of the great tower where Peter of -Savoy loved to sit playing chess with Dan Barnabo his -chaplain, or listening to a woman singing to the lute. -The lutanist sang to others as well as to Count Peter. -Gaillard the Gascon knew the twitter of her strings, -better perhaps, than Peter of Savoy himself.</p> - - - <div class='poetry-container' style=''> - <div class='lgp'> <!-- rend=';' --> -<div class='stanza-outer'> -<p class='line0'>“Give me a red rose, my desire,</p> -<p class='line0'> And a kiss on the mouth for an <span class='it'>Ave</span>.”</p> -</div> -</div></div> <!-- end poetry block --><!-- end rend --> - -<p class='pindent'>The words were those of Etoile of the Lute, and -Gaillard hummed them under the shade of the cypresses -as he rode towards the inner gate. But some hand -threw a clod of turf at him that morning, and threw it so -cleverly that the thing hit Gaillard on the ear, and -spattered his blue surcoat over with soil.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The Gascon turned sharply in the saddle, and saw -a white hand showing between two cypress trees, and a -wrist that betrayed the golden threads embroidering a -woman’s sleeve.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>A voice laughed at him.</p> - - - <div class='poetry-container' style=''> - <div class='lgp'> <!-- rend=';' --> -<div class='stanza-outer'> -<p class='line0'>“Throw me a clod of turf, my desire,</p> -<p class='line0'> Give me a blow on the ear for a greeting!”</p> -</div> -</div></div> <!-- end poetry block --><!-- end rend --> - -<p class='pindent'>The arm put the boughs aside, and a face appeared, -wreathed by the cypress sprays, a woman’s face, white, -mischievous, and alluring. Her black hair was bound -up in a golden net. She showed her teeth at Gaillard, -and put out the tip of a red tongue.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Can I throw straight, dear lord?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>He turned his horse, glanced at the window in the -tower, and then laughed back at her, opening his mouth -wide like the beak of a hungry bird.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Better at a man’s heart, than at his head, dear -lady.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“A Gascon has more head than heart, my friend.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“And a long sword, and a longer tongue!”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>She tilted her chin, two black eyes laughing above -a short, impudent nose, and a hard, red mouth.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Go and have your gossip with good Peter. Barnabo -has beaten him twice at chess, and he was ready to throw -the board at me. The leopards are better tempered.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Gaillard snapped his fingers.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I will be a leopard,” he said. “Wait till I have -washed the dust off. Peter always plays until he wins.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The white face disappeared behind the cypress boughs, -and Gaillard rode on to his quarters, ready to wash the -dust of the road away with wine and water, and thinking -of Etoile, Count Peter’s lutanist and lady. She was a -Gascon also from the land of the Garonne. Etoile and -Gaillard were excellent friends, especially when the -Savoyard was playing chess.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>There were peacocks strutting in the garden, sunning -their gorgeous tails, when Gaillard fresh from the bath -and the hands of his man, went out to Etoile among the -cypresses. At the window above Peter of Savoy had -his head over the chess-board. The game was such a -passion with him, that his people left him in the throes -of it, not even Etoile being allowed to touch her lute. -The Savoyard, chin on the palm of his left hand, with -Barnabo opposite him, had not so much as noticed -Gaillard’s return. The men had ridden to their quarters, -but Peter’s long fingers loitered over the board, and his -ears might have been stuffed with wool. Barnabo, -who had won two games, had enough worldly wisdom -behind his smooth, Italian face to know that the time -had come to put his lord in a happier temper. Barnabo -always rose from the board a loser. It was part of his -policy to pique the great man by defeating him at first, -that he might delight him the more with the inevitable -revenge.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“You are too subtle for me, sire,” he would confess. -“I can begin by winning, that is easy. When I have -beaten you, you laugh, and turn to show me what a -child I am.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The chess-players were so intent above, that Gaillard -and the lute girl Etoile, had the half hour safely to themselves. -They were blood cousins—these two Gascons, -and yet nearer of kin in the intimate ambition that had -sent them hunting in a strange land. How the Lady -of the Peacocks had persuaded Peter of Savoy into -loving her would be a tale fit for a French song. She -could do very much as she pleased with him so long as -he was not hanging his dyed beard over the chess-board. -As for her and Gaillard, they understood one another. -The man was driven at times to be rash and impetuous. -Etoile was strange and fierce enough at a crisis to keep -Gaillard’s galloping passion from breaking its own neck.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>These two Gascons had a common enemy, Barnabo -the Italian, who was as clever as Etoile, and far more -clever than Gaillard. The chaplain was a smooth man, -a man who smiled when he was snubbed, and put the -insult carefully into the counting-house of his memory. -There was sometimes a glitter in his eyes, like the gleam -of a knife hidden in a sleeve. He hated Etoile, and Etoile -the woman, knew why he hated her. Barnabo would -have had her for an accomplice, the Queen on the chess-board -to play against Count Peter. Etoile had struck -Barnabo across the face, and the chess-board and the -lute had been at feud with one another. Peter of Savoy -knew nothing of all this. Both Barnabo and Etoile were -too wise to throw soot at one another, unless the -chance should come when one could be safely blackened -without so much as a pinch of slander falling upon the -other.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>It was of Barnabo they talked that morning, hidden -by the cypresses, Etoile standing by the leopards’ cage, -the great beasts fawning against the bars, and letting her -stroke their heads. There seemed some sympathy between -her and the two sleek, sinuous cats. The voice and the -eyes of Etoile cast a spell upon them. They would purr -and rub against the bars when she came near.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The Lady of the Peacocks told Gaillard a piece of -news that made the man’s eyes grow more hard and -restless.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“He had better not meddle,” he said; “or I will -twist his neck.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Etoile snapped her fingers.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“You are a great fool, my Gaillard, Barnabo is not -so rough and clumsy. I know the man.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“But the rat is nibbling at our cheese!”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“What else can he do, the Savoyard cannot go to -bed with him. A man is at a disadvantage. He can -only call names.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Behind our backs, my desire!”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Over the chess-board, perhaps.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Gaillard put a hand through the bars, and scratched a -leopard’s head.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“It is a pity,” he said, “that we cannot shut Barnabo -up with these two innocents when they are hungry. -They would play a pretty game with him, a game of -knucklebones, with nothing left afterwards but some -rags, two sandals, and a brain box.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Etoile laughed, and then looked shrewd.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“There are other people who would eat up Dan -Barnabo, people in the woods—yonder. Every man has -a foolish corner in his heart. If Barnabo asks you how -the country seems, tell him the folk are as frightened as -mice.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Very lusty mice, my desire! Call them pole-cats.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Pole-cats may serve as well as leopards. Be careful -of that window in the tower; Barnabo has quick eyes. -Go up now and see how the game goes.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Peter of Savoy and the chaplain still had the chess-board -between them when Gaillard went up to the room -in the tower. The window, widely splayed, had painted -medallions in its frames. A song book and a lute lay -on a red cushion, with a gaze-hound curled on the seat.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The third game was nearly at an end, and Peter of -Savoy was rubbing his pointed beard, and chuckling -inwardly as he hung over the board. Barnabo brooded, -his puzzled, hesitating hands flattering the strategy of -his lord and opponent. Gaillard sat down on the window -seat to wait. Peter of Savoy was to triumph. Therefore -the world went well.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>A resigned sigh from Barnabo, the tap of a piece on -the board, a shuffling of Count Peter’s feet, and the end -came.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The great man sat back, laughed in his chaplain’s -face, and turned a sharp and self-satisfied profile to -Gaillard.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“So you are back, my Gascon. All our games have -gone well, have they? See—I am about to steal his -lady.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Gaillard leant forward to watch.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Since he is a priest, sire, you are saving him from -great temptation.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Peter of Savoy laughed, but for some reason Barnabo -looked up at the Gascon sharply.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The game was lost and won, and Gaillard had told -his news. Peter of Savoy had picked up the lute, and -was twanging the strings complacently. Barnabo still -pored over the chess-board as though to discover how -and where he had been beaten. He was a clever artist -in the conception of flattery, yet he was on the alert -while Peter of Savoy and Gaillard talked.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Quiet as lambs, to be sure. That will be good -news for our friend here. You smoked Waleran out like -a fox out of a hole. Excellent Gascon! Fire purifies, -so thought the Greeks. There are the folk at Goldspur -to be seized—unless they come in with halters round their -necks.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The great man hummed a passage from a favourite -song.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Barnabo would not be persuaded,” he said, half-closing -his eyes slyly. “You must know, my Gaillard, -that Barnabo is a man with a hot conscience. He has -learnt six words of English—what does that matter? -So many benefices to be served—in Latin; so many -women to be shrived! Even when the wolves are out—Barnabo -will not neglect his duties!”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The Italian was imperturbable and debonair.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I have a charm against all wolves,” he said, looking -at Gaillard out of the corner of his eyes.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Your sanctity, Father, to be sure. Most excellent -St. Francis, the hawks even perch on your shoulders. -Barnabo will mount his mule and ride out to comfort -the sick, whatever I, his lord, may say.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Gaillard took the gaze-hound up into his lap.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“He will have nothing to fear there, now. I will -answer for that.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Barnabo’s eyes were studying Gaillard’s face. He -smiled, and began to gather up the chess-men.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“After the sword come the Cross and the mass book,” -he said. “You will not quarrel with my conscience, sire, -if I ride out to-morrow.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Who—in Christendom—is worth the labour of a -quarrel? Command your friends, and tread upon your -enemies. Go out, and heal the sick, when the husbands -are not at home.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Etoile, who had been listening at the door, pulled -Gaillard into a dark corner on the stairs when he came -out to see to the guards.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“So Barnabo is going a-love-making,” she said. -“Good. Perhaps he will not come back again.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>And she sang to Peter of Savoy that night, a desirable -woman whose face betrayed no care.</p> - -<div><h1 class='nobreak'>CHAPTER III</h1></div> - -<p class='pindent'>Denise was so much the saint and the Lady of the -Goldspur woods that the country folk had almost ceased -to wonder whence she had come, and what her past had -been. She was Sancta Denise to them, a woman to -whom they went when they were sick or in trouble, who -came and prayed for them, and smiled on their children -with her miraculous eyes. All the woodland folk in the -hundreds round looked on Denise as a saint, a child of -mystery who dwelt up yonder amid the great beech trees -under the clouds. Offerings were left before her gate, -milk, bread, eggs, and herbs, the offerings of the poor. -If there was digging to be done, or the grass to be scythed -in the glade, some of Aymery’s villeins would be there at -dawn, working like brown gnomes in the dusk of the -breaking day. Four times a year a pedlar brought her -the gold thread for her orfrays work, for Denise had -wonderful hands, and her embroidery had been worn -by queens. The money that she earned Denise spent -among the poor, and she might have walked from Rye -to Shoreham, and no Sussex man would have laid hands -upon her, save to touch her gown for a blessing.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Olivia, Aymery’s mother, alone had known Denise’s -history, and Olivia was dead. Some had said that she -was the “love child” of a great lady, others a “ward” -who had fled from the King’s court rather than be married -to some creature who had offered the King money. But -Denise was Denise, and her past was of no account, -though any hind could have sworn that she was no -peasant’s child. The cell in the beech wood had been -built for her by Dame Olivia, and the ground about it -turned into a garden. Denise had become part of the -woodland life, a tender and mysterious figure that threw -a glamour over the hearts of all.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Her coming had been soon after the great famine, -when the crops had failed after a wet summer. Death -had passed over the land like a plague, and in the towns -the dead had lain for days unburied. The famine had -left sickness behind it, sick women, and sick babes at -the breast, as though the whole countryside had grown -feeble for lack of bread. Denise had come down from -her cell in the beech wood, a veritable Lady of Compassion. -It was not the bread that she had given, but -the pity and the tenderness that had enshrined her in the -hearts of all the people. It was as though she had magic -power, a glory given of God and the Virgin. Men soon -spoke of miracles. Sick children were brought to her, -and water taken from her holy spring. The abbots and -priors of the south heard of her, and more than one -“house” considered the value that might be set upon -a saint.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Perhaps Denise’s power lay largely in her youth, -for she was no ulcerous and lean recluse, but a woman -in the morning of her beauty, a beauty that was strange -and elfin-like, rich as an autumn in red leaf. She had -but to look at men, and they felt an awe of her; at -children, and they came to her like birds to a witch. -The hair under the grey hood had the colour of copper, -with tinges of red and of gold. Her eyes were between -amber and the brown of a woodland pool, her skin so -clear and white, despite the sun and the wind, that men -believed her heart could be seen shining like a red gem -beneath. Denise was tall, and broad across the bosom. -Her fingers were so long, and slim, and white, that the -superstitious believed that pearls might drop from them, -and that not even the brown soil of her garden could -cling to those miraculous hands.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Denise carried her pitcher to the spring the morning -after they had brought Waleran’s boy to her with an -arrow through his heart. She stripped herself at the -pool, and washed her body, scooping up the water in her -palms, her hair knotted over her neck. Denise’s naked -figure might have stood as the symbol of her womanhood, -clean, comely, unshadowed by self-consciousness. It -was part of the infinite mystery of things, a mystery -that dwelt in Denise’s heart, and gave her power over -women and over men.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Her brown eyes were sad that morning as she slipped -on her white shift and her grey gown, and went back -under the beech trees to her cell. With the fragrance -of the wild flowers and the dew came the consciousness -of the rougher world within that world of hers. She -remembered the flames of the night before, Waleran’s -dead boy, the savage anguish of the man breaking out -into bitterness and laughter. What more might not -happen in the deeps of the woods? Denise was no -ignorant child, she had lived in another world before -Olivia had built her the cell under the Goldspur beeches.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Denise said her prayers, worked awhile in her garden, -and then brought out her orfrays of gold, and sat in the -doorway under the deep shade of the thatch. But though -her fingers were busy with the threads, her mind was -full of a spirit of watchfulness and of unrest. She felt -as it were the stir and movement of another world beyond -the towering domes of the trees. She had a premonition -that someone would come through the wood that morning. -It would be a man, and yet not Grimbald. Denise’s -hands were idle awhile, and her brown eyes looked thoughtfully -into the deeps of the wood.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Nor was it very wonderful that Aymery’s thoughts -should turn towards Denise as a man struggles through -the thick of a crowd when he sees a beloved head in danger. -He and Grimbald had been at the burying of Waleran’s -boy, but Aymery had left Grimbald and the rest, and -ridden back to Goldspur to see Denise.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The trampling of his horse’s hoofs through the dead -beech leaves came as no surprise to the woman who sat -with the orfrays work of gold in her lap. She had watched -her own mind, till, like a crystal, it had been full of the -man’s coming. Often in her life Denise had been able -to foresee the faces of those dear to her, and to feel friends -near while they were still far distant. She had the gift -of inward vision, though the power became lost to her -later when she had suffered many humiliations.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Aymery rode out into the sunlight of the glade, and -Denise could see that he was armed. A surcoat of apple -green covered the ringed hauberk, though the hood of -mail was turned back between his shoulders. Aymery -rode his big black destrier that day, and not the rough -nag he used for hawking and cantering over his lands. -He looped the bridle over the post at the gate, and came -up the path with the air of a man who has more in his -heart than his lips might utter.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Denise let her work lie idle in her lap. She had had -no fear of Aymery from the first, his face had become so -familiar that it seemed part of the life round her, like the -trees, or the hills, or the distant sea. Yet from the instant -that he opened the wattle gate that morning, a sense -of strangeness took hold of both of them. Each felt -the change and wondered at it, so simple in its significance, -and yet so strange. The shadow of a cloud lay over them -for the first time. The more intimate hour had come -when the man looked into the woman’s eyes and thought -that thought which opens the eyes of the soul—“if -any harm should befall her! If that dear head should -suffer shame!”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“We have buried the boy,” he said. “That will be -the beginning of a long tale.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>There was something satisfying about Aymery, a -man who carried his head high, and looked fearlessly -at the horizon. He had a quick yet quiet way with him -had Aymery of Goldspur. Shirkers and cowards were -afraid of those grey eyes of his, for they were not the eyes -of a man to be trifled with or fooled.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>He spoke to Denise, resting his hands on his sword, -and looking at the golden orfrays work in her lap. She -was leaning against the door-post, her face in the shadow, -thought and feeling as intimately one as the rose and -the scent of the rose.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“The woods are no longer safe. Peter of Savoy’s -riders will be with us again. Waleran will see to that.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Denise’s brown eyes had a tremor of light in them.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Have you proved me a coward?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“We are cowards, Denise, where others are concerned. -What do the days promise us? Waleran could -not hold his house against those hired swarthies, nor can -I mine; I am not fool enough to doubt it. A few arrows -bearded with burning tow, the thatch alight, and the -smoke and the flames would make us run like rats. It -will be war in the woods where our bows can serve us, -and where their men-at-arms cannot ride our peasants -down.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Denise did not answer him for a moment. Her hands -were turning over the embroidery in her lap.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I have lived with you all in the sunshine,” she said. -“And now that trouble comes you would have me run -away!”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“What man would not wish it?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“But you——”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I—I am the worst of all.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>She dropped her head suddenly as though hiding the -light and colour that had rushed into her eyes and face.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I am not afraid,” she said.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I am”—and he shut his lips on the words—“it -is human to be afraid. If you knew this scum of Gascons, -Flemings, and what not, you would wish them well -beyond the sea. Would to God that we could whip -them out of the land. But what would you! We cannot -pull down such a rock as Pevensey with our hands. -These castles that the King’s men hold for him are too -strong for us to meddle with. It is they who will do the -meddling, and what do these hired men care for what -we honour? You will be on the edge of a pit here. -Women are best away when swords are out.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>He bent towards her, looking down into her face, -his manhood shining out on her, strong and honest, -denying itself the right of a romantic beast.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Come with me, and I will guard you against all -Christendom.” A weaker and vainer man might have -spoken in such heroics. Aymery knew what he knew. -Denise would be safer away from him when such men as -Waleran were to be his brethren-in-arms.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I tell you the truth, Denise, because——”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>She looked up at him suddenly, and their eyes met. -Denise saw the deeper truth, that great mystery of -life that cannot hide itself from the eyes of a woman.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Lord, what shall I say to you?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>He spread his arms.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Say nothing. Do what I, Grimbald, all, desire. -I have good friends at Winchelsea. You will be safe -there. The King wishes to win the Cinque Ports over. -He will not be rough with them, as yet. They are too -precious to be ravaged.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Denise looked at the sky beyond the boughs of the -beech trees, letting her hands hang over her knees.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Lord,” she said, “I am still obstinate. I have -lived among you all.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Denise, I also am obstinate.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I would not have you otherwise. And yet, how -can I shirk the truth that I shall be deserting you all -the moment trouble comes?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>He smiled at her, and shook his head.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Should we be the happier if you fell into the hands -of Peter of Savoy? No. That is unthinkable! I would -rather see you—dead like Waleran’s boy—before they -carried you into Pevensey! Good God, you, to be touched -by such hands!”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Denise understood all that was in his heart. She -crossed herself as though against the evil things of the -world.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Lord,” she said, “let there be this promise -between us. If Goldspur is threatened, then—I will do -what you desire. When the people take to the woods, -I shall feel less of a coward. They shall not say that I -fled from a shadow.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>And thus it was agreed between them, Aymery riding -back through the woods towards Goldspur, the face of -Denise more wonderful to him than it had ever seemed -before. Aymery had come by the truth that morning, -and the world had a mystery—the mystery of the tenderness -of spring.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Close by Goldspur village, on the edge of the manor -ploughlands, he met Grimbald, who had come in search -of him. The priest’s face had the look of a stormy and -ominous sky. He took Aymery’s bridle, and turned back -with him towards the village.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Waleran has gone towards Pevensey,” he said. -“We must be ready for a whirlwind when such storm-cocks -are on the wing.”</p> - -<div><h1 class='nobreak'>CHAPTER IV</h1></div> - -<p class='pindent'>A poor rag of a man, with the pinched face of a sick -girl, came limping on sore heels to the western gate of -Pevensey. The man had a broken arrow through the -flesh of his neck; his mouth was all awry, and his breath -came in great heaves, for he had run ten miles that -morning. When someone caught him round the middle -as he tottered at the gate, he doubled up like a wet -clout over a line, and emptied his very soul over the -stones. The guards put him on his back awhile, rubbed -his legs, and gave him a horn of mead to drink. One of -them forced the back of the arrow through the skin, -and whipped it out as a woman whips a broken bodkin -out of a friend’s finger.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The beer, and the blunt heroism of this barber surgeon -brought Barnabo’s man briskly upon his haunches. He -clapped his hand to his neck, saw that there was blood -on it, and promptly began to whimper.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“You’ve pulled the spiggot out,” he wailed. “Lord, -did ever a hogshead gush faster! Linen—oil, and linen, -for the love of the Saints.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The men laughed at him. One of them took a smock -that hung on a nail outside the porter’s lodge, tore a -strip from it, spat on the wound, and bandaged Barnabo’s -man till he had a gorget and whimple fit for a nun.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Take a little more beer, comrade,” he said. “Never -a rabbit ran more bravely.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The fugitive sulked under their attentive and jeering -faces.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Go to perdition,” he retorted. “It was fifty to -one, there, in the woods. Messire Gaillard must hear of -it. You will all be very brave, sirs, when these devils -begin to shoot at you from behind a hundred trees.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Gaillard heard of it soon enough, as did Etoile, and -Peter of Savoy. Barnabo had been waylaid in the woods -that morning, and the pole-cats had clawed him off his -mule. For no man was more hated than Dan Barnabo -in those parts, a hard, shrewd man who held many benefices, -and saw that his steward ground out the dues. -The Italian could not speak ten words in the vulgar tongue. -His ministrations would have been ridiculous had he -ever troubled his soul about the people. It was told that -a woman had once waylaid Barnabo, and demanded to -be shriven. The Italian had understood nothing of -what she said to him, but since she was pretty and importunate, -he had created a scandal by misunderstanding -her whole desire, and by seeking to comfort her in a -fashion that was not fatherly. The woman had scratched -Barnabo’s face. There were many people who had lusted -to scarify him more viciously. Barnabo baptised no -children, sought out none of the sick, buried none of -the dead. Twice a year perhaps he had said mass in -the churches that belonged to him. Few of the people -had come to hear Barnabo’s Roman voice. He was -a better lute player and lap-dog than priest, and the -people knew it.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Gaillard had his orders from Peter of Savoy. Etoile -laughed in his face when she met him upon the stairs.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Let the pole-cats play a little with Barnabo,” she -said. “Do not ride furiously, dear lord! I can learn -to serve at chess better than Barnabo.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Gaillard caught at her, but she slipped past him up -the stairs.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“There are two sorts of fools in the world, my Gaillard,” -she said. “One is killed for the sake of a woman, -the other through greed for a woman. Keep out of -Barnabo’s path.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Both Peter of Savoy and the Gascon knew whither -Barnabo had ridden that April day. It was notorious -that the Italian had kept a <span class='it'>focaria</span> or hearth-ward at a -priest’s house of his in a valley beyond the hill called -Bright Ling because of the glory of its heathlands in -the summer. The woman—a Norman—was more comely -than was well for Dan Barnabo’s name, and she had -kept the house for him, and rendered it to him sweet and -garnished whenever he chose to ride that way.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Gaillard and his men marched past Dallington, -where Guillaume Sancto de Leodegario was lord of the -manor, and on over Bright Ling with the furze in full -bloom. The little red spy jogged along beside the Gascon’s -horse. He led them into a deep valley, a valley full of -the grey-green trunks of oak trees, and the brown wreckage -of last year’s bracken. A stream dived and winked in -the bottoms, and at the end of a piece of grassland the -thatch of the priest’s house shelved under the very -boughs of the oaks. No smoke rose from the place. -It seemed silent and deserted as Gaillard and his men -came trampling through the dead bracken.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Gaillard’s eyes swept hillside and valley, for he was -shrewd enough to guess that many an alert shadow -had dogged them on the march that day. He dismounted, -sent his archers into the woods as scouts, -and taking the pick of his men-at-arms, marched up to -the silent house, holding his shield ready to catch any -treacherous arrow that might be shot from the dark -squints. A wooden perch shadowed the main entry, -and Gaillard saw that the door stood ajar, and that the -flagstones paving the porch were littered with rushes, -and caked with mud as though many feet had passed -to and fro over the stones.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Gaillard pushed the door open with the point of his -sword. It gave to him innocently enough, and he -crossed the threshold, and stood staring at something -that the men behind him could not see.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The place had the dimness of twilight, lit as it was -by the narrow lancets cut in the thickness of the wall. -Not three paces from Gaillard, their feet nearly touching -the floor, two bodies dangled on ropes from the black -beams of the roof. The face of the one was grey; of -the other, black and turgid; for one had died by the -sword, the other by the rope.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The body with the black face was still twisting to -and fro as a joint twists on a spit before the fire. The -arms had been pinioned, and the man’s tongue been -drawn out, and the head of an arrow thrust through it. -The face could scarcely be recognised, but by the clothes -Gaillard knew him for Dan Barnabo, the Italian, lutanist, -lover, spoiler of the poor.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Gaillard touched the body. It was still warm. His -men were crowding in, peering over each other’s shoulders -so that the doorway was full of faces, shields, and swords.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Gaillard waved them back. He swung his sword, -struck at the rope that held Barnabo, and cut it so cleanly -that the body came down upon its feet. For a moment -it stood, poised there, before falling forward to hide its -black face in the rushes.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Gaillard looked at it a little contemptuously, thinking -of Etoile, and the rivalry between her and this thing -that had been a man.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Only fools come by such a death,” he said. “A -dog’s death. This man had a woman’s hands.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Dusk was falling, and Gaillard and his men settled -themselves to pass the night in dead Barnabo’s house -under the oak trees. Gaillard, who did not trouble -himself about such a thing as a “crowner’s quest,” -had the two bodies buried in the garden at the foot of -a holly tree. Waleran de Monceaux had hanged Barnabo, -and the priest was not pretty to look at with his black -face and his swollen tongue. Nor was Gaillard going -to quarrel with so convenient a coincidence. He called -his archers back out of the woods, posted two sentinels, -had the horses brought in and stabled in the hall. A fire -was lit on the hearth, and the men gathered round it, -and opened their wallets for supper.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Gaillard kept the red-headed hunchback at his elbow, -and questioned him narrowly as to the woodways, and -the manor houses, and the gentry with whom he would -have to deal. These Sussex rebels had hanged Barnabo, -and in the hanging, thrown down the blood gauge to -Peter of Savoy. War was Gaillard’s business. He had -learnt the trade in Gascony, where neighbour went out -against neighbour as for a day’s hunting. Nor was it -Gaillard’s concern to trouble about the law of the land, -and how far feudal faith bound this man or that. The -King was the great over-lord, and Peter of Savoy stood -as his champion in those parts. Hence if rebels popped -their heads up, it was only necessary to strike with the -sword.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Night fell, and the men lay down to sleep in the -long hall, crowding about the fire, for the horses were -ranged along the walls. The air of the place was close -and heavy with the smoke from the fire, the animal -heat of the crowded bodies, and the pungent scent of -horses’ dung. Faint flickers of light lost themselves in -the black zenith of the timbered roof. Gaillard, sitting -propped in a corner with his sword across his knees, -could hear the wet murmur of the stream that ran close -to the house. He could also hear the two sentinels -answering each other, and since they seemed so whole-heartedly -alert, Gaillard dozed off like a dog.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>About midnight Gaillard opened his eyes, and sat -staring at the dying fire, and though he remained motionless, -his face sharpened like the face of one who listens. -His eyes moved slowly from figure to figure, to rest at -last on the shutter closing a window. And Gaillard saw -that the shutter was shaking ever so little, and he knew -that there was no wind.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Gaillard did not move. He could hear a vague -scuffling as of many men moving about the house. But -there were other sounds that made the Gascon’s lips -tighten and retract so that the teeth showed, a faint -crackling as of dry brushwood being piled against the -door of Barnabo’s house.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The Gascon saw the shutter open. A white face peered -in with eyes that moved like the eyes of a wonder-working -image. Then the face disappeared, and the shutter -closed again, but Gaillard was on his feet, and going to -and fro, silently rousing his men. Hardly a word was -spoken. The men caught up their arms, and stood like -listening dogs, while the archers marked the windows.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Gaillard was at the door trying to lift the bar, but -some weight from without had jammed it in the sockets. -He stood listening, sniffing the air, and watching grey -puffs of smoke come curling in through the crevices. -Then he shouted an order through the hall, an order -that brought his men crowding forward for a sally. -Some of the strongest of them put their shoulders to -the bar. It flew up, letting the door swing in with a -gush of smoke and a crash of falling faggots.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Out—out!”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Gaillard and his men broke through, hurling the -brushwood aside, dragging it into the hall, cursing as -they realised the devil’s trick that had been played them. -Only the outer faggots were alight. There was a gush -of flame under the hooded entry, but Gaillard and his -men sprang through it with a weird glitter of gold upon -their harness, and an uprush of smoke and sparks. Dark -figures flitted about the priest’s garden. Arrows whistled -and struck the walls as the Savoyard’s men came tumbling -out over the burning faggots.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>There was a sharp tussle in the garden; blows were -given and taken in the dark; arrows shot at a venture; -torches thrust into hairy faces. Gaillard’s men-at-arms -in their heavy mail, for they had lain down armed to -sleep, were more than a match for the woodlanders in -their leather jerkins. Soon—scampering shadows went -away into the moonlight. Gaillard and his men were -left to put out the fire about the porch.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>And savage men they were, men with the hot flare -of that death trap in their nostrils. The two sentinels -had been stalked and killed, and the brushwood piled -against the door. The windows were so narrow that -men could have been shot while struggling through -them. The flames and smoke would have leapt in, -making the place a hell of plunging, terrified beasts, and -mad and half-dazed men.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Gaillard watched his fellows trampling on the brushwood. -Now and again an arrow came whistling out of -the moonlight.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“We will pay them for this,” he said grimly. “God, -but they meant to burn us like blind mice in a stack!”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The fire was soon out, and there was nothing left -but to wait for the daylight, and to keep the house in -darkness so that no lurking woodlander should have -the outline of a window for a mark. Gaillard’s men -were very sullen and bitter over the night’s adventure. -They had brought in the two dead sentinels, and crowded -about them, letting their fury break out in growls for -to-morrow’s reckoning. There was no more sleep for -Gaillard’s men that night; they squatted round the -walls, telling each other what they would do to these -people who murdered priests and set fire to houses where -the King’s men slept.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The dawn came with a thick mist hanging over the -woods, even covering the crowns of the uplands of Bright -Ling. Gaillard had made his plans, and in the garden -the little spy was drawing a map on the soil with the -point of a charred stake. The archers had gone out to -scout, but had found nothing but fog and rotting bracken. -Gaillard ordered his men to horse, and they were soon -on the move through the mist, the drippings from the -trees falling on them, and on grass that was grey with -dew.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The hunchback, marching beside Gaillard’s horse, -led them towards Goldspur, following the high ground -where there was less chance of an ambuscade. Gaillard -had ordered silence. Not a man spoke. The grey shapes -moved through the greyer mist with no sounds but the -dull shuffle of hoofs, the occasional snort of a horse, -the creaking of saddles, and the faint jingle of steel.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>It was still very early when they came to the hill -above Goldspur, and skirted the great beech wood whose -topmost boughs were beginning to glitter in the sunlight. -The mist lifted quite suddenly like a white diaphanous -curtain drawn up into the sky. A broad beam of sunlight -clove like a sword into the deeps of the beech wood. -And to these rough riders of Peter of Savoy was revealed -a vision, a vision such as a crystal-gazer might watch -growing from nothingness in the heart of a crystal.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>In the full sunlight at the opening of a glade a woman -stood washing herself at a forest pool. The woman’s -figure gleamed like snow against the sombre trunks of -the trees. Her hair blazed about her naked body like -flames licking a white tower. As yet she had not seen -that line of armed men winding along the hillside not a -hundred paces from where she stood.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Gaillard reined in, and held up a hand for his men to -halt. He looked from the woman to the hunchback -who held his stirrup strap.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Hallo, what have we here?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The cripple crossed himself, cur that he was.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“It is Denise of the Forest, lording,” he said. “They -call her their Lady of Healing in these parts. She has -a cell yonder, in the wood. She can work miracles, so -they say.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The rough faces behind Gaillard were all agog. A -short, yapping laugh came from some man in the rear. -Gaillard turned in the saddle, and looked for the man -who had made the noise.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Enough of that, sirs,” he said. “Shall we laugh -because a saint happens not to cherish vermin.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Perhaps curiosity pricked Gaillard, perhaps something -still more human. At all events he pushed his horse -forward and rode alone up the stretch of green turf -that sloped towards the beech wood. The men grinned -like apes so soon as his back was turned. Messire Gaillard -might be a great captain, but assuredly he was no saint.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Gaillard was laughing to himself with a coarse spirit -of mischief, being inquisitive as to what this woman -would do when she discovered that she was no longer -alone. He carried his chin high in the air, his hard eyes -gleaming like the eyes of a man who has drunk strong -wine. But Denise made her womanhood a thing of pride -and splendour that spring morning. Her tunic was still -open at the bosom when the Gascon’s horse threw a -shadow on the grass close to the pool.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Denise looked Gaillard straight in the eyes, and yet -not at him, but past him, as though he were so much -vapour. Gaillard, Gascon that he was, had not a word -to say for himself, though he boasted himself so debonair -with women. Denise took her hair with her hands, put -it behind her shoulders, and picking up the clean cloth -that she had brought, turned and walked away into the -wood.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>For once in his life Gaillard felt a fool, and his arrant -sheepishness did not please him. He comforted himself -with that infallible sneer that is the refuge of a vain -man who has done something mean and cowardly.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Red-headed Pharisee, go your way,” he said. “A -woman’s sanctity is as thick as her skin. Fool! I am -not the first sheep that has bleated in these parts.”</p> - -<div><h1 class='nobreak'>CHAPTER V</h1></div> - -<p class='pindent'>Grimbald the priest stood on guard under the ash tree -where the road left Goldspur for the open fields. He -had a buckler on his arm, and an axe over his shoulder. -His short, frayed cassock showed the beginnings of a -brown and mighty pair of calves, and the feet in the -leather sandals looked like the feet of an Atlas whose -shoulders wedged up the heavens.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>There had been a panic at Goldspur that morning, -when a lad had run in with the news that he had seen -armed men riding through the mist, and that they were -marching towards Goldspur. And Grimbald, stalking -down into the village, had met some of the younger -men skulking off as though there were no women and -children to be remembered. Grimbald had twisted a -stake out of the hedge, dusted some decent shame into -these cowards, and driven them back into Goldspur -much as a drover drives his cattle.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Grimbald had found the village in an uproar, for -Aymery was away with Waleran, and the folk had -tumbled over each other for the lack of a leader. Men -and boys had herded in sheep and cattle, and the beasts -were bolting all ways, and taking every road but the -right one. Women, weeping, scolding, chattering, were -carrying out their chattels from the cottages. One -had a baby at the breast; another clutched a young -pig; a third sat at her door, and screamed like a silly -girl. Men were arguing, shouting, quarrelling, eager -to do the same thing, but obstinate in trying to do it -each in his several way.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Then Grimbald had come and shepherded the people, -knocked together the heads of the men who quarrelled, -and turned disorder into order. The sheep, cattle, and -pigs were driven off towards the woods. Men, women, -and children followed, carrying all that they could put -upon their backs. In a quarter of an hour from Grimbald’s -coming Goldspur village was a row of empty -hovels, with nothing alive there but a few chickens, and -the sparrows, who trusted in God, and continued to -build in the thatch.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Grimbald had set himself at the lower end of the -village, and stood there like the giant figure of some -protecting saint. He was about to follow his flock -when he saw a man on horseback round a spur of woodland -in the valley. He came on at a canter for the -village, and Grimbald knew him for Aymery by the -colours of his surcoat and his horse.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Aymery reined in, hot with galloping, his eyes keen -and full of flashes of light. He had been with Waleran, -and had ridden to warn his people of what they might -expect that day.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Grimbald pointed with his axe to the open doors of -the hovels.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“They are safe in the woods by now. Have you -had view of Peter’s gentry?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Aymery turned his horse, and shaded his eyes with -his hand.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“They left the priest’s house under Bright Ling—at -dawn. Waleran tried a trick there, but the dogs -smelt the smoke. I saw their spears coming down the -hill as I crossed the valley.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Aymery looked towards the beech wood on the hill, -his eyes flashing back the morning sunlight. The muscles -of his jaw were hard and tense.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“We must bide our time, and watch them,” he said; -“they are coming to make a bonfire here. They can -burn every stick of the place so long as they have not -meddled with Denise.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Grimbald shifted his axe from one shoulder to the -other. If ever a man had cause to be jealous of a woman, -that man was Grimbald. But his heart was too warm -and too well tilled to harbour such a weed. He thanked -God for the good he found in the world, and did not -quarrel with it because it was not part of his own halo.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“She cannot be left yonder,” he said.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Aymery still looked at the beech wood, head thrown -back, grey eyes a-glitter.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“We must take cover and watch. They will be -here soon, and we shall see. To-night, I will take her -away.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>A gleam of spears showed in the valley, and Aymery -rode off to the nearest wood with Grimbald holding to -his stirrups. They saw Gaillard and his men come -over the fields to Goldspur village, and Denise was not -with them. Aymery’s eyes made sure of that. The -Gascon found nothing but the empty hovels, the untroubled -sparrows, and a black cock crowing and scratching -on a dunghill. One of Gaillard’s men fitted an arrow -to the string, shot the black cock through the body, and -laughed at the way the bird tumbled and flapped in the -death agony.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Brother Barnabo may find use for him,” said someone, -and there was a laugh.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“He will wake him before daylight,” quoth another. -“Such birds are useful to gallant clerks.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Goldspur village did not go up in smoke that morning, -for Gaillard, cunning as a fox, did not always run straight -for the game in view.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“We will take our dinner elsewhere, sirs,” he said. -“When we are over the hill, the fools may think that -they will see us no more. When does a cat catch mice? -We shall do better in the dark.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>And Aymery and Grimbald saw him and his men ride -on towards the west as though an empty village were too -miserable a thing even to be burnt. Nor did they turn -aside to where the gable end of the manor house showed -amid the oak trees. It seemed that Gaillard had another -quest in view. Goldspur was left to the sparrows and -the dead cock on the dunghill.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Aymery and Grimbald watched the raiders till they -had disappeared.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“We are free of them for one day, brother. What -about our people?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“We had better look to the fools,” said Grimbald. -“They are as frightened as rabbits.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>And they went off together into the woods.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Aymery and the priest found the Goldspur folk -penning their cattle in a wild part of the forest. The -men had cut boughs and furze bushes, and the women -were building rude huts for shelter at night. Aymery -sent some of the boys to scout through the forest, and -bring back any news of Gaillard that they could gather. -About noon one of Waleran’s men came in, with a word -to Aymery that Waleran and the woodlanders were -gathering to ambush the Savoyard’s men. Grimbald -and Aymery went off to join in the tussle, but saw nothing -of Waleran though they sought him most of the day. -A woodman who was felling oak trees to bark for the -tanner, told them that young St. Leger had ridden by, -and that Gaillard and his company had marched back -beyond Bright Ling. Aymery and the priest turned -homewards towards Goldspur. The long shadows of -evening were purple upon the grass, and Aymery’s -heart remembered Denise.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>They came to Goldspur manor as the dusk was -falling, and the song of the birds went up towards the -sunset, and everything was very still. The bridge -was down over the narrow moat, and the gate open; -no man had been there all that day, for Aymery’s servants -had fled with the village folk, and two men who could -handle their bows had been sent two days ago with -Waleran into the woods.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Grimbald drew the bridge, while Aymery went to -the stable to feed and water his horse. They had no -fear of Peter of Savoy’s riders that night, and took their -augury from the fact that Gaillard had left the place -untouched that morning. Grimbald carried tinder and -steel in his wallet, and he lit a torch in the hall, and -went to the pantry and kitchen to get bread, beer, and -meat for supper. He and Aymery sat down in the empty -hall, and ate for a while in silence, like men who were -weary, or were sunk in thought.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>They were nearly through with their hunger, and -were talking of Denise and the hermitage, when Grimbald, -who was about to finish his mead, paused with the -horn between the table and his mouth. The men’s -eyes met across the board. They were both listening, -motionless as images carved in stone.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The night seemed dark and silent without, the woodlands -asleep, the night empty of all unrest. Yet there -had come to Grimbald a sense of something moving in -the darkness. And as they listened there was a faint -splash from the moat, and a sound like the creaking of -wet leather.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Grimbald’s eyes were fixed on Aymery’s face.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Listen!”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“A rat in the moat?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Grimbald put his horn down on the table, rose up -swiftly and silently, and taking his axe, went out into -the courtyard. Aymery’s sword and shield hung from -a peg in the wall. He took them down, and had gained -the door of the hall when he heard a sudden scuffling -of feet, an oath in the darkness, the harsh breathing -of men at grips, the splash of something into the water -of the moat.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>A scattering of arrows whirred and pecked at the -walls, one slanting in and smiting the flagstones close -to Aymery’s feet. He heard the dull jingle of armed -men on the move. Grimbald towered back suddenly -out of the night, a red splash of blood on his forehead, -his eyes shining in the torchlight.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>He flung the door to, and ran the oak bar through -the staples.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Brother, we are trapped! I took the first of them -and pitched him into the moat.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>He shook his shaggy head, and looked round the -hall. Aymery was buckling on his sword.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“There is the garden bridge,” he said. “We can -make a dash for it.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Away, then; they are wading the moat, and climbing -the palisade.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Aymery pushed in front of Grimbald as they hurried -down a narrow passage-way that led from the hall and -the kitchen quarters into the garden.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I go first, brother,” he said. “I have my steel -coat; a stab in the dark might find your heart.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Grimbald passed a huge arm about Aymery as they -went.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Lad, what is that to me!”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>They came out into the garden, and stood for a -moment listening. They could hear Gaillard’s men -beating in the door of the hall, but towards the garden -everything seemed quiet.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Aymery laid a hand on Grimbald’s arm.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“If one of us is taken, brother, let not the other -tarry. Remember Denise.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Grimbald understood him.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Come,” he said in an undertone, and they crossed -the garden side by side.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Now there was a trestle-bridge from the garden over -the moat, a footbridge made of a single plank that could -be thrust across and withdrawn at pleasure. A wicket -in the palisade led to the bridge. Aymery unbarred -the gate, and ran the plank forward on to the -trestles.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“We shall trick them,” he said grimly, “quick, they -have broken in.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>He ran across the bridge, Grimbald following, the -plank creaking and sagging under the priest’s weight. -Aymery had stooped to drag the plank away again, -when he heard Grimbald give a short, deep cry, and -saw him spring forward and smite at something with -his axe.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Guard, brother, guard.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Steel crashed upon steel, a glitter of sparks flying -from axe and helmet. An arrow stopped quivering -in Aymery’s shield as he sprang forward to Grimbald’s -aid. Men rose at him out of the darkness. Dimly -in the midst of the waving swords, he had a glimpse -of two men clinging to Grimbald. He saw the priest -shake them off, and beat them down before him as a -boy snaps thistles with a stick. There was a rush of -armed men in the darkness, the dash of steel against -steel as they blundered one against another. The red -splutter of a torch came tossing out of the night, with -the hoarse shouting of men trying to tell friend from -foe. Grimbald and Aymery lost each other, and fought -each for his own hand.</p> - -<div><h1 class='nobreak'>CHAPTER VI</h1></div> - -<p class='pindent'>Through the darkness of the night went Denise, her -grey cloak passing amid the beech trees like some dim -ghost shape that drifts with the night breeze. She had -been restless and distraught all day, her splendour of -peace ruffled, her heart filling with a distrust of the -near future. To begin with, out of the grey fog of the -morning had come the man on the black horse, the man -with the red eyes and the insolent scoffing mouth. -Gaillard had made her shudder despite her pride, for she -had learnt to hate the look of such a man before the -woods had hidden her from the world. Feeling a shadow -of evil near her, Denise had gone down to Goldspur -after the Gascon and his men had ridden on, and had found -the place deserted, so many silent hovels in a silent -landscape. She had wandered up to the manor house, -and found the same silence there, the same foreshadowings -of tragedy.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The rest of the day had dragged slowly for her in -the great beech wood, and she had found her thoughts -wandering like children into a forbidden place. And -Denise’s pride would start up after these same thoughts, -seize on them in that little pleasaunce of dreams, drag -them forth, and bar the door. But there was a restless -refrain in the mood of the day. The future seemed to -fly open before her eyes like the magic gate of an enchanted -garden, and she had a glimpse of paradise bathed in a -mist of gold. Her thoughts were lured thither, though -her pride arose and drove them back.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>With the dusk the spirit of unrest in her had deepened, -and she had seemed to hear voices calling through the -twilight of the woods. A thrush had perched on the -topmost bough of a beech tree, and had uttered his -desire, till the plaint had rung and rung into Denise’s -heart. She had tossed her cloak at the bird, but none -of the wild things feared her. And though the dusk -fell, the song of the thrush seemed to thrill through the -brown gloom.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Then night had come, and her cell had seemed small -and stifling, a vault for a live soul. She had thrown -her grey cloak over her shoulders, and gone out into the -beech wood, following the path that led towards Goldspur -manor. Her brown eyes had more than human vision -in the darkness, and she knew the wood ways even at -night. It was as though she went out to watch over -the place, and to dispel the shadow of dread that had -settled over her own heart.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Denise had come to the end of the wood where the -grassland swept down into the valley, when she stopped -to listen, putting her hood back so that she might hear -more clearly. Her face was towards Goldspur, and she -merged her body into shadow of the trunk of a great -tree. Abruptly out of the night came the sudden sound -of men shouting, a vague clamour that rose and fell like -the noise of a wind through trees. Dots of light shone -out in the darkness, jerking to and fro like sparks blown -hither and thither by the wind.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Denise stood there watching these dots of fire, afraid -yet not afraid, striving to understand what was happening -down there in the darkness. The shouting died down -suddenly, to change into the scattered cries of men -running to and fro. The torches tossed this way and -that as though Gaillard’s fellows were hunting for fugitives, -calling to one another as they doubled upon their tracks. -One of the torches came some little distance up the hill -towards the beech wood and then halted, and remained -motionless, flaming like the eye of a cyclops.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Denise had drawn back behind the tree, when she -heard the sound of something moving in the darkness. -A black shape passed momentarily between her and -the torch burning below upon the hillside. Footsteps -came near to her, the stumbling, irregular, running steps -of a man hard put for breath, and perhaps—for blood. -He passed close to her in the darkness, labouring for -breath, and staggering from side to side. She could still -see the moving shadow in the gloom, when it plunged -like a man falling forward over a cliff, and she heard the -sound of a body striking the crisp, dead leaves. Fear -was beneath Denise’s feet for the moment. The man -had fallen over the straggling root of a tree, and he -was struggling to rise as Denise came up with him.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>He had gained his feet, and stood rocking like a -drunken man, trying to steady himself, and to win -forward into the wood. But his legs would not carry -him, and he went swaying as though struck on the chest, -to stagger against Denise before she could avoid him. -She felt the hard rings of his hauberk against her bosom, -and to save herself she held the man, throwing an arm -about his body.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Caught thus from behind, he turned his head and -looked at her, not questioning the strangeness of it, -being dazed and almost dead with what had passed. -His face was so close to hers that Denise could not but -know him, even in the darkness.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Aymery!”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Her voice set his dull brain thrilling.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Denise!”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>She kept her arm about him, for there was nothing -else for her to do, and he would have fallen had she not -held him. Aymery’s face was as white as linen, and -she could feel him quivering as he stood.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Peter of Savoy’s men, we were caught yonder, -Grimbald and I.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>He spoke in jerks, and tried to stand apart from her, -as though one purpose had carried him so far, and as -though the same purpose dominated him still.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I want breath, that is all; they pressed us hard, -there, at Goldspur; we broke through, and I ran for -the hills. You must go, Denise, to-night; make for -one of the coast towns. I can look to myself.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>He was at the end of his strength, however, for all -his hardihood, with a sword cut through the shoulder, -an arrow broken in his thigh. Denise could see nothing -of all this, but she knew that he could hardly stand. -Moreover, he had struggled up into the wood to warn -her, and her heart was the heart of a woman though the -people called her a saint.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Looking back over her shoulder she saw tongues of -yellow flame rising from Goldspur in the valley. Gaillard’s -men had set fire to the place. The glow from it caught -Aymery’s eyes as he stood, swaying at the knees, great -sickness upon him, even his wrath feeble in him because -of his wounds and his weariness.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“They have lit me a torch to travel by,” he said -bitterly.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Denise was shading her eyes with her hand. She -turned swiftly upon Aymery, for she had seen mounted -men moving on the hillside between her, and the burning -house.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Lord,” she said simply, “yesterday, you were -afraid for my sake; to-night, it is I who fear.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Her eyes met his, and held them. The secret thoughts -of the day no longer had their half treacherous significance. -Denise had no thought of self in her that moment; the -succouring hands hid the dull radiance of the heart -beneath.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“To-night you must rest and sleep.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>He looked at her, as though trying to understand. -The darkness began to deepen about him, and he felt -cold, and numb to the core.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I can crawl to cover. If you could bring me wine -and food, and a little linen——”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>She went close to him suddenly, and passed her hands -over his hauberk. Touch told her the whole truth. -She had no false shame to make her weak and careful.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Wounds, and you would have hidden them!”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“A little blood, nothing more. Let me lie here, -Denise.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“To die,” and her voice had a deep, quiet passion -in it; “lord, would you choose death for a piece of -pride! Come, I know the ways.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>She put an arm about him, as though she was stronger -than Aymery that night, and had the will and courage to -do for him what he, in his full strength, would have -done for her. Suffering and sickness sweep the small -prides of life aside. The heart of a woman is as elemental, -then, as the wind or the sea.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Lean on me.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>He looked at her half rebelliously, and then hung -his head, and obeyed.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>How great his need was became apparent before -they had reached the clearing amid the beech trees. -The man stumbled and faltered at every step, his head -fell forward, he muttered incoherently, like one in the -heat of a fever. Denise felt his weight bearing more -heavily upon her arm. His head drooped, and rested -upon her shoulder. Before they reached the wattle -gate of the garden the conscious life was out of him, -and Denise, borne down like a vine-ladened sapling bent -by the wind, let the man slip from her gently to the ground.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>She stood irresolute a moment, then stooping and -putting her two hands under his shoulders, she found -that she could drag him slowly up the stone path into -her cell. Once within she closed the door, and slipping -off her cloak, she covered the slit of a window with it. -There was a little earthen lamp in the cell, and Denise -sought and found it in the darkness, also tinder, flint, -and steel. Yet her hands shook so with her labour of -bearing up under Aymery’s weight, that it was a minute -or more before she had the lamp burning.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Setting it upon a stone sconce in the wall, she bent -over Aymery, the light of the lamp making his face seem -white as the face of the dead. Her brown eyes grew -frightened at the sight of his wounds, and at the way -he lay so quiet, and so still. But there was something -greater than fear in Denise’s heart that night. In a -corner of the cell were some rough boards covered with -dry bracken, a coarse white sheet, and a coverlet of wool. -Denise, putting her arms once more under the man’s -body, half dragged and half lifted him to her own rough -bed.</p> - -<div><h1 class='nobreak'>CHAPTER VII</h1></div> - -<p class='pindent'>The night was far spent, and the oil in the earthen lamp -had failed some hours ago. Denise, sitting in the darkness, -with her chin resting on her hands, listened to Aymery’s -breathing, and waited for the dawn. Nerving herself, -she had twisted the arrow’s head from the flesh, unlaced -his hauberk and bound up the wounded shoulder, and -poured some wine between his lips. For a long time -she had watched him for signs of returning consciousness. -Then the lamp had died out and left them in the darkness, -and Denise had sat wondering whether the man’s quietude -meant sleep or death.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Denise did not close her eyes that night. She was -wakeful, strangely wakeful, almost conscious of the beating -of her heart. More than once she had bent forward -and touched Aymery’s hand, and its coldness chilled her, -so that she longed for the day. Often too in the -strained suspense of the night’s silence she would -fancy that he had ceased to breathe, and she would -fall a-praying with a passion that startled even her -own heart.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>A faint greyness beneath the door, a sudden tentative -cry from some awakened bird. For a while silence, -then sudden and strange, a thrilling up of note on note, -a sense as of golden light mounting in sweeping spirals -towards the sky. Wizard’s magic in the grey of the -great wood, a thousand throats throbbing in unison -till the whole world seemed full of a glory of sound. -The very air quivered within the cell. It was as though -invisible wings were beating everywhere, while the trees -of the forest were tongued with prophetic fire.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Denise rose, opened wide the door, and let the song -of the birds come to her with the cold fragrance of the -breaking day. As yet greyness everywhere, grey grass, -grey trees. A gradual gathering of light, then, of a -sudden, as though some god had hurled fire into the sky, -a blur of gold, a cry of crimson from the mouths of the -pale clouds. Soon, an arch of amber in the east, the -forest black against the splendour thereof, the grass -a-gleam, the sky in the zenith still dim like a woman’s -eyes dim with tears. A beautiful tenderness transfigured -the face of the world; no wicked thing seemed thinkable -while those birds were singing.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>So the dawn came, and flung his torch into the cell -at Denise’s feet.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Now that the daylight absolved her from suspense, -she turned, a little fearfully, and knelt down beside the -bed. The man’s face was in the shadow, so that it looked -very sharp and grey to her, yet he was breathing quietly -with his lips closed. Only a little blood had soaked -through the bandages. Yet Denise knelt watching him, -unable to shake off the haunting dread that he might -not wake to see another dawn.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Whether it was the daylight playing on his face, or -the long gaze of Denise’s eyes, Aymery awoke without -so much as the stirring of a hand, and looked up straight -into the woman’s face. And for some moments those -two stared silently into each other’s eyes.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Aymery half rose upon his elbow, but Denise’s hand -went to his unwounded shoulder.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Lie still,” she said to him, with a pressure of the hand.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>He obeyed her, and sank back upon the bed. Denise -saw his lips move, but no words came from them. His -eyes wandered from her face about the cell, as though -the slow consciousness of it all were flowing into his -brain. And as the daylight broadened, his mind’s awakening -seemed to keep pace with it. He was lying in -Denise’s cell, and upon Denise’s bed.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“How long have I been here?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>She bent towards him, her hair shining about her -face. Aymery’s eyes caught the sheen thereof, and -seemed dazzled by its glory.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Only lie still,” she said. “In the night I thought -that you would die. You are safe here. None but -friends know the ways.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>He seemed to feel the first burning of his wounds, -for his hand went to his right shoulder, but Denise -caught it, and laid it upon the coverlet.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I have looked to your wounds.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“How did I come here?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>His eyes searched her face.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“You are safe, is not that enough; yet, you were -very heavy,” and she smiled at him.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Have you seen Grimbald?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“No, no one.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Aymery was silent for a moment, looking at Denise -with a kind of quiet wonder. Her face was turned -from him. And suddenly he caught her hand, and -lifted it, and for a moment its whiteness lay across -Aymery’s mouth.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“God guard you, Denise.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Her eyes flashed down at him.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“You must live. I ask that.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Assuredly, I cannot die.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Denise rose up and went out into the sunlight, for -her face had blazed suddenly with blood that rushed -from the heart.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The first thing that Denise did that morning was -to take a pitcher that stood beside the door, and to go -down to the spring to draw water. There were drops -of the man’s blood upon the stones of the path, and -Denise, bringing back her pitcher, washed the stains -away so that they should offer no betrayal. The beech -wood seemed still and empty in the morning sunlight. -Yet the peril of the night haunted her heart continually -with an innocence that had no thought of self.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>She went to refill the pitcher at the spring, looking -watchfully down every dwindling woodway, and listening -even for the rustle of dead leaves. Aymery was lying -awake when she returned. His eyes watched her a -little restlessly, and there was something in those eyes -of his that made the blood come more quickly to her face.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Turning to a cupboard she took out bread, honey, -and a little jar of wine.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Is that water, there?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>He was looking at the pitcher.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Yes.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Denise understood him instantly, for she found a -clean napkin in the cupboard, moistened it, and bent -over the bed.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Your lips are dry.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>She put a hand under his head, raised it, and washed -his mouth and face. He held out his hands to her, and -she washed those also, yet her eyes avoided Aymery’s, -and their deeps were hidden from him by the shadows of -their lashes.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Are you hungry?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“No, not even a little.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“But you must eat for your strength’s sake.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I will do all that you desire.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>She would not suffer him to manage for himself, -but spread the honey on the bread, and held the wine -flask for him to drink.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“It is all that I can give,” she said simply.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>He looked at her, but found no answer for the moment. -Both of them had grown suddenly shy of one another -and when their hands touched, the touch thrilled them -from hand to heart.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Denise left him at last, and going to the doorway -of the cell, stood to break bread for her own need. Yet -though her face was turned from him, she could not put -the man’s nearness from her, and the bread as she crumbled -it, fell in waste on the stones at her feet.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Denise.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Aymery’s voice startled her. He had not spoken -loudly, but there was a return of strength in the tone -thereof.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Yes?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“You shall be rid of me before nightfall. I only -ask for a day’s grace.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>She had turned and was looking down at him with -solemn eyes.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“It will be days before you must stir,” she said. -“Remember that I saw your wounds.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“They are nothing.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Lord, I know otherwise. You will bide there on -that bed.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>She spoke quietly enough, but Aymery looked up at her -restlessly, watching the sunlight shining through her hair.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I cannot lie here, Denise.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“You are safe.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Too safe, perhaps; it is not of my own safety——”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>He paused, but not before she had caught his meaning. -The truth was difficult for Aymery to utter, and yet she -honoured him for thinking of her honour.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“None but our friends come this way,” she answered.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>He half rose in bed with the strong and generous -passion that made his pale face shine on her out of the -darkness of the cell.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Mother of God, child, am I so selfish, and so blind! -Do I not remember what you are, to all of us in these -parts. If these dogs found me here! I would rather -crawl on my hands and knees than tempt that chance.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Her face flushed deeply, but not because of the mere -words that he had spoken. A sudden impulse seized -her, an impulse that came she knew not whither. Aymery -had sunk back again, and the sight of this strong man’s -weakness went to her heart. In the taking of a breath -she was bending over him, and holding the wooden cross -that hung at her girdle. Kissing it she held it before -Aymery’s eyes.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Lord, let this be as a sign between us, for I have no -fear.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>He looked at the cross, then at Denise, and his eyes -seemed to catch the glimmer of her hair.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Denise, but one day,” he said. “To-morrow——”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Leave God the morrow.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Yet, who knows what even the morrow may bring.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Denise turned from him, and going out, closed the -door. She stood leaning against it, looking above the -trees into the blue of a spring sky. Infinitely strange, -infinitely wonderful seemed this mysterious fire that -had been kindled suddenly within her heart. Quench -it she could not, though she strove to smother and hide -it even from herself. As for Aymery, the cell seemed -very dark to him, for lack of the radiance that had -streamed from her hair.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Denise went down through the beech wood towards -Goldspur that morning, meaning to see whether Gaillard -and his men had gone. The valley was full of sunlight, -but over the village hung a thin dun-coloured mist, -with pale smoke curling upwards into the blue. No -live thing moved in the valley, and even her hope of -the glimpse of a friend failed her. Still, her heart was -glad that there were no riders there, and that the violence -of the night seemed farther from her world.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Gaillard had gone. He and his men had passed the -night, drinking and warming themselves before the burning -house, none too pleased with the evening’s handiwork. -Soon after dawn a rider had come galloping in, beaconed -through the darkness by the glare of the burning manor, -and Gaillard, when he had spoken with the fellow, had -ordered his men to horse, after they had buried two -comrades who had fallen beneath Grimbald’s axe. They -had ridden away towards the sea, since my Lord of Savoy -had called Gaillard back to Pevensey.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The night before, some thirty “spears” and a company -of archers had marched in from Lewes, sent thence -by John de Warenne, the Earl.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Since the iron is hot in your parts, sire,” ran the -Earl’s message, “I send you a hammer for your anvil. -God keep the King.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Peter of Savoy had laughed at the message, and -thrown a jewel into Etoile’s lap.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“The book tells us that we should go a-hunting,” -he had said. “We will send for the Gascon back again. -There are lusty rebels to be pulled down when the King’s -need is paramount.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Etoile had laughed in turn, with a gleam of black -eyes and of white teeth.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Let our horns blow, sire, I too will ride with you.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“A bolt in time saves twine,” quoth her man.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>When Gaillard returned that morning, and Peter -of Savoy heard the news of Dan Barnabo’s death, and -the way the mesne lords had called out their men, he -smiled at Gaillard very grimly, and twitted him with -the little that he had done.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“You are clever at lighting bonfires, my Gascon,” -he said. “But singeing the bear makes him only madder. -We have no need of our clerks and lawyers, for when -such work is afoot we can shut justiciar, coroner, and -sheriff up in the same box. Will any man tell me that -I have no right of private war in my own manors. The -King is defied! Go to now, we have our warrant.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Gaillard showed his teeth, and shot a stealthy, -swaggering look towards Etoile.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“To catch the fox, sire, we must have hounds enough.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Take them, my boaster, and sweep the countryside. -We will ride with you to see the chase.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“And madame, also? We will show her how these -pigs of Englishmen can run.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>That same evening as the sun sank low, Denise went -down to draw water at the spring. The woods were -full of a glory of gold, and the chequered shadows of the -trees fell upon the brown leaves, and the vivid grass. -The gorse seemed lit as for the evening of All Souls. -Perfumes rose out of the pregnant earth. A hundred -thrushes seemed chanting a vesper song.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The heart of Denise also was full of strange, elfin -music. There was a smile upon her mouth, and her -eyes caught the enchanted distance of dreams. As she -drew water at the spring and the ripples of the pool -were inset with gold, she sang to herself softly, a song -that she had learnt as a young girl, a song of the tower, -and not of the cell.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Aymery heard her singing as she came across the -glade to the gate of the garden. The door of the cell -stood open, but Denise had hung her cloak so as to -hide the bed.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>When she came in to him, Aymery watched her with -the eyes of a man whose heart is troubled. For he -felt the guilt of his presence in that place, and the fairness -of Denise had made him afraid. True, she had taken -no formal vows, but to the world she was a creature -whose very feet made the brown earth holy.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“No news of Grimbald?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“None.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Her deep voice thrilled him, but he stirred uneasily -upon the bed.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I have gained strength to-day.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Do not waste it, then, lord,” she answered him.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>His eyes pleaded with her like the eyes of a dog.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Give me a hand, Denise; I will try if I can -stand.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“No; why, you will but open your wounds again.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“My thoughts are more to me than my wounds, -Denise.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>He struggled up suddenly before she could hinder -him, only to turn faint and dizzy, for the blood fell from -his brain. He swayed, and went grey as Denise’s gown.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Are you mad, lord; you will die of your wilfulness!”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>She put her arm about his shoulders, and her hair -brushed against his cheek.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Denise, if I could so much as crawl——”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>His wistfulness woke a rush of tenderness in her.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“No, no, rest here.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Rest! I cannot rest, cannot you understand?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Denise’s arm was still about his shoulders. They -looked into each other’s eyes, one long look full of mystery, -of sadness, and unrest.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“My heart understands you,” she said very softly. -“Yet, is there shame in my wishing you to live.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>She let him lie back on the bed, and taking the wine, -she made him drink, and her hand brushed the hair from -off his forehead.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“You must sleep,” she said. “No harm can come -while I am watching.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>And Aymery’s eyes were full of a silent awe.</p> - -<div><h1 class='nobreak'>CHAPTER VIII</h1></div> - -<p class='pindent'>There was a sound of horns in the woodlands as the -morning of the second day drew towards noon, and Denise, -who had gone down towards Goldspur to discover whether -Grimbald or any of the villagers had returned, heard -the distant winding of the horns, and stood still to -listen.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The day was sunny, with a light breeze blowing, and -Denise could see no live thing stirring in the whole valley -where the ashes of Goldspur still threw out silver smoke. -Yet those distant horns beyond the hills seemed to -carry a cry of strangeness and unrest. Denise would -have given much to know all that was passing yonder, -but no man came that way and she dared not leave the -beech wood, and the wounded man in the cell. The very -silence and emptiness of the landscape filled her with -vague dread. No one had dared to return to the fields -or the burnt village. The hawk was still hovering, -and the small birds kept their cover.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Aymery was asleep when Denise returned to the -cell, but he woke at her coming, and looked up at her -for news.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I have seen nothing but the smoke from Goldspur,” -she said calmly enough. “Grimbald and the people -still keep to the woods. They may be with us any -hour.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Aymery lay quiet for a while as though sunk in -thought. His consciousness reflected clearly the meaning -of the past and the promise of the future.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“So they have burnt Goldspur,” he said, as though -speaking the words of a prayer.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Denise had set the door wide, and drawn a stool into -the sunlight.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Surely there is some law left in the land?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“We have surfeited ourselves with law,” he said -bitterly; “only to learn that the law bows itself to -the man with the sword and the title.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Denise leant back against the rough oak door-post.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“You will build the house again?” she asked.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>He did not answer her for a moment.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“No, not yet,” he said at last. “The sword is the -first tool that we Englishmen must handle. These Frenchmen -laugh at us, calling us English swine, but the day -is near when the tusks of the English boar shall be red -with their blood.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>He spoke with the fierceness of the man of the sword, -but Denise’s heart was with him, though her hands -were held to be hands of mercy.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Such men as Hubert of Kent, they are our need,” -she said.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Hubert! The land shall give us a hundred Huberts,” -and his face blazed up at her. “It will be the bills of -England against the spears of this hired scum from France -and Flanders, these dogs in the service of dogs who have -plundered our lands and shamed our women. They -have laughed at us, robbed us, made a puppet of our -king. ‘Get you to England,’ has been the cry, ‘It is a -land of fools, of heavy men stupid with mead and swine’s -flesh. Take what you will. The savages will only gape -and grumble.’ But I tell you, Denise, the heart of -England has grown hot with a slow, sure wrath. We -are Normans no longer, nor Saxons, nor Danes. Men -are gripping hands from sea to sea. God see to it, but -the years will prove that England is England, the land -of the English, and woe to those who shall trifle with -our strength.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Like a mocking voice came the cry of a horn, echoing -tauntingly amid the hills. Another took up the blast, -and yet another, cheerily braying through the young -green of the woods. The two in the cell were mute for -the moment, looking questioningly into each other’s -eyes.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Aymery raised himself upon his elbow.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“The Savoyard’s men!”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Denise’s eyes were full of a startled brightness.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Why not Waleran?” she asked him as she stood -listening at the door.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I know the sound of our Sussex horns.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>She stepped out into the sunlight, and went swiftly -down the path towards the gate.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Lie still,” she called to him. “I will go and see -what may be learnt.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Denise knew every alley in the wood, and her grey -gown glided westwards amid the dark boles of the trees. -Ever and again the horns sang lustily to one another, -coming nearer and ever nearer, swelled by the faint but -ominous tonguing of dogs. Denise went forward more -slowly, pausing often to listen, her brown eyes growing -more watchful as the sounds came nearer to her through -the maze of the woods. She could feel even her own -heart beating; and her face sharpened with the keenness -of her vigilance.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Denise drew back abruptly behind the trunk of a -great tree. She had heard a crackling of dry leaves, a -sound of men moving, voices calling in harsh undertones, -one to the other. She crouched down amid the gnarled -tree roots, her lips apart, her eyes at gaze. The heavy -breathing of tired beasts came to her, with the rustle -of leaves, and the quick plodding of many feet. As she -crouched there she saw figures go scurrying away through -the mysterious shadowland of the woods. Some were -mounted on forest ponies, others fleeing on foot. One -man passed within ten yards of Denise, his mouth open, -his hands clawing the air beside him as he ran. None -of them saw her, none of them looked back. They disappeared -like so many flitting shadows, and a second -silence covered their tracks as water closes behind the -keel of a ship.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Denise tarried no longer, but rose and ran back -towards the cell. Those flying shadows amid the beech -trees had told her all that she could need to know. As -for Aymery, she must hide him and take her chance. -Her gown gleamed in and out through shadow and sunshine, -while the tonguing of the dogs and the scream -of the horns haunted her like the discords of a -dream.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Denise had half crossed the clearing when she saw -a sight that made her catch her breath. Close by the -gate lay Aymery, propping himself upon one arm, his -head drooping like the head of a man who has been -smitten through with a sword.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>She ran to him, her eyes a-fire.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Lord, what have you done?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>He lifted his face to her, a face that was grey and -moist in the sunlight. She saw that the linen swathings -over his shoulder were red with vivid stains.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I have time—yet.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Denise bent over him.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“You are mad, you are bleeding anew.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Give me wine, Denise; I can crawl, if I cannot -walk.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>She put her arms about him and tried to lift him to -his feet.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“No, no, come back to the cell. They are beating -the woods. I saw men flying for their lives.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Aymery clung to her, and gained his feet.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Denise, I must take my chance, help me into the -woods.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>But his eyes went dim and blind in the sunlight, -and Denise, as she looked at him, uttered a sharp, -passionate cry.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Lord, you have tempted death enough. Come. -There is no time to lose.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Denise was strong beyond her strength as she put -an arm about him, and half led, half carried him into -the cell. She let Aymery sink upon the bed, and covered -him with the coverlet that he had thrown aside.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“For God’s love, lie still,” she said. “Should -they come this way I will put them off with lies.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Denise went out from him and closed the door. For -a moment a great faintness seized her, for she had taxed -her very soul in carrying Aymery within. The sunlight -flashed and flickered before her eyes, so that she put -her hands up before her face, and leant, trembling, -against the door. But the sound of the horns and the -dogs grew louder in the beech wood, and Denise’s strength -came back to her with that fine courage that women -show when life and death hang in the balance.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>With one quick glance at the woods she went down -on her knees on the stone-paved path, and began to -pull up the few weeds that she could find in the borders. -Her hair had become loosened in her flight through the -wood, and hung in waves about her neck and shoulders. -Denise kept her eyes on the ground before her, though -her ears were straining to catch the slightest sound. -She prayed as she knelt there, as she had never prayed -for a boon before, that these men might pass by without -seeing the dark thatch of her cell.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The trampling of many horses swelled the shrill -whimpering and tonguing of the dogs. A horn blared -close by. The wood seemed full of voices, of swift -movement, of hurrying sounds. Denise heard the laughter -of a woman peal out suddenly, strange and unfamiliar -in the midst of such a chorus. A man’s voice shouted a -fierce command. The whole wood about the place seemed -to become alive with colour, and the gleam and clangour -of steel.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Denise bent her head over the brown soil and gave -no sign. Her fingers plucked at a tuft of grass, but could -not close on it because of their great trembling. Her -heart told her that these people would not pass by. -Swiftly, half fearfully, she raised her head, and looked -up over the wattle fence.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Before her the shadowy wood seemed to swim with -the faces and figures of armed men. Horses crowded -in with tossing manes, shields flickered, surcoats with -many colours. Brown-faced archers walked between -the horses, their steel caps shining, bows ready with -arrows on the strings. Rangers and servants held the -dogs in leash, sweating, panting men who cursed the -beasts that strained, and yelped, and rose upon their -haunches.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>In the forefront of the whole rout, like a great gem -set in the centre of a crown, Denise saw a woman seated -on a milk-white horse. Her green gown was diapered -over with golden lilies, and in her hand she carried a bow. -The woman’s face was flushed with riding, and her hair -disordered in its golden caul. On her right hand rode -a lord in a surcoat of purple, and the trappings of his -horse were of white and blue. On her left, with a drawn -sword over his shoulder, Denise saw the man who had -surprised her at the spring.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Since there was no help for it, Denise sat back upon -her heels, her face flushed with stooping over the soil. -All those hundred eyes seemed fastened upon her. Yet -there was a sudden silence save for the whimpering and -the chafing of the dogs.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Over the wattle fence, and across the narrow stretch -of grass, the eyes of the woman on the white horse met -the eyes of Denise. And some instant instinct of enmity -seemed to flash between the two, as though—being women—they -could read each other’s hearts.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Denise saw her turn to Gaillard, and point with her -bow in the direction of the cell. The Gascon laughed, -and pretended to pray to the cross of his sword. Then -he flapped the bridle upon the neck of his horse, and rode -forward to speak with Denise.</p> - -<div><h1 class='nobreak'>CHAPTER IX</h1></div> - -<p class='pindent'>Gaillard rode up to the wicket and saw Denise kneeling -on the path with weeds and grass tufts scattered along -the stones. Paltry, misplaced labour, this, for a woman -with such a body and such eyes and hair! Gaillard had -his grudge against Denise, and though his impulse was -to humble her, he could not forget how the morning -sunlight had struck upon her that morning at the pool.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“The best of matins to you, Sanctissima,” he said. -“I trust that you are rid of your sins as easily as you -are rid of those weeds.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Denise rose to her feet, his scoffing voice bringing the -colour to her face. The look in Gaillard’s eyes made -her hate him, a jeering, masterful, boastful look that -showed that he was insolently sure of himself, and knew -how to play the bully on occasions.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“What would you, messire?” and she felt her face -hot under the man’s eyes.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Gaillard stared her over, as though he had no high -opinion of women, and especially of those who were -comely and yet pretended to be righteous.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Holy Sister,” and his eyes looked beyond her -towards the cell, “why do you shut your door so close -of a May morning?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>His red eyes flashed down at her again, and Denise, -with a fierce burning of the cheeks, felt that he was -watching her, and that her secret might hang upon the -tremor of a word.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“You are curious over trifles,” she said curtly. -“I live alone here after my own fashion. What would -you with all your dogs and men?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Gaillard heeled his horse close to the gate. Count -Peter, Etoile, and all their company watched and -waited.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Come nearer, Sanctissima,” said the Gascon, keeping -his eyes fixed upon her face.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Denise did not stir.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Come now, saint of the beech woods, put your -pride aside, and let us talk together. And keep those -eyes of yours from anger. It may be that I can give -service for service.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>He spoke softly to her, almost suggestively, but -Denise hated his smoothness more than his insolence.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I do not understand you, messire,” she said.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Gaillard’s eyes grew keen and greedy.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Such a woman as you, my lady, should not be rash -in refusing courtesies. Now, if I ask you to open yonder -door?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>She tried to outstare him, but his eyes seemed to -look her innocence through and through.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Say what you please,” she said. “Men fled through -the wood here before you came. But I have not meddled -in your affairs.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>He tossed his head back suddenly and laughed, so -that Denise saw the red roof of his mouth above his -smooth, strong, shining chin.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Sister, do they write of such things in heaven? -Clerks tell us a tale that whenever a cock crowed, St. -Peter was seized with a spasm of coughing. Who is it -that you are hiding, yonder?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Denise stood dumb before him. The man’s face -mocked her like the face of a mocking Faun.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I have no answer for you, messire,” she said. “Go -back to those who sent you, and to your horns and -your dogs.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>She turned slowly, meaning to reach the cell and -bar the door, hoping the last hope that these people -would ride on and leave her in peace. But Gaillard was -too shrewd to be cheated thus. He struck his horse -with the spurs, set him at the low fence, cleared it, and -trampling the garden under foot, put himself between -Denise and the cell.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“A capture, a capture!”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>He laughed down in Denise’s face, as he waved his -sword to those who were waiting on the fringes of the -beech wood.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The flash of the Gascon’s sword brought the whole -rout swarming down upon the place, dogs, men, and -horses, fur, steel and colour. The wattle fence went -down before them; the herbs and the spring flowers -were trampled into the soil. A horse plunged and -reared close beside Denise, so that she had a glimpse of a -black muzzle with the teeth showing, and soaring hoofs -ready to crush her to the earth. Some unknown hand -thrust her roughly aside, when a hound sprang at her, -and was dragged back snarling on the end of a leash. -Suddenly in the whirl of it she found Gaillard beside her -on his horse, pushing the beast forward so as to shelter -her from the rout that had stormed in as though half -Waleran’s rebels held the hermitage.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Back, fools,” and he struck at some of them with -the flat of his sword. “Out, out! Who called for a -charge?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>He turned his horse this way and that, driving the -men back, and clearing a space about the cell.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Roland, on guard there, man, by the door. Stand -to your arms, sirs; am I captain of a drove of swine?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>There was something fine in the way he wheeled his -great horse to and fro, driving men and dogs like so many -sheep. Denise, her hair falling upon her shoulders, -drew back towards the cell, her senses dazed for the -moment by all this violence and roughness.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The crowd of armed men parted suddenly, and through -the gap between their swords and lances came riding the -woman on the milk-white horse, haughty, yet smiling, -her bow across her knees. Peter of Savoy rode close -beside her, a quiet, noiseless man, whose cold eyes were -more dangerous than a dozen swords. Gaillard wheeled -towards them, touching his horse with the spur so that -the beast caracoled and showed off his lord’s masterfulness -in the saddle.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Peter of Savoy smoothed his beard with a gloved hand -that showed a great ruby upon the leather.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“What have we here, my friend? The lady in -the grey gown looks as though she would kill you an she -could.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Gaillard laughed, and glanced at Etoile.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“That is our Lady of the Woods, sire, a saint whom -the boors worship. Yet I might swear that she has -more than her scourge, her stone bed, and her cross in -that cell.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Etoile’s black eyes covered Denise.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Does a saint carry such a fleece of hair,” she -sneered. “This man-chase pleases me better and -better, sire. See how Madame Dorcas is standing on live -coals!”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>She laughed, and looked at Denise, tilting her chin, -her eyes inquisitively insolent.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Have the door opened, sire, and let us see what her -man is like.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Peter of Savoy glanced shrewdly at Etoile.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“How fair women love one another! Rosamond’s -cup is always ready to the hand.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Denise had drawn back close to the door of the cell, -and stood leaning against the wall under the shadow -of the overhanging thatch. Her hair seemed to burn -under that band of shade like stormy sunlight under a -ragged cloud. Her hands were folded over her bosom, -her brown eyes fixed on the white forehead of Etoile’s -horse. There was no furtiveness about her face, no -flickering of a half confessed shame. The open space -between her and Gaillard’s men seemed to symbolise -something, perhaps an awe of her that made these rough -men of the sword hold back.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Etoile pointed with her bow towards the door, and -her eyes challenged Denise.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Perhaps our Holy Sister will satisfy us with an -oath,” she said. “For the lips of a saint cannot utter -a lie.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Denise answered her nothing, and Etoile’s face darkened -maliciously under her golden caul.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Will you lay me a wager, sire?” and she tapped -Peter of Savoy on the knee with her bow.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>His eyes gleamed at her.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“A star is made wise by the stars; I keep an open -mind.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Then have the door opened, and let us see whether -this good woman cannot hide a lover.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Peter of Savoy nodded towards the cell, and Gaillard -wheeled his horse, catching a glimpse of Denise’s white -and waiting face.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Roland, Jean, Guillaume!”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>His strident voice rang out. The three men stood -forward with their eyes fixed on him. Gaillard pointed -with his sword to the door of the cell.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Open it.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>They turned to obey him, one of the fellows forcing -the door back with the point of his sword, all three of -them upon the alert with their shields forward as though -expecting the rush of armed men.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The door had swung back showing nothing but a -shadowy interior, a dark and deep recess in the midst -of the day’s sunlight. The three men craned their heads -over their shields. Gaillard heeled his horse forward, -and ordered the men aside. Stooping low in the saddle -he looked into the cell, his face lean and intent, his eyes -like the eyes of a suspicious dog. At first he could distinguish -nothing. Then he laughed very softly, straightened -in the saddle, and looked down at Denise.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Perhaps, Sister, your bed works miracles!” he -said.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>He laughed a little more loudly, his mouth mocking -her, his eyes sparkling over the humbling of her pride. -The three men began to laugh also. The pother seemed -as infectious as the cackling in a farmyard; the dogs -opened their mouths, and bayed; the wood became full -of stupid, Bacchic mirth.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Etoile laughed as loudly as any of the men, yet with -a metallic hardness that was not beautiful.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Here is a quaint tale,” she said. “Who is it, -the lord of Goldspur, did someone say? She has prayed -over him like a saint!”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The woman’s shrill laughter stung Denise like the -lash of a whip. Her lips moved, but she said nothing.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>They were all laughing, and looking upon Denise -when a man appeared in the doorway of the cell. He -was unarmed, with reddened bandages about one shoulder, -and his white face blazed out from the shadows as though -all the wrath in the world burnt like a torch behind -his eyes. There was something so grim and scornful -about that face that the men nearest him fell back, -silenced, repulsed, crowding upon one another.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Aymery came out into the sunlight. He looked -right and left, his eyes sweeping the circle of rough faces, -and leaving on each the mark of his sharp contempt. -Gaillard alone had a smile upon his face. He sat in the -saddle with his sword over his shoulder, and pouted out -his lips as though to whistle. Denise had not turned -her head. Yet it was as though she were trying to look -at Aymery without betraying the quest of her brown -eyes, for Etoile was watching her with a sneer lifting the -corners of her mouth.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Aymery glanced up at the Gascon, and then beyond -him towards Lord Peter and the lady.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Gaillard laughed aloud.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“It is our friend who ran away from us two nights -ago,” he said. “I hope you were happy, sir, hiding -under a lady’s bed.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Aymery’s knees shook under him, and his eyes had -turned to grey steel.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“If your heart and mouth are foul,” he said, “make -no boast thereof, my hireling. God give me the chance -some day, and I will choke you with those words.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>He held his head high, and looked Gaillard in the -eyes. But the strength was ebbing from him; he had -lost more blood. Two of the Gascon’s men caught him -by the arms as he began to totter.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Etoile touched Count Peter with her bow.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“The man has courage in him. We have bated him -enough.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The lord of the castles smiled like a cynic.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“We men are so deserving of pity, we are such fine -fellows! Lend him your horse, my desire!”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Peter of Savoy laid a hand over his heart, looking -at Etoile under half-closed lids as though she were a -child to be humoured. He gave Gaillard his orders. -A spare horse was led forward, and Aymery lifted into the -saddle. He held to the pommel with both hands, trying -to steady himself, a confusion of faces before his eyes.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Wine, and I shall not hinder you.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>A horn set with silver and closed with an ivory lid, -passed from hand to hand. It had come from the wallet -that hung from Etoile’s saddle. A soldier held it to -Aymery’s mouth, steadying him with one arm. Aymery -drank, his hand shaking, so that the red wine stained his -chin.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Thanks, friend, for that.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>He gave the horn back again, raised his head, and -looked round him for Denise. She was still leaning -against the wall of the cell. Their eyes met for a moment -in one quick look that left sadness and joy and pain in -the hearts of both.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Gaillard’s voice rang out. A horn screamed. Dogs, -men, and horses moved suddenly like a crowd that has -been held behind a barrier. Etoile remained motionless -upon her horse, watching the men pass by her with -Aymery in their midst. Already Gaillard’s red surcoat -beaconed towards the gloom of the beech wood, the -sun shining upon it so that it looked the colour of -blood.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Peter of Savoy loitered beyond the trampled garden, -waiting for Etoile, and wondering what whim kept her -near the cell. The men had streamed away before she -turned her horse and walked the beast slowly past Denise. -And she stared at Denise boldly as she passed, her black -eyes mocking her from the vantage of her horse.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Sweet dreams to you, Holy Sister!” she said.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>And she rode on laughing, and leapt her horse over -the wattle fence.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Denise stood there motionless, her face bleak and cold, -her eyes looking into the distance as though they saw -and understood nothing. Suddenly her face blazed -with a rush of blood. She hung her head, and -seemed to be praying.</p> - -<div><h1 class='nobreak'>CHAPTER X</h1></div> - -<p class='pindent'>So briskly did the Lord of Pevensey sweep the woods -that Maytide, hunting his enemies with horn and hound, -that he drove such mesne lords as had drawn the sword -beyond his borders into other parts. The mere gentleman -and the yeoman could make no fight of it as yet -against a great lord who held the castles. The peasants -were cowed by the lances of the troopers; a few still -lurked in the deeps of the woods, chased hither and -thither like wild things that fly from the cry of the hound. -The finer and fiercer spirits fled with savage thoughts -in their hearts, counting on the day when their chance -should come again. Waleran de Monceaux took refuge -in Winchelsea, and joined himself to the men of that -town. Others galloped away to seek Earl Simon, and -to ease their wrath under De Montfort’s banner. As -for Grimbald the priest, he lay near to death, hidden -near a swineherd’s hovel, stricken with the wounds that -he had gotten him at Goldspur manor.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>When Waleran de Monceaux, that man of the fierce -face and the bristling beard, fled to Winchelsea town, -he rode by the Abbey of Battle as the dawn was breaking -and halted there and called for food. He and his men -had touched neither meat nor bread for a day and a -night. Some were wounded, all of them ragged, famished, -and caked with the mire of the woodland ways. The -hosteler looked sulkily at these savage and beaten men. -Love them he could not because of their importunity, -and their great hunger. And while they cursed him -because of his slowness, he sent word to the Abbot, -desiring his commands.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Abbot Reginald’s message came to him with curt -good sense.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Feed them, and be rid of them.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>So Waleran and his men had their paunches filled, -because Reginald of Battle was a man of discretion -and desired to keep his lands untainted. There were -sundry inconveniences that clung even to the right -of sanctuary and such high prerogatives. Reginald of -Brecon was a smooth and astute man, a fine farmer, -and keen as any Lombard. He would have no neighbour’s -sparks from over the hedge setting fire to his own -hayrick. If fools quarrelled, he could pray for both -parties, and hold up the Cross benignantly, provided no -one came trampling his crops.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>In those days Dom Silvius was almoner at the Abbey, -a quiet, sharp-faced, gliding mortal, very devout yet -very shrewd. Men said that Dom Silvius loved his -“house” better than he loved his soul. Never was a -mouse more quick to scent out peas. He knew the -ploughlands in every manor, every hog in every wood, -how much salt each pan should yield, the value of the -timber and the underwood, the measure of the corn ground -at the mills, the honey each hive yielded, the number of -fish that might be taken from the stews. The Abbey’s -charter, and each and every several bequest might have -been written on Dom Silvius’s brain. He was ever on -the alert, ever contriving, and such a man was to be -encouraged. His brethren loved him, for he was not -miserly towards the “girdle,” and their pittances -were bettered by Dom Silvius’s briskness. What -did it matter if a monk meddled with more than -concerned him, provided the buildings were in good -repair, and his brethren had red wine to warm their -bellies.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Dom Silvius’s ears were always open. He was a -quiet man who did not frighten folk, but he learnt their -secrets, and he often touched their money. Few lawyers -could have snatched a grant from under the almoner’s -cold, white fingers. He was a man of foresight, and of -some imagination. Property to him was not merely a -matter of so many plough teams and so many hides, -pannage for hogs, and grindings at the mill. The Church -held all charters in the land of the Spirit; she could -take toll from the lay folk, and make them pay for using -her road to heaven.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The very day that Waleran rode through Battle, -Dom Silvius walked with folded arms and bowed head -into the Abbot’s parlour. He stood meekly within the -door, his face full of a smooth humility, his eyes fixed -upon the rushes.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Abbot Reginald trusted greatly in this monk. The -man was ever courteous and debonair, never turbulent -or facetious, always inspired for the “glory” of his -“house.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“The blessing of the day, Brother. What business -lies between us?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Dom Silvius lifted his eyes for the first time to his -superior’s face.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“If I repeat myself, Father, my importunity is an -earnest failing. It concerns the Red Saint for whom -Olivia of Goldspur built a cell.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Reginald of Brecon leant back in his chair, and -closed the book that he had been reading.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“The woman whom they call Denise?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Silvius looked demure, as though his sanctity were -especially sensitive where a woman was concerned.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Her fame has become very great these months,” -he said quietly.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“You covet it, Silvius.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The almoner bowed his head.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I grudge no soul its good works, Father. But in -these days of burnings, and of spilling of blood——”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“The woods have grown perilous, Silvius, with Lord -Peter’s men abroad.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“That is the very truth, sir. There is no place safe -outside the sanctuaries. I have heard it said that the -Prior of Mickleham has offered protection to the -woman.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Abbot Reginald smiled, the smile of a philosopher.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Speak your thoughts, brother.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Silvius spread his hands.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“The woman is certainly a saint,” he said. “It -is common report that she has worked many and strange -cures. And, lord, with the foresight of faith I look -towards the future. From simple beginnings great -things have arisen. We do not draw pilgrims here—to -our Abbey. How much glory, sir, has the altar of -Canterbury won by the swords of those violent men.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Reginald of Brecon saw Dom Silvius’s vision.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“A hundred years hence, brother, we shall be blessed -through the relics of St. Denise!”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Silvius had no mistrust of his inspiration.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“The maid is certainly miraculous,” he said. “We -could grant her a cell within our bounds.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>He of the mitre put the tips of his fingers in opposition.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Our brethren of Mickleham or of Robertsbridge -would forestall us, if they could?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“They love their ‘houses,’ Father, and for that I -praise them.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Worthy men! Where would you lodge her, Silvius?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“There is that stone cot near Mountjoye, sir, with -the croft below it. We could set up a cross there that -would be seen from the road. If the maid can but work -miracles here, people will flock to her; then gifts can -be laid upon our altar.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>A sudden clangour of bells from the tower brought -the almoner’s audience to an end. Reginald of Brecon -rose, and laid aside his book.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“What does the woman say?” he asked, touching -the core of Silvius’s conception.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“That, lord, must be discovered. If I have your -grace in this——?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Go, Brother, and prosper.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>And Silvius went out noiselessly from the parlour, -his hands hidden in the sleeves of his habit.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Though the may was whitening in the woods, and -the blue bells spread an azure mist above the green, -May was a harsh and rugged month that year, with north -winds blowing, and the sky hard and grey. And Dom -Silvius when he mounted a quiet saddle horse and trotted -away followed by two servants, drew his thick cloak -about him, and was glad of his gloves and his lamb’s-wool -stockings.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Up in the beech wood above Goldspur the wind -made a restless moan through the branches of the trees. -Sometimes the sun struck through the racing clouds, and -a wavering chequer of light and shadow fell on the thin -forest grass. There was a shimmer of young green everywhere, -yet the year seemed sad and plaintive as though -chilled to heart by the north winds.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Denise, wrapped in her grey cloak, wandered that -morning along the grass paths of her trampled garden, -brooding over the wreck thereof. Here were her thyme -and lavender bushes trodden under foot, or snapped and -shredded by the browsing teeth of a horse. Crushed -plants peered at her pathetically from the pits where -hoofs had sunk into the soft soil; a bed of pansies seemed -to scowl at her with their quaint and many-coloured faces, -as though reviling her for having brought such barbarians -to trample them. Almost the whole of the wattle fence -had fallen, dragging down into the dirt the roses that had -been trained to it.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Yet never had Denise’s garden been a more intimate -part of herself than that May morning with the wind -tossing the beech boughs against a heavy sky. What a -change from yesterday, what a breaking in of violent -life, what revelations, what regret! The quiet days -seemed behind her, far in the distance, for the vivid -present had made even the near past seem unreal. As -for her own heart, Denise was almost afraid to look therein. -It was like her garden, with the barriers broken, and the -life of yesterday trodden into the soil.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>She had tried to put these passionate things from -her, and to turn again to the life that she had known. -There were a hundred things for her hands to do, but -do them she could not, for the will in her seemed dead. -Even the familiar trifles of her woodland hermitage were -full of treachery and of suggestive guile. Her bed, -Aymery had lain there. Her earthen pitcher, she had -brought him water therein. The very stones of the -path still seemed to show to her the stains of the man’s -blood. Memories were everywhere, memories that would -not vanish, and would not pale.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Denise’s face still burnt when she remembered -Etoile’s laughter, that hard, metallic laughter like the -clash of cymbals. The woman’s insolence showed her -the mocking face of the world, yet for the life of her, -Denise could not tear her thoughts from the happenings -of those two days. Had the whole country risen to jeer -at her, she could have suffered it because of the mystery -that made of the ordeal a sacrifice. She had not saved -the man, and yet she did not grudge all that she had -borne, all that she still might bear. The violence of -yesterday had opened the woman’s eyes in Denise. -The world had a new strangeness, and the chant of the -wind a more plaintive meaning.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>She had been unable to sleep with thinking of Aymery, -and of what had befallen him, for she still seemed to -see his white, furious face, throwing its scorn into the -scoffing mouths of the Gascon’s men. Nor could she -forget the last look that had passed between them, the -appeal in the man’s eyes as though he would have said -to her: “God forgive me, for all this.” Where were -they taking him, would they be rough with him, would -he die of his wounds upon the road? What offence -had he committed that his house should be burnt, and -his life hazarded, and who was this Peter of Savoy, -this Provençal that he should lord it over the men of -the land, claiming to act for his over-lord the King? -It was the right of the strong over the weak, the pride -of the men who held the castles crushing those who -refused to be exploited. The curse of a weak King -was over the country. These hawks of his whom he -had let loose in England obeyed no one, not even their -own lord.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>But Denise’s conscience took scourge in hand at -last, and drove her from her broodings and her visions. -Work, something to fill the mind, something tangible -to fasten the hands upon! What did it avail her to -loiter, to dream, and to conjecture? There was no -salvation in mere feeling. Her heart was turning to -wax in her, she who had worked for others, and who -had been knelt to as a saint. A rush of shame smote -her upon the bosom. The peasant women, these men -of the fields, what would they think of her if they could -read her thoughts? She had held up the Cross -before their eyes, and was forgetting to look at it -herself.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>So Denise drove herself to work that morning, lifting -the fallen fence and propping it with stakes, gathering -the wreckage, binding up the broken life of the place. -It eased her a little this labour under the grey sky, with -the wind in the woods, and the smell of the soil. For -in simple things the heart finds comfort, and idleness is -no salve to the soul.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>It was about noon when Dom Silvius came to the -clearing in the beech wood, and Denise, who was binding -up her trailing roses, saw figures moving amid the trees. -Her brown eyes were alert instantly as the eyes of a deer. -But there was nothing fierce about Dom Silvius’s figure, -and nothing martial or masterful about the paces of -his horse.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The almoner left the two servants under the woodshaw -and rode forward slowly over the grass. Silvius’s -eyes had a habit of seeing everything, even when they -happened to express a vacant yet inspired preoccupation. -He saw the scarred turf, the hoof marks everywhere, -the broken fence about the garden, the woman in the -grey cloak at work upon her roses.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Silvius kept a staid and thoughtful face till he had -come close to the hermitage. Then his eyes beamed -out suddenly as though he had only just discovered -Denise behind the spring foliage of her roses. And -Dom Silvius could put much sweetness into his smile -so that his face shone like the face of a saint out of an -Italian picture.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Peace to you, Sister; we were nearer than I -prophesied.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Denise lifted her head and looked at him. A rose -tendril had hooked a thorn in the cloth of her cloak. -And to Silvius as he gazed down into the questioning -brown of her eyes, that thorn seemed to point a moral.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I come as a friend,” he said, hiding his curiosity -behind smooth kindness. “Silvius the almoner of the -Abbey of Battle.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I have heard of you, Father,” she answered him.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Silvius smiled, as though there were no such thing -as spite and gossip in the world.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“May my grace fly as far as yours, Sister,” he said. -“You are wondering why I have ridden hither? Well, -I will tell you. It is because of the rumours of violence -and of bloodshed that have come to us. Even here, -I see that you have not been spared.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>He looked about him gravely, yet with no inquisitive, -insinuating briskness. His eyes travelled slowly round -the circle of the broken fence, and came to point at last -upon Denise.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I have come with brotherly greetings to you, Sister, -from Lord Reginald our Abbot. All men know what a -light has burnt here these many months upon the hills. -It is a holy fire to be cherished by us, and all men would -grieve to see it dimmed or quenched.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>After some such preamble he began to speak softly to -Denise, for he was a good soul despite his shrewdness, -and the woman’s face was like a face out of heaven. -He put the simple truth before her, speaking with a devout -fatherliness that betrayed no subtler motive. Peace -should be hers, and a sure sanctuary, roof, clothes, bed, -and garden, and a daily corrody from the Abbey. The -times were full of violence, lust, and oppression, and -Silvius feared for those far from the protecting shadow -of some great lord or priest. At Battle she should -enjoy all the sweetness of sanctity; she should have -even her flowers there, and he waved a hand towards -the ruinous garden.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Denise listened to him with a pale and unpersuaded -face. Perhaps a flicker of distrust had leapt up at first -into her eyes. But the monk’s simplicity seemed so -sincere a thing that she put distrust out of her heart.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>When he had ended, she looked towards the woods -in silence for a while, and Silvius made no sound, as -though he reverenced her silence, and understood its -earnestness.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“For all this I thank you, Father,” she said at last. -“But come to you I cannot. It is not in my heart to -leave this place.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Silvius smiled down at her very patiently.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Who shall deny that the Spirit must guide you. Yet -even St. Innocence may remember what God has given.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Denise reddened momentarily, and Silvius looked -away from her towards the sky.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I am not a child, Father,” she said simply. “The -people in these parts love me, and I, them. They will -return home in time, and will come and seek for me. -I should seem to them the worst of cowards, if they found -that I had fled.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Silvius was too sensitive and too shrewd to press his -importunity upon her, seeing that she was prejudiced -in her heart. He could leave her to think over what he -had said to her. Her pride might refuse to waver at -the first skirmish.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“You are living your life for others, Sister,” he said. -“Nor do we live in the midst of a wilderness at Battle. -Trust the Spirit in you; do not be misled. Yet I would -beseech you to remember what manner of world this is. -Had not St. Paul fled from the city of Damascus, the -Faith would have lacked a flame of fire.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Denise looked up at him with miraculous eyes.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“And yet, I would stay here,” she said.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“So be it, Sister; some day I will ride this way -again.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>So Denise sent Dom Silvius away, clinging with all -this strange new tenderness of hers to a place that seemed -sacred by reason of its memories. Yet if she had known -what others knew, or guessed what was passing beyond -her ken, she might have fled with Silvius that day, and -left her cell to the wild winds, the sun, and the rain.</p> - -<div><h1 class='nobreak'>CHAPTER XI</h1></div> - -<p class='pindent'>It was possible for such a man as Gaillard to be in love -with two women at one and the same moment, if indeed -what Gaillard felt for a woman could be called love. -Peter of Savoy was at Lewes, and the Gascon had the -command at Pevensey, and had taken to oiling his hair, -and having musk sewn up in a corner of his surcoat. -He and Etoile saw much of one another, but the lute -girl knew how to keep Gaillard at arm’s length. He -might play the troubadour, and make himself ridiculous -by singing under her window at night. Etoile wished to -try the man further before she trusted such a cousin -as Gaillard with her power over Count Peter of Savoy.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>One thing Etoile did not know, that Gaillard had -ridden more than once to the beech wood above Goldspur, -and that he had seen Denise, and come away feeling -baulked and foolish. The Red Saint had shut herself -obstinately in her cell, and as for singing her love songs, -even Gaillard had not the gross conceit to treat Denise -as he would have treated Etoile. Yet Gaillard had no -sense of the comic in life, and accepted himself with -such enthusiasm that anything was possible to so blatant -a creature. Display was a passion with him, and any -clouding of his conceit, an injury that made him scowl -like a spoilt child. Life had to be full of noise and -bustle, the blowing of trumpets, and the applause of -women. Gaillard was so much in love with himself -that he ran about like a fanatic waving a torch, and -expecting all the world to listen to what he said.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The Gascon might be a fool, but he was a pernicious -fool in those rough days, when there was a woman to -be pleased. Denise had shut her door on him, but Gaillard -did not doubt but that she would open it in due season. -Her pride was a thing on the surface, so Gaillard told -himself, and she had more to surrender than had most -women. Etoile also was unapproachable, but in very -different fashion to Denise. The one was a white glare -that blinded and repulsed, the other a glittering point -that lured and kept its distance. And Gaillard, like a -great gross red moth, blundered to and fro, making a -great flutter.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Etoile had much of the spirit of those Byzantine -women who had the devil’s poison under their tongues. -Gaillard amused her. It pleased her to discover how -far she could drive him into making a fool or a cur of -himself, even as she might tease Count Peter’s leopards, -playing on their jealousy, or tantalising them by holding -out food and snatching it away between the bars. And -Etoile’s ingenuity searched out an adventure that should -show her how far Gaillard could be trusted. She was -shrewd enough to realise that the man might be of use -to her. Peter of Savoy was but a child with a play-thing. -It was worth Etoile’s discretion to have a man -upon whom she could rely.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Gaillard grew more importunate, and was for ever -offering her his homage. “Well,” said Etoile to herself, -“let him prove himself, but not in the matter of brute -courage.” She knew that it is always more dangerous -for a man to be tempted than to be dared. And Etoile -gave Gaillard a tryst at dusk among the cypresses of -Count Peter’s garden, and turning on him like a cat -challenged Gaillard to prove his faith.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>No man was ever more astonished than the Gascon -when she told him what she would have him do. At -first he hailed the devil of mischief in her, but Etoile -was in earnest, and flamed up when he laughed at her. -Gaillard shrugged his shoulders, and saw destiny stirring -the live coals of his desire.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“It would be simpler to bring you her head,” he said, -wondering whether Etoile knew more than she had betrayed. -“Cut off the woman’s hair, indeed! The -folk yonder would crucify me, if they caught me harming -their saint.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Etoile looked him in the eyes.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“You are for ever shouting at me to prove you -my Gaillard. Here is your chance. There is often some -wisdom in a whim. You are to bring me her wooden -cross, too, remember, as well as a piece of her -hair.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Gaillard, uneasy under Etoile’s eyes, hid his more -intimate thoughts behind an incredulous obstinacy. He -could have scoffed at the absurdity of the thing. And -yet, when he looked at it squarely, the adventure was -not so physically absurd. What did it mean but the -robbing of one woman to win another, the plundering -of one treasure house to use the spoil to bribe the keeper -of other treasures! The fine rascality of the thing -delighted him. He threw back his head and laughed, -though Etoile mistook the meaning of his laughter.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“You have not the courage, Gaillard, eh? The man -who sings under my window must be something better -than a troubadour fool.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Gaillard bit his nails as though in the grip of a dilemma. -The devil in him applauded. He could have clapped -himself on the back over the broad humour of his cleverness.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“What a road to set a man on, my desire,” he said, -looking rather sullen over it. “There is a sin that they -call sacrilege——”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Etoile clapped her hands.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Cousin Gaillard with a conscience! Oh, you fool, -am I worth a piece of hair, and the wood of a cross?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Gaillard spread his arms.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Fool! Do you think that I want a man with -weak knees to serve me, a boy who empties half the cup -and then turns sick?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Gaillard made a show of faltering, rocking to and -fro on his heels, and looking at her under half closed -lids.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Assuredly,” said he, “you are a devil. And to win -a devil I will rob a saint.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Denise’s inward vision helped her so little those days -that she had no foreshadowings of Gaillard’s treachery. -He had shown none of his rougher nature to her when -he had ridden through the beech wood to her cell. And -Denise had let him talk to her once or twice, intent on -discovering all that had befallen Aymery since he had -fallen into the hands of Peter of Savoy. Only when -Gaillard had tried to come too near had she closed the -door on him, frightened by the look in the man’s eyes, -and yet feeling herself very helpless in that solitary wood. -For some days she had seen nothing of the Goldspur -folk, nor did she know whether Grimbald was dead or -alive. Gaillard had gone off sulking from the frost that -she had thrown out on him. Denise believed herself -rid of the man. And yet in her unrest, and loneliness, -she thought of what Dom Silvius had said to her, and was -half persuaded to put herself within sanctuary at Battle.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Gaillard had told her nothing about Aymery, save -that he was alive, and waiting the King’s pleasure. -And of all these happenings Aymery knew nothing as -he lay on the straw in a tower room at Pevensey. His -wounds were mending, for Peter of Savoy had some of -the instincts of a Christian, and had sent his own barber -surgeon to minister to Aymery’s needs. Yet the lord -of Goldspur manor thought little of his own wounds those -days.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Though Aymery’s flesh was free from fever, the spirit -chafed in him, tossing and turning with an unceasing -flux of thought. Those happenings at the hermitage -haunted him, and in the spirit he drank wine that was -both bitter and sweet, cursing himself for the helplessness -that had brought such things to pass, and laying to his -own charge all the shame that had fallen upon Denise.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Yet Aymery had other thoughts to trouble him, for -those hours at the hermitage came back more clearly -and vividly, as though they had happened in the twilight, -and been remembered in the day. He felt again the touch -of Denise’s hands, saw the gleam of her hair, and caught -the mystery of tenderness that had flashed and faded in -the deeps of her eyes. Aymery would be very still in -the narrow room, still as one who lies dead with a smile -on his lips, and in blind eyes a vision of things splendid.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Sometimes Aymery would take to preaching to himself, -growing sensible and almost prosy, like a merchant looking -methodically into his ledgers. Without doubt Grimbald -would be at Goldspur, the people would come back to -the village, they would think no shame of Denise, even -if they heard of the thing that she had attempted. The -quiet life would begin again, for there was no cause now -for my Lord Peter to harry the countryside. No harm -might come of all these adventures, and to insure that -end, Aymery preached to himself still further.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Heart of mine,” said he. “Denise is for no such -worldly desires. True, she has taken no sworn vows, -but for all that, my friend, she is as good as a nun. Take -heed how you tempt sacrilege. For to the people Denise -is a lady of many marvels. She is not of mere clay, -there is mystery yonder—and her love is the love of the -angels and the saints.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>In some such simple and sturdy fashion Aymery -spoke often to his own heart. Yet there was always -an enchanted distance shining beyond these vows of -his like a sunset seen through trees. Flashes of passion -lingered that should not linger. A look of the eyes, -a touch of the hand, such things are not forgotten.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>As for his own fortune, Aymery had no grip thereon; -he could only eat his food and shake up the straw of his -bed for comfort. He was mewed there, “waiting the -King’s pleasure,” a useful phrase in the mouth of a lord -who shared with others in persuading the King. Aymery -might have stood at his window and shouted “Charter” -till the barber surgeon decreed that he was turgid and -feverish, and should be bled. There was no such thing -as a rescue to be thought of. Presently he might scheme -at breaking out in other and grimmer fashion if they did -not release him. For there was still much talk in the -land of “Stephen’s days,” and it was said that when the -saints saved a soul, the devil erected a castle.</p> - -<div><h1 class='nobreak'>CHAPTER XII</h1></div> - -<p class='pindent'>Denise had some sign at last from the Goldspur folk, -for she found that offerings had been left at her gate, -and since her store of food had fallen to half a very dry -loaf and a pot of honey, she was carnally glad of such a -godsend.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The evening of the same day while she was at work -in her garden, two of Aymery’s villeins came out of the -wood, each carrying a bundle of ash stakes and an axe, -for they had heard that the saint’s fence was as flat in -places as the walls of Jericho. The two men, Oswald -and Peter, were a little shy of Denise, as though the -Goldspur conscience had accused the community of -neglecting the Red Saint. They told her that the cattle -had broken out from the pen, and strayed far and wide -through the woods. It had taken them days to recover -the beasts, and they had been hampered by the knowledge -that the men of Pevensey were still sweeping the hundreds -of the rape.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Both of the men knew that Aymery was a prisoner -at Pevensey, but they did not know that he had been -taken at the very doorway of the Red Saint’s cell. Nor -did Denise betray to them all that had passed; she had -too much pride and a sacred sense of secrecy for that. -Oswald and Peter set to work, their axes catching the -sunlight that sifted through the trees, white chips flying, -their brown faces intent and stolid. Denise stood and -watched them for a time, and Oswald, the elder of the -two, told her what had befallen Father Grimbald. A -swineherd had found him half dead in the woods, and -had hidden him in a saw-pit for fear of Gaillard and his -men. It had been a sharp escape, and a sharp sickness -for Grimbald. He was still in hiding, and being healed -of his wounds, and there was not a woman in the whole -hundred who would not have had her tongue cut out -rather than betray Grimbald to Peter of Savoy.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Dusk was falling before the men had finished mending -the fence, and a wind had risen like a restless and plaintive -voice, making the twilight seem more grey and melancholy. -The whole beech wood had begun to shiver with a sense -of loneliness that made the earth itself seem cold. Oswald -and Peter knelt down before Denise, and asked her to -bless them before they shouldered their axes and marched -off into the wood.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The two men followed the winding path that struck -the main “ride” running through the heart of the wood, -and they walked fast because of the twilight, and because -it was believed that the wood was haunted. For the -wilds were the haunts of the evil things of the night, -and when a saint lived a holy life in such a place she -was sure of being tempted and vexed by devils. The -tale of St. Guthlac of Crowland was a tale that was told -of many a saint. When the lamp of sanctity was lit -in some such wilderness the spirits of evil would fly -at it in fury, and seek to beat it out with the rush of -their black wings.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Oswald and Peter were no more superstitious than -their neighbours, but they were as timid as children in -the thick of that dark wood. And to frighten their -credulity a strange sound seemed on the gallop with the -gusts of the wind, a sound that was like the trampling -of a horse under the sad gloom of the trees. The sound -came so uncomfortably near to them, that Oswald and -Peter bolted into the underwood like a couple of brown -rabbits. And looking back half furtively, as they -scrambled through brambles and under hazels, they had -a glimpse of a great black shape rushing through the -darkness on the wings of the wind.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The two men did not wait to see more of it, but -got out of the wood as fast as their legs could carry -them.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“It was a ghost or a devil,” they said to one another. -“God defend us, but surely it is a terrible thing to be -a saint.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>They pushed on, heartily glad to be free of the far-reaching -hands of the spectral trees.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“It was good for us that we had the saint’s blessing.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“God and St. Martin hearten her. The devil vexes -those who live for good works.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Father Grimbald must know of it. He is man -enough to come and take a devil by the beard.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>So Oswald and Peter went back to their womenfolk -and their cattle, glad to be near warm bodies, snug under -their woodland huts. The night passed, and the dawn -came, a slow, stealthy dawn muffled in silver mist. Rabbits -scampered in the glades, brushing the dew from the wet -grass. Birds hunted for worms, and fluttered away to -feed their young. And the devil whom Oswald and -Peter had seen, sent the rabbits bolting for their burrows -as he rode away through the beech wood towards the -sea.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Before noon Etoile the lute girl had a wreath of hair -curled like a snake about the little wooden cross in her -lap. Gaillard had brought them to her, hiding a guilty -memory in the eyes behind a laughing swagger. The -Gascon’s voluble tongue was driven to deal very fancifully -with the adventure, since Etoile was very curious, and -intent on hearing everything. The Red Saint was very -ready to be worshipped, such was Gaillard’s explanation. -She was a little vainer than the majority of women, -and Gaillard shrugged his shoulders and laughed.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“A red apple is always a red apple,” he said. “Mother -Eve taught us that.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The mischievous devil in Etoile was not yet satisfied.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Never trust a saint, Gaillard,” she said. “I have -not forgotten that the man in the tower might be glad -of this piece of hair. It will give him something to -think about while he sits and nibbles straws. Take it -up and push it under his door, and tell him it comes -from his lady.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The joke caught Gaillard’s fancy. He climbed the -tower, and pushed the trophy under Aymery’s door -with the point of his poniard.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“A woman gave it me, my man,” he said. “But -since I have something better for a keepsake, you can -have the hair.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>He went away, laughing, a thorough Gascon in his -gross self-satisfaction. And Aymery picked up what -Gaillard had left him. He knew it for Denise’s hair, -for there was none like it in all those parts.</p> - -<div><h1 class='nobreak'>CHAPTER XIII</h1></div> - -<p class='pindent'>The may was budding into bloom, and Dom Silvius -came riding Goldspur way again, thinking of the many -things that may occupy the mind of a man who keeps -both eyes fixed upon the affairs of the “house.” Silvius’s -soul felt very comfortable within him that morning. -The bloom was setting well upon the orchard trees, -such a sea of foam that the autumn should be red with -fruit. Word had come from the shepherds in the pasture -lands that hardly a lamb had been lost that spring. -There was little sickness anywhere, but few poor to -need alms, and no shortage of dues from the tenants. -Dom Silvius made it his business to know of all these -things, even though they might not concern his authority. -He was like a child and a miser in his joy and carefulness -in working for the wealth and honour of his Abbey.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>So Dom Silvius came to the beech wood above Goldspur, -and followed the main ride, talking to himself -like a happy starling, for he rode alone that morning. -And he would lean forward and fondle his nag’s ears, -for the beast was provided by one of the tenants, and -Dom Silvius loved the horse because he had not to feed -him.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“A little more roundly, my good Dobbin,” he -prattled. “But beware of worldliness, for the sake -of my dignity; we must not bump like a butcher to -market. What will Sancta Denise say to us this morning? -The child should not set herself alone here like -a white dove for any hawk to swoop at. <span class='it'>Mea culpa</span>, -but the girl has hair like dead beech leaves touched by -the sun, saving, Dobbin, that the leaves have no glitter -of gold. And what eyes! God bless us, but we may -hope for miracles. And if the folk flock to be healed, -they shall lodge in the Abbey, and surely their gratitude -will make us rich.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The almoner sobered himself however when he turned -aside by the white stone that marked the path leading -to the hermitage. The woodlands might have eyes and -ears, and it would not be seemly for a man of Silvius’s -age and estate to be overheard babbling like a lover -who must talk even though it be only to his horse. So -he rode very demurely into Denise’s glade, with his chin -on his chest, and his lips moving as though he said a -prayer for every furlong.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The door of Denise’s cell was shut, nor could Dom -Silvius see her stirring in her garden. “Perhaps she is -abroad,” thought he, “or maybe she is at her prayers,” -so he rode up quietly, dismounted, and looped his bridle -over the post of the wicket gate. Then he went in and -up the path, and was about to knock softly, when the -door opened under his very hand, and Silvius saw a -figure in grey standing upon the threshold.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Dom Silvius dropped his eyes suddenly as though -he blamed himself for being surprised into staring at a -woman’s face.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“The grace of Our Lady to you, Sister,” he said. -“I was in doubt whether I should find you at home or -no.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Now Silvius was not a shred embarrassed, though -he pretended to a kind of saintly coyness. He had -his eyes on the sandalled feet that showed under the -hem of the grey gown. They were very comely feet, -with the brown straps of the sandals contrasting with -the nut brown of the skin, and Dom Silvius was thinking -how different these feet were with their arched insteps -and straight toes from the gouty and behumped members -that shuffled and progressed in the Abbey cloisters. -Yet in looking at Denise’s feet the almoner missed the -first shadows of a tragedy.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Denise stood very still, her hood drawn forward, -one hand holding the edge of the door. The face under -the hood expressed nothing, if despair be nothing more -than a pale, mute mask. Yet the eyes that looked at -the monk were the eyes of one whose blood was full of -a spiritual fever.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“It is Dom Silvius?” she asked at last, and her -voice sounded steady and even tame.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Silvius folded his hands together, and raised his -eyes to the level of Denise’s knees.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“You may remember, my Sister, how I said that I -might ride this way again.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>She was silent, as though absorbed by some memory -that pervaded all her consciousness. Silvius’s eyes -climbed a little higher and rested upon her bosom.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“We did not agree then, Sancta Denise. It may be -that you still love the life in the wilderness. The winter -is past with us, for which God be thanked; you will -have summer here, and the woods are pleasant in -summer. Perhaps you have your birds to feed. -The fruit promises well. I am never one for importunities.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>He spoke like a man who had rushed too quickly -towards the point aimed at, and who covered up his -retreat with irrelevancies. For Dom Silvius felt that -his wisdom had slipped for the once, and that he should -have begun with a digression. Women like love tokens -hidden in a posy of flowers, and passion pledged in a -song. But Denise’s directness saved Silvius from tracking -her whims through a maze.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Your words have been with me,” she said.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Her voice surprised him, so much so that he looked -up sharply into her face. The hood was drawn, but an -immovable mute pallor, a kind of deadness, struck on -Silvius’s eyes like the whiteness of a whitened wall.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I am not unthankful for that, Sister.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“And you are of the same mind?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“What God and the Church offer is ever an offer,” -he said, dropping his eyes again, and finding his intuition -in touch with something that was invisible, and yet to -be felt.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>He heard Denise draw her breath in deeply.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Sometimes we seem wise, sometimes foolish,” she -said. “Life teaches the heart many things. You -offer me some such place as this to lodge in? And that -I shall be alone?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Silvius threw aside vague conjectures, to seize the -prize he had long coveted.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“It is a sweet place,” said he. “With a garden, -and fruit trees, and a croft below it. The garden has -a good quick hedge all about it. As to the flesh, your -soul shall be as Solomon’s lily, Sanctissima. We have -no ritual for those whose eyes see into Paradise.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>So as the great purple cloud shadows drifted over the -young green of the beech wood, and the sun shone forth -with moments of gold, Dom Silvius warmed with his own -words, and in his kindling never so much as saw that -Denise listened like one who struggled against some inward -anguish. What light and shade were there over her own -soul as Silvius put his visions into his voice? The monk -thought her calm and sensible, a little cold perhaps, but -then the snow of her chastity would make her that. -Silvius was no coarse colourist, no noisy twanger of strings. -There should be mysticism, aloofness, a play of pearly -light about such a part. His exultation burnt delicate -flattery. For Silvius knew that many sacred souls -loved their sanctity as a gay quean loves her clothes. -How many Magdalenes were there who dreamt of being -seen while they washed the feet of God and the Saints! -And Silvius wished to lead this child of the Miraculous -Heart so that she should walk in a path of his own -conceiving, a sweet saint who should draw the -country, aye far countrysides, as the moon draws the -sea. The coming of Denise to the bounds of Battle -should be as the coming of the Bride to the Church of -God. It should be a pageant, and a poem. For in -those days pageantry preached to the people, and through -the eyes the heart was persuaded.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Denise heard him, like one very weary, one who -listens because there is no escape. And in good season -Silvius had the wit to see that he had pressed wine enough -for the day. Denise had given him her promise, and he -took his leave of her with sweetness, and all reverence, -putting himself beneath her, and speaking of her wishes -as commands.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Would their most blessed Sister take up her new -cell soon?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Denise leant her weight against the door, feeling that -if she were not rid of Silvius she would drop at his feet -and weep.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Before the moon is full,” she answered.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>And the monk mounted his horse, and rode away -like one who has received a pallium, dreaming miraculous -dreams, and beholding innumerable pilgrims, peasant -and prince, knight and lady, riding and journeying -towards Senlac over hill and dale.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>As for Denise she stood at the door of her cell long -after Silvius had left her, as though she lacked even -the power to move. What help was there, what other -means should she devise? This cell of stone had become -a den of evil dreams for her; the tenderness and mystery -had fled. She had no heart to live there any longer, -no heart to meet those who had knelt to her before this -thing had happened.</p> - -<div><h1 class='nobreak'>CHAPTER XIV</h1></div> - -<p class='pindent'>Since the fight at Goldspur Father Grimbald had lain -hidden in a saw-pit on one of the forest manors, the -swineherd who had hidden him being also woodman -and sawyer when his hogs were rooting amid the beech -mast and the acorns. Saw-dust with heather spread -over it made none so miserable a bed, and the swineherd -had fortified Grimbald against wind, rain, and the inquisitiveness -of enemies by covering the mouth of the -pit with faggots. For a month Grimbald had lain there, -his shirt and cassock clotted to great wounds that no -man dared to touch. At first a fever had taken him, -and he had roared and stormed at night like some sturdy -saint at grips with Apollyon in a corner of hell. The -swineherd had banked up the faggots to deaden the sound, -praying God to abate Father Grimbald’s fever, for a -dozen of Gaillard’s men were camped that very night -not two furlongs from the saw-pit. Yet Grimbald’s -shouts had come rumbling out of the earth, “Strike, -strike, St. George!” “Shine, brown bills, and beat the -Frenchmen into the sea!” And so strenuous and bellicose -had the fever grown in him, that the swineherd, -staking purgatory or peace on a pail of water, had lifted -the faggots and doused Grimbald to cool him. Nor had -any harm come of it, but rather good, for Grimbald -had grown less fiery, and fallen into a deep sleep.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>About the time that Dom Silvius made his second -pilgrimage to the beech wood above Goldspur, Grimbald -was so well recovered of his wounds that he could -sit up on his bed, and take his food with great relish. -Being also an industrious soul he made the swineherd -throw him down billets of seasoned oak, a knife, and -a hatchet, and set himself to carve heads of the saints -for decorating the corbels of his little church. But either -St. Paul and St. Simon were in an ill humour, or Grimbald -knew little of his craft, for the saints emerged pulling -most villainous faces, sour, evil, and grotesque, with -flat noses, and slits for eyes. So Grimbald gave up his -struggle with them, and heaved them up out of the pit -to be burnt, and took to pointing and feathering arrows, -for your woodlander was often his own fletcher.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The flesh prospering so well with him, and the end -of his sojourn in the saw-pit seeming near, Grimbald -sent the swineherd for some of the Goldspur folk. The -very same evening the swineherd brought in the two -men Oswald and Peter, both of them full to the brim -with gossip, and ready to empty themselves at their -spiritual father’s feet. Grimbald sat on his bed in the -pit, whittling a yew bough with his knife; Oswald -and Peter squatted side by side on a faggot like a couple -of solemn brown owls on a bough.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Father,” quoth Oswald, “we have seen the devil -in St. Denise’s wood.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Peter chimed in to add to the impression.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“A black devil with a black horse that breathed -fire and smoke.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“And he came and went like the wind, Father!”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Even such honest men as these had imaginations -wherewith to decorate an experience. Grimbald’s face -looked the colour of brown earth in the darkness of the -pit, and to Oswald and Peter his eyeballs seemed to glare -like two white pebbles at the bottom of a well.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“And you ran away from this devil?” he said. -“Yes, you ran, my sons, as fast as your legs could carry -you. When shall I come by a Christian who is not -afraid to stand on his own feet, and to astonish us by -making the devil run?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Though Grimbald scoffed at them, the two men knew -his methods. No one had anything to fear from Grimbald -so long as he looked him straight in the face and spoke -the simple truth. But a liar or a fawner were likely to -be thrashed, since Grimbald’s chastening of souls was -not wholly a matter of the tongue. He used his hands -like a Christian, and for the love of their flesh he did not -spare them.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Assuredly, Father, it was the devil we saw in the -beech wood. Night was just falling——”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“So! And he was very black was he? Just as -black as charcoal, and had two live coals for eyes?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The good man’s grim irony drove neither Oswald -nor Peter from his breastwork of conviction.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“We would take oath it was the devil, Father.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Oswald, Oswald, you seem too familiar with the -face of Satan! You are too fond of the mead-horn, my -man.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The accused one accepted the charge meekly, knowing -that it was true in the abstract, and that Father Grimbald -knew it, for there had been an occasion of second baptism -in a somewhat dirty ditch. But Oswald was stolidly -sure of his innocence on the night in question, nor had -he as yet finished his confessions.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I had no mead froth on my beard that day, Father,” -said he. “Whether it was the devil or no we saw, we -saw him with these eyes of ours. And he rode like a -black north wind. But what is worse, Father, we have -never had sight of our saint since then.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>This was news that struck the irony out of Grimbald’s -mouth. He laid the yew bough aside on the heather, -and became at once the demi-god, and the seer.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“What is that you are saying, man Oswald? Why -are you troubled for Denise?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Oswald looked like a wise dog that has come by -kicks undeservedly, and is now to be commended.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“The door of the cell is always shut,” he said, “and -never a word or a sound have we now from our lady. -What is more, Father, the stuff we took there two days -ago was still by the wicket when one of the lads went -up this morning.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Grimbald looked thoughtful.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Have you tried the door?” he asked.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“We durst not, thinking she might be in a vision -or in prayer.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Did you call to her?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Not above asking her blessing, Father, and telling -of the food, and news of you. And it was four days -ago that her voice answered us, but since then we have -heard no sound.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Grimbald stood up slowly on the bed, propping himself -with his arms against the walls of the pit.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“God helping me, I could sit a horse,” he said. “This -must be looked to. Oswald, my son, you had a fat pony. -Bring the beast here to-morrow, at dawn.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“It shall be done, Father.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>And they departed with his blessing, but Grimbald -was awake all that night, troubled lest any harm should -have befallen Denise.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Devil!” thought he. “Oswald’s devil was one -of good human kidney, or I have no sense of smell. -Satan need not heat himself with galloping in these -parts. We have enough of him in the flesh.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Meanwhile at Pevensey, Aymery of Goldspur had -thrown the preaching part of himself aside, for that -which Gaillard had thrust under his door had stung the -manhood in him, and left the poison of a great fear in -his blood. The hair was Denise’s hair; he could have -sworn to that on the relics of the Cross. How had they -come by it, here in Pevensey? Was Denise also a -caged bird, and if not, what had happened in that beech -wood, where the great trees built dark winding ways -with the sweep of their mighty branches? Aymery’s -thoughts plunged in amid those trees, grimly and passionately, -yet with the sheen of a woman’s hair luring him on -like the mystic light from the Holy Grael. Had evil -befallen her because of him? What devil’s mockery -might there be in the way the truth had been thrust -into his ken! Had Gaillard any hand in it? And at -the thought of Gaillard, Aymery twisted Denise’s hair -about his wrists, and yearned to feel those hands of his -leaping at the Gascon’s throat. God! What did it -avail him to pretend that he feared for Denise as he would -have feared for a sister? She was the ripe earth to him, -the dawn of dawns, the freshness of June woods after -rain. He could cover his eyes no longer as to what was -in his heart.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>To break out into the world, to gallop a horse, to -feel his muscles in their strength, that was the fever in -him, the restless fever of a chained hawk beating his -wings upon a perch. To be out of this hole in a stone -tower, but how? He had no weapons, not so much -as a piece of wood, or the rag of a linen sheet. They -had taken his leather belt, but left him his shirt, -tunic and shoes, and he laughed despite his grimness, -for they might as well have left him naked. The man -who brought him bread and water, filled a cracked flask -for him, and took the water-pot away. And what a -weapon that great earthen jar would have made, swung -with the verve and sinew of a young man’s arm.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Impatient with his own impotence, he stood at the -narrow window looking seawards, drawing Denise’s hair -to and fro between his fingers as he would have drawn -a swath of silk. A thought came to him, but at first -he revolted from it as from a piece of sacrilege. His -sturdy sense saved him, however, from being fooled by a -shred of sentiment, and he twisted the strands of hair -till he had wound them into a fine and silken cord. -Wrapping the ends about his wrists he looped the cord -over his bent knee, tried the strength thereof, and smiled -as though satisfied.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>That evening there was the sound of a scuffle when -the bread bringer drew back the bolts and pushed the -heavy door open with his foot. The fellow had made -light of his duty of late, for Aymery had seemed quiet -and tame, and still feeble after his wounds. He had -marched in perfunctorily while Aymery waited for him -behind the door. There was the crash of the pitcher -on the stones. The jailer’s knees gave under him; he -sank sideways driving the door to with his weight.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Aymery had no wish to end the poor devil’s life, so -he left him there to get back breath and consciousness, -after robbing him of his rough cloak and the knife he -carried at his girdle. Pushing the body aside, he swung -the door to cautiously, and shot the bolts. Almost -instinctively he had wound Denise’s hair about his wrist, -and as he descended the winding stair he tossed the -man’s cloak over his shoulders, turned up the hood, -and kept the knife hidden but ready for any hazard. -Going down boldly he came out into the inner court, -crossed it and reached the gate without being challenged -by any of the men who loitered there.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Aymery’s heels were itching for a gallop, but he held -himself in hand, and walked on coolly, whistling through -his teeth. He was under the gateway, through it, and -crossing the bridge. Someone called to him, but he -laughed, crowed like a cock, and gave a wave of the hand.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The outer court with its great garden still lay before -him, and he followed the paved track, praying God to -keep all officious fools at a distance. Fifty paces, twenty -paces, ten paces, and he was at the outer gate, with the -cypresses black behind him, and no betrayal as yet. -The gate still stood open, though it was closed at sunset, -and to Aymery it was an arch of gold, a dark tunnel way -with a tympanum cut from the evening sky.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>He was half through it, when a lounger at the guard-room -door lurched forward and caught him roughly by -the cloak. It may have been a mere challenge to horse-play -or the grip of a swift suspicion. Aymery did not -wait to decide the matter, but struck the man across the -face with the knife, broke loose, and ran.</p> - -<div><h1 class='nobreak'>CHAPTER XV</h1></div> - -<p class='pindent'>They brought the Red Saint to Battle when the meadows -were a sheet of gold, and the thorn trees white above -the lush green grass. Dom Silvius and two of the Abbey -servants came for her in the morning, bringing a white -palfrey to carry her on the way.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Denise had kept vigil all that night, praying, and -striving to quiet a heart that would not be quieted. -And when the dawn had come she had gone out into -the garden and stood there silently, looking at the familiar -things that had mingled with her life. Yet very strange -had garden, hermitage, and woodland seemed to Denise -that morning; the strangeness of leave-taking was over -them, and the sadness of farewell. Even the rose trees -that had been given her, and which she had cherished, -had seemed to catch her memory, with their thorns. -Memories, memories! Some infinitely dear; others, -brutal and full of shame. The thatch would rot, the -walls crumble, the garden beckon back the wilderness. -And a great bitterness had fallen upon her, because of -what she was losing, and of what she had suffered, and -yet might suffer. She had felt glad in measure when she -had heard the tinkling bells on Dom Silvius’s bridle as -he had come riding through the beech wood. Her love -of the place had hurt her. The very stones had cried -out, and the pansies had scowled at her as she went down -the path.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>At Battle there was joy that day, and a ringing of -bells, for Abbot Reginald had ordered it. And the song -of the bells went over the woodlands that gleamed or -grew gloomy as the clouds drifted. The cuckoo called; -green herbs rose to the knees; the meadows rippled with -gold; the oaks were in leaf. Over the blue hills, and -through slumbrous valleys filled with haze, Silvius and -Denise came to the Abbey lands.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Before her there, beside a wayside cross, Denise saw -many people gathered to welcome her, but her heart -wished them away. She would have come quietly to -this new refuge, nor had she foreshadowed Dom Silvius’s -pageantry. Here were gathered the Abbey singing boys -in white stoles, the precentor with them; also a number -of the Brethren, two and two, solemn figures with hoods -and hanging sleeves that seemed to catch the shadows. -All the townsfolk had streamed out from their boroughs, -old and young. Some carried green boughs, the girls -had their bosoms full of flowers, even toddling children -had their posies.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Denise’s blood became as water in her when she saw -all these people gathered there, ready with their gaping -awe, and their inquisitive reverence. The bright colours -of their clothes, the greens, blues, and russets became a -blur before eyes that felt hot with bitter tears. It -was all so much mockery to Denise. The precentor’s -arms waved; the singing boys moved off two and two -to lead her, singing some quaint chant. The people -were down on their knees beside the road, all save the -girls who strewed their flowers before her. And Denise -rode by on her white palfrey, her eyes blind, her cheeks -burning, a strangle of humiliation in her throat, knowing -what these people could not know, and shamed to the -heart because of it. She saw neither the silent faces -under the row of cowls, nor the green boughs that waved, -nor the hands that were stretched out to her by children -and by women. Nor did she see Dom Silvius’s subtle -and happy face as he rode beside her, carrying a wooden -cross upon his shoulder.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>So the white-stoled boys chanted, the bells rang -and the slow and sombre Brethren threaded their way -between the green boughs and the colours. The people -followed on, and began to buzz and to chatter. “The -Lady of Miracles has come to dwell with us,” they said. -Their mouths were full of all manner of marvels, and -each began to think of the advantage that might be -dreamed of.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“She shall keep the sheep rot from us,” quoth -one.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“And cure the bone ache and the rheumatics,” said -another.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>A fat, pork butcher with a face the colour of swine’s -flesh remembered that his dame was to take to her bed -in a month, and that he would have her blessed -by Denise. A charm against “the staggers” was the -desire of a carrier. Wuluric, a wax chandler, wondered -whether his trade would be increased. One old -woman was eaten up with a sore that would not heal. -“I shall beg me a little of her spittle,” said she, “a -holy virgin’s spittle on a dock leaf is a wondrous -cure.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>So they brought Denise to her cell near Mountjoye -Hill, and from that hour they began to call the little -field below it “Virgin’s Croft.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>All this had happened the day before Oswald and -Peter had told the Lord of the Saw-pit the tale of the -devil in the Goldspur beech wood. According to Grimbald’s -bidding they brought the pony to him at dawn, -helped him from his hiding-place, and set him upon the -beast which bore up bravely though Grimbald’s heels -nearly ploughed the ground. They started off through -the woods, thinking to make Goldspur within two hours, -but their reckonings were without the sanction of heaven, -for Grimbald’s pony stumbled over a red ant’s mound, -and threw the priest heavily, for he was weak after his -many days abed. And Grimbald lay on his back with -his arms spread out like the arms of a man crucified, -and Oswald and Peter stood and stared at him, and wondered -whether he was dead.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>They knelt down and chafed his feet and hands until -Grimbald came to his senses again, and cheered them -with the uttering of a few godly curses. The men lifted -him up, and for their clumsiness he cursed them further, -and bade them put him with his back against a tree. -Grimbald, being a heavy man, had broken his right -collar-bone in the fall, and he was still weak for such -rough byplay.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Give me a mouthful of water,” he said.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>But neither Oswald nor Peter had water with them, -nor was there a pool near, nor a running brook. Grimbald -looked at them with mighty disdain, and Oswald, -sneaking off, mounted his pony to get what he could. -Five miles rode Oswald that morning before he came -to Burghersh village, and begged a hornful of mead -there, and a bottle of water. He bumped back again -at a rollicking canter, till his pony’s coat was as wet as -if he had swum a stream. Grimbald had been sick as -a dog with the twist of the fall, but the mead heartened -him, and he bade Oswald splash the water on his face. -Then they bound his right arm to his body with their -girdles, and when he had rested awhile, he made them -put him again upon the pony.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Nor was this mounting an easy matter, though -approached in subtle and backward fashion over the -pony’s tail. Happily the beast had no kick in him, -being tired and subdued. So they had Grimbald -astride, and started off once more, the men walking -one on either side, and steadying him as they -went.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>What with the time wasted, and the slow travelling -that they made, evening was making the beech wood -brilliant as they climbed up out of the valley. The great -sentinel trees that stood forward from the main host -cast purple shadows upon the grass. A small herd of -red deer went trotting into the green-wood, and there -was a great silence save for the sucking patter of their -hoofs.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>One corner of Denise’s glade was still steeped in -sunlight when Grimbald and his men came from under -the beech trees. They could see that both the wicket -gate and the cell door stood open. Grimbald dismounted -at the wicket, and leaning on Oswald’s shoulder, went -up the path towards the cell. They were close to the -threshold when a brownish thing flew forth into -their faces, screamed, and sped away on noiseless -wings. It was only a great owl, but Oswald had -covered his face with his arm like one who fears a -blow.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Assuredly it was the devil, Father!” said -he, uncovering a pair of round and credulous -eyes.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Grimbald pushed on alone and entered the cell. -One glance showed him that it was empty. He saw -the rough bed with the coverlet spread awry, the -wooden settle, the hutch where Denise had kept her -clothes, the great water-jar in the corner. In the -cupboard he found nothing but a dry loaf, a drinking -horn, and the lamp that she had used. There -seemed no sign of violence, nor even of a hurried -flight.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Grimbald stood there awhile considering, and then -went out into the gathering dusk. It seemed probable -to him that Denise had not been in the cell for some days, -for was not the bread dry and the water-jar empty? He -walked about the garden, turning his beak of a nose -this way and that like an eagle, his weakness and his -broken bone forgotten in the unravelling of this coil. -The little lodge built of faggots where Denise had kept -her tools and wood, enlightened him no further, and -he was ruffling his brows over it when he heard Oswald -calling. The man had caught all Grimbald’s spirit of -unrest, just as a dog catches the moods of his master, -and searching the ground he had found hoof marks on -the grass.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Grimbald found him kneeling outside the wattle -fence, pointing at something that lay across a grass -tussock, something that glistened like a few shreds from -a woman’s hair. Oswald went on his hands and knees -with his face close to the turf. He beat to and fro awhile, -crawled forward across the glade, lay almost flat a moment, -and then started up with an eager cry. He had found -the fresh print of a horse’s hoofs in the grass under the -fringe of a tree whose boughs nearly touched the -ground.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Grimbald went to see what Oswald had to show -him. Dusk was falling fast, and they both stooped -low over the marks in the grass. But Oswald -started up on his haunches and sniffed the air like -a dog.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Hist!”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>His eyes dilated as he turned his head to and fro, -staring into the deepening gloom under the trees. Something -was moving out yonder. They heard one bough -strike another, a dead branch crack, the faint brushing -of feet through leaves and grass. Oswald laid a hand -on the knife at his belt; his teeth showed between -snarling lips.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>But Grimbald caught him by the shoulder, and they -turned back towards the cell where Peter loitered at -the wicket in the dusk, and the pony stood with tired -and drooping head. They were half across the glade -when a man came running after them, and they could -see that he was armed.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Grimbald swung round instantly, and stood with head -thrown back, shoulders squared. A sword flashed not -three paces from him before his lion’s roar made the -dusk quiver. The man’s sword dropped, and he came -to a dead pause.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Grimbald!”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>They caught each other as men do who love greatly, -and for a moment neither spoke. Then Aymery stood -back, and picked up his sword.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Denise? Is she here?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Grimbald’s forehead became seamed with lines. -His short silence betrayed perhaps more than he could -tell.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“We came to find her, brother,” he said.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“And she is gone?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“The cell is empty.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Aymery’s voice sounded harsh as the rasp of a saw. -He swung his sword up and let it rest upon his shoulder. -Even in the dusk Grimbald saw that glitter in the eyes, -that fierce closure of the lips, that spreading of the -nostrils.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“The cell has been empty some days, I judge. I was -troubled for the sake of Denise, for I had heard -a strange tale from Oswald here. We came, and found -nothing.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Aymery swung to and fro with swift, sharp -strides. Then his sword shot out and pointed Oswald -away.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Go. Out of earshot.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The man went. Aymery brought his sword back to -his shoulder, stretched out an arm, and showed Grimbald -something coiled about his wrist.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Look, a coil of her hair!”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Grimbald bent his head, and then straightened with -a deep-drawn breath.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“This——?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“They put it under my door at Pevensey, the dogs! -Yesterday I broke out and hid in the marshes. They -gave chase, and I killed one of those who followed, and -took his horse and arms. That was to-day. Then I -galloped here.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>He tossed his head, shaking back his hair, his eyes -hard as a frost. Then he pointed towards the hermitage -with his sword.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“What is there in yonder?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>He seemed to stiffen himself against the truth, challenging -Grimbald to tell him all.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“There is nothing, brother, but her bed, hutch and -cupboard and the like.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“No more than that?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Nothing.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Aymery bent forward slightly, and looked into -Grimbald’s face. For a moment they stared each -other in the eyes as though asking and answering -silent questions. Then Aymery seemed to understand.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“There has been some devil’s work here,” -he said, and Grimbald told him Oswald’s tale, and -showed where the hoof prints might be seen by -daylight.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“God knows the rest!” he said, smoothing his -beard.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>But Aymery was kneeling, and praying to the cross -of his sword.</p> - -<div><h1 class='nobreak'>CHAPTER XVI</h1></div> - -<p class='pindent'>Twilight had fallen, a twilight of blue mists and vague, -mysterious distances. A young moon was in the sky, and -in a thicket near Denise’s cell nightingales were singing. -She was to offer herself at the high altar that night, -to strip her body before God, St. Martin, and Our Lady, -for Dom Silvius had so persuaded her, arguing that her -chaste holiness would be the more miraculous when -offered publicly to God. Denise had had no heart to -determine for herself, and to withstand Dom Silvius’s -arguments. Her womanhood stood mute and humbled, -feeling that some subtle virtue had fled out of her, and -left her without purpose. She had lost faith in her own -genius; in the magic crystal of her heart she could -no longer see visions. And like one very weary she -was leaving her destiny in the hands of others, letting -them think for her, and guide her as they pleased.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>When the twilight had fallen Denise went out into -the little grass close before the cell, a close that was shut -in by a high thorn hedge. She carried with her a jar -of water that Abbot Reginald had blessed, a napkin, -a vial of perfumed oil, and a pure white shift and tunic, -given by the devout. No one could see her there, and -Denise stripped off her old clothes, washed her body -from head to foot, dried it, and anointed it with oil.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Now the warmth of her bosom made the perfume -of the oil rise up into her nostrils, and the perfume seemed -to steal straight into Denise’s heart. The night was -very still, save for the song of the nightingales. Dew -had fallen on the grass, yet a sweet warmth rose out of -the earth, a warmth that is rare in the month of May. -There was the moon yonder, and far hills faint under a -mysterious sky. And Denise who a moment ago had -felt miserable and weary of soul, in one breath was blushing -as red as a rose, her whole body quivering in the moonlight, -her eyes full of some inward fire.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>A call from the unknown had come to her, and her -heart had answered it, and for the moment she stood -transfigured. The night seemed magical, a-whisper with -mystery. She felt that she must steal away into the -sweet green gloom of the woods, taking all hazards, -dreaming a great love. She stretched her arms above -her head, so their white and anointed sheen caught -the faint light of the moon. Then as a white flame leaps -and falls again into the darkness, so Denise’s arms fell -suddenly across her bosom. The warmth and the -perfume had gone again, and she felt cold in body and -in heart.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>What could it avail her that she was a woman and -could dream dreams? The torch was quenched, the -wine spilt from the jar. There was no other path than -this even though it was strewn with thorns. She must -follow it to the end, forgetting that other life, and yet -remembering it, hating the world, yet thinking of one -heart that might have stood for the whole world. If -she escaped bitterness and shame, surely she should -be grateful, and contented with such mercies. There -was no other life for her but this one of self-renunciation.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Slowly, and very sadly she put on the white shift -and tunic, emblems of what the world believed in. She -bound up her hair and the touch of it brought back the -memory of that night, a memory that stung like an asp -at the breast. When she had dressed herself, she knelt -on the threshold to pray until the midnight offering. -But her misery fled forth into other ways, and she thought -of man before she thought of God.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Hours had passed, and there was a sense of stir somewhere -over yonder where the abbey lay. A bell began -to toll, slowly and sonorously, the first clang of its clapper -sounding a note of dismal sanctity. Torches were being -lit, for a faint glare began to rise above the orchards -and the thickets, and Denise, kneeling on the bare stones, -knew that the hour of her renunciation was near.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The sound of their coming was still a sound in the -distance when Denise heard the trampling of a horse -along the road that ran not very far from her cell. It -ceased suddenly, and a murmur of voices came up to her -in the darkness. Then all was still again save for the -tolling of the bell, and the solemn chanting which told her -that Dom Silvius and the Brethren who had charge of her -were coming with torches over the hill.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Now Denise had risen and gone out into the green -close when the trampling of hoofs came along the thorn -hedge with the creaking of harness, and the snorting of a -horse. Denise stood still, holding her breath as she -listened. The moon had gone, and the only light was -the glare of the torches that were topping the hill.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Denise heard a voice calling.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Denise,” it said; “Sancta Denise.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The trampling of hoofs had ceased, and there was -silence save for the chanting of the monks upon the hill -top. Something moved beyond the hedge, and Denise -heard the latch of the gate lifted. The heart stood still -in her a moment. Someone was near her in the close, -for she heard the sound of breathing, and the rustling -of feet in the grass.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>A man’s whisper came to her out of the dark.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Denise!”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>In a moment, she knew not how, the warm silence -of the night grew full of love and life. He was close to -her with a white, passionate face looking into hers, questioning -her very soul. Perhaps their hands touched. -It was like the tumult and yearning of waters in a dark -and narrow place.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Denise was trembling from head to foot. Aymery -had touched her hand, no more than that, yet nothing -but a thin film of darkness seemed to hold the two apart. -Denise heard the outpouring of his words, a man’s words, -poignant and tender, striking her very heart. What could -she say to him, with this renunciation of hers so near.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Denise, why have you left us?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>She covered her face with her arms.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Lord, lord, was it not you who told me to seek a -surer refuge?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>His hands were straining back, and straining forward, -as though to touch her, and not to touch.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Yes, but that was a while ago. Things happen in -this world, when a man is tied to his bed. If all has been -well with you——”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>She let her arms fall from before her face, and there, -above them, the dark hillside was seamed with a stream -of light. And in the flare of the torches she could see -many shadowy figures moving, and the outline of a great -cross carried in the van.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Aymery had seemed blind to all save the white figure -before him. But the torch flare struck across his face, -and he seemed suddenly to understand.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Then Denise spoke, as though compelling herself.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“They are coming for me,” she said. “To-night, -I offer myself at the high altar. They must not find -you here.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>He did not answer her for the moment, but stood -looking at the torches, almost stupidly, like a man -stunned. Then he bowed his head before her, spoke her -name, and went out into the night.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Aymery remembered all that followed as a man -remembers few things in the course of his life. He hid -his horse in a thicket, and followed on foot when the cross -and the torches turned back towards the abbey. The -abbey town seemed full of strange curious faces, of -shadowy figures that jostled him, of the light of torches, -of folk whispering together. There were many people -moving under the gate, and on towards the abbey church. -Aymery moved with them, silently, dully, like one carried -along in the midst of a stream. They flowed in at the -doors, these people, and on between pillars that towered -up into darkness, and along aisles that were shadowy -and dim. The high altar alone was lit with many waxen -candles. The Brethren were in their stalls, the sound of -chanting came from somewhere out of the dusk.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Then began in that great church the last episode of -Dom Silvius’s pageant. Aymery, leaning against a pillar -in the darkness, saw Denise kneeling before the altar, -Reginald of Brecon near her, and two of the most aged -of the monks. A bell rang; a strong and strident voice -spoke some prayer; then the chanting soared and rolled -into the far vaultings of the roof. Heads were bowed -everywhere; the monks in the choir had their faces -hidden. But Aymery’s eyes were turned towards the -altar where the candles flickered and the smoke of incense -seemed to curl and ascend.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>He saw Denise rise, drop her white tunic and shift, -and kneel naked upon the altar steps. An old monk -bent over her, and clipped away her hair so that it fell -like light about her body. She bent before the altar -with outstretched arms, and holy water was sprinkled -upon her body and her clothes. A voice sounded. She -rose slowly and re-arrayed herself. One long murmur -seemed to pass like a wind through the darkened church.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The year of a novitiate had begun, a season of -probation that should pass before more solemn and -final vows should be put upon her. Silvius, shrewd -man, had advised Denise guardedly for the sake of the -honour of his “house.” There should be a ceremony, -a kneeling before the altar. That would please the -people, and bring her more solemnly before their eyes. -Then let Denise prove herself as a child of miracles, -and they could talk of the greater and more lasting -vows.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Then the aisles seemed alive with swirling water. -The people were moving forth with lowered heads, while -Denise knelt again before the high altar with its candles. -Aymery went with the people, looking back but once -when he had reached the western door. The night -struck warm after the cold air of the great church. He -found himself in the abbey town, walking aimlessly in -the midst of many moving, whispering figures.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Then a great hunger to be alone seized him. He -almost ran through the straggling town, up past Mountjoye -to where he had hidden his horse. And when the -first grey of the dawn came he was galloping northwards -along the forest roads as though trying to distance the -memories of the past night.</p> - -<div><h1 class='nobreak'>CHAPTER XVII</h1></div> - -<p class='pindent'>At Pevensey that June-tide Peter of Savoy discovered -something that concerned him, thanks to Gaillard’s -foolhardiness, and the Gascon’s boastful, passionate -nature. There were bitter words between the Lady of -the Lute, and Peter of Savoy, though much of the bitterness -was in Etoile’s mouth, for the Count could be cold -as a frost, when cheated.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Madame,” said he, looking her coolly in the face, -“it is every man’s privilege to see that he is not fooled. -Let us be merciful to one another. You will find a horse -at the gate.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Now Etoile might have persuaded most men with -her beauty, but in my Lord Peter’s eyes there was a -look that told her that he would use steel if she -made a mocking of his pride. She smothered her -words, and dissembled her wrath before him, for he -was too cold and clever a man to be treated as -she would have treated Gaillard. “Go,” his eyes -said to her, “and be thankful in the going.” And -Etoile hid her rage, and went, half wondering the -while whether some man had orders to stab her in -the back.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Then Peter of Savoy sent for Messire Gaillard, but -the Gascon had become suddenly discreet, and betaken -himself early to the stable.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>His master snapped his fingers.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Let the fool go,” he said. “Madame will need -company on the road to the devil.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>One of his gentlemen, a very young man, showed -some concern for the Lady of the Peacocks.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Will you turn her out next to naked, sire?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Peter of Savoy laughed in his face.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Are you a fool, also, Raymond? Go with her if -it pleases you, you will have to fight the Gascon. God -knows, I would prevent no man drinking green wine.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>So they turned Etoile out of Pevensey, suffering her -to take nothing with her but the horse, the clothes she -rode in, a little money, and such jewels as were hers.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Peter of Savoy had not judged the case amiss, for if -Raymond of the Easy Heart had followed Dame Etoile -some miles that morning, he would have found Gaillard -waiting for her under the shade of a beech wood near -the road. But at first Etoile would not look at the man, -for her anger was still hot in her because of all that had -passed. She reviled Gaillard without mercy, letting -the whip of her tongue flay him as he rode along beside -her horse, half loving her and half hating her for her -taunts and for her fury.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Whether Gaillard spoke up well for himself, or whether -Etoile began to consider her necessity, it came about -that she gave up mocking him, and let him ride more -peaceably beside her. Probably it was not what Gaillard -said, but what Etoile thought that brought them to -softer speaking. The woman looked at once to the -future, and the future to her was a forecasting of the -importunities of self. Here was she, worse off in pride -than any beggar woman, she whom Peter of Savoy had -brought with pomp and homage out of the South. -Gaillard had brought all this upon her, and Gaillard -seemed her necessity since she was set adrift in a strange -land. Perhaps she loved him a very little, with the -treacherous, transient love of a leopardess. For the -present he must serve her. The husk of to-day might -be the gold shoe of the morrow.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Matters were so well mended between them that they -halted to rest under the shade of a tree. And there -Gaillard knelt in his foolish, passionate way, and swore -many oaths on the cross of his sword. Etoile curled -her lip at him, and bade him save his breath. She was -in no mood for such philanderings, and had other thoughts -in her head.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Come, Messire Gaillard,” said she, “you and I must -understand each other if we are to travel the road together. -Those who are turned out of doors must learn -to face rough weather.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Gaillard showed his temper by pulling out a purse, -and pouring the gold in it at her feet.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Such stuff is to be won. I will fight to win pay -for you, my desire, as never man fought before.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Etoile touched the money contemptuously with her -foot.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Put it back again, you may need it.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Gaillard shrugged, and humoured her. He spun one -of the coins, caught it, and balanced it on his thumb.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“A woman is made a wife for less,” he said.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“And kept, for less. Listen, fool, we are not a girl -and a boy.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>She spoke to Gaillard a long while, looking in his eyes -as she spoke. At first Gaillard carried his head sulkily, -but little pleased with what she said. Presently his -eyes began to glitter, he protruded his chin, and once -more his shoulders seemed ready to swagger. Before -Etoile had ended she had made him her man, ready to -skip to the tune she piped.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Splendour of God!” and he began to laugh. -“That is a game after my own heart. In a year the -King shall give us the best of his castles. What Fulk -de Brauté did, I can do even better.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>He sprang up, happy, vain, and audacious, not thinking -to read into the deeps of Etoile’s eyes.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“You are a great man, my Gaillard,” she said. “You -and I shall make our fortunes without waiting for Peter’s -pence.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Hardly three leagues away from these two worldlings -the Church took cognizance of holier things, and sought -to boast of a miracle at the hands of Denise. More than -a month had passed since the Lady of Healing, as the -folk called her, had knelt at midnight before the altar, -and offered her body to the glory of God. Dom Silvius, -dreaming his dreams, and chaffering over his ambitions, -thought the time ripe for Denise to prove her sanctity. -For a month she had been left in solitude to commune -with the saints, save that an Abbey servant had daily -brought her food and drink. The thoughts of all the -people turned to the thorn hedge and the brown thatched -cell that stood on the northern slope of Mountjoye Hill; -and human nature being self-seeking, especially in its -prayers, each soul had some hope of profiting by the -miraculous hands of Denise.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>While Etoile and Gaillard rode together in the course -of adventure, Dom Silvius came to Virgin’s Croft, and a -servant with him bearing a young child in his arms. -Several women followed devoutly at the almoner’s heels, -keeping their distance because of Dom Silvius’s carefulness -towards the sex. The child was said to be possessed by -a devil, and when a fit took him he would fall down -foaming, struggle awhile, and then lie like one dead. -The devil had brought him to such a pass, that he seemed -frailer and feebler after each seizure. The boy was the -only son of his mother, the brawny wife of a still more -brawny smith, and they had great hopes for the child -now that Denise had come.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Silvius had the child laid before her door.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“A devil teareth him, Sister,” said he. “Your -purity shall drive the devil out.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>And they left the child with her, and went their -way.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Now Denise was very miserable that day because of -something in herself that she had begun to fear, and she -needed her own heart healing before she might dream of -healing others. The world remained with her, though -she was shut up as a saint, and the solitude and the -loneliness had preyed the more upon her mind. At Goldspur -the wild woodland life and the life of the people -had been hers. Here she had only her own haunting -thoughts, and a voice that whispered that the virtue -had gone out of her, and that she no longer had the -power to help and to heal.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>It was with a kind of anguish that she watched over -the child, taking him to her bed, and praying that the -devil of epilepsy might go forth. All that day she watched -and prayed, the boy lying in a stupor with wide eyes -and open mouth. So the night came, and Denise lit -her taper, and knelt down again beside the child. All -that night she pleaded and strove with God, beseeching -Him to show His grace to her for her own sake and the -child’s.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Just before dawn the boy was taken with a strong -seizure, crying out at first, and then lying stiff and straight -and silent as a stone image. Denise took him into her -lap, put her mouth to his mouth, and held him against -her bosom. As the dawn came, so the truth dawned -also that the boy was dead, dead in her lap despite her -prayers. And a great horror came upon her, as though -God had deserted her, nor had the saints listened to her -prayers. A new shame chilled her heart. The virtue -had gone out of her, she felt alone with her own thoughts, -and the dead.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>When Dom Silvius and the women came some two -hours after dawn they found Denise seated upon the -bed with the dead child in her lap. A kind of stupor -seemed upon her. She did not so much as move, but -sat there with vacant face.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“He is dead. Take him.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>That was all she said to Dom Silvius. The almoner -took the boy, not able to hide the mortification on his -face as he carried the dead child to his mother. Denise -heard the woman’s cry, though the cry seemed far away -like a voice in a dream. Dom Silvius sought to comfort -her, but comfort her he could not, because she had hoped -so much from Denise’s prayers. And as is the way so -often with the human heart, the woman went home in -bitterness and anger, holding the dead child to her breast, -and murmuring against Denise.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>If Denise felt herself deserted of God, there was one -Sussex man who did not lack for inspiration, and -whose heart was possessed by both God and the devil. -Aymery of Goldspur had ridden from the Thames to the -Severn, to join Earl Simon’s army that was on the march -from the Welsh borders. The great Earl was like a rock -in a troubled sea, or a beacon that drew all those who -loved their land, and who strove for better things. The -King might call him a “turbulent schemer”; sneers -never killed a man like De Montfort. For the heart of -England was full of turbulence, and it seemed that -England’s heart beat in Earl Simon’s breast.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Aymery, wild as a hawk, borne along by the storm-wind -of his restless manhood, grieving, exulting, torn by -a great tenderness that could have no hope, came within -the ken of the People’s Earl. For it was Aymery’s -need that month to throw himself at the gallop into -some cause, to live in the midst of tumult, to let his face -burn wherever the banners blew. Perhaps fortune set -her seal on him because he was ready to hazard his life -with the fierce carelessness of a man who had no traffic -with the future. Be that as it may, Simon’s host marched -down from the West, taking Hereford and Gloucester -on its way, and Aymery had caught the great Earl’s -eye before they came to Reading Town.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Moreover, on the march from Reading to Guildford, -over the heathlands and wild wastes, there were skirmishes -with the King’s men who had pushed out from Windsor. -Sharp tussles these, horsemen galloping each other down, -spear breaking on the hillsides, men slain on the purple -heather. Here the fiercer, bolder spirits were to be found, -the young eagles who would redden their talons. In one -such skirmish Aymery charged in, and rescued young -John de Montfort who had been taken prisoner through -too much zeal and daring. At Reigate again there was -more fighting, though the place soon fell, yet Fortune -pushed Aymery into a lucky chance. Certain of the -King’s men, hired ruffians most of them, had barricaded -themselves in a church, nor would they budge, though an -assault was given under the eyes of the Earl himself. -Fortune helped Aymery as she so often helps the man -who is careless as to his own end. He found the window -of a side chapel unguarded, broke in, and held his ground -desperately till others followed, and the place was won.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Earl Simon himself came into the church, and knelt -there before the altar, close to where two of the King’s -men lay dead in their blood. When he had finished his -prayer, he stood on the altar steps and called for the -man who had leaped down first into the church. And -they put Aymery forward, finding him standing behind -a pillar, and so gave him the glory.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Simon made ready to knight him there in the church, -but Aymery begged seven days to chasten himself, keep -vigils, and be blessed with his sword and shield. Simon -looked at him steadily, for he was a man after his own -heart, grim, resourceful, dangerously quiet, and no -boaster. He granted Aymery the seven days, telling -him to come to Tonbridge whither the host went towards -the siege of Dover.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“God first, man afterwards,” he said. “You have -chosen as I would have you choose.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>So Aymery slept that night at Guildford before the -altar of the church. When the dawn came he mounted -his horse, and rode southwards, alone.</p> - -<div><h1 class='nobreak'>CHAPTER XVIII</h1></div> - -<p class='pindent'>A man’s chivalry must have a queen to crown it with -the crown of a high purpose, and Aymery had no will -to forget Denise, nor the mystical beauty of her womanhood. -The thought of her drew him as the Holy City -drew those who had taken the cross. Since he was to -be made a knight, she should bless his arms for him, and -serve as a Lady who looked at him out of Heaven. Thus -Aymery went riding southwards in the July heat, saying -his prayers devoutly at dawn and at sunset, bathing his -body when he found clear water; and filling his soul -with the thought of Denise. He had broken himself -to the belief that she was lost to the world, though he -was still troubled as to the happenings that had driven -her from Goldspur. Denise’s silence seemed sacred to -him, and her unapproachableness made his love the -greater. Now, like a man who has found a good -excuse, he returned again to win a glimpse of her -face.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Late on the afternoon of the first day Aymery turned -aside from the road under the shade of an oak tree to -rest his horse. Below him stretched a deep valley with -the road running through it like a white thread; the place -seemed very desolate, while on the farther side of the -valley the woods came down close to the road. The day -was full of a shimmer of gold, and no mowers had come -to mow the summer grass.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>As Aymery sat there under the shade of the tree, he -saw a man in a blue surcoat riding a grey horse along the -road below. Aymery had hardly set eyes on him when -he saw the man halt, and remain motionless under the -July sun that glittered on him and showed that he was -armed. A woman had come out from the woods close -to the road, a woman with black hair and a scarlet tunic -that shone up against the green. What was passing -between them Aymery could not tell, but he saw the -woman disappear into the woods and the man on the grey -horse follow her.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Some time had passed, and Aymery’s thoughts had -flown elsewhere, when a cry rose out of the summer -silence, held a moment, and then died down. Presently -he saw a grey horse and a rider in blue reappear out -of the woods with another horse and rider beside him. -The second man wore green, and carried a plain, black -shield.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Aymery saw them ride away westwards into the -golden light that covered the woods and the valley. -The way they rode seemed strange to him, for the horses -went shoulder to shoulder, and one arm of the man in -green lay about the body of the rider in blue. He was -puzzled moreover by the thought of the woman in -the red tunic, and the cry that he had heard, and -it crossed his mind that there had been foul play -yonder.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>When he had mounted and come down to the place -where the blue knight had turned aside, Aymery turned -aside also into the woods. A little way in, under the -trees where a bank rose covered with bracken, he found -a track that had been trampled leading to a place where -someone seemed to have lain. But he saw nothing else -beyond the tree boles, the cool green foliage, and the -bracken splashed here and there with sunlight. -When he called, no voice answered him, so he rode -out of the wood and went his way. Yet there was -more in the wood than he had seen, nor did he -guess that he would meet again with the rider on the -grey horse.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>On the evening of the second day Aymery came to -the hills by Montifeld, and saw the Senlac uplands -smitten by the evening light. Beyond Watlingtun he -found a man mowing grass beside the road, and stopped -to question him concerning Denise. The man pointed -towards Mountjoye Hill, for they could see from where -they stood the thatched roof of the cell above the thorn -hedge.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“The Virgin’s cell is yonder, lording,” he said, -thinking perhaps that Aymery rode thither to be cured -of some wound, and that he would be disappointed, for -the Lady of Healing had worked no cures since they had -brought her to the Abbey lands.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Denise was at her prayers, kneeling on the threshold -with the door of the cell wide open, when she heard the -trampling of Aymery’s horse, a sound from the outer -world that made her heart stand still and listen. There -was a minute’s silence before she heard the latch of the -gate lifted, and someone moving through the unmown -grass.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Aymery! Lord!”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>He saw the wave of colour go over her face, for he -had come upon her suddenly as she knelt there upon the -threshold. The rush of blood from the heart died down -again. She looked at him, and prayed that he should -not see that she was trembling.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Denise rose up from her knees as though the sound -of her own voice had broken some spell. A kind of dumb -discomfiture possessed them both. Aymery, with the -sunlight shining on his battle harness, felt challenged -by his own silence. The words he had meant to utter -stuck in his throat, for that wave of redness over the -woman’s face had somehow made him feel ungenerous -and a coward. What right had he to come galloping -into her life again, when they had put a day of dreams -behind them?</p> - -<p class='pindent'>And like a man who would be honest, he stumbled -to the blunt perfunctoriness of a boy going down on his -knees in a church. There was something to be gone -through with, and the sooner the better, since he had -begun so clumsily. Many women would have misunderstood -the mood in him. Denise understood it, perhaps -more clearly than Aymery himself.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Yes?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Her eyes questioned him, more than her voice. -Aymery put his shield before him as he knelt.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I have been with Earl Simon,” he said, looking at -his shield. “It is to be the sword on the shoulder, and -a pair of spurs.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>He spoke, with a slight shrug of the shoulders, a man -ill at ease under his own eyes, even though self-consciousness -was not part of his normal nature. Denise’s -heart had dropped to a steadier rhythm. The quicker -wit of the woman has always the advantage of the -man.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Earl Simon gave me some days, to keep vigils, -wash, and be cleansed. I would have my arms blessed -also, they will serve in a good cause.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>He drew out his sword, set it point downwards in -the grass, and looked at it, and not at Denise.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>She had her two hands over her bosom, and -seemed to draw several breaths before she could -speak.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“There is the Abbot Reginald.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Should I ride forty miles to be blessed by Reginald -of Brecon? Here are my sword and shield. Bless them, -or they shall go unblessed.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>She looked at him, recoiling upon the consciousness -of all that had happened to her since the days at Goldspur.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“You can bless them, Denise. Who better?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The fog in the air between them thinned and vanished. -But neither Aymery nor Denise noticed its passing. -Life, and the infinite earnestness thereof had both their -hearts in thrall.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Is it so great a thing to ask, Denise?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>He was looking at her steadily now, the self-consciousness -had slipped from him.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Lord, if my blessing were but worthy.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Need you ask that!”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“It is I who ask it of my own heart,” she answered.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>He flung out his arms suddenly, and his face blazed -up at her.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“For England, for the land, not for me alone, Denise. -Mother of God—I will have no other. Am I not wise as -to my own desire?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>His ardour caught her spirit and sent it soaring above -the earth as a wind blows a half-dead beacon into flame. -The miserable self-fear, the consciousness of coming -shame fell away from her like a ragged garment. She -was the Denise of the woods again, with miraculous eyes -and hands.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Give them to me.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>She stretched out her arms, took his shield, held it -to her bosom, and spoke words over it that Aymery -could not hear. Yet how much love and how much -supplication there were in those words of hers, the -heart of a woman alone could tell. She took his -sword also, kissed the cross thereof, and held it on -high.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Break not, fail not. Keep troth, rust never.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>She gave him the sword again, and Aymery kissed -it, and knelt awhile with bowed head, as though in prayer. -Then he rose up out of the grass, holding the cross of the -sword before his eyes.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I would keep my vigil here,” he said. “Yonder -where there is a thicket of young oaks. Before dawn, -I shall be gone.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Denise’s face was still transfigured. The realisation -of her earthliness had not returned as yet.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“God guard you in the wars,” she said to him.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Aymery lifted his head, and for a moment they -looked into each other’s eyes. Then he turned from -her as though his own heart bade him go. And it seemed -to each that they had snatched a moment of joy from -that half-closed hand of life that holds more pain than -gladness.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>There were some children standing staring at his -horse when Aymery came out from the wicket in the -hedge of thorns. He paid no heed to them however, and -taking his horse by the bridle, led him to the oak thicket -on the hillside below Virgin’s Croft. The children ran -away into the town, and told their mothers that they -had seen a knight come out of St. Denise’s gate with a -naked sword over his shoulder. The children’s tale-bearing -caused some tattle in the Abbey town, and the -Abbey servants heard it.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Thus these two, soldier and saint, passed the night -within call of one another; Aymery kneeling bareheaded -under the stars, with sword and shield before -him; Denise pitiably wakeful in her cell, conscious of -the darkness, and of that shadow of darkness that grew -each day more heavy about her heart. She prayed for -Aymery that night, prayed for herself, and against the -future that she dreaded. They were so near to each -other, and yet so utterly apart. It seemed to Denise -that night that she had fled to this place of refuge, only -to meet the greater bitterness and shame.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>At last the dawn came, and with it the sound of a horse -moving over the grass. She heard Aymery come riding -up to the hedge of thorns. She saw his sword flash out -against the dawn as he stood in the stirrups and called -her name.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Denise, Denise!”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“God keep you,” she answered him in her heart.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>He went away into the world at a gallop, as though -it was easier to leave her thus in the gold and green of a -summer morning.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Aymery had been gone but half an hour when a monk -and two lay brethren came hurrying over Mountjoye -Hill. Their figures looked dark, intent, outlined against -the virginal clearness of the dawn. The monk was Dom -Silvius, and his eyes were sharp and watchful.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>He came alone to Denise’s cell, leaving the two lay -brothers at the gate in the hedge. Denise was washing -her neck and bosom; she had closed the door, and -suffered Silvius to speak to her from without. She soon -learnt that he had heard of Aymery’s coming, and that he -desired to discover the reason thereof.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“It was one who rode here, Father, to have his arms -blessed. He is on the eve of knighthood, and kept his -vigil in the wood, yonder.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Silvius’s face was very astute, he stroked his chin -and considered. There was nothing of the dreamer about -him that morning.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“And the offering, Sister, the offering?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Denise did not choose to understand.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“What offering, Father?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“That which the man left, for the blessing.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“He left no offering with me,” she said.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“No gift, Sister, nothing out of gratitude for the -blessing?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“No.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Not even a ring or a piece of money?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Nothing.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Silvius’s face condemned such vagrant meanness. He -hid his vexation, and spoke softly, remembering that he -was dealing with a certain sensitive thing called -woman.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Sister,” said he. “Perhaps the man was poor. We -grudge nothing to those who are blessed with poverty. -But an offering should always be made, even though it -be but the half of an apple. God loves not niggardliness, -my sister, and I would not have our good Lord, St. -Martin, offended.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Denise could not see Silvius because of the closed door, -but there was something in his voice that made her see -him as a sharp-faced, shrewd, insinuating figure hiding -covetousness under the cloak of humility.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I asked for nothing, Father,” she said.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Silvius’s face was very cunning.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“True, my Sister, we do not barter with our own -souls. But there are the poor to be remembered, the -fabric of the church, the glory of St. Martin. There is -no shame in holding out the hand for these.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Denise’s hands were fastening her tunic. And in -the darkness of the cell she seemed to understand suddenly, -as one comes by the understanding of the deeper things -of life in the midst of some great sorrow, the reason of -their eagerness to win her to the Abbey. The realisation -of it was like the discovery of simony and self-seeking in -the character of one beloved. She stood motionless, -staring at the door beyond which Silvius listened. And -the day seemed bitter and sordid to her after the night -of Aymery’s vigil.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Such things as I receive,” she said, “shall be -laid before the altar,” and from that moment she felt -that she hated Silvius because she had seen the motives -that moved his soul.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“That is well, Sister,” he answered her. “St. Martin -is generous to all who give.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The almoner went away grumbling to himself, disgusted -as any Jew that a man who had benefited should -have left nothing in return.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“The woman needs more shrewdness,” he thought. -“Nor have we had any marvel from her yet to open the -people’s hearts, and purses. God grant that we have not -made an indifferent bargain. We are losing rental, and -giving food and gear,” and he returned in a temper, -and thought mercenary thoughts all through Matins -in the Abbey Church. For to Silvius his “house” -was a great treasure-chest to be guarded, and enriched.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Denise was glad when Silvius had gone, and though -she strove to put the sneering suspicions from her, they -remained like dead trees, white and ugly in the green of a -living wood. To count the money in the alms-box, to -clutch at the offering, with the prayer hardly gone from -the mouth! It was not in her soul to suffer such a -traffic.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The day seemed very grey to her, though the sun was -shining, because of that other thing that haunted her -more than the thought of Dom Silvius’s keenness. She -felt more and more that the virtue had gone out of her, -and that the Lord of the Abbey would have no miracles -to bring him treasure. If this thing were to mature, -what then would follow? She shut the eyes of her soul -to it, and tried to think of that night in May as but the -memory of an evil dream.</p> - -<div><h1 class='nobreak'>CHAPTER XIX</h1></div> - -<p class='pindent'>From the gold of the wheat harvest to the picking of -red apples no great time passes, yet in those few weeks -the people began to scoff openly at the healing powers -of Denise. She had been brought in with such quaint -pomp and ceremony, with such singing, and such a show -of blossom on the boughs, that folk had looked for a -wonderful fruiting, and for an especial blessedness that -should show itself in each man’s house.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Denise, poor wench, had come into the wilds of life, -to find primitive things dragging her beautiful altruism -into ruins. She had lost her wings and could no longer -soar, because of the earthliness that grew more apparent -to her day by day. Everything that she attempted -failed with her, and faith in her own power dwindled -out of her heart. Long ago she had noticed the prophetic -change in Dom Silvius’s attitude. He was suspicious, -grieved, hesitatory, always hoping for some lucky miracle, -some splendid coincidence that might fire the beacon of -his imaginings. He had boasted a little of this Virgin -Saint out of the woods, and the eyes of some of the -Brethren were beginning to twinkle.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>One sunny day early in October Dom Silvius went -down to the stews to fish. There happened to be some -of the younger monks there, and Guimar the hosteler, -a long, lean quiz of a man whom Silvius hated.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Brother,” said he to the almoner. “Have you -come to fish?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Dom Silvius answered the question by settling his -stool with great deliberation at the edge of the pond. -Guimar glanced at the rest.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“My Brothers,” he said. “See, here is Silvius come -a-fishing. Let us kneel and pray for him, and perchance -his saint may catch a miracle!”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>They all laughed at the joke, all save Silvius, who bit -his lips. And from that moment his pride began to -work like a slow poison in him, filling him with a hatred -of Denise.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Once only, and that in August, Father Grimbald -had come stalking up the hill to Virgin’s Croft, when the -people were busy with the harvest, and there were none -to see his coming. What he said to Denise, and she -to him, no man knew, for Grimbald held his peace concerning -it. But Denise wept when he had gone, bitter, -impassioned tears that welled up out of her heart. Grimbald’s -brow was heavy with a thunder cloud of thought -as he trudged home to Goldspur over the hills. He -opened and closed his great fists as he went, as though -yearning to smite something, or to take an enemy by -the throat. He had been unable to learn much from -Denise, save that she seemed unhappy, and that she had -left Goldspur because of the violence of the times. Grimbald -had his own suspicions, but speak them he could not, -though he was troubled within himself for Denise’s -sake. He knew that it had not been a matter of vainglory -with her, a desire to be flattered by the worship of a -wider world. Oswald’s tale of the Devil on the Black -Horse loomed largely in the background of Grimbald’s -mind. Denise had hidden something from him. Of -that Grimbald felt assured.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The burgher folk of Battle and the people on the -Abbey lands began to have their grievances against -Denise, grumbling with superstitious pettiness because -their hopes had profited so little. There was a multitude -of small things remembered against her, for of what use -was a holy woman if her sanctity brought no blessings. -Grubs had attacked the apples; why had not Denise -prevented that? The sheep had been worried with -the “fly”; again Denise had been besought to pray -against the pest. Many of the wells had run dry with -the hot summer; what was the use of a saint who could -not bring back water?</p> - -<p class='pindent'>There were many more things quoted against her.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Mulgar the carrier had brought a horse cursed with -“wind sucking” and the staggers. A holy woman should -be able to conjure such trifles, and Mulgar had brought -three pennies as an offering. The horse had died on -the road next day.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Gilbert the miller was plagued with rats. And the -rats prospered, even though he had brought a dead -buck rat to Denise, and besought her to curse the vermin.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Olivia, the goldsmith’s wife, brought a girl with a -purple birth-mark on her cheek. She desired Denise to -touch the stain that it might disappear. The birth-mark -remained for all to see.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>A woman in child-bed sent for Denise’s blessing. -The child was still-born the very same night.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Well might Denise feel that the virtue had gone out -of her, that the people were beginning to mock, and that -her prayers were as so much chaff. The bitterness and -the humiliation were not of her own seeking. They -had set her upon a pinnacle, crowded about her open-mouthed, -ready for the blessings she should bestow. -Her white garments, and her burning aureole of hair -had dazzled them, and the power of her beauty remained -with her still. But the mystery was passing; she had -profited none of the people; her prayers had burst like -bubbles in the air. And since the human heart is ever -a fickle thing, ready to scoff and sneer, and think itself -cheated when its own fancies fall to the ground, the -very children began to catch the spirit of their elders, -and to throw surreptitious stones at Denise’s door. -They invented a game, too, that they called the Silly -Saint, in which one of the girls wore a halo of straw and -attempted to work wonders which were never wonderful, -till the audience rose and rolled her in the grass. No -one chided them for such indecent blasphemy. Even -Dom Silvius was ready to wash his hands of Denise.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>There were more sinister whisperings in the air as -the autumn drew on and merged into the winter. Bridget, -the smith’s wife, whose boy had died on Denise’s knees, -had set her tongue and her spite against the saint. The -woman had been very bitter against Denise all through -the summer, laughing maliciously over her failures, -and nodding her head with the air of “I could have told -you so.” When neighbours had still seemed credulous, -she had put her tongue in her cheek, and mocked.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Bridget and some other women were spreading their -linen on the grass one windy October day, and their -talk turned upon Denise. As women will, they spoke -of the things that had been noised abroad of late. There -were some that said that Denise was no saint, that she -was no better than they themselves were, far worse in -fact because of her vows. It had been told that a strange -knight had kept a vigil near her cell, and the women -laughed, as only women of a kind can.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Bridget, the smith’s wife, was the bitterest of them -all, because of her dead child, and the spite that she -had nurtured against Denise. And as they spread their -linen on the grass she began to tease the women, and to -tantalise them with all manner of cryptic nods, and -sneers, and insinuations. The end of it all was that -much of the linen blew hither and thither because the -women were so eager to listen to Bridget, and forgot -to weigh the sheets and body gear down with stones.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Bridget was the fat hen with the worm in her beak, -and they all crowded about her as though to thieve it. -But all she did was to laugh and to smooth her frock -with her two hands.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The women set up a great cackling, and then ran to -and fro to catch the linen that was blowing in the wind.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Blessed Martin,” said one, “when the Abbot hears -of it!”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“A mighty poor miracle for Dom Silvius to boast -of! I could do as well myself.”</p> - -<div><h1 class='nobreak'>CHAPTER XX</h1></div> - -<p class='pindent'>The early days of December found Earl Simon lodged at -Southwark, while the King and his men prowled to and -fro in Kent, coveting England’s sea gate, Dover, that -the barons had taken in the summer. Earl Simon had -no great gathering with him in Southwark, for he had -London at his back, an ant’s nest into which the King -would not venture to thrust his spear. There had been -much bloodshed and violence in the land, and it was -De Montfort’s hope that Henry would show some wisdom -now that he had seen many of his great lords in arms -against him. A truce had been mooted, with Louis of -France to judge between the two parties. Yet no man -trusted Henry, because of his fickleness and his -foolish cunning, and because of the favourites who had -his ear.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Henry had hated the Londoners with exceeding -bitterness since they had pelted his Queen from London -Bridge when she had sought to escape to Windsor in -the summer. They had thrown stones and offal at her -barge, and the King, and Edward his son, talked of the -blood of the city as though it were the blood of swine. -It was even said that they had sworn upon relics to make -a slaughter there that should be remembered for many -years. Yet a number of the wealthier merchants were -for the King, partly because they hated the lesser men -and the mob, and partly because they had taken bribes. -There was treachery afoot of which Earl Simon knew -nothing, nor had he any foreshadowings of the peril -that was near.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Early in December Henry had attempted to win -his way into Dover. The attempt had failed miserably; -and the news was that he and his men were still lingering -on the coast. No one thought of him as within ten leagues -of London; the traitors in the city were alone wise as -to his plans. Earl Simon remained in Southwark, -debating the future with the barons who were with him, -and with the Londoners who would hear of nothing but -that the King should swallow the Great Charter, and -that the Provisions of Oxford should hold. They had -not forgotten Richard of Cornwall’s corn ships, and -the way Henry had attempted to play the Jew at the -expense of the starving poor.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>It so happened that Aymery was in the saddle one -December evening as the darkness came down over the -land like a rolling fog. Rain had begun to fall, a fine -drizzle that made the fading horizon in the west a dim -grey streak. Infinite mournfulness breathed in the gust -of a wet winter wind. Tired horses plodded past -Aymery as he sat motionless by the roadside, the -hood of his cloak turned over his helmet. A party -had been out to bring in forage, and Aymery had -had the handling of the escort, a few archers and -men-at-arms.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The last tired horse had gone splashing by, and the -creaking of the saddles and the breathing of the beasts -were dropping into the darkness before Aymery turned -to follow his men. He was about to push his horse to -a trot when he heard the sound of a man running along -the wet, wind-swept road. Aymery drew up across the -road, and saw a figure come out of the darkness, head -down, hands paddling the air.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The man seemed to see neither horse nor rider till -he was almost into them. He stumbled, recovered -himself, and drew back out of the possible reach of a -possible sword.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Montfort—Montfort?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Aymery reassured him, and he staggered forward -and leant against Aymery’s horse, panting out his news, -for he had run two miles or more.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Lording, there is an army on the march down -yonder. I was carrying faggots from a wood, when I -saw them riding out of the dusk. Their vanguard halted -under the wood, and I hid myself, and listened, and then -crept away and ran like a rabbit.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>He panted, pressing his ribs with his two hands, as -though his heart was gorged with blood. Aymery -bent down, and looked into the hind’s mud-stained -face.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Quick, good lad——”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“It was the van of the King’s host, lording, they are -riding on Southwark out of the night.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“How near are they?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“The wood is a mile beyond the cross where the -roads branch. They were resting their horses, the beasts -had been hard ridden, and their bellies were all -mud.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Aymery straightened in the saddle, and sat motionless. -The night gave no sound for the moment save -the soughing of the wind through some poplars that -grew near. Half a furlong away the darkness thickened -into a black curtain, hiding the world, tantalising -those who watched with the wraiths of a thousand -chances.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Yet, as they waited there on the wet road, a confused -sense of movement came to them from somewhere -out of the darkness, like the sound of the sea galloping -in the distance over a mile of midnight sand. Aymery -swept round, pulled off his glove with his teeth, and -threw it at the man’s feet.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Look to yourself, my friend,” he said. “They -are coming through the night yonder. Bring that glove -to the Earl, and you shall have your due.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Aymery clapped in the spurs, and went away at a -gallop. He did not doubt that it was the King’s -arms behind him, pouring upon Southwark to surprise -De Montfort’s weak force there, and take him -or slay him before the Londoners could gather to -his aid.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>As Aymery galloped through the night, the lights of -Southwark and of the city beyond the river came to -him in a blur through the mist of rain. He did not -slacken even when he came to the outskirts of the place, -but rode straight for the Earl’s lodging, shouting to -those whom he passed in the street.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Arm, arm,” was his cry as he galloped through. -“The King’s men are on us.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>And so he brought the news to Simon the Earl.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>De Montfort and his knights and gentlemen were at -supper, but they left the wine cups unemptied, and -made haste to arm. The Earl sent his son Simon to -ride across the bridge and rouse the train-bands in the -city. The narrow streets and alleys of Southwark -were soon in a great uproar with the running to and fro -of men, the tossing of torches, and all the tumult of a -hurried call to arms. A bell began to clash somewhere -up in the darkness. The narrow ways were full of -movement, of an infinite confusion that struggled and -chafed like waters meeting and beating against one another. -Trumpets blared. Leaders sought their men, -men their leaders. From beyond the river also bells -began to peal, the city was bestirring itself, and humming -like a hive of bees.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Aymery, rushing out from the Earl’s presence, ran -against a man with a fiery tangle of bright-red -hair. It was Waleran de Monceaux, that rebel of -rebels, driven by Gaillard out of Sussex. He caught -Aymery by the shoulder, and blessed God fiercely -because the Sussex men were the first to show their -shields.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Brother,” he shouted, “I have thirty spears for -a charge home. I heard you were here. Come. We -shall have the van.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>They went out together into the street where some -of the Earl’s men were already under arms. None the -less there was a dire tangle everywhere, the place choked -with disorder that promised well for the King’s men if -they lost no time. Aymery and Waleran found their -bunch of Sussex spears standing steady and stiff for the -night’s need. They were soon joined by other knights -and their men who gathered out of the wet gloom. De -Montfort himself came out, and ordered his archers -forward into the outskirts of the suburb, to scout -and discover what was happening in the darkness -yonder.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>A shout rose suddenly, and went from mouth to -mouth. Young Simon came out of the darkness with -torches, riding his white horse, and a mob of half-armed -men with him.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Sire, treachery, the gates at the bridge are locked.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Such in truth was the case, for the King had planned -the trick, and those of the wealthier citizens who were -in his pay had locked the gates and thrown the keys -into the river.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Simon saw his imminent hazard, but his sword was -out to hearten his men.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Break down the gates.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>And then, standing in his stirrups:</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Sirs,” said he, “let the King’s men come to us. -They will find it hot here, despite the rain.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>A number of archers came running back out of the -night, shouting that masses of men were pouring along the -dark streets at their heels. A blare of trumpets tore -the darkness. The narrow main street began to roar with -the rush of mounted men. The Earl’s trumpets gave -tongue in answer. In an instant a black torrent -poured forward as though a dam had broken, and -fell with fury upon the flood that lapped from wall to -wall.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>A man has no time to remember what happens in -such a fight when he is caught by a whirlwind of human -fury, and driven this way and that. Horses reared, fell, -and crushed their riders. The narrow street rang like -a hundred smithies. Blows were given and taken in -the darkness, men grappled together in the saddle, for -there was no room often for the swing of a sword. Aymery -found himself and his horse driven against the wall, and -pinned there by the mass that filled the street. He -struck out, with cries of “Montfort, Montfort,” and -was struck at in turn by those who bawled for -the King.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Aymery found himself being forced along the wall -his horse, scared and maddened, backing along the street. -The tide had turned in the King’s favour. The Earl’s -men were being driven by sheer weight of numbers. -The night had a black look for Earl Simon and his -party.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Of what followed Aymery could have given no clear -account, all that he knew was that he went on striking -at those who struck at him, and that he remembered -wondering that he had not been wounded or beaten out -of the saddle. His brain seemed to become dulled by -the din and clangour, and by the tumult in the darkness -and the rain. A roar of voices rose suddenly, flowing -from somewhere out of the night. “Montfort, Montfort!” -A great rallying cry came up like the sound of -the sea, for the Londoners had broken the gates, and -were pouring over the bridge into Southwark to rescue -the Earl.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>For a while the fight stood still, and then slowly, -and with a sense of infinite effort it began to roll towards -the fields. New men seemed to come from nowhere, -streaming up alleys and side streets to break in on the -flanks of the King’s party. Aymery found himself with -space to breathe; his sword arm ached as though he had -been swinging a hatchet for an hour. Comrades came -up on either side of him, they gathered and pushed on, -shouting for Earl Simon, and fighting shoulder to shoulder, -Aymery found the street opening suddenly upon a small -square before a church. In one corner a torch had been -thrust into an iron bracket on the wall of a house, and -still burning brightly, despite the rain, it seemed to -serve as a rallying point for those whose stomachs were -not sick of the fight.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>It was becoming a hole and corner business now, a -question of group fighting against group, man against -man. Each party had been tossed into so many angry -embers, like a fire scattered by a kick of the foot. The -Londoners were still streaming over the bridge. Their -shouts of “Montfort, Montfort,” held the night. The -surprise had failed, thanks to the hind who had run two -miles in the mud.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Aymery was pushing his horse across the square, -battered shield forward, right hand balancing his sword, -when his eyes were drawn towards a skirmish that was -going on where the torch burnt in the bracket on the -wall. A big man in green surcoat, and mounted on a -black horse was keeping some of the Londoners at bay. -And behind the green knight, just under the torch, Aymery -saw a knight in a blue surcoat on a grey horse, a contrast -in colours that struck him as familiar. The blue knight -was taking no part in the tussle. His comrade -seemed to be defending him, backed up by a few -men-at-arms whose harness gleamed in the light of the -torch.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Aymery spurred forward, and came to blows with -the man in green. Nor had he had much to boast of -when a mob of Londoners came up at a run and broke -into the thick of the scrimmage. Aymery found himself -driven close to the knight in blue. He struck at him, -but the other seemed to have lost his sword, for he did -nothing but cover his head with his shield. Aymery -caught the blue knight’s bridle, and urged both the horses -out of the press. He had a glimpse of the man on the -black horse trying to plunge through the Londoners -towards him. But he was beaten back, and disappeared, -still fighting, into the night.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Aymery got a grip of the blue knight’s belt. The -man appeared to have little heart left in him, for he -dropped his shield, and surrendered at discretion.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Quarter, messire, quarter.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The voice that came through the grid of the great -battle helmet seemed more the voice of a boy.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Aymery kept a firm hold of the gentleman, and rode -back with him into the main street. The grey horse -went quietly as though thoroughly tired of the night’s -adventure. Aymery had no trouble with either beast -or man.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>A great crowd had gathered at the bridge head. -Earl Simon was there, guarded by an exultant and -shouting mob of Londoners who were carrying him across -the bridge into the city. The crowd was so great that -Aymery had to halt with his prisoner, and bide his time. -Torches had been lit and their glare and smoke filled the -street where a thousand grotesque faces were shouting -“Montfort, Montfort.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Aymery felt a hand touch his arm, for he still had -hold of the blue knight’s sword belt.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Ah, messire, see what manner of prisoner you have -taken.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The blue knight had lifted the great helmet and let -it fall with a clash upon the stones. Aymery saw masses -of dark hair flowing, and a white face looking into his.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Mother of God,” said he, “what have we here?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“A woman, lording,” and she laughed a little, and -then said again, more softly: “A woman.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Aymery scanned her by the light of the torches, and -it seemed to him that he had seen her face before. Her -hair was dark as night, her skin the colour of a white -rose, and she looked at him with eyes that seemed full -of an amused yet watchful glitter.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>For the moment Aymery thought of letting her go -free, but the lady herself appeared to have no such ambition.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I am in your hands, messire,” she said. “Keep me -from the mud and the mob, and I will thank you.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Aymery asked her name, being puzzled to know what -to do with such a prisoner.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“My name?” and she laughed, and gave him a -look that was meant to challenge a possible homage. -“I dropped my name with my shield. Nor would you -know it if I told it you.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Aymery was asking himself what had best be done -with this lady in man’s guise. To many men the answer -would have been gallant and none too difficult. But -Aymery coveted neither the responsibility nor the possible -romance. Nor was he sorry when a happy chance intervened -between him and the dilemma.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>A number of knights came riding out of Southwark -with Simon the Younger on his white horse at their -head. And Simon who was an adventurous and hot -headed gentleman with the eyes of a hawk when a woman -was concerned, caught sight of Aymery and his prisoner, -and swooped down instantly towards the lure.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Hallo, my friend, who are you, and what have you -here?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Aymery showed his shield, but the Earl’s son recognised -his face.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Sir Aymery, out of Sussex! And what is this -treasure, messire, that we have taken?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>At the sound of Aymery’s name the woman’s eyes -had darted a look at him, like the momentary gleam of a -knife hidden under a cloak. Then she moved nearer to -young De Montfort, and was soon speaking on her own -behalf.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>He bowed gallantly to her when she had done.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Since you offer us no name, madam,” he said. -“Let us call you Isoult of the Black Hair. I am Simon, -the earl’s son. Also, I am your servant, unless our -friend here stands between us.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Aymery renounced all prestige, not having Simon’s -capacity for instant infatuations.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“It is no concern of mine, sire,” he said, with a -bluntness that was hardly courteous to the lady.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>A laugh hailed this frankness. De Montfort’s son -was looking at Etoile.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Will it please you to command my courtesy?” he -asked.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Etoile smiled at him. He took her bridle, and they -went riding together over London Bridge into London -City. Nor did Simon guess that this was the first ride -along a tortuous road that would lead him to bring -death upon the great earl, his father.</p> - -<div><h1 class='nobreak'>CHAPTER XXI</h1></div> - -<p class='pindent'>Winter had come, and since Denise’s cell stood on the -northern slope of Mountjoye Hill, it was bitter cold -there, nor would the north wind be stopped by such -things as a thorn hedge or a closed door. To Denise -the cold was but part of the misery that was closing upon -her, for people were hardier in those days, and less softened -by the luxury of glass and carpets. But it was not the -cold that kept her wakeful through the night, but the -blank and unpitying face of the future that never departed -from before her eyes. Denise knew the truth now, and -soon the world might know it also.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The Abbey folk had sent her no winter gear, but that -was Dom Silvius’s affair, perhaps due to his meanness, or -his discontent with her, or to the feeling that a recluse -whose prayers went unanswered needed to be chastened -by wind and frost. It seemed very far from that day -in May when the meadows were sheeted in gold, and the -singing boys sang her into the Abbey <span class='it'>leuga</span>. Denise -would have had no winter clothes, had not a good woman -who distrusted Dom Silvius, sent her a lamb’s-wool tunic, -and a cloak lined with rabbit’s skin.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>So the winter deepened, and Denise saw always that -shame that was coming nearer day by day. She knew -now how utterly she had failed, and the reason thereof -seemed in herself. Life had thrust hypocrisy upon her -insidiously and by stealth. She would have fled from -it, but the wide world seemed cold and empty, nor was -she free to follow her own will. Reginald the Abbot -was her lord now, both in the law and in the spirit, -he could have her taken if she fled, condemned, whipped, -and turned forth with contumely in the eyes of all. -Denise had her woman’s pride, a pride that shrank -from the thought of a public scourging and of open -shame.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Two weeks or more after Christmas, on a clear frosty -morning, three women came to Denise’s cell, and one -of these women was the smith’s wife, Bridget. They -had loitered on the road awhile, talking volubly, priming -one another for some enterprise. No one had come -near Denise for a month or more, save the Abbey servant -who left food at the cell, but never saw her face.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>So the three women came to Denise’s cell, and stood -before the closed door, smirking and making a mystery -of the event. They had christened each other “Warts,” -“Sterility,” and “Thorn-in-the-Thumb,” and their -business was to win a glimpse of Denise.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Dame Bridget, or “Thorn-in-the-Thumb,” made a -devout beginning. She was a big woman with a high -colour, and a mouth that was generally noisy, a woman -of coarse texture, and of gross outlines that showed -Nature as a craftswoman at her worst.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Bridget had picked up some Latin words, and she -began with these, as though such a prelude would impress -Denise with their seriousness in coming.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Sister,” she said with a snuffle, when she had come -to the end of her Latinity. “Here are three poor -women in need of a blessing. We pray you to come -out to us, Holy Sister, and to touch us with your -hands.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Denise had no thought of treachery that morning, -and she opened her door, and stood there on the threshold. -The three women were kneeling humbly enough in the -wet grass, their hoods drawn forward, their hands together -as in prayer.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Bridget showed a thumb red and swollen about the -pulp.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“There was a thorn twig in a faggot, Sister,” she said. -“I laid my hand to the sticks, and the thorn went into -my thumb. It has kept me awake o’ nights with the -pain of it.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Then Sterility had a hearing, and while Denise bent -over her, for the woman chose to whisper, Thorn-in-the-Thumb -nudged Warts with her elbow, and stared Denise -over from head to foot.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Lastly, Warts displayed her imperfections, looking -most meekly into Denise’s shadowy eyes. And when -Denise had touched them all and given them her blessing, -the three women departed, walking very circumspectly -till they gained the road. Then Thorn-in-the-Thumb -flung her arms about the necks of her neighbours, crumpled -them to her, and laughed gross laughter that was not -pleasant to hear. And they went up the hill together, -gaggling like geese, blatantly exultant over the thing that -they had discovered.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Very soon hardly a man or woman in the five boroughs -of Battle had not heard what Bridget and her neighbours -had to tell. Rumours had been rife of late, but this last -cup was spiced with the palatable truth. The women -spoke more loudly than the men, were more strenuous -and vindictive, more self-righteous, more eager to have -the hypocrite proclaimed. Mightily sore were some of -the worthy folk who had gone on their knees for nothing -before Denise’s cell. They were quick to cry out that -they had been cheated, more especially those who had -left an offering to bribe the Blessed Ones in Heaven. -The insolence of this jade, setting herself up as a virgin -and a saint! “Out with her,” was the common cry. -As for Dom Silvius he was little better than a fool.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>With all these hornets humming even in the midst -of winter, some of the older burghers and the head men -of the boroughs went secretly to speak with Dom Silvius, -and to show him discreetly how matters stood. Such an -open sore needed healing; it was an offence and -an insult to St. Martin, and the saints. Old Oliver -de Dengemare was their spokesman, a man with a wise -eye and a sagacious nose. Dom Silvius kept an imperturbable -countenance, and heard them out to the -bitter end, though inwardly he was aflame with wrath -and infinite vexation. “The jade, the impudent jade.” -His brain beat out such imprecations while the old men -talked.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>No sooner had they gone than he crept off to whisper -it all to Reginald the Abbot. Now Reginald was a man -of easy nature, bland, kindly, one who chose a suave word -rather than a sour one. Silvius came to him, cringing -yet venomous, slaver dropping from his mouth as he -stuttered and spat his wrath. He took the thing as -infamous towards himself; the greed, the self-love, and -the ambition in him were tugging at the leashes.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Let them hound her out and spit upon her,” he -said, driving the nails into the palms of his hands, the -muscles straining in his pendulous throat. “Let them -spit upon her.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Abbot Reginald placed the sponge of his placidity -over Dom Silvius’s mouth.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Brother,” he cautioned him; “such things should -not be spoken till the anger is out of one. A hot head at -night calls for penitence in the morning.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>He saw very clearly how matters were with Silvius, that -the monk’s zeal had turned sour, and sickened him; and -that he was mad that all his astuteness should have taken, -in the eyes of his little world, the motley of the fool.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“You are too hasty, my brother,” he said. “Does a -man whose wife has lost her virtue, shout it from the -house-tops? Come, my friend, let us consider.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>But Silvius would not be appeased. The fanatical -cat had spread its claws, a beast more cruel than any -creature out of the woods. Reginald of Brecon watched -him, as a fat man who had dined well might watch the -petulant tantrums of a child. He took to turning the -ring upon his finger, a trick habitual with him when he -was deep in thought.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“It is growing dark,” he said at last, glancing at the -window.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Then he rose and stood awhile before the fire. Silvius -had ceased to spit and to declaim.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“My cloak and hood, Brother Silvius. You will find -them there in the recess.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The monk obeyed his lord. When he returned with -the cloak, Reginald held up two fingers, and spoke one -word:—</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Peace.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>There was not the glimmer of a star in the sky when -two dim figures climbed Mountjoye Hill. A north -wind was blowing and whistled coldly into Reginald’s -sleeves. Dom Silvius jerked from side to side, looking -restlessly into the darkness as though his blood were -still hot and bitter in him despite the cold. Reginald -understood the savage impatience that possessed his -monk, for he bade him wait at the gate in the hedge, -and went on alone to the cell.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Silvius kept watch there, striding to and fro, blowing -on his nails, and beating his arms against his body like -a great black bird. He envied his Abbot the rights of -an unbridled tongue, for Silvius would have been a libertine -that night in the matter of godly invective and abuse. -He could hear voices, the dull, half-suppressed voices of -people who spoke earnestly, and yet with passion. Once -he thought that something stirred in the hedge near him, -for he was startled, and stood still to listen. A prowling -fox might have taken fright, or a bird fluttered from -its roosting place.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Meanwhile on the threshold of that dark cell stood -Reginald the Abbot, shocked, unable to retain much -store of anger. A shadowy something knelt there close -to him. The very heart of Denise seemed under his feet.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Lord, let me go,” was all that she could ask.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>And again—</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Lord, let me go, away yonder, into the dark.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Reginald looked down at her from the serene height -of his abbacy.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Daughter,” he said at last, with no sententiousness, -“go, and God pity you. It is better that this should -end. Yet, wait till the day comes. You would lose your -way on a night such as this.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I will wait, lord,” she answered, utterly humble -because of his kindness, and her own poignant shame.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>When Abbot Reginald returned through the gate -in the thorn hedge, Dom Silvius’s voice hissed at him out -of the darkness, for the cold had sharpened a venomous -tongue.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“The jade, has she confessed?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Reginald was possessed by a sudden unchristian lust -to smite Dom Silvius across the mouth.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“My son,” he said very quietly, “take care how -you cast stones.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>And he was more cold to Silvius on the homeward -way than the breath of the winter wind.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>But Silvius, that dreamer of dreams, that most mundane -monk, who thought more of the jewels crusting a reliquary -than the Cross of Christ, did a vile and a mean thing -that night. Denise, poor child, was to slip away, so -Reginald said, at dawn; but Reginald did not tell -Dom Silvius that he had left money on the stones whereon -she knelt. And Silvius, still venomous because he deemed -himself befooled, took pains to betray Denise’s secret -going. And the method of the betrayal was the meanest -trick of all.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>When he had seen Abbot Reginald safe within the -Abbey, he called two servants and went out with a basket -of victuals to visit certain of the sick poor. That the -hour was a strange one for such charity counted for -nothing with Silvius whose head was full of the ferment -of his spite. Many of the folk had gone to their beds, -but some few he found still lingering about the covered -embers on the hearth.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>It was counted for holiness to Silvius that he should -come on God’s errand at such an hour.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Feed my sheep,” the Lord had said.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>And Silvius fed certain of them that night with -hypocritical humilities, shaking his head sadly, and dropping -a few treacherous words like crumbs into mouths -that hungered.</p> - -<div><h1 class='nobreak'>CHAPTER XXII</h1></div> - -<p class='pindent'>A red, wintry dawn was in the east when Denise stood -ready for her flight from the Abbey lands, her rabbit-skin -cloak about her, and the hood drawn over her head. -She had knotted the money that Reginald had given -her into a corner of her under tunic, and the food that -she had saved from yesterday she carried wrapped in -a clean cloth. Denise had thought of seeking Grimbald, -but her heart had failed her at the thought of meeting -the familiar faces of the people who had looked upon -her as something superhumanly pure and wonderful. -The passion that obsessed her for the moment was the -passion to escape from the inquisitive eyes of those who -knew her, and to slip away into the world where she -would be nothing more than a mere woman.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>A robin twittered on the thorn hedge as she left -the cell and, crossing the grass, went out by the wicket -gate. The land was white with hoar frost, each twig -and blade beautiful to behold, and the arch of the east -red with an angry dawn. The hills looked big and blue, -and very sombre, and in the north the sky had an opaqueness -as of coming snow.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The brittle silence of a frosty morning seemed unbroken -as yet, and Denise, after looking half fearfully -about her, came out from the shadow of the thorn hedge, -and walked quickly in the direction of the road. She -would be away and over the Abbey bounds before anyone -knew in the town that she had gone. Reaching the road, -she climbed down the path into it, for the road ran in -a hollow there. A bramble had caught the latchet of -her shoe and pulled it loose, and Denise bent down to -refasten it, putting the cloth with the food on the bank -beside her.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Now Dom Silvius’s treachery had betrayed her to -the people, and Denise, as she fastened her shoe-latchet, -was startled by a shrill, gaggling laugh that seemed to -rise out of the ground close to her. The banks on either -side of the road were covered with furze bushes, and a -number of these bushes were suddenly endowed with the -miraculous power of movement. They rose up from -where they had grown, and came jigging down the steep -banks into the road.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Moreover these same furze bushes burst into loud -laughter, and began to crow with exultation.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“A miracle, a miracle!”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“St. Denise has worked a wonder, at last!”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Holy virgin, see how the bushes dance!”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Denise stood still at the foot of the bank, and the -furze bushes came jigging round her like mummers in -a mask. Flapping skirts and shuffling feet gave a human -undercurrent to the green swirl of the furze. Now and -again she saw a red, triumphant face, or a pair of brown -arms holding a bough, while the frolic went on with giggles -and little screams of laughter. Then, at a given shout -from one of them, these women of the winter dawn -flung their furze boughs upon Denise, as the Sabines -threw their shields upon Tarpeia.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The thorns were as nothing compared with that circle -of coarse and jeering faces that stood revealed. Old -hags with white hair, skinny arms, and flat bosoms; -women in their prime, rough and buxom, with -hard features and loud mouths; young girls, whose -tongues were pert and insolent. Bridget, the smith’s -wife, led this wolf pack, like a hungry and red-eyed -dam.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Denise’s face was bleeding, but she did not flinch -now that her pride had been driven against the pricks. -She looked round at the women, holding her head high, -although they had beaten her across the face. And -for the moment the women hung back from her as she -pushed the furze boughs aside, and made as though to -pass on without answering a word.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Bridget, the smith’s wife, stood in her path. She -flung up her head and laughed like a great raw-boned -mare, and an echo came down from Mountjoye Hill -like the answering neigh of a horse. On the ridge above, -where the dawn light shone, were crowded the men who -had come out to see their women bait Denise.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Bridget began the savage game with a word that -brought the blood to Denise’s face. The women shrieked -with delight. Taunts struck her on every side as they -crowded close on her, gloating, screaming, their mouths -full of cursing and derision. They began to shake their -fists, and to stretch their claws towards her, and the -smell of their bodies was in her nostrils.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Bridget swung forward, and spat in her face.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“She would work miracles, this jade, this wanton! -Where is my boy, you minion? Answer me that, I -say!”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Where is your man, eh?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“We know him, we know him! Let him show his -face here!”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Look at her, the pretty jade!”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Spoil her beauty. Strip her naked.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Out with the harlot. Let her freeze.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Warts, Sterility, and fifty more were howling about -her, drunk with the very noise they made. For a moment -Denise stood white-faced in the midst of them. Then -she disappeared in a swirl of coarse and violent movement, -like a deer that is dragged down and smothered -beneath the brown bodies of the wolves.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The road that morning was a martyr’s way as the -redness of the dawn waned and the sky became cold and -grey. Mouths spat upon her, hands smote her, and -clutched at her clothes. Buffeted at every step, jostled, -and torn, she was brought to the boundary of the Abbey -<span class='it'>leuga</span>, and driven out thence into the world. The women -even caught up stones and pelted her when they had -let her go, screaming foul words, and laughing in loud -derision.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Denise was as dazed and as exhausted as though -she had been wrecked, and washed ashore half dead -by some lucky wave. Her face was bruised and bleeding, -her clothes in tatters, her tunic torn open so that her -bosom showed. She drew her ragged clothes about her, -and went unsteadily down the road, with the cries of -the women still following her as she went. Denise’s -pride made a last brave spreading of its wings. It carried -her beyond the sound of those voices, though her feet -dragged, and her knees gave under her, and a kind of -blindness filled her brain.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Perhaps she struggled on for a mile or more before -she turned aside, and lay down under some hazels beside -the road. And as she lay there, dull-eyed, grey-faced, -and still half dazed, the power to think came back like -the sense of reviving pain. Horror of herself and of the -world took hold of her by the throat. It was as though -those women had spat upon her soul, and made her revolt -from herself as from something unclean. Those mocking -faces symbolised the mercies of her sister women. All -those who knew the truth would scoff, and draw away -their skirts. She was an outcast, a thing whose name -might broider a lewd tale.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Denise was no ignorant child, but a grown woman, -yet she was weak and in pain, and her very weakness -made her anguish the more poignant. She lay there a -long while under the hazels, not noticing the cold, nor -the sodden soil, for her heart seemed colder than the frost. -Life held its helpless, upturned palms to the unknown. -What use was there in living? God had deserted her, -and had suffered her innocence to be put to shame. -She was too weary, too miserable even for bitterness or -for rebellion. Inert despair had her, body and soul.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Presently a boy came along the road towards Battle, -driving an ass laden with paniers full of bread. Close -to the spot where Denise lay under the hazels, the ass -was taken with the sulks, and stood obstinately still. -The boy tugged at the bridle, shouted, thwacked the -beast with his stick, but make her budge he could not. -Denise sat up and watched him, this piece of byplay -thrusting a wedge between her and the apathy of despair.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The boy was a sturdy youngster, with brown face, -brown smock, and brown legs splashed with mud. He -rubbed his nose with a brown hand, and catching sight -of Denise, took her to be a beggar, and perhaps a bit of -a witch.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Hi, there,” he shouted, “give over frightening the -beast.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“It is none of my doing,” she said, surprised somehow -at the sound of her own voice.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“She stopped here, none of your tricks, old lady,” -said the boy.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Denise put back her hood, and the youngster stared.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Lord,” said he, “you have been fighting, and you -are not old, neither!”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>His curiosity was curtailed by the curiosity of the -ass, who took to kicking, sending sundry loaves rolling -on the road.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Hi, there, come and help.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Denise rose up, and went towards the struggling pair. -She took the bridle from the boy, and began to pull the -donkey’s ears, to rub her poll, and talk to her as though -she were a refractory child. The beast grew suddenly -docile, and the bread was saved.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Denise helped the boy to pick up the loaves. He -looked hard at her when they had refilled the paniers, -and then offered one of the loaves to Denise.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Take it,” he said almost roughly, yet with the -brusqueness of a boy’s good-will.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“It will be missed.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The boy gave a determined shake of the head.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Father’s bread. The jade served him the same -trick last week, kicked the loaves on to a dung heap. He -can’t blame me.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>He thrust the loaf into Denise’s hand, gave her a -friendly grin, and cut the ass viciously across the hind-quarters -with his stick. The response on the beast’s -part was a wild and hypocritical amble.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>This simple adventure on the road heartened Denise -in very wonderful fashion, even as the voice of a child -may interpose between a man and murder. It was like -a mouthful of wine in the mouth of one ready to faint -upon a journey. Denise watched the boy disappear, -hardly thinking that she had been saved from despair -by the obstinacy of an ass. She had the loaf in her -hand and the boy’s smile in remembrance, and the -mocking voices of the morning seemed less shamefully -persistent.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Denise broke and ate some of the bread, and finding -a ditch near with a film of ice covering it, she broke the -ice with her shoe, and soaking one corner of her tunic -in the water, she washed the blood from her mouth and -face. It was then that she found the money that Abbot -Reginald had given her still knotted up in her clothes. -And these two things, the bread and the money, comforted -her with the thought that she was not utterly -forgotten of God. Both blessings had come to her by -chance, but when a soul is in the deeps it catches the -straws that float to it, and believes them Heaven-sent.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Despite her wounds and her bruisings Denise walked -five miles before noon. The passion to escape from -familiar faces and to sink into the outer world, had -revived in her. She skirted Robertsbridge and its -Abbey, crossing the Rother stream by a footbridge -that she found. On the hill beyond she met a pedlar -travelling with his pack, and taking out a piece of money -bought a rough brown smock from him, a needle and some -thread. About noon she found some dry litter under the -shelter of a bank of furze. She put on her brown smock, -and mended her cloak, and then despite the January cold, -such an utter weariness came upon her that she fell asleep.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>When Denise awoke it was with a rush of misery -into the mind, a misery so utter that she wished herself -asleep again, even sleeping the sleep of death. She was -so stiff with the cold and her rough handling that it hurt -her to move, and the infinite forlornness of her waking -made her shudder. Something soft touched her face, -like the drifting petal of apple blossom out of the blue. -A wind had risen and was whistling through the furze -bushes, and buffeting them to and fro. The sky had -grown very sullen. Snow was beginning to fall.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Denise dragged herself up and drew her cloak closer -about her. She must find shelter for the night somewhere, -unless she wished to tempt death in the snow. -Yet she had gone but a short way along the road when a -sudden spasm of pain seized her, pain such as she had -never felt before.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Denise stood still, clenching her hands, her eyes full -of a questioning dread. The spasm passed, and she -went on again slowly, the flakes of snow drifting about -her, the sky and the landscape a mournful blur. She -had walked no more than a furlong when the same pain -seized her, making her catch her breath and stand quivering -till the spasm had passed. Nor was it the pain alone -that filled her with a sense of infinite helplessness and -dread. The birth of a new and terrible consciousness -seemed to grip and paralyse her heart. She knew by -instinct that which was upon her, a state that called up -a new world of shame and tenderness and fear.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Denise went on again, a woman laden with the simple -and primitive destiny of a woman. It so happened that -she came to a wood beside the road, and at the edge of -the wood under the bare branches of the trees she saw -a lodge built of faggots, and roofed with furze and heather. -The place seemed God-sent in her necessity, and her -anguish of soul and body. Denise found it empty, save -for a mass of dry bracken piled behind some faggots in -one corner of the lodge. The place had a rough door -built of boughs. Denise closed it, and hid herself in -the far corner of the lodge, sinking deep into the bed of -bracken. The pangs were upon her, and all the dolour -and the foreboding that take hold of a woman’s heart.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>It was bitter cold that night, and the snow came -driving from the north, a ghost mist that wrapped the -world in a garment of mystery. The wind roared in the -trees whose bare boughs clapped together, creaking and -chafing amid the roaring of the storm. It was a night -when sheep would die of the cold, or be smothered in the -snow drifts banked against the hedges.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The sky began to clear about dawn, patches of blue -showing between ragged masses of grey cloud. The -sun shone out fitfully at first, flashing upon a white world, -upon a world of brilliant snow schemes and glittering -arabesques, with the wood’s sweeps of black shadow -across a waste of white.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The wind had dropped, and there was the silence of -snow everywhere, not a voice, not a sound, save the -occasional creaking of a rotten bough and the swish of -its falling snow. The sun climbed higher, and the whiteness -of the world became a pale and blinding glare.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Now, the silence of the wilderness was broken that -morning by a slow and steady sound that grew on the -still air. It was the muffled beat of hoofs upon the snow -of the road that ran southwards along the ridge of the -hill. Presently the snorting of the horse, jingle of metal -and the creaking of leather were added to the plodding -of the hoofs. A man’s voice rang out suddenly into a -burst of song. The white world was glorious in the -sunshine, marble and lapis lazuli, with flashes here and -there of gold.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The muffled beat of hoofs ceased by the wood where -stood the lodge built of faggots. The snow was virgin -about it, and the man turned his horse towards the wood, -swung out of the saddle, and began kicking the snow -aside as though to give the beast a chance of cropping -the grass. Taking wine and meat from a saddlebag, -he brushed the snow from a log that lay outside the lodge, -and sat down to make a meal.</p> - -<p class='pindent'> And as he sat there in the sun he talked to his horse, -and gave the beast some of the bread from his own -breakfast. The horse nosed against him like a dog, its -breath steaming up into the frosty air, its eyes the colour -of sapphires seen against the snow. And there were no -sounds save the man’s voice, the breathing of his horse, -and the dripping from the boughs as the snow thawed in -the sun.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>In due course the man remounted, and rode off down -the road with the morning sunlight upon his face. Cowering -on the bracken in the lodge Denise lay dazed, and -weary, hands and feet numb with the cold. She had -prayed to God that the man might not enter the place, -and find her there on her bed of bracken. He had been -so near to her that she had been able to hear the sound -of his breathing, and even the breaking of the crust of -the bread.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Beside her on the bracken lay a white thing that -neither moved nor uttered a cry. Denise lay and stared -at it, half with dread and mute wonder, half with a passion -of primeval tenderness that was too deep for tears. And -as Aymery rode away from her into the morning, she kept -her vigil beside that innocent thing that did not whimper -and did not move. The snow and the secret silence -thereof seemed part of her life that morning, and the -eyes of the world were full of a questioning mist of tears.</p> - -<div><h1 class='nobreak'>CHAPTER XXIII</h1></div> - -<p class='pindent'>Aymery went riding southwards over the snow, a cloak -of furs over his harness, and the leather flaps of his -steel cap turned down to cover cheeks and ears. He -rode alone, for though the gilt spurs were at his heels, -his purse saw little of the colour of gold, and his horse -and his arms were all that he had.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>There was peace in the land that January, for men -had put up their swords, and delivered their quarrel -into the hands of the King of France. It was the month -of the Mise of Amiens, when Louis, Saint and King, sat -to judge between Henry of England and his people. -Men trusted in that Holy Heart, that Flame of Sacred -Chivalry, that had brought peace to France, and given -God martyrs on Egyptian sands. But Louis was a -King judging between a King and turbulent towns and -still more turbulent barons. Nor was it strange, therefore, -that a saint, from whose mouth should have sprouted -an olive branch, hurled back over the sea a two-edged -sword.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>A truce had been called, and with the sheathing of -his sword, Aymery had seized the chance and the time -to ride southwards into Sussex. Goldspur manor house -was a black ruin, but the manor folk were there, with -Grimbald to see that an absent lord was not forgotten. -No forfeiture had been proclaimed, and Aymery had -saddled his horse Necessity, and ridden to see whether -his villeins and cottars were honest men. Aymery had -left no steward over them, but Grimbald was more to -be trusted than any steward; no one would play him -any tricks.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Aymery’s road ran a devious way that January -morning, the road of a man who galloped ten miles out -of his path for the glimpse of a woman’s face. And -Aymery rode wilfully towards Battle, though Goldspur -lay over and away beyond the white hills in the west.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>About noon Aymery let his horse take his own pace -up the hill from Watlingtun. The slope of Mountjoye -seemed one sweep of virgin snow, and Aymery, looking -for Denise’s cell, marked it out above the thicket of -oaks where he had kept his vigil that summer night. -When he came to the place where the path should turn -aside from the road, he saw a muddy and much trampled -track leading over the snow towards the cell with its -hedge of thorns. It looked to Aymery as though the -whole countryside had made a pilgrimage to Denise of -the Hill. He followed the path in turn, giving Denise -her glory with the sadness of a man who cherishes an -impossible desire.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The ground about the gate in the thorn hedge had -been trampled into a quagg of mud as though many people -had passed to and fro that morning. Aymery dismounted, -and threw his bridle over the gate post, numbering himself -among those who had come for Denise’s blessing. But -the sight he saw startled him not a little, for there was -no benediction to be won there that morning.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The door of the cell stood open, and before it, in -the middle of a space of trampled snow, two of the Abbey -servants were heaping up straw and faggots as though -for a fire. The trampling of Aymery’s horse had been -deadened by the snow, the men had not heard it, and -he stood at the gate, watching them and wondering what -this meant. The two men went to and fro into Denise’s -cell, carrying out the wooden bed, the straw, and the -sheets thereof, her prayer stool, and cross, and other -lesser things, for Silvius in his first ardour had seen her -better housed than a mere recluse. The men piled -everything upon the faggots, and then stood aside in -silence as though waiting for someone’s coming.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Aymery tarried no longer, but marched out from the -shadow of the thorn hedge, a voice crying in him: “Can -it be that she is dead?” The two servants saw him, -and for some strange reason began to handle their staves, -while one of them went to the door of the cell, and spoke -to someone within.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Dom Silvius and Aymery came face to face outside -Denise’s cell that morning, for the monk had been within, -watching the unclean things carried out for the burning. -He came out with a lighted torch in his hand, ready with -canonical curses, hot and hungry for the chance of scolding -the whole world. But when Silvius saw Aymery, he -seemed to grow cold of a sudden, and thin with a malicious -carefulness.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>For Silvius saw the hauberk and the gilt spurs, the -long sword at the girdle, the shield slung across the -back, the shoulder plates painted with a knight’s device, -the golden claw of a hawk. And Silvius sprang to sinister -conclusions with the intuition of a woman. Here, no -doubt, was the woman’s paramour, some hot-headed -gentleman who had ridden in to discover how things -fared with Denise.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Silvius took no notice of the Knight of the Hawk’s -Claw, but plunged his torch into the straw, and watched -the flames spring up and seize the wood. The smoke -rose straight up into the still air, turning to a pearly -haze as the sunlight touched it. The monk stood there, -with bowed head and folded arms, as though too busy -with his own prayers to be troubled by any stranger. -But prayer was very far from Silvius’s soul. His eyes -were wide awake under their lowered lids.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Aymery came two steps nearer. Silvius raised his -head and looked at him, and saw at a glance the face of -a man who was not to be repulsed or fooled.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Whom may you be seeking, my son?” he asked, -watching Aymery out of the corners of his eyes.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The Knight of the Hawk’s Claw turned his head -towards the cell. Silvius seemed to enjoy an inaudible -chuckle.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Perhaps you have come for a blessing, messire?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>As yet Aymery had not spoken a word, but Silvius -read his thoughts by the puzzled frown and the alert -eyes.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Ah, my son,” he went on, beginning to sneer, -“you are wondering what has become of our saint.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Aymery looked from Silvius to the flames that were -leaping through the wood.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Has death been here?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Silvius’s eyes were netted round with cynical wrinkles.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Assuredly your saint is both dead and alive,” he -said. “Some of you gentlemen have slain the saint -in her. I will not ask you, my son, whether the guilt -of the sacrilege is yours.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>His sly, sneering face made Aymery’s manhood grow -hot in him. He was in no temper for sardonic subtleties. -Silvius saw a look in his eyes that betrayed a lust to take -someone by the throat. And Silvius kept the fire between -him and the man of the sword, nodding to the -two servants, and hinting without deceit that they should -be ready with their staves.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“My son,” he said, licking his lips; “we are burning -the unclean relics of an unclean woman. If you ask me -for reasons, I send you to my lord, Reginald, at the -Abbey. His word is law here. I am but a humble servant -in God’s house.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Aymery looked Silvius in the eyes, and then turned -on his heel, with a face like ice. He mounted his horse, -and went up Mountjoye Hill at a canter, choosing to -gallop at the core of the truth rather than suffer Dom -Silvius to lick his lips and sneer. Nor had horse and -rider disappeared below the sky line before Silvius called -the two servants to him, gave them their orders, and -sent them away into the town. He himself tarried there -awhile, warming his hands at the fire that consumed -those relics of an unsaintly saint.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>When Aymery came out from the presence of Reginald -of Brecon that day his face had the frozen bleakness of a -winter land. He walked stiffly, almost rigidly, with -nostrils that twitched, and hungered for air. The Abbey -servants fell back before him as he mounted his horse at -the gate. Here was a man who was not to be meddled -with. His face sobered them more than the face of a -leper.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Aymery struck his horse with the spurs, and the -beast leapt his own length, stood quivering a moment, -and then went away at a sharp gallop as though he -had the devil on his back. Aymery’s eyes looked straight -before him, eyes that caught the white glare of an inward -fury, and were blind to the outer world. The snow lay -white upon the roofs of the little town. Smoke ascended -tranquilly into a shimmer of sunlight.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Aymery was not to ride out of Battle town at his -own pace; Dom Silvius had seen to that. At the sound -of a horn a crowd of figures seemed to start from nowhere; -men, women, and children came running together; the -whole wasps’ nest was on the wing.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Aymery drew up sharply, for the crowd in front of -him filled the street. He did not grasp the meaning of -it at first, but stared round at the people as though he -were but a chance actor in some chance scene. A stone -thrown from the crowd carried a rude hint, striking him -upon the shield that hung at his back. And with the -throwing of the first stone the whole mob sent up a sudden -roar of anger.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Out, out, seducer!”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Pelt the sacrilegious dog!”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Here is Dame Denise’s man, neighbours.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Drag him off.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Roll him in the mud.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The uproar and the fury of the fools might have -dazed any man for the moment. The crowd came tossing -about Aymery’s horse, keeping a coward’s distance, -content as yet with stones, and filth, and curses. Thorn-in-the-Thumb -and her women were there, obscene and -violent, howling like cats, and urging the men on. Some -of them cut coarse capers, leering up into the knight’s face.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Aymery sat still in the saddle for a moment, looking -neither to right nor left. His lips were white and pressed -hard together, his eyes full of that shallow glare that fills -the eyes of an angry dog. The yelling and distorted -faces began to close upon him. A stone thrown by a -man near struck Aymery upon the mouth.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Blood showed, but with it a blaze of wrath so terrible -and yet so silent, that hands which were uplifted did not -fling their stones. Aymery’s sword was out. He struck -his beast with the spurs, and rode straight into the thick -of the crowd. And though he smote only with the flat -of the blade, they tumbled over each other in their -hurry to give him room, while those who were safe stood -open-mouthed, staring like stupid sheep.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Aymery rode through them as he would have ridden -through a cornfield, swinging his sword, and laughing, -the terrible laughter of a man who has no pity. No -sooner did the rabble see his back, than their courage -came again, the courage of dogs that yap at a horse’s -heels. They scampered after him, shouting, screaming, -pelting him as they ran. Thorn-in-the-Thumb, with a -bloody poll from the flat of Aymery’s sword, panted along -with the very first, her apron full of filth that she had -brought with her from her kitchen, and kept gloatingly -until too late. But Aymery never turned his head, and -leaving the slobbering pack behind, rode at a canter out -of Battle town.</p> - -<div><h1 class='nobreak'>CHAPTER XXIV</h1></div> - -<p class='pindent'>One day early in March when dust and dead leaves were -whirling everywhere, old Fulcon the baker, the meanest -man—so it was said—in Reigate town, went to and fro -along the passage beside his house, carrying in faggots -that had been unloaded from a tumbril in the street. -The carter had thrown the wood against the wall, knowing -that Fulcon would not give him so much as a mug of -water for helping to carry the faggots into the shed behind -the bakehouse.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Fulcon went to and fro along the passage like a brown -crab, a man whose back seemed built for burdens, and -whose bowed legs and hairy chest gave promise of great -strength. He carried the faggots two at a time, and -neighbours who loitered to watch him at work saw -nothing but the sheaves of wood crawling along upon a -knotty pair of legs. The boys of Reigate, who hated -the baker because he had good apple trees and used a -stick vigorously in defending the fruit, called him “tortoise,” -and “snail in the shell.” Sometimes a boy would -make a dash and pretend to try the snatching of a loaf -from the stone counter of the little shop. But Fulcon -had a dog who was as surly and as wide awake as his -master. Nor was it to be wondered at that dog Ban -had a sour temper, since the number of stones that -were surreptitiously thrown at him would have paved -the path in old Fulcon’s garden.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The baker had come near the end of the load, and -had disappeared up the passage, leaving the last two -faggots lying on the footway. He came back, picking -up the odd bits of stick that littered the stones. A -bent body seemed such a habit with Fulcon that his -eyes often saw nothing more than the two yards of -mother earth before his feet. Hence he had already -laid a hand to one of the remaining faggots before he -saw the grey folds of a cloak spread out under his very -nose.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Fulcon straightened up, and showed his natural -attitude towards the world by closing a big brown fist. -He saw a woman sitting upon one of the faggots, a woman -in a grey cloak with the hood drawn over her head. The -woman’s back was turned to him, and by the stoop of -her shoulders she seemed very tired.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Fulcon took her for a beggar, and Fulcon hated beggars -even more than boys.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Get up,” said he.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>And since she did not stir he repeated the command.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Get up, there,” and he reached out to take her by -the cloak.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The woman rose, and overtopped Fulcon by some five -inches. She turned and looked at him with great brown -eyes that seemed tired with the dust and the wind. The -baker stared hard at her, catching the gleam of splendid -hair drawn back under the grey hood. The woman’s -face had a silence such as one sees on the face of a -statue.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“The wood’s mine,” he said, grumbling into his beard, -and pointing a very obvious finger.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The woman looked at him, and then at the shop.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I want bread,” she answered.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Fulcon’s eyes retorted “pay for it.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The woman had a leather bag in her hand. She -felt in it, and brought out money. Fulcon’s frown relaxed -instantly. He stooped under the wooden shutter -propped up by its bar, picked up a loaf, and handed it -to her.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>To his astonishment she sat down again on the faggot, -as though she had a right there now that she had bought -the loaf. Fulcon opened his shrewd but rather sleepy -eyes wider, and stared. The words “get up” were again -on the tip of his tongue. But he smothered them, picked -up the other faggot, and giving a warning whistle to -the dog Ban who was lying in the shop, went away up -the narrow passage.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>When Fulcon returned, he stared still harder, for -the dog Ban was sitting with his muzzle resting on the -woman’s knee, and looking up steadily into her face. -She was breaking the bread slowly, and giving the dog -a crust from time to time. Fulcon might have reasoned -with her over such extravagance, had he not been the -creature of a strong affection with regard to the big -brown dog, one of the two living things in the world to -whom he grudged nothing.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The baker stood by, scratching his beard, something -very much like a smile glimmering in his eyes. Then -he gave a half audible chuckle as though the scene seemed -peculiarly quaint.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The woman turned her head, but Fulcon’s face was -as blank as a piece of brown sandstone. He looked -indeed as though he had never uttered a sound in his -life. Dog Ban lifted his head and stared at his -master as though it was unusual for Fulcon to -chuckle.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The woman asked a question.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“How far is it to Guildford?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Fulcon jerked his head like a wooden doll worked by -string.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Guildford? It may be eighteen miles,” and he -reconsidered the number carefully as though he were -handing out loaves.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The woman laid a hand on the dog’s head.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I am tired,” she said suddenly. “I want a lodging.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“A lodging.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Fulcon always echoed a neighbour’s sentences, a -trick that suggested caution, and a desire to gain time -for reflection.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“There are hostels in the town,” he said.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“No.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“There are hostels in the town.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“No,” and yet again she repeated the blunt monosyllable -“no.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Fulcon echoed the “no,” and stared hard at the -opposite wall.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Ban opened his mouth suddenly, and laughed as a -dog can laugh on occasions. It was as though the matter -was so absurdly simple that he was tickled by the way -these humans bungled it.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Fulcon caught the dog’s eye. Ban’s laughter -had been silent, his master’s came with a human -gurgle.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“You want a lodging?” and he approached the -question as something wholly new and astonishing, a -matter that had never been previously mentioned.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I can pay.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“You can pay.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The woman put back her hood, and gave Fulcon a -full view of her face. Perhaps he felt what Ban had -felt, for there was something in the woman’s eyes that -made both these surly dogs quite debonair.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I should give you no trouble,” she said simply. -“I have had trouble enough to teach me to be -contented.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Fulcon nodded.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Trouble,” he agreed. “There are many things that -bring trouble, more especially such a thing as a -King.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“My trouble began with the King,” she said.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Ah, to be sure; his men took all my bread -one day last year, and I had not so much as a -farthing.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>His voice grumbled down in the bass notes, and Ban -sympathised with a growl.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The woman felt in her bag.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I can pay you,” she said, “a little. I can work, -too, if you wish it.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Fulcon narrowed his eyes suspiciously, and looked -at Ban as though for advice. The dog wagged his tail. -That wag of the tail decided it.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Come up and see,” he said. “I have a little room -under the roof.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>And all three went in together, Fulcon, the dog, and -Denise.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Whether it was Ban’s friendship, or Fulcon’s complacency -in turning a good penny by letting his attic, -Denise tarried there in the baker’s house, glad to find a -corner in the world where she could rest awhile in peace. -Fulcon lived quite alone, though an old woman came in -now and again to cook, clean, and sew. The house was -of stone, and roofed also with flags of stone, because of -sparks from the bakehouse furnace. The upper room -where Denise lodged was reached by an outside stairway -from the yard. There was a small garden and orchard -shut in by the walls and gable ends of other houses. -As for Fulcon he lived in his bakery behind the shop, -he and Ban sleeping together in one corner like two brown -dogs curled up in a heap. Often there was baking to -be done at night, and then Fulcon dozed in the shop by -day, the dog keeping an eye open for customers, boys, -and thieves.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>It is one of the facts of life that gruff and surly people -are more to be trusted than those with burnished faces -and ready tongues, and so it turned out with old Fulcon. -For Denise found him steady and honest. The neighbours -declared that Fulcon was a miser. True, he worked like -a brown gnome, round-backed, laborious, and silent. -No man baked bread better than Fulcon; nor had he -ever sold short weight.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>So Denise found herself tarrying day after day in the -town under the chalk hills, where the beech woods -clambered against the sky, and life seemed still and quiet. -Though Earl Simon had taken Reigate the year before, -no memory of violence and of bloodshed seemed to linger -there, and the valley amid the hills waited peacefully -for the spring.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Denise had come very near to death that year, and -the heart in her still carried a deep and open wound. -She had changed, too, in those few weeks. Her glorious -hair was growing long again, and her eyes had a more -miraculous sadness. She was thinner in face, yet plumper -at the bosom. Some people might have discovered an -indefinable air about her, a subtle, human something -that was not to be seen on the face of a nun.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>A great gulf had opened for Denise between the present -and the past, and what her thoughts and emotions were, -only a woman could understand. She had lost something -of herself, and there was a void of tenderness and yearning -in her that hungered to be filled. A chance touch of -kindness could melt her almost to tears. She was very -silent, and very gentle. Even the dog Ban was something -to be loved and fondled, and in winning Ban she won old -Fulcon, that brown gnome who toiled and hoarded, -hoarded and toiled.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>One day he called Denise from her upper room, and -showed her the door that led into the garden. Within -were herb beds, brown soil turned for planting vegetables, -and a stretch of grass where the apple and pear trees -grew.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Grass turns white under a stone,” he said in his -grumbling way. “You will see more of the sun -here.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>And Denise was grateful to the old man, and she went -down into the orchard of an evening, and heard the blackbirds -sing.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Old Fulcon had taken a fancy to Denise. He began -to look upon her as a house chattel that was familiar, -and even as a possession to be treasured. She was silent -and gentle, and Fulcon was silent and gentle under that -gruff, ugly, and laborious surface. Denise paid him her -money, and though Fulcon took it, he kept it apart from -the hoard he had in a secret hole in the wall.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Times are hard, dog Ban,” he would say sulkily. -“Only a priest takes a child’s last pence.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Ban would approve, knowing that his master was -less mean than he seemed.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Be sure, it is no common wench, dog Ban. Noble -folk fall into the ditch, as well as beggars. She may -be a great lady, who knows? No kitchen girl ever had -such hands.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>So Denise tarried there, and old Fulcon seemed quite -content that she should tarry, and even began to show -less reticence and caution. Old men are often like -children; they turn to some people, and run from -others. Nor was it long before Denise discovered why -the baker toiled and hoarded as he did.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Fulcon had an idol, an idol that fed upon the father’s -gold, and that idol was a son. Denise heard of him as -a big, black-eyed, tan-faced sworder who had run away -to the wars before the down was on his chin. Fulcon’s -boy had swaggered, fought, and shouldered his way up -hill. He rode a great horse now, wore mail, and carried -a long spear. He earned good pay in the service of those -who hired such gentlemen, even had men under him, and -was a great captain in his father’s eyes.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“God of me, child,” he would say, “the boy was a -giant from the day his mother bore him! I can stand -under his arm, so,” and he would show Denise how his -head did not reach to his son’s shoulder.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“The handsome dog, he must have money,” and -Fulcon chuckled and rubbed his hands, “there is not a -finer man at his arms in the whole kingdom than Hervé. -He has fought as champion often, and no man can stand -up to him. Lord, child, and the way some of the ladies -have shown him kindness, but that is not a matter for -your ears. Hervé must have money, the handsome dog! -A lad of such promise must live like the gentleman he may -be.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Then Fulcon waxed mysterious, and looked at Denise -with cunning pride.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I have not given him all my money, oh no, I am -wiser than that, I bide my time. For though I have never -dreamt it, my dear, I know that some day Hervé will -win the spurs. Lesser men have fought their way to it. -And then, child, the old baker of Reigate will come out -with a store of gold. Arms, and rings, and rich clothes -shall the lad have. He shall not be put to shame for -lack of the proper gear.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Denise was touched by the old man’s love for his -son, and also by the trust he showed her in telling her -such a thing. For to one who had been driven out into -the world with shame and ignominy, such human faith -is very dear. Denise might be touched by old Fulcon’s -pride, but whether she believed Messire Hervé worthy -of it was quite another matter. The fellow was probably -a gallant rogue, with wit enough to possess himself of -the old man’s gold. It seemed strange to her that -Fulcon, who was so shrewd and grim, should be dazzled -by gaudy trappings, a loud presence, and a handsome -face.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Denise had at least found peace in the little town, -a time of tranquillity that stood between her and despair. -She had space there for quiet breathing, and no fear for -the moment but the fear of a chance betrayal. She -needed sleep and strength before the march into the -future, that future that seemed as dim and formless as -a strange and distant land. Her heart seemed doomed -to lose the very memory of a most dear dream. If she -thought of Aymery she thought of him as a man who -had made her soul thrill in past years, and was dead. -Her vows were broken, but what did that avail? The -past was dead also, after what had happened.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>One evening late in March, Fulcon came to her in -the garden, and she could tell that he was troubled.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“The bloody sword is out again,” he said. “Bah, -I thought they would let us have peace awhile. The -accursed Frenchman has thrown poison into the -pot.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Denise was ignorant of much that had passed in the -world around. She knew nothing of the Mise, and of -the blight that had fallen on the Barons’ cause. Pope -Urban, good man, upheld King Henry in the breaking -of oaths and the casual selfishness of misrule. Time-servers -and waverers were going over to the King, because -of the award St. Louis had made. Yet Simon had carried -his head high, and acted in all honour, he and the chief -lords who were with him. They had surrendered Dover, -and prepared to treat loyally with Henry about the -Mise.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Now news had come into the town that the firebrands -on either side were flaming in arms. Roger Mortimer had -ravaged De Montfort’s estates on the Welsh marches. -There had been skirmishes in the west country. The -Earl of Derby had hoisted his banner against the King. -Henry himself had issued writs calling his followers to -arms on the last day of March. The peacemaking of -Louis of France seemed likely to bring on a yet bitterer -war.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Fulcon shook his head over it, and grumbled.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“The King pipes the tune, and poor John pays. -There will be bloody work again. God give Earl Simon -a heavy hand.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>And then, as is always the case, he discovered compensations.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Hervé will have his chance,” he said; “how can a -soldier show himself without a battle!”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Two days passed, and news came suddenly that -Simon the Younger was near at hand, and likely to pass -through Reigate on the way. The news set Fulcon all -agog, for Hervé followed the Earl of Gloucester’s banner, -and some said the earl was with young Simon, and Fulcon -was as eager as any woman to see his lad. He went out -into the town, leaving Denise and Ban to look to the -loaves in the shop. And while Fulcon was away De -Montfort’s son marched into Reigate with a following of -knights and men-at-arms.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Denise saw the people running to and fro like ants -in a nest that have been stirred up with a stick. A -crowd began to gather, an anxious, whispering, restless -crowd, uneasy as a wood under the first puffs of a -threatening storm. For armed men in a town were too -often the devil’s retainers, were they friends or foes.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The sound of shouting came from one of the gates, -with the blare of trumpets.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Simon is here!”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The news spread, and men who had wives and daughters, -pushed them within doors, bidding them look -through cracks in the shutters if they must look at all. -A knight came riding by, carrying a black banner with -a white cross thereon. A few stray dogs ran hither and -thither, to be hooted, and pelted by the boys in the crowd. -Then suddenly, with the thunder of hoofs along the street, -came the clangour of young Simon’s company, their -spears set close together like black masts in a -haven.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Denise stood at the door of Fulcon’s shop, with Ban -bristling and snarling beside her. A splendid knight -on a white horse rode in the van. His helmet was off, -and he laughed, and looked about him as he rode with -a certain good-humoured vanity. Beside him, mounted -on a black mare, Denise saw a woman in silks of blue and -green, and a cloak of sables over her shoulders.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The way was narrow, and the crowd greatest just by -the baker’s shop. Simon the Younger reined in his -horse, holding his spear at arms length as a sign to those -behind him to halt.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Room, good people,” he said, gracious and debonair. -“We are not here to trample on honest men’s -toes.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Denise’s eyes met the eyes of the woman who rode -at young De Montfort’s side. And in that look the -shame of the near past leapt up into Denise’s face, for -the lady in the cloak of sables was the woman who had -ridden with Gaillard and Peter of Savoy the day they -dragged Aymery from her cell.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Etoile’s black eyes had flashed as they stared at -Denise’s face. She also had not forgotten. And once -again she looked down upon Denise, and mocked her -with lifted chin, and laughing mouth.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The street had cleared, and Simon and Etoile went -riding on together, with spear and shield following along -the narrow street. Denise had drawn back into the -shadow of the shop, her face still hot with Etoile’s sneer. -Her shame seemed to have been flung at her like a torch -out of the darkness. Denise felt as though it had scorched -her flesh. And while she hid herself there, Aymery rode -by among young Simon’s gentlemen, but Denise neither -saw him, nor he her.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Soon Fulcon came back panting, having pushed his -way through the crowd in the street. He blessed God -and Denise when he saw his bread untouched.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Five score loaves for Simon’s men,” he said gloating. -“I had the order yonder up at the Cross. Simon is a -lord who pays.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Fulcon was very happy, but Denise went to her room -above, sorrowful and sad at heart. The peace seemed -to have gone suddenly from the place.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Aymery, who had passed so near to her for whom -he would have pledged his spurs, served as knight of -the guard that evening at De Montfort’s lodging. Young -Simon and Dame Etoile were very merry together, -drinking and laughing into each other’s eyes. Aymery -distrusted the woman, and feared her power over the -earl’s son. It always seemed to him that he had seen -her face before that night in Southwark, but where, -for the life of him, he could not remember.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>And as he kept guard in Reigate town that night, -he thought of Denise, and of that dolorous thing that -had befallen her. The shame of it had not driven her -out of Aymery’s heart. Little did he guess that he had -been so near to her that day.</p> - -<div><h1 class='nobreak'>CHAPTER XXV</h1></div> - -<p class='pindent'>Simon the Younger went on his way, and Aymery with -him, Aymery whose face had lost some of its youthfulness -and caught in its stead the intensity of the life -that stirred the passions of those about him. All who -had kept troth with Earl Simon after the Mise were -men whose hearts were in their cause, and who set their -teeth the harder when the odds grew greater against them -day by day. Earl Simon’s spirit seemed like light reflected -from the faces of the stern, strong men who rallied -to him. De Montfort had no use for time-servers, or -the half-hearted.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Let them go,” he would say; “we want no rotten -timber in our house.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>When Prince Henry, Richard of Cornwall’s son, -sought the earl’s leave not to bear arms against his -father and his uncle, Simon bade him go, and return in -arms.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“For,” said he with scorn, “I would rather have -a bold enemy, than a cock that will crow on neither -dunghill.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Then Hugh de Bigot, and Henry de Percy left him, -but Simon would not be daunted.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I, and my sons will stand for England, and the -Charter,” he said. “I will not go back from my purpose, -though I sacrifice my blood, and the blood of my children.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Such was Simon the Earl when fate seemed against -him, and such were the men who gathered about him -with grim and silent faces, and the determination to -go through to the end. Ardour and high purpose were -theirs those months. The Mise had purged the cause of -slackness and mere self-seeking. The people of England -were to read the King a lesson that was never to be -forgotten by his masterful and more kingly son.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Some days after Simon the Younger had passed -through Reigate, a party of the King’s men came riding -into the town. They were very insolent and high-handed -gentlemen who swore that Reigate was a nest of rebels -because the townsmen had lodged Young Simon and his -following, and given them food. None other than Gaillard -commanded this company, Gaillard who was furious over -the news that a spy had brought him, the news that -Etoile had won young Simon as a lover. Gaillard spared -neither tongue nor fist in Reigate. These fat pigs of -English should be bled in return for the way De Montfort -had trampled on Gascony.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Gaillard was never so happy as when he could tease -and bully. He and his men, who were mostly mercenaries -from over the sea, took possession of Reigate, and established -themselves strongly there. They terrorised the -place, doing much as their passions pleased, taking all -they needed, and robbing even the churches. So many -of them were drunk at night that had the townsmen -showed some enterprise, they could have risen and rid -themselves of the whole pack.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Old Fulcon had shut up his shop, and baked only such -bread as he could serve out secretly to his neighbours. -But Gaillard soon heard of Fulcon’s frowardness, and came -riding down one morning to see such impudence properly -chastened. His men beat in the shutterflap of the shop -with their spear staves, and found Fulcon waiting sulkily -within.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The baker had shut Ban up in an outhouse, knowing -that the dog would show fight, and have a sword thrust -through him for his pains. Gaillard’s men dragged -Fulcon out into the street, and brought him beside the -Gascon’s horse.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Hullo, you rogue, how is it that you bake no -bread?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Because I have no sticks,” said Fulcon surlily.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“We will give you the stick, dog, unless you send -us thirty loaves daily.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Fulcon shrugged his shoulders.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I have no flour left,” he said, “and no fool will -send flour into the town,” and he grinned from ear to -ear.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Gaillard cursed him.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“What, you goat, you horned scullion, are we to -be starved! I will see to it that you have flour and -faggots. You shall bake us bread, you dog, or we will -bake you in your own oven.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Denise was in her room when Gaillard’s men broke -into Fulcon’s shop. There was no window looking upon -the street, and since Denise was no coward and wished -to see what was happening to Fulcon, she opened the -door and came out upon the stairway. As she stood there, -two of Gaillard’s men caught sight of her, and began to -call to her from the street.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“See there, the old dog has a pretty daughter.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Hallo, my dear, come down and be kissed.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Gaillard himself turned his horse, and looked up at -Denise. And Gaillard knew her, and she, him.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Denise would have fled in and closed the door, but -she seemed unable to move, held there by Gaillard’s -eyes. The man’s face had flushed at first, but he covered -a moment’s sheepishness with a smile like the glitter of -sunlight upon brass. Perhaps he saw how Denise shrank -from him, and for a woman to shrink from him made -Gaillard the more insolent.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Sweet saint,” said he, laughing and looking up at -her, “what do we here? Have we grown tired of the -beech wood, and Gaffer Aymery, and the Sussex pigs?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Denise closed her eyes, and stood holding the hand-rail -of the stair. She heard Gaillard laugh, and the sound -of his horse trampling the flints of the street. When -she opened her eyes, he was still there below her. And -the sight of the man filled her with such sickness and -loathing that she turned her head away as she would -have turned her head from some brutal deed.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Courage, Sanctissima,” said he, “only ugly women -have no friends. Master Flour and Faggots shall be -treated gently for your sake. Speak for me in your -prayers.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>And he called his men about him, and rode away -up the street.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Denise went into her room, and barred the door, -and sitting down on the bed, looked with blank eyes at -the walls of the room. A sense of utter helplessness -possessed her, so that she could neither pray nor think.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>So great was her loathing of the man, so poignant her -repulsion, that she fell into a fever of unrest that night, -and could not sleep because of Gaillard. Denise knew -how much pity to expect from a man of Gaillard’s nature; -bolts and bars would not avail in the town if the Gascon’s -whim sought her out. She felt driven out again into the -world, to hide herself, to escape from the very thought -of the touch of Gaillard’s hands.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>By dawn Denise had made up her mind. She would -slip out of the town, and throw herself once more into -the unknown. Life had so little promise for her, nor -was it in her heart to turn nun after what had passed. -She was ready to work as a servant for the sake of -a home.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Denise was not destined to leave Reigate town that -day, for Fulcon came climbing up the stairs soon after -dawn, and knocked softly at her door. He had been at -work that night, perforce, baking bread for Gaillard’s -men, but Fulcon had heard news, news that made him -grunt exultingly as he laboured.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Child,” he said, “come down into the garden. I -have a word for you.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Denise unbarred her door, and followed Fulcon down -the stair. He saw that she was fully dressed, but he -said nothing, for Fulcon made a habit of sleeping in his -clothes.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>When they had gained the garden the baker shook -his fist at some invisible figure, but looked very sly and -cheerful.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“The Gascon dog, the bully, the thief! They are -coming with whips to whip him out of the town.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>He went close to Denise, and touched her on the -bosom with a thick forefinger.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Sweeting, I was afraid last night because of that -hot-eyed wolf. But last night we had news, we English -pigs. Tell me now, can you hear a bell ringing?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Denise could not.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“No, child, it is Paul’s Bell in London City. They -are up, the men of London, and have flung the Frenchman’s -judgment back into his face. ‘King stands by -King, and cobbler by cobbler. No Mise for us, but the -sword of Earl Simon.’ Bold lads, let them shout that! -London City has risen. Hear the wasps humming. -They are on the wing everywhere, stinging fire into -Richard the Roman’s manors.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Denise had never seen the little brown man so excited -before. His taciturnity had become voluble. Dog Ban, -sympathetic cur, set up a militant barking.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“This pig of a Gascon knows nothing. We were -sick of his wallowings, and we sent out our messengers. -To-night the men of London will be here. The Gascon -and his fools will be full of mead and wine. We shall -open a gate. Then let these foreign dogs die in the -gutter.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>So Denise said nothing to Fulcon of her intended -flight, but chose to bide her time on the chance that -Gaillard would be driven out of Reigate. She had found -a refuge in the town, and she loved dog Ban, and -trusted Fulcon. Where else could she find a surer -shelter?</p> - -<div><h1 class='nobreak'>CHAPTER XXVI</h1></div> - -<p class='pindent'>Denise kept watch in her room that night, sitting at -her window that overlooked the garden. She could -hear old Fulcon moving restlessly to and fro below, opening -the door of the shop from time to time, and going out -into the street to listen. There was a full moon that -night, and though the town gleamed white under the -chalk hills, the narrow passage-ways and streets were in -deep shadow.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>About midnight a suggestion of secret stir and movement -rose in the town. Denise heard footsteps go -stealthily by, as of people creeping along under the shadow -of the houses. Men stopped to whisper to one another, -and once she heard the sound of a sword dropped on the -cobbles. Fulcon had opened his shop door again, for -she heard the creak of the hinges. Then silence once -more smothered the town, save for an occasional flutter -of sound, like the flicker of leaves on a still night in -summer.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Half an hour had passed, and Denise had begun to think -that nothing was to be done that night, when a burst of -shouting rose in the very centre of the town. So loud -and sudden was it, that all the dead might have risen -with one great and exultant cry, a cry that set the moonlit -night vibrating with the thrill of a coming storm.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Then a bell began to ring, quickly, volubly, with an -angry clashing to and fro. Denise heard men go rushing -by with a clatter of arms, laughter and loud oaths. Soon, -the whole town was in an uproar, and old Fulcon, standing -in the doorway of his shop, shouted and clapped his hands -together.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Tear them, good lads, tear them.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The wave of war had broken over the town, and went -splashing and plunging into every court and corner. -Denise opened the door at the top of the outside stair, -and stood listening to the roar of the fight, the wall of -the next house throwing a black shadow across her and -the stair. She could hear shouts and rallying cries, and -a sullen under-chant that seemed made up of blows, -curses, and the trampling of many feet. Confused and -shadowy figures went tearing hither and thither, appearing -and disappearing in the moonlight. A wounded and -riderless horse galloped by, screaming with terror. -Presently the glow of a fire coloured the sky with a blur -of yellow light.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Denise was leaning against the jamb of the doorway -when she saw a man come running down the street, a -naked sword in his hand, his shield held up as though -to hide his face. He stopped outside Fulcon’s shop, -dropping his shield arm, and looking about him cautiously, -yet thanks to the deep shadow he did not see Denise. -She took him for Gaillard, and was about to shut and -bar the door, when she heard Fulcon’s voice shrill and -thin with an old man’s joy.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Hervé, Hervé!”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The man had disappeared round the angle of the -house, and Fulcon dropped his voice to a cautious whisper. -The door creaked and closed. Fulcon and the soldier -were together in the shop. Denise did not doubt that -it was Hervé his son who had come with the Londoners, -and such of De Montfort’s men who were with them -that night.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Denise heard them talking together, the younger -man’s voice loud and rather aggressive, Fulcon’s a mere -gentle and deprecating grumble. The son seemed to -be asking the father something, Fulcon to be putting -Hervé off with reasons and excuses. Before long the -younger man’s voice changed its tone. It began to -plead and to persuade with an insinuating light-heartedness -that Denise did not trust. Old Fulcon’s grumble -became more persuadable. Denise heard a door opened, -and then the sound of a man’s voice singing.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The singing ceased. For some moments silence held, -to be broken by a sudden scuffling noise, and a voice, -thick and choking, crying “Hervé, Hervé!” A dog’s -growl joined in, fierce and threatening, to end in a piteous -and wailing whimper. Something seemed to struggle to -and fro with inarticulate anguish and horror. Then -silence fell. Nothing moved in the room below.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Denise was caught by an impulse that took no account -of self and of fear. She went down the stairway and into -the street, only to find the door of the shop barred. Her -hand was still on the latch when the door opened. The -man Hervé came out, huddling something under his -surcoat, his sword in the moonlight showing a shadowy -smear. He stopped dead on the threshold, staring at -Denise, and then pushed past her roughly, and fled up -the street.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>There was a light burning somewhere behind the -shop, probably in the bakehouse where Fulcon and dog -Ban lived and slept. Denise went in, wondering what -she would find there, nor was she long in discovering -Messire Hervé’s handiwork. A candle was burning in a -sconce on the wall, and close to the great brick oven lay -Fulcon, stretched upon his back, one arm covering his -face as though to shut out the sight of something, or to -break the force of a blow. Ban, in his death agony, had -dragged himself to his master, and crouched there with -his forepaws on the baker’s chest. They were dead, -both of them, Fulcon and the dog. A black hole in the -wall showed above the place where Fulcon had fallen, -and the stone that had closed the hole lay close to the -old man’s head. Fulcon had hidden his hoard there, -the money that he had scraped together with infinite -labour for the sake of Hervé his son. Denise could guess -what had happened. Fulcon had not been willing to -part with the whole sum, because of his dream that Hervé -would need it when he came by knighthood. And the -son had watched the father go to the hiding-place in -the wall, and then had beaten him down, and taken all -that he could find.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>A great horror of the place seized on Denise, with -the two dead things lying there, and the brutal violence -of the deed making old Fulcon’s end seem pitiful and ugly. -The horror of it drew her out into the night, as though -to escape the sickly odour of freshly shed blood. Shuddering, -she went up to her room, put on her cloak, and -tied such money as she had left into a corner of her tunic. -The grossness of the deed had shocked her, so that she -fled away like a child from a haunted wood, forgetting -such a thing as justice, and the fact that her tongue -might drop a noose over Master Hervé’s head.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Whither she was going, or what her plans were, Denise -did not consider for the moment. Blind panic carried -her away from a thing that had filled her with pity, and -yet with disgust. She seemed hardly conscious of the -fact that fighting was still raging in the town. Houses were -on fire not fifty yards away, but the scattering -sparks and the glare above the house-tops seemed hardly -to strike her senses. The burning houses threw up -a flare to match the horror that possessed her; such -surroundings seemed natural and to be expected after -Hervé’s slaying and robbing of his father.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Denise found herself at last in an open space where -many people were gathered, and torches threw up tawny -light under the white face of the moon. Here was much -shouting, much running to and fro, much uproar and -exultation. Now and again a sword or axe flashed -above the black mass of humanity. As Denise came -out of the darkness a party of men went charging through, -carrying ladders, hatchets, and iron bars. “Room, -room,” they shouted, for they were bent on stopping the -spread of the fire by pulling down some of the flimsy -houses.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>In the middle of the square sat a knight on horseback, -a knot of torches about him, and a pennon fluttering -faintly above the smoke. The motion of the crowd -seemed towards the knight, as though he were Lord and -King of the Play. Denise was caught in the crowd and -carried slowly towards the knight on the horse.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>He sat there bareheaded, calm and a little grim, the -torchlight flickering on his face, and on the harness that -glittered under his tawny surcoat. Men went to and -fro carrying his commands, figures in red, blue, and green, -going and coming through the crowd. He spoke so -quietly that at a little distance no one heard his voice, -but saw only the lips move in his stern and watchful -face.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>It was Aymery, lord of Goldspur, Knight of the Hawk’s -Claw, who had the command of the Londoners who had -rushed on Reigate. The crowd carried Denise close to -him, within an arm’s length of the circle of torches. -And with her nearness she seemed suddenly to awake -with a great cry of the heart that did not reach her -lips.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Aymery, Aymery!”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Her utter loneliness in the midst of that crowd seemed -to her symbolical of the past and of the future. She was -just a child that moment, with the passionate and pathetic -longing of a child, touched with the deeper instinct of -the woman. And by chance Aymery looked straight at -Denise, so that it seemed to her that he was looking at -her, and at her alone. She did not realise that Aymery -could see nothing but a moving mist of faces because -of the torch flare and the smoke. His face was so grim -and intense, and his eyes so hard, that Denise shrank -back, believing that he had recognised her, and that he -looked at her as a thing of shame. She hid her face from -him with bitterness and humiliation, and crept away -into the thick of the crowd.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Of all that happened afterwards that night in Reigate -town Denise had but a confused memory. She remembered -being hurried along by the crowd, with shouting -and tumult in the dark alleyways and streets. She had -a memory of being crushed against a group of panting -and fiercely exultant men who had blood upon their -hot hands and faces. One of them had thrown an arm -round her and kissed her, laughing when she shuddered -and broke away. Once a couple of heads went dancing -by on the points of spears, heads that seemed to mock -with dead, open mouths at the jeering crowd below. -Men were still fighting in one corner of the town, for -Gaillard had got the remnant of his followers together, -and was struggling to break through. Denise, still carried -onwards, saw a black mass like the mass of a town -gate rising before her. She was pressed against a wall -as the crowd opened to let a file of mounted men ride -through. She saw Aymery in his surcoat of tawny gold -go riding under the arch of the gate, shield forward, -sword swinging, his men crowding after him like sheep -through a gap. Then the rush of the people carried -her through the town gate into the space outside -the barriers. And when the dawn came she found -herself a mile from Reigate town, sitting under a tree, -with a cold wind driving grey clouds across an April -sky.</p> - -<div><h1 class='nobreak'>CHAPTER XXVII</h1></div> - -<p class='pindent'>Said Marpasse to Isoult:</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“If the Lord had loved us he would have kept -the King at Oxford until we came there to drink -wine.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>And Isoult, a little woman, the colour of ivory, lithe -and strong as a snake, threw a handful of sand at Dame -Marpasse, and laughed.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Since they have taken Young Simon prisoner,” -she said, “there will be no chance for the like of us under -the banner of the Old Earl. God grant that Simon be -soon put under the sods. He would freeze all the young -men in the country. God prosper the King.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Marpasse had taken off one of her stockings, and -was darning a hole in the heel, and darning it very -clumsily.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“They have slaughtered the Jews in London, and the -King should come south again to see after the remnant -of his flock. They say his host is moving nearer the -river. We must look to our manners, my dear; I will -be nothing under a great lady.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Isoult shot out a red tongue.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Supposing I look no lower than Prince Edward -himself! We must fill our purses soon. These cursed -marchings to and fro have left us out in the cold. Once -in the King’s camp, I will sleep in a lord’s tent, and no -other. And I will have siclatouns and silks, for there -will be London and half the country to plunder.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Marpasse looked solemn.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“They must beat Earl Simon out of the country -first,” said she; “the old watchdog keeps the meat -from being stolen. Phew, I would give something for -a loaf of bread. We shall have to bide the night here, -and chew grass. What a curse it is sometimes to wear -gay clothes, and to have no gentleman near to take one -up on his horse.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Great contrasts were these two; Isoult, black as -midnight as to eyes and hair, sharp, peevish, slim of -body, red of mouth and white of skin; Marpasse, with -large handsome face brown as a berry, hard blue eyes -shining under a mop of tawny hair, and a mouth ready -to break into giggles. They were resting on the road, -these excellent gentlewomen, in the shelter of a sand-pit -on the hills beyond Guildford, their baggage, such as -it was, spread about them in happy confusion. Isoult -had a great slit in her poppy-red tunic, a slit that showed -the white shift beneath. She was waiting till Marpasse, -that tawny woman who loved bright colours, should -finish with the needle. But Marpasse’s darning was -slow and clumsy, and Isoult plucked grass and gnawed -it, watching the sandy track that went winding down into -the valley.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Marpasse finished her botching at last, and wiping -the sand from between her toes, pulled on her stocking. -She stuck the needle into a wisp of thread, and tossed -it into Isoult’s lap. But Isoult was still gnawing grass, -and staring down the road with a brooding alertness in -her eyes.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Here comes a grey goat,” she said suddenly, spitting -out a blade of grass, and wiping her chin, “maybe she -is worth being gentle to. Who knows! At all events, -we are hungry.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Marpasse wriggled forward so that she had a view of -the road. One stout leg protruded from under the skirt -of cornflower blue, and the Juno’s limb betrayed a further -need of the needle.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Hey, grey gull, but you are tired, my dear.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Tired! Bah!” and Isoult bit her lips, “only -married women walk so, as though they had a stick laid -across their shoulders each morning.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Marpasse held her ground.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“You should know enough of the road, little cat, -to tell when a padder is footsore, and far spent. God -a’ me, but she is good to look at, though she be lame. -And a bag, too. If she has bread in it, I will call her -dear sister.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The woman in grey whom Isoult had sighted, came -to the mouth of the sand-pit, and saw these two wenches -in their bright clothes watching her; and when one of -them smiled and beckoned, Denise stood hesitating, and -then smiled in return. But the smile was so weary and -so sad, that Marpasse, that big woman with the head -of a sunflower, jumped up, and went out into the -road.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Marpasse looked Denise over from head to foot, yet -behind the rude and bold-eyed stare there was the instinctive -good nature of a coarse, generous, vagrant -spirit. Marpasse’s self-introduction was like a friendly -slap of the hand. She spoke straight out, and did not -stop to parley.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“The roads might be strawed with peppercorns in -this dry weather. It is hot in the sun too, on these -hills.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>She glanced at Denise’s feet. The shoes were dusty -and worn, with the pink toes showing. Marpasse laughed. -She was a hardy soul, and her brown feet were like -leather.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“If you are going to Guildford, you will not make -the town to-night.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I know the road, I travelled it only a week -ago.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“God o’ me, mistress, so do I. Come in, and -rest, we are two quiet women. And we have wine -and no bread. If you have bread, I will strike a -bargain.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Denise looked from Marpasse to Isoult, that slip of -ivory swathed in flaming red. The two women puzzled -her. She had neither character nor calling to give them, -but Marpasse looked buxom, and good-tempered, and -Denise had no cause to trust people who pretended to -great godliness. Moreover she was very weary and -very footsore, and very thirsty, as Marpasse had -hinted.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The first thing she did was to give Marpasse the bag -she carried.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“There is bread there,” she said, “and some -apples.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Marpasse stared, but took the bag. Isoult had crept -up, and her eyes were bright and greedy. She snatched -at the bag, but Marpasse caught her wrist, and gave -her a slap across the cheek.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Play fair, little cat,” said she, “I cheat no one who -does not try to cheat.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Then she turned to Denise with a laugh, her hard -eyes growing suddenly soft and bright.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Take your share, sister, and welcome,” she said, -“two mouthfuls of wine for a crust of your bread. -Come in. I will keep Dame Red Rose’s fingers -quiet. There are worse places to sleep in than a sand-pit.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Peaceable folk might have fought shy of these boldly -coloured, and bold-eyed women, but Denise had suffered -so many things at the hands of the world that she did -not stand upon dignity or caution. Marpasse and Isoult -puzzled her, being so gaudy and yet so ragged, so broad -and merry in their talk. When they had drunk wine and -broken bread together, Marpasse came and sat herself -at Denise’s feet. She unlaced the worn shoes, and finding -blood and chafed skin beneath, made a noise like a clucking -hen.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“You are not used to the road yet, my dear,” said -she, “it is time I played the barber.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>In her blunt and practical way she pulled off Denise’s -stockings, doing it gently enough, for the feet were -chafed and sore.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Black cat, throw me the oil flask.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Isoult demurred, looking a little sullenly at Denise. -For Isoult was fond of oiling and smoothing her black -hair, and there would be no oil left for the toilet.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Marpasse took it by force.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I understand these matters,” she said, “you are -a selfish brat, Isoult.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Marpasse’s broad face was so brown and kind, and -her hands so motherly, that a wet mist came into Denise’s -eyes. She was astonished that the woman should take -so much trouble, and was touched by her great gentleness. -Isoult, who was watching, saw two tears gather in Denise’s -eyes, and she started up with an angry toss of the head, -and a snap of her white teeth. Marpasse, bending over -Denise’s feet, saw those two tears fall on to Denise’s skirt. -She looked up suddenly, and for some reason showed her -roughness. Such women as Marpasse and Isoult had a -ferocious contempt for tears.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Bah, come now, no snivelling. I have not hurt you, -don’t pretend that.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“You have not hurt me at all. It was not -that.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Oh, not that! Then what are you blubbering -for?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Not many people would have troubled about my -feet,” said Denise, almost humbly.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Bah, many people are fools.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The two women looked at each other, and Marpasse -seemed to understand. She went red under her brown -skin, laughed at herself contemptuously, and began to -drop in the oil.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“The Black Cat has prowled away,” she said, -“and the cat is a selfish beast. Now for some cool -grass.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>She scrambled aside, and tearing grass from some of -the tussocks on the bank, moulded the stuff about Denise’s -feet, binding it in place with pieces of rag.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“You will walk easier to-morrow,” she said, smiling, -“and you had better buy new hose in Guildford -town.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>She was still smiling when Denise bent down and -kissed the coarse, laughing, good-natured mouth.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Bah, if you had a beard, it might please me,” quoth -Marpasse.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>But from that moment she and Denise were -friends.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The three of them slept that night in the sand-pit, -Marpasse showing Denise how she could scoop a hole in -the sand, and lie in comfort. And Denise slept till after -the dawn had broken. When she woke, the two were -packing their belongings into a sack.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Denise felt that they had been talking about her -while she slept, for they eyed her a little curiously, but -with no cunning or distrust. Nor was Denise’s instinct -at fault. “She is not one of us,” Marpasse had said, -“not yet, at all events, poor baggage.” And Marpasse -had looked almost pityingly at Denise, for her face was -beautiful yet very sad in sleep, bathed by its auburn hair. -“She has had trouble,” Marpasse had gone on to declare; -“curses, I was more like that myself once.” Whereat -Isoult had jeered.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Marpasse came over, and unbound Denise’s feet, -and in the doing of it, asked a few blunt questions.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Maybe you would not be seen with us on the road?” -she asked.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Denise’s brown eyes answered “why?” Marpasse -looked at her and smiled.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Where may you be going?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>This time Denise’s eyes were troubled, they had no -answer.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Nowhere, and anywhere? God o’ me. I learnt that -road long ago, and a rough road it is. Come with us, if -it pleases you. I am a wise crow.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Denise looked puzzled. She liked Marpasse, and -human sympathy was something, but she could make -nothing either of her or of Isoult, save that Isoult had -a jealous temper. They were so very gay for beggars, -nor had they the air of being upon a pilgrimage.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Perhaps you are for Canterbury?” she asked.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Marpasse sat back on her heels, and opened her -mouth wide to laugh.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“No, my dear, we are not for St. Thomas’s shrine. -We are in search of service, Isoult and I. Isoult is -travelling to find service in the household of some -lord.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Denise’s eyes were innocent enough as she looked -at Isoult, but the girl bit her lips, and turned away. -Marpasse had mastered her laughter. On the contrary -she was studying Denise with a questioning -frown.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Are you after St. Thomas’s blessing, my dear?” -she asked.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Denise did not know how to answer her, and Marpasse, -who was wondrous quick for so big a woman, picked up -Denise’s shoes and began to lace them on.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“You can come with us as far as you please, my -sister,” she said, “and when that body there is asleep -some time, you and I can talk together. I am called -Marpasse, and I am a very wicked woman, and the -good priests curse me, and the bad priests curse me also, -but look after me along the road. I am so wicked that -I shall certainly be claimed by the devil one day. That is -what I am, my dear; but a speckled apple is sometimes -sweet under the skin.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>She laughed with a kind of fierce bravado, and Denise -saw her eyes flash.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Isoult broke into a sharp and malicious giggle.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“What a good girl you were once, Marpasse!”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I was that,” said the elder woman, looking at -Denise’s feet; “men make, men break, and good women -prevent the mending. That is what life has been to -many.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>They set out for Guildford that morning over the -blue hills where the gorse blazed, and a few solitary firs -rose black against the sky. It was a wild country, and -Denise was in wild company had she known it, for little -Isoult had had blood on the knife she carried at her -girdle, and Marpasse could use a heavy hand. They -trudged on over the heathlands, Isoult walking a little -ahead, sometimes humming a song, sometimes glancing -back sharply and impatiently at Denise. For Marpasse -took her time, remembering that Denise was footsore, -and she talked to Denise freely, telling her where she was -born, and how she had lived, and how she had come to -the road.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“For we are beggars, my dear,” she said, “though -Madame Isoult there has a red dress. We must live, -and the good women turn up their noses. But good -women often have sharp tongues and sour faces, and -the poor men run to the mead butt and to us for -comfort.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Marpasse was so frank that she could not but doubt -that Denise knew what company she was in. But Denise -had taken a liking to Marpasse, and perhaps for that -reason she did not read very clearly the truth that the -woman put honestly upon her own forehead. It -was not surprising that Marpasse should draw her -own conclusions, yet she was sorry in her heart for -Denise.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The day passed, a day of blue haze, of blue distances, -and of sunlight shimmering over purple hills. Bees were -on the wing, humming here and there amid the gorse. -At noon the women shared out the bread, wine, and apples, -and Marpasse looked at Denise’s feet. It was near evening -when they came over the last hill towards Guildford -town, with the west a pyre of peerless gold.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Isoult, who walked ahead of the other two, turned -suddenly, and waved to them, and pointed towards the -sky line. And against the deep blue of the northern -sky they saw a line of spears moving, with here and there -the black dot of a man’s head. A banner was displayed -at the head of the company, but neither Isoult nor -Marpasse could decipher it at such a distance.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The line of spears went eastwards towards Guildford, -and dropped slowly out of view. Denise saw that Black -Isoult’s nostrils had dilated and that her eyes had the -glitter seen in the eyes of a beast of prey. She ran on -ahead, light on her feet as a young lad, and they saw -her stand outlined against the sky line, and then turn -and wave her arm.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Below, towards the valley, dark masses of men were -moving on Guildford town. The faint braying of the -trumpets came up on the evening breeze. Isoult saw -a part of the King’s host on the march.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>She tossed her head, laughed, and spread her arms.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“The good saints have blessed us,” she said, and -she looked at Denise curiously under her black brows as -though searching her inmost heart.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Marpasse beamed.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Our grey sister has brought us luck. We must -keep our wits sharp to-night.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>They went on down the hill, and Isoult, walking -softly and lightly as a cat, pointed out where a great -baggage train lumbered with a crowd of people like -black ants about it. Already they were pitching tents -and pavilions in the meadows outside the town. The -evening sunlight seemed to strike upon water, for the -glitter of the King’s host was like the glitter of a river -flowing in the valley. Everything looked so peaceful -and minute, so orderly, and yet so human. It was like -the green grass over a quagg, bright and rich at a distance, -but covering rottenness beneath. Up on the hills one -did not smell the sweat of the horses nor hear the men’s -foul talk, nor see the savagery that was loose in their -eyes.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Isoult turned, and looked sharply at Marpasse.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Shall we try the town?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Marpasse shook her head. Her face was hard now, -and her eyes watchful. Denise wondered at the change -that had come over the two women.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“A quick bargain is a bad one,” said Marpasse, -“let us bide our time, and listen. We are good enough -to take our choice. I shall keep my knife in my hand -to-night.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>And they went on down hill towards the camp that -was being pitched about the town.</p> - -<div><h1 class='nobreak'>CHAPTER XXVIII</h1></div> - -<p class='pindent'>Night came while Marpasse and Isoult were building a -fire under the lee of a grass bank in a meadow outside -Guildford, for Marpasse, shrewd woman, had no sooner -heard the din that the King’s men were making in the -town, than she had chosen to pass the night in the open -rather than within the walls.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“They will all be drunk as swine,” she said, -“and a drunken man is no bargain. Out with your -knife, Black Cat, and run and cut some of that -furze yonder. Some lazy soul has left faggots in that -ditch.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Marpasse made Denise sit down under the shelter of -the bank, for the grey sister’s feet had hurt her through -the last two miles. So Denise sat there in the dusk, -lost in a kind of vacant wonder at life, and at herself, -and at the strange way that things happened. She felt -tired, even to stupidity, and the sounds that came up -out of the town were not more audible than the roar -of a distant mill.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Marpasse and Isoult made the fire, Isoult using the -flint, steel and tinder they carried with them, Marpasse -playing the part of bellows. The fire proved sulky, -perhaps because of Isoult’s temper, and her muttering -of curses. Marpasse knelt and blew till her brown cheeks -were like bladders. The flames seemed pleased by her -good-natured, strenuous face, for they shot up, and began -to lick the wood.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Marpasse sat back suddenly on her heels, her face -very red, and shading her eyes with her hand, she looked -out into the darkness.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Poof, is it the blood in my ears, or do I hear something?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Isoult was also on the alert, her eyes bright under a -frowning forehead.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Horses,” she said.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“What are they doing this time of the night?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>From somewhere came the dull thunder of many -horses at the trot. Nothing was distinguishable but -the fires that had been lit here and there about the -town, fires that shone like golden nails on the sable escutcheon -of the night. Isoult, who was very quick of -hearing, swore that more than a thousand horses must -be moving yonder in the darkness.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Curses, but it must be the rear-guard,” said Marpasse; -“God send them clear of us, or we shall be over-crowded. -The fire will save us from being trampled -on.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The thunder of hoofs came nearer, a sound that sent -a vague shudder through the darkness as though something -infinitely strong and infinitely savage were rushing -on out of the gloom. The earth shook. A sense of -movement grew in the outer darkness, a sense of movement -that approached like a phosphorescent wave swinging -in from a midnight sea. Then a trumpet screamed. -There was a rattling and chafing like the noise made -by the tackle of a great ship when she puts about in a -high wind. A shrill, faint voice from somewhere shouted -an order. The belated rear-guard of the host, for -such it was, halted within a furlong of the women’s -fire.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Marpasse shook her fist at the dark mass.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Fools, you should have been drunk down yonder -in the town by now! We can do very well without you. -And as likely as not you will thieve our fire.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Isoult laughed.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Some thieves might be welcome,” she said.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>And Denise, who had listened to it all with tired -apathy, seemed to wake suddenly and to feel the cold, -for she shivered and drew nearer to the fire.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Despite the newcomers, Isoult, Marpasse and Denise -sat round the burning wood, breaking their bread, and -listening to the shouts of the men, and the trampling -and snorting of horses. It was pitch dark beyond the -circle of light thrown by the fire, though torches -began to go to and fro like great moths with flaming -wings. Marpasse and Isoult both had their ears open. -They were rough women in the midst of rough men, -and their instincts were as fierce and keen as the instincts -of wild things that hunt or are hunted at night.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Voices seemed to rise everywhere in the darkness. -A waggon went creaking by, with the cracking of a whip, -and the oaths of the driver. Mallets began to ring on -the polls of stout, ash pegs and Isoult pricked up her -ears at the sound.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“They are pitching a tent yonder!”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Marpasse nodded as she munched her bread.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Some of the lords must be near,” Isoult ran on, -“we may be in good company. The saints bring us -luck.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Her eyes met Denise’s, and there was a startled -something in Denise’s glance that made Isoult flinch, -and then burst into spiteful laughter. Isoult had the -wine flask in her hand, and she lifted it, and drank deep.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Blood of mine, have we an unshorn lamb here?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>She stared at Denise impudently as though challenging -her. Denise looked away.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Isoult’s face sharpened, the face of a little vixen ever -ready to snap and bite.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Lord, how proud we are! Coarse sluts, that is -what we are, Marpasse.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The big woman held up a brown hand.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Keep your claws in, cat,” she said, “you were -born quarrelling. Curse you, be quiet.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>And Isoult obeyed, having felt the weight of Marpasse’s -fist.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>It was not long before a couple of soldiers passed close -to the fire, and seeing the three women, red, blue, and -grey, they stopped, and began to talk banteringly to -Marpasse and Isoult. The women returned the men -better than they gave, and showed them plainly that -they had no need of their company, for the fellows were -rough boors, and sweeter at a distance. Denise sat and -shuddered, huddling into herself with instinctive disgust, -and understanding why Marpasse had a naked knife -in her sleeve. The men slunk off, sending back jeers out -of the darkness, for Marpasse had shown her knife.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“The sting of a wasp keeps such flies from buzzing -too near,” she said; “we are great ladies on occasions, -Isoult and I. We cherish our dignity for the sake of the -gold.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>They went on with their meal, hearing movement -everywhere about them in the darkness. Isoult’s eyes -were fixed upon a fire about a hundred yards away, -whose light seemed to play upon the rose-coloured canvas -of a tent. Men were going to and fro there, and Isoult -guessed that it was some great lord’s pavilion. As for -Marpasse she ate, drank, and kept eyes and ears upon -the alert.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Denise had nothing before her but the black half -sphere of the night chequered with the yellow flutter -of the fires. Isoult and Marpasse sat facing her and -looking towards the town. Therefore they did not see -what Denise saw, the tall figure of a man in war harness, -unhelmeted, and wearing a blue surcoat blazoned over -with golden suns. He came along the bank out of the -darkness, and stood looking down at the three women -round the fire.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Now Denise’s hood was back, and the firelight shining -on her hair and face. Gaillard stood on the bank above, -and stared at her, intently, silently, and she at him. -Denise felt stricken dumb, and the heart froze in her, -for Gaillard was near enough for her to recognise his face. -It seemed to Denise that he stood there and gloated -over her, opening his mouth wide to laugh, but making -no sound. She saw him raise his hand, touch his breast, -and then make the sign of the cross in the air, watching -her as a ghost might watch the confused and half-stupefied -terror of one awakened out of sleep.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Marpasse happened to raise her eyes to Denise’s face, -and its bleak, fixed stare put her upon the alert.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Heart alive, sister, is the devil at my back?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>She twisted round in time to see a man moving off -into the darkness, and Marpasse caught a glimpse of -the gold suns on the blue surcoat. She jumped up, -looked hard at Denise, and then went a few steps after -Gaillard into the darkness. But the man did not wait -for her, and she was recalled by a sharp cry from Isoult.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Marpasse saw Denise climb the bank, and disappear -into the darkness, and in a moment Marpasse was after -her, knowing more than Denise knew of a camping ground -at night. She still had view of the grey cloak, and Denise -fled like a blind thing, and like a blind thing she was -soon in trouble. She had run towards the place where -the night seemed blackest, but the passion of her flight -carried her into nothing more sympathetic than an old -thorn hedge. It was here that Marpasse came up with -her, while she was tearing her cloak free from the clinging -thorns and brambles.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>She caught Denise and held her.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Fool, where are you running?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Let me go, Marpasse.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Denise’s voice was fierce and eager, the eager fierceness -of a grown woman, not the petulance of a child. She -struggled with Marpasse, but the woman kept her hold.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Let me go, take your hands away!”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Marpasse found Denise stronger than she had thought.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Fool, I am holding you for your own good. Strike -me on the mouth, I am used to it. I know what a camping -ground is like at night. Some great, fat spider will -have you in a twinkling.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Denise struggled for breath.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I must go, Marpasse, take your hands away.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Saints, don’t shout so, they are as thick here as -flies on a dead horse! Ssst, listen to that!”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>She dragged Denise close to the hedge, for they -heard men stumbling and calling in the darkness.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Hallo there, hallo!”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Come here, you squeakers, and keep us company.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Find ’em, good dog, find ’em.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Marpasse laid a hand over Denise’s mouth, and they -crouched there while the men beat the hedge and shouted -like boys bird hunting with clap nets at night. They -were on the wrong side of the hedge, however, and soon -grew tired of the game. The women heard them move -off into the darkness.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Marpasse took her hand from Denise’s mouth.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“There, you grey pigeon, the night hawks would -have had you!”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Help me, Marpasse. My God, I cannot stay here.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>She was still in a fever for flight, but more reasonable -towards Marpasse. The woman sat down under -the hedge, and pulling Denise after her, held her in her -arms.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Let me play mother,” quoth she gently, “keep -to a whisper, my dear. I know something about -trouble.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>So with the camp fires about them, and with the -sound of trumpets blown madly and at random in the -town below, these two women opened their hearts to -one another. Denise told Marpasse how Gaillard had -served her, how she had seen him that night, how she -loathed and feared the man, and Marpasse understood. -She was wise, poor wench, in the ways of the world, and -Denise’s tale might have been her own in measure. But -Marpasse had not been wholly hardened and brutalised -by the life she had led. She had the instinct of generosity -left in her, and she could be superlatively honest when -she was not rebuffed by sneers.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Marpasse had an honest fit that night. She told -Denise the truth about herself, and knew by Denise’s -silence and a certain stiffening of her body that the truth -had roused a counter-shock of repulsion. Denise’s -instincts recoiled from Marpasse. The woman was -sensitive to the change. She drew aside from Denise, -and sat with her knees drawn up, and her arms clasped -over them.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“You are like the rest of the world, sister,” she said, -with a laugh on edge with bitterness; “even when we -try to be honest, good people spit on us, and draw aside -their clothes.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Denise stretched out a hand and touched Marpasse’s -shoulder.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“It is not that,” she said.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Bah, I am used to it! We are never forgiven, -and I want no forgiveness. Fawn and cringe on the -godly? To hell with their smug faces! But after all, -you and I, my dear——”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>She stopped, and began to pull at the grass with -her hands. Denise’s eyes were shining.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“God forgive us both, Marpasse. Sometimes -fate is stronger than we are. We are sisters, in -that.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Marpasse did not move. It was Denise now who -played the comforter. Marpasse did not repel her a -second time.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Bah,” said she, “what is the use of talking? The -good people will never let me be other than I am, and -even a pig must live. But you, you can climb out of -the quagmire, my dear. The Gascon devil, I would -stick my knife in him for nothing. Listen to me now, -we must go back to the fire, and wait till the morning. -It will be easier to bolt then. You must not risk it in -the dark.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Denise still clung to the darkness, as though it -could keep Gaillard at arm’s length. Marpasse scolded -her.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Why, you chicken, you have never learnt how to -rule a man! Who is this Gaillard, indeed? I tell you -I am not afraid of him, Marpasse is a match for any -Gascon.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>She held out her arms, and the Denise she held in -them was white-faced, and very earnest.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“You have a knife, Marpasse,” she said, “you can -strike me if needs be.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Marpasse held her close.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“There, now, there, what mad things are you saying?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>But Denise clung to her passionately, looking straight -into Marpasse’s eyes.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Promise to strike with the knife, Marpasse. Promise -or I will run, and take my chance.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>And Marpasse promised so far as the knife was concerned, -knowing that she would strike Gaillard before -she struck Denise.</p> - -<div><h1 class='nobreak'>CHAPTER XXIX</h1></div> - -<p class='pindent'>When they returned to the fire Isoult was no longer -there, but she had left some sign behind her that Marpasse -understood, for the elder woman showed no concern. -She was discreetly curt with Denise when the latter began -to wonder what had befallen Isoult.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Lie down and sleep, my dear,” she said, “and take -care of your feet, for you will want them on the morrow. -The black cat can see in the dark, she will come to no -harm, will Isoult.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Marpasse might as well have told Denise to love -Gaillard as to sleep. Her brain was full of a listening -wakefulness that started uneasily when a stick cracked -on the fire. So she and Marpasse kept vigil together, -while a gradual silence spread over the valley with its -armed host and its sombre town. Nor were Marpasse -and Denise disturbed that night, for the men of the rear-guard -had been marched and counter-marched that day -owing to some mad rumour, and they were dead tired, -and glad to snore under any hedge.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The dawn came listlessly, and without colour. The -birds were awake and singing, and with their song, bizarre -and discordant came the blowing of trumpets and the -stupid curses of the stirring men. The dawn seemed -heavy, and full of a dull discontent. Yet the birds sang, -and the men cursed perfunctorily, sulkily, the creatures -of a habit. So with the voices of the morning thrilling -from the throats of the choir invisible, the camp of the -King was one great oath.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Denise was ready, and shivering to be gone. The -fire was out, her body stiff and cold, the dew heavy upon -the grass. The dawn had shown Denise how hemmed -in she and Marpasse were. Horses stood tethered everywhere, -gaunt, clumsy waggons waited like patient mammoths, -not a hundred yards away a red pavilion had been -pitched, its coloured canvas swelling and falling lazily -with the morning breeze. The babel of coarse, rough -voices that rose out of the green earth made Denise shudder -and yearn to be gone.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>But Marpasse held her ground.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Food and drink first,” she said.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Denise’s restless eyes betrayed her desire.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Rest easy,” Marpasse assured her, “men are meek -in the morning, though they curse all heaven and earth. -Eat and drink, and see that your shoes sit comfortably.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Denise ate with such hurry and such artificial greed -that Marpasse could not help but laugh.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“My teeth are not so good as yours,” she said; “if -your legs are as sound we shall not do amiss.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Denise’s eyes were on the red pavilion. The flap -thereof was open, and in the black slit that clove like a -wedge into the colour, Denise thought that she saw a -man standing and looking towards where she and Marpasse -sat. Marpasse was still at her meal, when two men-at-arms -came out of the red pavilion, carrying their shields -as servers carry dishes to a table. They came over the -grass towards the women, while a man in a blue surcoat -appeared at the door of the pavilion, and stood as though -to watch.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Denise half rose, but Marpasse caught her, and pulled -her back.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Sit still. You are far too simple.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“It is Gaillard, yonder!”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Yes, yes. Fool him first, my dear, and then run -away when he is not looking. That is what we women -have to do when men are the stronger.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The two soldiers came up, and stood before Denise. -One carried food and a flask of wine in the hollow of his -shield; the other, a red scarf and a silver girdle.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Messire Gaillard, our lord, yonder, begs for the -Lady Denise’s good-will.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Marpasse beckoned with her arm.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Give them here, sirs, my good will is worth -homage.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The men grinned, and inclined their heads with quaint -accord towards Denise.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“It is the grey, not the blue,” said one.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Denise stared at the grass, and did not catch Marpasse’s -urgent nods and winks.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I take no gifts from Messire Gaillard,” she said.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Marpasse made an impatient clucking with her -tongue. How prejudiced people did bungle matters, to -be sure!</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Think twice, my dear,” she said meaningly.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Denise repeated the same words. The men grinned, -looked at one another, and did not stir.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Messire Gaillard,” said they, “has set us at your -service. It is proper that you should be guarded when -all men are not as honourable as our lord.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Denise saw herself trapped, and went red, and then -white. She looked at Marpasse, but Marpasse stared -obtusely into the distance, knowing that they were in -the Gascon’s hands, and that the men had been sent to -see that they did not flit. Marpasse remembered the -promise of the knife, but the morning was cold and grey, -and Marpasse too practical and hopeful to indulge in -such heroics. Therefore she put the best face she could -upon it for Denise’s sake, and Marpasse knew how to -deal with men.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Sit down, gentlemen,” said she, “I am sorry the -fire is out, but we shall be moving before long. You, -there, with the beard, since my sister is in the sulks, -I will take some of that baked meat and wine you have -brought us. Now, good health to the King, and all -soldiers.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Marpasse ate and drank with relish, a second breakfast -not coming at all amiss to her, and she talked and laughed -with the men, and soon had them at her service. Denise -would touch nothing, though Marpasse smiled, nodded -and whispered in her ear. “Courage, girl,” she said, -“leave it to me, a laugh and a flash of the eyes work -marvels, even with pigs. We will spread our fingers -at them before the day is old.” But Denise sat like one -stunned, and would not believe that Marpasse meant -what she said. The red tent had a fascination for Denise, -and she saw Gaillard and two other knights come out, -sit down on cloaks their servants spread for them, and -make a meal. Then they were washed, barbered, and -armed in full view of the two women, while a boy stood -near, and sang to the sound of a lute. The whole camp -was full of stir and movement. Already, black columns -were pouring out of Guildford town. In an hour the -whole host would be on the march.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>So it befell that Denise found herself walking beside -Marpasse that morning at the tail of Gaillard’s company -of spears. The two men-at-arms who had been set to -guard them, walked their horses one on either side. -Marpasse trudged along, merry and insolent; Denise, -with her thoughts humbled into the dust. Gaillard -had ridden up and spoken to her, not mockingly, but -with the arrogance of a man in power. “Sanctissima,” -he had said, “before long I will find you a palfrey, and -you shall ride at my side. Hold up your head, my dear, -and be sensible; I have something on my conscience, -and by my sword, I am not unready to right a wrong.” -Denise had answered him nothing, for she was bitter -with the humiliation of it, and that Gaillard of all men -should look at her as on one whom he might graciously -lift up out of the mire. Chance had joined her to these -two women, and she guessed that Isoult’s red gown had -coloured Gaillard’s vision.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>When they had gone a mile or more Denise asked -Marpasse in an undertone for her knife. But Marpasse -shut her mouth firmly, and shook her head.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Have patience, my dear,” she said in a whisper, -“I have my trick to play. Be ready when I give the -word.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>And Marpasse trudged on cheerfully, mocking at -herself in her heart.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Fool,” she said to herself, “what is the girl to you? -Why burn your fingers pulling cinders out of the fire? -You may get kicks for it, and no money. And you may -lose your chance, too, of getting a lover. Fool! You -have had a heart of pap ever since you were born.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Yet though Marpasse talked to herself thus, her mind -was set on cheating Gaillard of Denise.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The King’s host went winding through the green -valleys that spring morning, marching Kentwards, -where Earl Simon had taken the town of Rochester by -assault, and pressed hard upon John de Warenne who -held out in the castle. Horse and foot, archers and -camp-followers, baggage-waggons, sumpter mules, and -loose women, made up the stream of steel and colour. -It was a rough, careless, confident march, for had not -the first triumphs fallen to the King? Northampton -had been taken, and Simon the Younger made prisoner, -with Madame Etoile, his lady. Leicester and Nottingham -had fallen, and Gifford’s seizure and destruction of -Warwick was all that the Barons could claim on their -side. The Mise had gilded Henry’s cause. Even the -King of the Scots had sent aid to his Brother of England; -a Balliol, a Bruce, and a Comyn were among his captains. -John de Warenne should keep Earl Simon under Rochester’s -walls, until the King should come and crush him, -or drive him headlong over the sea.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Henry, weak, persuadable, false, yet brilliant gentleman, -might count himself strong that spring, with his -Poitevins and his adventurers, and the rougher lords -who preferred the licence of a weak King to the justice -of Earl Simon. But the old lion was not driven to bay -yet, much less cowed or beaten. De Montfort and -his men were not asleep, nor over confident like the -King’s party. Rochester might be many miles away, -but Earl Simon had sent some of his most trusted men -to watch the march of the King’s army, to judge its -strength, and keep him warned as to all that passed.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Waleran de Monceaux and Sir Aymery, woodlanders -both of them, and wise in woodland law, lay that morning -in a coppice close to the road and watched the King’s -host go by. These Sussex men were men whom De -Montfort trusted to the death. And they lay on their -bellies in the thick of the dead bracken and the brambles, -two wise dogs that saw and were not seen.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Aymery was stretched at full length, his chin upon -his two fists, his grey eyes at gaze, while Waleran, more -restless and impetuous, carried on a mumbling monologue, -and chewed grass with hungry jaws. They were counting -the banners and the pennons, and marking as best they -could the lords and knights who were with the King. -Aymery lay still enough till Gaillard’s company came up, -the Gascon riding bareheaded, his blue surcoat ablaze -with its golden suns. Gaillard had found favour with -the King, despite the happenings at Pevensey, and the -anger of Peter of Savoy. Aymery knew Gaillard at -the first glance, and set his teeth hard so that the muscles -stood out about his jaw.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Yet the tail of Gaillard’s company brought a far -fiercer inspiration, for Denise walked there beside Marpasse, -Denise with her hair of red gold shining like a -torch against the green. She walked as one going to -the ordeal of fire, white-faced, mute, looking neither to -the right hand nor left. Her grey cloak went like a cloud -beside Marpasse’s azure blue. The two men-at-arms -rode stolidly behind, while the men in the rear rank -of Gaillard’s troop were laughing and joking with Marpasse.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Aymery stiffened as he lay, and his hand went to -the sword in the dead bracken beside him. He scrambled -suddenly to his knees, with a fierce, inarticulate cry deep -down in his throat. Waleran seized him, and dragged -him back to cover, for they were so near the road that -the slightest movement might betray them.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“God, man, are you mad!”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Aymery lay there a moment with his face on his -arms. He said nothing to Waleran, but when he raised -his head again his face was grim and full of thought. -He kept watch there in silence, but the road was empty -now save for a few camp-followers, women and beggars. -Aymery rose on one elbow, and looked towards the -drifting dust that hung on the heels of the King’s host.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>He turned suddenly to Waleran.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Brother, you and I must part company for a while. -Go back to our men. I must follow the march farther.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Waleran looked at him curiously out of half-closed -eyes.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I know the man you are. Simon trusts us both.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>They scrambled up out of their “forms,” and went -back through the wood till they came to a dell where -they had left their horses. Aymery laid his hands on -Waleran’s shoulders.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Brother-in-arms,” he said, “trust me. I have a -book to read, and a debt to pay. There is nothing of -the traitor in my heart.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Waleran hugged him like a bear.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Blood of my father, I know that! I can carry -the news.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>They parted there, two men who loved and trusted -one another. Aymery took spear, shield, and helmet, -and mounted his horse to follow the march of the King’s -host, that splendid stream that seemed to gather and -to carry with it all the pomp and music, the violence -and passion, and the suffering sinfulness that the land -held.</p> - -<div><h1 class='nobreak'>CHAPTER XXX</h1></div> - -<p class='pindent'>A halt was called at noon, and Denise, who had walked -for four long hours, felt that hopeless weariness that -yearns only for some corner where the body may lie -relaxed. Her feet were burning, and she and Marpasse -had been trudging in the dust made by the horses, dust -that had clogged the air, and made the eyes tingle. -Denise was glad to throw herself on the grass beside -Marpasse, who was much less weary, being tougher, -and more used to the road.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Marpasse was very wide awake. She looked narrowly -at Denise, and rolled to the side on one elbow so as to -be nearer.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“We have our chance now, are you strong enough?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Denise’s dull eyes brightened, and she moistened her -lips with her tongue.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“If we only had water! What can we do—here, -Marpasse, with the men all round us?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Marpasse gave her the stone bottle of wine that -Gaillard had sent them that morning.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Drink,” she said in a loud voice, “nothing like -wine on a dusty road. Heigh-ho, I shall soon be sleepy,” -and she rolled on her back so that she touched Denise, -and stretched her arms and yawned.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Listen,” she said in a whisper, “there is that wood -yonder, I have my plan,” and she went on speaking -softly to Denise, and still stretching and yawning as -though there was nothing hazardous to be considered.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>It was plodding along an endless road, with aching -feet, and gloom in her heart, that had made Denise’s -courage droop for the moment. Above all it was the -hopelessness that had tired her. Marpasse’s words were -as warm and as heartening as strong wine. The spark fell -on the tinder and red life began to run again through -Denise’s being.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I am strong enough, Marpasse.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Marpasse seized her hand, and pretended to bite it, -like a dog at play.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Don’t look red and eager, my dear. Limp, as -though you had worn your feet to the bone. Now, good -St. George, bless all fools!”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Marpasse jumped up, and crossed the road to where -the two men-at-arms who had charge of them were -making a meal. She spoke to them jauntily, her hands on -her hips, her brown face insolent and laughing, her eyes -unabashed. The men laughed in turn, and nodded. -Marpasse recrossed the road, held out a hand to Denise, -and pulled her roughly to her feet. Marpasse put an -arm about Denise, and Denise, prompted by her comrade, -limped as she walked, and leant her weight upon Marpasse.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Fifty yards from the road was a patch of scrub that -jutted out like a pointed beard from the broad chin of -an oak wood. Marpasse and Denise went slowly towards -the trees, thinking each moment that they would hear -some voice calling them back roughly to the road. Marpasse -felt Denise straining forward instinctively upon -her arm. She was breathing rapidly like one in a -fever.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>They reached the scrub, and skirting it, came to the -ditch that bounded the wood. Marpasse still kept her -arm about Denise.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Gently, sister, gently; it would be a shame to -spoil everything by bolting like a hare. Be sure, our -friends behind are watching us.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Marpasse turned her head to look.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Curses!” and the strain of the moment showed -in her impatience, “one of the fools is strolling after us. -We cannot go far with only our shadows for company. -Over! No muddy shoes this time.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>They were across the ditch, and on the edge of the -wood, Marpasse still holding Denise as they went in amid -the trees. She kept looking back till the open land and -the sky were shut out by the dense lattice work of the -boughs. The men had not followed them across the -ditch, and Marpasse blessed their luck when she saw that -the underwood had been cut that winter so that it would -be quicker running between the stubs. Only the dead -leaves troubled Marpasse, rustling and crackling under -their feet.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Now for it, run, run!”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>She let go of Denise, and they gathered up their -skirts and started off, scudding between the tree boles, -never stopping to look back. Denise did not feel her -feet under her. The brown leaves, the coarse grass, -and the wild flowers were like so much water over which -she seemed to skim, yet not so swiftly as her fear fled. -She was quicker than Marpasse, because her passion to -escape burnt at a greater heat. Marpasse had torn -her skirt on a stub and was panting when they came to -the farther edge of the wood.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>They paused a moment, and stood listening, and -could hear the confused hum of the host like the humming -of bees. A meadow lay before them, bounded by a -second wood that towered up the steep slope of a hill. -Against the blue a lark hung with quivering wings, and -quivering song. As they stood listening a shout rose -in the deeps of the wood behind them. Denise was off -like a deer, her whole soul quivering like the wings -of the lark overhead. Marpasse stayed a second to -pull up a stocking that had slipped to her ankle, and -then ran on after Denise across the meadow.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>They were close to the outstanding trees of the second -wood, when Denise looked back and saw that they were -followed. The two men-at-arms who had had the guarding -of them had been too shrewd to go beating through -the trees on foot when they had begun to suspect Marpasse -of playing a trick on them. They had mounted their -horses, and ridden different ways so as to circle the wood -and gain a view of the two vixens when they took to the -open.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Marpasse cursed them for their pains.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Another minute, and we should have been out of -sight,” she said; “we may yet trick them in the -wood.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>They kept together now, labouring uphill with faces -that began to betray distress. Marpasse had a stitch -in her side, her stockings were at her ankles, and her -hair over her shoulders. They could hear the men -shouting, but paid no heed to it, for if there were but -thicker cover on the other side of the hill, they might -take to it and escape.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>As they topped the slope they heard the trampling -of horses in the valley behind them. Marpasse looked -eagerly to right and left, and an angry cry escaped her, -for a wood of great forest trees dipped gently away -from them, the trunks pillaring broad aisles that were -carpeted with sleek and brilliant sward. A man could -see through the wood as though looking along the aisles -of a church, where children could do no more than play -hide-and-seek round the piers and pillars.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“No luck for us! They can ride us down here almost -as well as in a meadow.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Denise caught Marpasse’s arm.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“The knife, Marpasse; give it me.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Marpasse was panting, one hand at her side.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“No, no, not that, my dear!”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I will not be taken alive, Marpasse. Give me the -knife, and run. They will not trouble you when they -find me here.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Marpasse drew Denise behind the trunk of a great -tree, for she had seen a helmet come up over the edge -of the hill, to be followed by the tossing mane of a horse.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Marpasse took Denise in her arms.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“My sister,” and she was greatly moved, “take it -not to heart. In a week, or a month, it may seem different.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>But Denise was in earnest as her white face showed.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“No, no, Marpasse, I cannot. Give me the knife.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Marpasse fumbled for it, great passionate tears -rushing to her eyes. Had she not once passed through -the same pain, and shirked the crisis, only to become a -stroller and a courtesan! Denise had a more sensitive -surface, a deeper courage. Yet Marpasse’s heart cried -out against the thing.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The two men were close upon them now, riding slowly -and at some distance from one another so that the two -women should not play hide and seek behind the trees. -Marpasse turned her head away as she gave Denise the -knife.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“My sister, am I wrong in this?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Denise caught her, and kissed her on the mouth.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Truest of friends, go, now. It will not be so hard -to end it, for I am very tired.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Marpasse broke away with a spasm of the throat. -The thought seized her suddenly that by running she -might draw the men away from Denise. Yet she had -not gone three steps before her wet eyes saw something -that made her start, and then stand like a deer at gaze.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>What Marpasse saw was a knight on a black horse -riding up furiously through the wood. He was bending -low in the saddle behind his shield, with spear feutered, -and the steel mass of his great helmet flashing in the -sunlight that sifted through the trees. His horse seemed -to gallop almost silently over the soft turf. Yet he came -on like the wind, and with no doubtful intent.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Marpasse whipped round, and ran back to Denise.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Not death yet,” she said, “nor the devil either, -pray God.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>There was the thud of hoofs on the soft turf of the -woodland rides, and the two women saw the man on -the black horse go by at the gallop, bending low -behind his shield. Marpasse stood out to watch him, -her mouth wide open as though howling a blessing. -She saw one of Gaillard’s men kicking his heels into -his horse’s flanks as though to gather speed against -the shock of that feutered spear. The knight on the -black horse was on him before the fellow could gain -much ground. Marpasse saw a spear break in the middle, -and a body go twisting over the grass like a bird with an -arrow through it, while the dead man’s horse went off -at a canter.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Marpasse caught Denise by the hand, and drew her -from behind the tree.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Glory of God, my dear,” and her eyes glistened, -but not with tears, “Lord, how I love a lusty fighter. -Here is a man who can strike a blow. And here are we -like damoiselles in a French romance, my dear. Save -us, Sir Launcelot, or Sir Tristan of Lyonnesse, whatever -your name may be! La, I could kiss you for being so -lusty!”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The second of Gaillard’s men had ridden in to help -his comrade. Swords were out, and sweeping in gyres -of light under the boughs of the oak trees. But he of -the black horse set about Gaillard’s man as though he -were thrashing corn. There was only one sword at -work so far as the issue was concerned.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Denise looked on with dull eyes, and feverish face. -It was like a violent dream to her, those struggling -figures, and the body lying there thrust through with -the broken spear. Marpasse was dancing from foot to -foot, her brown face flushed, her eyes flashing.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>She threw up her arms, and shouted in triumph.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“He has it, he has it, in the throat. Oh, brave blow! -Would I were a man, and that I had an arm like that!”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The man on the black horse had beaten Gaillard’s -fellow out of the saddle. He slid down his horse’s belly, -a dishevelled figure with limp arms and fallen sword. -One foot had caught in the stirrup, and the horse took -fright, and cantered off through the wood, dragging the -body after it.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The knight watched the body go sliding over the grass, -tossing its arms as though in grotesque terror. He turned -his horse, and rode back slowly towards the two women, -and they saw that he carried a hawk’s claw in gold upon -a sable shield. His surcoat was a dull green, a colour -that was not too crude and conspicuous for forest tracks. -The great helmet, with its eye cleft in the shape of a cross, -hid his face completely.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Marpasse, impetuous wench, ran forward and kissed -the black muzzle of his horse.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Lording, good luck to you,” and her blue eyes -laughed in her brown face, “never were distressed damsels -in greater need. King Arthur’s gentlemen were never -more welcome.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The man did not look at Marpasse, but at Denise. -She was leaning against the tree trunk, her hair hanging -about her shoulders like red light, her face a dead white -by contrast. Her brown eyes had a feverish look, and -she still held Marpasse’s knife in her right hand.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The man on the black horse waved Marpasse aside -with his sword. And there was something about the -silent, massive figure with its iron mask that made -Marpasse move back.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Go yonder, and watch,” he said, pointing towards -the outskirts of the wood.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“But, lording——?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Go. Is my blood the blood of that dead thing -yonder!”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>And Marpasse, who had obeyed very few people in -her life, obeyed him without a word.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>When she had gone the man put his sword up into -its scabbard, dismounted, and stood holding the bridle -of his horse. Denise’s eyes were fixed upon the helmet -with its shadowy cleft in the shape of a cross. The man -saw her bosom rising and falling, and that her eyes were -troubled. Marpasse’s knife was half hidden by the grey -folds of her gown.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The man put both hands to the helmet, lifted it, -and let it fall upon the grass. And it was Aymery whom -Denise saw.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>She looked at him with wide, eloquent, and frightened -eyes, a rush of colour crimsoning her face, for Denise -remembered the Aymery of Reigate Town, the stern-faced -captain hounding Gaillard into the night. And -all the shame and ignominy that she had suffered seemed -to fall and break upon her head. She stood speechless, -her eyes looking at him like the eyes of one who expects -a blow.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Denise!”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>He held out his hands to her, but she covered her -face, and leant against the trunk of the tree. Yet she -did not weep or make any sound. It was a dry, frozen -anguish with her that could neither move nor speak. -Aymery watched her as a man might watch one in bitter -pain, knowing not what to do to help or comfort.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Denise!”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Perhaps the pity in his voice stung her. God, that -it should have come to this, for she had read the truth -upon his face. Denise raised her head, and their eyes -met. Her mouth was quivering, but she looked at Aymery -as though challenging the whole world in that one man. -Perhaps Denise could not have told what made her do -the thing she did. The fever of fatalism was in her blood, -and Marpasse’s knife was in her hand. And Aymery, -stupefied, watched the red stain start out against the -grey cloth of her gown.</p> - -<div><h1 class='nobreak'>CHAPTER XXXI</h1></div> - -<p class='pindent'>Denise slipped slowly to her knees, still leaning the -weight of her body against the trunk of the tree. The -languor of death seemed upon her, but her eyes could -still meet Aymery’s, brown eyes swimming with the -death mist, and growing blind to the sunlight. The -man’s shocked face, and his outstretched hands were -the last things that she remembered.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Lord, it is better so.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Her head drooped, her hair falling about her face. -The long lashes flickered over the eyes like the flickering -light of a taper before it dies in the darkness. Aymery -dropped on his knees beside her. He was awed, shaken -to the deeps, a man who looked upon the face of -death, and knew that the great silence was falling -upon the mouth of the woman whom he had kissed in -dreams.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Denise.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>He took her into his arms, for there was no power -to gainsay him, and death, dread lord, still watched -and waited. They were heart to heart for the moment, -though life was melting within the span of the man’s -arms. Denise opened her eyes once, and smiled, but it -was the ghost of a smile that Aymery had.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Denise!”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>His mouth was close to hers.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Lord, it is the end; do not judge me hardly.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Denise, my desire, am I here to judge?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“It was Gaillard’s doing,” she said, “and God -deserted me. I am very tired, so tired. Now, I am -falling asleep.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>She gave a great sigh, and let her head lie upon his -shoulder, her skin growing more white under the clouding -of her hair. Aymery felt her hands grow cold as he -knelt there looking at her in a stupor of awe, and wrath, -and rebellious wonder. He believed that Denise would -open her eyes no more, that the eternal silence was -falling upon her mouth. This was death indeed, death -that found him inarticulate and helpless.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>He let her lie there upon the grass with her head -resting upon a mossy root of the tree, and turned to call -Marpasse back through the wood. And Marpasse came -running, to stare at the deed her knife had done, and -then to fall on her knees with a kind of blubbering fierceness, -that was combative in its grief. She laid her hand -on Denise’s bosom, and bent over her till her mouth -nearly touched the silent lips. But Denise still breathed, -and Marpasse sat back on her heels and began to unlace -Denise’s tunic.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Aymery was standing by, looking down at them as -though stunned. His helplessness maddened Marpasse, -and she turned and stung him.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Fool, will you let her bleed to death?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>She had laid bare the wound in Denise’s bosom, a -narrow mouth from which the red life was ebbing -slowly.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Fool! Have you such things as hands? For -God’s love, something to staunch the flow!”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Her words were like cold water dashed into his -face. Aymery ripped his surcoat, tore a great piece -away, folded it, and gave the pad to Marpasse. She -pressed it to the wound with one hand, and with the -other beckoned Aymery to take her place.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Shall we give in without a fight?” she said, “you -are better with a sword than with a sponge, lording. I -have some linen on me, though it might have come -white out of the wash.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>She turned up her blue gown, and tore strips from -the shift beneath.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Blood stops blood, they say,” and she ran back -between the trees to where the dead man lay with the -spear through him. The stuff and her hands were red -when she returned.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Lift the pad, lording.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>He obeyed her, and she pressed some of the linen -into the wound.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“A bandage, what shall we do for a bandage?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Aymery tore his surcoat into strips, and knotting them -together, he gave the end to Marpasse.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Raise her, gently, gently, my man.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>While Aymery held Denise limp and still warm, with -her head and her hair upon his hauberk, Marpasse wound -and rewound the bandage about her body, drawing the -swathings as tightly as she could.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>When she had ended it, she put her mouth to Denise’s -mouth, and felt the white throat with her fingers.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Life yet,” she said.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Then she and Aymery looked into each other’s eyes.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“What next?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>That was what they asked each other.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Now Marpasse knew the country in those parts, -having lived near at one time in the house of a lord’s -verderer, and gone a-hawking, and a-hunting in the -woods. When she and Denise had started on their -flight from Gaillard and the King’s army, Marpasse -had had a certain house of Sempringham nuns in her -mind’s eye. It was a little convent hid in a valley, -aloof from the world, and very peaceful. Marpasse told -Aymery of the place. They could carry Denise there, -a forlorn venture, for both felt that she would die upon -the road.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“The Prioress is named Ursula,” said Marpasse, -“and she is a good woman, though that may be worth -little. They may know something of leech-craft.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Aymery mounted his horse, and Marpasse lifted -Denise, and gave her into the man’s arms.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“While the torch flickers there is light, lording,” -she said; “God grant that she may not die on the way.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>They set off through the April woods, Aymery with -Denise lying in his arms, Marpasse walking beside the -horse, a Marpasse who was solemn and pensive, and -unlike her ribald self. Aymery hardly glanced at the -woman who walked beside the horse, for his whole soul -was with Denise, Denise so white and silent, with the -death shadows under her eyes. Her hair lay tossed in -a shining mass over Aymery’s neck and shoulder, and -he held her very gently as though afraid of stifling those -feebly drawn breaths. Sometimes he spoke to his horse, -and the beast went very softly as though understanding -Denise’s need.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>They came out of the wood and found themselves -on the edge of a valley, a green trough threaded by a -stream running between meadows. Marpasse stood -looking about her for some familiar tree or field or the -outline of a hill. They saw smoke rising in a blue column -from a stone chimney behind a knoll of trees. Marpasse’s -eyes brightened. They had stumbled on the very place -that she sought.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“The luck is with us, lording,” she said, “I will -come with you as far as the gate. But a devil’s child -may not set foot on so godly and proper a threshold.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>She spoke a little scornfully, and Aymery looked -down at Marpasse as though he had hardly noticed her -before. She had been a mere something that had -moved, and exclaimed, and acted. Of a sudden he -seemed to touch the humanism and the woman in -her.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>He bent over Denise, and then looked again at Marpasse.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“She is yet alive. How did you two come together?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Marpasse had not discovered yet why Denise had -used the knife, though Aymery had saved her from -Gaillard’s men. But Marpasse had her suspicions.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“We met on the road, lording, where we wastrels -drift. She was not one of us. No. She told me her -whole story. That was last night outside Guildford -Town.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Aymery’s eyes were on the priory beneath them -amid its meadows. He kept silence awhile, and when -he spoke he did not look at Marpasse.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Part of the tale I know,” he said, “and God forgive -me, I had an innocent share in it.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>His eyes were on Denise’s face again, and he smiled -as a man smiles with bitter tenderness at death.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Tell me what you know.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Marpasse plodded along, staring at the grass. And -presently she had told Aymery all that Denise had told -her, and told it with the blunt pathos of a rough woman -telling the truth.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>They were nearing the convent now with its grey -walls and trees, its barns and outhouses with their dark -hoods of thatch. Aymery’s face was grim and thoughtful. -He touched Denise’s hair with his lips, and Marpasse -saw the kiss and, being a woman, she understood.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“The devil snatched at her lording,” she said, “but -God knows that she was not the devil’s, either in heart -or in body.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Aymery rode on with bowed head. He was thinking -of Gaillard, and how he would follow that man to the -end of the world, and kill him for the death he had brought -upon Denise.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>They came to the convent, and Marpasse sat down -on a rough bench outside the gate. The portress was -waiting there, a very old woman with a dry, wrinkled -face, a harsh voice, and grey hairs on her chin. She screwed -up her eyes at the knight, and at the burden that he -carried in his arms. Aymery was blunt and speedy -with her, a man not to be gainsaid.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Peace to you,” he said, “soul and body are hurt -here. Go and tell your Prioress that we are in need.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>He rode into the court, though a most sensitive -etiquette might have forbidden an armed man to ride -into such a place. The portress went her way with a -hobbling excitement that was very worldly. Presently -Ursula the Prioress came out, and two nuns with her -and since Aymery held out Denise to the women they -could not let him drop her upon the stones.</p> - -<div><h1 class='nobreak'>CHAPTER XXXII</h1></div> - -<p class='pindent'>Ursula the Prioress was a prim woman, a woman with -a long, thin face, and a small mouth. She had no knowledge -of life, but being very devout and religious, her -devotion and her religiosity made her conceive infallibility -within herself.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Ursula had seen nothing more in Denise than a young -woman with gorgeous hair, a deathly face, and blood -upon her bosom, and Ursula’s nostrils had caught a -rank flavour of godlessness from the affair. The woman -had stabbed herself or been stabbed. She was probably -nothing more than a common courtesan, for Ursula had -a vague knowledge that the sisterhood of Rahab still -existed. And like many religious women, Ursula -was very sure of her own cleanliness, and very suspicious -of the cleanliness of others.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The woman could not be left to die, there was her -“state of sin” to be remembered; yet Ursula was -conscious of great graciousness in suffering Denise to be -carried within her doors. Then there was the knight -to be dealt with, and the Prioress who knew nothing of -men, minced before Aymery with prim haughtiness, -folding her hands over her lean body, giving him to -understand that it was no concern of hers to please him. -Aymery, in the deeps and on the heights in one and the -same hour, and stricken to the inmost humanism of -his soul, had no eyes for Ursula’s prinnickings and -prancings. He was in the throes of a tragedy, a -strong and impassioned man whose thoughts and -desires moved with the headlong naturalness of a stream -in flood.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Ursula, half eager to be rid of the man, and yet -equally curious, and prying, received him, under a hinted -protest, in her Prioress’ parlour. To be sure, she had -a couple of nuns outside the door, but some of her prejudicial -tartness vanished when she heard the name of -Simon the Earl. Even the pinpoint of the Prioress’ -womanliness caught the gleam of Aymery’s intensity -that burnt at a white heat. She showed herself old-maidishly -ready to hear the truth about Denise, since -a knight trusted by Earl Simon could not be wholly a -dissolute rogue.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Aymery made a mistake that day, a mistake that -many a generous and impassioned man has made. Here -was a devout woman, a mother of souls, and Aymery -took her for what her religion should have made her. -Denise, poor child, with the flicker of life still in her, -was to be laid to rest in Ursula’s lap. No woman could -withhold pity in such a case, and Aymery told Ursula -some part of Denise’s tale, not seeing that he was throwing -a rose into a pot of sour wine.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The Prioress’ starched figure looked lean and stiff. -She was interested, but, dear St. Agnes!—greatly shocked. -Aymery’s words fell on an ass’s hide like blows on an -empty drum. The drum resounded, made some godly -stir, but held nothing more than air.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Aymery had money in his purse. It was not much, -but Ursula was a woman whose skin had the colour of -gold. She took the money, and his promises of a bequest -should the people’s cause prosper, thinking it easily -earned by burying a lost woman and putting up prayers -for her soul. Ursula would have prayed religiously. -She was perfectly sincere in her own corner of the world.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“God give rest to all sinners,” she said sententiously, -“we will do what we can for the girl. It is a pity that -she should not have been shrived.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Aymery’s face would have made Marpasse weep. -It had no meaning for Madame Ursula.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I would see her, before I go,” he said.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>And his heart added:</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Perhaps for the last time.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Ursula’s sympathy was purely perfunctory. They -had carried Denise into the little infirmary, and laid her -upon a bed. She still breathed, and two of the nuns -who had some knowledge of leech-craft, had unwound -the swathings, but feared to touch the pad that Marpasse -had forced into the wound. They had poured oil and -a decoction of astringent herbs thereon, wiped the blood-stains -from the bosom, and swathed Denise in clean linen. -Then they had given her into the hands of the saints, -and sat down to watch, whispering to each other across -the bed.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The slant of the late sunshine came into the room -when Aymery entered at the trail of Ursula’s gown. -The sunlight struck upon the bed where Denise lay -white as a lily with the glory of her hair shining like -molten gold. And to Aymery it seemed that she smiled -sadly like one dreaming the end of some sad dream.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Ursula’s starched wimple creaked in the still room. -She stood looking down from a pinnacle of righteousness; -the two nuns rose and went to the window, taking care -to see all that passed.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Their bodies shut off the sunlight from Denise’s -face, and threw it into shadow. Aymery was standing -beside the bed. The two nuns glanced at one another, -and were ready to titter when he knelt down in his battle -harness as though praying, or taking some vow.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Before he rose he touched one of Denise’s hands, -and it was as cold as snow when he laid it against his lips. -Ursula made a sharp sound in her throat. Such happenings -were not discreet before women who were celibates.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Aymery rose and, looking at none of them, marched -to the door.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“If she lives,” he would have said, “be kind to her -until I can return.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>But death seemed to hover so close above Denise that -he went out in silence, putting all human hope aside.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Ursula followed him, debonair by reason of her -good birth, and superficially courteous after the habit -of such a gentlewoman. Would Aymery take wine -and meat? Aymery had the heart for neither, but -he remembered Marpasse. Ursula had his wallet filled -for him, and he took leave of her, finding little to say -to show his gratitude. The old portress had watered his -horse, and given the beast a few handfuls of corn.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>It was growing dusk when Aymery rode out of the -gate, and found Marpasse still sitting there on the bench. -The figure looked lonely, with a dejected droop of the -shoulders, and a hanging of the head. Marpasse’s -worldliness was down in the dust that evening.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>She got up from the bench and made Aymery a reverence. -A spirit of bitter mockery possessed her, for the -day’s tragedy had hurt Marpasse more than she would -confess.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Aymery reined in. He said nothing concerning -Denise, but held out the wallet that the nuns had filled -for him.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“There is food there. You must be hungry.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Marpasse’s eyes flashed up at him, and dropped into -a hard and sidelong stare. She took the wallet, and -stood biting her lower lip.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“How are things, yonder?” she blurted.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Aymery’s fingers twisted themselves into his horse’s -mane.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Still, a little breathing. They have put her to bed.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Marpasse nodded.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I have no great hope——”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“The devil will make sure of that,” said Marpasse; -“he loves a nunnery,” and she grimaced.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Aymery walked his horse along the track, but Marpasse -did not follow him. She stood there morosely, -biting her lip, and holding Aymery’s wallet in her hands. -He glanced back, and finding that she had not moved, -he reined in again and waited.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Marpasse came on slowly, one hand in the wallet, -her eyes on the grass. When she had rejoined Aymery -she stopped and stood unsolicitous and silent. The -man appeared to be considering something. Yet he -saw that the woman’s face was hard and gloomy in -the twilight.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“What are your plans?” he asked suddenly.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Marpasse stared.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“A ditch has often served me well enough, lording. -We strollers count for little.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>She laughed, fished a loaf out of the wallet, and -broke off a crust.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Do not trouble your head about me, lording,” -she said, “go your way. One pull at the bottle, and you -shall have your wallet back.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>She took out the flask, drank, and replaced it in the -leather bag.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Good-night to you, lording. We have our own -ways to go. Mine is a common track, and I know the -tread of my own shoes.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Aymery still held his horse in hand. He had something -to say to Marpasse, and the words did not come -to him easily. The woman was more human than -Ursula, and his heart went out to her because of Denise. -But before he had spoken twenty words, Marpasse broke -in with a rough and bitter laugh.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Lording,” said she, “you cannot make silk out of -sackcloth, however much you try. Go your way, I am -safe enough on the road. I have a bit of bread here, -and I shall sleep soundly under a bush. And to-morrow -and the next day, I shall be, just what I have been these -five years.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Aymery’s eyes were still troubled on her behalf. -Marpasse shook her hair, and shrugged her shoulders.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“The mule must carry its load, and be given the -stick if it kicks, or turns aside. Bah, I know what I am! -Denise, there, that was a piece of gold to be picked up -out of the dust. Go your way, lording, and do not waste -your words. I should only laugh in your face to-morrow, -and call you a fool.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>She sat down in the grass and began to eat her bread, -ignoring the man on the horse, as though that were the -surest way of answering him. There was nothing for -Aymery to do but to go, and leave Marpasse to her own -road.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“God’s speed, lording,” she said as he turned his -horse.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“God’s speed to you, sister.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Ah, that would be too slow for me, sir!” and her -laughter rang out with forced audacity.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>So the night came, and these two solitary ones took -up the strands of their several lives, strands that had -been tangled by the martyrdom of Denise. Earl Simon’s -trumpets called Aymery into the east, whither the King’s -host went marching with dust and din. No sword -could stay in the scabbard those days, and Aymery had -pledged his to Earl Simon, who needed every sword.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Marpasse had watched Aymery ride away into the -gathering darkness. She sat there in the grass, sullen, -brooding, yet touched by what he had said.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Bah!” said she, “what would be the use? Brave -heart, go your way, and God bless you, for being brave, -and honest. Wake up, fool! What, thick in the throat, -and ready to blubber like a sot in his cups! Marpasse, -my dear, you are a slut and a fool! This is what comes -of letting your heart run away with your heels. You -will be back to-morrow on the old devil-may-care road.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>But for all her self-scorn—Marpasse could not conjure -her own emotion. Her heart hurt her and was troubled, -nor could she sleep that night, though she huddled close -under the forlorn remnant of a haystack that she found -in a meadow. Marpasse felt alone, utterly alone in -the world, and conscious of the raw night and the darkness. -Who would have cared, she thought, if she had -used her knife as Denise had used it? Strangers would -have kicked her into a hole, and covered her with sods; -that would have been the end.</p> - -<div><h1 class='nobreak'>CHAPTER XXXIII</h1></div> - -<p class='pindent'>Rochester city had been stormed on the vigil of Good -Friday, but De Warenne still held the castle, and two -great Sussex lords, William de Braose of Bramber, and -John Fitzallan of Arundel were with him. They knew -that the King was on the march; nor was Earl Simon to -remain much longer before the walls, for Henry forced -him to raise the siege by threatening London with his -host. It was Waleran de Monceaux who brought the -news of the King’s march, and Aymery, who rode into -Rochester but a day behind his brother-in-arms, found -De Montfort preparing for a retreat. Their spears were -rolling on London when the next dawn came up behind -the great tower of the castle, for London was the heart -of England that year, and a sudden stab from the King’s -sword might have let the life-blood out of the cause.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Earl Simon and the Barons’ men marched through -Kent, and pushed in between the King’s host and the -city. The Londoners rang their bells, and came shouting -over the bridge to bring the Great Earl in. The burghers -had been busy since the rejection of King Louis’ award. -They had imprisoned some of the King’s creatures on -whom they had been able to lay their hands, and sacked -and devastated the royalist lands in Surrey and Kent. -The week before Palm Sunday the Jewry had been -stormed, its inmates massacred, and great treasure -taken. London had pledged itself in blood, and De -Montfort tarried there, waiting for men to gather to -him from the four quarters of the land.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>While the roads smoked with these marchings and -counter-marchings, and while spears shone on the hill-tops, -and steel trickled through the green, Denise cheated -death in that quiet valley amid the Surrey hills. Marpasse’s -knife had turned between the ribs, missed the -heart by the breadth of a finger nail, and let Denise’s -blood flow, but not her life. Marpasse’s rough sense -had saved her, Marpasse who had saved the body, while -Aymery had been busy with the soul. And yet to the -nuns Denise’s return out of the valley of the shadows had -seemed nothing short of a miracle. Ursula, true to her -belief, had seized the first glimmer of consciousness -and sent for the priest who served the convent as confessor. -But Denise had put the good man off, pleading -that she would not die, and that she was too weak to -tell him so long a tale.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The first few days Denise lay in her bed, very white -and very silent, taking the wine and food they brought -her, and speaking hardly a word. She was like one half -awakened from sleep, able to feel and think, but with -the languor of sleep still on her. She felt that it was -good to lie there in peace, aloof from the world, with -the quiet figures gliding in and out, and the sunlight -moving in a golden beam with the floor of the little room -for a dial. The ringing of the convent bells came to -her, and the singing of the nuns in the chapel. Denise -lay very still through the long hours in a haze of dreamy -thought.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>How much did she remember? Enough to inspire -her with a new desire to live, enough to make her realise -how mad had been the impulse that had set Marpasse’s -knife a-flashing. They seemed so far away, and yet so -near and intimate, those happenings in the April woodland. -In moments of deep passion the human heart -seizes on what is vital and utterly true, even as those -who are dying sometimes seem to see beyond the bounds -of the material earth. So Denise remembered that which -a woman’s heart would choose to cherish. It had been -no mere golden mist of pity glazing the cold truth. She -had lain in Aymery’s arms, arms that had held her with -something stronger than compassion.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Thus as Denise lay there abed, a slow, sweet faith -revived within her, a belief in things that had seemed dry -and dead. Her woman’s pride had been in the dust, -and she had given up hope, save the hope of hiding in -some far place. It might have been that Aymery’s arms -had closed an inward wound, and that the strength of -his manhood had given her new life.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>What had the “afterwards” been? What had -happened after she had lost consciousness, and what -had become of Aymery and Marpasse. She longed to -ask the nuns these things, and yet a sensitive pride tied -her tongue. The women were kind to her, and yet, as -Denise’s consciousness became more clear, she could not -but feel that the eyes that looked at her were inquisitive -and watchful. Now and again came a note of pitying -tolerance that jarred the rhythm of her more sacred -thoughts; and as the woman in her grew more wakeful -she became aware of the shadows that stole across her -mind.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>On the third day the nuns unswathed her body, soaked -the clotted pad away, and looked at the wound. It was -healing miraculously with nothing but a blush of redness -about its lips. There had been no fever, no inward -bleeding. Denise could sit up while they reswathed her -in clean linen.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“There is cause for thankfulness here,” said the -elder of the two nuns who had the nursing of her; “you -will have many prayers to say, and many candles to -burn to Our Lady and the Queen Helena, our Saint.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>She spoke with brisk patronage, but Denise took it -for the spirit of motherliness in the woman.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I owe you also a debt,” she said, looking up into -the nun’s face.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The sister licked her lips as she smoothed the linen -about Denise’s breast.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“The man and the horse are also to be remembered,” -she said, a little tartly, “you have much to be thankful -for; even I can tell you that.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>There was a sharpness in her voice, and a certain -insinuating and inquisitive look on her face that made -Denise colour. The woman was watching her out of the -corners of her eyes, as though she were quite ready to -listen if she could persuade Denise to talk. Minds that are -cooped up in sexless isolation are often afflicted with morbid -imaginings, and an unhealthy curiosity with regard -to the more human world. The monastic folk were prone -to a disease that they called “accidia.” The life was -very dull, very narrow, and led to introspection. What -wonder that a woman should sometimes hanker to dip -her spoon into the world’s pot, and smell the stew, though -she was not suffered to taste it.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Denise was thankful, and at peace, but she had no -desire to open her heart like a French tale for these -women to pore over. The nun won no confession from -her, and therefore thought the worse of Denise’s soul. -People who were silent had much to conceal, and the -religious sometimes prefer a vivid and garrulous sinner -to one who cherishes a reserve of pride.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The two nuns were but mead and water when compared -with their Prioress, who was sharp and biting -wine. The miraculous swiftness with which Denise -had been healed flattered St. Helena, and the piety of -her convent. Ursula the Prioress was an earnest woman, -cold, bigoted, well satisfied with her own spirit of inspiration. -She began to see in Denise a brand to be -snatched from the eternal fire, a soul to be humbled and -chastened, and purified of its sin.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>On the fifth day of Denise’s sojourn there, one of -the nuns bent over her, and told her in an impressive -whisper that the Prioress was coming to sit beside her -bed.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Be very meek with her, my dear,” said the nun, -“and if she speaks sharply to you, remember that it is -for the good of your soul.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>So Ursula came, white wimple about yellow face, -severe, admonitory, stooping very stiffly towards the -level of this mere woman. She sat down on the stool -beside Denise’s bed, and began at once to catechise her -as she would have catechised a forward child.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Denise went scarlet at the first question. It was -flashed upon her without delicacy that Ursula knew -her secret, and that either Aymery or Marpasse had told -her something of what they knew. And Denise’s pride -was not so frail and weak that she could suffer Ursula to -take her heart and handle it.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Madame,” she said, “I have much to thank you for. -Yet I would ask you not to speak of what is past. Being -wise in the matter, you will know what my thoughts -must be.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Ursula was not to be repulsed in such easy fashion, -for she knew a part of Denise’s tale, and had decided in -her own mind that Aymery had treated the subject with -too much chivalry. Compassion had softened the harsher -outlines, and Ursula had no doubt that Denise was less -innocent than she may have pretended.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“My daughter,” said she, “for the good of your -soul, I cannot let such things pass unheeded.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Denise lay motionless, staring at the timbers of the -roof. Ursula talked on.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Our Mother in Heaven knows that we are frail -creatures, and that sin is in the world, but it is the hiding -of sin that brings us into perdition. It is meet for your -penitence that I should speak to you of these infirmities. -There is no shame so great that it may not be retrieved. -But you must own your sin, my daughter, and humble -yourself before Heaven.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Denise’s hands moved restlessly over the coverlet.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I have confessed it,” she said, “though it was not -of my own seeking. God himself cannot condemn that -as a lie.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Ursula’s face grew more austere and forbidding. -She detected hardness and obstinacy in Denise, and -overlooked that sensitive pride that may seem reticent -and cold.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“You speak too boastfully,” she said. “It may -be that God wills it that I should bring you to humbleness -and a sense of shame.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“It is the truth, that I have suffered,” said Denise.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Not yet perhaps, have you suffered sufficiently, for -the proper chastening of the spirit. Think, girl, of God’s -great goodness, and the compassion of Our Mother, and -St. Helena, in snatching you from death, and the flames, -you—one who had fallen, a broken vessel by the roadside, -the companion of low women——”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Again Denise’s face flashed scarlet, but this time there -was anger in the colour.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Madame,” she said, “hard words do not bring us -into Heaven. I have never been what you would have -me pretend to be. And the woman, Marpasse, stood by -me, and was my friend. She has a good heart, and for -me, that covers a multitude of sins.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Ursula, cold fool, was instantly affronted.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“What!” and she seemed to smack her lips with -unction, “you, who have worn the scarlet, speak thus -insolently to me! It is plain that you have no sense of -shame. Hard words indeed are what you need, young -woman, the bread of bitterness and the waters of affliction. -Pity for your soul moves me to speak the -truth.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The flush had faded from Denise’s face. She lay -there very pale and still, as though suffering Ursula’s -harsh words to pass over her like the wind.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“How is it, madame,” she said at last, “that you -believe so much that is bad of me?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Ursula had her answer ready, the answer such a -woman was destined to produce.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Earl Simon’s knight warned me, as was but right -and honest.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Aymery!”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Sir Aymery, would be more fitting. It was he -who besought me to take you in, knowing your misery, -and the madness that sin must create in the mind. Pray -to God that he may be blessed for snatching you from -the devil, and for bringing you here, where, Heaven being -willing, we will humble and chasten you.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Denise lay there as though Ursula had taken Marpasse’s -knife and stricken her, this time to the heart. -She had nothing to say to the Prioress. The woman’s -hard morality had broken and bruised her re-born pride -and hope.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Ursula rose, and stood beside the bed.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Let the knowledge of sin and of humiliation sink -into your heart,” she said.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>And never did woman speak truer or more brutal -words.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>When Ursula had gone, Denise lay in a kind of -stupor, mute, wondering, like one who has been -wounded and knows not why. All her dreams were -in the dust. Ursula, the iconoclast, had broken the -frail images of tenderness, mystery, and compassion. -Aymery had said this of her? Denise had no strength -for the moment to believe it otherwise.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>And so she lay there, humiliated indeed, very lonely, -and without hope. There was no bitterness in her at -first, for the shock that had destroyed her vision of a -new world, had left her weak and weary. She thought -of Aymery with pitiful yearning and wounded wonder, -and with the wish that he had suffered her to die. Marpasse -alone might have comforted Denise in that hour -of her defeat.</p> - -<div><h1 class='nobreak'>CHAPTER XXXIV</h1></div> - -<p class='pindent'>Denise soon found that the frost of Ursula’s displeasure -had fallen on her, and that she was to be humiliated and -chilled into a proper state of penitence. The temper of -the nuns changed to her; they came and went without -speaking, their impassive faces making her feel like a -child that is in disgrace. It was Ursula’s wish that -Denise should be mortified in soul and body. Her food -and drink were water and bread, and lest the devil of -comfort should remain to tempt her to be obstinate, -they took the straw and sheets from the bed, and let -her lie upon the boards.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Moral frost at such a season was like a severe night -in the late spring. Denise’s need was to lie in the sun, -and to be smiled upon by kind eyes. It was the warm -humanism of life that she needed, sympathy, and a -clasp of the hand. The utter injustice of the humiliation -that they thrust upon her began to awake in her a spirit -of revolt. Had she not suffered because of her innocence, -and borne what these women had never had to bear?</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Why should she fall at Ursula’s feet, and pretend to -a penitence that she did not feel? And Aymery, too, -was she to believe that he had spoken as Ursula had -said? If that was the truth, and why should Ursula -lie, she, Denise, would pray that she should never be -driven to look upon his face again.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Yet her bodily strength increased despite her spiritual -unhappiness. The wound in the breast had healed, and -she had been able to leave her bed, and move slowly -round the room, steadying herself against the wall. -And as her strength increased the instinct of revolt grew -in her till she began to understand the mocking spirit -of Marpasse. To be reviled, humiliated, made to crawl -in the dust, to regain a little grudging respect by cringing -to her sister women, and by pretending to emotions that -she did not feel! These good souls seemed set upon -making the re-ascent to cleanliness hard and unlovely. -And Denise, like Marpasse, felt a passionate impatience -carrying her away.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Meanwhile Ursula, magnanimous lady, had taken -pains to spread Denise’s story through the convent, and -the two nuns who had nursed her had been women -enough to know that Denise had borne a child. Ursula -had issued her commands; the contumacious devil -was to be driven out of Denise; she was to be humbled, -and taught to pray for penitence and grace. The nuns -who served Denise now opened their mouths once more, -and became oracles whose inspiration had been caught -from Ursula’s lips.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>One would enter with the water-jar, set it under the -window, and retreat without so much as glancing at -Denise. She would pause at the door, and let fall some -pious platitude that might act like yeast upon the perverse -one’s apathy.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Flames of fire shall subdue those who are stubborn -in sin.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“While the vile flesh lives, the soul is in peril. Mortify -the body therefore, that the soul may be saved.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“A proud heart means death. Let your pride be -trampled under your feet.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Live, repent, and sin no more.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Such exhortations spaced out Denise’s day, but her -obstinacy and her bitterness of heart increased till she -was nauseated by their piety, and filled with a gradual -scorn. Twice Ursula visited her, to depart with the -impatience of one whose words were wasted. Had -Ursula suffered but once in life, it might have been so -humanly simple for her to understand Denise. On the -contrary, she found the victim less ductile than at first. -Nearly three weeks had passed, and Ursula decided that -the woman was well in body, but utterly diseased in -heart. The Prioress began to bethink herself of sharper -measures. Ursula believed that she had the devil in -arms against her, and that the battle was for Denise’s -soul.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>It was the night of May-day, the day of green boughs -and garlands, and Denise had stood at her window and -watched the sun go down, thinking of the May a year -ago, and of her cell in the beech wood above Goldspur -manor. The sun had set about an hour when Denise -heard footsteps in the gallery, and saw the light of a -lamp shining under the door. Ursula came in to the -dusk of the room, shielding the lamp from the draught -with the hollow of her hand. Her austere face was -hard and white, and from one wrist hung a scourge set -with burs of wire.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Ursula had brought two of her strongest nuns with -her. She set the lamp on a sconce, and was as abrupt -and practical as any pedagogue. She bade the women -close the door, and commanded Denise to strip and -stand naked for a scourging.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Since words will not move the evil spirit in you,” -she said, “we must try sharper measures.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Denise put her back against the wall.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Have a care how you touch me. I am not a dog -to be whipped.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Ursula told the two nuns to take her by force, and -to strip her of her clothes. But Denise was no longer -the patient saint bowing her head before her destiny. -She did what Marpasse would have done in such a storm, -and taking the water-jar that stood by her, held Ursula -and the nuns at bay.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Off!” she said, “I have some pride left in me. -I have eaten your bread, but I will not bear your blows.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>She was so tall and fierce, and untamable, that -Ursula was the more convinced that Denise had a devil -in her, and a devil that was not to be treated with disrespect. -She called the nuns off, not relishing an unseemly -scuffle, and having some reverence for a stone -water-pot that was not to be softened by formulæ. It -would be easier to catch Denise asleep, tie her wrists, -and scourge her till she showed some penitence.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Woman,” she said, “the evil spirit is very strong -in you. But God and my Saint helping me, I will subdue -it in due season.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>But Ursula, whose piety was given to stumbling -rather ridiculously over the hem of her own gown, had -no second chance of scourging the devil out of Denise. -For Denise had suffered St. Helena’s hospitality sufficiently, -and she made her escape that night after losing -herself in dark passage-ways and listening at doors which -she hardly dared to open. She made her way into the -court at last, and found the old portress sleeping in her -cell beside the gate. The key hung on a nail behind the -door, and Denise, who had brought a lighted taper that -she had found burning in the chapel, took the key and -let herself out into the night.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Denise had made her escape not long before dawn, -choosing the time when she knew that the nuns would -be in their cells between the chapel services. She waited -for the grey dusk of the coming day, sitting under an -oak tree on the hill above the convent. And when the -birds awoke and set the woodlands thrilling, Denise sat -counting the last of the money Abbot Reginald had -thrown down at her that winter night, and which Marpasse -had sewn up for her in her tunic. Denise thought of -Marpasse as she broke the threads and counted out -the money into her lap, for Marpasse seemed the one -human thing in the wide world that morning.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Life stirred everywhere when Denise started on -her way with half a loaf, some beggarly coins, and her -old clothes for worldly gear. Brown things darted and -rustled in the underwood and grass. A herd of deer -went by in the dimness of the dawn, and melted like -magic shapes into the woodland as the great globe of -fire came topping the eastern hills. The light fell on a -dewy world, a world of well-woven tapestry dyed with -diverse and rich colours. And Denise saw bluebells -in the woods, and thought again of Marpasse and her -blue gown. Marpasse would understand. She tried -not to think of Aymery that morning.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Denise struck a track that came from nowhere, and -led nowhere so far as she was concerned. She went on -aimlessly till noon, meeting a few peasant folk who took -her for a pilgrim or a beggar. And by noon her body -that had lain so many days in bed, cried loudly for a -truce under the May sun, and Denise, finding a pool by -the roadside, knelt down there and drank water from her -palms. The sun had dried the grass, and lying at full -length she was soon asleep, with the brown bread held -in one white hand.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The bank hid Denise from anyone who passed along -the road, and a knight on a black horse came by as she -slept. The sound of his horse’s hoofs woke Denise. -She raised herself upon one elbow, looked over the bank -to see who passed, and then sank down again out of -sight. The clatter of hoofs died in the distance, but -Denise lay there and stared at the clouds in the sky. -It was Aymery who had ridden past to hear from Ursula -of Denise’s life or death. But Denise let him go, hardening -her heart against the thought of any man’s pity. -She would not be beholden to Aymery after the words -that Ursula had spoken.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>So the Knight of the Hawk’s Claw came to the convent -that day in May, hardening himself against all possible -hope, and prepared to hear nothing but the tale of Denise’s -death. Ursula received him in her parlour, Ursula who -had set her final condemnation upon Denise because of -the perversity and ingratitude she had shown in escaping -like a thief in the night. And Ursula cursed Denise before -Aymery’s face, pouring out her indignation against the -woman, as though Aymery would sympathise with her -over Denise’s “contumacy and corruption.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Ursula had no eyes to see the change that had come -over the face of the man before her. She was so busy -with her denunciations that she did not mark the -wrath rising like a cloud on the horizon. Aymery’s -silence may have deceived her, for he heard her to -the end.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>He looked hard at Ursula, and the gleam in his eyes -would have made a less confident woman wince.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“So you thought that she needed scourging!”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Ursula was very dense that day, refusing to see what -a tangle she was weaving.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“The scourge is an excellent weapon, messire,” she -babbled, “my own back has borne it often, and to the -betterment of my soul. But this girl had no gratitude, -and no sense of shame. She was obstinately blind, -and would not see. I sought to move her by forcing -your compassion upon her, and showing her that it was -your desire that she should mend her life.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Aymery looked at Ursula as though tempted to strangle -the consequential voice in that thin, austere throat.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“You told her that, madame!”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I held her shame before her eyes, for the tale of her -innocence was not to be believed. Her whole character -contradicted it.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“And she has fled from you.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“With ingratitude, and cunning.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Before God, I do not blame her.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>He stood motionless a moment, looking down on -Ursula with such fierce contempt, that, like many stupid -people, she wondered how the offence had risen. Her -eyes dilated when Aymery drew his sword. Her mouth -opened to call the nuns who waited in the passage, but -his laugh reassured her, the laugh that a man bestows -on a thing beneath his strength.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Madame,” he said, “you have nothing to fear from -me but the truth. You see this sword of mine”—and -he held the hilt towards her, grasping it by the blade.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Ursula stared at him as a timid gentlewoman might -stare at a rat.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“That hilt is in the form of a cross, madame; I -would beg you to look at it. You may have heard that -the Cross has some significance for Christians.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Ursula began to recover her dignity. It was borne -in upon her suddenly that this man had stern eyes, and -an ironical, mocking mouth. And Ursula began to -dislike those eyes of his.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Your words are beyond me, messire,” and her -normal frostiness struggled to pervade the atmosphere.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Aymery looked at her as a man might look at something -that was very repulsive and very ugly.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Madame,” he said quietly, “if you have slain a soul, -God forgive you; there are so many fools in the world, -and so many of them are godly. There was no sin in -Denise that called for the sponge full of vinegar, the -scourge, and the spear.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Ursula opened her mouth, but no sound came. -Aymery put up his sword, and turned towards the door.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I would rather have left her,” he said, “in the -hands of the woman you have called an harlot. Nor -need your zeal have put lies into my mouth. Suffer me, -madame, to recommend you a saint. St. Magdalene -might give you the religion that you lack.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>And he went out from her, leaving Ursula speechless, -and amazed at his insolence.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Yet Aymery’s wrath was a greater and nobler wrath -than Ursula’s as he mounted his horse and rode out into -the world, that world for which Christ had bled upon the -cross. Bitterly plain to him was Denise’s spirit of revolt, -and her passionate discontent with Ursula’s morality. -What was more, this woman had put her taunts and her -homilies into his mouth, and made him harangue and -edify Denise! Aymery cursed Ursula for a meddlesome, -cold, and self-righteous fool. He would rather have -left Denise in Marpasse’s hands, for Marpasse had a heart, -and no belief in her own great godliness.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>And Denise, what would befall her now that they -had driven her like an outcast into the world? He -was gloomy and troubled because of her, feeling that she -had been wounded the more deeply than she had ever -been wounded by Marpasse’s knife. He remembered -too how Denise had sought death in the woods that day. -The impulse now might be more powerful, seeing that -she had suffered more, and had no friend.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Ride after her into the blind chance of the unknown -he could not yet, for Aymery was pledged to Earl Simon -and his brethren-in-arms. The Barons’ host had gathered -at London; they were on the eve of marching southwards -into Sussex, for the King was threatening the Cinque -Port towns which were loyal to Earl Simon. Aymery -had seized these two days to ride and discover the truth -about Denise. His knighthood was pledged to the -man who had knighted him, nor could he break the pledge -to chase a wandering shadow.</p> - -<div><h1 class='nobreak'>CHAPTER XXXV</h1></div> - -<p class='pindent'>Marpasse of the blue gown had fallen in with old friends -on the way to Tonbridge, where the King had taken the -castle of Gilbert de Clare, and these same friends, ragamuffins -all of them, were following the glittering chaos -of the King’s host on the road to the sea. There would -be plunder to be had if St. Nicholas would only persuade -King Henry to take and sack the Cinque Port towns; -and all the beggars, cut-throats and strollers in the kingdom -rolled in the wash of the King’s host, terribly joyful -over the happenings that might give them bones to -pick.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The passing of fifty thousand armed men, to say -nothing of the baggage rabble, was no blessing to the -country folk whom it concerned. Lords, knights, men-at-arms, -bowmen, scullions, horse-boys, and harlots -went pouring southwards in the May sunshine, ready to -thieve whatever came to hand. King Paunch ruled the -multitude, for the host ate up the land, and called like -a hungry rookery “more, more!” And since a hungry -mob is an ill-tempered one when once its patience has -leaked out of its tired toes, the King’s followers began to -grow very rough and cruel before they had marched -five leagues. Hunger does not stand on ceremony, and -such brutal things were done that the country folk took -to the woods and swore death to any straggler. Bludgeon, -and axe, and bow took toll of the King’s host, and many -a rowdy was caught and left grinning at the heavens, -with his stiff toes in the air.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Now Marpasse and her friends were as hungry as -the rest, and coming as they did, like fowls late for feeding -time, their genius for theft was developed by necessity. -Yet it is not so easy to steal when everything eatable has -been stolen, and when a crossbow bolt may come burring -from behind a wood-stack. None the less, Marpasse and -her company were in luck not ten miles from Tonbridge -Town. They saw a sow feeding on the edge of a beech -wood close to the road. There was much pannage in the -neighbourhood, and Marpasse and her comrades tucked -up their skirts, and went a-hunting, and were blessed -with the sight of the black backs of a whole drove of -swine.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Great and grotesque was the joy that hounded and -hunted through the beech wood, a mob of men-at-arms, -beggars, boys, and women trampling the bluebells and -the brown and crackling bracken. They shouted, laughed, -and cursed as they rounded up the swine, and chased them -hither and thither amid the trees. God Pan and his -minions went tumbling over tree roots after the black -beasts that bolted, and squealed, and flickered like -grotesque shadows under the boughs of the beeches.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Marpasse, her skirts tucked up, and her knife flashing, -shouted and ran with the lustiest till the sweat rolled -into her eyes. As she stood to get her breath, a fat sow -came labouring by with a young pig close to her haunches. -Chasing them came a long, loose-limbed boy, his hair -over his face, his mouth a-gape, his thin legs bounding, -striding, and ripping through the bracken. He came up -with the chase close to Marpasse, and threw himself on -the young porker as a leopard might leap upon a deer. -Brown boy and black hog rolled in a tangle into a clump -of rotting bracken, and Marpasse, holding her sides, -laughed at the tussle, and then ran on after the sow.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The sow, grunting and labouring, led Marpasse away -from the rout, and back towards the road. Marpasse, -intent on bringing the dame to book for supper, ran on -till she came suddenly into a glade with a slant of sunshine -pouring through it, and the open land and the -road showing at one end thereof. Marpasse followed -the sow no farther, for she had stumbled on another -adventure that showed more importunity.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Marpasse saw a woman in grey leaning against the -trunk of a tree. Not ten paces from her stood an old -black boar, with the broken shaft of a spear protruding -from one shoulder, and a broad trickle of blood running -down his left fore-leg into the grass. The beast tottered -as he stood, swinging his head from side to side, his little -eyes malevolent, his wiry tail twisting with savage spite.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Marpasse gave a whistle, and looked like one who -has run against a ghost. She saw the boar make a dash -at Denise, Denise, who was playing hide-and-seek for -her life with him round the tree. The beast missed her, -and came to earth, only to struggle up, lurch round, and -charge once more.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Marpasse clutched her knife, and made a dash for -the tree. The boar had missed his blow again, and stood, -resting, still dangerous despite the spear head in his side. -Marpasse gained the tree with its roots clawing the soil. -She gasped out a few words to Denise like a breathless -swimmer joining a comrade on a rock in the thick of a -boiling sea.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“May marvels never cease! You, child, you, as I -shall live to kill pigs! Lord, now, keep an eye on this -limb of a black satan!”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>She peered round the tree trunk, and pushed Denise -round it as the boar charged again, white tusks showing, -snout bloody, his little eyes like two live coals. He -swerved and missed Marpasse, but she was on him before -he could recover and turn. The knife went home where -six inches of steel might reach the heart, and Marpasse, -springing aside to escape the mad side slash of the tusks, -saw that the gentleman had the <span class='it'>coup de grâce</span>. He rolled -over, struggled up again on his belly, scraped the earth -with his fore trotters, and then wallowed amid the beech -leaves. Marpasse sat down at the foot of the tree, -panting and laughing, her brown face red and healthy. -She threw the knife aside, caught Denise by the skirt, -and pulled her down lovingly into her lap.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“God alive,” she gasped, “what a girl it is! Am I -always to be rescuing you from Gascons, and from -pigs?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Marpasse was quite joyous. She kissed Denise on -the mouth, and then held her away from her, and looked -at her with blue eyes that shone.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Heart of mine, is it you in the flesh, my dear? -Why, we left you for dead, Sir Aymery and I! And -mightily gloomy he was too, poor lording. To think of -it, that I should fall on you in the middle of a wood, -while I was chasing an old sow!”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Though she was very voluble, Marpasse’s eyes were -scanning Denise as one looks at a friend after a long -sickness. Marpasse’s eyes were very quick. She could -have told the number of wrinkles on Denise’s face, had -there been any. But Marpasse saw something there -much more sinister than wrinkles.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Well, sister,” said she, “here is indeed a miracle. -But I am not so strong as the lord on the black horse, -so please to sit on the grass and let me get my breath. -Now for the story. How did St. Helena and all the saints -heal you, and how do you come to be here?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Denise slipped aside from Marpasse, and sat down -at the foot of the tree. It was a hard, brooding look -about her eyes that had struck Marpasse. Things had -not gone with pious facility. Marpasse could tell that -by Denise’s silence, and by the half-sullen expression -of her face.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Your knife turned between my ribs, Marpasse,” -she said, “I was a fool to bungle so easy a stroke; I had -only to lie still, eat and sleep.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Marpasse clapped her hands.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“This is gratitude, and I swaddled you up like a -baby! How is it that you are not still lying abed, and -eating and sleeping? You look thin, eh, and what does -Sir Black Horse know about it all? Lord, but what -a lot of running away you have done in your life! So -you fell out with the pious folk, was that it? I could -never abide the smell of a nun.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>She pinched Denise’s cheek, watching her narrowly, -for Marpasse had learnt to use her wits, and the philosophy -that she had learnt upon the road.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Well, my dear, what happened?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I ran away.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“What a soldier you would make! Madame Ursula -was too good a woman. They are all too good for us, -my dear; that is where the mischief comes, they tread -on us, and expect us to be meek and grateful.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Marpasse grew serious and intent. She looked -steadily at Denise, and then reached out and caught -her hands.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“No more jesting,” she said, “look in my face, -sister. I have learnt to read a face.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>She held both Denise’s hands, and drew her a little -towards her. For a moment they were silent. Then -Marpasse pressed Denise’s hands, sighed, and allowed -herself a bluff round oath.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Curse them,” she said, “curse their godliness. So -you told them the whole tale.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Denise hung her head.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Messire Aymery told Ursula.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“The fool! Too much in love to be wise, I warrant. -Come now, my dear, love is great of heart, but love is -blind, and love talks when it should shut its mouth. -Show me the way out of the wood.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>She drew Denise close to her, so that her head was -on her shoulder. Yet for the moment Denise seemed -cold and mute. Marpasse kissed her on the mouth, and -the one woman’s lips unsealed the other’s soul. Before -long Marpasse had drawn the whole tale from her, and -Marpasse looked fierce over it, and yet more fierce when -Denise betrayed the bitterness that had poisoned her -heart.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“God in Heaven, child,” she broke in suddenly, -“do you know what you are saying?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I know what you are, Marpasse. They were ready -to whip me; I had no pity.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Marpasse set her teeth.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“This life, the devil pity you! For me, yes, but -you! I have a brazen face, a conscience like leather, -and talons that can tear. But you! Bah, you would -kill yourself in a month.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>She thrust Denise away from her, as though thrusting -her from some influence that was dangerous and to be -feared. Denise did not resist her, but sat hanging her -head, mute and obstinate, her eyes sweeping up now -and again to the face of the woman beside her.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I am weary of it all,” she said, “they made the soul -sick and bitter in me.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Marpasse sat with her chin on her fists, her forehead -one great frown.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Ssh, and you thought of me, and the road! -Am I such a damned witch as that!”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“You do not curse, and preach.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Marpasse turned on her with sudden, fierce sincerity.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Yes, I do not preach, because I am down in the -ditch, but I know what the mud is like, and I do not -want you with me. Bah, let me think. What shall -I tell you, that you had better be as dead as the black -boar there, before you take to the road.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Marpasse hugged her knees with her arms, staring -straight before her, and working her teeth against her -lower lip. Denise kept silence, hanging her head, and -flying in the face of her own bitterness like a bird that -dashes itself against a window at night.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Marpasse awoke suddenly from her musings, and -caught Denise by the hood of her cloak. She twisted her -hand into the grey cloth, held Denise at arm’s length, -and threw one word straight into her face.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Denise’s eyes flashed. She reddened from throat -to forehead, while Marpasse watched her as a physician -might watch the workings of some violent drug. Presently -the brown eyes faltered, and grew clouded with -the infinite consciousness of self. Marpasse burst into -a loud, harsh laugh. The next moment she had her -arms about Denise.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Soft fool, the word stings, eh? You are innocent -enough; it is all temper, and anger and discontent. -Your conscience answered to the sting. I throw your -own word in your face, and you redden like an Agnes. -No, no, you are not made to be one of us, thank God!”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Denise felt this big woman’s brown arms tightly -about her. A great spasm of emotion had gathered in -Marpasse’s throat. She held Denise with a straining, -inarticulate tenderness, as a mother might hold a child.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Heart of mine,” said she, “God forgive me for throwing -that word in your face. It was the slap of a wet cloth -on the cheek of one about to faint. Look up, sister, -listen to me, by the Holy Blood, I have the truth to -tell.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Marpasse was trembling with the passion in her.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Take my knife again, Denise, before that! Do -I not know, stroller and slut that I am! No, no, not -that, not the dregs of other folks’ cups, not the shame -and the sneers, and the curses thrown back in defiance. -Why should these good folk drive us down to hell, why -should their fat faces make cowards of us? There, I -have been the coward, take the truth from me, and be -warned, heart of mine. Better death, I say, before -the ditch, for it is death in a ditch that we wretches -come to. Brave it out, sister, and for God’s love keep -your heart from bitterness, and from poisoning its own -good blood.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>She still held Denise close to her.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“What did the woman St. Aguecheek say? Bah, -all lies, I tell you. Such cow-eyed women lie for the -sake of piety. The man say that of you? I know better. -Come, Denise, listen to me; I know a man when I have -looked him in the eyes.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>She turned Denise’s face to hers and kissed her.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“That was a clean kiss,” she said, “and by its cleanness -I’ll swear that beldam Ursula lied. What of Messire -Aymery? A man, child, a rock man with an arm that -can smite. Grace be with me, but he would have given -you his own heart to mend your broken one. I spoke -with him, and I know.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Denise lay at rest in Marpasse’s lap.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Why should Ursula have lied?” she asked.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Why do dogs eat grass, and vomit? What! I -know the woman, eyes that see the point of a pin and -miss the moon, and a tongue like a clacker in a cherry -tree. Love is lord of all, my dear, and what does that -beldam know of love? Messire Aymery had his heart -in his mouth that night. I judge that he let the old crow -peck at it, and she took the pieces and poisoned them, -and pushed them into your mouth. Go to now! Have -a little faith.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>She looked into Denise’s eyes and saw a change in -them. A more dewy and credulous April had followed -a dry and stormy March. Marpasse’s hand had stopped -the former wound. She was healing the wound now -in Denise’s soul.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“God grant that you are right, Marpasse.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Better, my dear, better. Lie in my arms and think -them a man’s, and that man as honest as ever loved a -woman. May I die in a ditch if I am mistaken! And -now, what’s to do, as the sluggard says when all the -rest have been three hours a-mowing.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Denise slipped out of Marpasse’s lap, and sat down -close to her, but not so close that their bodies touched. -This act of hers seemed to betray that she had come -by her stronger self again. Marpasse’s scolding had set -her upon her feet.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I shall stay with you,” she said simply.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Marpasse opened her mouth wide, a black circle of -mute expostulation.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Denise looked in her eyes.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Why not both of us?” she asked.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Marpasse’s mouth still stood open as though to -scoff at her own redemption. Denise closed it with her -own.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“There is a clean kiss,” she said, “let us keep it for -each other.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>And Marpasse caught her to her, and was a long while -silent.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Whatever these two women may have said to one -another, the fact was proven that Marpasse did not rejoin -her band of vagabonds that night, for she and Denise -sat on under the tree, and counted up the money that -they could boast between them. They were like a couple -of girls talking over some new dress, their heads close -together, and their hearts lighter than they had been for -many a day. But Marpasse had her whims. She would -not mix her money with Denise’s, but kept it apart -with a sort of scorn, handling it gingerly as though the -coins were hot.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Moreover Marpasse had a practical nature, and an -attitude towards the ways and means of life that betokened -that they were the accursed riddles that gods put to -men each inevitable day. In truth Marpasse’s life -had been one long riddle, and she had grown sick of -seeking to solve it, and had put the enigma out of her -mind.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Heart of mine,” said she, “we are very much on -a dust heap, so far as I can gather. My mouth was -made to eat and drink! I cannot turn beast like the -king did and eat grass. I have a little bread here in -my bag,” and she brought out the small sack that she -carried slung to her girdle under her cloak.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Denise was drinking in new hope.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“We have the money,” she said, “we can buy food, -and I have enough for to-night.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Innocent, there is not a loaf to be bought for miles -round. The King’s paunch would have made short -work of the very trees, only they are too tough. And -a word in your ear, treasure your money as though it -were your blood. For when a woman is starving, and -her pocket is empty, the devil comes in with a grin, and -offers to pay for a meal.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“How can we get more money?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Marpasse grimaced.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“We must go as mendicants,” she said. “I will -thieve an old cloak, and cover up my colour. -At all events, here is our Lord the Pig. We will make -some use of him. If you are dainty, go and sit on the -far side of the tree.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Marpasse turned butcher that night, nor was it the -first time that she had used a knife on a carcase, for people -who live by their wits go poaching at times, even after -the King’s deer. Marpasse had no intimate knowledge -of The Charter, or the Forest Laws, save that she had -known men who had been caught, and mutilated. Being -strong and skilful she had a good skinful of meat beside -her before the dusk came down. Then she cut a hazel -stake, slung the skin with the meat on it, and going down -to a stream that crossed the road, washed the boar’s -blood from her hands and arms, and came back clean and -smiling.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Silver John will soon be up,” she said, nodding -towards the east; “if he would only drop us a few coins -the colour of his face, I should feel the happiest beggar -in the kingdom. Come along with you. We will tramp -a little farther from my gossips. If you fell in with -them you might not like their tongues.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Denise and Marpasse set out together, keeping a -little distance from the road, and walking under the -shadows of the trees. Soon the moon came up, and made -the May woods magical, and full of a mystery that was -clean and pure. Nightingales sang in the thickets, and -the scent of the dew on the grass and dead leaves came -with the perfume of wild flowers out of the dusk.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Marpasse was in a happy mood despite a day’s tramp, -and the adventure with the boar.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I have a feeling in me,” she said, “that Silver John -looks at us kindly out of the sky. Throw us a penny, -good Lord Moon, or some hair out of your silver beard. -Hear how the birds are singing. They shall sing a -merry jingle into our pockets.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Denise walked beside Marpasse with a smile of peace -and of human nearness stealing upon her heart. And the -Moon who looked down on the world must have been -as wise as the breadth of his solemn face. “Strange,” -he may have thought, “here are a saint and a stroller -hand in hand, comforting one another, and making the -night mellow!” But they were both women who had -suffered as only women suffer, and the wise Moon may -have understood life, and sped them on with a glimmer -of good luck.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Marpasse’s sense of a blessing that was to be, saw -its fulfilment as in the magic of an Eastern tale. They -had walked a mile or more, and were looking about -them for shelter for the night, when Marpasse stood still -to listen, with one hand at her ear.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Ssh,” said she, “what’s in the wind?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>It was the sound of a bell that she and Denise heard, -a faint melancholy ripple like the sound of falling water -in the stillness of the night. Sometimes it ceased and -then broke out again, coming no nearer, nor dwindling -into the distance.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“A chapel bell?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Marpasse shook her head.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“No, nor a cow bell either. Poor soul, I know the -sound of it. That bell has a voice if ever a bell had.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>She listened awhile, and then touched Denise’s arm.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“It comes from yonder, there, by that black clump -of yews. A leper’s bell, or I have never been a -sinner.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>They went towards the thicket of yews that stood -there as though a black cloud covered the face of the -moon. The sound of the bell grew more importunate -and human. Marpasse whispered to Denise.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“It is the death toll,” she said, “I have heard such -a sound before at night. The poor souls do not like to -die alone in the dark. And those who hear the bell -sometimes take pity.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Stretched at the foot of the yew tree with the black -plumes curving overhead, Marpasse and Denise found -an old man whose face was as white as the cloak he wore. -A hand was rocking to and fro ringing the leper bell, -whose melancholy sound seemed to die away with the -moonlight into the midnight of the yews.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Marpasse bent over him, she had seen too much of -the rougher aspects of life to be greatly afraid of a leper.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Hallo, father,” she said, “here is company for you, -you can stop your ringing.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The man’s arm fell like a snapped bough, and the -bell came to the earth with a dull, metallic rattle. The -skull face, unmasked now that the end was near, betrayed -that the bell carrier had been starved by the famine that -the King’s host had left behind them in those parts. -He was blind and deaf with the death fog, nor did he -know that Marpasse was near him till she spoke.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Good soul, have pity.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>He turned his blind face towards Marpasse.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I am going yonder out of the world, and it is bad -to be alone when the evil spirits are abroad, and to hear -no prayer spoken. I rang my bell, good soul, for St. -Chrysostom, he of the golden mouth, promised me that -I should not die alone in the dark.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Marpasse sat down beside him, and beckoned Denise -to her.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Rest in peace, brother. What would comfort -you?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The man lay very still, with a face like ivory. He -scarcely seemed to breathe.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“A Pater Noster,” he said presently, “I cannot -come by a prayer, for the words run to and fro in my -head like rabbits in a warren.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Marpasse looked at Denise.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Here is a Sister who knows all the prayers,” she -said.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Ah, there is the smell of good meat a-cooking in a -prayer. I saw the Host through a leper squint not a -month ago. Pray, good souls, and I will ask the Lord -Christ to shrive me.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Denise knelt in the grass, with Marpasse huddled -close to her, and spoke prayers for the leper’s lips, and -found comfort and sweetness for her own soul in the praying. -Presently the man held up a shaking hand, and -made the sign of the Cross in the air.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Good souls,” he asked them, speaking as though -he had a bone in his throat, “unfasten my girdle from -about my body.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Marpasse’s hands answered his desire. The girdle -had a leather pouch fastened to it, and the pouch was -heavy. Marpasse gave it into his hands, and he laid -it against his mouth, and then held it towards Denise.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I would rather you had it, Sister, than some begging -friar. There is money in it, the alms of five years, and -God bless the charitable. Take it, good souls. Dead -men want no gold, though you will have candles burnt, -and prayers put up for Peter the Leper.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>He felt for his bell and they heard a great sigh come -out of his body like the sound of a spirit soaring away -on invisible wings. The bell gave a last spasmodic -tinkle that was muffled and smothered by the grass. -Then all was still, save for a light breeze that stirred -the black boughs of the yews.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Denise knelt there awhile in prayer. Marpasse had -gone aside and had cut down a yew bough with her -knife, and was shaping the end thereof into the shape of -a narrow spade. She began to turn the sods up clear -of the roots of the trees, and Denise came and watched -her, holding the dead man’s girdle in her hands.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>It took Marpasse till midnight to scratch a shallow -grave. They laid the leper in it, with his bell in his -hand, and his staff beside him, and covered him with -sods and boughs.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Then Marpasse and Denise lay down under a tree -and slept in each other’s arms. They did not look into -the pouch that night, for the nearness of death and the -infinite pathos thereof possessed them.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>And when Denise opened the pouch next morning, -a rattle of silver came tumbling out, with here and there -a piece of gold that shone like the yellow flower of the -silverweed in the midst of its dusty foliage. Marpasse’s -blue eyes stared hard at the money. Both she and -Denise were silent for a minute.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Poor soul! We will put up prayers for him.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Marpasse hugged her bosom.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“God see to it,” she said. “The tide turned when -the old man’s ship put out over the dark sea.”</p> - -<div><h1 class='nobreak'>CHAPTER XXXVI</h1></div> - -<p class='pindent'>The King and his lords marched southwards through -Sussex, boasting themselves lords of the land, and very -much doubting whether Earl Simon would dare to follow -them, and meet them in the open field. At Flimwell -the King put to death certain of the country folk who -had surprised and slain some of his people in the woods. -Already many of the rough troops in Henry’s service -had begun to grumble at the emptiness of the land -through which they marched, for they had had but little -pillaging to keep them in a good humour, no great cellars -to drain dry, no towns to trifle with. The King, being -a generous man where other folks’ coffers were concerned, -as he had proved in the Sicilian farce, turned royal pimp -and purveyor to his army. The Abbey of Robertsbridge -lay in their path, and Henry let his men loose to plunder -the place, and despoiled the monks still further by making -them pay heavy ransom for their lives.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The news of the sacking of Robertsbridge came to -Abbot Reginald five miles away at Battle, and though -he may have rejoiced over the humbling of a rival, he -was warned by his brother Abbot’s flaying, and made -haste to appear loyal. The Cistercians of Robertsbridge -had been shrewd and greedy neighbours, and had snatched -manors and land that might have fallen to the children -of St. Benedict. Grants in Pett, Guestling, Icklesham, -Playden, and Iden, and also lands in Snargate, Worth, -Combden, Sedlescombe, and Ewhurst, showed that -there had been cause for jealousy between the two. -Reginald of Brecon may have had some thought of a -possible transference of land from the Cistercians to his -own “house.” To show his loyalty he called out his -tenants, and marched out in state as a war lord to meet -the King, carrying presents with him, and wearing a -mild and pliant manner. Riding back beside the King -he spoke sadly of the poverty of St. Martin, and how -the Pope’s perquisitions and pilferings had emptied his -treasure-chest. The King should have had it, had he -not pledged much of the Abbey plate to the Jews, but -his sweet lord was wholly welcome to such food and -drink as could be got together.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Abbot Reginald’s presents were perilously mean, -and were not to be bulked out by pompous language. -Even then, his discretion might not have miscarried -but for the over anxious zeal of that cunning fox, Dom -Silvius. The almoner had bleated a “gaudeamus” -over the humbling of the Cistercian upstarts at Robertsbridge. -He had sought an audience of Abbot Reginald -before the monks met in the chapter house, and had put -forward the plan that his superior actually accepted. -It might be possible to follow the middle path, pay little, -and make some profits, and at least escape from being -robbed. Silvius took upon himself the secret burying -of the Abbey treasure, and Silvius’s zeal for St. Martin -was so notorious that none of the brethren quarrelled -with his energy.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Battle that night was like a garden smothered in -locusts, so thick was the swarm of armed men, servants, -vagabonds, mules and horses. Henry, Prince Edward, -the King of the Romans, and the great lords were lodged -in the Abbey, and dined in state in the abbot’s hall. -Swarthy, swaggering men were everywhere, crowding -and jostling, poking their noses into every corner of -the five boroughs, kissing the women, and taking the -food and drink that the monks and burghers surrendered -to them for the blessing of peace and piety. Troops -crowded the gardens, the orchards, and the Abbot’s -park. And though some measure of order reigned, the -atmosphere was surcharged with thunder, Reginald and -his people feeling themselves like Roman provincials -at the mercy of a host of Huns.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>In the thick of all this sultriness Dom Silvius must -needs discover that some of the reliquaries had been -left in the Abbey church. Silvius soon had the sacristan -by the girdle, protesting fervently that the reliquaries -must be saved from possible sacrilege, and buried with -the rest of the Abbey treasure. Silvius played the part -of a mad miser and busybody that night. He had spades -brought, and sneaked out into the darkness with the -sacristan and two of the younger brothers at his heels.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>It so happened that Dom Silvius spoilt the whole -plot by being over anxious for the property of St. Martin. -Some of Comyn’s Scotch soldiers, slinking about for -anything to thieve, caught the monks burying the reliquaries -in a piece of garden ground beyond the great -<span class='it'>garde-robe</span>. The Scotchmen were quick to scent a -trick, collared Silvius and his comrades, brought torches -and tools, and set to work on their own authority. Not -only did they discover two of the reliquaries that had -been buried, but struck their spades on the whole of -the Abbey treasure that had been hidden in a pit. Scotchmen, -monks, treasure, torches, and all went in a whirl -to the great hall where the King was dining. And Abbot -Reginald hid his face in a flagon when he saw Silvius -dragged in, spitting like a furious cat.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The King’s eyes were not pleasant to behold. He -had the “merry-thought” of a chicken in his hand, -and was scraping the flesh from it with a silver knife. -He looked attentively at the treasure that Comyn’s -men tumbled on the floor below the dais. Then he broke -the “merry-thought” in two, and folding the pieces in -his fist, bade Reginald choose his lot.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Reginald of Brecon pulled out the shorter of the two. -The King laughed, a dry cackle that was ominous.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“The shorter the bone, the shorter the shrift, gentlemen,” -he said. “We will take care of this treasure for -you, my lord Abbot. As for the cellars, storehouses, -burgher tenements, and all such belongings, we make -a night’s gift of them to those who thirst and -hunger.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>There was loud laughter, and a babel of voices. The -flushed gentry at the table shouted “God strengthen the -King.” One monk alone was mad enough to throw -himself between St. Martin and the pleasantry of the -royal spite, and that monk was Dom Silvius.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>He broke loose, and rushed with furious and stuttering -face to the high table, brandishing his cross, fanatical as -any Egyptian hermit out of the desert.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Spoiler of the houses of God!”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The bacon was following the fat into the fire. Abbot -Reginald, good man, lost patience, and threw his platter -in Silvius’s face.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Silvius, with a gobbet of gravy on his nose, looked -comic enough, but still burnt like a Telemachus.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“God shall revenge sacrilege! Let the curse of -St. Martin——”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Someone from behind took him by the collar, and -twisted a fist into the folds till Silvius was in danger of -being choked.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The King lay back in his chair and laughed.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Take the prophet away, and let him be washed,” -he said. “By the heart of King Richard, I have no -use to-night for an Elijah!”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>In this way it came about that Dom Silvius took a -ride on the back of an ass, with his feet lashed under -the beast’s belly, and a dirty pot forced down over -his ears. The mob pelted Silvius with stones and offal -till he was a mere image covered with blood and -dirt. Comyn’s Scots had the privilege of bringing the -martyrdom to an end. They took Silvius from the -back of the ass, and carrying him into the place where -the treasure had been buried, pitched him into the -<span class='it'>garde-robe</span> drain, and so left him.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Silvius’s blundering had, however, a grimmer significance, -for it brought upon the Abbey and the town that -straggled about it the same fate that had befallen the -despised Cistercians. The King had given the place -over to plunder, and it was at the mercy of the rough -soldiery who were doubly insolent with the fumes of -mead and wine. The folk of the borough of Battle -might well have cursed Silvius and the Abbey treasure, -for the devil was let loose among them that May -night.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Nor did the darkness hide the violence and the horror, -for the very furniture was thrown out into the street -and piled up amid the faggots to help the bonfires that -lit the sport of war. Women and children fled like -frightened birds into the darkness, and were thrice blessed -if they were not caught, and held. The gaudy queans -who had followed the army played King of the Castle -on the high altar of the church, pulling each other down -by the skirts, shouting, and tumbling over one another -on the steps. Drunken men burst in the door of the -bell tower, and set all the bells clanging in huge discords. -Others caught the monks, and made them race naked -round the cloisters, whipping them with their girdles to -make them nimble.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Gaillard and some of his fellows had come by a cask -of wine, and Gaillard had Black Isoult, Marpasse’s comrade, -under his arm, and was well content with the lady. -They needed a house for a night’s revel, and chose one -in the main street, a stone house that joined a forge. -Gaillard’s men broke down the door, while their captain -held a torch, and Isoult sat on the wine cask, laughing.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>When the door gave way they were met in the dark -entry by a virago with a hatchet, none other than Bridget, -the smith’s wife, who had stormed against Denise. The -men fell back from her, but Isoult showed herself more -valiant, and quite a match for the lady.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Make way, Gammer Goodbody,” she said, “make -way for the red gown.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Bridget answered her with an oath, and a word that -was too familiar to Isoult’s ears.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The little woman’s black eyes sparkled with spite.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Here is a respectable slut,” she said, “who has not -learnt to kiss the foot of a lady.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>And she cut Bridget across the forearm with her -knife, so that the smith’s wife dropped her hatchet.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Gaillard sent his men in, and they overpowered the -woman. But Isoult would not let them harm her. Her -own spirit of wickedness was equal to taming the big -shrew.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>She made them cut off Bridget’s hair, dress her in -some of her man’s clothes, tie a lamb’s skin under her -chin, and truss her with her hands fastened to her ankles. -Then while she drank wine with Gaillard and made merry, -seated on a bench, her red gown the colour of freshly -shed blood, she had Bridget rolled across the floor and -propped up near her like a sick duck. Isoult made a -mock of the smith’s wife that night because of the thing -she had called her, asking her where her marriage lines -were, and why her man had not come home. Sometimes -she threw the dregs from her ale horn into Bridget’s face, -and called her a she-goat and a rabbit. Bridget still -had the courage to curse back again, though her tongue -was less clever than Isoult’s. But when Isoult took a -burning stick from the fire, and began to singe Dame -Bridget’s stockings, the woman took to screaming, and -pleaded for pity.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>So Dom Silvius let the devil loose in Battle, and the -memory of that night lingered for many a long day.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>As for Isoult’s comrade Marpasse, she and Denise had -come to Grinstead amid the woods, and were lodged in -the house of a woman who fed swine and kept a wayside -inn. At Grinstead they heard the news that Earl Simon -and the Barons’ host had left London with fifteen thousand -burghers to swell their ranks, and were on the march to -deal with the King. The army would pass not far from -Grinstead, so said the woman of the inn, and Marpasse -and Denise took counsel together and put their plans in -order.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Love carries the sword,” said Marpasse, and laughed -and kissed Denise.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I can never look him in the face again.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Bah, grey goose! There will be wounds to be -healed. A woman’s hands are useful when the trumpets -are hoarse and tired.”</p> - -<div><h1 class='nobreak'>CHAPTER XXXVII</h1></div> - -<p class='pindent'>On the evening of Tuesday, the 13th of May, the Barons -lay amid the woods about Fletching, knowing that they -were to march on the morrow to offer the King battle -outside Lewes town. All hope of peace had gone, and -both parties had thrown away the scabbard. Henry -believed that he had Earl Simon at his mercy, for the -royal host far outnumbered the Earl’s, and where De -Montfort could count in part only on burgher levies, -the King and his favourites had the flower of the foreign -mercenaries in their pay. Henry had refused to listen -to the Bishops of London and Worcester, who had come -from the Earl. God was delivering Simon and his turbulent -following into the royal hands, and the King was not -to be cheated of his opportunity by the tongues of meddlesome -priests.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>As the evening sun sank towards the west, the Barons’ -host gathered and stood to their arms with the fresh -green of the May woods spreading a virgin canopy above -their spears. It was no gorgeous pageant so far as pomp -and circumstance were concerned. There were many -banners and pennons brilliant in the evening sunshine, -but the bulk of De Montfort’s army was made up of the -lesser gentry, and their retainers, and the burghers of -the towns, plain men, but men who were in grim and -sober earnest. Many of them had never fought in their -lives before, and Gaillard, and such gallants in the King’s -service, laughed when they spoke of the herd of hogs they -were to chase through the Sussex woodlands. But the -stocky, brown-faced men of the English towns, and the -English manors were not to be trampled on so easily. -Men who could fell timber, and handle the scythe, the -bill and the hammer, were tough in the arms, and sound -and strong at heart.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The Barons’ host went on its knees that evening, its -lines of steel seaming the green woods. Lords, knights, -gentlemen, yeomen, burghers, knelt with their shields -before them, their swords naked in the grass, their heads -uncovered. Between the ranks of these silent, steel-clad -figures came the Bishop of Worcester, and many -priests with him, chanting as they came. The whole -host was confessed, absolved, and blessed under the oak -trees of the Fletching woods. It was as though the heart -of England was shrived that day, before the national -ordeal of battle.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Holy Cross, Holy Cross.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Men came running and shouting through the ranks, -carrying bales of white cloth which they spread on the -grass, and tore into hundreds of strips. Every fighting -man was to carry the White Cross on his breast. And -in the midst of it all Earl Simon and a great company of -lords and gentlemen came riding through, wearing the -White Cross on their surcoats. Swords and spears were -tossed aloft, and the heart of the host went up in sound -like the long roar of a stormy sea.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Under a great oak tree De Montfort knighted many -of the younger lords and gentlemen, among them Robert -de Vere, John de Burgh the son of the great justiciary, -and young Gilbert, Earl of Gloucester. Then he and his -sons and his captains went everywhere, heartening their -men, bidding them rest and eat, and keep strong and -lusty against the morrow.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>As De Montfort was riding back with young Gloucester, -and a few knights and gentlemen of his own household -to the manor house where he had his quarters, he came -upon several women standing under the shade of an old -yew. It happened that Earl Simon had put abroad -an order that no women should be suffered to follow -the army on the march. If the King and his host had -seven hundred courtesans in their camp, that was the -King’s affair; De Montfort would have none of it.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Earl Simon ordered his gentlemen to halt, and turned -aside alone towards the yew tree. Two of the women -had come forward, and were waiting as though to speak -with the Earl. De Montfort had a frown on his face. -Great soldier that he was, he had his rough and passionate -moods; his strong sincerity sometimes ran away with -his tongue.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The two women went on their knees before Earl -Simon’s horse.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Sire,” said the elder of the two, “put your anger -away. We are here for love of the White Cross.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Straight speaking, and a straight look of the eyes -were things that De Montfort loved. The armed men -who watched and waited, wondered why Earl Simon -tarried there talking, and did not send the women -away.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>De Montfort’s face had begun to shine like the face -of a saint. He looked very thoughtfully at the two -women as they laid their lives in the hollow of his hand. -The plan was Marpasse’s, but Denise would not suffer -her comrade to carry it out alone. Their plan was to -go as spies to Lewes that night, and bring back any news -that they could gather as to what the King purposed to -do on the morrow.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Earl Simon would have none of it at first. Perhaps -he doubted their honesty; yet the two women contrived -to convince him, Marpasse sly and valiant, Denise with -the quiet eyes of one who has chosen a certain part.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>De Montfort appeared puzzled by Denise. Marpasse -saw the look, and broke in in her blunt, bold way:—</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“She is not of my clay, sire, but we were baked in -the same oven. She has seized this trick of mine, and -will not let it out of her hands.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Is that so, child?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Denise’s eyes met his.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I am not afraid, sire,” she answered.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The Earl still shirked accepting a possible sacrifice. -Marpasse put in a final word.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Though it be to my shame, lord,” she said, “I have -learnt how to tread among thorns. There is only one -thing that I would ask, and that is the right to choose the -man who shall take us within two miles of Lewes town.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>She flashed a look at Denise as though to silence her, -and went close to De Montfort’s horse. A smile came -over his face as he listened to Marpasse, and there was -sadness in the smile, and the quiet compassion of a man -who had held children in his arms.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“God guard you both,” he said, “it shall be as you -desire.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Aymery had command of the guard that evening at -the manor house where Simon, the Earl of Gloucester, -and the great lords had their quarters. Word was brought -him by an esquire of De Montfort’s son Guy, that the -Earl was calling for him, and that Simon was to be found -in the great barn where the Bishop of Worcester was to -preach to the lords and gentlemen before sundown. -Aymery found the Earl sitting on a barrow that stood -on the threshing floor, a knot of knights standing behind -him, and the evening sunlight that poured in striking -silver burs from their battle harness.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Simon looked straight into Aymery’s eyes as he gave -him his orders.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Go down to the yew tree near the pond where we -water our horses, messire. You will find two women -waiting there. They have sworn to spy out the land for -us. Take a guide and ten spears, and see the women -as near to Lewes as you can without breaking cover.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Earl Simon always eyed his men as though he were -looking into the brain behind the eyes. Aymery saluted, -and turned to obey. His face betrayed no surprise, -though it was a new thing for De Montfort to rely on -the wits of two women.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Simon called him back.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Wait, and keep watch in the woods,” he said, -“the women will try to bring back news. We shall -be on the move before dawn.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>He rose from the barrow, and crossing the threshing -floor, laid a hand on Aymery’s shoulder.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“It is in my heart to catch the King napping to-morrow,” -he said. “I trust England with you, in this, -and some of us may have to suffer.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>He stood considering something a moment, frowning -a little, his hand still on Aymery’s shoulder.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“The two women yonder, brave hearts, have talked -me into suffering this. I would not put such work upon -a woman, but then, my son, we all carry the Cross. -Hasten, and God speed you.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>And Aymery went out from before him, thinking of -the two women as women, and nothing more.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Marpasse, who had spun her net very cleverly, and -whose hope had been to catch and entangle a man and -a woman therein, was bitterly disgusted at the way things -happened. She had made up her mind that she herself -would go to Lewes, but she had no intention of taking -Denise into the hell of the royal camp. She certainly -caught these two people in her net, but they broke the -threads, and would not do as she desired. Yet Marpasse -might have seen how it would be had she not been too -eager to sweep away Denise’s pride.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Denise was standing by her, with the sunlight on her -hair and face, waiting in all innocence for the escort that -Earl Simon was to send for them. A prophetic fore-gleam -of self-sacrifice played in the deeps of her brown eyes. -She had seized on Marpasse’s plan and clasped it as something -precious and something actively alive. The solemn -shriving of that great host under the oaks of the Fletching -woods had sent the blood to Denise’s brain. She felt -herself in the midst of strong men who held their swords -aloft and prayed. She was as one who saw a sacred fire -burning, and was driven to throw herself therein with the -ardour of a soul that seeks martyrdom in some great -cause.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Marpasse, who had a corner of each eye very wide -awake for the coming of the man on the black horse, -began to wonder how Denise would meet the truth. -And Marpasse’s expectations came back limply to roost -like birds that had been drenched in a thunder shower. -She had struck a spark into Denise’s soul, and the spark -blazed up into a beacon that Marpasse could not -smother.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Aymery came riding down past the great pool where -troopers were watering their horses, the beasts trampling -and splashing in the oozy shallows, and sucking lustily -despite the mud. Marpasse soon marked him down, -and watched his face as they came within his ken. Marpasse -saw Aymery go red as a boy, and being comforted -by the man’s colour, she stole a glance at Denise. Denise’s -face had been shining like the face of one inspired. -Marpasse saw it cloud suddenly as though a shadow -had fallen across it.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>So they met, with the women under the yew tree fifty -paces away watching them, and the splashing of the -horses and the voices of the men merging into the great -murmur that seemed to fill the woods. For the moment -Aymery had nothing to say. Marpasse could have pricked -him with the point of her knife to make him leap out of -that slough of silence. Denise stood in the long grass, -a whorl of golden flowers brushing her grey gown, her -face white and troubled in the sunlight. Marpasse might -have had a pair of dumb and irresponsive puppets on -her hands. There was nothing left for her but to pull -the strings.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I am the brown woman who mended a wound, -lording,” she began.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Aymery remembered her well enough. His face -resembled a grey sky through which the sun was trying -to shine and could not. He had his heart in his mouth -but Denise did not help him. She stood there, as though -her thoughts soared into some cold and brilliant corner -of heaven. Yet only the surface had the sheen of ice. -The deeps beneath were full of flux and tumult.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Marpasse, being a plain and impetuous woman, could -have nudged both of them, and prompted both, at one -and the same moment. Matters were not moving as -she had forecasted, and these two people looked afraid -of one another.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“A kiss on the mouth, lording, and your arms round -her,” that was what she would have said.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Her words were:—</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Earl Simon may have told you the news.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>By the sharp look that Aymery gave Denise, Marpasse -guessed that he knew the truth.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“To Lewes?” he asked her, with the uneasy air -of a man urging himself to do something that seemed -strangely difficult.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Oh, we women, lording, can be of use.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>He repeated the words, looking at Denise.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“To Lewes?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Marpasse grimaced.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“God knows, we shall be walking on hot bricks,” -she said; “but then, this blue gown, and this face of -mine, are better than passwords.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Aymery’s eyes were still upon Denise, as though -waiting for one word or look from her. He could not -see that she was as passionately mute as he was, and -that a spasm of self-consciousness held her in thrall.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Marpasse broke in, feeling the silence like thorns in -her flesh.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I can do without her, lording. Listen to me, -Golden-head. They shall put me within a mile of Lewes -town, and wait in the woods for any news that I can -gather. You need not play the moth to the candle.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Marpasse saw Aymery’s eyes flash something at her -that made her less uneasy. The judgment lay with -Denise. They looked at her and waited.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Denise looked at neither. She hid everything, nor -was there a ripple of emotion about her mouth.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I shall go with you, Marpasse,” she said.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The big woman shrugged her shoulders.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Bah, I can as well take one of the others with me. -They would play the part better, and look less dangerous.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Denise kept her eyes from Aymery, as though her -pride had set itself a pilgrimage, and would not see -anything that might hinder it.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Say what you please, I shall go with you, as I -promised.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Marpasse nodded her head, and seemed to consider -the situation. Biting her lips, she looked from Aymery -to Denise. Neither of them helped her, and Marpasse -could have stamped her foot at the man, and told him -what to do. “Fool, take her away from me, and hold -her fast!” She shrugged her broad shoulders, and -laughed a little mockingly.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“We are all talking so much,” she said, “that we -shall get nowhere to-night unless we tie up our tongues. -You, lording, can find us a couple of mules or asses.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Marpasse’s sarcasm sank into sand, for Denise turned -and walked back towards the rest of the women who -were making a meal under the yew tree. Some of them -were using their needles, and sewing the white crosses -on to the surcoats of the men.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I will say good-bye to them.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Perhaps there was a set purpose in this act of hers, -for Denise would have Aymery see the comrades with -whom she had travelled.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Aymery was turning his horse when Marpasse caught -his bridle.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Lording,” she said, “keep the fog out of your eyes. -We, and the rest yonder, followed the host to do what -we could when men were knocked out of the saddle. -I have changed my cloth, if not the colour of it. She -has done that for me.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>She looked up almost fiercely into Aymery’s eyes.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Speak to her on the way, lording. Women are not -won by looking, charge home, and let the trumpets -blow, unless,” and she let go the bridle, “unless my lord -has changed.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The man’s eyes answered her that.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Marpasse, have you forgotten that night?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“No, not I, nor you, lording.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“It seemed death then, but now——”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Marpasse’s eyes flashed up at him.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Man, man, what makes the hills blaze, a wet fog, -or the sunset?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Dusk was beginning to fall when they set off into the -woods, Denise upon a grey palfrey that a priest had -lent them, Marpasse perched on a mule, Aymery and -his men in full battle harness, their spears trailing under -the trees. They had a guide with them, a swineherd -who knew every path and ride even by night, and though -the sun was touching the horizon, they had before them -the long twilight of a clear evening in May.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Aymery sent the guide on ahead with the men-at-arms, -and Marpasse, knowing what she knew, manœuvred -her mule so as to leave Aymery with Denise. But the -priest’s palfrey seemed to have conceived a great affection -for Marpasse’s mule. Denise had hardly a word to say. -She kept close beside Marpasse and appeared blind to the -glimmerings of that good woman’s impatience.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Marpasse could bear it out no longer. She struck -her mule several resounding smacks with her open hand, -and the beast went away at a lazy canter, leaving Denise -and the man on the black horse together.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“May God untie their tongues,” Marpasse said to -herself; “it is a curse to have too quick a conscience. -I shall be hoisted on my own fire unless the man can -bring her to reason.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>So Marpasse rode on behind the men-at-arms, leaving -the two to work out their own salvation.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The woods were steeped in a green twilight, and a great -stillness reigned everywhere, save for the song of the birds. -Here and there a great tree stood tongued as with fire. -The foliage grew black against the golden glow in the -west, while long slants of light still stole in secretly along -the solemn aisles. The birds were at their vespers, and -a cold dew was falling, drawing out the fresh perfume -of the woods at night.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Aymery and Denise were riding side by side, the -woman pale, sad-eyed, yet resolute, the man sunk in that -deep silence that follows some ineffectual and passionate -outburst of the heart. They seemed afraid of one -another, nor could they meet each other’s eyes. Denise’s -white face might have stood for the moon. And though -the birds sang, their voices gave the dusk a sadder and a -stranger mystery.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Aymery spoke at last, passing a hand over his horse’s -mane.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Our Lady keep you,” he said, “I will not quarrel -with your desire.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Denise’s lips were dry, and she felt as though the old -wound had broken over her heart.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“If I have suffered,” she said simply, “I have learnt -what life is.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Self-martyrdom?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>His voice woke echoes that she strove to smother.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“It is God’s whim in me, perhaps, that I should prove -myself. Marpasse and I will go together.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Night had come and the glare of many fires lit the -southern sky when they reached the edge of the woodland -and saw the great downs black, and vague and ominous. -The men were waiting under the woodshaw, and Marpasse -stood rubbing the nose of her mule. She could -hear voices, slow, suppressed, stricken into short, pregnant -sentences like the disjointed fragments of a song struck -from untuned lutes.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Denise had left her palfrey under a tree. She came -out from the shadows, and taking Marpasse in her arms, -kissed her.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“We go together, you and I,” she said. “No, no, say -nothing to me, it is my heart’s desire.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Marpasse held her, and was mute. She looked towards -a shadowy figure on a shadowy horse, and Denise understood -the look.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I have told him, he will not hinder me in this.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Heart of mine, stay here in the woods. I can go -alone, my carcase is of no account.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Denise would not be put away.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Marpasse,” she said, “this is our Lord’s true passion -working in me. Nor shall the cup from which He drank -be snatched from me to-night.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Marpasse was silent, feeling a greatness near her that -awed her rebellious impulses. She kissed Denise, and -was very humble, thinking that she herself had brought -this thing to pass.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Come then,” she said, “it may be that God goes -with us to-night.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Aymery, standing with one arm over his horse’s -neck, watched them disappear into the darkness, the -swineherd going with them to show them the road to -the town. The whole northern sky still burnt with a -faint glow of gold, and in the south a hundred fires -flickered amid the black folds of the downs. And Aymery -watched these distant fires, thinking with grim impatience -of the King’s host that lay yonder like a great dragon -ready to tear and slay.</p> - -<div><h1 class='nobreak'>CHAPTER XXXVIII</h1></div> - -<p class='pindent'>The King and Richard the Roman were lodged that -night at the Priory of St. Pancras, Prince Edward with -De Warenne in the castle of Lewes. Nor would it have -been easy to choose between St. Pancras Priory and -Lewes Town in the matter of furious and indiscriminate -drinking. Some said that the King’s host mustered -sixty thousand men. One thing was certain, that a very -great number of them were drunk that night, and that -the lords and captains were no better than the men.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“The King will hunt swine to-morrow.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Such was the night’s apothegm, and men flung it -with variations and with a liberal garnishing of oaths -into each other’s faces. The metaphor was acceptable -to those who were in their cups, and much repetition -piled assurance upon assurance. The great army of -the King had its head full of drunken insolence. Its -mouth uttered one huge oath. It would only have to -show itself on the morrow, and De Montfort’s dirty -burghers would take to their heels and run.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Bonfires had been lit everywhere, and round them -were crowds of grotesque faces that bawled, and gulped, -and fed. There was no lack of food and drink, sheep and -oxen were roasted whole; men gorged themselves like -dogs about the carcases. Cressets flared upon the castle -towers, and Prince Edward had set twenty trumpeters -to blow fanfares before the gate. The Priory bells were -jangling like fuddled men quarrelling with one another. -There was no discipline anywhere, no sign of a high -purpose, no forethought for the morrow. “The King -will hunt swine!” Men bellowed it to one another, and -the superstition contented them.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>When Denise and Marpasse came near the west gate -of the town, they saw a huge fire burning there, the flames -lighting the black battlements above. A great crowd -had gathered about the fire, and the noise might have -equalled the noise at Barnet Fair. Men were running -about half naked like hairy-legged satyrs mad with wine. -The platform of the town gate was crowded with a -roaring, squealing mob that amused itself by emptying -nature upon the equally repulsive mob below. Mounted -upon a tub, a man with one eye, dressed like a Franciscan, -spouted indecent skits on the clergy, pretending the while -to be zealously in earnest. Elsewhere a crowd of excited -and contorted figures made a ring round two women who, -stripped to the waist, were wrestling, their faces smeared -with the blood of a dead ox. Drunken rascals were -scrambling about on all fours, and pretending to be dogs. -If any mad whim came into a man’s head, he acted on -it, and did not stop to think.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Marpasse had taken Denise by the wrist, and they had -melted back into the darkness, holding their breath over -the chance of being plunged into that simmering human -stew. Marpasse was no innocent, but her face went hard -and ugly with the sincerity of her disgust.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Drunken swine! We will keep away from your sty, -I warrant you.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>She spoke in a harsh whisper, her pupils contracting -as she stared at the gate and the bonfire that was half -hidden by live things that swarmed like beetles. Denise -shuddered inwardly, and was silent. She thought of the -cool, dark woods over yonder, and of the grim and quiet -men who waited for the dawn.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Marpasse waved an arm towards the town.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“You see,” she seemed to say.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“They are like wild beasts.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“What did you think to find, my dear; blessed banners -and crosses, and priests galore? Or perhaps so many Sir -Tristans keeping watch under the stars, and thinking of -noble and great ladies. No, no, the King and Earl Simon -handle their hot coals differently. Come away, we shall -do no good yonder.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>They retreated along the road, and hearing loud -squeals of laughter near them, drew aside, and hid themselves -in a ditch. Marpasse could feel Denise shivering. -When the laughter had gone by them towards the town, -Marpasse stood up and looked about her in the -darkness.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“We were walking into the cattle market,” she said -in an ironical whisper. “The Priory lies yonder, most -likely the King is lodged there. Pick your feet up out -of this mud.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>They scrambled out of the ditch, and leaving the road, -went on cautiously hand in hand. Marpasse’s eyes seemed -like the eyes of a cat. Sometimes they stopped to listen, -standing close together as though for comfort. The darkness, -rendered more weird and baffling by the glare of the -watch fires, seemed to threaten them with all manner of -evil shapes.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>An overbearing desire to talk mastered Denise. The -sound of her own voice tended to smother the whisperings -of panic. Marpasse let her run on till the mass of the -Priory began to blacken the clear sky.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Ssh,” she said, “we shall need our ears now, more -than our tongues. If we are stopped by any of these -gentry, leave the talking to me.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Aymery’s face flashed up into Denise’s consciousness. -Her hand contracted convulsively upon Marpasse’s -wrist.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“If Earl Simon could have fallen on them to-night,” -she whispered.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“To-morrow will do, or I am no prophet,” answered -Marpasse.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The Priory of St. Pancras was shut in by its great -precinct wall, but Marpasse and Denise found it only -too easy to make their way within. There was a guard -at the Priory gate, but the men were drinking and dicing, -letting the night look after itself. People did what they -pleased, and St. Pancras had no heavenly say in the -matter. The men of the sword had pushed the good -saint into a corner, his monks, too, were exceeding meek -and docile, holding to the Christian doctrine that one -must suffer in the spirit of patience. Yet their patience -was largely a matter of discretion and of necessity, for -put power in a priest’s hands and he is a tyrant among -tyrants.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Booths had been set up inside the precinct wall, and -there were clowns who kept the crowd a-laughing, and -minstrels who sang songs fit for the lowest ear. Women -in bright-coloured clothes went to and fro between the -bonfires, fierce, hawk-faced women who knew how to take -care of their own concerns. Marpasse and Denise kept -in the shadow, though there were things to stumble over -in the darkness, as Marpasse found when she trod on -something that kicked out at her and cursed. They -wandered into the cloisters, and through the dark passage-ways -and slypes; all doors were open, and no one hindered -them, for no one seemed to boast any authority that -night. Sometimes they stood in dark corners, and listened -to what was said by those who passed. St. Pancras -might have stood with his fingers in his ears, for the humour -was very broad, and the language primitive. “The King -will hunt swine to-morrow.” The same snatch served here -as in Lewes town, and Marpasse understood the significance -thereof. The King meant to attack De Montfort -on the morrow, and was letting his men debauch themselves -into reckless good humour.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The great church was full of tawny light, all the doors -stood open, and Marpasse and Denise gliding from buttress -to buttress, looked in through the door of the north transept. -Torches had been stuck about the walls, the smoke -pouring up, and filling the dim distance of the vaulting -with drifting vapour. The church was full of men and -women in cloths and silks of the brightest colours, men -and women who danced and drank, and sprawled about -the flagged floors. Nor were the men from the common -crowd of the King’s army; they were the lords, the -knights, and the esquires, wild captains of free-lances -who held a debauch before to-morrow’s battle. The high -altar was like a rostrum in old Rome, seized upon by a -drunken crowd, and covered with creatures that laughed -and howled, and clung to one another. Some of the -women had put on the men’s helmets, others wore garlands -of half-withered flowers. A party of young nobles -had broken open the sacristy, and dressed themselves -in precious embroidered vestments. The scene was a -scramble of colour, a scene of perpetual movement, -of flux and reflux, of strong sensual life throbbing in and -out of half-darkened sanctuaries.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Marpasse had seen enough, and Denise too much. -They were moving away, when Marpasse started aside -and drew Denise into the shadow of a buttress. A blur -of movement disentangled itself from the darkness, and -took shape in a knot of figures that approached the -transept door. The party halted, and the two women -saw a man wearing a cloak of sables, and a surcoat of -some golden stuff, come forward alone and stand looking -into the church.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The glare from the torches fell upon the face of the -man who wore the sable cloak. It was a handsome face, -yet weak and troubled, the face of a man without great -self-restraint, a man who would attempt to be violent -when he should be patient, and who would betray his -weakness when he needed strength. There was something -tragic about the figure standing there alone, and -looking in upon the wild night before the dawn of the -morrow. It might have been the figure of a magician -gazing upon the fierce and elemental things that he had -brought into being, and who had lost the power of holding -them under his spell.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Marpasse saw the man cross himself, and turn away -with an air that suggested foreshadowings of disaster. It -was a figure full of infinite significance, in that it had striven -continually to strut upon the world’s stage, and yet -had never succeeded in being more than a puppet.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Marpasse had whispered in Denise’s ear.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“The King!”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>And then:—</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“The poor fool! He is not a shepherd like Earl -Simon. Even his sheep dogs are out of hand.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>As he had come out of the darkness, so he disappeared, -silently, almost furtively, with no blare of trumpets and -no tossing of torches. Men who were wise saw in him -a thing that was sometimes a saint, sometimes a mean, -contriving Jew, often a firebrand, more often still a -beauty-loving fool. Brave enough in battle, and a -clean liver, yet the grim, animal energy of his father might -have served him better than his own flickering and inconstant -brilliancy. Henry could delight in the colour -of a painted window, and he had the heart of a sentimental -woman. In one thing alone he may have been of use, -for his follies taught the stronger son to be warned by -the mistakes of a weak father. Henry made war -against the spirit of liberty stirring in the heart of a -great people. Edward the Strong was wiser in knowing -the nature of his own strength.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Marpasse nudged Denise, and pulled her hood forward -over her face.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“We have seen enough,” she said; “they are to hunt -swine to-morrow! Good, very good, let them beware -of the boar’s tusks.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>They made their way back towards the gate, and St. -Pancras, kind saint, blessed them, for they escaped unscathed -out of the place. And coming out to the cool -darkness that covered the downs, they sat down side -by side to wait for the dawn.</p> - -<div><h1 class='nobreak'>CHAPTER XXXIX</h1></div> - -<p class='pindent'>Marpasse was up as soon as the first grey light began -to spread above the hills, and it was possible for them -to see their way. Denise had passed the night, lying -with her head in Marpasse’s lap, and sleeping soundly -despite her promise to remain awake. Marpasse -had smiled, and let her sleep, trusting to her own -ears and eyes to warn her of the approach of any -peril.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>They were on the move while the land was still half -in shadow, for Marpasse was as eager as any man to -let Earl Simon know the truth about the King. Standing -and looking back on Lewes as the dawn increased, -Marpasse could gauge how cheaply the King and his -captains held their enemy. There were Gascons too -with Henry, and the Gascons should have known what -manner of man they had to deal with in Earl Simon. -Yet the green slopes of the downs, gleaming with dew -as the golden light of the dawn began to play on them, -were utterly deserted. The King’s host lay snoring -after its debauch, without a single troop of horse to -patrol the hills. Only on the hill that was afterwards -called Mount Harry could Marpasse distinguish what -appeared to be a solitary sentinel. And he, too, was -lying like a grey stone on the hillside, asleep at his post -while the sun made the east splendid.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Marpasse clapped her hands.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“The fools!” she said; “come, there is no time to -lose. We ought to bear more yonder towards the west. -They will be on the watch for us. I know of one man -who will have been awake all night.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>She looked at Denise and saw her redden.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Give him one kiss, heart of mine,” she said, “for -a man fights the better with his woman’s kiss upon his -mouth.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Then, it will be the last, Marpasse,” she retorted.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Bah, have you had him killed already!”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“It will be the last whatever happens,” said Denise -sadly. “Do you think that I would let him make so poor -a bargain.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Marpasse would have taken her to task for showing -such hypersensitive self-consciousness, had not a horseman -appeared above the crest of a low hill, and come -galloping down into the freshness of the May morning. -Marpasse looked at him as he came up, and the man’s -face shone in the sunlight. He was out of the saddle, -and standing by Denise, as though it was not easy for -him to keep his hands from touching her.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Marpasse laughed, and looked brown and joyous.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“You see, lording,” she said, “I have brought her -back fresh as a white may bough.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>None the less the may bough had a rich colour. -Marpasse turned her back on them, and looked intently -towards Lewes.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Lording,” she said, “I give you while I count fifty. -There is no time to lose, for the King means to fight -to-day.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Whether she wished it or not, Denise found her -hands in Aymery’s. He stood and looked into her eyes, -and neither of them said a word.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Ten,” quoth Marpasse.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Aymery’s face came nearer to Denise’s.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“My desire,” he said, “if I live through it, I would -have your heart for mine.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Denise had gone red at first, but she was as white -now as her shift.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Lord,” she said, “I cannot.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Bah! Twenty!” called Marpasse.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Aymery’s eyes were like the pleading eyes of a dog. -He remembered what Marpasse had said to him. Yet -despite her vigorous counsel the great love in him made -him reverent.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Why <span class='it'>cannot</span>?” he asked her simply.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>She looked up at him and her eyes swam with tears.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Because of—of the pride in me, because of all that -has happened.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Fool, kiss her! Thirty!” murmured Marpasse.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Aymery still held Denise’s hands. Yet he was looking -beyond her towards the town hazy with the golden mist -of the morning.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“It was I who brought it on you,” he said.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>He felt Denise shudder, and the impulse mastered -him, he drew her to him, and kissed her upon the -mouth. She did not resist, but her mouth was cold, -and her eyes troubled. Gaillard’s shadow seemed to -come between them.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Forty,” called Marpasse, “and a buxom age for a -woman.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Aymery let go of Denise’s hands. He stood with -bowed head, looking into her face.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Whatever God wills to-day,” he said, “remember -the words that I have spoken.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Fifty,” trilled Marpasse. “I will see to it, lording. -Up on your horse, my gallant. They are all in a drunken -sleep yonder at Lewes, and there is not a man of them -on the watch.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>She turned, and glanced sharply from Aymery to -Denise. And the wet, passionate trouble in Denise’s -eyes betrayed to Marpasse how things were tending. -It was best to leave the tenderness to ripen of itself -that day, for none but a woman understands a woman’s -heart.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Aymery was in the saddle. His man’s face had grown -tense and keen, the face of the strenuous fighter who -puts softer things aside. And Marpasse loved him for -that hawk’s look of his, and the way he spread his pinions -to the wind.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Simon is marching through the Newick woods,” -he said; “if he can but come in time, he can seize and -take the ground that pleases him.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>He looked down at Denise, and Marpasse understood -the look.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Ride, lording,” she said, “leave us to follow.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Aymery drew his sword, and kissed the blade.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Denise!” and wheeling his horse he went away at -a gallop.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>De Montfort had the news soon after dawn that May -morning as his host came streaming through the woods -of Newick. Sending forward a company of knights and -men-at-arms under young De Clare and William de Monchesny, -Simon followed on with the main body, climbing -the narrow coombe that led to the chalk ridge running -westwards from Lewes town. The vanguard had found -Marpasse’s solitary sentinel still asleep on the hillside, -and they woke him roughly, and laughed at his gaping -and astonished face. Meanwhile the main host gained -the ridge, and pouring on steadily in the morning sunshine, -did not halt their banners till they could see the bell tower -of the Priory of St. Pancras.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Simon, who had been carried in a litter through the -Newick woods because of a wrenched tendon in the leg, -mounted his horse, and rode out in front of the ranks. -Standing in the stirrups he spoke a few brave words to -hearten his men, pointed to the white cross he wore, -and commended himself and the host to God.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“God, and the Cross,” the shout came back to him.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Some knelt, others prostrated themselves, with arms -outspread, and kissed the earth. The King would have -to fight an army of zealots that morning.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>De Montfort soon had his battle in order. He divided -his host into three main bodies, each holding one of the -promontories or spurs into which the chalk ridge broke -on the side towards Lewes. On the northern spur that -stretched towards the castle stood the Londoners under -Nicholas de Segrave. Young Gilbert de Clare had the -centre, and with him were John Fitz-John and William -de Monchesny and the pick of the Barons’ host. On -the southern spur were De Montfort’s two sons, Guy -and Henry, and with them Humphrey de Bohun and -John de Burgh. Simon himself remained with the -reserve, and he had called about him some of the men -whom he could trust to the last blow, men whom he -could weld together, and hurl like rock into the fight, -to beat back a charge or to tear a passage. Aymery and -Waleran de Monceaux were with Earl Simon, knee to -knee, and speaking hardly at all. To deceive the King, -De Montfort’s litter was packed with certain London -merchants who had plotted against the cause, and set -with the Earl’s standard on the higher ground towards -the west. There also was stationed the baggage. Young -William le Blund had command of the guard.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The Barons’ men, resting in their places after a nine -miles’ march, and quietly making a meal, were able to -watch at their leisure and to their own comfort the scurry -and alarm in the town and Priory below. The King’s -host ran to arms amid infinite confusion. Trumpets -blew, bells rang, banners went tossing hither and thither -like bright clothes blown abroad by the wind. Something -suspiciously like a panic had seized some of the less -disciplined troops camped about the Priory. Knights -and captains who had scrambled into their battle harness, -had to ride in among their men and beat courage into -them with the flat of the sword. Prince Edward, who -had the flower of knighthood with him in the castle, -was the first to take the field. They came pouring out -from the town and the castle, a gorgeous cataract of -heavily-armed men, surcoats ablaze, shields flashing -gules and or, azure, argent, and vert; pennons jigging, -banners aslant from gilded banner staffs. Their van -curled like a brilliant billow carrying the masts of many -ships, and flecked with steel for foam. The great, -grotesque war helmets were like the masks of strange -creatures called up by a magician’s wand. Their -trumpets rang out cheerily, sending a thrill through the -hearts of Simon’s men. The Londoners, who faced this -mass of lords and knights, and burly free-lances, began -to talk too much, and to give each other orders.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Denise and Marpasse were with the baggage behind -De Montfort’s standard. They had climbed into a -waggon, and could see a great part of the field stretched -out before them. Dark columns were pouring up from -the Priory, and Marpasse, who was watching them, caught -Denise by the arm.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Look yonder, they have hoisted the Red Dragon.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The whole of Simon’s host had seen it also, for a long -sullen roar rose like that of a wave breaking upon -shingle.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“What does the red banner mean?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Mean!” and Marpasse bit her lips in her excitement; -“death to all, no prisoners, and no quarter if -the King wins. That is the song of the Red Dragon.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Denise said nothing. Marpasse glanced at her with -a sudden, sidelong stare.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“You will not grudge him that one kiss,” she said, -“for to-night we may go a-searching for dead friends by -torchlight.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The two dragons of war were trailing their coils -nearer to one another. The King’s red banner came -tossing up the slope, he himself riding before it, holding -his shield aloft with the lions of gold thereon.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Simon, <span class='it'>je vous défie</span>!”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>That was his cry that morning, a cry that his men -took up, and screamed at the silent masses that watched -and waited on the slopes above. The royal host was -flushed now and confident, trusting in their numbers -and in the great lords whose banners blew everywhere.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Edward the Prince was the firebrand that morning. -He was pricking his horse to and fro like a mad boy, -and his lips were bloody under his great helmet. For -he had the Londoners before him, those Londoners who -had thrown offal and foul words at his mother. The son -had taken a vow to wipe out those words with blood.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Trumpets rang out on the King’s right. Edward -threw his spear into the air, caught it, and stood up in -the stirrups.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Death to the dogs! At the gallop, sirs, come.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>He was away, a splendid and furious figure, with -many thousand horses trampling at his heels. The iron -ranks roared, and rocked and thundered. Those who -watched saw a tossing sea of horses’ heads, a whirl of -hoofs tearing the grass, a mist of slanted spears, a confusion -of grotesque heads bending behind painted shields. -The mass plunged in on the Londoners like a rock that -falls with a deep sob into the sea. There was no submerging -of that mass of steel, and flesh, and leather. -It went in and through as a fire leaps through dry corn, -terrible in its red ruin, unquenchable and splendid.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Marpasse, on her waggon, caught her breath, and held -it. Simon’s left wing was wavering. Its spears went -down in long swathes, and did not rise again. Black -puffs of panic started out from the rear of the shaken mass, -and spread like smoke over the green hillside.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“The Londoners have had enough! The fools always -suffered from too much tongue. Dirty dogs, run, run, -the devil is at your heels.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>She had hold of Denise’s arm, and Denise drew her -breath in with a short, sharp sound, for Marpasse’s nails -had made blood marks under the skin. But Marpasse -never so much as noticed that she had hurt Denise. -Her heart was a man’s heart as she watched the Earl’s -left wing streaming away in rout with the mailed knights -and men-at-arms scudding through it, and spearing the -burghers as they ran. Away down the slope of Offham -Hill, and across the level towards Hamsey and Barcombe -went the tide of slaughter. The flying Londoners trailed -a fatal lure for Edward the Prince that morning. The -paradox proved true in the main, that by running away -they won Earl Simon the battle, for Edward hunted them -for a league and a half, wiping out the insults they had -thrown at his mother. And while he trampled the Londoners -into the grass, and drove many of them into the -river, Earl Simon won the battle of Lewes, and taught -Prince Edward a lesson in the self-restraint of war.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The reckless assurance that possessed the King’s -army betrayed itself in an incident that followed the -routing of Simon’s left wing. A crowd of women had -followed on the heels of Edward’s lords and gentlemen, -their lovers of the night before. The women had come -out prepared to enjoy the battle as a spectacle, and -perhaps to gain their share of the plunder. Some of -them were mounted on mules and palfreys, others went -on foot. And no sooner had the Londoners been driven -off the field than these bona-robas came laughing and -shouting up the hill, waving their kerchiefs and making -a great to do. Most of them followed in the track of -Prince Edward’s victorious banners, though a few spread -themselves abroad to plunder the dead.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Marpasse and Denise had a distant view of all that -happened after the flight of the Londoners down Offham -Hill. They saw the massive centres of the two hosts -come to grips, and stand like two bulls with locked horns, -neither able to budge the other. Then Earl Simon’s -genius gleamed out. Reinforcing his right wing with -the reserve, he fell upon the left of the royal army under -Richard, King of the Romans, crushed and scattered it -in rout. Turning, he fell furiously with his flushed troops -on the exposed flank of the King’s centre, broke through -their ranks, and gave Gloucester’s men their opportunity.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>From that wild mêlée the royal centre streamed -away like ragged clouds driven by the wind. The green -hillsides were covered with savage and furious figures, -charging, and counter-charging with a riot of colour and -glittering harness that sank slowly towards Lewes town. -Henry, who had had his horse killed under him, and was -wounded, was dragged away in the thick of a knot of -desperate men, and carried off at a gallop to the Priory -of St. Pancras. The battle was over as a struggle between -two great masses of men. It dwindled into a series of -scattered episodes, and of wild scuffles that rose suddenly -like small dust storms, and then dispersed. A few of -the sturdier spirits fought it out before they surrendered, -happier in their valour than the King of the Romans -who took refuge in a windmill and was besieged by a -mocking and exultant mob till he delivered up his sword -to Sir John de Befs. The fighting flowed in scattered -trickles down to Lewes town, the west gate was taken -by assault, though the King’s men held out in the castle -and in the Priory of St. Pancras.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Now those about De Montfort’s standard were so -taken up with watching the rout of the King’s army -that they were caught open-mouthed when one of the -last episodes burst on them like a thunderclap. There -was a shout, the scream of a trumpet, a quivering of -the earth under the thundering hoofs of galloping cavalry. -Prince Edward was riding back from the slaughter of -the Londoners, assuming the battle won, having spent -precious hours in hunting down mere lads amid the windings -of the Ouse. He and his men burst in among the -waggons and the baggage, hot and bloody, their horses -covered with sweat. And since Simon’s standard and -litter were there, they thought they had him in their -hands.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Young William le Blund was cut down under De Montfort’s -banner, and his men slain and scattered. The servants -and camp-followers fluttered and flew like frightened -chickens in a farmyard. De Montfort’s litter was overturned, -and the London merchants dragged out by the -heels, and put to the sword despite their babblings and -their protestations. It was shouted abroad that Simon -was hiding somewhere amid the baggage, and the camp -was turned into chaos, men tearing the loads out of the -waggons, thrusting their swords into trusses of fodder, -yelping like dogs about a fox’s hole. The women who -had followed them shared in the scramble. And since -that traitor Simon was not to be found, the whole rout -took to plundering the baggage, not troubling to discover -that the battle had been lost down by Lewes town.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Marpasse had dragged Denise out of the empty -waggon, and set to at once to pull bales out of a cart.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Play the game.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>She had to scream at Denise because of the uproar.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Play the game. Swear, curse, be one of them.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Denise fell to, and helped Marpasse. The big woman -had whipped out her knife, and slit the sacking of the -bale she had dragged down over the tail board. The -bale contained nothing more than rolls of white -cloth.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Marpasse spat on it, and swore, for other men and -women were crowding up.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“White bibs for the fools, curse them! May Simon’s -corpse be a bloodier colour.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>She seized Denise by the wrist, and dragged her off -as though to hunt for richer spoil. But in the thick -of the scramble she ran against the chest of a white -horse that came out from behind one of the waggons. -Marpasse saved herself by holding to Denise.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The rider on the white horse broke into a shout of -laughter.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Great, fat sheep, where are you running?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>And Marpasse stood open-mouthed, for it was Isoult, -Isoult in a man’s hauberk, and red surcoat, her black -hair bundled up under a steel cap.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Black cat!”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Isoult reached down, caught Marpasse by the cloak, -drew her in, and kissed her.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“You big brown devil, how I love the smell of you. -And sister Denise, too, with all the fun of the fair.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>She tossed her head and laughed, and shouted to a -knight on horseback who was watching his men scrambling -over a coffer full of plate.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Lording, come you here. I have found your red -head for you. Though you will not be wanting her -now, unless you would like a touch of my knife.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The knight turned in the saddle; he had taken off -his great helmet, both Denise and Marpasse knew him -at the first glance.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Gaillard!”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Marpasse took Denise by the hand, and kept very -close to Isoult’s white horse.</p> - -<div><h1 class='nobreak'>CHAPTER XL</h1></div> - -<p class='pindent'>Aymery had searched the hillsides that day for a blue -surcoat shining with golden suns, but since Gaillard had -charged among Prince Edward’s spears, he was miles -away on the heels of the Londoners while the men of -the White Cross were driving the King back in rout upon -Lewes town.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>But Simon had not forgotten to look for the return -of the Prince. He had gathered the pick of his knights -and men-at-arms together, and when they brought him -news of the plundering of his camp, he smiled and bided -his time. Steady and motionless, a mass of steel half -hidden by a rise in the ground, De Montfort’s cavalry -waited in the evening light for the coming of the Prince.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>And a riotous and disordered troop it was that marched -back towards Lewes after plundering the Barons’ camp. -Edward and his lords seemed to have accepted their -victory as assured, and never doubted but that the White -Cross had been trodden into the dust. The scene that -stretched before them, flooded by the evening sunlight, -was deceptive in the extreme. De Warenne’s banner -still flew from the castle, and that of the King from the -bell tower of St. Pancras. There were scattered bodies -of armed men moving over the slopes and about the town, -and the dead strewing the field made no confession of -victory or defeat.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>It was then that the most tragic thing of the day -happened, for the mob of fighting men under the Prince, -marching as they pleased, had some hundreds of women -mingled with them, unfortunates who had thought of -nothing but making a joyous night of it after the great -victory, and the plunder that they had won. De Montfort’s -mass of knights and men-at-arms, rising suddenly -like a grey sea out of the twilight, came on at a gallop, -fresh and lusty after a long rest. Isoult was one of those -gay queans, riding with Gaillard’s arm about her, chattering -and laughing to keep her man amused. Following -these two, half as comrades, half as prisoners, came Denise -and Marpasse, mounted upon cart-horses, that had been -taken from the Barons’ camp. Luckily for them they -were in the rear of Prince Edward’s host or they would -have been trampled down at the first charge, as were -many of the women.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Marpasse and Denise were riding close together, -watching Gaillard as sheep might watch a dangerous dog, -and waiting their chance to break away in the gathering -darkness. Although he had an arm about Isoult’s body, -Gaillard’s eyes wandered round towards Denise, stealing -half-furtive glances at her, as though he were already tired -of Isoult, and suffered his passions to embrace a contrast. -Marpasse saw how it was with Gaillard, and hated him -for Denise’s sake, and because she could tell what manner -of man he was, insolent, lustful, ever ready to throw aside -things that had sated him. He was like a great lean -spider with his long legs and his sinewy arms, and Marpasse -could have stabbed him for the way he held Isoult.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>They were crowded together, and Marpasse and Denise -saw nothing of the storm that was tearing down upon -the Prince’s following. A strange silence fell suddenly -on that mass of humanity, broken here and there by a -loud and querulous cry. A moment ago there had been -nothing but singing, shouting, and coarse jests.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>A shudder seemed to pass through the whole mob. -It wavered, stood still, swayed to and fro. Marpasse -heard women shrieking. Then a roar of voices rose, -the furious voices of men caught at a disadvantage with -death rushing upon them like a flood. Utter confusion -spread, trumpets screaming like frightened beasts, spears -swaying this way and that. Then the shock came. -The bodies of men were thrown in the air like stones -torn from a sea wall by a furious wave.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Marpasse saw Gaillard rise in his stirrups, draw his -sword, and turn a bleak, wolf-like profile towards them. -He caught his battle helmet from the saddle bow, dipped -his head into it, and came up a grotesque monster with -a face like a gaping frog. Marpasse had a vision of sloped -spears pouring down on them through the golden haze -of the evening. Then chaos seemed to come again, and -the world crumbled with the rushing of many waters -and the rending of solid rock.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Marpasse had a glimpse of Denise clinging to her -horse that had reared in terror. Gaillard had left Isoult, -and was trying to clear a path with his sword, making -his horse swerve to and fro in the press. Then Marpasse -had no sense left in her, but the sense of falling, of being -thrown hither and thither, of being trampled on and -hurt. A horse crashed to the ground close to her and -lay still, and with the blind instinct of the moment, -Marpasse flung herself down and huddled close under the -beast’s body as an Arab shelters behind a camel when a -dust storm sweeps the desert. Yet with swiftness and -tumult and fierce anguish the storm passed, and was -gone. Marpasse found herself peering up over the horse’s -body, and looking at a splendid sky against which dark -figures struggled together as on the edge of an abyss.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Marpasse scrambled up, wondering how she had come -out of the storm so easily, and stood and stared stupidly -about her, dazed for the moment by the violence of it -all. A tempest of horsemen was rolling away over the -hillside like a grey cloud curling over a mountain. Broken -bodies lay everywhere, some still squirming like worms -that have been trodden under foot; others motionless, -contorted, and grotesque, like bodies thrown at random -from a high tower. And where life and noise and movement -had been but a few minutes before, a slow silence -seemed to ooze in and to stagnate under the melancholy -of the coming night.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Marpasse’s wits came back to her, and she looked round -for any sign of those who had been with her a few moments -ago. Gaillard had gone, Denise also, like people swept -off a rock by an ocean wave.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Looking about her, Marpasse saw a white horse lying -dead upon the hillside, and something that moved half -under and half beside it, with the whimpering cry of a -child. Marpasse stumbled forward, for one foot had been -bruised, and found Death sitting upon the carcase of the -white horse. Isoult lay there with the beast’s body upon -her legs, and her back broken. She could stretch out -her hands to Marpasse, with a shuddering spasm of cursing -that was piteous and futile.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Curse Simon, and his bulls, curse Gaillard, the -great coward! I am done for, and this white hog, this -devil’s bitch lies on my legs like a rock. Hold off, great -fool. Do I want to be pulled about when my back’s -broken, and my ribs are pricking my liver.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Marpasse tried to drag her clear of the horse, but -Isoult’s screams and curses sobered her. She saw that -Isoult was near her end, crushed like a wild cat in the -steel jaws of a trap. The girl, too, had the spiteful valour -of a cat, and pushed Marpasse’s hands away when she -tried to fondle her.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“None of your spittle,” she said, biting her lips with -the anguish in her; “it is jolly, I tell you, to be trampled -into the dirt! Just the sort of end I was made for. -Who cares? Oh, yes, I shall go straight to hell.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>She chattered on at random, laughing, sneering, and -biting her lips. Marpasse sat by her, her heart full of -inarticulate and half-angry pity.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“What are you sitting there for, great fool? There -is that red-headed Denise of yours; you left me for her; -I know, Gaillard told me the story. Oh yes, you had -what you wanted, Messire Gaillard, you held me in your -arms, devil; you saw me trampled on, and rode after -the red head. God curse you, my Gaillard, you bundle -of burning straw in a body of clay. Tell me, Marpasse, -are not we women accursed fools?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>She began to curse Gaillard bitterly under her breath. -Marpasse saw a change come over her, for she seemed to -grow thinner and greyer in the dusk. A great sob -gathered in Marpasse’s throat. She fell a-weeping, and -hung dearly over Isoult.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“There, child, what does it avail? Lie in my arms -now, and fall asleep.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Isoult ceased her cursing suddenly, and shuddered a -little as she felt Marpasse’s tears falling upon her face. -Her black eyes became dark, and very wistful.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“What are you weeping for, great fool?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Marpasse hung over her, and smoothed her hair.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“You were a little slip of a thing when we first were -friends,” she said, “and you often slept in my bosom. -We had rough days and rough weather together. All -the roads were rough for us, and so is the last -track.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Isoult lay very still, though her cold hands crept up, -and rested in the warmth between Marpasse’s breasts. -She grew very grey and feeble, and blood came into her -mouth. Isoult spat it out, and looked up at Marpasse.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“What a fool of a world,” she said hoarsely; “but -if I could work a miracle, I would just mend you, and -set you on your feet. And if God and His saints are -harder hearted, let them keep their pride, I would rather -sup with the devil.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Isoult gave a great sigh.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“How could I help it all,” she said; “I was branded -when I was born, and I was no man’s child. No one -ever taught me prayers, or fed me on white bread. And -when I was kicked, I learnt to scratch back.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Marpasse lay down beside her, and in a little while the -end came. Nor did Isoult die easily, but with pain and -revolt, and blood choking her throat. Marpasse put her -arms about her, and held her till she died. And with the -passing of Isoult’s spirit, something seemed to break in -the heart of Marpasse.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The dusk deepened, and the living woman was sitting -there with her head between her hands, and staring at -the dead woman’s face, when a gaunt man in the dress of -a priest came by, and seeing them, turned aside. He -had a wooden cross in his hand, an axe thrust into his -girdle, and a buckler at his back. If Grimbald had -served the White Cross with his axe that day down -amid the windings of the Ouse, he had put the iron aside -now, and taken to compassion.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>He spoke to Marpasse, but she did not hear him. -Grimbald touched her on the shoulder.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Peace, sister,” he said.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Marpasse jumped up and looked Grimbald over in -the dusk. Her glance lighted on his cross.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“What is the use of that,” she said; “bah, take it -away, my brother!”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Grimbald nodded his head. Marpasse spread her -arms, and then pointed to Isoult.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“See, there, what has God to say to such a thing? -When we are born in a ditch, and kept in a ditch, and -kicked into a ditch at the end, what has the Cross to -do with it?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Grimbald knelt down quite solemnly, and looked at -Isoult.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“What a child! Who said that she had sinned, -sister?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Marpasse’s mouth was full of scoffing.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“We have stones thrown at us. We are too black -for the good folk to soil their hands in washing us.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Grimbald turned his face to her, and his eyes shone.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“The Lord said ‘let those who are without sin cast -the first stone.’ What do you make of those words, -sister?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“That the devil must put his tongue in his cheek -when the good people go to church,” said Marpasse.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Grimbald got up, and went and stood in front of -Marpasse. They looked each other in the eyes like two -sturdy souls sure of hearing the truth.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Do you see her in eternal flames, sister?” asked -the man.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“On my oath, I do not. The child had good in her, -when people did not thrust thorns into her face.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Grimbald nodded his head solemnly.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I would have the flaying of all hypocrites,” he -said, “as for such lives, I would mend them in -heaven.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“You will put up a prayer, Father. I have money.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Grimbald almost glowered at her.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Will my tongue do any better for the stuff! Help -me to pull the child away. We can find her a clean grave -somewhere. As for my prayers, God knows the ways of -the world.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Marpasse had an impetuous heart. She took Grimbald -by the girdle.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I could kiss that mouth of yours, Father,” she -said, “because it talks out straight, and is the mouth of -a man.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The river Ouse took toll that evening from the King’s -host, drawing many a rider into its deeps, while the bogs -and the morasses opened their slimy mouths for food. -The Prince had saved a portion of his following from the -rout upon the hillside, and breaking away he found the -west gate of Lewes held against him, and was compelled -to gallop round the town to join the King at the Priory -of St. Pancras. The greater number of the royalist -leaders had fled, riding for the castle of Pevensey, whence -they could cross into France. The King’s brothers, -William de Valence and Guy de Lusignan, were galloping -for their lives, and with them a crowd of adventurers -and free-lances who knew that they would be hanged -on the forest trees if the country folk could lay their -hands on them. Hugh Bigot and Earl de Warenne were -with the fugitives. The King of the Romans and his -son, the Scotch nobles, many English lords, and a crowd -of lesser men had been taken by Earl Simon.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Meanwhile Denise had been saved by the terror of -her horse from being trampled and crushed like Black -Isoult. The beast had broken through, and fled at a -gallop, with Denise lying out like a child along his neck. -There were other horses galloping about her, some with -riders, many with empty saddles, and one common instinct -seemed to shepherd the beasts together, so that Denise -found herself swept along in the thick of the herd.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Lying upon her nag’s neck, with her cheek laid against -the coarse coat, and her hair blowing in the wind, Denise -became conscious at last of a black horse galloping beside -hers, stride for stride. At first she saw only the beast’s -head with its red nostrils, and ill-tempered ears laid back, -and the whites of its eyes showing. Then a man’s -figure drew into view, and she had a glimpse of a blue -surcoat with a blur of gold thereon, and a great iron -helmet that gaped like a frog. Denise was no longer -a piece of wreckage carried along in the thick of the -flood. The black horse seemed to know his master’s -mind, and began to guide Denise’s nag as one beast -will guide and rule another.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The man, who had been sitting stiffly in the saddle, -bent forward and caught the trailing halter of Denise’s -horse.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Hold fast, Sanctissima,” he said, “we shall soon be -out of the mill race.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Denise knew that it was Gaillard, but fate carried -her at the gallop, and she was too conscious of the -wind in her ears and the way the ground rushed -under her.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“If I can save you a broken neck,” he went on, -shouting the words through the black cleft in the great -helmet, “I shall deserve your forgiveness. The fools -yonder are rushing like a drove of pigs for the river. -They will drown one another. We will take our own -road.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Denise felt like one falling and falling in a dream. -There was no end to it, and she had not enough breath -in her to feel the finer, spiritual fear. It was impossible to -so much as think in the rush and welter of all those flying, -thundering shapes. Her body was taken up with holding -to the body of her horse.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>They drew clear of the main torrent at last, and went -cantering in the dusk over the rolling grassland. Gaillard -was sitting straight in the saddle, and watching a gush -of flame that had leapt up over Lewes town. The King’s -men who still held the castle, had thrown springalds of -fire down upon the houses, setting the thatch ablaze so -that the houses should not cover Simon’s men who were -crowding to the assault. The glare of the burning town -seemed an echo from the red sunset above the western -hills. A distant uproar rose into the twilight, though the -summits of the downs were solemn and still. Denise -felt her horse slacken under her now that they had -turned aside from the rush of the pursuit.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The power to think and to feel came back to her. -She escaped from the chaos of things to a consciousness -of self, and of that other self beside her. The blind -life-instinct that had carried her over the hills into -the twilight, gave place to a quick, spiritual dread of the -man at her side. She had not seen Gaillard desert -Isoult, and leave the girl to be trampled under foot. -But her own being had a passionate loathing for the -man, a loathing so great that it tempted her to throw -herself from her horse. Her broken and unconscious -body would be nothing to Gaillard, and he would -leave her as a drunkard would leave a broken and -empty jar.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Gaillard, alert and masterful, reined in suddenly as -though to listen. He had caught some sound following -them out of the dusk, but the trampling of their own -horses had smothered it, and robbed it of significance. -Gaillard kept his hold of the halter of Denise’s horse, -and towered over her as he turned in the saddle to look -back.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The ridge of a hill ran bleak and sharp against a -stretch of yellow sky. And outlined against this streak -of gold came the figure of a man riding a black horse. -He was not two hundred paces away, and Gaillard saw -him shake his sword.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Denise also saw that solitary rider black against the -sunset, and the heart leapt in her, and beat more -quickly.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Gaillard kicked in the spurs, dragging Denise’s rough -nag after him.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Hold fast,” he said, “if that fellow is after us, he -will not rob a Gascon of his supper.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>They were galloping again, rushing on into a vague -and dolorous dusk. The wind swept Denise’s hair, and -once a shout followed after them, but Gaillard kept her -horse at the gallop, and Denise was at the mercy of the -two strong beasts, and of that yet stronger beast, man. -A streak of dull silver parted the darkness in front of -them. Before Denise had understood the nature of -the thing before them, water was splashed over her, -and their horses were swimming the river.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Gaillard had not spoken a word. When they were out -of the muddy shallows and on the firm ground beyond, -he reined in, turned the horses, and looked back over -the river. An indistinct figure loomed out of the dusk -with a scamper of hoofs, and the heavy breathing of -a hard-ridden horse.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Gaillard had drawn his sword. He lifted his helmet, -and putting it on the point of his sword, stood in the -stirrups, holding sword and helmet high above his head. -Denise was near enough to see his face in the dusk. It -was half fierce, and half amused, yet wholly confident, -the face of a strong man and a libertine whose strength -made him take a bully’s joy in cheating weaker men of -their women.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Hallo, there!”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The pursuer had drawn in on the farther bank, with -his horse’s hoofs sucking the spongy grass.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Keep over there, my friend, if you value a sound -skull. I am not to be meddled with when I ride with a -gay lady.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>There was a splashing of hoofs in the shallows, and -a voice came over the river.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Denise!” it said, “is it Denise, yonder?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Gaillard looked down at her, and opened his mouth -scoffingly when she answered the man’s call.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Hallo, Golden-head, you would have a lover in your -lap, eh! We will see to it to-night, my desire. I promise -you it shall not be the fool yonder.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The water had broken into fresh ripples that came -lapping among the sedges. Aymery’s horse was swimming -the river.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Gaillard dropped his great helmet on to his shoulders, -and holding the halter in the same big hand as held his -sword, turned the horses, and rode off so close to Denise -that his knee touched hers.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Grace before meat,” he said, laughing under his -helmet, “your man is probably clumsy enough. I -know how to deal with such a windmill.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>He dragged Denise’s horse to a canter, and turning -in the saddle, saw Aymery floundering up through the -crackling shadows.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Some people are in a great hurry to get to heaven,” -said Gaillard; “it is a pity, Sanctissima, that you have -such a head of hair, and such a body. They are things -that make a man cut other men’s throats.”</p> - -<div><h1 class='nobreak'>CHAPTER XLI</h1></div> - -<p class='pindent'>The plunge through the cold Ouse freshened Aymery’s -horse, and Gaillard, who rode only to put some miles -between him and Simon’s host at Lewes, heard the -rhythm of the hoofs behind him drawing ever nearer. The -knowledge that he was chased by one man did not bustle -the Gascon in the least, for Gaillard knew his own strength, -and had never taken a thrashing. The day’s battle had -beggared him, and his brother adventurers, for the lords -who had hired them would soon be scattered over the -sea. Moreover Gaillard remembered De Montfort in -Gascony, and that Earl Simon had dealt very roughly -with hired gentlemen of the sword who meddled where -they had no cause. Yet Gaillard did not snap his jaws -at the chance that had beggared him. He felt in fettle, -and ready for a scrimmage, arrogantly confident in himself, -and with sufficient animal spite in the mood to -put him in an excellent temper. He would thrash the -fool who followed them, have his way with Denise, and -make Pevensey on the morrow, and sail with some of -the King’s lords who were seized with a desire to visit -France.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Had Gaillard had a glimpse of the face of the man -who followed him, he might have taken the escapade -more grimly, and talked less of “Sussex boors who could -better fix a spiggot in a barrel than handle a sword.” -The Gascon could not keep the froth from the surface. -Loquacity was a habit of his when he had anything -strenuous in hand. He gabbled away to Denise as they -cantered on in the dusk, keeping a sharp eye however -on the ground before him, very wide awake in spite of -his loquacity.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Come, now, Sanctissima,” he said, “tell me when -you are tired of your horse, and we will stop and talk -to the gentleman behind us. A gallop at night makes -one sleep more soundly. We shall find a bed somewhere, -and no one shall wake you early if you would play the -sluggard.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Denise, listening to the rhythm of hoofs behind them -in the dusk, hated Gaillard for his flamboyant spirit -and his arrogance. She held her breath for Aymery’s -sake. If Gaillard should kill him! If she should see -him beaten, and crushed! She cast frightened brown -eyes over Gaillard’s figure, and hated him the more -because he seemed so big and lusty.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Hallo, we are coming up fast behind there! -The gentleman is very hot, and in a great hurry, -Sanctissima! Do you see a wood over yonder. We -can make a bed under the trees when we have had -our talk with Messire Mead-horn. Beer, Sanctissima, -makes these boors hot in the head and quarrelsome.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Denise felt the canter slacken, for Gaillard was drawing -in. A swift and inarticulate horror, a vivid sense of -what was to follow, seized on her. These two men -would be at each other’s throats. And in the dusk and -the silence of that night in May she might see lust conquer -and strangle love.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The dull plodding of hoofs behind them beat a measure -in her brain. She would have cried out to Aymery, -and could not. And on that hard, brown face under -the helmet she imagined a callous and self-assured -smile.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>They neared the trees, masses of fresh foliage -hanging motionless under the quiet sky. It would -be peaceful, and odorous, and silent in among those -trees. Yet their black plumes had a sinister sadness -for Denise. They were so calm, and black, and -motionless, with never the sound of a night wind in -them.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Gaillard reined in abruptly, threw a sharp glance -over his shoulder, and then pushed Denise roughly from -her horse.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Try to run, my minion, and I will ride over you,” -he said, “no fool of a mesne lord shall stand in the way -of it.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>He still had her horse by the halter, and Denise saw -him jerk it, so that the beast tossed its head. And the -brutal thing that Gaillard did sickened her to the heart, -so that she stood still with wide eyes and quivering -mouth. For Gaillard had slashed the horse’s throat, -and Denise saw the poor beast rear, break free, and then -sink on its knees with a smothered sound that was all -too human.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Denise forgot even the maimed horse with the coming -of Aymery out of the dusk. Gaillard had circled round -so that he stood between Denise and the trees. He had -begun to sing some southern song, throwing his sword -from hand to hand, his voice reverberating in his -helmet.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Denise stood and watched and waited as though her -whole soul had withdrawn into her eyes. Aymery was -quite close to her, yet she neither moved nor spoke to -him. Perhaps she was dazed by the imminent dread -of what would follow.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Gaillard broke off his song, drew his shield forward, -and crowed like a cock.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Good evening, my little gentleman,” he said; -“there you are, white cross and all. I will put a red -mark on that cross of yours. Ladies are always pleased -by a red rose.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Aymery said nothing, but glanced aside at Denise. -Then Gaillard came cantering up, tossing his sword, -and crowing in his helmet.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Up with your shield, my friend, I have a lady to -love, and the night is ready.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Denise watched them, half in a stupor. The men -were sword to sword, shield to shield, and horse to horse. -Confusedly, like one half asleep, she heard Gaillard -prattling as they began the tussle, a grim and half playful -babble, like the chatter of a waterfall when men are -struggling in the pool beneath.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Soon, however, Gaillard grew very silent, save for -a sudden and spasmodic oath. To Denise there seemed -nothing in the world but two strong men lashing at each -other from the backs of two ever moving and circling -horses. Then in the thick of the clangour, and the heavy -breathing, she heard Gaillard give a sharp, fierce cry, -the cry of a strong man cut beneath his harness. A -horse swerved, stumbled, and rolled over. Whose, -Denise could not tell for the moment, in the whirl of the -tussle, and the darkness.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>It was Gaillard’s horse, but he was free of the beast, -up, and no longer the complacent sworder, but a man -fighting with the valour of a beast that fights to live. -He blundered against the other’s horse, grappled a leg, -and twisted Aymery out of the saddle. They were on -foot now, still close to her, dodging, striking, circling round -and round. Denise could hear the sound of their breathing -above the rattle of blows, and the dull rustling of -feet.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Then she saw a man stumble, jerk forward, and -recover though cut across the shoulders with a sword. -A head was bare, the great helmet had fallen, and a white -face showed in its stead. Denise knew Gaillard by his -greater height. His shield was up, sure as a pent-house -at the foot of a wall, and Denise would have crushed -that shield had the power of a Greek goddess been hers -that moment.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Gaillard had blood on his face, she saw the -dark smirch thereof above the eyes and down -one cheek. A broken shield was thrown aside, -Aymery’s, and fell like a dead crow with flapping -wings into the grass. Gaillard sprang on him. There -was a meeting of swords, a moment’s locking of the -blades, a swift up-thrust by the one that first broke -free. Again Denise heard that great cry of Gaillard’s -with more of the roar of the wild beast in it than -before.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>He rolled from side to side as though drunk, and -then throwing aside his shield, made a blind and blundering -charge with an upheave of the sword. Aymery -sprang to the right with a twist of the body, using -that swing of the body for the sweep of the counter-blow. -Gaillard sprawled, spun round, caught Aymery’s -ankle, and dragged him to earth. For a while there -was a confused struggle in the grass. Denise heard a -man groaning, and straining like a giant trying to lift -a rock that is crushing him into the ground. Then -there was the sharp sound of steel wrenching its way -through steel. The end had come, and one of the -men lay still.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Why the horror of the thing should take possession -of her as it did Denise did not consider. She saw the -wood, dark, cool, and still, before her, and fled into -it, seeing nothing but hearing ever Gaillard’s cry. -And though she fell often, stumbling against the -great trees in the darkness, she ran like one without -reason, not noticing whether anyone followed, and that -the silence of the place closed on her like water over -a stone.</p> - -<div><h1 class='nobreak'>CHAPTER XLII</h1></div> - -<p class='pindent'>From a chance word that Marpasse let fall while they -were burying Isoult, Grimbald discovered all that she -knew concerning Aymery and Denise, and he made her -tell the story. Marpasse had been breaking up the -ground with a sword, and Grimbald using a shield for a -shovel, scooped a shallow trough for the body wrapped -in its scarlet surcoat. That labour together over the -grave, and the way Grimbald made her talk of herself -and Denise, brought Marpasse and the parish priest to a -sudden sense of comradeship.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>With Isoult laid to rest they trudged off together to -Lewes town, but could gain no sure news of Aymery there, -though Grimbald found a Sussex man, Geoffrey de St. -Leger, who swore that the Knight of the Hawk’s Claw -had ridden in that last charge against Prince Edward’s -company. Grimbald and Marpasse had already searched -the ground in the dusk without coming upon Denise’s -grey gown. A truce had been called, and torches were -moving to and fro over the battlefield like corpse candles -in the darkness.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The parish priest and the bona-roba watched the -night out under a hedge, and Marpasse fell asleep while -Grimbald watched. They were up before dawn, however, -and breaking bread as they went, they searched the -scarred track along which Simon’s knights had ridden in -pursuit of the flying royalists. Grimbald bent over -many a body in the twilight, and though there were -women lying dead and stiff upon the grass, Denise was -not among them, nor did they find Aymery among the -slain.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The dawn was just breaking when they came to the -river; grey fog hung there; and it was very still. The -dead were here also, horse and man, and Grimbald saw -that the richer bodies had been plundered, even stripped -naked and left upon the grass. Their search had lessened -the chances, save what the grey river might be hiding -under its shroud. But Grimbald chose to be an optimist -that morning, and swore, as though he had seen the -thing in crystal, that neither Aymery nor Denise was -under the quiet water. He chose the simplest explanation, -and put it forward so confidently that Marpasse believed -also, and fell in with his plan. Aymery had found -Denise, and taken her away with him out of reach of the -storm.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“As sure as I live,” he said, “we shall find them at -Goldspur. It is not the first time that I have prophesied -the truth.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>And Marpasse accepted Grimbald as a prophet, -and he looked the part with his gaunt face and fiery -eyes.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>They were walking towards the bridge when a splashing -sound came up the river, and a black boat glided out of -the mist, driven along by a man who wielded a long pole. -A second man was drawing in a rope, and there was -something at the end thereof, for the rope was taut and -straight, with drops of water falling from it. The first -man shipped his pole, and went to help his comrade with -the rope, nor had either of them noticed Grimbald and -Marpasse.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>A thing that glistened rose to the surface. The men -reached over, and between them, dragged the body of a -man in gilded harness into the boat. They grunted -cheerfully over the catch, and disappeared below the -gunwale. The boat lay in mid-stream, and there was -the plash of the grapnel as one of the men heaved it out -again into the river.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Grimbald held up a hand to Marpasse, slipped down -the bank, and dropped quietly into the water. A few -long strokes carried him under the boat’s stern. And -the great brown head that appeared suddenly over the -gunwale so scared the two spoilers of the dead that they -gaped at Grimbald, and lost the chance of knocking -him back into the river. The bottom of the boat was -littered with plunder from the bodies along the bank; -and one of the men was cutting the rings from the hands -of the knight they had fished up with the grapnel. Grimbald -scrambled in, axe in hand. But he looked so huge, -and fierce, and fateful in the grey of the morning that the -men jumped for it, and swam like water rats, leaving the -parish priest lord of the spoil.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Grimbald poled the boat to the bank, lifted the dead -man out, and laid him on the grass. He knelt and said -a prayer for him, while Marpasse stood on guard with the -axe, watching the two thieves who had crawled out on the -near bank and were skulking behind a bush. Grimbald -ended his prayer, and stood up and shook himself like a -great dog.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Providence is at work here,” he said; “my prophecy -will come true.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>They climbed into the boat and ferried across, watched -by the men who were waiting to recover their spoil. But -Grimbald cheated them of their desire, for he stove out -the planks with the end of the pole, and pushed the -boat out to sink in the deeper water.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Let it return to the dead,” he said. “Those rogues -shall catch no more fish to-day.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Grimbald and Marpasse set out on their five-league -trudge to Goldspur, both of them being stout walkers, -and eager to come to the end of the tale. These two -warm, rough natures were quickly in sympathy, for -Grimbald discovered the “woman” in Marpasse, and -being nothing of the Pharisee he had no exquisite dread -of soiling his robes. Marpasse talked to him on the -way as she had never talked to a man before. Grimbald -was so strong and so honest that the woman’s eyes gleamed -out at him approvingly. Isoult’s death had stirred her -deeply, following as it had on her comradeship with Denise. -Marpasse put her life in its crude and simple colours before -Grimbald’s eyes, not justifying herself, but talking as -though it helped her to talk to a priest who understood.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“It is just like climbing a ladder,” she said, “to get -inside a castle. The good people above throw stones, -and potsherds, and boiling oil. And if you get to the top—they -try to pitch you down again. If I had my way -I would have a door in the side of the world, and the -poor drabs should be let in quietly, and put out to work to -earn their bread.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Sometimes it is very dull—being good,” said Grimbald -with a twinkle.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“It is often very dreary being sinful, Father. Give -me a chance to choose, and I would have a fire-side, and -a bed, and a broom to use, and a man to cuff me—at times—if -he kissed me an hour afterwards. A smack on the -cheek does a woman a world of good.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“And a kiss on the mouth?” asked Grimbald.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Oh, that makes the puddings turn out well. And -I have a taste for puddings.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Grimbald’s prophetic instinct fulfilled itself that -morning, for they were not a mile from Goldspur village, -and following a track that ran over a stretch of heathland -between the woods, when they saw a man ride out -from a woodland way. He was not a furlong from them, -so near that they could see the red stains on the white -cross sewn to his surcoat, and the way the reins were -slack upon the horse’s neck. In fact, the horse seemed to -carry the man, and not the man to guide the horse. It -was Aymery himself, grey-faced, battered, forlorn as a -ship struggling home after a storm.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Grimbald’s long legs left Marpasse far behind. -Aymery smiled at him as a sick man smiles at the face -of a friend. He had grown gaunt and haggard in a night, -and the unshaven stubble on his chin showed black against -his pallor.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Victory at Lewes.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Grimbald took his bridle.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“And a wound—somewhere,” he said.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Wounds—plenty of them. I am tired, Grimbald—tired -as a dog.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Aymery left his horse to the priest, for it was as -much as he could do to steady himself in the saddle by -holding to the pommel with both hands. Marpasse came -to meet them, and Aymery looked at her stupidly, as -though his brain were clouded.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>A faint gleam passed across his face as he recognised -Marpasse.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I have killed him,” he said; “yes—it was on the -edge of the woods—over yonder.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>He relapsed again into a half stupor, staring at Marpasse -with eyes that seemed heavy with sleep.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Denise?” she asked him.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>He echoed her, slowly. Marpasse nodded.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Denise was with Gaillard—I killed him. She had -disappeared when we had ended it,” and he looked at -Marpasse as though it was she who was wise in the matter, -an appealing look like the appeal of a dumb child.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Grimbald gave Marpasse a most unpriestly wink.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Bed and bread,” he said in a whisper, “and good -wine to wash it down. The oil is low in the lamp. Keep -it burning.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Marpasse understood, and was all cheerfulness.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Never was I better pleased by the thought of a -corpse,” she said; “as for Denise, she was born to run -away—as I always tell her. She knows the woodways -hereabouts, Father, eh? To be sure. Madame will not -be long on the road.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Aymery was at the end of himself, and lay along his -horse’s neck, his arms hanging down on either side. -Grimbald looked fierce, being combative where death, -sickness, and the Devil were concerned.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Hum—white as a clean dish clout!”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Marpasse touched Aymery’s cheek.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Asleep,” she said.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Speak out; no metaphors.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I speak what I mean—and your long words can go -to the eel pond, Father. He is asleep. What could be -better? Gaillard, Messire Gaillard, you met your match! -And Denise—the fool—ran away!”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>She went close, kissed Aymery’s neck, and then -turned on Grimbald with a defiant glare of the eyes.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Mayn’t I kiss a brave man?” she asked.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Grimbald threw up his head and laughed.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Who said you ‘nay’?” he retorted; “you women -are in such a hurry.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Then I shall kiss you, Father!”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Will you!” quoth he grimly.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Goldspur manor house was still a mute gathering of -charred posts, though some of the lodges and the barn -had been rebuilt. Aymery was taken that day to the -priest’s house that stood on the edge of a glimmering -birch wood, whose boles rose like silver pillars above the -brown wattle fence about the church. Grimbald carried -him in in his arms, and laid him on his own bed. There -was no <span class='it'>focaria</span> or servant, and Marpasse was soon as busy -as any hearth-ward. She found the aumbry where -Grimbald kept his oil and wine, gathered sticks from -the wood lodge, lit a fire, and hung the iron pot on the -hook. Grimbald was stripping Aymery of his harness, -unfastening the gorget and greaves, peeling the heavy -hauberk off him with much trouble, and unlacing the -gambeson beneath. Marpasse came in with the wine -and the water-pot, for Grimbald had his bed in the little -room at the end of the great hall. She began to covet -and handle some of the parish priest’s vestments that -hung on pegs along the wall. Marpasse’s brown hands -made a white alb scream into strips for bandages. -Grimbald glanced round at her with philosophic -consent.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I shall never get such another,” he said.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Shall I put up an oath for you, Father?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Quiet, fool! His mother gave it me—five years -ago.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“It has washed well,” said Marpasse.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>And the alb was used to bind up Aymery’s -wounds.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Much loss of blood from a few deep flesh cuts, that -was the main mischief, and Grimbald and Marpasse soon -had him under the coverlet. He was half asleep all the -while they were handling him, heavy and stupid with -long hours in the saddle, the death tussle with Gaillard, -and lack of food. There was no epic heroism in the -episode. Aymery was put to bed like a small boy, and -the washing that Marpasse had given him had made the -illusion more complete. Beyond making him drink some -wine they did not trouble him, but left him to have his -sleep out, and wake—if God willed it—hungry.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Marpasse’s thoughts turned to Denise, but she and -Grimbald were sufficiently carnal to rejoice in a good -round meal of bread and mead and bacon. They sat at -the table with the door of the house wide open, so that -they had a glimpse of the green and mysterious world -beyond. Grimbald had little to say, and Marpasse was -very hungry, and so little overawed by a seat at a priest’s -table that her hunger walked boldly, and would not be -abashed. And Grimbald was amused by it, and commended -the healthiness of the instinct, the more so -because it proved its value in the person of a very comely -woman with a sunburnt face, clear eyes, and a mass of -tawny hair.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>They began at last to talk of Denise, and Marpasse -made Grimbald take her to the door, and point her out -the way to the beech wood where Denise had had her -cell. Grimbald could show her the wood itself, a green -cloud adrift across the blue of the May sky. Marpasse -saw to her shoes, dropped half a loaf into her bag, -and made it plain to Grimbald whither she was -going.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Birds fly back to the same haunts in the spring,” -she said; “nor do I see, Father, why you alone should be -a prophet.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Grimbald looked at her as a wise man of five and -forty looks at a mischievous yet lovable girl.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Go—and prove it,” he said; “I shall get down to -the village and send the people out to search the woods. -Not a word to them—mind you—of all that has happened -in the past.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Marpasse showed the curve of a strong brown -chin.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Am I so much a fool?” she asked.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Grimbald appeared to consider the question. He -did not give his verdict till Marpasse had reached the -gate.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Death alone saves us from being fools,” he said, and -his eyes had a seriousness as he watched her go.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Marpasse went down the hill, leaving the village on -her left, and crossing the valley, climbed the slope to the -great beech wood. The trunks were black and smooth -under a splendour of green that shone in the sunlight. -The earth still seemed virginal, for the flowers that had -been touched by the bees were lost in the rich, rank lustiness -of early summer. The valleys rippled with gold, -and the may trees were still in bloom, and full of infinite -fragrance.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Marpasse made her way through the wood, and came -at last to the place where the beech boles stood like great -pillars about an open court. There was a blur of colour -against the green, the pink blush of an early rose that -had run in riot over the wattle fence, and flowered like -a rose tree in a garden of Shiraz. The dark brown thatch -of the cell showed ragged holes where birds had burrowed -in and built their nests. The grass stood knee deep in -the glade, grass that seemed asleep in the warm sunlight, -dreamed over by moon-faced daisies bewitched by the song -of the bees.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Marpasse had taken cover behind the trunk of a -beech tree. She had seen a track in the long grass where -someone had passed but a short while ago. And Marpasse’s -eyes beamed in her brown face. Her prophecy -had also been fulfilled, for there, under the shade of the -rose tree she saw Denise amid the grass, her knees drawn -up, and her chin resting in the palms of her two -hands.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Marpasse watched her awhile, indulging her own philosophy -much like a nurse commenting upon a child.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Heart of mine, but somebody should be here in my -place. What a sad, white face, to be sure, and what eyes—as -though the whole world were on its death bed! We -will change all that, my dear. You shall be the colour -of the rose bush before the day is out.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>She slipped from behind the tree, and crossed the -grass, singing a song that she had often sung upon the -road. And she saw Denise’s face start up into the sunlight -out of its mood of mists and sadness. A tendril -of the rose tree caught Denise’s hair as Marpasse pushed -open the rotting gate.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Marpasse laughed, happy, yet with a lovable shyness -in her eyes.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“See what it is to be desired,” said she, “even the -rose tree must catch at that hair of yours. Heart of -mine—how you tremble!”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>She took Denise and held her, kissing her mouth.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“So you ran away—for the last time, hey—when -St. George had finished slaying the dragon! That was a -mad thing to do, my dear. You should have stopped to -succour him, should he have been wounded.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Denise’s brown eyes searched Marpasse’s face, looking -beyond the other’s playfulness.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Gaillard?” she asked.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Dead, heart of mine; the best thing that ever he -did was to die. Those brown eyes of yours need not look -so frightened, St. George has been put to bed to sleep -till he is hungry.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Marpasse sat down under the rose tree, and drew Denise -into her lap.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Try to smile a little, my dear,” she said, “for summer -is coming in, and the cuckoo is singing.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Denise did not rest long in Marpasse’s lap, nor would -she touch any of the bread that Marpasse had brought -with her. She drew aside in the grass, turned her face -away, and sat staring into the shadowy spaces under the -trees. Marpasse watched her, and let the mood take its -course. She could be patient with Denise as yet, knowing -that suffering and sorrow leave the heart sore and easily -hurt.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Denise spoke at last in a low voice, still keeping her -face hidden from Marpasse.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Where is he?” she asked.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Down yonder—in the priest’s house.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Wounded?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“He killed Gaillard, heart of mine, and Gaillard was -a good man at his weapons.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Her vagueness did not work as a lure. Denise did not -swoop to it; so Marpasse told the truth.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“There is nothing to fear. Messire Aymery was not -born to die a bachelor.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Does he know that I am here?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“How should he, heart of mine, when I left him -asleep—tired out, and came up here at a venture.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Denise fell again into a long silence. There was something -in the poise of her head—and in the way she sat -motionless in the long grass that betrayed troubled -thoughts and deep self-questioning. Denise had the -mirror of her life before her, and found it full of shadows, -and of reflections that she could not smother.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Marpasse.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Heart of mine.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“He must never see me again; no—I could not bear -it.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“God help us now! Why, it is the month of May—and -the sun is shining——”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“It is the truth, Marpasse. How can I—I——? -Look; it all happened here! How can I put that out of -my heart?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Marpasse stretched out a hand and touched her.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Come, come, look at the sun, not at the -shadows.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“It is not in me—to forget everything.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Even that the man loves you?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Denise turned on her suddenly with eyes full of a -fierce light.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Yes, and should I take his love, I—who cannot go -to him as a woman should! It is not in my heart, Marpasse, -whatever you may say. God help me, but I love -him better than that!”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Her passion spent itself, and she lay down in the grass, -covering her face, and trying to hide a rush of tears. -Marpasse bent over her, moved by great pity, and yet -impatient with Denise for pulling so simple a thread -into a tangle. But Denise would not listen to Marpasse. -She was even angry with her own tears.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“No, no—let me be; I am a fool; it will soon pass.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Marpasse grimaced.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Why will you walk on thorns?” she said; “some -people can never satisfy their consciences!”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Denise still hid her face in the long grass.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“It is for Aymery’s sake.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Bah!” quoth Marpasse; “you will give him a -stone, will you—when he is hungry.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>She got up from under the rose tree, and went towards -the gate.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I have left you the bread,” she said, “and it is better -to eat bread and be contented than to look for rents in -one’s own soul. Messire Aymery shall not know that -you are here, if you will promise me one thing.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Denise raised herself upon her elbow.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Stay here till to-morrow. I will put it all before -Father Grimbald. He is a man with a head and a heart. -For the rest, my dear, put that bread into your body -and sleep ten hours by the sun.”</p> - -<div><h1 class='nobreak'>CHAPTER XLIII</h1></div> - -<p class='pindent'>Aymery was still in a deep sleep when Marpasse returned -to the priest’s house an hour before sunset, and -found Grimbald baking cakes on the hearth. Marpasse -might have laughed at his housewifeliness had she not -been in a very earnest temper about Denise. So she -drew a stool up and sat down as though to make sure -that Grimbald did not burn the cakes which he had made -while she was away.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I have found her,” she said, and Grimbald had only -to listen, for Marpasse’s generous impatience had ample -inspiration.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Never tell me women are not obstinate, Father, for -I swear to you that Denise was born to make misery for -herself. A Jew hunting for a farthing in the mud is not -more careful than Denise to hunt out something to -grieve over. I should like to cut the conscience out of -her, and bury it.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Grimbald held up a hand, and rising from the -stool, went to the doorway of the inner room, and -looked in to see that Aymery was asleep. He closed -the door softly, and came back to the hot cakes and -Marpasse.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“You are a great battle-horse, my child,” he -said bluntly. “Denise’s flanks are not for the same -spur.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Marpasse took the rebuke with the best of tempers.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Dear Lord, but the pity of it. All this to-do, and -blood-spilling, and no marriage bed at the end of it. -There is no law of the Church against it, Father, surely? -The monks clapped vows on her, and pulled them off again -with their own hands.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Grimbald bent forward, and methodically turned -the cakes.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>His strong face shone like burnished copper in the -firelight; a gaunt, good face, honest and very shrewd. -Marpasse watched him, and the thought flashed on her -from somewhere that it would be an excellent thing to -have the baking of such a man’s bread. And with a -quaint impulsiveness she put her hand up over her -mouth, symbolising the smothering of so scandalous a -conceit.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Having turned all the cakes, Grimbald gave his judgment.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I have no love for the convent women,” he said, -“and there—I am out of fashion.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Marpasse saw the worldly side of the picture, and -smoothed away a smile.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Then you would make them man and wife, Father -if the chance offered?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Against all the monkish law in the kingdom,” he -said stoutly; “we put no vows on her when she had -her cell up yonder. And some of the folk here would -have been burnt for her if she had asked it. Only that -lewd dog of a Gascon——Well, we broke their teeth at -Lewes.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Marpasse stared solemnly into the fire as though -looking for pictures amid the blaze of the burning -wood.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“If Denise could only forget a year,” she said.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Grimbald nodded wisely.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“God wastes nothing,” he answered; “those who -never suffer, never learn.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Aymery slept the whole night, and woke soon after -dawn with a rush of memories like clouds over a March -sky. He found Grimbald sitting by his bed. Grimbald -was dozing, but his eyes opened suddenly and looked -straight at Aymery like the eyes of an altar saint in the -dimness of the room.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The first word that Aymery uttered was the name of -Denise.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Grimbald’s gaunt face remained thoughtful and -placid.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Marpasse has found her,” he said.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Aymery’s eyes asked more than Grimbald had the -heart to tell.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“She is safe,” was all that he would say, and acting -as though there were no secret to be concealed, he -went out to lay the fire on the hearth of the great -room.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Now Marpasse showed a most managing temper that -May morning, and went about as though she had some -grave work on hand. She herself took food in to Aymery, -remained awhile with the door shut, and came out looking -very set about the mouth.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I have told him a lie,” she said to Grimbald in a -whisper, “his eyes asked for it. Go in and barber him, -Father; a lover looks best with a clean chin.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Grimbald stared her in the face.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“What have you told him?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“That we kept her away last night—for the sake of -his wounds.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Grimbald’s lips came together for a “but.” Marpasse -whispered on.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Get your razor and barber him, Father, and keep -a clean edge on the lie. His eyes asked for it—I tell you, -and I had not the heart to dash in the truth. I have the -yoke on my own shoulders. Two lies sometimes make -the truth.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>She took Grimbald’s holly staff from the corner, -and put on her hood.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I am going to fetch her,” she said; “no—I shall -not scold. I have my plan. You may sit in the wood-shed -out of sight, Father Grimbald, when I bring her -back with me. If she sees you it will spoil the whole -brew.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>She turned on the threshold, and Grimbald saw -suddenly that her eyes were wet.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Pray for them both, good Father,” she said to him, -“my heart’s in the thing whatever rough words my -mouth may say.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>And Grimbald promised, and let her go. Yet when -she had gone, and he was left alone in the great -room with its black beams and smoking hearth, he -saw through his prayers the brave, brown face of -Marpasse.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Yet Marpasse’s warm-hearted, yet coarser, nature could -not vibrate to the subtler emotions that stirred in Denise. -The two were like crude sunshine and moonlight; Marpasse -healthy and vital in herself, yet lacking mystery -and the glimmer of visionary things. Denise had often -been more a spirit than a body, though the woman in -her had been awakened, and the rich warm scent of the -earth had ascended into her nostrils. Suffering had -made her very human, and yet the soul in her still beat -its wings, even though those wings should carry it away -from the world’s desire nearer to the cold stars in a lonely -sky. To Marpasse, Denise’s self-condemnation might -seem a kind of futile and pitiable sanctity, but then -Marpasse had more blood and bone in her, and less of -that spirit that is crucified by its own purity.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Denise had passed the whole night in the long grass -under the rose tree, looking at the stars and the vague, -black shapes of the great beeches. The cell had a horror -for her, and she would not enter it, as though her other -self lay dead within. That other memory was more -vivid than the memories of those nights when Aymery -had lain there wounded little more than a year ago.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Give herself to the man she felt she could not, for -she was too sensitive, too much a sad soul in a beautiful -body not to feel the veil of aloofness that covered her -face, that veil that was invisible and impalpable to -Marpasse. Her own innocence made her more conscious -of that other life—that other innocent soul that had -been born in her, and which had taken from the mother -that which she would have given to Aymery whom she -loved. Only a pure woman could feel what Denise felt -in her heart of hearts. The divine girdle had been torn -from her. Love might be blind to it, but Denise’s soul -could not be blind.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>And yet a sense of great loneliness rushed upon her -that night, weighing her down into the long grass, and -making her heart heavy. The petals of the rose fell dew -drenched into her lap. The night was still and fragrant, -and no wind made the trees mutter like the hoarse whisperings -of an oracle in some ancient forest. The heart of -Denise was heavy within her. The sad deeps of life -seemed between her and the world, a dark voiceless gulf -that no living soul could cross.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>So the day came, and with it Marpasse, holly staff in -hand, alert, and on her guard. But she was disarmed -that morning by Denise herself. The first glimpse of that -tragic and troubled face drove the rougher words out of -Marpasse’s mouth. She took Denise in her arms, and -kissed her, seeing in those brown eyes such deeps of -sincerity and sadness, that Marpasse humbled herself, -feeling herself near to something greater than a woman’s -whim.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Marpasse guessed what Denise had to say. The -renunciation lay in the brown eyes like a dim mist of -tears.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I am going away, Marpasse,” she said. “I have -thought of it all the night.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Marpasse hid her impulses, and was patient and very -gentle.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Heart of mine, where will you go?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“To Earl Simon.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Marpasse opened her eyes.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I shall go to him, and put everything before him. -He has a great heart, Marpasse, and his lady has -the soul of Mary—Our Mother. Nor shall I go in -vain.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>She spoke very simply, like one resigned, but Marpasse -felt the wild heart of a woman who loved palpitating -beneath her courage. It was the purpose of one whose -knees shook under her, and who strove to keep herself -from looking back. A touch, and love would break out, -with a great passionate cry. Marpasse saw it all, and -took her inspiration.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“So be it, heart of mine,” she said, looking sad enough; -“and yet—before you go—there is Father Grimbald -yonder. The good man strained a sinew last night, -or he would have been here with me this morning. -He would not forgive your going without seeing -him.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Denise breathed out the answer that Marpasse was -expecting.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“But I cannot go! He—is there.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Marpasse, brazen-faced, told the lie of her life.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Messire Aymery? He is so little the worse that -he was in the saddle at daybreak, and searching the -woods to the west, and half the village with him.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Denise looked into Marpasse’s eyes.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“That is the truth?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Heart of mine, why should I tell you a lie!”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Denise seemed to hesitate. She shrank from the -sight of any familiar face that morning, and yet her -heart reproached her because of Grimbald. The thought -was often with her that she might have trusted him -more deeply.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Marpasse, dreading to seem too eager, put in a frank -plea.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Why shun a good friend?” she said; “he would -be grieved. The man is no Ursula, God forbid!”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Denise surrendered.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I will come,” she said; “but I will see no one but -Grimbald.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Leave it to me, sister; we can keep to the woods.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Marpasse played her part so well that no flicker of -suspicion passed over Denise’s face as they made their -way across the valley to the priest’s house under the -silver birches. Only here and there had they to leave -the woodlands to cross a meadow or a piece of the wild -common where the villagers pastured their cattle. Denise -walked with her hood drawn forward, looking about her -wistfully at the hills and valleys that were so familiar, -and had been so dear. She felt like a stranger in the -Goldspur woods that morning, a bird of passage that -passed and left no loneliness in the heart of the land she -left. Marpasse talked much upon the way, entering -into Denise’s plans as though she were resigned to them, -the most loving of hypocrites who lied for the sake of love. -She even warned Denise to take care of her long-suffering -body. “Two nights without sleep,” she said, “is enough -for any woman. Live your life in such a hurry and you -will be as thin as a post in three months, with wrinkles -all over your face. The pity of it! Like a piece of fine -silk left out in the wind and rain.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>So they came to Grimbald’s house amid the silver -stems of the birches, Marpasse alert and on the watch -lest some piece of clumsiness should make her plot miscarry. -Denise was shy and wild as an untamed falcon, -her brown eyes half afraid of the birch wood, as though -Aymery might come riding out with half Goldspur village -at his heels. Marpasse saw the look in Denise’s eyes. -One clap of the hands and the bird would be skimming -on frightened wings.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Courage, sister,” she said, “there is not a soul to -be seen. I will keep guard and watch while you are -talking with Grimbald. No, the good man will not try -to over-persuade you. If I whistle, then you will know -that there is danger in the distance.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>They entered the porch, Marpasse first, Denise following.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“The good man is abed resting that sprained ankle -of his. I will see whether he is ready.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Marpasse crossed the outer room, peeped in, held up -a hand to Aymery, and turned and called Denise. There -was an iron catch on the door that hooked into a staple, -so that the door could be fastened on the outer side. -Moreover the door opened outwards into the larger -room, and Marpasse stood with her hand on the -catch.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“She is coming, Father,” she said, keeping her eyes -upon Denise.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The grey figure brushed past Marpasse, and crossed -the threshold in all innocence. No sooner was Denise -within, than Marpasse clapped to the door, fastened it, -and ran like a mad woman out of the house.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>In the wood-shed at the end of the rough garden -she found Grimbald sitting patiently on the chopping -block behind a screen of faggots.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I have shut her in with him,” she said; “now love -must win—or never.”</p> - -<div><h1 class='nobreak'>CHAPTER XLIV</h1></div> - -<p class='pindent'>The morning sunlight poured through the window and -struck upon Denise as she stood leaning against the door -that Marpasse had closed on her. The first impulse had -been one of anger, the anger of one caught in an ambuscade. -For it was not Grimbald that she saw, but -Aymery, propped against a pillow, with a face like wax, -his eyes shining at her, eyes full of that truth which she -had sought to shun.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Denise!”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>He held out his hands to her, rising in the bed so -that the sunlight fell upon his head and shoulders. And -Denise, leaning against the door, found her anger sinking -into a kind of stupor. Her face was as white as Aymery’s, -and she shrank like a bird when the hand of the fowler -comes into the trap.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Aymery’s eager face was still luminous, as though the -soul shone through the flesh. Denise’s hood was drawn, -yet beneath it he caught the gleam of her splendid hair. -She did not move or utter a word, but stood there helplessly, -hearing her own heart beating like a thing that -struggles to be free.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>There was a sudden sense of a shadow stealing across -the room. The man’s face had clouded. A troubled, -questioning look came into the eyes, the look of a dog -trying to understand. His hands sank slowly to the -bed, and were no longer stretched out to her, but lay open, -palms upward, the hands of a man waiting for alms from -heaven.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>For the moment Denise saw nothing but those hands. -The rush of blind anger against Marpasse went out before -a spasm of compassion. The silence of the room seemed -the silence of a great church where the Holy Blood is -uplifted. Then a mystery of infinite, dim things swept -over her like a cloud of incense. She shivered, and held -her breath.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Denise.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>She struggled to find words.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I thought that it was Grimbald here. Marpasse -deceived me.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>How poor and miserly the words seemed, and the -sense of their ineffectual coldness drove her to glance at -Aymery’s face. He was lying back in the shadow, his -eyes watching her with that same puzzled, questioning, -and wistful look. She saw them fill suddenly with -understanding, and the generous gleam that followed, -humbled her heart.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I did not know——” he began.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Marpasse told me——”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>She bit her lips, and was silent.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Denise—it was no trick of mine, God knows -that!”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>She leant against the door, hiding her face.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I lost you—after Gaillard and I had ended it. They -brought me here, and told me that they had found you, -but that they would not bring you to me—because of my -wounds. That—is everything. Call Marpasse. She -shall open the door and let you go.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Denise glanced at him, half furtively, and that one -glance seemed to make the metal of her purpose melt -and flow into a stream of living fire. She turned with -an inarticulate cry, and threw back her hood, letting the -sunlight fall upon her face.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Lord, how can I, I who remember all the past!”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Denise!”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>He was up, leaning towards her, stretching out his -hands.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“God! What is all that—to me! Can you not -understand?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>She swayed, closing her eyes, her hands feeling the -air as though she were blind.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“My heart—oh—my heart!”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Denise!”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“May the sin of it be forgiven.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>She was on her knees beside the bed, her arms flung -out over it, her face hidden in the coverlet.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Lord—save me——!”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Aymery’s arms went round her, and she clung to -him with sudden passion, as though life were there, and -love, and hope.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Hold me—keep me—let me not go! Oh, but the -shame of it—the selfishness! Closer, closer to you! -I am afraid—I am afraid!”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>She was trembling like one lifted from the torture of -the rack. Her hands clung to him, the hands of a -frightened child, and of an impassioned woman. Aymery -turned her in his arms, so that her hair fell down across -the bed, and her face was under his.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Rest here, my heart. Who—on God’s earth—shall -take you from me?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Their eyes met and held in one long look.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Lord, lord—ah—do not pity me,” she said, “not -in the way that hurts a woman’s heart.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Aymery kissed her upon the mouth.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“God forgive me,” he said, “if ever I have made -you think that.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Meanwhile Marpasse had returned, leaving Grimbald -in the wood-shed, and creeping softly across the room -she stood listening at the closed door. Such a true -friend was Marpasse that the two within might have forgiven -her her eaves-dropping. It was no inquisitive -spirit that waited there silent, and open-mouthed, -listening with wet eyes to words that were sacred. -Marpasse soon knew the truth, and she crept away on -tip-toe.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>But Marpasse was no sooner out of the house than a -delirious mood seized her, and she ran like a girl, her wet -eyes ablaze, her face exultant. There was no need for -Grimbald to ask her how things sped.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Love is lord of all,” she sang; “and I have the -weight of a lie off my shoulders! Good saints, good -saints—I wish I could give you a lapful of silver!”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>She laughed up to Grimbald in her delight, caught him -by the shoulders, and kissed him full upon the mouth.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“<span class='it'>Mea culpa</span>, Father; I am a mad fool, but my heart -was in the venture, and when I am glad—like a dog—I -must show it.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The sunlight pierced the faggot wall of the shed, -and burnt like golden tongues on the sombre cloth of the -man’s cassock. Something in Grimbald’s eyes sobered -Marpasse abruptly. It was not anger, not an amused -and fatherly tolerance, but a look in which the deep -strong heart of the man betrayed itself. Marpasse -caught her breath, and went fiercely red under her brown -skin. Then, a sudden virginal softness seemed to steal -over her face. She hung her head, but not foolishly. -For the moment neither she nor Grimbald spoke.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Marpasse gave a short, curious laugh, picked up a -rotten stick, and began to snap it into small pieces between -her hands.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“May they be very happy,” she said; “the love of a -strong man is life to a woman, Father—and the children -that may come of it.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>She looked up quickly at Grimbald, and her bold -eyes had grown like the eyes of a girl.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I might have made a good mother—but there——!” -and she threw the pieces of broken wood aside, and spread -her hands “children have not come my way—nor the -man who will master me,” and she was silent, staring at -the ground.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Grimbald’s face shone like a rock with the sunlight -on it.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“To some of us such things are not given,” he said; -“my children are down yonder—and yet——! I chose -what I chose—when I was a lad.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Marpasse seemed to be struggling to say something -that would not shape itself into words.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“It is so lonely—sometimes,” and her eyes looked into -the past; “dear heart, I have often spat at the thought -of myself! It is always ‘the might have been,’ with -some of us. The world often leers at a woman, Father, -when it offers her a penny. I was just as tall as the -harvest wheat when they pushed me out on the road. -But I am not bad to the core, Father, though few people -would think it the truth.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>She heard Grimbald draw his breath.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“The core of the world is a generous heart,” he said; -“look at me, Marpasse. Many things might happen, -but for what I am.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>He took Marpasse’s hands, held them a moment, and -then dropped them reverently, looking at her to see -that she understood. And these two brave souls gazed in -each other’s eyes, knowing that they could come no -nearer, and that their lives might cross but never travel -the same road.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Yet Marpasse went out from the wood-shed into the -sunlight with a smile upon her face, the smile of a woman -who has re-discovered mystery in herself. A look of the -eyes, a few words, a touch of the hands—that was all! -Marpasse pressed her face between her two hands, and -stood staring and staring away towards the distant woods. -The scoffing voice was silent in her, the mouth strangely -soft, the eyes the eyes of a young girl.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>And Denise, who kissed her that night, as a woman -who is loved kisses the woman who loves her, saw no -shadow of sadness on the brave, brown face of Marpasse.</p> - -<div class='lgc' style=''> <!-- rend=';' --> -<p class='line'> </p> -<p class='line'> </p> -<p class='line'>Made and Printed in Great Britain by</p> -<p class='line'>The Greycaine Book Manufacturing Company Limited, Watford</p> -</div> <!-- end rend --> - -<hr class='tbk'/> - -<p class='line' style='margin-top:2em;margin-bottom:1.5em;font-size:1.3em;'><span class='it'>NOVELS BY WARWICK DEEPING</span></p> - -<div class='lgl' style=''> <!-- rend=';ml:4em;' --> -<p class='line' style='text-align:left;margin-left:4em;'><span class='sc'>Kitty</span></p> -<p class='line' style='text-align:left;margin-left:4em;'><span class='sc'>Doomsday</span></p> -<p class='line' style='text-align:left;margin-left:4em;'><span class='sc'>Sorrell and Son</span></p> -<p class='line' style='text-align:left;margin-left:4em;'><span class='sc'>Suvla John</span></p> -<p class='line' style='text-align:left;margin-left:4em;'><span class='sc'>Three Rooms</span></p> -<p class='line' style='text-align:left;margin-left:4em;'><span class='sc'>The Secret Sanctuary</span></p> -<p class='line' style='text-align:left;margin-left:4em;'><span class='sc'>Orchards</span></p> -<p class='line' style='text-align:left;margin-left:4em;'><span class='sc'>Lantern Lane</span></p> -<p class='line' style='text-align:left;margin-left:4em;'><span class='sc'>Second Youth</span></p> -<p class='line' style='text-align:left;margin-left:4em;'><span class='sc'>Countess Glika</span></p> -<p class='line' style='text-align:left;margin-left:4em;'><span class='sc'>Unrest</span></p> -<p class='line' style='text-align:left;margin-left:4em;'><span class='sc'>The Pride of Eve</span></p> -<p class='line' style='text-align:left;margin-left:4em;'><span class='sc'>The King Behind the King</span></p> -<p class='line' style='text-align:left;margin-left:4em;'><span class='sc'>The House of Spies</span></p> -<p class='line' style='text-align:left;margin-left:4em;'><span class='sc'>Sincerity</span></p> -<p class='line' style='text-align:left;margin-left:4em;'><span class='sc'>Fox Farm</span></p> -<p class='line' style='text-align:left;margin-left:4em;'><span class='sc'>Bess of the Woods</span></p> -<p class='line' style='text-align:left;margin-left:4em;'><span class='sc'>The Red Saint</span></p> -<p class='line' style='text-align:left;margin-left:4em;'><span class='sc'>The Slanderers</span></p> -<p class='line' style='text-align:left;margin-left:4em;'><span class='sc'>The Return of the Petticoat</span></p> -<p class='line' style='text-align:left;margin-left:4em;'><span class='sc'>A Woman’s War</span></p> -<p class='line' style='text-align:left;margin-left:4em;'><span class='sc'>Valour</span></p> -<p class='line' style='text-align:left;margin-left:4em;'><span class='sc'>Bertrand of Brittany</span></p> -<p class='line' style='text-align:left;margin-left:4em;'><span class='sc'>Uther and Igraine</span></p> -<p class='line' style='text-align:left;margin-left:4em;'><span class='sc'>The House of Adventure</span></p> -<p class='line' style='text-align:left;margin-left:4em;'><span class='sc'>The Prophetic Marriage</span></p> -<p class='line' style='text-align:left;margin-left:4em;'><span class='sc'>Apples of Gold</span></p> -<p class='line' style='text-align:left;margin-left:4em;'><span class='sc'>The Lame Englishman</span></p> -<p class='line' style='text-align:left;margin-left:4em;'><span class='sc'>Marriage by Conquest</span></p> -<p class='line' style='text-align:left;margin-left:4em;'><span class='sc'>Joan of the Tower</span></p> -<p class='line' style='text-align:left;margin-left:4em;'><span class='sc'>Martin Valliant</span></p> -<p class='line' style='text-align:left;margin-left:4em;'><span class='sc'>Rust of Rome</span></p> -<p class='line' style='text-align:left;margin-left:4em;'><span class='sc'>The White Gate</span></p> -<p class='line' style='text-align:left;margin-left:4em;'><span class='sc'>The Seven Streams</span></p> -<p class='line' style='text-align:left;margin-left:4em;'><span class='sc'>Mad Barbara</span></p> -</div> <!-- end rend --> - -<hr class='tbk100'/> - -<p class='line' style='margin-top:2em;font-size:1.1em;font-weight:bold;'><a id='notes'></a>Transcriber’s Notes:</p> - -<p class='noindent'>Archaic spellings and hyphenation have been retained. Obvious -typesetting and punctuation errors have been corrected -without note.</p> - -<p class='line'> </p> - -<p class='noindent'>[End of <span class='it'>The Red Saint</span> by Warwick Deeping]</p> - - - - - - - - -<pre> - - - - - -End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of The Red Saint, by Warwick Deeping - -*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE RED SAINT *** - -***** This file should be named 63544-h.htm or 63544-h.zip ***** -This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: - http://www.gutenberg.org/6/3/5/4/63544/ - -Produced by Mardi Desjardins & the online Distributed -Proofreaders Canada team at https://www.pgdpcanada.net -from page images generously made available by the Internet -Archive (https://archive.org) - -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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