How I was brought before _Le Grand Sarrasin_, and of his magnificence.
How I saw _Folly_ in his chamber, and was lodged in a cavern under
earth.
It is long years ago since I was borne up the Castle Hill, the prisoner
of the Moors, but I stand not upon any high hill even to-day to look
down without remembering how I felt on that day, when the bandage was
torn from my eyes, and I looked round, dazzled at first by the daylight.
But there was that in me, in that I was young, and had all my boyhood
been taught true faith in Heaven, which even now rose up and persuaded
me that come what might a man could bear it, and that no evil man could
by any means force out of a true man's lips that which he would fain not
say.
Before me rose a bright pavilion of green and gold, and two great
sentries in rich raiment with pikes stood either side of the entrance,
letting none pass without a countersign.
Then as my captor drew me rudely onwards towards the entrance, I
guessed, as they stood speaking with the sentries ere we entered, that
this was the Pavilion of Le Grand Sarrasin.
We entered, and found ourselves in a rich antechamber, spread with
carpets of Turkey, whereon men in glossy cloaks trod to and fro in
converse or lay at ease. A fair curtain of blue silk was drawn across an
inner entrance, guarded by two negro lads in scarlet. Awhile we waited,
but at length a page came through the curtain, and with a low obeisance
to Mahmud called us to follow him, and we went into a second chamber,
wherein was no daylight, but only great lighted lamps of silver, that
swung melancholy in the gloom. As mine eyes used themselves to the dim
light, I saw it was indeed Geoffrey's presence chamber that I, poor
Nigel, stood in, with the great foe of our cloister seated before me.
Stout and thick-set as I saw him on his Arabian steed, he sat in his
golden chair, clad in black velvet, with buttons of glittering jewels. I
looked up through the dim light to see his face, but lo! I saw naught,
for a little veil of black gauze was stretched round from a small gold
cap upon his head. And I remembered how it was current talk that no man
had ever seen Le Grand Geoffroy's face in war or peace, and that a
terrible mystery lay beneath this veil of gauze, through which he gazed
on his men.
Upon my entrance, he stooped and spoke to one at his side, who it seemed
was to act as interpreter between us; and he coming forward bade Mahmud
speak, which he did in a strange tongue, pointing to me at times as
though recounting my efforts to resist at Jersey.
Upon his ceasing, the interpreter presently approached, and bade me tell
my name, and whither I went in that boat, and what my business. Now, I
was determined to answer nothing, lest ill be done to the good cause of
my friends, so I said not a word. Then at a word from the Sarrasin,
Mahmud said--
"Silence avails not, Nigel of Vale Abbey; we know thee and thy business,
and have power to know more!"
At this I forgot caution, and replied hotly--"My name thou knowest, and
it is not a name that a man need be ashamed of; more shalt thou fail to
learn, for all thy craft."
This I hurled madly at Le Grand Geoffroy on his throne, but he stirred
not.
"Thou wilt tell us," proceeded the black-bearded ruffian, "how many
there be shut up in Vale, what thou knowest of their treasuries, what
store of food they have, and the disposition of their sentinels at
nightfall."
My answer was a gaze of angry scorn.
The Grand Sarrasin bent down to the interpreter, and when he had spoken,
he came forward like a herald, and spake thus--
"Thy lord, and the lord of these isles, would have thee know that he
loves thy courage, Nigel de Bessin, but fears for thy folly in this
matter. He would have thee answer to all questions asked thee, and so
in good season enter his service as a brave man."
I smiled defiance at the cunning monster. "Yea! yea!" I said, "thou
wouldst have me add to my other woes the woe of treachery! Geoffroy, if
that be thy name, know thou my friends' matters are safe in my own
keeping."
Again the Sarrasin bent and conversed with Mahmud, and the little bag
they had robbed from my neck was taken to him, the which he opened, and
curiously handled the ring that lay therein, with its motto, "_Loyal
devoir_," and the letter "A."
Presently the interpreter again came forth, and bade them in his lord's
name remove me to safe keeping, as other matters were at hand to occupy
him. Then, with all due state, we passed out of the chamber on one side,
and I was, by a straight passage, led downward to those very caverns
under earth which the pirates had dug for their treasuries. Now, as we
passed out, I saw others in a throng enter the Sarrasin's presence
chamber, but I could scarce see them clearly, and beside this throng of
visitors leapt, I thought, that very impish ugly devil, the ape that men
called the familiar of the Lord of Rouen, that he named Folly, the which
I had set eyes on at the house at Blanchelande. Yea, it ran chattering
with many a mow and grimace, and though I saw not those that entered, I
was well assured that my Lord of Rouen had free entry to Le Grand
Sarrasin, full lot in his friendship and unholy fortunes; nay, as it
struck me at once, was working through this Moorish devil evil to our
abbot, whom he now hated, and danger to a greater than he. Now, these
thoughts ran through my mind when I saw Folly, the archbishop's ape, so
lively in the Sarrasin's presence chamber, and I exceedingly dreaded
this evil union of evil men, yet remembered I my "_Quare fremuerunt_,"
and had good faith that One more powerful than man would save me and my
good friends the Brethren from false Maugher and cruel Geoffroy.
To a sad dungeon beneath the ground was I led, exceeding dark, for the
only light entered through a narrow slit in the rocky roof; and I saw
that the walls and roof were rugged and rough, half cavern and half
cell. Alas! alas! sad moment indeed it was when I was thrust therein,
with my arms bound to my back and my wounds still undrest, my body stiff
and full of pain, and my head dizzy and heavy after so great excitement.
Helplessly enough I crawled around the rocky walls, and found a barrier
that seemed framed of wood across the entry. I felt, and found that it
hung like a great gate on a bar of iron that ran through holes cut in
the solid rock. I looked in despair up to the narrow slip above. In
agony of spirit I even for a short space threw myself as I might against
the door, against the rock.
At length I knew it was hopeless, and I crawled to a heap of plundered
goods, and lay on them passive for a season. Perchance I slept, and at
least a little space forgot my troubles, but not heavily, for a very
gentle moving of the door appalled me, and in a moment I was half on my
feet. There was no need for such alarm, for he that entered came softly
in and whispered that he was a friend. A moment I thought here was a
wile of my foes to catch me, but I looked long and sternly at my
visitor, and decided he had not come to work deceit. A man he was of
noble and knightly aspect, easy in his bearing, frank in his gaze,
exceeding handsome, so far as by the dim light I could judge. He came
close and stood by me, and spoke softly.
"Hush, lad," he said, "fear me not, for I come hither as a friend! And
if thou art to be saved from torture and death, thou must trust me as
the saint trusts his God. Wilt thou do this?"
I murmured beneath my breath that I did not doubt him, and bade him for
the sake of God not to delay.
"Thou dost not know me, Nigel de Bessin," he said, "but I know thee
already, and with many another stood this day in yonder antechamber and
heard thy words to Geoffroy. Now, those words I loved to hear, and I
have been in a struggle since I heard thee, the one part of me saying,
'Save this lad,' and the other part counselling me to let thee die. But
I am here to save thee."
"Yea! yea!" I broke in; "but how may it be done?"
"Trust me," he said, "and in an hour's space, for it is even now
evening, the château will be at rest, and our sentinels are slack of
watch. Meanwhile, refresh thyself, and prepare even now for what may be
thy hardest battle." He laid before me some eatables and a little flask
of wine, and with a slash of his poniard cut the cord from my arms,
which for long hung cramped and aching, so tight had they been bound.
With that he vanished out of the cell, and hope again sprang up in my
heart, and I thanked Heaven for sending me such aid in my woes, even
here in the womb of the earth.