THE NEW COMPANION.
ONE of the strangest features of a strange time was the manner in which
families were broken up and neighbours were at feud. The same
individuals shifted sides and were one day boozing together at table and
the next meeting in deadly conflict. Discord was in families. In the
house of Limeuil the father was French, the son English; and the son was
English merely because he desired to turn his father out of the
ancestral heritage and lord it in his room. Limeuil was stormed by the
son, then retaken by the father; now sacked by English troops, and then
sacked again by French troops, who cared nothing for the national causes
of France or England. Prevost de la Force and Perducat d'Albret had
castles facing each other on opposite sides of the Dordogne. Each
desired to draw some money out of the commercial town of Bergerac on the
plea that he was empowered to protect it from the other. Accordingly,
one called himself French, the other English; and Perducat, when it
suited his convenience, after having been English, became French.
Domestic broils determined the policy of the turbulent seigneurs. If
they coveted a bit of land, or a village, or a castle that belonged to a
brother or a cousin of one persuasion, they went over to the opposed to
supply them with an excuse for falling on their kinsmen. The Seigneur de
Pons, because his marriage settlement with his wife did not allow him
sufficient liberty to handle her means, turned French, and his wife
threw open her gates to the Duke of Lancaster. Whereupon the seigneur
fought the English, to whom he had formerly been devoted, retook his
town, and chastised his wife. The man who was French to-day was English
to-morrow, and French again the day after. Some were very weathercocks,
turning with every wind, always with an eye to their own advantage.
Consequently, families were much mixed up with both parties. Unless a
seigneur was out on a raid, he would associate on terms of friendliness
with the very men whom he would hang on the next occasion. Kinsfolk were
in every camp. The seigneurs had allies everywhere; but their kinsfolk
were not always their allies--were often their deadliest enemies.
The mother of Noémi was akin to the family of Tarde. Indeed, her aunt
was the mother of Jean and Jacques, who were, accordingly, her first
cousins. The Tarde family were French; no one in Gageac was English. By
interest, by tradition, the place was true to the Lilies.
A little way up the river, on the further side, was Domme, which was
held by the English. Noémi passed from the English to the French town,
and nothing was thought of it that she was as much at home with her
cousins in La Roque Gageac as among her mother's attendants at Domme.
Even the young Tardes might have gone to the market in the English town
and have returned unmolested.
The bullies of Guillem in like manner swaggered where they listed,
penetrated to Gageac, when there was a dance or a drinking bout; and, so
long as they came unarmed, were allowed admittance.
No one could say whether there was peace or war. There was a little of
one and a little of the other. Whenever a roysterer was weary of doing
nothing, he gathered his men together and made a raid; whenever a
captain wanted to pay his men, he plundered a village. Otherwise, all
went on tolerably quietly. There was no marching across the country of
great bodies of armed men, no protracted sieges, no battles in which
whole hosts were engaged. But there was incessant fear, there were small
violences, there was no certainty of safety. There was no central power
to control the wrong-doers, no justice to mete out to them the reward of
their deeds. When the lion and the wolf and the bear are hungry, then
they raven for food; when glutted, they lie down and sleep. The barons
and free captains and little seigneurs were the lions, wolves, and bears
that infested Guyenne and Périgord. They were now on the alert and
rending, then ensued a period of quietude.
Little passed between Jean del' Peyra and Noémi on the way. She was
mounted on a fresh horse, and attended by two serving-men of the Tardes,
as Jacques and Jean could not accompany her, having duties connected
with the little town to discharge that day which required their
presence. Jean del' Peyra was on his fagged steed, and could not keep up
with the rest. Jean was not sanguine that the girl would prevail with
her father, but he was grateful that she should make the attempt.
On reaching the point at the junction of the Beune with the Vézère where
the roads or tracks diverged, the one to the Church of Guillem, the
other to the ford at Tayac, Noémi halted till Jean came up.
"I am going to see my father," she said. "I will come on to Ste. Soure
when I have his answer--but I trust I shall bring to you your men."
"I thank you," answered the lad.
"Come, Jean," said the girl; "you will not think so ill of me as you
have done. Give me your hand."
"I cannot think ill now of one who is doing her best to relieve my
father and me in a case of pressing necessity, and of saving seven
families from worse than death."
He put out his hand and pressed hers, but without cordiality. The hand
he took was that of the daughter of the scourge of the country. He could
not forget that; he touched the hand of the child of the man who had
brought desolation into the home of the Rossignols.
Noémi left the attendants with her horse at the foot of the steep ascent
that led to the Church of Guillem.
The ascent was up a slope of crumbled chalk and flints hardly held
together by a little wiry grass, some straggling pinks, and bushes of
box and juniper. The incline was as rapid as that of a Gothic
house-roof. Of path there was none, for every man who scrambled up
mounted his own way, and his footprints sent shale and dust over the
footprints of his predecessor. The plateau through which the river has
sawn its way is some four hundred feet at the highest point above the
bed of the stream; in some places the cliffs are not only perpendicular,
they overhang. They rise at once from the river that washes their bases
and undermines them, or from the alluvial flats that have been formed by
floods. This was not the case at L'Eglise Guillem. The stronghold of
Guillem occupied a terrace in the abrupt scarp where it rose out of an
immense slope of rubble, very much as at Ste. Soure, a little below it
on the further bank. Here, as there, the rubble slope was a protection
as great as a precipice. It was not as difficult to climb, but it could
not be climbed without those in the stronghold being able to roll down
rocks, discharge weapons at such as were laboriously endeavouring to
mount. Noémi reached a spring that issued from the side of the cliff in
a dribble, was received in a basin, and the overflow nourished a dense
growth of maidenhair-fern and moss. It was thence that the occupants of
the castle derived their drinking-water. Hard by was the gateway. Here
she was challenged, gave her name, and was admitted.
L'Eglise Guillem was oddly constructed. The depth of the caves or
concave shelters was not great, not above twelve to fifteen feet,
consequently would not admit of chambers and halls in which many men
could move about. To gain space, beams had been driven into the natural
wall of rock at the back of the caves, and brought forward to project
some eight feet over the edge of the cliff. On these projecting rafters
walls of timber filled in with stone had been erected, and lean-to roofs
added to cover them, socketed into the cliff above the opening mouth of
the cave or series of caves. This is still a method of construction in
the country, with this exception--that such modern dwellings are not
pendulous in mid-air, as were those of the free captains, but are now on
solid floors, and consist of rooms, one half of which are caves, and the
other half artificial excrescences.
By means of this overhanging portion of the castle, by a ladder a
chamber could be reached, cut out in the face of the cliff immediately
above the mouth of the natural cavern, a chamber at the present day
visible, but absolutely inaccessible, since the wooden excrescence has
disappeared by which it was reached. This upper chamber was the treasury
of the castle.
To the present day not two miles up the valley of the Beune is a hamlet,
a cluster of houses, called Grioteaux, built in a huge cave, but with
the fronts somewhat beyond the upper lip of the cave; and in the face of
the precipice above is precisely such a treasure-chamber, only to be
reached by means of a ladder from the roof of the house below it.
"What--you here!" exclaimed the Great Guillem in surprise, when he saw
the girl enter the one room in which were himself and his men, about a
table, on which were scattered chalices from churches, women's
jewellery, silken dresses, even sabots plucked off the feet of peasants.
The captain was dividing spoil.
The Great Guillem was much as Jean del' Peyra had described him--tall,
gaunt, with a high head, and baldness from his forehead to the crown,
his hair sandy and turning grey, dense bushy red eyebrows, the palest of
blue eyes, and a profusion of red hair about his jaws. The mouth was
large, with thin lips, and teeth wide apart and pointed, as though they
had been filed sharp. Men said he had a double row in his jaw. It was
the mouth of a shark.
"Come here, little cat!" shouted the freebooter. "Here are we dogs of
war dividing the plunder."
"What plunder, father? Did you get all these silks and trinkets from
Ste. Soure?"
"From Ste. Soure indeed! Not that; nothing thence but wine-casks and
grain; and a fine matter we have had hauling the barrels up into our
kennel. What do you want with us, child?"
The girl looked at the men; there were a dozen, and her father the
thirteenth. They were in rough and coarse clothing, each with a red
cross on his left arm--a badge of allegiance to the Cross of St. George.
Some of the companies wore a white or blue cross when serving no
political party, but the Great Guillem was ostensibly in the English
service, and as such had been given the commandantship of Domme. The men
had been drinking, and were flushed, partly with wine, partly with
excitement, as the division of the plunder was made by lot, the lot
being a knucklebone in a bassinet. A lawless, insolent company, and one
difficult to treat with.
Noémi was puzzled what to do. But she was a bold, spirited girl, and she
said: "This is the first time I have been here. I claim largesse."
"Largesse!" laughed one of the men; "I say--the first time anyone enters
he pays footing."
"_He_, yes," said the girl; "but with a woman it is other. I claim
largesse."
"What do you mean? A share of the loot?"
"A large share," answered Noémi.
"I have two lots to one; I will surrender one to you," said Guillem.
"Of all the spoil?"
"Of all for which we are raffling."
"And the men--the seven men you took?"
"They are not in the game. We wait till the ransom comes, and that will
be divided not by lot but by shares. Money is so divided, not----" Her
father tossed over some odds and ends with which the table was cumbered.
"I want the seven men," said Noémi.
A roar of laughter greeted this demand.
"A hundred livres! That is a fine largesse," said one.
"It cannot be," said Guillem. "They belong to us all."
"Little one," shouted one half-drunken fellow, "we only divide among
ourselves--merry companions. We take from those who are outside the
band."
"But I am the Captain's daughter."
"That matters not; you are not a companion."
"Father, give me a lot."
"I will--my lot."
"And grant me a request."
"If you draw the highest lot, you shall have what you will--save a share
in the loot, and to that you can have no right. We have our laws and are
bound to abide by them."
"Let us draw, then."
The bassinet was passed round, and each drew. There were fourteen
knucklebones in it. Noémi put in her hand first and drew, then each in
succession.
"Hands open," shouted Guillem, and each fist was thrust forward on the
table and opened flat, exposing the bone. The knuckles were numbered up
to fourteen.
"Fourteen!" exclaimed Guillem, as he looked at the rude die in his
daughter's palm.
"Best of three," said a man.
"Again!" called the Captain, after the bones had been thrown into the
bassinet and shaken.
The same proceeding was gone through. Again each hand was exposed on the
table.
"Fourteen again!"
"A woman and the devil have luck!" shouted one of the men. "There is no
beating that!"
"Aye! but there is. If next time she draws one," retorted another. "She
is a woman; I wish her well."
"Ah! you Roger; always honour the petticoat."
"Again!" thundered the Captain.
Once more hands were plunged into the iron cap, withdrawn, and placed
clenched on the table.
"Reveal!" cried Guillem, and immediately the hands were turned up with
the knuckle-bones.
"Fourteen!" again he shouted, as he held up the piece his daughter had
exposed.
"Was ever luck like this!" stormed one man. "And I--I never draw above
five."
"Well; what is your request?" asked Guillem.
"You have sworn to grant it me."
"Yes; if not against rule."
"Then make me one of the Company!"
A pause, then a shout: "The Red Cross! The Red Cross! Vive the new
Companion!"
In an instant a piece of crimson silk brocade, an ecclesiastical
vestment, was torn to shreds, and the rough hands of the freebooters
were fastening two strips crosswise to Noémi's arm.