THREE CROSSES.
NO sooner had Noémi left _l'église_ than with her teeth she tore the red
cross off her left shoulder in an ebullition of wrathful resentment.
She rode, attended by the two servants of the Tardes, to La Roque Gageac
without speaking.
Her mind was busy. It was clear to her that she could not remain with
her aunt after that affair at the Devil's Table. The Bishop of Sarlat
was not an energetic ruler; he might demur to making an expedition
against Domme, doubt the expediency of attempting reprisals against so
terrible a man as Le Gros Guillem, and all for the sake of a Jew, but he
could hardly allow her, who had been the mover in the robbery, to remain
in one of his towns. It would not be well for her to compromise the
Tarde family. She must go to her mother at Domme.
On arriving at La Roque, she told Jacques and Jean Tarde what she had
done.
Jacques burst out laughing. "Well done, Cousin Noémi! I am glad our
money has gone to some good purpose."
She flushed to her temples. Jean del' Peyra had not welcomed her with
commendation. He had received what she had done in an ungracious manner.
She resented this. She was bitter at heart against him. That was the
last time she would move a finger to help a Del' Peyra.
Noémi remained the night and part of next day at La Roque. Though young
and strong, she was greatly tired by the exertion she had gone through,
and by the mental excitement even more than the bodily exertion. The
distance to Domme was not great. She had but to cross the Dordogne a
couple of leagues higher in a ferry-boat and she would be at the foot of
the rock of Domme. This rock may be described as an oval snuffbox with
precipitous sides, flat, or nearly so, above, with, however, one end
somewhat elevated above the other. On this superior elevation stood the
castle or citadel. On the lower was the town, uniformly built, with a
quadrangular market-place in the midst surrounded by arcades, and every
street cutting another at right angles, and every house an exact
counterpart of its fellow.
The garrison kept guard on the walls, but their headquarters were in the
castle, where also resided their Captain, Guillem. Access to the town
was to be had by one way only, and the gate was strongly defended by
salient drums of towers. The castle had a triple defence of river, wall
and half towers, and possessed a great donjon, square and machicolated.
In 1369 it had stood a siege by the English for fifteen days, and had
repelled Sir John Chandos and all his force. Since then it had fallen
into the hands of the English through the neglect of the French crown to
provide the necessary garrison.
Noémi was attended as far as Domme by her cousins' servant. On reaching
the town it was at once manifest that something unusual had occurred
which was occupying the minds and tongues of the townspeople. The men
were gathered in knots; the arcaded market-place was full of them.
The girl entered the castle and proceeded to her mother's room. This
lady was past the middle age, finely framed and delicately featured,
still beautiful, but languid and desponding. She greeted her daughter
without impulsive affection.
"Noémi," she said, "something has happened to discompose your father. I
do not know what it is, the whole place is in commotion."
"I will go see," answered the girl.
"I do not think he wishes to be disturbed," said the lady, and sighing,
leaned back in her seat.
Noémi at once proceeded to the chamber usually occupied by Guillem, and
she saw him there, seated at a table, gnawing his nails.
The insolent, dauntless freebooter was much altered. He sat with his
elbows on the table, his fingers to his teeth, his hair ragged, his
tall, smooth head, usually polished, without its wonted gloss, his eyes
staring stonily before him.
The Captain was mortified rather than hurt. He had been driven like a
wolf athwart the woods by the peasants; smoked out of his lair by
Jacques Bonhomme, like a fox.
He had escaped from the "Church" by the skin of his teeth. Roused by the
crashing in of the roof, then by the flood of fire, he had sprung from
his bed, half-clothed, without his jerkin and boots, had seized his
sword and had fled. In an instant he had realised the impossibility of
resistance, and had run along the _mal-pas_, and, selfish in his fear,
had kicked down the plank over the chasm to secure himself from pursuit,
though at the sacrifice of his men.
He had lurked at a distance, watching his blazing castle and then had
run on. Occasionally he had all but rushed into the arms of peasants
flocking from the neighbourhood. Once, in the grey morning light, he had
been recognised and pursued, and had only saved himself by cowering
under an overhanging stone till the men had gone by.
Bootless, running over rocks and stones, and these latter in many cases
flints that were broken and cut like razors, his feet had been gashed,
and he had at length been hardly able to limp along. Prickles of briar,
spines of juniper, had aggravated the wounds, and it was with extreme
difficulty that he had reached the Dordogne, seized a boat, and rowed
himself across into territory nominally English. Even then he had not
been safe. He knew it. He must reach Domme before the tidings of the
disaster arrived, or all the subjugated country would be roused. He
broke into a farmer's stable, took his horse, and galloped with it up
the valley, nor halted till he reached the gates of Domme, where his
warder opened to him in amaze to see the governor of the town, the
captain of the garrison, arrive in such a deplorable condition.
Since his arrival, after he had bathed his feet and had them bound up,
he had been seated at his table, gnawing his nails, glaring into space,
his heart eaten out with rage, humiliation, and raven for revenge.
To have been defied by a Del' Peyra! To have been warned by his
adversary and not to have profited by the warning! Guillem's bald
forehead smoked, so hot were his thoughts within him.
Noémi stood looking at the Captain, amazed at the change that had come
over him--at his haggardness, at his stoniness of eye.
"Father, what has happened?"
"Go away! I want no women here."
"But, father, something has taken place. All Domme is in commotion. The
streets are full."
"Full!" in a scream; "talking of me--of my disgrace! Call my lieutenant;
I will send the pikemen through the streets to clear them--to silence
the chattering rogues."
"But what does this all mean, father?"
"Come here, child." He waved his arm without looking at her. She obeyed.
She stepped to his side and stood by the table.
"Father, your fingers are bleeding; you have gnawed them."
"Have I? It matters not. My feet are bleeding, my brain is bleeding, my
honour is bled to death."
"What has happened?"
He took her hand. The only soft part in this terrible man was his love
for Noémi, and that was rarely shown.
"What are the Del' Peyras to you?" he asked roughly.
"Nothing, father."
He looked round, caught her steady eye, winced, and turned his away.
"So--nothing. Why did you then ransom these men?"
"Because, father, I had pity for the men themselves."
"Why?" He could not understand this simple, natural, elementary feeling.
She did not answer him, but loosened her hand from his; she took the
torn strips of red silk that had formed her cross and put them on the
table before him. "I renounce my companionship," she said.
He did not regard her words or her action.
"I am glad the Del' Peyras are nothing to you. I swear----" He sprang up
but sank again. He could not bear to stand on his mangled feet. "I swear
to you, I swear to all Périgord I will root them out; I will not leave a
fibre of them anywhere. I will let all the world know what it is to
oppose me."
"What has been done, father?"
Again he turned his face, but could not endure her clear eyes.
"I cannot tell you. Ask others."
Steps were audible in the anteroom, and Roger and Amanieu entered. They
saluted.
"Captain," said Roger, "we only are come."
"And the others?"
"Ten of them--made to leap the beam."
"Yes, Captain, and the Seigneur del' Peyra sent his compliments to you,
and was sorry your legs were so long. You'll excuse me, Captain, they
were his own words; he made me swear to repeat them. He was very sorry
your legs were so long. He cut ten crosses in the stone, one for each of
the comrades, and, said he, there was room for another, and he'll do you
the honour of making its legs long also, if he has the chance of
catching you."
Guillem gnashed his teeth; the blood rushed into his eyes. He glared at
the messenger.
"I think, Captain, you might have left us the plank," said Amanieu. "As
it was, we had to borrow one from the peasants."
"Send me the lieutenant. This can only be wiped out in blood!" roared
the Gros Guillem, in spite of his wounded feet, leaping into an upright
position. "I care not that I am lamed--I care not--I shall be lifted
into my saddle. I will not eat, I will not sleep till I have revenged
myself and the murdered ten, and my burnt castle and this outrage on my
honour."
"I am here, Captain," said the lieutenant, stepping forward. He had
entered along with the returned companions. In the blindness of his
agony of mind and rage Guillem had not noticed him.
The filibuster turned his face to the lieutenant. It was terrible. His
red but grizzled hair, uncombed, shaggy with sweat, electrified and
bristling with the fury that was in him, his pale eyes and red suffused
balls, his great mouth with pointed fangs, the lower jaw quivering with
excitement, made his appearance terrible.
"Lieutenant!" shouted Guillem; "call out all the men available--all but
such as must remain to guard the castle and this cursed disloyal town,
in which every citizen is a traitor. Muster them outside the castle;
bring forth as many horses as we have. If I am carried, I will go. At
once, before these peasants have recovered their astonishment, because
they surprised us when we were asleep: at once, as swiftly as possible,
to chastise them. Cut down every peasant in arms: give no quarter, but
above all, take me Ogier del' Peyra. I will pay fifty livres for him--to
any man--to have him taken alive. I do not desire him dead; I must have
him alive. Do you mark me? First of all, Del' Peyra. At once, before
they expect reprisals--at once."
His hand was on the table. In his fury he shook it as if it had been his
enemy he was grappling.
"To horse, Roger and Amanieu, and revenge your wrongs, as I will revenge
mine."
"Pardon me, Captain," said Roger. "What is this I see? the red silk
cross--what? has she taken this off and renounced companionship? So do
I. I cannot serve against the father Del' Peyra or the son who spared my
life." He plucked at the cross on his shoulder, then with his dagger
unripped it, tore it, and threw it on the table.
"Nor I," said Amanieu surlily, "not because they spared me, but because
you kicked down the plank." And he also tore off his cross and flung it
on the table.