THE JOUST, SAXON AND NORMAN.
"The age of chivalry is gone. That of sophisters, economists,
and calculators has succeeded."--Burke.
The time had now come about on which De Montfort had promised his
daughter to Vigneau. As was the wont invariably of the Normans, the
ceremony must be preceded by the usual festivities, the most marked of
which was the tournament, or feat of arms. During the reign of our late
king Edward, this was one of the things in which the idle and dissolute
Norman nobility who came over in swarms spent their time. To my very
great sorrow and disappointment, the Saxon nobility copied only too
slavishly this vain and foolish propensity, many of the Saxons being
quite a match for the most skilful of the Normans. For some weeks before
the marriage festivities were to begin, messengers had been sent out to
the various Norman encampments situate within a reasonable distance; and
many knights were expected to take part in the joust. The place which
was selected for this spectacle was near to the castle, and well adapted
for the humbler people, who never failed to gather in considerable
numbers. The tournament would take place in a considerable hollow, with
green hillsides and dense copses around, where a multitude might witness
the wondrous pageantry and the struggle for the honours of the day. The
central arena, where the knights were to contend, was a spacious
enclosure, railed round to the height of about four feet, having two
means of entrance and exit, one at each side, directly opposite each
other, the one used as an entrance solely. There knights, squires,
marshals, judges, etc., were to enter in all the panoply of war and
glittering accoutrements. The other opening was used exclusively for
purposes of exit. Here discomfited knights, disabled horses, and others
who wished to retire might emerge. To the right of the main entrance was
a raised platform, covered with rich tapestry, and capable of seating
some fifty persons. Upon this platform was a dais, or raised central
platform of small dimensions, on which the throne, an elegantly
upholstered chair, was placed, and designed for the occupation of the
"Queen of Beauty." The crowd were kept waiting considerably after the
appointed time, in anticipation of an expected knight from over the sea;
from whom a messenger had been sent, announcing his intention of taking
part in this knightly fray. Eventually, however, Count de Montfort, amid
a flourish of trumpets, issued from the gates of the castle, with his
daughter leaning upon his arm, followed by two of her maids and a
formidable retinue of invited guests, amongst whom was the Abbot
Vigneau, and one or two other ecclesiastics, and a number of Norman
guests. De Montfort escorted his daughter to the throne, and Jeannette
occupied a seat to the right of her. Most fascinatingly lovely was Alice
as she sat in the place of honour, with the victor's chaplet by her
side. Pale, nervous, and anxious, but a veritable queen withal she
looked--her lustrous dark eyes, and masses of dark wavy hair flowing in
graceful undulations over her shoulders, and down to her girdle; her
head crowned with a coronet of beautiful flowers, and one solitary gem
in the centre. All eyes were upon her. Men of gentle blood marvelled at
her surpassing loveliness. Norman men-at-arms and Saxon churls turned
dazed and dreamy eyes towards her, with a persistent gaze as of
fascination. Most of those present, whether gentle or simple, knew well
the manner of man her betrothed was; for Vigneau was notorious in the
camp and the cot for his gross villainy; and most knew, or surmised,
that to-morrow's nuptial tie would be to her a most hateful tie, and a
most unhappy union.
Jeannette sat close to her mistress; but no dark cloud frowned ominously
over her as over her mistress. Volatile and mercurial to a degree, she
never courted trouble, or recognised his unwelcome visage until it was
thrust upon her; though, like most natures of a like temperament, when
once fairly cornered, as we have seen, the collapse was pitiable and
complete. There, however, she sat, perfectly self-possessed, with an
irrepressible flutter of expectation in her heart and unfaltering
confidence in her star, which was the wonderful and valorous Wulfhere,
whom that day she should see companying with knights and men of renown.
There was more than a wonted animation in her eye, and the roses on her
cheek had taken a deeper and a rosier tint. All agog with the pleasing
promptings of her fluttering little heart, she ran her eyes along the
ranks of the common people who lined the enclosure, or stood together in
groups, discussing the merits of the combatants who were to take part,
and the spectacle which every one looked forward to with such zest. But
Saxon and Norman alike of inferior station were to her contemptible; and
as her eyes fell upon Paul Lazaire, who with despondent gaze looked at
her, she could not restrain a saucy and coquettish smirk of laughter,
which Paul, who thought she never looked half so lovely before, put a
favourable construction upon, and was greatly comforted.
"Jeannette," said Alice, turning to her anxiously, "I fear the day will
be disastrous, and the Saxon knight will be discovered. That would be
most fearful; I don't think I could survive it."
"Don't be alarmed, my lady; I am not in the least. Wulfhere and the Earl
will be a match for them all, I'm sure."
"But, Jeannette, what could a single knight do, contending with so many
foes?"
"One knight truly would not do much; but you forget, my lady, that he is
sure to be accompanied by his valiant squire."
"But a solitary esquire would not be of much use. If the Earl be
discovered, he would be surrounded and cut to pieces."
"Never fear, my lady, you will see Wulfhere will protect him. He'll soon
make an end of a score of this beer-drinking crew."
"Really, Jeannette," said Alice, smiling in spite of herself, "you have
a good deal of faith in this Wulfhere."
"Why should I not? He is as pretty a man, and just as valiant as his
leader, and I never intend to halt for want of faith, or starve for want
of hope. Besides, don't you know there has been given to me an
_omen_?--and I have noticed that they always come true if you have faith
in them."
"Oh, indeed! Pray, what is the _omen_ you have had, Jeannette?"
"Well, last night when I went to bed it was not quite dark, and I have a
little window in my room which overlooks a certain spot in the wood
which I shall not tell you about, for it is my _tryste_."
"Your _tryste_, Jeannette? I am afraid you will never cease your
coquetry and foolishness. But your _omen_, Jeannette?"
"Well, I was telling you. It was not dark when I went to bed, so I sat
down in front of this window which faces the place where the Saxon and I
meet."
"_The Saxon_, Jeannette?"
"Yes, my lady, the Saxon Wulfhere. Well, in front of the window I told
my beads for a full hour or more."
"Told your beads, Jeannette I Why, was that to Wulfhere, or to our
Blessed Lady?"
"To our Lady, of course, though I was thinking about Wulfhere. But I
said my _aves_ and _paters_ to our Blessed Lady most dutifully. Then,
when I went to bed, I put my beads under my pillow as usual, and I soon
fell asleep. Then I dreamed such a strange and wonderful dream. I dreamt
that I was walking through the woods all alone, when I was startled by a
horrid, howling noise behind me, and, turning round, I beheld a number
of fierce wolves pursuing me. I ran for my life, but they ran faster
than I did, and just as the first one was about to grasp me with its
fearful teeth, who should come to my rescue but Wulfhere. I sprang into
his arms, and just as he clasped me safely the wolves all turned tail
and ran off into the wood as though they had been whipped, for they ran
as fast as they could scamper, and howled fearfully. Then I saw there
was a holy man with Wulfhere, with whitened beard, and bearing a
crucifix with our Blessed Lord thereon. This holy man took my rosary
from my hand, and he placed it around my neck. Then he took my hand and
joined it with Wulfhere's. After this, Wulfhere kissed me and placed a
ring on my finger, and I was his wife. Then the holy man placed his
hands on us as we kneeled before him, and he gave us his blessing. But,
wonderful to tell, in the morning when I awoke, I knew it had all taken
place as I dreamed; for I found the rosary was indeed around my neck,
though I am almost certain I put it under my pillow the night before. I
also felt most distinctly Wulfhere's kiss upon my cheek; and, when I
looked in the glass, sure enough there was a little rosy spot around
this little dimple on my cheek where he kissed me."
Jeannette's invaluable optimism and unflagging hopefulness, though
simple almost to the verge of childishness, did much to fortify Alice
for the trying ordeal before her. In spite of her anxiety, she laughed
outright at the recital of Jeannette's dream. Presently, at the sound of
the trumpet the castle gates were again thrown open, and forth issued a
gaily dressed cavalcade; heralds, marshals, judges, leading the way, and
followed by eight or ten knights armed _cap-a-pie_, each one being
attended by his esquire. Alice scrutinised closely each knight as they
severally filed past her, and dipped the point of their lances in
salutation.
"The Saxon is not here. Some accident, I fear, has happened," she
tremulously whispered to Jeannette.
"Don't agitate yourself, my lady; they will not fail us. Wulfhere said I
should see his face this day; but I was to be careful not to show my
recognition of him, or I should probably betray them."
Now the scene presented an animated appearance, as the knights and their
esquires ranged themselves on opposite sides of the enclosure, whilst
the heralds, marshals, and judges rode between the ranks, examining the
points of each combatant's lance, to see that each one was blunt, and
such as was allowed by the laws of the tourney.
Meanwhile, Norman soldiers crowd round the enclosure, whilst here and
there groups of Saxons are wedged amongst them. Some half-dozen Saxon
churls have been stood together on the outskirts of the crowd for some
time, engaged in eager conversation. A careful observer would perceive
that, despite their cowed and woe-begone appearance, they have some
common purpose in view. They each of them carry a quarter staff,--not a
formidable weapon, it is true; but no formidable weapon would be
permitted them. At one end of those staves they have deftly inserted
stout steel goads, which no casual observer would detect. I was first
attracted to this group, in particular, by having observed them obey
certain signals given by their leader. But my eyes turned on all
occasions naturally and sympathetically to the Saxon portion of the
crowd; and the result of my diligent scrutiny of this little band was
quickened by my discovery of the fact that the leader was none other
than Badger. Presently they divide themselves into couples and take
their stand equidistant from each other, along with the spectators who
line the enclosure. Soon, by dint of pushing and wriggling, they force
their way close to the railings' side.
Now, at a signal the trumpet again sounds, and a marshal rides into the
centre of the arena, and reads the proclamation and rules of the
tourney. Just at that moment, however, a piercing blast from a horn in
the distance makes the greenwood ring again. Immediately from the leafy
bower there emerges a knight tall of stature, and mail-clad from head to
foot. On his shield he bears a device of the rising sun on a field vert,
and as the rays of the midday sun smite upon his helmet and
breast-plate, the refulgence thereof is as of molten gold. He rode a
handsome charger, whose trappings and housings were richly embroidered
and resplendent with many strange devices. In close attendance rode his
squire, bearing his lance and shield; he also was of brawny and athletic
build, like his master. He had on a helmet with harness of link mail.
His face and hands, which were uncovered, seemed deeply tanned, as
though they had been subjected to long exposure in some sunny clime.
Behind the knight and his esquire there rode a couple of men-at-arms,
bronzed and brown as the squire.
It was soon buzzed about amidst the crowd that this was the foreign
knight for whose advent the tourney had been delayed a full hour. The
knight and his squire were admitted into the enclosure at once; but the
couple of men-at-arms stood without. There was a brief consultation with
the stewards in the Norman tongue, and the explanations were evidently
satisfactory, for the knight rode on. And as he passed the dais, where
sat the Queen of Beauty, he dipped the point of his lance and bowed low.
The crimson flood mounted to Alice's face and neck, as she, with great
nervousness, acknowledged the salute. This momentary flush, followed by,
if possible, a still deeper pallor and greater agitation, did not escape
the notice of our Abbot, who turned keen and scrutinising glances, first
on the knight, and then on Alice. He was suspicions as usual. Could it
be possible that there was some love entanglement between these two
which boded evil to his brother the Baron? Hitherto, none had appeared
in the lists, saving knights who would probably be easily overthrown by
Vigneau. Though this was but a joust of courtesy, yet the ignominy of
being unhorsed, he knew, would exasperate his brother into desperation.
This knight of commanding stature, and of warlike appearance and renown,
introduced an element of grave uncertainty into the day's contest. There
was, further, the gravest suspicion that this stranger knight was
imported on purpose to frustrate his brother's union with Alice, a union
which, he knew, was cordially detested by both father and daughter. The
Baron also, suspicious by disposition, with lowering brow glared upon
the stranger from behind his visor, and hated him at sight.
Not that he feared being overthrown, for his self-confidence was
unlimited. His great weight and personal strength and skill had borne
him to victory in many a famous joust in times past, and he was
contemptuous of any rival he might chance to meet. But a knight young,
handsome, and well-appointed as this stranger, might yet, with De
Montfort's connivance, wrest the prize from his grasp. He swore a deep
oath under his breath, and grasped his lance with a keener clutch.
Clearly he meant mischief.
The preliminaries being now over, the knights wheeled into line and
faced each other, ready for the signal to charge, their squires being in
close attendance behind. Vigneau and the stranger knight found
themselves opposed by antagonists much smaller in stature, and
indifferently horsed. The trumpeter stood at the head of the lists,
bugle in hand, ready to sound the onset at a signal from De Montfort.
Excitement was visibly expressed in every countenance, the clamour of
voices having given place to a hushed suspense, which was painful and
sickening to Alice; though she saw that Vigneau and the "Knight of the
Sun" would not antagonise each other in the first shock. Now the trumpet
sends forth a shrill blast, and on the instant spurs are driven into
each charger's side, and, with a snort of pain, they dash across the
sward. There is a loud shock, and a confused and struggling mass of men
and horses. Vigneau had thrown the whole weight and strength of himself
and a powerful horse upon a feeble opponent, and both man and horse
rolled over together before him. Then, with a contemptuous oath, he
wheeled again to his place, utterly regardless of his fallen antagonist,
whose horse had kicked him severely in its plunges to regain its feet.
The "Knight of the Sun," on the other hand, rode steadily at his
opponent, and seemed rather to push him over the horse's croup than to
strike him with unmeasured force. Immediately, also, he sprang to the
ground and chivalrously assisted the fallen knight to rise, exclaiming,
as he did so,--
"None the worse, I trust, Sir Knight?"
"Only my pride hurt a little," was the reply; "but it was gallantly done
and by a worthier knight, so I yield my steed and wish you further
success; which you will have, I trow, whether I wish it or not, or I am
no judge of your mettle."
"Take your horse, Sir Knight, I have no need of him, for there is a
better in the lists, I perceive," said the stranger.
"You have my hearty wishes in the winning of it, if they will do you any
good. Just a word in your ear, nevertheless," said he, drawing close to
the "Knight of the Sun," and uttering in an undertone, whilst he
professed to be adjusting his sword-belt, "You are a stranger, Sir
Knight, but I have known Vigneau a round dozen years at least, so let me
warn you. Beware your man, and doubly so if you throw him. His ugly
carcase is charged with venom from head to foot, and no treacherous
villainy will be too mean, in order to compass his revenge."
"Thanks for your good wishes, and I will not neglect your advice; but if
he be wise, he will look to himself or he will rue it."
At the blast of the bugle, the knights who had proved victorious wheeled
into line again; one pair had failed to unhorse each other; but
evidently they were not consumed with a desire to try further their
prowess in the mimic war, for both of them retired from the fray. So
there were but four knights called upon to take part in the next
encounter and brave again the fortunes of war. The stranger knight was
now brought side by side with Vigneau, who surveyed him from head to
foot, then turned sneeringly away, growling to himself, "If length of
limb counted for anything, why, then, he would be formidable enough."
At the signal calling for the _ready_, each lance was laid in rest, and
each knight braced himself afresh. Springing again at the call to the
charge, the turf flew from the horses' hoofs, and the shock, in more
than one instance, was enough to throw the horses on their haunches. The
"Knight of the Sun" and Vigneau were again victorious; but the latter
had met a doughtier opponent than he had bargained for, for he had
received a vigorous and well-aimed blow at the pit of his stomach,
discomposing most unpleasantly its contents, and causing his head to
swim with sickly qualms. He recovered his balance quickly, however, much
more quickly than he recovered from the fury of his temper; for, as he
faced about to meet the "Knight of the Sun," he poured out a volley of
fierce oaths at Pierre, who was too slow in his attentions to him. The
tall squire of the stranger dismounted and ran his eyes over the
trappings of his master's steed, tightening a girth here and there, and
whispering to his master as he did so, "He is strong and heavy; it were
better policy to dodge his blow, I think, for he is unmistakably clumsy
and slow."
"That is the very thing I have been turning over in my mind, and I think
I will try it. Hand me a shorter lance, will you?"
The squire immediately reached him a lance shorter by some feet; and the
bugle sounded again for the ready amid breathless silence. The whole
scene floated dimly before the sickened gaze of Alice, who was but half
conscious of what was passing in the lists; though she realised with
painful vividness that Vigneau and the stranger were now opposed to each
other. Jeannette put her arm around her mistress and held a small silver
flask of rich scents to her nose, whispering gently to her,--
"Courage, lady! all goes well, never fear. The stranger will be the
victor."
Now the combatants brace themselves for the final charge and for
victory. The "Knight of the Sun" grasps his short lance with sinews of
iron, whilst his gaze is intent upon the weapon of his antagonist. The
signal is given, and the chargers bound like an avalanche across the
intervening space. There is a quick swerve of the stranger's body, and
Vigneau's lance passes like a flash over the mailed arm of the knight, a
clear miss. Righting himself as deftly as he had swerved, and without
permitting the point of his lance to deviate one iota from its mark, he
closed in a deadly shock with the bulky Norman. The lance he held was so
short that they seemed almost to rush into each other's arms; but the
point was direct for his antagonist's chest. Vigneau, with an oath at
the failure of his stroke, let go his lance, and aimed a blow with his
clenched fist at his antagonist; but his act of blind fury was utterly
futile and vain; with unerring aim the stranger struck him full on his
steel breast-plate. There was a loud crash of tearing girths, and
Vigneau rolled ignominiously to the ground amid a motley heap of horses,
harness, and trappings.
Alice's head dropped on Jeannette's shoulder as she faintly asked,
"Who's victor, Jeannette?"
"The stranger, lady; courage, courage! Vigneau is ignominiously
overthrown."
"Thank God!" she ejaculated feebly, and her eyes closed in
insensibility.
All eyes were now turned with a strange fascination towards the two
antagonists, for Vigneau sprang to his feet, drew his broadsword, and
brandishing it in the air like a demon, shouted "_Joute a l'outrance!_
Come on, varlet! it is to the death!"
The Abbot rushed into the arena, vainly endeavouring to restrain the
blind fury of his brother; but with an oath the Baron threw him off, and
rushed at his antagonist, who by this time had dismounted and stood on
his guard. Fiercely exasperated, Vigneau rained blow upon blow, with the
fury of a madman, whilst the stranger contented himself with coolly
parrying or receiving on his shield the frantic blows of his assailant.
The volcano-like rage of Vigneau quickly expended itself uselessly; soon
limp, and spent, and utterly blown, he aimed a last blow with greatly
diminished force. The stranger received it on his shield, whilst with
concentrated energy he sprang upon Vigneau; his broadsword divided the
air like lightning, and descended on the nape of Vigneau's neck, cutting
clean through his armour, and well-nigh severing his head from his body.
Vigneau threw up his arms wildly in the air as he dropped into his
brother's arms, and shrieked frantically in his death agony, "_The
Saxon! 'Tis the Saxon!_"
The cry acted like magic upon the whole multitude. Men sprang into the
arena shouting madly to each other they knew not what. Horses reared and
snorted, and plunged in dire confusion. The ruse also so consummately
planned by Badger, in case of any hitch or exposure, was vigorously
acted out. On the instant he and his comrades leaped into the arena, and
deftly dodged in and out amongst the horses, and vigorously applied
their goads to their flanks and sides, increasing the disorder and
confusion a hundredfold.
Meantime, whilst the vengeful and sanguinary combat between the
champions had been going on, the stranger's squire had seized the reins
of Vigneau's charger as the spoil of the victor; but Pierre sprang at
him in fierce resistance, and immediately the two squires also became
engaged in a passage of arms as fiercely and as determinedly as their
masters. Promptly Badger gave Wulfhere a vigorous push, which separated
the pair. Then in a low tone, but unmistakably in earnest, he said,
"Zounds, man! what are you doing? and where are your eyes? Can you not
see there is not a moment to lose? Do you not see the Norman has
detected your master? Fly, man, quick! or you're a dead man, and Oswald
also."
Wulfhere, thus suddenly awakened to the peril of the situation, promptly
took Badger's advice and vaulted into his saddle. But his blood was up,
and as he did so, he turned to Pierre, and said,--
"I'll take care we meet again, villain, never fear. Then we will see
whether aught will save thee from the fate which has befallen thy
master, and which has been dogging thy heels this many a day."
Oswald, the stranger knight, also by this time fully comprehended the
peril of the situation, and that if they would save their lives flight
was their only resource. So promptly he sprang into the saddle, and
immediately made for the gate, followed by Wulfhere. The two men-at-arms
without the arena had been watching the movements of Oswald and Wulfhere
with feverish anxiety, irresolute whether to rush in to effect a rescue
or not. But no sooner did they see them make for the entrance than they
pushed their horses amid the spectators, and vigorously plying the flats
of their swords upon the shoulders of the churls who thronged and choked
the way, they quickly cleared a passage; whilst Badger and his party
continued to maintain a state of dire confusion in the enclosure. As
soon as the entrance was passed the safety of the Saxons was assured,
and at once falling into the rear of their leader, they dashed across
the plain, and were lost in the woods ere any one comprehended for
certain what strange things had happened.
Then the Abbot Vigneau strode up to De Montfort, the veins of his neck
standing out with rage and his face livid with passion, and he hoarsely
shouted,--
"I arraign thee traitor to thy king! and I will have thy head for this
treacherous act! I tell thee if thou hast successfully conspired to
murder my brother, I myself hold the letters thou wouldest give thy
right hand to possess! I will use them to the full, nor rest till thou
hast atoned with thy blood for thy treachery!"
Meantime, the scene which followed baffled description. The assembled
company could not comprehend the charges made by Vigneau, and were
bewildered at the tragic ending of what was designed for a day's
festivities.
The condition of Alice was pitiable in the extreme. With returning
consciousness she had seen the fiendish attitude of the Abbot as he
fronted her father. She had heard the wild threats of vengeance, and a
dim sense of uttermost calamity, hanging over her and her father, sent
her back again into a swoon. I roused Jeannette and her companion from
the state of helplessness into which they seemed to have relapsed, and,
under my directions, Alice was carried to her room and laid upon her
couch, whilst such restoratives as were at hand were applied to
stimulate the laggard consciousness, which seemed as though it would
never return.