THE SAXON'S REVENGE.
"E'en these, when of their ill-got spoils possess'd,
Find sure tormentors in the guilty breast."
Homer.
The same night, following the tragic ending of the tournament, and about
two hours after Curfew had rung out its warning to churls, housecarles,
and Saxons, all and sundry, who should be caught abroad after the bell
had voiced the hour, there were seated in the Abbot's room two
individuals engaged in a most earnest conversation. The look of deadly
malignity on their countenances, and the low, fierce oaths with which
they frequently emphasised their speech, was palpable evidence that they
plotted mischief. Though one of them had partially divested himself of
his attire, there was that about his dress which betokened that it was
strangely out of keeping with the language he was using, and the
business he was engaged in. The other was dressed in soldier's attire,
and in the sturdy figure we easily recognise Pierre, confidante and
willing tool of Baron Vigneau, and the sharer in most of his villainous
exploits. The Abbot's room was spacious and lofty, and he had had it
hung with costly silken hangings, and rich Turkish carpets covered the
floor. The furniture also was of carved oak, delicate in workmanship,
and of priceless value; for many handicraftsmen of great skill and
experience came over with the Normans, or followed in the wake of the
soldiery. On an exquisitely carved cabinet had been hastily thrust the
remains of a substantial repast of boiled capon and venison cutlets;
whilst on the table between them were two silver tankards containing
good Rhenish wine, and from which libations, copious and frequent, were
poured down two throats which it seemed impossible to effectually slake.
Several letters on parchment, with the massive seal of De Montfort
impressed upon them, were lying on the table betwixt them, the contents
of which had been duly read over to Pierre by the Abbot; and the
following conversation was proceeding:--
"No doubt," said the Abbot, "the whole thing was arranged by the cunning
old fox De Montfort and his daughter. The make-believe of a foreign
cousin was a ruse to prevent the exposure of the Saxon villain. His
advent, also, was so timed that not the slightest opportunity was given
to any one to see through his disguise; and he spoke the Norman language
well."
"Well, I have often wondered at De Montfort's leniency to those Saxon
wolves on the hills. He professed to send for help to William when he
was at York last; but there has been no help forthcoming," said Pierre.
"I don't believe he ever sent such message; but the devil himself is not
more cunning than De Montfort, and, unless we act promptly, he'll
circumvent _us_."
"Well, what's the business? Are you going to make use of those letters,
and have him brought to book promptly?"
"That is it. What I wish, is that you, Pierre, should take this matter
in hand; for it must be done by some one with sufficient courage and
determination. I should like you to proceed forthwith to the court of
his Majesty William, and lay before him these damning proofs of De
Montfort's treachery. If you will undertake this, I confidently
anticipate that within three months the traitor's head will be suspended
over the gates of his castle. That done, I shall urge my suit for the
possession of his forfeited lands, with well-assured success. Then,
trust me, I will humble the pride of his haughty and scornful daughter.
She shall know promptly, for I will teach her, that though Vigneau is
dead, Vigneau still lives. I love her, and I hate her, and when she is
in my power I will have my fill of both love and hate, mark me! I will
have quits for all I owe her, for she has not only compassed the death
of my brother, but she has thwarted me here constantly, by taking under
her protection that old hypocrite Adhelm (meaning myself). I'll be
revenged on both of them at a blow, mark me, Pierre!"
"Humph! This sounds well and good, your Reverence, no doubt, from your
standpoint; but, if you will excuse me, I didn't see very clearly at
what point Pierre came in when these good things were to be distributed.
Now, it appears that I shall figure very prominently in the work of
scotching this snake. So, so! well and good, revenge may be very sweet
to you, and maybe it will be sweet to me; I'll not deny I like the
flavour of it, but, after that, what additional? I shall want either the
skin or the carcase, certainly, if I shoot the deer; if not, why, marry,
I'll never bruise my shins in the chase. So, will you please point out
where this thing is to be profitable to me? Devil's work, you know,
should be well paid, for we must scorch for it by-and-bye, must we not,
eh?"
"Thou shalt have everything I am able to bestow, Pierre; and thou shalt
find that in my exalted position my powers of promotion will be equal to
thy deserts. How sayest thou? wilt thou try the monk's calling? Nothing
easier! I was a soldier ere I donned the _hair shirt_, eh! and took to
mortifying the flesh, as thou well knowest I have done most rigidly at
all times."
"Marry, 'tis quite true, the devil himself would vouch for it; and a
merry jest it is. And now, after your Reverence's example, there's no
saying, but we may expect the devil himself to turn monk some day; and,
in faith, by copying your Reverence closely, he'd make more sinners
in't, than he would by his old tricks;" and Pierre laughed most
immoderately.
"Thou hadst ever a sharp tongue, Pierre, and little regard for thy
betters; but I absolve thee. Nevertheless, I advise _thee_ to the _holy_
calling also. Then what could hinder me bestowing upon thee my Abbot's
office? The best of all things would be at thy command--ease, wine,
wenches, and a jolly fat trencher at all times. I warrant thee there is
no life so merry and so bountiful as the command of a good fat
monastery."
"Bravo!" shouted Pierre, who was immensely tickled by the Abbot's
suggestion; and, bursting again into a roar of laughter, he cried,
"well, this is too rich for anything! Pierre turned _Saint_; ha, ha, ha!
'Twould be after the most godly example of your Grace, I trow. Ha, ha!
good! I'll wash it down, anyhow;" and he raised the tankard to his lips,
and cried, "Drink to't, your Reverence. Here's to _Saint Pierre of pious
memory_;" and promptly he drained the tankard to the bottom; then,
bringing it down again with a bang upon the table, he fairly roared with
laughter.
"Thou art an ass, Pierre! An arrant ass!" said the Abbot, who was
considerably nettled at the freedom with which Pierre made a jest of him
and his office. "Canst thou not see that after the Baron's death De
Montfort will soon be quit of us if we cannot checkmate him? To jest
under the gallows, and end it by swinging on them, is fool's work."
"Well, well, I'll turn the matter over carefully, I think," said Pierre
a little more soberly. "Your Grace has done it, and I think there is
something in it. I don't know how the sneaking method of doing things,
after the dare-devil manner familiar to me, will suit my stomach. I have
always liked the chase better than the game, and I confess I would
rather fight it through, come what may.
"But," said he, bursting into a loud guffaw, as the ludicrousness of his
turning monk thrust itself upon him, and relapsing again into the
jocularity and bitter sarcastic tone familiar to him,--
"Now that _you_ recommend it so strongly, I think I will retire from
_active duties_, and grow fat and wheezy like yourself. Anyhow, it
stands to reason, the bigger the paunch the more good sack wine it will
hold, and that is an item. True, too, a lazy life and a lascivious
appetite are bound to go together. Less force to labour, and more to
lechery; that's the sum of it. I think I come to't, your Reverence.
Beshrew me! what would any man have? for if he lust lustily, and be a
jolly trencherman to boot, with his fill provided to him, what can he
wish for more? My hand on it, your Reverence! I'll undertake the
venture. It is a mad hazard, but I like it none the worse for that!"
"Then when wilt thou start on thine errand, Pierre? Time is precious.
The Count knows I have possession of those letters, and, mark me, he
will circumvent us if he can."
"Line my pocket with gold pieces and I'll start at cock crowing, and De
Montfort may catch me if he can, when once I get the start of him."
Slowly at that instant the door opened behind them, and Oswald, Wulfhere
and a couple of attendants, armed to the teeth, entered, and closed the
door behind them, whilst one stout yeoman set his back against it. The
countenance of Vigneau fell on the instant as though a sword had pierced
him, and he became livid as death. Hastily clutching at the letters
lying on the table, he endeavoured to thrust them into a recess of the
cabinet, and he fairly cowered in abject terror before these strange
visitants. On the contrary, Pierre whipped out his broadsword, and
fiercely stood at bay; his savage valour being in striking contrast to
the crouching cowardice of the Abbot.
"Give place, master," said Wulfhere, advancing on Pierre; "this fellow
is mine. You have already had your revenge. Now, blood-thirsty villain,"
said he, addressing Pierre, "I told thee, did I not, that the time would
come when thou shouldest answer to me for thy cruelties and murders? the
time has come now; and thou canst no longer shirk the fate that has long
awaited thee."
"Did I ever shirk meeting thee, or any churlish Saxon in Britain? Give
me fair play, and I'll give thee a speedy passage to the devil, sirrah!"
said Pierre savagely, striding towards Wulfhere.
So the two stood upon their guard. The Abbot shrinking in mortal terror
in one corner, whilst Oswald and his followers looked on in anxious
suspense; for they knew well the strength and brutal valour of Pierre,
who was ever foremost in any fray, and equally an adept at either stroke
or thrust. Wulfhere also was second to none amongst the Saxon outlaws in
skill and strength, or personal bravery. Toe to toe for a moment they
stood eyeing each other with lips set, and mortal enmity in their eyes.
Then stroke and thrust and parry followed each other in rapid
succession. The rapid advancing or retiring, as each one gave or
received a stroke, by these powerful gladiators, wrought the spectators
to such a pitch of excitement that they held their breath almost to
suffocation. But the climax came in a totally unexpected manner.
Wulfhere drove at his antagonist a powerful sweep of his sword, but
Pierre effectually interposed his sword and parried the blow. Such was
the force of the blow, however, that the treacherous weapon flew in two,
the point striking the opposite side of the room, and the hilt, with
half the broken blade, remaining in Wulfhere's hand. Ere Oswald could
interpose between them, Pierre shouted,--
"Aha! Now I have you!" and rushed in with a furious lunge at Wulfhere's
body.
The words were true enough, but not in the sense in which Pierre had
uttered them; for with lightning-like agility Wulfhere sprang aside, and
the glittering weapon slid harmlessly into the empty air beyond him. So
confident, however, had Pierre been of the helplessness of his opponent,
and so confident of the deadliness of his thrust, that he took no
precaution whatever of his own body. The eager rush also of his own
onslaught, coupled with the force with which Wulfhere drove the broken
blade at him, caused it to pass clean through his body, and, with a
groan and a half-uttered oath, he fell forward on his face, dead.
The Abbot, as he witnessed the close of the tragic scene, literally
crawled to the feet of Oswald, begging piteously for mercy. One of the
men-at-arms who accompanied Oswald, advanced upon him, and said,--
"Leave him to me, master. Now, dastardly fiend!" said he, addressing the
Abbot, "there has come a reckoning day even for you. You remember the
little cot out yonder befouled by your infamous presence. You know the
boy murdered by you in cold blood, and waiting to be avenged until this
hour. The time has come at last."
"Have mercy upon me," moaned the Abbot, "and I will recompense you
liberally. Take this gold chain," said he, removing a massive gold chain
from his neck, "it is very valuable, and I will give thee more."
"If you think a gold chain will recompense me for my dead child, base
hound, you are greatly mistaken. His blood cries for vengeance, and I
will exact it now."
As he spoke he raised his sword, and at a blow he severed the Abbot's
head from his body.
"This is most ghastly work," said Oswald, "and to be done within the
sacred precincts of this edifice it is most deplorable. But surely
iniquities such as these men have constantly and unblushingly
perpetrated call for most drastic remedies. Men, gather up these bodies,
and bury them deep in the woods before the dawn."
The two men-at-arms called in some of their fellows who were watching in
the corridors outside, and, swathing the bodies in the Abbot's robes,
they hurried along the corridors and out of the grounds, bearing their
ghastly burden to secret burial in the forest.
Oswald and Wulfhere remained behind engaged in diligent search.
"There are certain documents possessed by this man which are of vast
importance to some one I would like to serve," said Oswald. "We must
find them, if possible, ere we quit this place. I saw the Abbot hastily
remove some papers as we entered, as though he was exceedingly anxious
to conceal them. I strongly suspect they are the letters I would fain
lay hands upon."
So saying, he advanced to the cabinet, and throwing it open, almost
immediately drew forth the letters which had well-nigh had such dire
effects upon the life and happiness of Alice De Montfort. Oswald gave an
exclamation of pleased surprise as the seal of De Montfort caught his
eye, and, hastily unfolding them, he eagerly ran over their contents one
by one, and, as he gathered their import, he said to Wulfhere,--
"These are indeed a treasure more precious than gold. They bear evidence
of one fatal mistake on the part of one whose astuteness is otherwise
marvellous; and they have been an instrument of terror to the author of
them for a long time. Now this dread secret will henceforth be sealed
for ever. Sealed it is in the death of those who knew and used it so
unscrupulously; and it will soon be sealed in the destruction of these
documents."
So he hastily thrust them into his bosom, and they continued their
search. But nothing further that had any bearing upon the subject could
be found.
"Our work in this place is evidently at an end for the present," said
Oswald. "So let us be gone, for I would finish this day's work. I wot
there are some who at this moment are in terrible suspense, and are
awaiting in well-nigh mortal terror for the further development of this
tragedy. So let us away, the night is still young, and there is a voice
eagerly calling for me."