The Journey
It was a beautiful summer morning, and the hills and valleys of Brittany
were flooded with sunlight. All Nature seemed exultant, and all living
things were sharing her transports. The beauty of the fields and green
woods concealed alike all traces of the last winter’s storms and the
ravages so often occasioned by men when they sow the earth with fire and
blood.
As if still more to enhance the beauty of the scene, a cavalcade was
seen approaching from the adjacent wooded heights. The riders followed
the winding road, now in groups, now singly, and sometimes were entirely
hidden from view. Clear, ringing voices, joyous laughter, and now and
then deep manly voices mingled with the neighing of horses. The
travellers were the Duchess of Brittany, her son, and attendants. The
seneschal rode in advance with two heralds, followed by Constance in a
riding-habit of green silk, mounted upon a beautiful palfrey. Höel rode
by her side, his fiery bay taking the lead whenever the road narrowed,
to make room for the Duchess’s horse. Then came Duke Arthur and Alan on
prancing black steeds. Arthur sat jauntily yet securely in his saddle,
his slight figure being a trifling burden for the noble animal, which
seemed to take pride in carrying him. He looked boyish yet
distinguished. His unusual beauty was a sufficient mark of his high
birth even if his costume had not proclaimed it. He wore a cloak of
brown silk embroidered with gold, and over it a short, dark satin mantle
tipped with ermine. From his cap waved a heron plume, fastened with
jewels. He was a figure of beauty as he rode through the charming world
about him, engaged in earnest talk with Alan. Behind the youths followed
the squires and troopers, next the Duchess’s ladies, and in the rear the
servants with the sumpter horses. It was an imposing though not a
warlike train.
Their destination was Rouen, where King Richard had arrived, not, as
Constance had hoped, to settle her affairs, but to consult with Philip
Augustus about the Crusade.[10] It was all the more urgent, therefore,
for the Duchess to seek an interview with him and ascertain his plans
before he entered upon such a long and dangerous journey. The King had
been notified of her visit and had arranged for her safe passage through
Normandy, whose frontier she was now approaching. As they emerged from
the woods Höel heard a cry and the sound of a struggle in a thicket
close at hand, and ordered a halt. Before he began an investigation, the
disturbers of the peace appeared. Two men were dragging another along,
answering his appeals with blows and abusive epithets. The victim was an
old man, and the sight aroused Arthur’s indignation. He rode up at once,
and ordered the men to give an account of their conduct, and in the
meantime to release the old man. The latter fell upon his knees and
looked up to Arthur with tearful eyes. Höel and Alan came forward and
heard the indignant protest of the two men. They declared they were
bailiffs in the service of the King of France. “This man,” they said,
pointing to the kneeling victim, “is a Jew. The last day of grace King
Philip allowed the Jews has expired.”
“Is this true?” asked Arthur.
The old man looked up and said: “Listen, most gracious Prince, for,
although I know you not, I can see the reflection of the crown upon your
brow. Yes, it is true. The great King Philip Augustus, although he has
long allowed our race to live in his kingdom, has now set his face
against us. He has said, ‘Take the staff and leave the country; any one
of you found in France after the day which I set shall die.’ The King’s
servants have hounded us. They have plundered our homes; they have
driven off our poor and wretched people. I was on my way to Holland,
where our people have freedom to live, but I was so overcome by grief
and hunger that I had to stay in the city until to-day—and now they have
caught me.”
“It looks bad for you, Jew,” said Höel, shrugging his shoulders.
The bailiffs were again about to seize their prisoner, but Arthur cried:
“Stop! Let him go free. It is my wish that he shall accompany us.”
“We are the King’s servants,” demurred the bailiffs, “and must obey his
orders.”
“I am in command here, not King Philip,” said Arthur boldly and proudly.
“I am the Duke of Brittany. Take yourselves off, or my men shall bind
you.”
The bailiffs, astonished at the delicate boy, who spoke with such
dignity, lost no time in getting away.
The Jew, when he realized that he was free, bowed to the earth before
Arthur and kissed his feet. The old man was so tattered, befouled, and
ill-favored that Arthur had some scruples about addressing him, but at
last he said, “If I protect you as far as Rouen will you then take ship
to Holland?”
The old man consented, saying, “God will help me on.”
Arthur gave him one of the packhorses, whose load was distributed among
the other animals, and ordered the servants to let him ride with them.
More quickly than might have been expected of one so weak, the Jew swung
himself into the saddle and joined the little band, which once more
resumed its march.
Constance took no part in the occurrence, and when Arthur rode up and
entreated her approval of his act she said to him with some anxiety,
“When the bailiffs complain to Philip he may be angry with you, my son.”
Arthur became thoughtful as Höel added, “The life of this Jew is of
little consequence to Philip, for whatever he has of value the King will
be sure to get.”
“How is that?” asked Arthur.
“The dispersal of the Jews was ordered to please the Pope,” said Höel,
“and out of their wealth King Philip will raise the means for arming the
Crusaders.”
“That is not kingly,” said Arthur indignantly.
“All the same they are Jews, and their treasures will be taken for the
King’s service. How can it harm them anyway? They exude gold as these
pines do pitch.”
Arthur reflected upon Höel’s words with considerable surprise and almost
regretted his display of sympathy. But when he looked back and saw the
bent figure of the Jew following the others, who shunned him, he thought
to himself, “Still, I could not let him perish.”
That evening the Duchess and her most distinguished companions stopped
at one of the stately abbeys of that region, and Arthur arranged that
the Jew should spend the night with the servants who looked after the
horses outside. They had soon become accustomed to their silent
fellow-traveller, who served them for a laughing-stock.
After the fourth day the travellers at last approached their
destination. They met crowds along the country road—haughty knights,
warriors, and pilgrims intending to take part in the expedition to
Palestine, besides ecclesiastics and monks, traders and shopkeepers. It
was a good-natured crowd, but it often obstructed our travellers, and at
times they were separated from each other. Arthur and Alan were
frequently delayed by a group going in the opposite direction; then,
laughing and shouting, they rejoined their party. But toward evening
Höel decided to ride faster, so that they might reach the city before
the gates closed. The party got more closely together, and Höel rode
along the line, urging on both people and horses. While thus engaged he
discovered that the Jew was no longer with them, and that the horse he
had been riding was quietly following the others. Höel caught it by the
bridle and looked about him to see if he were not mistaken. As he was
doing so he noticed a piece of paper tied to the saddle, with a ring
attached to it. He untied it and hastened to the Duke.
“Your ward has flown,” began Höel.
“So? Then he is both false and ungrateful,” said the Duke, in some
confusion.
“Not this time,” replied Höel. “He has left the horse and this—see
here.” He handed his find to Arthur, who took the ring from the paper
with much surprise. Upon the billet was written in Latin:
“To the Duke of Brittany, in gratitude for saving his life.—Abraham of
Paris.”
The ring was a heavy gold one with a magnificent emerald set in it.
Arthur twirled it about, delighted with its brilliancy, then put it on
his finger and placed the paper in his cloak.
“Abraham of Paris,” repeated the Duchess thoughtfully. “I well remember
that name. He is called the richest of the Paris Jews. The King often
bade him come to the court, and purchased jewels of him, and when he
needed money Abraham furnished it; but I wish nothing to be said about
our meeting him.”