KNIGHT-ERRANT AND MERCENARY.
Sir Aimand de Sourdeval, after he had been forbidden by Eadgyth of
Norwich to wear her colours openly in his helm at the tourney, had cast
about in his mind for some means of so bearing them that she should be
aware that he did so, and she alone.
Accordingly, he had a new device blazoned on his shield,--a star
shining from a band of blue sky between two barriers of sable cloud,
with the motto, '_L'esperance vit dans le bleu_,' blue being the colour
most affected by Eadgyth, and to be worn by her, he knew, at the
bride-ale.
This shield he bore with brilliant fortune in the joust, and plied his
lance so well that the highest prize was awarded to him, a lady's
bracelet gleaming with many gems, which Emma Fitzosbern handed to him
with a bright smile; while Eadgyth, who stood behind her, thrilled with
pleasure and pride that the knight who had placed his valour at her
disposal had so worthily acquitted himself, though it was but a painful
pleasure, since she deemed that an impassable gulf divided them, and
she grieved to see how, without wearing any token openly, Sir Aimand
still contrived to carry her colours. The ingenuity of the homage
touched Eadgyth to the quick, for she was no coquette, and had no wish
that a gallant youth should waste his breath in vain sighs for her
favour.
So, when Emma with a gracious compliment crowned Sir Aimand with
laurel, and handed him the prize he had won away from the many
dexterous lances and strong arms which had contended for it, Eadgyth's
eyes were full of ruth, and Sir Aimand, seeing them, grew suddenly glad
at heart.
'Nay, noble Emma,' he said, declining to take the bracelet from her
hand. 'Though my lady's eyes are as bright as the jewels that stud this
golden circlet, they look not upon me with favour, neither may I wear
her token in mine helm, nor place my trophies at her feet. Bestow the
prize, therefore, upon one of thy fair damsels whose small wrist,
peradventure, it may be of size to suit.'
So saying, he descended into the lists again, mounted his steed, and
rode away amid the cheers of the spectators.
Emma turned to the maiden beside her, and bade her hold out her wrist.
'I believe shrewdly the bracelet will fit thee,' she said; and Eadgyth,
blushing, was obliged to obey, and saw the jewelled circlet blazing
round her arm with strangely mingled feelings of triumph and sorrow.
On the day of the bride-ale, it fell to the lot of Sir Aimand, as the
youngest knight in Ralph de Guader's following, to keep ward over the
sentries of the camp, and necessarily, therefore, to be absent from the
banquet. So, while his chief was pledging his guests with pledges of
dire import, and men were feasting and revelling and vowing mad vows to
help each other's treason, and follow the three great earls in their
wild enterprise, the unconscious Knight of Sourdeval was riding through
the starlit night from outpost to outpost, passing the watchword
himself had chosen for the night.
'_Corage e bonne conscience_,' he said, as he proved each post.
'_Fait tout homme fort e fier_,' answered each sentry.
For Sir Aimand, it must be admitted, was of a romantic cast of mind,
and threw himself heart and soul into the fantastic images of chivalry
which were then being evolved by the brightest spirits of the age, and
never lost an opportunity of enforcing a good maxim, if it were only in
so small a matter as a watchword.
His young head was as full of schemes for the reformation and
improvement of the world as that of any modern Socialist; and, having
lately met a palmer who had returned from a visit to the Holy
Sepulchre, he had fallen a-dreaming on his chances of ever being able
to travel thither himself, a project which had haunted him for a long
time with more or less persistence, and which had started into
prominence again in his mind since Eadgyth had given so discouraging an
answer to his suit.
Being profoundly religious, he had been inclined to believe that her
answer was guided by Heaven to lead him back to the less worldly scheme
which had so filled his heart before he met her, and which he must have
laid aside for an indefinite period, if not for ever, if she had
consented to wed him; and he found comfort for his wounded love in the
thought that he was, perhaps, to attain a higher spiritual life through
the denial of earthly joy.
So, as he rode under the sparkling sky, his breast was full of a tender
resignation, and the thought that he was guarding the lady of his love
caused him a quiet satisfaction. He liked to feel that he was serving
her, and vowed to serve her no less zealously that she had forbidden
him ever to expect guerdon, and made all manner of silent vows to prove
himself worthy of the love he had asked, and to live knight-like and
piously, and do his _devoir_ to God and man.
So noble a frame of mind might well bring forth fruit of song, and as
he rode he hummed snatches of a _lai_ which had taken his fancy a few
weeks before, when he heard it from the lips of the author, a gallant
minstrel, who, like Taillefer the famous, was also a knight of goodly
prowess, and was devoted to the nobler branches of the _joyeuse
science_.
Sir Aimand sang but snatches to the jingle of scabbard and harness, but
this was the poem at length:--
THE WHYTE LADYE.
I.
Sir Bors went riding past a shrine,
And there a mayd her griefe did tyne.
_O sweet Marye!_
A lilye maid with cheekes all pale,
And garments whyte, and snowy veil,
Shee bitterly did weepe and wail.
_O dear Marye!_
II.
Sir Bors beheld, and straight hys brest
For pitye 'gainst his hauberke prest.
_O sweet Marye!_
'Ladye,' quod hee, 'I love thee soe,
That I toe Deth wold gladlye goe,
If I might ease thy cruel woe!'
_O dear Marye!_
III.
Shee answered, 'In a robber's hold
Lies chained a comlye knight and bold.'
_O sweet Marye!_
'Mine herte is fulle of dysmal dred
Lest hee be foully done to dedde,
For I have promised him to wedde!'
_O dear Marye!_
IV.
Then grew Sir Bors as white as shee,
And never answer answered hee.
_O sweet Marye!_
A cruel stound didde pierce his brest,
Yet soothly laid hee lance in rest,
And parted instant on his quest.
_O dear Marye!_
V.
And whilom found the robber's hold,
And freed the comlye knight and bold.
_O sweet Marye!_
And sette him on his own good steed
(Though inwardly his wounds did bleed),
And stript his hauberke for his need,
That he might be in knight-like weed.
_O dear Marye!_
VI.
And ran before him in the mire,
That hee might fitlye have a squire.
_O sweet Marye!_
Then when they reacht the lilye maid,
'Behold thy comlye knight!' he said,
And saw her chaunge from white to redde,
Then, smiling, at her feet fell dedde.
_O dear Marye!_
As Sir Aimand hummed his song, a secret joy came to his heart, for he
felt that although his plight was sad, being distasteful to his lady
for his country's sake, at least no 'comlye knight and bold' of any
other nation, Saxon or Breton, had forestalled him in her regard; of
that he felt doubly assured, for, in the first place, if it had been
so, he felt convinced that Eadgyth would have frankly avowed it, when
he begged her permission to show himself at the tourney as her knight;
and secondly, the expression he had surprised on her face when he had
refused to take the prize bracelet.
Suddenly these dreams were interrupted.
The soldier banished the lover.
Sir Aimand checked his horse, and stiffened into rigidity, like a
pointer scenting game.
Trot! trot! trot! The beat of a horse's tread leaving the camp at a
rapid pace sounded through the darkness.
Sir Aimand struck spurs into his own gallant destrier, and dashed
forward in the direction he judged the horseman was taking,
endeavouring to intercept him by cutting off an angle.
The trot changed into a gallop, and though the Norman knight even
caught sight of a dark figure hurrying through the gloom, he soon found
that his steed was no match for the one he was pursuing; but Judith's
messenger had a narrow escape.
Returning to the camp, De Sourdeval questioned the sentries; but,
finding that the horseman had issued from the quarter occupied by the
Northumbrians in the retinue of Earl Waltheof, over which he had no
jurisdiction, he was forced unwillingly to let the matter rest.
Meanwhile the camp had grown quiet. The sounds of revelry and the
mighty chorus which from time to time had burst from the palace--Sir
Aimand little guessed their dire import--had ceased, and the silence
was only broken by the occasional neigh of a horse, or whinny from some
of the mules belonging to the ecclesiastical guests, or the clash of a
sentinel's spear against his shield and jingle of his harness as he
paced his post, or perhaps some wandering owl hooting at the disturbers
of his accustomed hunting-grounds.
The east grew red with dawn, and Sir Aimand was relieved from his watch
by the knight next on duty, and went towards his own pavilion to rest.
As he passed the quarters of the Breton knights in the East Anglian
earl's following, he was hailed by a group who were still lingering at
the entrance of one of the pavilions, and talking together rather
noisily of the events of the evening. Some few of the Bretons were
vassals to Ralph de Guader, holding lands under him on his estates of
Guader and Montfort, but the greater number were adventurers whom the
earl had gathered round him, when he had determined to defy the mandate
of William against his marriage. These men were under the leadership of
one Alain de Gourin, a bold and reckless soldier of fortune, whose
guiding principle was the lining of his own purse and the obtaining a
full share of the fat of whatsoever land he might be living in. Between
this swashbuckler and De Sourdeval but little love was lost, the Norman
deeming the Breton a ruffian, and the Breton despising the Norman as a
prig, so a smothered enmity was always between them.
Therefore it was with no great alacrity that Sir Aimand answered De
Gourin's hail, especially as he guessed very shrewdly that the Bretons
had not returned very steady-headed from the banquet.
'Gramercy, Sir Aimand! Thou hast been out of the world these six
hours,' cried De Gourin, who had inherited the physical traits of his
Welsh forefathers, having blue, bulging eyes, and light eyelashes, and
truly Celtic flaming red hair, and was of a tall, wiry figure, and
capable of immense endurance, his age being about fifty. 'Come hither,
lad! We have such news for thee as will make thy heart beat faster, if
thou hast the love of a true knight for the clash of steel and the hope
of glory! Beshrew me! the man who knows how to wield his weapon will
have a chance to carve his way to fortune e'er many months are past and
gone!'
Here a knight whispered to him rather anxiously.
'Tush! Sir Aimand had been at the banquet save for the need of keeping
ward on the camp,' answered Sir Alain. 'I would have the pleasure of
seeing his delight!' he added, with a coarse laugh, and half forced the
Norman to enter the tent with him, when, pouring out a goblet of
Gascon, he challenged Sir Aimand to pledge the enterprise.
'Nay! First I must know what it is,' said the Norman.
'To unseat that upstart and usurper, William the Bastard, from his
ill-gotten seat on the throne of England, and to put a better man in
his place,' answered Sir Alain in a hectoring tone; 'and to win for
ourselves such good shares of the lands as is due to our valorous
lances.'
Sir Aimand started back, looking fixedly at the Breton, and his hand
instinctively sought his sword-hilt; but in a moment he regained his
composure.
'Methinks the earl's somewhat ponderous Saxon hospitality has turned
thy hot brains a bit, Sir Alain,' he said contemptuously. 'Neither thou
nor I are likely to drink that pledge!'
Sir Alain smiled at him with an evil smile, but he kept his temper.
'St. Nicholas! But every man here has drunk it this evening, and every
man who sat at Ralph de Guader's marriage board; and, sooth to say, if
thou hadst been present to hear the list of that same William's crimes
that were brought up against him, methinks so virtuous a knight as
thyself had drunk it too, with a rider to vow that such vermin were
best exterminated from the earth.'
'It is true, De Sourdeval! All drank the pledge,--Normans, Bretons, and
Saxons,' chorused the knights around. 'We are under oath to pull
William from the throne and set up Waltheof in his stead.'
'It cannot be!' cried Sir Aimand, overwhelmed. 'It is treachery! The
earl cannot be guilty of such baseness!'
'And who art thou to stigmatise as baseness what so many men as good as
thee hold fit and good?' chorused the Bretons.
'By the rood! ye are scarcely fair to the lad,' said one somewhat more
sober than his companions. 'The communication is sudden, to say the
least. Neither did he hear the eloquent catalogue of William's faults
which wrought our blood to the boiling point.'
'Nor would I have listened to a word of it!' cried Sir Aimand fiercely.
'I would have thrown down my gauntlet had it been the earl himself who
traduced his liege lord and king! And what were ye for leal knights,
fair sirs, that ye gave ear to such treason?'
'Look ye, my galliard,' said Alain de Gourin contemptuously, 'I should
advise you to drop that hero of romaunt strain, for it is a little out
of fashion here and now. By my halidom, thou wilt scarce find a
foot-page in the whole camp that will support thee! The fell-monger's
grandson has carried his tyrannies a little too far even for the
patient stomachs of his servile Normans at last; and as for us Bretons,
we have long bided our time to pay him out for those dishes of Italian
soup to which he treated Counts Alain and Conan.'
'I will never drop the strain whilst I have breath in my body!' said
Sir Aimand stoutly. 'Perhaps, when the morning comes, it will be you
who will pipe to a different tune, fair sirs. Let me pass, gentlemen; I
would go to my pavilion.'
'Not so fast!' answered Sir Alain, interposing his bulky person betwixt
De Sourdeval and the door of the tent. 'Not until thou hast drunk the
pledge! It would be scarce politic to let loose so puissant a knight
while he declares himself hostile to our enterprise.'
Sir Alain and the most part of the Bretons were in their banqueting
robes, armed only with swords and daggers, but a half-dozen, at least,
had prepared for duty, and were in full harness, and these closed round
their leader, and barred Sir Aimand's retreat.
'Sirs,' said De Sourdeval, 'ye are six to one, without counting unarmed
men. If you stand not at treason to your king-lord, ye will scarce be
particular in giving fair play to one who is true to him. But I tell
you that ye shall not force _me_ into complicity with your traitorous
plans if ye hack every limb from my body. And I will sell my life
dearly, since every blow I strike will be for my liege as well as for
myself.'
'Thou young fool!' returned De Gourin, 'we have no wish to hurt a hair
of thy head. Thou needest not drink the pledge if it irks thee, but for
our own sakes we must shut thy mouth in one way or other. Resistance to
such odds is madness. Yield thyself a prisoner, and the worst that will
befall thee is a limited sphere of action till such time as we can
honourably exchange thee against any of our members who may get into
William's clutches.'
'Honourably!' repeated Sir Aimand furiously. 'When the combat is begun
by throwing honour and devoir and all knightly fairness to the winds!'
'By the devil's own horns! thou carriest the matter too far for my
patience!' cried De Gourin. 'Fight for it, then, if thou wilt!' Drawing
his sword, he made a tremendous blow at Sir Aimand, who parried without
returning it.
'I fight not with unarmed men!' said Sir Aimand, and obtained a cheer
from the onlookers, who dropped the points of their own swords, as if
rather ashamed of the business.
'Nay, if thou likest it better, and none of these men will suit thee, I
will go and put on my harness,' said De Gourin.
'It is not I who hesitate!' flung back Sir Aimand, for his blood was
up, and he threw prudence to the winds.
'Well crowed, Sir Victor of the Tourney!' cried Sir Alain mockingly.
'Thou hast already unhorsed singly more than one of us, why shouldst
thou be awed by our combination? Sir Mordred here cut a shrewdly
laughable figure when thy thrust caught his jowl two days agone!
Methinks his teeth must chatter yet! No wonder he pauses before
attacking so doughty a champion!'
Sir Mordred, stung by the taunt, advanced on De Sourdeval and attacked
him fiercely; but the Norman held his own, surpassing him both in
strength and skill; and in a few moments Sir Mordred fell to the
ground, cured for ever of the toothache or any other ache that flesh is
heir to.
His comrades, with a savage howl, closed on Sir Aimand, and,
overwhelmed by numbers, he was borne down, and lay senseless and
bleeding beside his slain foe.
Meanwhile Judith's messenger was speeding on his way to the Primate,
while the unfortunate knight who had striven so hard to stop him was
thus foully entreated, lest he should himself be the bearer of some
such message.