"Are you not afraid?" she breathed.
"Of course I am afraid," said Messire Heleigh, irritably.
After that he unarmed Camoys, and presently they faced each other in
their tunics. So for the first time in the journey Osmund's long
falchion saw daylight. He had thrown away his dagger, as Camoys had none.
The combat was sufficiently curious. Camoys raised his left hand. "So
help me God and His saints, I have upon me neither bone, stone, nor
witchcraft wherethrough the power and the word of God might be diminished
or the devil's power increased."
Osmund made similar oath. "Judge Thou this woman's cause!" he cried,
likewise.
Then Gui Camoys shouted, as a herald might have done, "Laissez les aller,
laissez les aller, laissez les aller, les bons combatants!" and warily
each moved toward the other.
On a sudden Osmund attacked, desperately apprehensive of his own
cowardice. Camoys lightly eluded him and slashed his undefended thigh,
drawing much blood. Osmund gasped. He flung away his sword, and in the
instant catching Camoys under the arms, threw him to the ground. Messire
Heleigh fell with his opponent, who in stumbling had lost his sword, and
thus the two struggled unarmed, Osmund atop. But Camoys was the younger
man, and Osmund's strength was ebbing rapidly by reason of his wound.
Now Camoys' tethered horse, rearing with nervousness, tumbled his
master's flat-topped helmet into the road. Osmund caught it up and with
it battered Camoys in the face, dealing severe blows.
"God!" Camoys cried, his face all blood.
"Do you acknowledge my quarrel just?" said Osmund, between horrid sobs.
"What choice have I?" said Gui Camoys, very sensibly.
So Osmund rose, blind with tears and shivering. The Queen bound up their
wounds as best she might, but Camoys was much dissatisfied.
"For reasons of His own, madame," he observed, "and doubtless for
sufficient ones, God has singularly favored your cause. I am neither a
fool nor a pagan to question His decision, and you two may go your way
unhampered. But I have had my head broken with my own helmet, and this I
consider to be a proceeding very little conducive toward enhancing my
reputation. Of your courtesy, messire, I must entreat another meeting."
Osmund shrank as from a blow. Then, with a short laugh, he conceded that
this was Camoys' right, and they fixed upon the following Saturday, with
Poges Copse as the rendezvous.
"I would suggest that the combat be à outrance," Gui Camoys said, "in
consideration of the fact it was my own helmet. You must undoubtedly be
aware, Messire Osmund, that such an affront is practically without any
parallel."
This, too, was agreed upon, and they bade one another farewell.
Then, after asking if they needed money, which was courteously declined,
Gui Camoys rode away, and sang as he went. Osmund Heleigh remained
motionless. He raised quivering hands to the sky.
"Thou hast judged!" he cried. "Thou hast judged, O puissant Emperor of
Heaven! Now pardon! Pardon us twain! Pardon for unjust stewards of Thy
gifts! Thou hast loaned this woman dominion over England, all
instruments to aid Thy cause, and this trust she has abused. Thou hast
loaned me life and manhood, agility and wit and strength, all instruments
to aid Thy cause. Talents in a napkin, O God! Repentant we cry to Thee.
Pardon for unjust stewards! Pardon for the ungirt loin, for the service
shirked, for all good deeds undone! Pardon and grace, O King of kings!"
Thus he prayed, while Gui Camoys sang, riding deeper into the tattered,
yellowing forest. By an odd chance Camoys had lighted on that song made
by Thibaut of Champagne, beginning _Signor, saciez, ki or ne s'en ira_,
and this he sang with a lilt gayer than the matter of it countenanced.
Faintly there now came to them the sound of his singing, and they found
it, in the circumstances, ominously adapt.
Sang Camoys:
"_Et vos, par qui je n'oi onques aïe,
Descendez tuit en infer le par font._"
Dame Alianora shivered. "No, no!" she cried. "Is He less pitiful than
we?"
They slept that night in Ousley Meadow, and the next afternoon came
safely to Bristol. You may learn elsewhere with what rejoicing the royal
army welcomed the Queen's arrival, how courage quickened at sight of the
generous virago. In the ebullition Messire Heleigh was submerged, and
Dame Alianora saw nothing more of him that day. Friday there were
counsels, requisitions, orders signed, a memorial despatched to Pope
Urban, chief of all a letter (this in the Queen's hand throughout)
privily conveyed to the Lady Maude de Mortemer--much sowing of a seed, in
fine, that eventually flowered victory. There was, however, no sign of
Osmund Heleigh, though by Dame Alianora's order he was sought.
On Saturday at seven in the morning he came to her lodging in complete
armor. From the open helmet his wrinkled face, showing like a wizened
nut in a shell, smiled upon her questionings.
"I go to fight Gui Camoys, madame and Queen."