OF OUR ADVENTURES AMONG THE CASTILIAN HOST
I HAVE deemed it proper in the narration of that which follows to show
my own feelings precisely as they afflicted me at the time, and not
as they came to be modified by the strange things that happened. In
the end it was given to me to learn that Sir Richard Pendragon, so far
from being a hare-brain, was a very deep and masterful schemer. But
in so far as his designs passed beyond my comprehension at the period
of which I now treat, I have deemed it right not to anticipate that
final tribute which it will be necessary to pay to his character in the
appointed time and season.
On setting out that morning from the posada, at Sir Richard’s behest
we filled the cart and the skins with water and turned the heads of
our mules in the direction of the King of Castile’s army. I yielded
to these dispositions because, having come so far and having already
obeyed in many things, I felt there was no other course to be taken;
yet it was rather with the sense of being in a dream that I awaited
the manifestation of this new extravagance. What fantasy was this that
possessed our comrade? What new disorder of the mind had come upon him?
As towards evening we entered the lines of the Castilian army it ran
in my heart to revile the Count of Nullepart bitterly. It had come
upon me that he had permitted the Englishman to betray our embassy.
For trusting Sir Richard Pendragon so little it seemed to me that here
was his clear design. Yet a moment’s reflection showed that if the
Englishman was come to betray a mission that had failed so lamentably
it would profit him not at all. He must certainly lose his life; and
further, the means he had taken to accomplish his act of treachery
would hardly have been accompanied by this degree of masquerade.
When I heard the challenge, “Who goes there?” from the King’s soldiers
I felt a sudden chill upon my heart. Yet it was no more than a passing
cowardice, the fruit of circumstances so gravely remarkable, for our
leader was prompt to show himself as true to his trust and also as
infinitely cunning.
“A friend,” he answered with boldness and promptitude. He spoke in
a rustical Spanish of the northern provinces; and then in the same
dialect, in which his foreign brogue was most skilfully dissembled, he
said that he had come to bring water to the army of the most gracious
and sovereign prince.
“Well then, my lord and knight, you are a thousand times welcome,” said
the sentinel in those terms of high courtesy in which we Spaniards,
even in the humbler walks of life, excel the people of all other
nations.
It was then that I understood that our leader had judged sagaciously,
and that he had laid his plot very deep. In the guise of water-sellers
we could count on a welcome from an army in the field which had
suffered the travail of a long day.
Sir Richard Pendragon gave the sentinel a drink of water out of a
pannikin which was carried upon the back of the cart, and then after
further civilities upon both sides and a few questions from our cunning
leader upon the disposal of the King’s host, we moved off into the
darkness.
We made several leagues into the midst of the royal army, sustaining
every challenge of the sentinels in a like manner. And finally when
fatigue overcame us at last, we shared the hospitality of a number of
soldiers who sat round a camp-fire, who in exchange for our sweet and
cool water gave us of their fare.
From these we learned much. We were informed that the surrender of
the Castle of Montesina was expected to be an affair of three weeks.
It was victualled for that period; and King John in his tenderness
for his troops would not venture another assault upon the steep face
of the rock. They confessed that a former attack had been met with
a resolution they had not anticipated; and according to rumour, the
boldness of the defenders had been inspired by a young female who was
addicted to the practice of witchcraft.
However, to judge by their words, these soldiers were disposed to view
the campaign with levity. They vowed it was a holiday task, and had the
King’s assurance of it. They could only marvel that one so aged and
defenceless as the Duke of Montesina should have had the presumption
to resist them. And having no enemy to fear beyond the feeble creature
immured upon a high rock behind stone walls, they now permitted
themselves to dispense with much of that military precaution that
warfare renders necessary.
It was in a measure due to this laxity that Sir Richard Pendragon was
able to pursue his wonderful stratagem. This was so audacious that
even now when I recall it, after the lapse of years, it seems to be
the substance of a romantic tale. Certes it was born of a wild brain;
yet, upon my life, it was prosecuted with such a sober courage and
foresight, every detail was wrought with a skill so nice, every hap was
safeguarded with a judgment so ripe and a wit so supple, that this mad
plot has seemed almost to inhabit itself in the chaste light of reason.
A little after daybreak we three peasants with our water-cart left
these friendly quarters; and at least one of us was unable to foresee
the amazing things that were to befall ere he would again stretch his
limbs in repose. Throughout the day we moved freely within the lines
of the Castilian host, mixing with the soldiers upon familiar terms,
offering them water in exchange for the nimble cuarto, and bantering
them with rude jokes.
Then, as the sky grew dark again, we found ourselves within sight of
the pavilion that had been set up for the use of the King’s majesty. It
was a handsome and imposing tent, formed of a striped cloth of blue and
red, interwoven with the arms of Castile and flying its three lions.
An enclosure was formed around it with cords stretched upon poles; and
before the entrance were three sentinels with drawn swords.
For some time we stood observing the royal arrangements. A throng of
captains and courtiers was continually passing in and out of the King’s
tent. Then we drew off with our water-cart into a thicket that was
near, fed the honest mules, and proceeded to eat some cheese made out
of goats’ milk with which we had provided ourselves.
About an hour after sundown the moon rose; and this was a circumstance
that gave satisfaction to our leader.
“John Castilian,” said he, “there is an old score that is due to thee
by the hand of English Dickon that will not go much longer unrequited.”
Saying this the English giant produced a stout piece of cord from the
recesses of his jerkin, to which he added a short piece of iron, a
cloth, and a huge bag woven of hemp, which had been tied to the tail of
the water-cart. And swearing an oath in round London English, he waved
these articles in the face of the good lady the moon.
It was near to midnight when we led the water-cart out of the thicket.
We drove it to within a quarter of a league of that narrow path that
winds sheerly upwards to the heights of Montesina, and thereby to the
base of the walls of the duke’s castle. Hitching the mules to a tree in
a retired spot, we retraced our steps cautiously by the light of the
moon, until the outlines of the royal pavilion again took shape before
us.
Not a sound disturbed the stillness of the night, for the King of
Castile was no reveller. Doubtless his Majesty was already abed and
lapped in slumber. At the door of his tent we were able to discern the
drawn swords of the sentinels glancing to the moonlight as they mounted
guard.
As we emerged from the shelter of the trees into the open meadow in
which the pavilion was set, Sir Richard Pendragon, having taken the
precaution to tie the bag round his middle, got down upon all fours and
began to crawl like a great serpent through the grass towards the royal
dwelling. And as the Count of Nullepart immediately got himself down
upon his hands and knees also, and began to crawl after our leader, in
order not to be out of the hunt, in whatever our quarry might consist,
I was fain in these particulars to imitate their example.
Without causing a twig to break, we crept upon our hands and knees
to the rear of the royal tent. And so artfully did we make our way
that none perceived us when at last we came into its shadow, and
actually lay with our shoulders against its canvas walls. And the three
sentinels stood all unsuspecting in the moonlight, not fifty paces from
us, yet hidden by the body of the pavilion.
Hardly had we come to lie thus than the Englishman drew his dagger and
began to cut a large hole in the tent. And no sooner had I observed
this to be his occupation than a kind of wonderment overcame me, for at
last I had come to discern the depth, the daring, and the subtlety of
his invention.