THE AFFRAY BY THE RIVER
Next morning a dense fog hung over the valley of the Seine, so that it
was impossible to see across to the opposite bank. Nevertheless, the
Englishmen were anxious to resume the journey, and, being assured by
Gaston that he could steer the boat, even were the fog twice as thick,
they embarked once more.
Presently the sun became visible through the white wreathing vapour—a
pale, watery-looking disc. Then a cold westerly breeze, insufficient to
disperse the mist, sprang up, so that the Norman, eager to save the
muscles of his men, ordered the sail to be set.
Above Villequier the windings of the river were not sufficient to
necessitate windward work, so by merely trimming the sail as the course
was altered the boat could pursue her onward way.
Hardly a word was spoken. The fog seemed to affect the spirits both of
the mercurial Frenchmen and the more reticent Englishmen, and in
silence, save for an occasional order from the steersman as the sheets
required attention, the party made rapid progress with wind and tide.
"Yonder lies the Dos d'Ane," remarked Gaston, pointing to a distant
hill. "Close under its shadow boats can shelter from la barre."
"I trow, master, we have had enough of this terrible bore," observed
Roche. "Certes! Even now I have the taste of Seine water in my throat,
in spite of a good stoup of sack."
"Not one good stoup only, gossip," corrected one of his companions.
"As thou wilt, Thomas; but I pray three, ere thou wouldst——"
Master Roche's words were interrupted by a low "hist" from the
steersman.
"'Tis but the cry of a bittern," remarked Ratclyffe.
"_Ma foi!_ If thou canst liken yonder sound to a bird's call thou hast
no right to wear sword," retorted Gripwell, excitement outweighing his
deference. "E'en though the wind bloweth away from us, I can make out
the clash of arms and the shouts of the combatants. Now, am I not
right?" he continued, as a lull in the breeze enabled the Englishmen to
hear the subdued clatter of a distant encounter.
"Steer towards the bank, Gaston," exclaimed Geoffrey. "Perchance we can
be of some slight service to those in the right."
"Certes! I care not which be in the right or wrong," added Gripwell, for
the old war-dog had scented the battle from afar. "Give me room for
sword-play on the weaker side, and that will suffice. How say you,
Master Roche?"
"I and my fellow merchants are men of peace," replied Roche sturdily.
"But if we can be of service we'll follow thee."
So saying, the Southampton man dived into the cabin, reappearing with a
sheaf of swords, which he distributed amongst his companions.
By this time the boat was nearing the bank, and above the clash of arms
and the oaths and exclamations of pain and anger rose the shrill shriek
of a woman.
"Fall on, comrades!" shouted Gripwell, as the bows of the craft slid
gently against the rush-lined bank, and with an agility that was
surprising for his years the man-at-arms leapt ashore brandishing a long
two-handed sword.
Geoffrey, Oswald, and Ratclyffe hastened after him, the four merchants
and the three archers vieing with each other in their haste to follow
him to the scene of the encounter.
The fog had cleared sufficiently for Geoffrey and his comrades to
discern a confused throng of combatants at a little distance from the
bank, where a road ran parallel with the river.
It did not take long for the Englishmen to grasp the situation. Standing
shoulder to shoulder, with brandished spear and sword, were six or seven
men. Sheltering behind them was a woman, but whether young or old the
newcomers could not tell, since she was in a huddled posture, with her
head covered by her coif.
Surrounding the little band swarmed a score or more of repulsive-looking
ruffians, armed similarly to their opponents. Men had fallen on both
sides, while two horses, one dead, the other hamstrung, added to the
carnage. At a distance of twenty paces along the road two of the
villainous rogues were holding an elderly woman, and it was she who was
giving vent to the piercing cries that the Englishmen had heard as they
sped towards the shore.
There was no mistaking the situation. The ladies and their armed
attendants had been assailed by a stronger and more numerous band—either
the servants of some turbulent and rascally baron or a party of men
acting for their own profit, for armed robbers swarmed on French soil
during the troublous feud betwixt the Orleanist and Burgundian factions.
Even the timely arrival of the Englishmen did not have the effect of
causing the assailants to beat a hasty retreat. Instead they held their
ground, striving by a supreme effort to beat down the slender ring of
steel that surrounded the crouching figure in the centre.
In an instant Arnold Gripwell had launched himself into the thickest of
the press. The long two-handed sword flashed, sweeping and thrusting
with the skill and force of long usage.
Nor were the three lads backward in their efforts. The young heir of
Warblington, carried away by the heat of the fight—even though 'twas the
first time he had crossed steel in action—found himself confronted by a
tall, lithe rascal clad in a padded leather coat and flowing gabardine,
and armed with a short, heavy sword.
Avoiding a powerful downward cut, Geoffrey sprang lightly aside, his
antagonist's blade missing his left shoulder by a hair's breadth. With a
swift lunge the lad wounded his foe in the neck, but was almost
immediately repaid by a cut that, falling short, gashed his face.
Ere the man could recover himself Geoffrey's blade sped home, and at the
same time Oswald succeeded in cutting down his opponent.
Of what happened during the next few minutes Sir Oliver's son had but a
confused knowledge; but the rogues had suffered severely, and already
most of them who were uninjured were seeking safety in flight.
Of the two men who guarded the elder woman, one had taken to his heels,
but the other, pushing his captive in front of him, stood, crossbow to
shoulder, seeking to cover his comrade's flight.
Stung to fury by his wound, Geoffrey cast all discretion to the winds.
Calling Oswald to follow him, he dashed towards the cross-bowman,
heedless of the menacing weapon that was aimed full at his body, though
he was protected neither by shield nor breastplate.
The woman saw the danger to which her would-be rescuer was exposed, and,
adroitly slipping to the ground, she drew a small dagger and plunged it
to the hilt into her captor's side. With a yell of pain the man dropped
his cross-bow, pressed his hand to his wound, and turned to flee. But
Geoffrey's blade swung through the air, and with a shriek the robber
fell dead.
That terminated the fight. Nine of the robbers and four of their
opponents had been slain, while four on each side had been grievously
wounded, including one of the English archers, who was already dying.
Meanwhile Oswald had assisted the elder lady to rise.
"By St. Denis!" she exclaimed. "To think that my silver dagger should be
sullied by the blood of a base routier. But I am forgetting. I have to
thank thee, sir, and thy comrades for this timely assistance. I trust
thou art a gentleman of coat armour?"
Oswald hastened to assure the haughty dame that both he and his two
friends were of noble birth.
"The saints be praised!" was the lady's remark. "It would ill-become the
wife of Sir Raoul d'Aulx, seigneur of Maissons, to be beholden to
bourgeois or villein."
Geoffrey felt tempted to point out that 'twas with the aid of the
merchants and the common archers that the affair had been decided, but
the announcement of the lady's title completely took him by surprise.
"Certes!" he exclaimed. "This is passing strange. It is to Sir Raoul
d'Aulx that my companion here, Richard Ratclyffe, squire to Sir Thomas
Carberry, Governor of Portchester Castle, doth bear a letter from his
lord."
"Then perchance thou canst do us a further service," replied Lady
d'Aulx. "Since our horses are done for and many of our men have fallen,
it may be possible for us to journey to Rouen together."
"Our boat, though inconveniently crowded, is at thy service, madame,"
said Roche, who was busily engaged in completing the binding of a slight
cut on his wrist.
"Boat, quotha! I like not this mode of travelling; yet 'tis better than
nothing at all. But, sir, thy name and rank?"
The Southampton merchant quailed beneath the imperious glance of the
haughty French woman. Shuffling his feet uneasily, he tried to make
reply.
"My worthy friend hath ever been bashful in the presence of beauty,"
explained Ratclyffe with courtier-like quickness. "He bears the name of
Sir Paul Roche, of Lucre Castle, hard by the town of Southampton."
"Greetings, Sir Paul," exclaimed Sir Raoul's wife, as the pseudo-knight
gallantly kissed her hand. "But 'tis to no purpose to dally here. Aimée,
my belle, come hither; it is to these honourable cavaliers that we owe
our preservation."
Aimée d'Aulx, Sir Raoul's only daughter, was a tall, graceful maiden of
about thirteen years of age, with dark chestnut tresses and a wondrous
clear complexion. She had now completely recovered from her fright, and
Geoffrey especially could not help noticing her beauty. While possessing
a certain sense of dignity, she lacked the haughty mien of her mother,
and unaffectedly she presented her hand to be saluted by Geoffrey and
his companions, including "Sir Paul," who, having regained his
composure, seemed not a little tickled by his newly-acquired position.
Arnold Gripwell had meanwhile given the archers orders to dispatch the
wounded robbers, according to the custom of the Middle Ages, when human
life was cheaply esteemed in the case of common men who were unable to
pay ransom.
"I pray thee examine yonder rogue," said the Lady d'Aulx, pointing to
the corpse of the cross-bowman who had held her captive. "Methinks he
was the leader of the rabble, yet I trow he is no base-born serf."
The old man-at-arms strode over to the spot where the dead ruffian lay,
and with a kick turned the body over on its back.
"See here, Master Geoffrey," he shouted. "I' faith, though thou wert
reckless enow in rushing in upon a levelled cross-bow, the rogue was but
playing a trick. See, here is the string still notched, but no sign of a
quarrel."
"Then he was a brave man to cover his comrade's retreat with a boltless
bow," replied the lad.
"And thou equally brave, not knowing that thy life was saved by this man
being without a shaft," added Gripwell.
"By St. George, what have we here?" he continued, tearing aside the dead
man's cloak and disclosing a small device upon the left breast of his
doublet. "A red axe upon a field of murrey. Dost know this cognizance,
Master Geoffrey?"
"Nay, forsooth," replied the lad.
"Then I trust that thou wilt ever see it in the dust. 'Tis the coat of
Yves, Lord of Malevereux."
"Surely this is not the corpse of the man who holds my father captive?"
"Nay, young sir; the Lord of Malevereux is great in stature and inclined
to stoutness. Moreover, 'tis unreasonable to suppose that he would lead
in person a band of churlish cut-throats such as these. Without doubt
they are of the household of Malevereux."
"Of Malevereux?" exclaimed the Lady d'Aulx. "Then I do perceive how
matters stand. This base-born Yves knew that I was journeying 'twixt
Harfleur and Rouen, and doubtless thought to hold me to ransom. My
faith, if Sir Raoul doth not bring him to book for this, may I never
break bread again."
"'Tis to this purpose that I am sent to the Castle of Maissons, madame,"
said Ratclyffe. "So that they of Taillemartel should join forces with
the garrison of Maissons 'gainst this villainous Yves."
"Young squire, in the name of Sir Raoul d'Aulx I shall welcome thee and
thine to Maissons, yet methinks that this matter concerning the
combining of the two garrisons must wait, seeing that Sir Raoul hath
been called to Paris by his Sovereign."
"When will he return, fair lady?" asked Geoffrey anxiously.
"Nay, that I cannot say; but rest assured, young sir, that thine anxiety
concerning the chastisement of the Lord of Malevereux is not greater
than mine."
The Englishmen and the party they had succoured embarked upon the boat,
and the journey up stream was resumed. Ere sunset on the following day
the city of Rouen was reached, and Gaston was dismissed with liberal
payment.
Here, after a night's rest, the travellers dispersed. Paul Roche and his
fellow merchants addressed themselves to the disposal of their wares;
the Lady d'Aulx and her attendants, accompanied by Richard Ratclyffe,
set out on the road to Maissons; while Geoffrey, Oswald, and Arnold
Gripwell, with the two surviving archers, took horse and were soon
speeding on their way to Taillemartel.