HOW LADY IDE FORGAVE RICHARD
Richard Longsword lay betwixt death and life for many a long day.
Sebastian hardly left him for an hour, nor did Herbert; but it was
Musa that saved him. Sebastian had a plainly expressed dislike for the
Spaniard's ministrations.
"It is suffering Satan to cast out Satan," said he, to the
Andalusian's face, "to suffer an infidel, such as you, to try to heal
Richard."
"Verily, learned sheik," answered Musa, with one of his grave smiles,
"if it is better that Richard should die and dwell with your saints, I
will not use my art."
"No," sighed Sebastian, who had not lived in Sicily with eyes quite
closed, "the lad is reserved for great things, for God and Holy
Church. He must not die; use your arts, and I will pray Our Lady that
she will defeat the evil in your science, and retain the good."
So Richard was medicined according to the teachings of the world-famed
Abul Kasim, and Sebastian went so far as to side with Musa, when the
Arab forbade the officious sub-prior--who boasted himself a leech--to
speak again of poulticing the Baron's head with sheep's lungs. A
wandering Jewish doctor from the school of Montpellier gave more
efficient aid. The abbot brought over a finger bone of St. Matthew to
put under Richard's pillow,--sure talisman against madness. And it was
sorely needed. Many a time those about the bed would shiver when they
heard Longsword scream aloud that Gilbert was standing beside him, his
face red with blood.
"Remember Mary's tale," Richard would cry, "of the evil Emperor
Constans, who slew his brother, and how the dead man stood before him
in sleep, holding forth a cup of blood, saying, 'Drink, my brother,
drink!' So with me, Gilbert de Valmont holds the cup, I cannot drink
it! Holy Saints, I cannot! Away, away with him!"
And in half-lucid moments, Richard would hear Sebastian pray, "Dear
Lord, if by penance and sacrifice of mine I gain merit in Thy sight,
lay it not up for me, but for Richard, my dear son. For I love him,
Lord, more than any other, saving Thee; and he has sinned grievously,
and Thy hand is heavy upon him. But pity him; he repents, he will go
to deliver Thy tomb and Holy City."
After this, when Richard lapsed again into his mad spells, he would
howl that he was being cast into the burning abyss of Baratron with
the devils Berzebu and Nero. But at last the fever left him wan and
weak, with a face grown ten years older in two months. The castle folk
rejoiced. The abbot came with congratulations and a tale how Brother
Matthias, admittedly a little near-sighted, had seen in broad day St.
Julien himself, accompanied by his stag, who had signified that the
Baron should recover, and give five hundred "white deniers" to the
abbey as thank-offering. Sebastian firmly forbade any generosity.
"Do you doubt the vision?" asked Richard.
Sebastian smiled grimly. "I do not doubt. But St. Julien asked for
money for himself; and your all is dedicated to a higher than St.
Julien--Christ. Our Lord did not bid us bestow riches on the rich.
Need there will be of all money and good swords and strong right arms,
before our sinful eyes see the deliverance of the Holy City. Let not
even pious gratitude turn your thoughts aside." So the monks growled
helplessly, for Sebastian had the Baron's ear now, and all the people
venerated him as being one who seldom touched fish or flesh, slept
little, prayed long, and always cast down his eyes when he passed a
pretty maid.
Then came another letter, from La Haye, in Mary Kurkuas's neat Greek
hand.
"Mary Kurkuas to her dearest heart, Richard Longsword, sends tears
and many kisses. Life of my life, I have heard the news from
Sicily, and my heart is torn. It was for my sake that you earned
the wrath of Iftikhar, because I said 'I love you' to you, not to
him. Each morning and sunset I kneel before my picture of the
Blessed 'God-bearer,' praying her to have pity on you, to make you
strong, to stanch your heart. From my wise Plato and Plutarch, I
draw no healing; but when I look on the face of the Mother of God
I know all is well, though human eye may not see. There has come a
travelling _jongleur_ from Auvergne, who tells a wonderful tale of
your deed at Valmont. In the midst of my sorrow I yet rejoice and
thank the saints, that my own true cavalier was spared, and was
suffered to slay that horrible Raoul. Yet I am glad it was all hid
from me till safely over. I know you have a great work to do in
Auvergne, and would not call you hence. Yet remember now that the
summer is just sped, that I am waiting for you at La Haye. Then
when you come, I can touch your face, and smooth away all the
pain, and we will look no longer back but forward. And so with a
thousand kisses more, farewell."
This letter made the gloom on Richard Longsword's brow settle more
darkly than ever. She knew of his sorrow, of his storming of
Valmont--of the death of Gilbert, not a word! Here was fresh sorrow;
to his own mortal pain must be added that of giving anguish to one
dearer than self. Who was he, with innocent blood almost reddening his
hands, with blasphemies nigh upon his lips, to take in his arms a
beautiful woman, pure as an angel of light? Richard ground his teeth
in his pain.
"Dear Sebastian," cried he once, despairing, "can even the great
pilgrimage wipe out my sin? Did not Foulques of Anjou go thrice to
Jerusalem before earning peace for his soul?"
"My son," was the answer, "fear not; your sin is great, yet not as
Foulques's, for he tortured his brother to death in a dungeon. No
other pilgrimage--to St. James of Compostella, to St. Martin of
Tours--is like to that to Jerusalem. And now you are to go, not with
staff and scrip, but with a good sword, and to win great battles for
God and His Christ!"
So for a moment Richard brightened; then, lapsing in gloom, he
groaned: "Unworthy, all unworthy am I so much as to look upon the City
of God! Let me turn monk, and seek peace in toil and fast and vigil."
But Sebastian shook his head: "Well I know that too often the very
seat of Satan is within the cloister--spiritual arrogance, worldly
lust, even in the great abbey of Clugny itself. And did God give you a
grip of steel and an arm of iron to let them grow weak in some monkish
cell? You have a great work before you, sweet son. Fear not, be
patient. God will bring it to pass!"
There was a strength, a simple majesty, about Sebastian, when he
spoke, that made all doubts for the moment flee away. So Richard
continued to possess himself in such peace as he might. Day by day he
grew stronger; and at last, just as October began with its cool
evenings and crystal mornings, he was again riding about upon Rollo.
All the St. Julien vassals fell on their knees when their dread lord
passed their hamlets, and they put up a prayer of thanksgiving; for
they said, "The seigneur is a kind and just man, with the love of God
in his heart, despite his fury at Valmont."
But now came messengers out of the south. Louis de Valmont had raised
a great force; all the roving bandits of the woods had gathered around
him; the war between Aquitaine and Toulouse lagged, and many landless
cavaliers had come under his banner. When Herbert heard the news he
began to talk of victualling St. Julien for a long siege, and sending
to Burgundy and Languedoc for help. But Richard would hear none of it.
"The saints know there has been enough Christian blood spilled, since
I came to Auvergne. There shall be no more in my quarrel," declared
he; and he sent back a messenger to Louis, saying that he prayed him
to enter on no new feud, but to grant a meeting where they might
compose their quarrels without arms. Three days sped, and back came
the envoy with a letter, which three months earlier would have made
Richard swear great oaths and draw out Trenchefer. "Louis de Valmont,"
ran the reply, "will come to St. Julien and there meet Richard
Longsword, and five hundred lances will come with him. As for
composition, let Richard make what terms he could with the saints, for
on earth he need beg for no quarter."
"By the Glory of Allah!" declared Musa, when the letter was read, "we
will make them cry 'Hold!' before many arrows fly!" And Herbert began
to call to arms the vassals of the barony, and chuckled when he
thought of the brave times ahead. But Richard, when he had slept on
the letter, called for Sebastian, and was with him long alone. Then he
unbuckled Trenchefer, put on a soiled, brown bleaunt, and bade them
bring a common palfrey for himself and a mule for Sebastian. He
commanded Herbert to keep strict guard of the castle, to yield to
none, to attack none. Even to Musa he would not tell the object of his
journey. With the priest at his side he rode out of the village, and
turned his face toward the south, where the road climbed over the
mountains.
They journeyed on till the sun lacked a bare hour of setting. Then
before them, on a smooth meadow where ran a little river, they saw
many rude tents, horses picketed to lances thrust in the ground, the
smoke of camp-fires; and heard the hum of a hundred voices. Presently
into the road sprang half a dozen surly, hard-visaged men with tossing
pole-axes and spiked clubs. They demanded of knight and priest their
business, in no gentle tone.
"Tell your master, Louis de Valmont," said Sebastian, mildly, "that a
cavalier and a servant of Holy Church would speak with him."
"A servant of Holy Church, ho!" cried one of the men-at-arms, with a
covetous glance at the mule; but Sebastian fastened his firelike eyes
upon the fellow, who dropped his gaze and began to mutter something
about the evil eye.
They led the two into the midst of the camp, where a great press of
disorderly varlets and petty nobles swarmed around, pointing,
laughing, whispering loudly. Only the largest tent was carefully
closed, and about it stood sentries in armor. A man-at-arms went to
this, thrust in his head, and was back with the message:--
"Sir Louis de Valmont and his mother, the noble Lady Ide, have no time
to waste words with every wandering knight and priest that come this
way. They bid you state your errand to me and begone, or we strip you
of steeds and purses."
"Tell Louis de Valmont," said Richard, in a voice that many might
hear, "that the Baron of St. Julien and his chaplain desire speech
with him, and that speedily!"
There was half a hum, half a growl, in the crowd about. Swords waved
on high; lances tossed; voices began to shout, "Seize! Strike!"
Sebastian swept round upon the soldiery with his terrible gaze, and
all recoiled. Richard stood stern and motionless as a rock. Then the
flap of the tent dashed aside, and forth strode a figure in silvered
casque and hauberk.
"Sir Louis de Valmont," said Richard, very gravely, advancing with
outstretched hand, "I greet you well. Let us meet in peace in Christ's
name!"
A dark scowl knotted the brow of De Valmont.
"By all the fiends, what devil persuaded you to come into my presence?
As God lives, you shall die this night, though you kiss my feet and
beg for life."
But Sebastian answered for Richard.
"It shall be as you say, Louis de Valmont; but first you shall look
into your own soul, and see if you be a meet instrument to execute
God's will. We cannot speak here. Let us enter the tent."
Louis stood obdurate; but with a single sweep of his hand and a second
lightning glance, Sebastian scattered the men-at-arms, and he and
Richard strode right past De Valmont into the tent.
Dimly within they saw the rude camp furniture, bedding and rugs on the
ground, where were laid out some silver dishes and flagons, and two
serving-maids were making ready a meal; but as they stepped in, before
them rose a figure, a woman with gray hair and a face ashen with a
great sorrow, who sprang forth to Richard with a bitter cry.
"Away, away, wretch, murderer! Hew him to death, Louis! Ah! my boy! my
boy!"
It was the Lady Ide. And at her cry Richard's face also grew ashen,
but he did not quail.
"Dear lady," answered he, "I am all you say. Yet let me speak. Your
son's men are all around; my life is in Louis's keeping."
"Away! away!" moaned the mother, "and as they kill you, let my curse
still be in your ears! Each night I cry to God to remember the blood
of Gilbert. Oh, may God's wrath be heavy upon you!"
"Lady," replied Richard, turning even paler, "God's wrath has indeed
been heavy upon me! Let them seize and torture me, I do not fear."
And here Louis broke in, raging:--
"Enough of this! In Satan's name, will you add to your infamy by
reviling my mother to her face? Ho, Robert, Aimeon,--this way!--drag
him forth!"
But Sebastian looked straight into De Valmont's eyes.
"Peace, man of sin! Know that if Richard Longsword be indeed so
accursed as you deem him, yet he is as Cain; for God has set a mark
upon him, lest any finding him should slay him!"
And under the priest's terrible gaze the Provençal's hand left his
sword-hilt, and he held down his head. Then to Lady Ide, Sebastian
spoke:--
"Daughter, your sorrow is great. Nevertheless, I warn you. As you
would stand at the judgment seat on the great Day, listen to the words
of this knight."
And Lady Ide also bowed her head. Then Richard began: "Noble lady, the
first cause of your sorrows lies not in me. My grandfather and your
son Raoul quarrelled; on what account I know not. But as God is my
just judge, the thing Raoul did to Baron Gaston, when he held him
prisoner, cried to heaven. I slew Raoul in fair battle after he had
tortured my grandfather, fettered in a dungeon."
And at this the mother burst forth:--
"Oh, holy St. Martin, but Raoul was a terrible man! Yes, I confess it,
though it was I that bore him. Did I not plead with him not to torture
Baron Gaston, and tell him the saints would requite tenfold?"
"Amen, daughter!" commented Sebastian, sternly.
"But Gilbert, my youngest, innocent as song-thrush! gentle as a little
girl!" the lady wailed.
"And I will speak of him also," continued Richard. "Before I came to
St. Julien, I had had quarrel with Sir Louis. Yet we warred in
knightly fashion. Sir Louis lost the day, but there was no stain upon
his honor. Still there was little love betwixt me and any of the De
Valmont name when I went to Auvergne. Then I came to St. Julien, and
saw my grandfather. Holy Cross! dear lady--could you have seen him,
you would have melted with pity--all seared by fire, those sightless
eyeballs!"
"No more! by every saint, no more!" moaned Lady Ide.
"When I saw him, and heard of Raoul, and heard that he had a younger
brother Gilbert, I swore a great oath to Heaven that the Valmonts were
a godless brood, and I would slay them all--all. For in my eyes
Gilbert was but as his brother." Lady Ide groaned, but Richard went
on: "Then when I stormed Valmont, I fought Raoul face to face and man
to man, and he perished as befits a valiant cavalier. Whether my own
sins are not now as great as his, let God judge; but if he died, he
died--I dare to say it--not without cause."
"It is true! Dear Christ, it is true! And I was his mother." Lady Ide
had her face bowed on her hands, and shook with her sobs. Richard
drove straight on:--
"Then the devil entered into me. I was mad with lust of slaying and
the heat of battle. My veins seemed turned to fire. I knew all that I
did, yet in a strange way knew not--only beheld myself striking,
shouting, running, as if I stood a great way off. I struck you down
foully. I slew Gilbert at the altar, and all the time that I raged, I
felt deep within--that what I did, was a sin against God. I shattered
the holy relics; I blasphemed heaven. There are those who have sinned
more than I, but they are not many."
The lady was not weeping now. She was staring at Richard with hard,
tearless eyes,--all the picture of that fearful night standing, as in
a vision, before them.
"But I have been punished,--punished, perhaps, after my sins,--yet
scarce has God given me grace to bear. I had a mother who held me
dear--dearer, if I may say it, than you held Gilbert."
"It cannot be!" cried Ide, starting up, but Sebastian frowned and she
was quiet.
"I had a mother, a father who also loved me, a brother gentle as
Gilbert, and a sister," and when Richard spoke the word even Louis
turned away his gaze, there was such agony on Longsword's face. "And
now tidings have come from Sicily that father, mother, and brother are
dead, slain wantonly by Iftikhar Eddauleh, whom Louis knows well; and
my sister! holy Mother of God, drive the thought from my heart! is the
captive of that paynim. So think you not the sin I committed against
you and yours has not met its reward? Think you I shall greatly fear,
if Sir Louis calls in his men and bids them slay me? What is death
beside the pains that I bear here!" And Richard smote his breast. Then
Louis burst forth:--
"But why, by the Holy Cross, did you venture hither? You know I have
sworn to have your life."
"Right well," answered the Norman, dropping his gaze; "and doubtless
you expected to find me holding St. Julien with all my vassals, and
much blood ready to be spilled. But I again have sworn an oath,--and
the oath is this: 'For my sins, and for the souls of my parents and
brother, I will go to free the Holy City from the unbeliever. And I
will shed no more Christian blood until I see the Cross triumphant on
the walls of Jerusalem, or until I die.' Therefore I stand before you,
asking to be forgiven; and if you will not, I do not fear death."
A long silence; then the woman broke it:--
"My boy! my boy! You have killed him! You must suffer!"
"I am willing, lady," said Richard, never stirring.
But Sebastian now had his word:--
"Take care, daughter, lest you too sin in the sight of God! What said
Our Lord upon the cross? 'Father, forgive them!' And has not this
Richard Longsword been chastened? been brought very low? You lost your
two sons; but one of these, by your own lips, is confessed worthy of
death, and for the slaying of the other this man has been repaid. He
slew one innocent: he has lost three--and one worse than dead. And he
is a chosen vessel of the Lord. For God has cut him short in his sins,
even as He cut short Paul when breathing forth threatenings and
slaughter. For I say unto you: I had granted unto me a vision,"--and
Sebastian's voice rose to a swelling height,--"no flitting dream of
the night, but clear as the noonday; I saw Richard Longsword standing
on the walls of Jerusalem, and above his head the cross. And he shall
fight great battles for Christ, and endure great tribulation more; but
shall see the desires of God upon the wicked. Therefore, you and you,
deal pitifully with him. For he has sinned, but has repented, and now
is one of God's elect."
And as Sebastian spoke, lo! Lady Ide's eyes were bright with tears,
and her frame shook with a mighty sobbing; for, as she looked on
Richard Longsword's face, she saw it aged with an agony beyond any
curse of human thought.
"Ah, dear God!" she cried, lifting up her hands, still very soft and
white, "Thou knowest it is hard, yet I--I forgive him!"
Richard knelt and kissed the hem of her robe.
"Sweet lady," said he, "you have given water to one who seemed parched
in nigh quenchless fire. For when such as you may forgive, I may look
to heaven, and say, 'Christ is not less merciful.'"
Lady Ide only pressed her hands to her face. Richard turned to Louis.
"And am I forgiven by you also?" was his prayer. But Louis answered:--
"My mother forgives you. That is enough. I am not made like the
angels, as is she. I will do you no harm. Since I cannot take my men
to St. Julien, we will go to Clermont, where the Pope will hold the
council, and brave adventures will be set afoot. Between us there is a
truce. Let forgiveness and friendship wait."
So Richard bowed his head and went out of the tent.