THE SWART SHIPMAN
From Chesby and Blancherive, all the way to the gate of Crowden
Priory, the way was lined with villagers, hinds, franklins,
men-at-arms, castle and Priory servants and the riff-raff of the
countryside, gathered to wave farewell to Hugh and his comrades.
Stout old Sir Godfrey Halcroft stood at the Priory gate with Prior
Thomas, before whom Hugh knelt for a final blessing.
"Our Lady keep you," said the Prior with a choke in his voice. "I
pray not for your soul, Hugh, for that is as safe as human soul may
be; but for your life. Be not over-venturous."
He cast an appealing eye upon Matteo and Ralph, who knelt a pace in
rear of Hugh.
"To you, also, fair sons, I give the same advice," he added. "And I
pray you, be careful, one of another."
"That will we right heartily, Holy Prior," returned Matteo, rising
and dusting his knees. "And we shall be watchful to guard the back
of our young lord here."
Ralph mumbled an inaudible assent. To say truth, Ralph was more than
a little woebegone at the prospect of leaving solid English earth for
the uncertain substance of the sea and the vague lands of
Outremer--not to speak of the flaxen-haired daughter of one of the
franklins of Chesby. He was of two minds, was Ralph, honestly
zestful of the great adventures Hugh had promised him, and secretly
hopeful that some mishap might put off their departure.
Sir Godfrey was openly jealous of the comrades.
"Such luck it is to be a stripling!" he clamoured. "Unskilled and
unschooled, and all must come your way! A tried man-at-arms, and I
am doomed to sit close in Blancherive, guard my lands and play the
King's man! Welladay, what use to complain? Be of good cheer, Hugh.
Hast good company, a valiant purpose and the world before you. An
you see Edith, bid her remember there is always a home awaiting her
in Blancherive."
And the old knight put both arms around Hugh's neck and embraced him.
"There is a rheum in the air this morning," he complained. "Beshrew
me, but I weep."
Hugh wiped his own eyes as he mounted the grey stallion, and struck
hands for the last time with Sir Godfrey and Prior Thomas.
"Fear not," he said. "I shall return."
"Ay, that he shall," reiterated Matteo.
There was a chorus of blessings and outcries, and the little
cavalcade clattered off into the forest depths on their way to
Hastings and the sea. The group by the Priory gate watched them as
long as the glint of armour shone between the trees, for the comrades
made a brave show.
Hugh and Matteo rode side by side. Hugh wore the new armour Ralph
had fetched from London, a cunningly-wrought, double-linked suit of
chainmail that had cost the worth of four hides of lands. The
hauberk, or mail coat, protected his arms to the wrists and fell to
the knees, being slit behind for greater ease in riding. Under it he
wore a gambeson, or quilted jacket, to keep the mail from chafing the
skin. Mittens of chain-mail swung at his wrists, ready to be donned
for fighting use. Below the waist he was protected by leggins of
chain-mail, which were fastened at the waist to the underside of the
hauberk. They terminated in mail-shoes, so that from head to neck he
was guarded by flashing steel.
Over his armour he wore a surcoat of heavy linen, embroidered by the
monks of Crowden with his own device of an open eye, signifying his
quest. On his head perched a light cap of cloth, but a massive
square helmet hung at his saddle-bow. Plate-armour was then unknown,
but the science of tempering and fashioning steel had made tremendous
strides since the Crusades had introduced Western Europe to the
tricks of Asiatic smiths, and the chain-mail was both lighter and in
some ways stronger, than plate-armour, for it lacked the tricky
joints that were the weakness of plated suits.
On his left arm Hugh carried a small triangular shield, an evolution
from the big kite-shaped shield which the Norsemen had brought to
Southern Europe. His right arm supported an ashwood lance,
unpennoned. To his side was strapped a great war-sword, a mighty,
broad-bladed, two-edged weapon, with a blunted point, so delicately
balanced that it swung in the wielder's hand as easily as a wooden
ferule, despite its ponderous weight.
Matteo was armed in much the same fashion, save that his armour was
Eastern-wrought and showed such novel features as fingered mail
gloves and a loose hood of mail that could be thrown back over the
shoulders or drawn at will around the head under the conical helmet,
with nasal, that formed his headgear in action. And instead of the
war-sword of Frankish Europe, the jongleur bore the scimiter of the
Saracens, a weapon distinguished as much by its exquisite keenness as
by its peculiar facility for slashing in-fighting. He also carried a
steel mace, hung by a thong from his saddle. His lance, too, was of
lighter structure than Hugh's, and could be thrown like a javelin at
close quarters.
Ralph rode behind the two others, leading a pack pony. He wore a
short mail-jacket, made over by a local armourer from an old suit of
Hugh's, the length having gone into patches to broaden the shoulders
and chest. To his back was strapped his long-bow, unstrung. His
armament was completed by a sword and well-filled quiver.
The comrades rode in silence until they had reached the highroad.
Then Matteo struck up a lilting song, and Hugh's melancholy took
flight at the visions conjured up before his eyes anew.
Passing fair was Mellisante,
Passing fair and right content.
Never wooed a gentler knight
Than Sir Gui de Bras.
In the darkened forest-glade
Oft she waited unafraid,
Starry-eyed and maiden-white--
For Sir Gui de Bras.
Matteo broke off with a little laugh.
"We might better be singing the Benedicite than such love verses," he
jibed. "What say you, Hugh, shall we go upon our way pilgrim-solemn
or shall we take joy in the wine of life and let all the world know
of it?"
"No pilgrim-gait for me," answered Hugh lightly. "I am all for music
and laughter. How now, Ralph, what say you?"
Ralph heaved a deep sigh.
"There is that in the song Messer Matteo was singing that makes my
heart ache all the more, Messer Hugh," he said. "An it please you,
let us sing and talk of arms and battle, for I have many sad thoughts
I would forget."
"Well spoken, Ralph," applauded Matteo. "That is the proper spirit
for such a venture as ours. Of arms and battles, of sieges and
splendid deeds, then, shall we debate and sing. Hark ye to this."
And leaning back in his saddle, he raised his voice in the
full-throated burden of a Burgundian tilting song, savage and
challenging, punctuated with the crashing of chargers, the blasts of
the heralds' trumpets and the clash of armour. This brought Ralph
out of the dumps, and for the rest of that day they rode carefree,
finding entertainment in the sights of the roadside and in discussion
of future plans. At night they lay at the castle of a knight who was
a distant cousin of Hugh's.
So they journeyed for three days, and in the afternoon of the third
day they reached Hastings port, and from the uplands behind the town
saw the blue waters of the Narrow Seas rolling before them.
"It looks to be a vast deal of water," said Ralph dubiously. "There
is an end to the land hereabouts, 'twould seem. I doubt me there is
more water than land."
"Art frighted, Ralph?" mocked Matteo. "Take heart, man, for an you
could see a few miles farther you would find the water giving way to
land again. Straight ahead of you is France, and it is a country
that could take your England into one corner of it and still have
enough over to make a puissant realm."
"That I do not believe, saving your grace," retorted Ralph. "Bigger
than England? Sure, and he does but taunt me, Messer Hugh?"
"Not so, Ralph," replied Hugh, smiling. "You have yet to learn that
our England is but a little sliver of land beside the bulk of the
world. We shall soon be riding over countries as large as Messer
Matteo says--into which you could slip all England and Scotland,
too--ay, and wild Ireland--and not diminish materially the power of
their lords."
"It must be a big place, this world," said Ralph, in an awe-struck
voice.
"It is," rejoined Matteo. "Do but wait until you have seen the snow
mountains beyond France, Ralph. That is a sight like none other.
You would not believe me if I told you of it. Rivers of ice and snow
and mountains that reach beyond the sky."
"God save us!" muttered Ralph devoutly.
As they rode into the town, Matteo's keen eyes examined the vessels
in the harbour.
"There is little shipping," he said with disappointment. "See, there
are no more than two of a size to venture across the Narrow Seas."
He pointed to a high-built cog, with flapping purple sails, that rode
close inshore, and to a long, lean craft, low in the waist, with a
single mast supporting a slanting yard.
"That galley is not of these parts," he went on, shading his eyes
with his hand. "She hath a look of the Inner Sea to me. But the cog
is as plainly English as Ralph here. Mayhap one or other will serve
our purpose."
They sought an inn within the walls of the little town, and Hugh
explained to the landlord their desire for conveyance over-sea.
"And where would you be going, lords?" he enquired.
"To France," answered Hugh. "An it be possible, we prefer to land at
one of the northern ports."
The landlord stroked his bristly chin.
"At most times you might have your pick of any port on the Narrow
Seas," he said. "But what with the King's new port-dues and the
hiring of shipping in Flanders for the Crusade, there are but two
vessels here such as your lordships would care to sail in."
"Do you know aught about them?"
"Little enough. The cog there belongs to one Messer Nicholas
Dunning, a worshipful mariner of Dover. He may be for France, and he
may be for Flanders. I will make inquiry for you. The galley is a
Cypriot, come hither some two weeks or more agone, with a cargo of
wine. He hath lain here since, but what is his business and the port
he sails for next I cannot say. Shall I enquire of him, too?"
"Ay, do so."
The landlord withdrew, and the comrades set themselves to the supper
of roast fowl, bread and ale that was served by his wife. They were
in the midst of the meal, when Ralph happened to look up at a nearby
window and exclaimed:
"Marry, there is a tarry son of the sea for you, Messer Hugh!"
Hugh glanced through the window in time to see a swart, pock-marked
face, with beady black eyes under a gaudy kerchief that was wound
around sinister brows. The owner of the face bowed profusely, and
disappeared in the direction of the inn-door. A moment later he
entered the room, still bowing and scraping. In stature he was very
squat and broad, with a huge barrel-chest and short, sinewy legs. He
was clad in baggy white trousers and a dingy red jacket.
"It has come to my ears that your lordships are awaiting passage
across the Narrow Seas," he said in passable French.
"That is true," answered Hugh.
The swart man bowed again.
"I am a merchant of Cyprus," he said. "I am but recently come north
with a cargo of wine. Now my cargo is unloaded and I am preparing to
sail home. I shall be glad to take you wherever you will."
Hugh hesitated and looked at Matteo. Seeing his indecision, the
shipman continued:
"And you journey to Outremer, how much easier it will be to sail
thither all the way in a good stout galley than to travel over-land
for weary months, facing robbery and danger at every step. My galley
is well-armed, lords, and if the corsairs attack us you shall have
pleasant fighting, without danger to yourselves. What say you?"
"How know you we journey to Outremer?" asked Matteo sharply.
The man made a gesture very like an Eastern salaam.
"There is a Crusade being preached," he answered innocently. "Many
stalwart knights are sailing from Flanders. I thought two such
well-appointed lords would be journeying in the same direction. But
if I am wrong I beg you will consider the words unsaid."
"We do not seek passage to Outremer," returned Matteo.
"Ah, but wherever you wish to go, there I will gladly carry you,"
returned the swart shipman quickly. "Name the port, lords, and it
shall be done."
"You are very anxious to have us, 'twould seem," interjected Hugh.
"I am not too anxious to prevent me from driving a good bargain with
your lordships," answered the man with a leer. "I would not have you
think me careless of my pocket. But for the money you will be more
comfortably lodged than on any other vessel, I pledge you the word of
Bartolommeo Caraducci."
"What would you call a fair price?"
"Name me your port, and I will make you an offer," countered the man.
"Let us say Rouen," spoke up Matteo.
The shipman considered.
"There will be three horses with you? Horses are the devil at sea,
lords. Let us say two silver pennies for each of you, a penny for
your servant and three pennies each for the horses."
There was a bustle at the inn-door, and the landlord entered,
escorting a bluff giant of a man whose ruddy face was flushed with
haste.
"What's this?" bellowed the giant. "Did I hear this Italian
knave--or Cypriot or whatever he calls himself--asking three pennies
each for horses? To Rouen, said you? Marry, but the man is as
dishonest as he looks! Now, I----"
The swart shipman scowled at him.
"I will take your horses for two pennies each, lords," he offered.
"That is more like it," said the giant. "But I am an Englishman,
mark you, and I will take you all, bag and baggage, horses and man,
to Rouen for ten silver pennies in hand at Rouen quayside."
The swart shipman pushed forward.
"Heed him not, lords," he shouted. "I will take you for nine
pennies!"
"You are too eager," said Hugh haughtily.
"Eager, say you? Marry, lord, I am but eager to do what I may for
the rescue of the Holy Sepulchre and----"
The English sailor laughed heartily.
"He eager to rescue the Sepulchre! St. Edward, 'tis good hearing!
Why, the fellow's crew are three-quarters hang-dog Saracen hounds or
I never stopped a corsair in the Inner Sea!"
"'Tis a lie, fair sirs," pleaded the swart shipman, his ugly face
crimson with rage. "Look you, and----"
"Enough," answered Hugh. "We are done with you, fellow. Ralph, open
him the door."
Ralph heaved up his impressive bulk, and advanced ruthlessly upon the
man. The Cypriot's eyes lit up with rage, but he controlled himself,
and made another low bow.
"You do greatly wrong me, lords," he said protestingly. "But I pray
for you a safe journey."
As the door closed behind him, Hugh turned to the English shipman.
"Who are you?" he asked.
"I am Nicholas Dunning, shipman, of Dover. My cog, the _Alice_, lies
in the harbour yonder, lordling. As for that rogue----" he gestured
out the window toward the retreating form of the swart shipman--"my
guess is that he is a pirate when he is not trading. An I were a
citizen of Hastings I would take heed to my gates when he was about.
There is no good in him, I'll warrant you, with his swaggering
blackamoor crew."
"Be that as it may, we are through with him," said Hugh, amused by
the man's manner. "Now, what terms do you make to carry us to Rouen,
sailing not later than the morrow?"
The English shipman's lips shut tight.
"I never make but the one offer, and that is an honest offer," he
asserted. "Ten pennies I named it, and ten pennies I bide by. If
there were more of you I might shave it down, but for your number
that is a fair charge."
Matteo leaned forward and whispered in Hugh's ear:
"The fellow speaks truth. Moreover, he hath us at advantage, for
save our friend of the galley, there is none here to compete with
him."
"Then shall we accept?" asked Hugh.
Matteo shrugged his shoulders.
"Hast any desire to sail with the Cypriot?"
Hugh shook his head.
"I know not why, yet----"
Matteo leaned closer.
"Dost mind what the greenwood man said as he died?" he whispered.
A light of understanding leaped into Hugh's face.
"'Twas a swart, pock-marked man from the sea hired them!" he
exclaimed.
"Ay!"
Hugh drew a deep breath.
"Then we must away from here," he said. He turned to Nicholas
Dunning. "Messer Nicholas," he went on, "we accept your offer. An
you start with the morn, it were best we came aboard your vessel
to-night."
"All shall be ready for you, lords," assented the shipman. "We sail
with the morrow's tide. And you will be in honest English company,
fair sirs, and not with slit-nosed mongrel scourings of the Inner
Sea."
He sniffed with contempt of his rival as he left the room.
"A monstrous brave man, by Our Lady," remarked Ralph admiringly.