by M. M. Blake
CHAPTER XV.
'O HIGH AMBITION LOWLY LAID!'
The choughs and ravens which had flapped lazily away, with noisy wingsand harsh croaking, when the Royalists had come to search amongst thedead and wounded for Ralph de Guader, had settled down to their banquetagain as soon as their disturbers had departed, mistakenly laden withthe body of the Breton knight whom Grillonne had decorated with theearl's helmet. Their foul beaks were busy with the flesh of the deadand the eyes of the living.
The harsh clamour of these noisy revellers pierced at length to thefainting ears of the fallen earl, who was in some measure revived bythe cordial which Grillonne had poured down his throat. Consciousnesscame back to him, a poor exchange, under such circumstances, for kindoblivion. For he could move neither hand nor foot, and the weight uponhis chest was as the oppression of a fearful nightmare--a nightmarefrom which there was no awaking. He lay helpless--the living under thedead!
Above him stretched the twilight sky, still flushed with fleeting,blood-red clouds, beyond which, from pale green pools of infinitedepth, glimmered, here and there, a silvery star. To the rightstretched the sombre heath, its rising hills crested with fantasticfigures of contorted slain, men and horses stiffened into uncouth andterrible forms; while groaning wounded were heaped between them, theirpanting anguish not less awful than the silence of the dead.
To his left also were witnesses of battle, but not so many, for on thatside the hungry morasses had swallowed them up. To the south and westthe measureless fen stretched to the horizon, crimson to its farthestverge with the ensanguined glow of the sun, the tall reeds reddenedlike warrior's lances that had been dipped in the life-blood of thefoe.
The air was full of the awful scent of wounds and blood, and the weird,dank odours of the decaying sedges, while the wailing wind piped andmoaned over the wold, swaying the rushes, though scarcely making aripple on the protected surfaces of the bottomless lagoons.
Mallard and teal and plover came circling back to their haunts in thelonely swamps, now that the din of battle, which had frightened them,was over and done; and, as the twilight deepened, bats and owls cameforth with silent wings to hunt their night-roaming prey.
Ralph's open eyes looked only into the sky, and at the wild,wind-driven clouds fleeting across the calm, immutable heavens beyond,as the struggling hosts of mortals fleet over the face of eternity.
His soul was filled with an overwhelming sense of desolation and guilt.He had brought his fate upon himself, and he must face the Shadow ofthe Valley of Death, all forsworn and blood-stained as he was; alone,helpless. No wife to comfort him, no priest to absolve him,
'Cut off even in the blossoms of his sin, Unhousel'd, disappointed, unanel'd.'
Against the clear spaces of the sky, he saw, high up, almost above theclouds, an ordered flight of wild swans passing swiftly westward intothe sunset glow.
Oh, that he were free as they, winged as the wind! His spirit writhedin fierce rebellion. He put forth all his force in a wild struggle todrag his limbs from the prisoning mass that detained them, but he couldnot lift the ghastly burden that weighted him to earth an inch.
'Mary in heaven, help me!' he groaned. 'I am scarce wounded, and sostrong! It will take me hours to die, and these foul birds will perishmine eyes!'
The cold sweat burst from his brow, and, as he writhed again, hesomewhat shook his head, and the bells on the jester's cap tinkled.
He quivered with astonishment, and contrived so far to lift his head asto catch a glimpse of the points of the cape which covered hisshoulders. At first the idea seized him that he was no longer on earthat all, but in purgatory, and dressed in a jester's garb, in that hissin had been through the folly of pride and mad ambition. Then, with aflash, came the joyous thought of Grillonne, the faithful, the ready ofwit, the fertile of resource.
A wild gladness came to him, but as the sky grew dark, and the starswere obscured by clouds, hope left him again.
'If it were he indeed, he has forgotten me, or has met his death intrying to save me.'
Then all the joys of earth passed before him in a fair pageant, and hethought of his young bride with her clear, loving eyes that he mightnever see again, and to whom he had been united with such magnificencescarcely a month before, and who was but a few short miles from thescene of his present suffering; and at the thought, burning tearswelled from beneath his closed lids and rolled down his bronzed cheeks,moistening the parti-coloured edges of Grillonne's cape.
'Ah, it is bitter!' he groaned.
'Not more bitter for thee than for the scores and tens of scores thouhast led into like misery,' said awakened conscience grimly.
'_Mea culpa! mea culpa!_' murmured the unfortunate warrior in hisanguish. 'My days have been evil in the land. I have sought not thewill of Heaven, but mine own vain-glory. But oh, Mary Mother, let notmy sins be visited on the head of my sweet lady! as thou wert a woman,protect her from all harm! Sure William will be merciful to hiskinswoman.'
Dismal indeed were the thoughts that chased each other across hisrestless brain, which seemed to make up by its activity for theenforced stillness of his body. Visions crowded upon him of his castleof Blauncheflour in flames, and his lady in the power of insultingor--and it was little less terrible to his ambitious, jealousspirit--too-courteous conquerors, some one of whom might, perchance,find favour in her eyes and drive his memory from her heart.
At length, however, as the stillness of the night fell over the plain,broken only by the moaning wind or the agonised groan of somefellow-sufferer, he grew calmer, and a deep resignation flooded hisbreast.
'_Mea culpa!_' he murmured again. Death seemed inevitable, and he bowedhis spirit humbly to accept it.
Hark!--
The mingled anguish and joy of hope awaked once more. For the silencewas broken by a sound so faint that his listening ears could scarcedetect its repetition, distracted as they were by the tumultuous pulseswhich throbbed at the possibility of escape. Yet why hope rather thanfear? Why should the sound of approaching steps mean friends ratherthan foes?
The fact grew certain. Steps were approaching, and were accompanied bya clash of arms that betokened soldiery.
How he strained to catch every faint sound that might indicate thedirection in which these, his fellow-men, alive and strong and capableof help, were moving!
'St. Nicholas befriend me! If the miracle is wrought that I be rescuedfrom this living tomb, I vow to make pilgrimage to the Holy Sepulchrebefore my days are done!'
Then he shuddered in sick misery lest the band should pass him by!Better a blow from the _misericorde_ of an enemy, than the languishingtorture of his present position.
Others thought so too, for he heard more than one piteous cry for help.
Then he, the proud earl, lifted up a feeble voice and craveddeliverance, even by death!--
And it came.
'Here! here! This way, my lads, this way!' cried the familiar voice ofthe faithful jester. 'Look you, galliards, there is my famous cap andcape! Saints be praised! He wears them still. The Lord grant there is aliving skull in the cap. I shrewdly thought I heard him squeak!'
'Ay, Grillonne, thou didst, sure enough!' cried the earl; and therevulsion of feeling from despair to hope was so great that he faintedagain.
When he revived, his head was in Grillonne's arms, and the intolerableweight of the slain who had fallen above him was removed from hislimbs, which, however, were so numbed that he could not move them.Half-a-dozen stout fellows, archers, slingers, and spearmen, werebustling about him, dimly visible by the light of a horn lantern whichone of them carried.
Grillonne, seeing his eyes open, instantly held a flask to his lips,and when the draught had helped his revival, nodded sagely.
''Tis well to be taken for a fool sometimes, nuncle.' he remarked,twitching his tinkling cap from the earl's head. 'Thy fine helmet hasbeen carried off in triumph to the enemy's camp on the corse of poorSir Guy de Landerneau, whom I bedecked with it; seeing that,
as theyhad already killed him as dead as a Norwich red herring, they could dohim no further hurt. 'Twill have given us time even if they discoverthe cheat, as most like they will, for so many of them are full wellacquainted with thy noble hawk nose.'
'Ah, Grillonne ready-wit,' said the earl, 'St. Nicholas reward thee!That prince of hypocrisy, Lanfranc, may say that jesters have no hope,and are doomed without fail to the worm that dieth not and the firethat knows no quenching![5] But I tell thee, Grillonne, he in hellshall pray to thee in heaven as Dives to Lazarus!' and the groaningnoble kissed the hand that lay upon his breast, albeit the memberbelonged to one of that despised class, for death is a greater levellerthan any democrat or republican of them all, and Ralph de Guader hadheld long converse with him.
[5] 'D. Have jesters hope? M. None. In their whole design they are the ministers of Satan. Of them it is said: "They have not known God, therefore God hath despised them, and the Lord shall have them in derision, for mockers shall be mocked."'--Lanfranc's _Elucidarium_, p. 256, quoted by Hook, _Lives of the Archbishops of Canterbury_.
Grillonne raised the hand which had been so honoured to his own lipsand added some hearty smacks to the aristocratic salute it hadreceived.
'Nay, my dear lord,' he said in a rather husky voice, 'I would fain laythat hand up in lavender and take it to heaven with me when I die,since thou thinkest I have hope to get there. But alack! we have roughwork before us to prevent thee from getting thither before thy palaceis prepared for thee. Thou art not saved yet by a very long chalk. IfSt. Nicholas is half so generous as thou deemest, he will give me myreward at once, like a free-handed gentleman, in the shape of successto the safe ending of my undertaking; nor must we spend further time inpalaver.'
He beckoned to the men who were with him, and four of them came forwardwith a litter roughly woven of osiers, of which a plentiful supply wasnear at hand. Grillonne and another lifted the earl into it, and theyset off at a rapid pace, the jester guiding them along the smoothestpath; and watching over his charge with tender care.
To De Guader it seemed as if he were couched on pillows of softestdown, notwithstanding his wounds and the pain the motion caused him,for the joy of being rescued from his horrible entombment, and ofhaving yet a chance of life and love, was so intense that he seemed tobe in a dream of bliss.
His eyes filled with grateful tears each time that a gleam from thelantern gave him a fitful glimpse of Grillonne's face. Never had hethought to be so glad to look on that wizened, whimsical countenance,with its oblique eyes twinkling with mingled malice and affection, andwhich seemed almost quainter under the conical steel-cap with thenasal, in which he had ensconced it on giving up his cap to the earl,than in that strange headgear itself.
The way was no flowery one either. Slain men and horses encumbered thebearers at every step, and more than one pitiful voice from somewounded wretch, in such plight as the earl had just been rescued from,besought them in mercy to stop and give aid, for the sake of MaryMother and the saints in heaven. Most pitiful of all was the cry for'Water, for the love of Christ!' from men whose limbs were actuallyimmersed in the rippling edges of the meres or engulfed in the slimyooze, and who were so faint from wounds, or so set fast by the slainabove them, that they could reach no drop wherewith to moisten theirparched lips and slake the burning death-thirst which tormented them.But they cried to deaf ears; nay, when entreating arms were thrownaround the limbs of the litter-bearers, a sharp cut across the knuckleswith dagger or anlace speedily unclasped the detaining fingers, whetherthey belonged to friend or foe.
It was rough treatment, but the men were risking their lives in theirendeavour to save that of the earl, and delay would have been fatalboth to him and to themselves. The fact that the body of Sir Guy deLanderneau had been removed by the enemy proved that they desired tomake certain of De Guader's fate, and on finding their mistake theymight at any time return to rectify it.
The moon had risen by this, and shone between the swift fleeting cloudsthat sped across the sky. By her light and the uncertain glimmer of thelantern, Ralph saw that two of his rescuers wore the winged helms andlong moustaches and golden torcs distinguishing the costume of theDanes. His heart leapt with hope that the messengers he had despatchedto the court of King Sweyn had moved the warlike monarch to seize theopportunity of striking a blow at his ancient enemy, William ofNormandy, and had sent him timely reinforcements. But their progresswas too rapid for speech, and whatever might be his curiosity, he hadto lie passive in his litter and allow himself to be bornewhithersoever his rescuers pleased.
And by what a weird and desolate pathway did they bear him!
Heading, apparently, for the very heart of the fen that stretchedwestward as far as eye could reach, its level surface unbroken by treeor hill, and only varied by beds of tall reeds and snake-like pools ofstill, dark water, the surfaces of which were scarcely rippled by thegusty breeze, they advanced steadily for the better part of an hour.
The fitful light of the half shrouded moon cast ghastly gleams upon thewaving plumes of the flowering sedges and white tufts of themeadow-sweet, whose strong and somewhat sickly perfume mingled,strangely luscious, with the dank odours of peat and decaying rushesand grasses. Now and again some frightened bird flew screaming from itsroosting-place, or dusky water-rat glided hastily into thicker cover,or plunged with a flop into the water, while the pipe of the curlew, orboom of the bittern, sounded from afar off in the melancholy marshes.The loneliness was intense, and seemed but accentuated by the presenceof bird and beast.
The Rescue of the Earl.]
In the dimness of the cloudy night, with the uncertain bursts ofmoonlight, that seemed to make the chaos of scarce divided earth andwater but more difficult to distinguish, the men who bore the earlthreaded their way through the bewildering maze, with an unerringcelerity and absence of hesitation that proved them to be no strangersto its mysterious solitude.
At length they halted, beside a channel less overgrown with weeds andrushes than the many they had passed, and which was, in fact, the GreatOuse River.
One of the party put a horn to his lips and sounded a couple of mots.His summons was answered from the water, and in a few seconds a boatimpelled by eight sturdy oarsmen shot forth from a bend in the riverand drew to the bank. The earl was speedily put on board, with thefaithful Grillonne at his head, and his bearers embarked, some withhim, some in a second boat which had come in the wake of the first.
De Guader confided himself utterly to the safe keeping of his jester,and the rhythmic sound of the oars, which he believed were every momentbringing him nearer to liberty, soothed him inexpressibly. He fell intoa drowsy sleep of exhaustion, never really losing consciousness, butdevoid of all impatience, and almost of all curiosity as to whither hewas being taken.
But the splash of the oars ceased at length, and the keel of the boatgrated on the shore of a small island, raising a modest crown a littleabove the level of the surrounding fen. It was protected by anearthwork somewhat similar in construction to the great dykes withwhich Cambridge is seamed, the Devil's Dyke, Fleamdyke, and others,and, had the light served, the low turrets of a long, rambling,two-storied house might have been seen behind its shelter.
A summons was given by a few mots on the horn, and in answer a deepvoice threw a challenge across the sullen surface of the waters,--
'Who goes there?'
'St. Nicholas for Guader!'
A rattle of chains and hoarse creaking of bolts and hinges followed,and a heavy gate was slowly lifted, which admitted the boats into aninner moat. They glided in and moored their vessels at a small landingstage on the opposite side, the gate closing instantly behind them.
As they did so, the sentry asked anxiously, in a low voice and in theSaxon tongue, 'What cheer?'
'All's well!' was the answer.
'St. Eadmund be praised!' ejaculated the sentry fervently; and theearl's heart leapt with a thrill of joy and gratitude to the poorunk
nown soldier who cared about his safety, so infinitely precious hadthe humblest human sympathy become to him since those dreadful hourswhen he had thought himself doomed to quit the cheerful earth and thefaces of his fellow-men for evermore!
Inside the enclosure a party of wild-looking ceorls surrounded them,with shaggy locks and rude jerkins of sheepskin, armed with pikes andstaves for the most part, but some few better clad, and bearing theterrible seax; their brawny necks half hidden by their unshorn beards,which hung in tow-coloured elf-locks round their weather-beaten andscarred faces. Amongst them were one or two tall fellows, dressed, likethose in the party of rescuers who had attracted De Guader's attention,in Danish mode.
This much he gathered by the fitful moonlight and the feeble light oflanterns carried by the men. Question and answer followed quick betweenhis bearers and their rough colleagues, but he could comprehend littleof what they said, for they spoke in all manner of tongues anddialects.
'Thou hast had a harsh ride, I fear me, good nuncle,' said Grillonne,bending over his beloved master with tender solicitude. 'Gramercy! 'Tisa God-forsaken hole we have brought thee to; but beggars must not bechoosers, and let us hope that the archbishop's people will keep theirpious noses from sniffing thee out in it! Troth! if they venture themhere, I parry, some of these stout carles will slit them for themparlous quick!'
'Methinks any corner of the earth is better than being quite out of it,Grillonne,' returned the earl, with a gentle smile. 'I am not like tobe critical; but in good sooth I would fain know the title of my host?'
'I scarce know it myself, good my lord,' replied the jester. ''Tis aSaxon, or more properly Anglo-Danish thegn, whose son went shares inthy escapade, and has got a maimed foot for his share of the booty,they tell me. The father and son have had a price on their heads sinceHereward Leofricsson's downfall, and have a natural fellow-feeling forthy discomfiture, sweet nuncle.'
Meanwhile they had reached the entrance of the house, and the earl wasborne into a long barnlike hall, very sparsely furnitured, with a tablerunning almost from one end of it to the other, and rude settles andstools placed against it, as in preparation for a meal. At one end wasan archway leading into another apartment, which seemed, to judge bythe heat and the savoury odours, the noises of pots and kettles andother indications which came from it, to be a kitchen; while at theother end was a cheerful fire of peat, beside which sat an aged warriorwearing the Anglo-Danish tunic and cross-gartered hose, his white hairflowing back over his shoulders and his grizzled beard growing close uphis cheeks, so that it seemed almost to meet the bushy white eyebrowsthat shaded his bright blue eyes. His baldric was richly worked withgold, and he wore massive gold bracelets on his arms.
Beside him stood a broad-shouldered, athletic young man in similargarb; his thick fair hair surrounding his head like a lion's mane, andhis long moustaches and golden beard showing lighter than the bronzedskin of his cheeks and chest; his eyes as bright and blue as those ofhis father, and his neck and sinewy arms covered with tattoo marks. Butthe linen tunic he wore was drabbled with mud and gore, and one of hisfeet was swathed in bandages, through which the crimson stains wouldforce their way, and his muscular hand grasped the arm of his father'scarved oak chair to ease his weight somewhat from the wounded foot.
On the opposite side of the large open fireplace sat a monk in thehabit of the Black Friars, and near by a stately lady, wearing theheadrail and flowing robes which had been the fashion in the time ofthe Confessor; while a bevy of damsels waited behind her, lookingtowards the wounded earl with curious eyes.
The old thegn rose as the bearers brought their noble burden forward,advanced to the litter, and, bowing with great dignity, said in his owntongue,--
'By the Holy Cross! my heart is glad to see thee safe beneath my roof,oh, valorous earl! Would that Ealdred Godwinsson had means to offerfitting hospitality to the son of Ralph the Staller, in whose hand hisown has been placed and under whose standard he has fought in many ahard field! Alas! the glory of his house has faded! Barely can he savehis last days from the fury of his foes by hiding in this wilderness ofthe meres! But to such as he possesses, thrice welcome, noble earl! Hadnot age and infirmity clogged his steps as securely as chains of iron,he had sallied forth to thy rescue himself. Had not a spear-thrust inthe instep, got this morn while fighting in thy ranks, crippled Leofrichis son, that son had gone forth to seek thee.' Here the younger manbowed deeply in token of assent and reverence. 'It boots not! Hisfollowers have been true, and thou art here.'
'Brave thegn,' returned De Guader, raising himself as far as possiblein his litter, 'I thank thee for thy fidelity to a ruined and defeatedman! The saints forefend that my presence bring evil to thy retreat!'
'Nay,' answered Ealdred, 'had those who would harm us the wit to trackus, we had perished long since. But thou art sore wounded! Berwine, thewidow of mine eldest-born, shall leech thy hurts.'
A couch was prepared in a recess near the fireplace, and the earl wasplaced thereon. Cordials and delicate soups, with omelettes of plovers'eggs, were brought to tempt his appetite, and the young thegn's widowexamined his wounds, pansed and dressed them with soothing unguents,and finally bound them up in linen of her own weaving, and with thegreatest tenderness and skill.
Meanwhile the stalwart fellows who had borne the stricken noble so farupon their strong shoulders,--no light burden, sheathed as he was inall his mail!--with Grillonne and others, were regaled with the savourymesses whose odours had assailed them with such enticing welcomethrough the kitchen door as they entered, and, in sooth, they had a_menu_ fit for a king.
Stewed and fried eel, pike and lampreys in pasties, roast gossander,curlew, and snipe!--fare fit for an epicure, and by no means cavilledat by the hungry men before whom it was served--add thereto good ciderand ale.
For this island in the meres was the home of innumerable wildfowl, andfish as many crowded the waters around it. 'Wild swannes, gossanders,water-crows, hernes, hernshaws, cranes, curlewes, mallard, teele,bytters, knotts, styntes, godwytts, widgeons, smeaths, puffins, andmany sorts of gulls; eels, pike, pickerel, perch, roach, barbel,lampreys, and sometimes a royal-fish' (turbot or sturgeon?); so that,as the chronicler relates of Hereward's refuge in the neighbouring Isleof Ely, foemen might sit blockading the place for seven years without'making one hunter cease to set his nets or one fowler to deceive thebirds with springe and snare.'
In this asylum we will leave the earl, and see how it fares withBlauncheflour.