Sir Nigel

by Arthur Conan Doyle

  XXII. HOW ROBERT OF BEAUMANOIR CAME TO PLOERMEL

  Sir Robert Knolles and his men passed onward that day, looking back manya time to see the two dark columns of smoke, one thicker and one moreslender, which arose from the castle and from the fort of La Brohiniere.There was not an archer nor a man-at-arms who did not bear a greatbundle of spoil upon his back, and Knolles frowned darkly as he lookedupon them. Gladly would he have thrown it all down by the roadside, buthe had tried such matters before, and he knew that it was as safe totear a half-gnawed bone from a bear as their blood-won plunder from suchmen as these. In any case it was but two days' march to Ploermel, wherehe hoped to bring his journey to an end.

  That night they camped at Mauron, where a small English and Bretongarrison held the castle. Right glad were the bowmen to see some oftheir own countrymen once more, and they spent the night over wine anddice, a crowd of Breton girls assisting, so that next morning theirbundles were much lighter, and most of the plunder of La Brohiniere wasleft with the men and women of Mauron. Next day their march lay with afair sluggish river upon their right, and a great rolling forest upontheir left which covered the whole country. At last toward evening thetowers of Ploermel rose before them and they saw against a darkening skythe Red Cross of England waving in the wind. So blue was the river Ducwhich skirted the road, and so green its banks, that they might indeedhave been back beside their own homely streams, the Oxford Thames orthe Midland Trent, but ever as the darkness deepened there came in wildgusts the howling of wolves from the forest to remind them that theywere in a land of war. So busy had men been for many years in huntingone another that the beasts of the chase had grown to a monstrousdegree, until the streets of the towns were no longer safe from the wildinroads of the fierce creatures, the wolves and the bears, who swarmedaround them.

  It was nightfall when the little army entered the outer gate of theCastle of Ploermel and encamped in the broad Bailey yard. Ploermel wasat that time the center of British power in Mid-Brittany, as Hennebonwas in the West, and it was held by a garrison of five hundred men underan old soldier, Richard of Bambro', a rugged Northumbrian, trained inthat great school of warriors, the border wars. He who had ridden themarches of the most troubled frontier in Europe, and served his timeagainst the Liddlesdale and Nithsdale raiders was hardened for a life inthe field.

  Of late, however, Bambro' had been unable to undertake any enterprise,for his reinforcements had failed him, and amid his following he hadbut three English knights and seventy men. The rest were a mixed crewof Bretons, Hainaulters and a few German mercenary soldiers, bravemen individually, as those of that stock have ever been, but lackinginterest in the cause, and bound together by no common tie of blood ortradition.

  On the other hand, the surrounding castles, and especially that ofJosselin, were held by strong forces of enthusiastic Bretons, inflamedby a common patriotism, and full of warlike ardor. Robert of Beaumanoir,the fierce seneschal of the house of Rohan, pushed constant forays andexcursions against Ploermel so that town and castle were both in dailydread of being surrounded and besieged. Several small parties of theEnglish faction had been cut off and slain to a man, and so straitenedwere the others that it was difficult for them to gather provisions fromthe country round.

  Such was the state of Bambro's garrison when on that March eveningKnolles and his men streamed into the bailey-yard of his Castle.

  In the glare of the torches at the inner gate Bambro' was waiting toreceive them, a dry, hard, wizened man, small and fierce, with beadyblack eyes and quick furtive ways.

  Beside him, a strange contrast, stood his Squire, Croquart, a German,whose name and fame as a man-at-arms were widespread, though like RobertKnolles himself he had begun as a humble page. He was a very tall man,with an enormous spread of shoulders, and a pair of huge hands withwhich he could crack a horse-shoe. He was slow and lethargic, save inmoments of excitement, and his calm blond face, his dreamy blue eyes andhis long fair hair gave him so gentle an appearance that none save thosewho had seen him in his berserk mood, raging, an iron giant, in theforefront of the battle, could ever guess how terrible a warrior hemight be. Little knight and huge squire stood together under the arch ofthe donjon and gave welcome to the newcomers, whilst a swarm of soldierscrowded round to embrace their comrades and to lead them off where theymight feed and make merry together.

  Supper had been set in the hall of Ploermel wherein the knights andsquires assembled. Bambro' and Croquart were there with Sir HughCalverly, an old friend of Knolles and a fellow-townsman, for both weremen of Chester. Sir Hugh was a middle-sized flaxen man, with hardgray eyes and fierce large-nosed face sliced across with the scar of asword-cut. There too were Geoffrey D'Ardaine, a young Breton seigneur,Sir Thomas Belford, a burly thick-set Midland Englishman, Sir ThomasWalton, whose surcoat of scarlet martlets showed that he was of theSurrey Waltons, James Marshall and John Russell, young English squires,and the two brothers, Richard and Hugh Le Galliard, who were of Gasconblood. Besides these were several squires, unknown to fame, and of thenew-comers, Sir Robert Knolles, Sir Thomas Percy, Nigel Loring andtwo other squires, Allington and Parsons. These were the companywho gathered in the torch-light round the table of the Seneschal ofPloermel, and kept high revel with joyous hearts because they thoughtthat much honor and noble deeds lay before them.

  But one sad face there was at the board, and that belonged to him at thehead of it. Sir Robert Bambro' sat with his chin leaning upon his handand his eyes downcast upon the cloth, whilst all round him rose themerry clatter of voices, everyone planning some fresh enterprise whichmight now be attempted. Sir Robert Knolles was for an immediate advanceupon Josselin. Calverly thought that a raid might be made into the Southwhere the main French power lay. Others spoke of an attack upon Vannes.

  To all these eager opinions Bambro' listened in a moody silence, whichhe broke at last by a fierce execration which drew a hushed attentionfrom the company. "Say no more, fair sirs," he cried; "for indeed yourwords are like so many stabs in my heart. All this and more we mightindeed have done. But of a truth you are too late."

  "Too late?'" cried Knolles. "What mean you, Richard?"

  "Alas; that I should have to say it, but you and all these fair soldiersmight be back in England once more for all the profit that I am like tohave from your coming. Saw you a rider on a white horse ere you reachedthe Castle?"

  "Nay, I saw him not?"

  "He came by the western road from Hennebon. Would that he had broken hisneck ere he came here. Not an hour ago he left his message and nowhath ridden on to warn the garrison of Malestroit. A truce has beenproclaimed for a year betwixt the French King and the English, and hewho breaks it forfeits life and estate."

  "A truce!" Here was an end to all their fine dreams. They looked blanklyat each other all round the table, whilst Croquart brought his greatfist down upon the board until the glasses rattled again. Knolles satwith clenched hands as if he were a figure of stone, while Nigel's heartturned cold and heavy within him. A truce! Where then was his thirddeed, and how might he return without it?

  Even as they sat in moody silence there was the call of a bugle fromsomewhere out in the darkness.

  Sir Richard looked up with surprise. "We are not wont to be summonedafter once the portcullis is up," said he. "Truce or no truce, we mustlet no man within our walls until we have proved him. Croquart, see toit!"

  The huge German left the room. The company were still seated indespondent silence when he returned.

  "Sir Richard," said he, "the brave knight Robert of Beaumanoir and hisSquire William de Montaubon are without the gate, and would fain havespeech with you."

  Bambro' started in his chair. What could the fierce leader of theBretons, a man who was red to the elbow with English blood, have to sayto them? On what errand had he left his castle of Josselin to pay thisvisit to his deadly enemies?

  "Are they armed?" he asked.

  "They are unarmed."

  "Then admit them and bring them hither, but double
the guards and takeall heed against surprise."

  Places were set at the farther end of the table for these mostunexpected guests. Presently the door was swung open, and Croquart withall form and courtesy announced the two Bretons, who entered with theproud and lofty air of gallant warriors and high-bred gentlemen.

  Beaumanoir was a tall dark man with raven hair and long swarthy beard.He was strong and straight as a young oak, with fiery black eyes, andno flaw in his comely features save that his front teeth had been dashedfrom their sockets. His Squire, William of Montaubon, was also tall,with a thin hatchet face, and two small gray eyes set very close uponeither side of a long fierce nose. In Beaumanoir's expression one readonly gallantry and frankness; in Montaubon's there was gallantry also,but it was mixed with the cruelty and cunning of the wolf. They bowedas they entered, and the little English seneschal advanced withoutstretched hand to meet them.

  "Welcome, Robert, so long as you are beneath this roof," said he."Perhaps the time may come in another place when we may speak to eachother in another fashion."

  "So I hope, Richard," said Beaumanoir; "but indeed we of Josselin bearyou in high esteem and are much beholden to you and to your men for allthat you have done for us. We could not wish better neighbors nor anyfrom whom more honor is to be gained. I learn that Sir Robert Knollesand others have joined you, and we are heavy-hearted to think that theorders of our Kings should debar us from attempting a venture." Heand his squire sat down at the places set for them, and filling theirglasses drank to the company.

  "What you say is true, Robert," said Bambro', "and before you came wewere discussing the matter among ourselves and grieving that it shouldbe so. When heard you of the truce?"

  "Yester-evening a messenger rode from Nantes."

  "Our news came to-night from Hennebon. The King's own seal was on theorder. So I fear that for a year at least you will bide at Josselin andwe at Ploermel, and kill time as we may. Perchance we may hunt the wolftogether in the great forest, or fly our hawks on the banks of the Duc."

  "Doubtless we shall do all this, Richard," said Beaumanoir; "but bySaint Cadoc it is in my mind that with good-will upon both sides we mayplease ourselves and yet stand excused before our Kings."

  Knights and squires leaned forward in their chairs, their eager eyes,fixed upon him. He broke into a gap-toothed smile as he looked round atthe circle, the wizened seneschal, the blond giant, Nigel's fresh youngface, the grim features of Knolles, and the yellow hawk-like Calverly,all burning with the same desire.

  "I see that I need not doubt the good-will," said he, "and of that I wasvery certain before I came upon this errand. Bethink you then that thisorder applies to war but not to challenges, spear-runnings, knightlyexchanges or the like. King Edward is too good a knight, and so is KingJohn, that either of them should stand in the way of a gentleman whodesires to advance himself or to venture his body for the exaltation ofhis lady. Is this not so?"

  A murmur of eager assent rose from the table.

  "If you as the garrison of Ploermel march upon the garrison of Josselin,then it is very plain that we have broken the truce and upon our headsbe it. But if there be a private bickering betwixt me, for example, andthis young squire whose eyes show that he is very eager for honor, andif thereafter others on each side join in and fight upon the quarrel,it is in no sense war, but rather our own private business which no kingcan alter."

  "Indeed, Robert," said Bambro', "all that you say is very good andfair."

  Beaumanoir leaned forward toward Nigel, his brimming glass in his hand."Your name, squire?" said he.

  "My name is Nigel Loring."

  "I see that you are young and eager, so I choose you as I would fainhave been chosen when I was of your age."

  "I thank you, fair sir," said Nigel. "It is great honor that one sofamous as yourself should condescend to do some small deed upon me."

  "But we must have cause for quarrel, Nigel. Now here I drink to theladies of Brittany, who of all ladies upon this earth are the most fairand the most virtuous, so that the least worthy-amongst them is farabove the best of England. What say you to that, young sir?"

  Nigel dipped his finger in his glass and leaning over he placed its wetimpress on the Breton's hand. "This in your face!" said he.

  Beaumanoir swept off the red drop of moisture and smiled his approval."It could not have been better done," said he. "Why spoil my velvetpaltock as many a hot-headed fool would have done. It is in my mind,young sir, that you will go far. And now, who follows up this quarrel?"

  A growl ran round the table.

  Beaumanoir ran his eye round and shook his head. "Alas!" said he, "thereare but twenty of you here, and I have thirty at Josselin who are soeager to advance themselves that if I return without hope for all ofthem there will be sore hearts amongst them. I pray you, Richard, sincewe have been at these pains to arrange matters, that you in turn will dowhat you may. Can you not find ten more men?"

  "But not of gentle blood."

  "Nay, it matters not, if they will only fight."

  "Of that there can be no doubt, for the castle is full of archers andmen-at-arms who would gladly play a part in the matter."

  "Then choose ten," said Beaumanoir.

  But for the first time the wolf-like squire opened his thin lips."Surely, my lord, you will not allow archers," said he.

  "I fear not any man."

  "Nay, fair sir, consider that this is a trial of weapons betwixt uswhere man faces man. You have seen these English archers, and you knowhow fast and how strong are their shafts. Bethink you that if ten ofthem were against us it is likely that half of us would be down beforeever we came to handstrokes."

  "By Saint Cadoc, William, I think that you are right," cried the Breton."If we are to have such a fight as will remain in the memories of men,you will bring no archers and we no crossbows. Let it be steel uponsteel. How say you then?"

  "Surely we can bring ten men-at-arms to make up the thirty that youdesire, Robert. It is agreed then that we fight on no quarrel of Englandand France, but over this matter of the ladies in which you and SquireLoring have fallen out. And now the time?"

  "At once."

  "Surely at once, or perchance a second messenger may come and this alsobe forbidden. We will be ready with to-morrow's sunrise."

  "Nay, a day later," cried the Breton Squire. "Bethink you, my lord, thatthe three lances of Radenac would take time to come over."

  "They are not of our garrison, and they shall not have a place."

  "But, fair sir, of all the lances of Brittany--"

  "Nay, William, I will not have it an hour later. To-morrow it shall be,Richard."

  "And where?"

  "I marked a fitting place even as I rode here this evening. If you crossthe river and take the bridle-path through the fields which leads toJosselin you come midway upon a mighty oak standing at the corner of afair and level meadow. There let us meet at midday to-morrow."

  "Agreed!" cried Bambro'. "But I pray you not to rise, Robert! The nightis still young and the spices and hippocras will soon be served. Bidewith us, I pray you, for if you would fain hear the latest songs fromEngland, these gentlemen have doubtless brought them. To some of usperchance it is the last night, so we would make it a full one."

  But the gallant Breton shook his head. "It may indeed be the last nightfor many," said he, "and it is but right that my comrades should knowit. I have no need of monk or friar, for I cannot think that harm willever come beyond the grave to one who has borne himself as a knightshould, but others have other thoughts upon these matters and would fainhave time for prayer and penitence. Adieu, fair sirs, and I drink a lastglass to a happy meeting at the midway oak."