CHAPTER V
THE FIRST BLOOD
"What is this uproar? What is being done?" asked Bernard in agitation."Look, Cadell! Is there no second door to this trap? Should violence beattempted I can obtain no egress by the way I came in; this church isstuffed with people. Shut the screen gates if they show the leastindication of attacking us. 'Sdeath! if it should occur to them to firethis place----"
"They will not do so, on account of their own people that are in it."
"But--but what is the occasion of this noise? How is it I am herewithout anyone to protect me? This should have been looked to. I am notsafe among these savages. It is an accursed bit of negligence that shallbe inquired into. What avails me having men-at-arms if they do notprotect me? Body of my life! Am not I the King's emissary? Am not I abishop? Am I to be held so cheap even by my own men that I am allowedto run the risk of being torn to pieces, or smoked out of a hole likethis?"
"Do not fear, my Lord Bishop," said Cadell, his chaplain andinterpreter, who was himself quaking, "there is a door behind, in thechancel wall. But methinks the danger is without; there is thedisturbance, and the congregation are pressing to get forth."
"Body of my life! I want to know what is happening. Here, quick, youclumsy ass, you beggarly Welshman; Cadell, undo the clasp, the brooch; Iwill have off this cope--and remove my miter. I will leave them here. Ishall be less conspicuous, if weapons are being flourished and stonesare flying."
The bishop speedily divested himself of his ecclesiastical attire, allthe while scolding, cursing his attendant, who was a Welshman by birth,but who had passed into the service of the conquerors, and knew verywell that this would advance him in wealth, and ensure for himself a fatbenefice.
When the bishop had been freed of his vestments, the chaplain unbolted asmall side door, and both emerged from the church.
Outside all was in commotion. The populace was surging to and fro,uttering cries and shouts. An attack had been made on the military guardof the bishop--and these, for their mutual protection, had retreated tothe sumpter horses and mules, surrounded them, and faced theirassailants with swords brandished. About them, dense and menacing, werethe Welshmen of Caio, flourishing cudgels and poles, and the womenurging them on with cries.
Bernard found himself separated from his party by the dense ring ofarmed peasants, infuriated by the wrongs they had endured and by theappeals of the women. He could not see his men, save that now and thenthe sun flashed on their swords as they were whirled above the heads ofthe crowd. No blood seemed to have been shed as yet--the Normans stoodat bay. The Welsh peasants were reluctant to approach too nearly to theterrible blades that whirled and gleamed like lightning.
At the same instant that Bernard issued from the church, the bellsuspended between two beams was violently swung, and its clangor rangout above the noise of the crowd. As if in answer to its summons, fromevery side poured natives, who had apparently been holding themselvesin reserve; they were armed with scythes, axes, and ox-goads. Some werein leather jerkins that would resist a sword-cut or a pike-thrust, butthe majority were in thick wadmel. The congregation were also issuingfrom the west door of the church, thick on each other's heels, and werevainly asking the occasion of the disturbance.
It was some minutes before Pabo emerged into the open, and then it wasthrough the side door. He found the bishop there, livid, every muscle ofhis face jerking with terror, vainly endeavoring to force his chaplainto stand in front of and screen him.
"I hold you answerable for my safety," said Bernard, putting forth atrembling hand and plucking at the Archpriest.
"And I for mine," cried the chaplain.
"Have no fear--none shall touch you," answered Pabo, addressing theprelate. He disdained even to look at the interpreter.
"If any harm come to my men, you shall be held accountable. They areKing Henry's men; he lent them to me. He sent them to guard my sacredperson."
"And mine," said Cadell. "Our father in God cannot make himselfunderstood without me."
"You are in no danger," said Pabo.
Then the Archpriest stepped forward, went to the belfry, and disengagedthe rope from the hand of him who was jangling the bell. With a loud,deep, sonorous voice, he called in their native tongue to his tribesmento be silent, to cease from aggression, and to explain the cause of thetumult.
He was obeyed immediately. All noise ceased, save that caused by theNormans, who continued to thunder menaces.
"Silence them also," said Pabo to the bishop.
"I--I have lost my voice," said the frightened prelate.
At the same moment the crowd parted, and a band of sturdy peasants,carrying clubs, and one armed with a coulter, came forward, drawing withthem Rogier, the bishop's brother, and a young and beautiful woman withdisheveled hair and torn garments. Her wrists had been bound behind herback, but one of the men who drew her along with a great knife cut thethongs, and she shook the fragments from her and extended her freed armsto the priest.
"Pabo!"
"Morwen!" he exclaimed, recoiling in dismay.
"What is the meaning of this?" demanded the bishop. "Unhand my brother,ye saucy curs!" But, though his meaning might be guessed by those whogripped Rogier, they could not understand his words.
"What is the cause of this?" asked Bernard, addressing the Norman."Rogier, how comes this about?"
The Norman was spluttering with rage, and writhing in vain endeavor toextricate himself from the men who held him. It was apparent to Bernardthat the right arm of the man had received some injury, as he waspowerless to employ it against his captors. The rest of the soldierywere hemmed in and unable to go to his assistance.
"Curse the hounds!" he yelled. "They have struck me over the shoulderwith their bludgeons, or by the soul of Rollo I would have sent some ofthem to hell! What are my men about that they do not attempt to releaseme?" he shouted. But through the ring of stout weapons--a quadrupleliving hedge--his followers were unable to pass; moreover, allconsidered their own safety to consist in keeping together.
"What has caused this uproar?" asked the bishop. "Did they attack youwithout provocation?"
"By the soul of the conqueror!" roared Rogier. "Can not a man look atand kiss a pretty woman without these swine resenting it? Have not I aright to carry her off if it please me to grace her with my favor? Mustthese hogs interfere?"
"Brother, you have been indiscreet!"
"Not before your face, Bernard. I know better than that. I know what isdue to your sanctity of a few weeks. I waited like a decent Christiantill your back was turned. You need have known nothing about it. And if,as we rode away, there was a woman behind my knave on his horse, youwould have shut one eye. But these mongrels--these swine--resent it.Body of my life! Resent it!--an honor conferred on one of their girls ifa Norman condescend to look with favor on her. Did not our gracious KingHenry set us the example with a Welsh prince's wench? And shall not wefollow suit?"
"You are a fool, Rogier--at such a time, and so as to compromise me."
"Who is to take you to task, brother?"
"I mean not that, but to risk my safety. To leave me unprotected in thechurch, and to provoke a brawl without, that might have producedserious consequences to me. Odd's life! Where is that Cadell? Slinkingaway?"
"My lord, I have greater cause to fear than yourself. They bear mebitterest hate."
"I care not. Speak for me to these curs. Bid them unhand my brother.They have maimed him--maybe broken his arm. My brother, a Norman, heldas a common felon by these despicable serfs!"
"Bishop," said Pabo, stepping before Bernard.
"What have you to say?" asked the prelate suddenly.
The face of the Archpriest was stern and set, as though chiseled out ofalabaster.
"Are you aware what has been attempted while you were in God's house?What the outrage is has been offered?"
"I know that my brother has been so light as to cast his eye on one ofyour Welsh wenches."
"Lord bishop," said Pa
bo in hard tones, and the sound of his voice wasmetallic as the bell, "he has insulted this noble woman. He bound herhands behind her back and has endeavored to force her onto a horse inspite of her resistance, her struggles--look at her bruised andbleeding arms!--and to carry her away."
"Well, well, soldiers are not clerks and milk-sops."
"Do you know who she is?"
"I know not. Some saucy lass who ogled him, and he took her winks as aninvitation."
"Sieur!" thundered Pabo, and the veins in his brow turned black. "She isthe noblest, purest of women."
"Among broken sherds, a cracked pitcher is precious."
"Bishop, she is my wife!"
"Your wife!" jeered Bernard, leaned back, placed his hands to his side,and laughed. "Priests have no wives; you mean your harlot."
In a moment the bishop was staggering back, and would have fallen unlesshe had had the timber wall of the church to sustain him. In a moment,maddened beyond endurance by the outrage, by the words, by the demeanorof the prelate, in forgetfulness of the sacred office of the man whoinsulted him, in forgetfulness of his own sacred office, forgetful ofeverything save the slur cast on the one dearest to him in the wholeworld, the one to whom he looked with a reverence which from herextended to all womanhood, the incandescent Welsh blood in his veinsburst into sudden flame, and he struck Bernard in the face, on the mouththat had slandered her and insulted him. And the bishop reeled back andstood speechless, with blear eyes fixed, his hands extended against thesplit logs, and from his lips, cut with his teeth, blood was flowing.
Then, in the dead silence that ensued, an old hermit, clothed insackcloth, bareheaded, with long matted white hair, walking bent by theaid of a staff--a man who for thirty years had occupied a cell on themountain-side without leaving it--stood forward before all, an unwontedapparition; and slowly, painfully raising his distorted form, he liftedhand and staff to heaven, and cried: "Wo, wo, wo to the Blessed Valley!The peace of David, our father, is broken. Blood has flowed in strife.That cometh which he foresaw, and over which he wept. Wo! wo! wo!"
Pabo, the Priest: A Novel Page 5