COUNT HUGO’S SWORD
HOW THE PEASANT BOY GEOFFREY BY HIS BRAVERY AND DEVOTION PREVENTED A DUEL OF GREAT NOBLES AND BECAME PAGE TO THE GOOD KING LOUIS
“Tee dee, deedle de de!” shrieked the cockatoo, from his perch high upin the gabled window of the old inn. “Tee de!” He was a pink and whitecockatoo, with a beautiful tuft on top of his head; one of his legs waschained to a carved wooden perch that projected from the window-sill,while with his free claw he carefully balanced a large silver spoon, ofantique pattern, from the contents of which he was very deliberatelydining. For he was no common bird. Monsieur Jean the landlord ofthis “Guillaume-le-Conquérant” inn, of the ancient town of Dives,being something of a bird fancier, had but lately bought him, and forfear he might fly away, was thus keeping him chained to the window ofmonsieur’s own apartment until he should grow used to his new home. Ashe now slowly picked from his spoon the last morsel, and swallowed itwith a great ruffling of feathers all the way down his throat, again heshrilled out in a high-pitched mimicking tone, “Tee deedle!” and thistime a little boy looked up quickly from the courtyard below.
The boy was seated on a bench under a plane-tree, and held in his handsa sheet of yellow parchment on which was written a musical score, whoselarge black notes he was trying to hum over.
“Fie, Cockie!” he cried, as he looked up, “dost thou not know ’tis awicked sin to mock me when I am learning the holy mass music?”
But Cockie only screwed his head to one side, shook his empty spoon,and peered down with an impudent stare, as with a sigh the little boyonce more applied himself to his task. In a few moments, however, hewas again interrupted, this time by a call from beyond the kitchen:
“Geoffrey! Geoffrey! come hither and help catch this fowl for the CountHugo’s soup to-morrow!”
After a hot chase, Geoffrey succeeded in catching the fat hen andhanding her over to the white-capped cook of the inn kitchen, and thenhe once more sat down and took up his parchment; for though a servingboy through the week, on Sunday he took his place with the littlechoristers of the Dives cathedral, and Father Anselm had allowed him totake the score home with him, so that he might practise in his leisuremoments.
But as he now tried to go over the black notes, there was a mournfulcadence to every tone, for Geoffrey was very unhappy. Usually he wasgay as a bird, and indeed sang very like one; but to-day he had aweight on his mind, as he sat there in the courtyard of the quaint oldinn.
It was long, long ago that Geoffrey lived—nearly six hundred years.The inn in which he served had been built in the Norman town of Divesnearly three centuries earlier by the great Duke of Normandy, Williamthe Conqueror, whose name, which in French (for Normandy is a part ofFrance) is Guillaume-le-Conquérant, the inn still bore in Geoffrey’stime as it bears to this day. The Duke William had built the housebecause he wished to have some safe and pleasant stopping place duringthe time he was overseeing the finishing and freighting of the fleet ofboats which lay near by in the river Dives, and in which he meant tosail to the conquest of England.
And so, with such illustrious beginning, the inn had become veryfamous among the nobles of Normandy, and grown larger and larger, till,in the days when Geoffrey lived, it was a very beautiful place indeed.The courtyard, which one entered through an arched gateway covered withguelder roses, was surrounded by ancient wooden buildings; their darkmossy beams were put together with white plaster, and their innumerablepicturesque peaks and gables and wooden galleries and winding stairwayswere richly overhung with masses of the most lovely vines; for roses,wistarias, clematis, and jasmines clambered everywhere. There were twogardens also; one for the kitchen, the other full of lilies and clovepinks and French daisies, and numberless sweet old-fashioned flowers;for Monsieur Jean, the innkeeper, had much taste and loved both flowersand birds. Indeed, besides several cockatoos, he always kept dozens ofpeacocks that trailed about the courtyard squawking and spreading theirgorgeous tails every time a new guest entered the gateway. There werefine pigeons, too, and rabbits and chickens, and no end of interestingthings.
Geoffrey thought it a charming place to live, and he did not in theleast mind the work he had to do; for all were kind to him, andmoreover, he was happy in being able to give some of his earnings tohis family at home, who were very poor. His father was a peasant livingon the estate of the young Count Boni, of Château Beauvais, and had itnot been for the kind-heartedness of this count, the poor peasant wouldhave had hard shift to keep his little children in bread; for in thosedays the country had been so wasted by wars that the peasant folk hadalmost nothing left on which to live. But the Count Boni had alwaysbeen most generous and considerate to the people on his estate, andespecially to Geoffrey’s father, who was honest, and intelligent abovehis class. The count it was who had secured for Geoffrey the place atthe inn, and it was he also who had spoken to the monks of Dives ofthe boy’s sweet voice, so that the good Fathers had become interested,and were taking much pains in teaching him music.
And now we come to the reason that Geoffrey was so unhappy as he satunder the plane-tree, vainly trying to practise his lesson; for he wasthinking all the while of a deadly peril that threatened this goodCount Boni, to whom he was deeply grateful for so many things, and whomhe truly loved next to his own father.
His knowledge of the count’s danger had come about in this way. It hadhappened that, the day before, Geoffrey had been sent to the ChâteauBeauvais, which was not far distant from Dives, to carry some rabbitswhich Monsieur Jean had promised to Isabeau, the little daughter ofthe count. When Geoffrey reached the château and inquired for thelittle Lady Isabeau, he had been sent into the garden, and there hefound her crying as if her heart would break! Now this grieved Geoffreyvery much indeed; as he quite worshiped the gracious little girl whoused often to visit their cottage when he lived at home, and who hadsometimes gaily carried him back with her for a day’s happy romp in thebeautiful château grounds.
When he asked her the reason of her tears, she had told him between hersobs:
“O, Geoffrey! my dear father, the count, is to fight a dreadful duelwith the wicked Count Hugo, who will surely kill him with his evilsword! I heard nurse Marie talking with the gardener, and they say hewill surely kill him! Oh! Oh! Oh!” and here poor little Isabeau fairlyshook with the violence of her sobbing.
Geoffrey tried as best he could to comfort her, but to no avail; shecould not be induced even to look at the rabbits she had so muchwanted; so at last he was obliged to set them down quietly, andsorrowfully take his leave, though not until he had questioned someof the château pages for more particulars of that which the littlegirl had told him. He thus learned that Count Boni had indeed beenchallenged to a duel by the old Count Hugo, who lived in a castlebeyond the city of Meaux.
Now in those days, when people got into disputes about things, evena bit of property, instead of settling the matter in courts of lawas we do, it was quite customary to fight a “judicial duel,” as itwas called; that is, the two men disputing appointed a meeting-placewhere they tried to wound each other, generally with swords, and theone who succeeded in disabling, or as sometimes happened, killing hisadversary, was adjudged the better man and the winner of his case.This was certainly a strange and cruel way of doing, but six hundredyears ago people did many strange and cruel things. Had young CountBoni merely engaged to fight an ordinary duel, that would have been badenough, though it would not perhaps have been a matter of such concern;for the count was brave and a good swordsman,—and, ah, well! one mustexpect a duel now and then.
But that which caused Isabeau, and Geoffrey, too, when he learned ofit, such grief, was that her father was to fight the Count Hugo; forthis nobleman was known to be most wicked and unscrupulous. It was hiscustom to pick an unjust quarrel with some noble whose lands he covetedand falsely claimed; then he would challenge his victim to a “judicialduel,�
�� which always resulted in the noble being slain, and his estatesbeing seized by Hugo. For no one had ever been able to stand againstthe wicked count, who fought not merely to wound, but to kill, and whohad the reputation of being the most skilful and merciless swordsmanin all France. Indeed, his cruel sword had slain so many noble lordsthat people declared it was bewitched; that Count Hugo, who had beena crusader, had obtained it from the heathen Saracens, who had forgedit under some evil spell. They insisted the more on the unholy powerof this sword, as Count Hugo himself seemed to regard it with greatsuperstition and always preferred it to any other weapon; though,indeed, many people even went further in their talk, and asserted alsothat the count had got his unhallowed skill from some heathen wizard,and that any sword would, in his hands, be certain to deal a fatalthrust.
And so it was that when he chose a victim for one of his duels, it wasconsidered equal to a death warrant; though he always took care to makethe nobles he challenged so angry that they would not listen to reason,and would
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