fight him regardless of the fate of all who had crossedswords with him before. This, too, it was whispered, was a part of hissorcery—though perhaps really it was because the high-spirited Normannoblemen were no cowards, and would let no one assail their honor orseize their property if they could possibly help it.
The more Geoffrey thought of these things, and of the many kindnessesof Count Boni, and then as he saw in memory the sweet, tear-stainedface of little Isabeau, his singing became more and more melancholy,till at last he stopped altogether, and gave himself up to thinking. Heknew from the inn servants that the Count Hugo was expected there thenext day, and that the duel was fixed for the following morning justoutside the walls of Dives.
“Oh,” he thought, “if it only, only could in some way be prevented!”Now Count Boni himself would have been very indignant had he known thatanybody was thinking it should be prevented; for, just as Count Hugohad desired, he was very angry with his adversary, and had no wish toavoid the encounter. But that could not prevent Geoffrey from wishingit might be avoided for him.
Indeed, Geoffrey had learned many things. He had a quick intelligence,and was very observant, and many travelers came to the inn; so he wasby no means so ignorant of affairs as many little boys of his age. Hehad heard it said that the Norman nobles had long sought in vain forsome pretext to rid themselves of the wicked Hugo, who was a rich andpowerful lord and seemed to lead a life charmed against all attack, forhe had been many times openly assailed. As to his shameless dueling,since that was then within bounds of the law, they could do nothing. Sohow, thought Geoffrey sadly, how could he, a poor little peasant boy,hope to do anything where the great nobles seemed powerless!
But, by and by, he was aroused from his reverie by Monsieur Jean, whowished his help in the many preparations demanded of the inn folk bythe important guest of the morrow, this hateful Hugo who was comingto kill his dear Count Boni! Ugh! had it not been bad enough to haveto catch the chicken for his soup? How he wished it might stranglehim! And how poor Geoffrey hated himself now because he was compelledto assist in this and that arrangement for the entertainment of themurderous nobleman and his many followers. How he wished they were allat the bottom of the Red Sea!
But at last, after much labor, that disagreeable day wore to an endfor the little boy, though when he went to bed and tried to forgethis troubles, he dreamed all night of poor little Isabeau, and seemedto hear her piteous sobs and to see the hot tears streaming down herpretty pink cheeks.
Early the next morning the inn was astir, and busy with morepreparations for the expected guests. And, sure enough, just beforemidday, in through the rose-covered gateway galloped four outriders,wearing the crimson livery of Count Hugo, and insolently jingling theirbridle reins and clanking their great gilded spurs.
Shortly after their arrival the coach itself dashed into the middle ofthe courtyard with a great clatter of hoofs and wheels, followed by along train of mounted and liveried servants, and lackeys, and pages,and men-at-arms; for traveling in those days was none too safe withouta guard of spearmen and lancers. The coach was painted a bright yellowand richly gilded; on the panels of its doors the count’s crest andcoat of arms were blazoned in blue and crimson; and no sooner had itswheels stopped than the lackeys jumped from their horses and, runningto its side, flung open the doors, which they respectfully held back asstill others assisted the nobleman to alight.
Count Hugo was a heavily-built man of middle age, with cold, crueleyes, and mustachios of grisly gray; he was richly dressed in a greenvelvet suit with crimson satin facings and ruffles of the finest lace;his shoe buckles sparkled with diamonds. Geoffrey, who from a quietcorner was watching everything, involuntarily clenched his fists as hesaw the evil-omened sword, encased in an elaborately-wrought scabbard,poking hatefully out from under the tail of the count’s beautifulvelvet coat.
As Hugo, followed by his retinue, crossed the courtyard, there was agreat bowing and scraping from Monsieur Jean and all the inn servants;the peacocks spread their gorgeous tails and screamed at the tops oftheir voices; the pigeons puffed and pouted and strutted about; thecockatoo shrieked loudly and flourished his silver spoon; and therabbits ran away with their ears flat to their heads with fright, andhid under the cabbage leaves in the garden until the commotion of thecount’s arrival had somewhat subsided.
But at last the great man had been ushered into his rooms, where he hadbreakfasted on the most elaborate products of the cooks’ skill; whileon the spits in the great inn kitchen huge haunches of venison andbeef were turning and browning in front of the blazing fire, and thewhite-capped and aproned scullions were running about with big ladlesand spoons in their hands making ready the dinner for the large companyof guests.
Geoffrey had, at their bidding, done many errands, and last of all hadbrought up from the garden a great basket of vegetables. He had wished,as he tragically jerked them out of the ground and brandished them inthe air, that each separate carrot, leek and radish might stick inCount Hugo’s wicked throat, and stay there forever! Now at length tiredout, he sat down to rest on his bench under the plane-tree.
As he sat there, presently through the arched gateway there entereda man dressed in a frayed waistcoat of ragged satin, knee breechesof blue plush much the worse for wear, and leather leggings fromwhich half the buckles were gone. Slung around his neck by a gaygreen ribbon hung a viol, and in one hand he grasped a slender littlechain that held in leash a small monkey wearing a tiny red cap. Thismotley figure was one of the strolling jongleurs, half juggler,half troubadour, who flourished at that time in all parts of France,and managed to eke out a living from the pranks of their monkeys andthe practice of the “gay science,” as it was called; that is, by thesinging of songs which they themselves usually made up and set to music.
As this particular jongleur entered the courtyard, he spied Geoffrey,and strolling over to the bench amiably seated himself beside the boywith a friendly “Good morrow, my lad!”
“Good morrow, sir,” answered Geoffrey, rather absently.
The jongleur then caught sight of the coach drawn up by the inn wall.
“Ah,” he said, “small wonder none came forth to welcome us. Otherguests are ahead of me, I perceive.” And, as the monkey climbed uponhis knee, he added: “Had thou and I fared hither in yonder yellow cart,Pippo, we should have had the whole inn at our feet. And monsieur, thelandlord, would have been down on his knees humbly beseeching to knowwhen my Lord Pippo would be pleased to dine! Hey! Pippo! is’t not true?”
But Pippo, paying no attention to him, began mischievously to fingerthe strings of the viol with his little brown claws, and the jongleur,with a gay laugh, turning to Geoffrey, inquired:
“To whom does yonder gaud belong?”
“It is the coach of Count Hugo,” said Geoffrey; “he came to-day, andis to fight a duel with Count Boni, of Château Beauvias, to-morrowmorning.”
“So!” said the jongleur with a short whistle; “well, then, theircountships had better let no grass grow under their noble feet, for theking hath but just issued an edict forbidding all such dueling from nowon, henceforth and forever.”
“What, sir?” said Geoffrey, suddenly rousing up excitedly; “what isthat thou sayest?”
“Well, well, little man! thou seemest to take this matter somewhat toheart! I was merely mentioning the new edict of our blessed King LouisNinth, God save his soul, which forbids dueling! It seems our sovereignlord hath grown weary of the foolish practice whereby he hath lost somany noble subjects, and moreover, being a wise monarch, hath becomeconvinced that all disputes should be settled in the courts of law,which he hath been studying much since his return from Constantinople,where the law is held in high esteem—in short, he will have no more‘judicial duels’; and yesterday when I and Pippo were in Rouen, weheard the king’s heralds as they solemnly proclaimed the new edict tothe people.”
“Oh!” exclaimed Geoffrey delightedly, “thank the blessed saints, then,the duel can not be fought to-morrow!”
&n
bsp; “Hold, hold,” said the jongleur, “not so fast, my lad—”
“Nay,” cried Geoffrey, “but how dare they when the king forbids?” and,dragging the jongleur up by the hand, he added: “Come with me now andwe will seek the wicked Count Hugo, and tell him the news! Come!”
“Nay, nay,” the jongleur replied, “not I!”
“Why, is it not true?” demanded Geoffrey.
“True as gospel,” said the jongleur, “but thou art but a child; dostthou fancy two noble lords, bent on the sword play, would for onemoment be stayed by the word of a poor strolling jongleur? Nay, Ishould but receive a drubbing for my pains if I sought to inform thatcruel Hugo. I prefer, thank you, to keep my bones whole; especiallyas I could do no good. Moreover, let them spit each other, if they sodesire! I do not care, youngster, how many duels they fight!”
But when he looked down and saw the grief in Geoffrey’s eyes, hesoftened, and added: “But since thou seemest to care so much, littleone, I would risk the drubbing, by my faith, I would! if ’twere to anypurpose. But
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