Quentin Durward

by Walter Scott

  CHAPTER II: THE WANDERER

  Why then the world's mine oyster, which I with sword will open.

  ANCIENT PISTOL

  It was upon a delicious summer morning, before the sun had assumed itsscorching power, and while the dews yet cooled and perfumed the air,that a youth, coming from the northeastward approached the ford of asmall river, or rather a large brook, tributary to the Cher, near to theroyal Castle of Plessis les Tours, whose dark and multiplied battlementsrose in the background over the extensive forest with which they weresurrounded. These woodlands comprised a noble chase, or royal park,fenced by an enclosure, termed, in the Latin of the middle ages,Plexitium, which gives the name of Plessis to so many villages inFrance. The castle and village of which we particularly speak, wascalled Plessis les Tours, to distinguish it from others, and was builtabout two miles to the southward of the fair town of that name, thecapital of ancient Touraine, whose rich plain has been termed the Gardenof France.

  On the bank of the above mentioned brook, opposite to that which thetraveller was approaching, two men, who appeared in deep conversation,seemed, from time to time, to watch his motions; for, as their stationwas much more elevated, they could remark him at considerable distance.

  The age of the young traveller might be about nineteen, or betwixt thatand twenty; and his face and person, which were very prepossessing, didnot, however, belong to the country in which he was now a sojourner. Hisshort gray cloak and hose were rather of Flemish than of French fashion,while the smart blue bonnet, with a single sprig of holly and an eagle'sfeather, was already recognized as the Scottish head gear. His dresswas very neat, and arranged with the precision of a youth conscious ofpossessing a fine person. He had at his back a satchel, which seemed tocontain a few necessaries, a hawking gauntlet on his left hand, thoughhe carried no bird, and in his right a stout hunter's pole. Over hisleft shoulder hung an embroidered scarf which sustained a small pouch ofscarlet velvet, such as was then used by fowlers of distinction to carrytheir hawks' food, and other matters belonging to that much admiredsport. This was crossed by another shoulder belt, to which was hung ahunting knife, or couteau de chasse. Instead of the boots of the period,he wore buskins of half dressed deer's skin.

  Although his form had not yet attained its full strength, he was talland active, and the lightness of the step with which he advanced, showedthat his pedestrian mode of travelling was pleasure rather than pain tohim. His complexion was fair, in spite of a general shade of darkerhue, with which the foreign sun, or perhaps constant exposure to theatmosphere in his own country, had, in some degree, embrowned it.

  His features, without being quite regular, were frank, open, andpleasing. A half smile, which seemed to arise from a happy exuberance ofanimal spirits, showed now and then that his teeth were well set, and aspure as ivory; whilst his bright blue eye, with a corresponding gaiety,had an appropriate glance for every object which it encountered,expressing good humour, lightness of heart, and determined resolution.

  He received and returned the salutation of the few travellers whofrequented the road in those dangerous times with the action whichsuited each. The strolling spearman, half soldier, half brigand,measured the youth with his eye, as if balancing the prospect of bootywith the chance of desperate resistance; and read such indications ofthe latter in the fearless glance of the passenger, that he changed hisruffian purpose for a surly "Good morrow, comrade," which the youngScot answered with as martial, though a less sullen tone. The wanderingpilgrim, or the begging friar, answered his reverent greeting witha paternal benedicite [equivalent to the English expression, "Blessyou."]; and the dark eyed peasant girl looked after him for many astep after they had passed each other, and interchanged a laughing goodmorrow. In short, there was an attraction about his whole appearance noteasily escaping attention, and which was derived from the combination offearless frankness and good humour, with sprightly looks and a handsomeface and person. It seemed, too, as if his whole demeanour bespoke onewho was entering on life with no apprehension of the evils with whichit is beset, and small means for struggling with its hardships, except alively spirit and a courageous disposition; and it is with such tempersthat youth most readily sympathizes, and for whom chiefly age andexperience feel affectionate and pitying interest.

  The youth whom we have described had been long visible to the twopersons who loitered on the opposite side of the small river whichdivided him from the park and the castle; but as he descended the ruggedbank to the water's edge, with the light step of a roe which visits thefountain, the younger of the two said to the other, "It is our man--itis the Bohemian! If he attempts to cross the ford, he is a lost man--thewater is up, and the ford impassable."

  "Let him make that discovery himself, gossip [an intimate friend orcompanion (obsolete)]," said the elder personage; "it may, perchance,save a rope and break a proverb [refers to the old saw, 'Who is born tobe hanged will never be drowned.']."

  "I judge him by the blue cap," said the other, "for I cannot see hisface. Hark, sir; he hallooes to know whether the water be deep."

  "Nothing like experience in this world," answered the other, "let himtry."

  The young man, in the meanwhile, receiving no hint to the contrary, andtaking the silence of those to whom he applied as an encouragement toproceed, entered the stream without farther hesitation than the delaynecessary to take off his buskins. The elder person, at the same moment,hallooed to him to beware, adding, in a lower tone, to his companion,"Mortdieu--gossip--you have made another mistake--this is not theBohemian chatterer."

  But the intimation to the youth came too late. He either did not hearor could not profit by it, being already in the deep stream. To one lessalert and practised in the exercise of swimming, death had been certain,for the brook was both deep and strong.

  "By Saint Anne! but he is a proper youth," said the elder man. "Run,gossip, and help your blunder, by giving him aid, if thou canst. Hebelongs to thine own troop--if old saws speak truth, water will notdrown him."

  Indeed, the young traveller swam so strongly, and buffeted the waves sowell, that, notwithstanding the strength of the current, he was carriedbut a little way down from the ordinary landing place.

  By this time the younger of the two strangers was hurrying down to theshore to render assistance, while the other followed him at a graverpace, saying to himself as he approached, "I knew water would neverdrown that young fellow.--By my halidome [originally something regardedas sacred, as a relic; formerly much used in solemn oaths], he isashore, and grasps his pole!--If I make not the more haste, he will beatmy gossip for the only charitable action which I ever saw him perform,or attempt to perform, in the whole course of his life."

  There was some reason to augur such a conclusion of the adventure,for the bonny Scot had already accosted the younger Samaritan, who washastening to his assistance, with these ireful words: "Discourteous dog!why did you not answer when I called to know if the passage was fitto be attempted? May the foul fiend catch me, but I will teach you therespect due to strangers on the next occasion."

  This was accompanied with that significant flourish with his pole whichis called le moulinet, because the artist, holding it in the middle,brandishes the two ends in every direction like the sails of a windmillin motion. His opponent, seeing himself thus menaced, laid hand upon hissword, for he was one of those who on all occasions are more ready foraction than for speech; but his more considerate comrade, who came up,commanded him to forbear, and, turning to the young man, accused himin turn of precipitation in plunging into the swollen ford, and ofintemperate violence in quarrelling with a man who was hastening to hisassistance.

  The young man, on hearing himself thus reproved by a man of advanced ageand respectable appearance, immediately lowered his weapon, and saidhe would be sorry if he had done them injustice; but, in reality, itappeared to him as if they had suffered him to put his life in perilfor want of a word of timely warning, which could be the part neitherof honest men nor of good
Christians, far less of respectable burgesses,such as they seemed to be.

  "Fair son," said the elder person, "you seem, from your accent andcomplexion, a stranger; and you should recollect your dialect is not soeasily comprehended by us; as perhaps it may be uttered by you."

  "Well, father," answered the youth, "I do not care much about theducking I have had, and I will readily forgive your being partly thecause, provided you will direct me to some place where I can have myclothes dried; for it is my only suit, and I must keep it somewhatdecent."

  "For whom do you take us, fair son?" said the elder stranger, in answerto this question.

  "For substantial burgesses, unquestionably," said the youth; "or--hold;you, master, may be a money broker, or a corn merchant; and this man abutcher, or grazier."

  "You have hit our capacities rarely," said the elder, smiling. "Mybusiness is indeed to trade in as much money as I can and my gossip'sdealings are somewhat of kin to the butcher's. As to your accommodationwe will try to serve you; but I must first know who you are, and whitheryou are going, for, in these times, the roads are filled with travellerson foot and horseback, who have anything in their head but honesty andthe fear of God."

  The young man cast another keen and penetrating glance on him who spoke,and on his silent companion, as if doubtful whether they, on their part,merited the confidence they demanded; and the result of his observationwas as follows.

  The eldest and most remarkable of these men in dress and appearance,resembled the merchant or shopkeeper of the period. His jerkin, hose,and cloak were of a dark uniform colour, but worn so threadbare that theacute young Scot conceived that the wearer must be either very rich orvery poor, probably the former. The fashion of the dress was close andshort, a kind of garment which was not then held decorous among gentry,or even the superior class of citizens, who generally wore loose gownswhich descended below the middle of the leg.

  The expression of this man's countenance was partly attractive andpartly forbidding. His strong features, sunk cheeks, and hollow eyeshad, nevertheless, an expression of shrewdness and humour congenial tothe character of the young adventurer. But then, those same sunken eyes,from under the shroud of thick black eyebrows, had something in themthat was at once commanding and sinister. Perhaps this effect wasincreased by the low fur cap, much depressed on the forehead, and addingto the shade from under which those eyes peered out; but it is certainthat the young stranger had some difficulty to reconcile his lookswith the meanness of his appearance in other respects. His cap, inparticular, in which all men of any quality displayed either a brooch ofgold or of silver, was ornamented with a paltry image of the Virgin, inlead, such as the poorer sort of pilgrims bring from Loretto [a cityin Italy, containing the sanctuary of the Virgin Mary called the SantaCasa, reputed to have been brought there by angels.].

  His comrade was a stout formed, middle sized man, more than ten yearsyounger than his companion, with a down looking visage and a veryominous smile, when by chance he gave way to that impulse, which wasnever, except in reply to certain secret signs that seemed to passbetween him and the elder stranger. This man was armed with a sword anddagger; and underneath his plain habit the Scotsman observed that heconcealed a jazeran, or flexible shirt of linked mail, which, as beingoften worn by those, even of peaceful professions, who were called uponat that perilous period to be frequently abroad, confirmed the young manin his conjecture that the wearer was by profession a butcher, grazier,or something of that description, called upon to be much abroad.The young stranger, comprehending in one glance the result of theobservation which has taken us some time to express, answered, after amoment's pause, "I am ignorant whom I may have the honour to address,"making a slight reverence at the same time, "but I am indifferent whoknows that I am a cadet of Scotland; and that I come to seek my fortunein France, or elsewhere, after the custom of my countrymen."

  "Pasques dieu! and a gallant custom it is," said the elder stranger."You seem a fine young springald, and at the right age to prosper,whether among men or women. What say you? I am a merchant, and want alad to assist in my traffic; I suppose you are too much a gentleman toassist in such mechanical drudgery?"

  "Fair sir," said the youth, "if your offer be seriously made--of whichI have my doubts--I am bound to thank you for it, and I thank youaccordingly; but I fear I should be altogether unfit for your service."

  "What!" said the senior, "I warrant thou knowest better how to drawthe bow, than how to draw a bill of charges--canst handle a broadswordbetter than a pen--ha!"

  "I am, master," answered the young Scot, "a braeman, and therefore, aswe say, a bowman. But besides that, I have been in a convent, where thegood fathers taught me to read and write, and even to cipher."

  "Pasques dieu! that is too magnificent," said the merchant. "By our Ladyof Embrun [a town in France containing a cathedral in which was a woodenstatue of the Virgin Mary, said to have been sculptured by St. Luke],thou art a prodigy, man!"

  "Rest you merry, fair master," said the youth, who was not much pleasedwith his new acquaintance's jocularity, "I must go dry myself, insteadof standing dripping here, answering questions."

  The merchant only laughed louder as he spoke, and answered, "Pasquesdieu! the proverb never fails--fier comme un Ecossois [proud or haughtyas a Scotchman]--but come, youngster, you are of a country I have aregard for, having traded in Scotland in my time--an honest poor setof folks they are; and, if you will come with us to the village, I willbestow on you a cup of burnt sack and a warm breakfast, to atone foryour drenching.--But tete bleau! what do you with a hunting glove onyour hand? Know you not there is no hawking permitted in a royal chase?"

  "I was taught that lesson," answered the youth, "by a rascally foresterof the Duke of Burgundy. I did but fly the falcon I had brought with mefrom Scotland, and that I reckoned on for bringing me into some note, ata heron near Peronne, and the rascally schelm [rogue, rascal (obsoleteor Scotch)] shot my bird with an arrow."

  "What did you do?" said the merchant.

  "Beat him," said the youngster, brandishing his staff, "as near to deathas one Christian man should belabour another--I wanted not to have hisblood to answer for."

  "Know you," said the burgess, "that had you fallen into the Duke ofBurgundy's hands, he would have hung you up like a chestnut?"

  "Ay, I am told he is as prompt as the King of France for that sortof work. But, as this happened near Peronne, I made a leap over thefrontiers, and laughed at him. If he had not been so hasty, I might,perhaps, have taken service with him."

  "He will have a heavy miss of such a paladin as you are, if the truceshould break off," said the merchant, and threw a look at his owncompanion, who answered him with one of the downcast lowering smileswhich gleamed along his countenance, enlivening it as a passing meteorenlivens a winter sky.

  The young Scot suddenly stopped, pulled his bonnet over his righteyebrow, as one that would not be ridiculed, and said firmly, "Mymasters, and especially you, sir, the elder, and who should be thewiser, you will find, I presume, no sound or safe jesting at my expense.I do not altogether like the tone of your conversation. I can take ajest with any man, and a rebuke, too, from my elder, and say thank you,sir, if I know it to be deserved; but I do not like being borne inhand as if I were a child, when, God wot, I find myself man enough tobelabour you both, if you provoke me too far."

  The eldest man seemed like to choke with laughter at the lad'sdemeanour--his companion's hand stole to his sword hilt, which the youthobserving, dealt him a blow across the wrist, which made him incapableof grasping it, while his companion's mirth was only increased by theincident.

  "Hold, hold," he cried, "most doughty Scot, even for thine owndear country's sake, and you, gossip, forbear your menacing look.Pasques-dieu! let us be just traders, and set off the wetting againstthe knock on the wrist, which was given with so much grace andalacrity.--And hark ye, my young friend," he said to the young man, witha grave sternness which, in spite of all the youth could do, dampedand overawed h
im, "no more violence. I am no fit object for it, and mygossip, as you may see, has had enough of it. Let me know your name."

  "I can answer a civil question civilly," said the youth; "and willpay fitting respect to your age, if you do not urge my patience withmockery. Since I have been here in France and Flanders, men have calledme, in their fantasy, the Varlet with the Velvet Pouch, because of thishawk purse which I carry by my side; but my true name, when at home, isQuentin Durward."

  "Durward!" said the querist; "is it a gentleman's name?"

  "By fifteen descents in our family," said the young man; "and that makesme reluctant to follow any other trade than arms."

  "A true Scot! Plenty of blood, plenty of pride, and right great scarcityof ducats, I warrant thee.--Well, gossip," he said to his companion,"go before us, and tell them to have some breakfast ready yonder at theMulberry grove; for this youth will do as much honour to it as a starvedmouse to a housewife's cheese. And for the Bohemian--hark in thy ear."

  His comrade answered by a gloomy but intelligent smile, and set forwardat a round pace, while the elder man continued, addressing youngDurward, "You and I will walk leisurely forward together, and we maytake a mass at Saint Hubert's Chapel in our way through the forest; forit is not good to think of our fleshly before our spiritual wants."

  [This silvan saint... was passionately fond of the chase, and used toneglect attendance on divine worship for this amusement. While he wasonce engaged in this pastime, a stag appeared before him, having acrucifix bound betwixt his horns, and he heard a voice which menacedhim with eternal punishment if he did not repent of his sins. He retiredfrom the world and took orders... Hubert afterwards became Bishop ofMaestrecht and Liege. S.]

  Durward, as a good Catholic, had nothing to object against thisproposal, although he might probably have been desirous, in the firstplace; to have dried his clothes and refreshed himself. Meanwhile, theysoon lost sight of their downward looking companion, but continued tofollow the same path which he had taken, until it led them into a woodof tall trees, mixed with thickets and brushwood, traversed by longavenues, through which were seen, as through a vista, the deertrotting in little herds with a degree of security which argued theirconsciousness of being completely protected.

  "You asked me if I were a good bowman," said the young Scot. "Give mea bow and a brace of shafts, and you shall have a piece of venison in amoment."

  "Pasques dieu! my young friend," said his companion, "take care of that;my gossip yonder hath a special eye to the deer; they are under hischarge, and he is a strict keeper."

  "He hath more the air of a butcher than of a gay forester," answeredDurward. "I cannot think yon hang dog look of his belongs to any one whoknows the gentle rules of woodcraft."

  "Ah, my young friend," answered his companion, "my gossip hathsomewhat an ugly favour to look upon at the first; but those who becomeacquainted with him never are known to complain of him."

  Quentin Durward found something singularly and disagreeably significantin the tone with which this was spoken; and, looking suddenly at thespeaker, thought he saw in his countenance, in the slight smile thatcurled his upper lip, and the accompanying twinkle of his keen dark eye,something to justify his unpleasing surprise. "I have heard of robbers,"he thought to himself, "and of wily cheats and cutthroats--what ifyonder fellow be a murderer, and this old rascal his decoy duck! I willbe on my guard--they will get little by me but good Scottish knocks."

  While he was thus reflecting, they came to a glade, where the largeforest trees were more widely separated from each other, and where theground beneath, cleared of underwood and bushes, was clothed with acarpet of the softest and most lovely verdure, which, screened from thescorching heat of the sun, was here more beautifully tender than itis usually to be seen in France. The trees in this secluded spot werechiefly beeches and elms of huge magnitude, which rose like great hillsof leaves into the air. Amidst these magnificent sons of the earth therepeeped out, in the most open spot of the glade, a lowly chapel, nearwhich trickled a small rivulet. Its architecture was of the rudest andmost simple kind; and there was a very small lodge beside it, for theaccommodation of a hermit or solitary priest, who remained there forregularly discharging the duty of the altar. In a small niche over thearched doorway stood a stone image of Saint Hubert, with the bugle hornaround his neck, and a leash of greyhounds at his feet. The situation ofthe chapel in the midst of a park or chase, so richly stocked with game,made the dedication to the Sainted Huntsman peculiarly appropriate.

  Towards this little devotional structure the old man directed his steps,followed by young Durward; and, as they approached, the priest, dressedin his sacerdotal garments, made his appearance in the act of proceedingfrom his cell to the chapel, for the discharge, doubtless, of his holyoffice. Durward bowed his body reverently to the priest, as the respectdue to his sacred office demanded; whilst his companion, with anappearance of still more deep devotion, kneeled on one knee to receivethe holy man's blessing, and then followed him into church, with a stepand manner expressive of the most heartfelt contrition and humility.

  The inside of the chapel was adorned in a manner adapted to theoccupation of the patron saint while on earth. The richest furs of suchanimals as are made the objects of the chase in different countriessupplied the place of tapestry and hangings around the altar andelsewhere, and the characteristic emblazonments of bugles, bows,quivers, and other emblems of hunting, surrounded the walls, and weremingled with the heads of deer, wolves, and other animals consideredbeasts of sport. The whole adornments took an appropriate and silvancharacter; and the mass itself, being considerably shortened, proved tobe of that sort which is called a hunting mass, because in use beforethe noble and powerful, who, while assisting at the solemnity, areusually impatient to commence their favourite sport.

  Yet, during this brief ceremony, Durward's companion seemed to pay themost rigid and scrupulous attention; while Durward, not quite so muchoccupied with religious thoughts, could not forbear blaming himselfin his own mind for having entertained suspicions derogatory to thecharacter of so good and so humble a man. Far from now holding him asa companion and accomplice of robbers, he had much to do to forbearregarding him as a saint-like personage.

  When mass was ended, they retired together from the chapel, and theelder said to his young comrade, "It is but a short walk from henceto the village--you may now break your fast with an unprejudicedconscience--follow me."

  Turning to the right, and proceeding along a path which seemed graduallyto ascend, he recommended to his companion by no means to quit thetrack, but, on the contrary, to keep the middle of it as nearly as hecould. Durward could not help asking the cause of this precaution.

  "You are now near the Court, young man," answered his guide; "and,Pasques-dieu! there is some difference betwixt walking in this regionand on your own heathy hills. Every yard of this ground, exceptingthe path which we now occupy, is rendered dangerous, and well nighimpracticable, by snares and traps, armed with scythe blades, whichshred off the unwary passenger's limb as sheerly as a hedge bill lops ahawthorn sprig--and calthrops that would pierce your foot through,and pitfalls deep enough to bury you in them for ever; for you are nowwithin the precincts of the royal demesne, and we shall presently seethe front of the Chateau."

  "Were I the King of France," said the young man, "I would not take somuch trouble with traps and gins, but would try instead to govern sowell that no man should dare to come near my dwelling with a bad intent;and for those who came there in peace and goodwill, why, the more ofthem the merrier we should be."

  His companion looked round affecting an alarmed gaze, and said, "Hush,hush, Sir Varlet with the Velvet Pouch! for I forgot to tell you, thatone great danger of these precincts is, that the very leaves of thetrees are like so many ears, which carry all which is spoken to theKing's own cabinet."

  "I care little for that," answered Quentin Durward; "I bear a Scottishtongue in my head, bold enough to speak my mind to King Louis's face,God bless h
im--and for the ears you talk of, if I could see them growingon a human head, I would crop them out of it with my wood knife."