A Monk of Fife

by Various

  CHAPTER XI--HOW MADAME CATHERINE OF FIERBOIS WROUGHT A MIRACLE FOR ASCOT, AND HOW NORMAN RODE TO THE WARS

  Now, in this place I cannot withhold me from telling of an adventurewhich at this very time befell, though it scarce belongs to my presentchronicle. But it may be that, in time to come, faith will wax cold, andthe very saints be misdoubted of men. It therefore behoves me not tohold back the truth which I know, and which this tale makes plain andundeniable even by Hussites, Lollards, and other miscreants. For he whoreads must be constrained to own that there is no strait so terrible butthe saints can bring safely forth therefrom such men as call upon them.

  There came at this season to Chinon from Fierbois (where the Maid's swordwas found by miracle) a Scottish archer, not aforetime of our company,though now he took service with us. He was named Michael Hamilton, andwas a tall man and strong, grim of face, sudden in anger, heavy of hand,walked a little lame, and lacked one ear. That which follows he himselftold to us and to our chaplain, Father Urquhart, and I myself have readit in the Book of the Miracles of Madame St. Catherine of Fierbois. {22}

  You must know that Brittany, as at this time, held for the English, andMichael Hamilton had gone thither reiving and pillaging the country witha company of Scots men-at-arms. Hard by a place called Clisson they hadseized a deserted tower and held it for some days. It so fell out thatthey took a burgess of the country, who was playing the spy on theirquarters; him they put to the torture, and so learned that the Englishwere coming against them with a great company of men-at-arms and of thecountry folk, on that very night. They therefore delayed no longer thanto hang the spy from a sufficient bough of a tree, this Michael doingwhat was needful, and so were hurrying to horse, when, lo! the Englishwere upon them. Not having opportunity to reach the stables and mount,Michael Hamilton fled on foot, with what speed he might, but sorelyimpeded by the weight of his armour. The country folk, therefore, beinglight of foot, easily overtook him, and after slaying one and woundingmore, he was caught in a noose of rope thrown over him from behind. Now,even as he felt the noose tighten about his arms, he (though not commonlypious beyond the wont of men-at-arms) vowed in his heart to make apilgrimage to Fierbois, and to the shrine of Madame St. Catherine, if shewould but aid him. And, indeed, he was ever a worshipper of St.Catherine, she being the patroness of his own parish kirk, near Bothwell.None the less, he was overcome and bound, whereon he that had thrown thenoose, and was son of the spy whom Michael had hanged, vowed that hewould, with his own hands, hang Michael. No ransom would this mananttake, nor would he suffer Michael, as a gentleman of blood and birth, todie by the sword. So hanged Michael was; doubt not but it was done inthe best manner, and there he was left hanging.

  Now, that night of Maundy Thursday the cure of Clisson was in his chamberand was about to go to bed. But as he made ready for bed he heard, froma corner of the chamber, a clear voice saying, "Go forth and cut down theScots man-at-arms who was hanged, for he yet lives."

  The cure, thinking that he must be half asleep and dreaming, paid nomanner of regard to these commands. Thereon the voice, twice and thrice,spoke aloud, none save the cure being present, and said, "Go forth andcut down the Scots man-at-arms who was hanged, for he yet lives."

  It often so chances that men in religion are more hard of heart tobelieve than laymen and the simple. The cure, therefore, having made alldue search, and found none living who could have uttered that voice, wentnot forth himself, but at noon of Good Friday, his service being done, hesent his sexton, as one used not to fear the sight and company of deadmen. The sexton set out, whistling for joy of the slaying of the Scot,but when he came back he was running as fast as he might, and scarcecould speak for very fear. At the last they won from him that he hadgone to the tree where the dead Scot was hanging, and first had heard afaint rustle of the boughs. Not affrighted, the sexton drew out a knifeand slit one of Michael's bare toes, for they had stripped him beforethey hanged him. At the touch of the knife the blood came, and the footgave a kick, whereon the sexton hastened back with these tidings to thecure. The holy man, therefore, sending for such clergy as he couldmuster, went at their head, in all his robes canonical, to the wild wood,where they cut Michael down and rubbed his body and poured wine into histhroat, so that, at the end of half an hour, he sat up and said, "PayWaiter Hay the two testers that I owe him."

  Thereon most ran and hid themselves, as if from a spirit of the dead, butthe manant, he whose father Michael had hanged, made at him with a sword,and dealt him a great blow, cutting off his ear. But others who had notfled, and chiefly the cure, held the manant till his hands were bound,that he might not slay one so favoured of Madame St. Catherine. Not thatthey knew of Michael's vow, but it was plain to the cure that the man wasunder the protection of Heaven. Michael then, being kindly nursed in ahouse of a certain Abbess, was wellnigh recovered, and his vow whollyforgotten, when lo! he being alone, one invisible smote his cheek, sothat the room rang with the buffet, and a voice said to him, "Wilt thounever remember thy pilgrimage?" Moved, therefore, to repentance, hestole the cure's horse, and so, journeying by night till he reachedFrance, he accomplished his vows, and was now returned to Chinon. ThisMichael Hamilton was hanged, not very long afterwards, by command of theDuc d'Alencon, for plundering a church at Jargeau.

  The story I have thought it behoved me to tell in this place, because itshows how good and mild is Madame St. Catherine of Fierbois, also lestmemory of it be lost in Scotland, where it cannot but be of great comfortto all gentlemen of Michael's kin and of the name and house of Hamilton.Again, I tell it because I heard it at this very season of my waiting tobe recovered of my wound. Moreover, it is a tale of much edification tomen-at-arms, as proving how ready are the saints to befriend us, even byspeaking as it were with human voices to sinful men. Of this I myself,later, had good proof, as shall be told, wherefore I praise and thank theglorious virgin, Madame St. Catherine of Fierbois.

  This tale was the common talk in Chinon, which I heard very gladly,taking pleasure in the strangeness of it. And in the good fortune of theMaid I was yet more joyful, both for her own sake and for Elliot's, towhom she was so dear. But, for my own part, the leeches gave me littlecomfort, saying that I might in no manner set forth with the rest, forthat I could not endure to march on foot, but must die by the way.

  Poor comfort was this for me, who must linger in garrison while thefortune of France was on the cast of the dice, and my own fortune was tobe made now or never. So it chanced that one day I was loitering in thegateway, watching the soldiers, who were burnishing armour, sharpeningswords, and all as merry and busy as bees in spring. Then to me comes mymaster, with a glad countenance, and glad was I, for these eight days ornine I had no tidings of him, and knew not if Elliot had returned frompilgrimage. I rose to greet him, and he took my hand, bidding me be ofgood cheer, for that he had good tidings. But what his news might be hewould not tell me; I must come with him, he said, to his house.

  All about his door there was much concourse of people, and among them twoarchers led a great black charger, fairly caparisoned, and covered with arich silk hucque of colour cramoisie, adorned with lilies of silver. AsI marvelled who the rider might be, conceiving that he was some greatlord, the door of my master's house opened, and there, within, and plainto view, was Elliot embracing a young knight; and over his silver armourfell her yellow hair, covering gorget and rere-brace. Then my heartstood still, my lips opened but gave no cry, when, lo! the knight kissedher and came forth, all in shining armour, but unhelmeted. Then I sawthat this was no knight, but the Maid herself, boden in effeir of war,{23} and so changed from what she had been that she seemed a thingdivine. If St. Michael had stepped down from a church window, leavingthe dragon slain, he would have looked no otherwise than she, allgleaming with steel, and with grey eyes full of promise of victory: theholy sword girdled about her, and a little battle-axe hanging from hersaddle-girth. She sprang on her steed, from the mounting-stone besidethe door, and s
o, waving her hand, she cried farewell to Elliot, thatstood gazing after her with shining eyes. The people went after the Maidsome way, shouting Noel! and striving to kiss her stirrup, the archerslaughing, meanwhile, and bidding them yield way. And so we came, humblyenough, into the house, where, her father being present and laughing andthe door shut, Elliot threw her arms about me and wept and smiled on mybreast.

  "Ah, now I must lose you again," she said; whereat I was half glad thatshe prized me so; half sorry, for that I knew I might not go forth withthe host. This ill news I gave them both, we now sitting quietly in thegreat chamber.

  "Nay, thou shalt go," said Elliot. "Is it not so, father? For the Maidgave her promise ere she went to Poictiers, and now she is fulfilling it.For the gentle King has given her a household--pages, and a maitred'hotel, a good esquire, and these two gentlemen who rode with her fromVaucouleurs, and an almoner, Brother Jean Pasquerel, an Augustine, thatthe Maid's mother sent with us from Puy, for we found her there. And theMaid has appointed you to go with her, for that you took her part whenmen reviled her. And money she has craved from the King; and MessireAymar de Puiseux, that was your adversary, is to give you a good horse,for that you may not walk. And, above all, the Maid has declared to methat she will bring you back to us unscathed of sword, but, for herself,she shall be wounded by an arrow under Orleans, yet shall she not die,but be healed of that wound, and shall lead the King to his sacring atRheims. So now, verily, for you I have no fear, but my heart is sore forthe Maid's sake, and her wound."

  None the less, she made as if she would dance for joy, and I could havedone as much, not, indeed, that as then I put my faith in prophecies, butfor gladness that I was to take my fortune in the wars. So the hourspassed in great mirth and good cheer. Many things we spoke of, asconcerning the mother of the Maid--how wise she was, yet in a kind ofamazement, and not free from fear, wherefore she prayed constantly forher child.

  Moreover Elliot told me that the jackanapes was now hers of right, forthat the woman, its owner, had been at Puy, but without her man, and hadsold it to her, as to a good mistress, yet with tears at parting. Thisnews was none of the gladdest to me, for still I feared that tidings ofus might come to Brother Thomas. Howbeit, at last, with a light heart,though I was leaving Elliot, I went back to the castle. There Aymar dePuiseux, meeting me, made me the best countenance, and gave me a rightgood horse, that I named Capdorat after him, by his good will. And formy armour, which must needs be light, they gave me a maillet--a coat ofslender mail, which did not gall my old wound. So accoutred, I departednext day, in good company, to Blois, whence the Maid was to set forth toOrleans. Marvel it was to find the road so full of bestial--oxen, cows,sheep, and swine--all gathered, as if to some great market, for thevictualling of Orleans. But how they were to be got through the Englishlines into the city men knew not. For the English, by this time, hadgirdled the city all about with great bastilles, each joined to other bysunken ways dug in the earth, wherein were streets, and marts, andchambers with fires and chimneys, as I have written in my Latinchronicle. {24} There false Frenchmen came, as to a fair, selling andbuying, with store of food, wine, arms, and things of price, buying andselling in safety, for the cannon and couleuvrines in the town could nottouch them. But a word ran through the host how the Maid knew, byinspiration of the saints, that no man should sally forth from among theEnglish, but that we should all pass unharmed.

  Meantime the town of Blois was in great turmoil--the cattle lowing in thestreets, the churches full to the doors of men-at-arms, waiting theirturn to be shrived, for the Maid had ordained that all who followed hermust go clean of sin. And there was great wailing of light o' loves, andleaguer lasses that had followed the army, as is custom, for this customthe Maid did away, and drove these women forth, and whither they wanderedI know not. Moreover, she made proclamation that all dice, and tabliers,and instruments of gambling must be burned, and myself saw the great pileyet smoking in the public place, for this was to be a holy war. So welodged at Blois, where the Maid showed me the best countenance, speakingfavourable words of Elliot and me, and bidding me keep near her banner inbattle, which I needed no telling to make me resolve to do. So there,for that night, we rested.