by Various
CHAPTER XV--HOW NORMAN LESLIE WAS ABSOLVED BY BROTHER THOMAS
Certain Scots that found me, weak and bleeding, by the riverside, weresent by the Maid, in hopes that I had saved Glasdale, whereas it was theaccursed cordelier I had won from the water. What they did with him Iknew not then, but me they laid on a litter, and so bore me to a boat,wherein they were ferrying our wounded men across to Orleans. The Maidherself, as she had foretold, returned by way of the bridge, that was allbright with moving torches, as our groaning company were rowed across theblack water to a quay. Thence I was carried in a litter to our lodgings,and so got to bed, a physician doing what he might for me. A noisy nightwe passed, for I verily believe that no man slept, but all, after serviceheld in the Church of St. Aignan, went revelling and drinking from houseto house, and singing through the streets, as folk saved from utterdestruction.
With daybreak fell a short silence; short or long, it seemed brief to me,who was now asleep at last, and I was rueful enough when a sound arousedme, and I found the Maid herself standing by my bedside, with one in theshadow behind her. The chamber was all darkling, lit only by a thread oflight that came through the closed shutters of wood, and fell on her paleface. She was clad in a light jaseran of mail, because of her wound, andwas plainly eager to be gone and about her business, that is, to meet theEnglish in open field.
"Leslie, my friend," she said, in her sweet voice, "there were many bravemen in the fight yesterday, but, in God's name, none did a braver deedthan thou! Nay, speak not," she said, as I opened my lips to thank her,"for the leech that tended thee last night forbids it, on peril of thyvery life. So I have brought thee here a sheet of fair paper, and a penand horn of ink, that thou, being a clerk, mayst write what thou hast tosay. Alas! such converse is not for me, who know not A from his brotherB. But the saints who helped thee have rewarded thee beyond allexpectation. Thou didst not save that unhappy Glacidas, whom God in Hismercy forgive! but thou hast taken a goodlier prize--this holy man, thathad been prisoner in the hands of the English."
Here she stood a little aside, and the thread of light shone on the fellface of Brother Thomas, lowering beneath his hood.
Then I would have spoken, leech or no leech, to denounce him, for theMaid had no memory of his face, and knew him not for the false friartaken at St. Loup. But she laid her mailed finger gently on my lips.
"Silence! Thou art my man-at-arms and must obey thy captain. Thisworthy friar hath been long in the holy company of the blessed Colette,and hath promised to bring me acquainted with that daughter of God. Ay,and he hath given to me, unworthy as I am, a kerchief which has touchedher wonder-working hands. Almost I believe that it will heal thee bymiracle, if the saints are pleased to grant it."
Herewith she drew a kerchief across my lips, and I began, being mosteager to instruct her innocence as to this accursed man--
"Lady--" but alas! no miracle was wrought for a sinner like me. HowbeitI am inclined to believe that the kerchief was no saintly thing, and hadnever come near the body of the blessed Colette, but rather was a giftfrom one of the cordelier's light-o'-loves. Assuredly it was stained redwith blood from my lungs ere I could utter two words.
The Maid stanched the blood, saying--
"Did I not bid thee to be silent? The saints forgive my lack of faith,whereby this blessed thing has failed to heal thee! And now I must begone, to face the English in the field, if they dare to meet us, which,methinks, they will not do, but rather withdraw as speedily as they may.So now I leave thee with this holy man to be thy nurse-tender, and thoucanst write to him concerning thy needs, for doubtless he is a clerk.Farewell!"
With that she was gone, and this was the last I saw of her for many aday.
Never have I known such a horror of fear as fell on me now, helpless anddumb, a sheep given over to the slaughter, in that dark chamber, whichwas wondrous lown, {26} alone with my deadly foe.
Never had any man more cause for dread, for I was weak, and to resist himwas death. I was speechless, and could utter no voice that the people inthe house might hear. As for mine enemy, he had always loathed andscorned me; he had a long account of vengeance to settle with me; andif--which was not to be thought of--he was minded to spare one that hadsaved his life, yet, for his own safety, he dared not. He had beguiledthe Maid with his false tongue, and his face, not seen by her in thetaking of St. Loup, she knew not. But he knew that I would disclose allthe truth so soon as the Maid returned, wherefore he was bound to destroyme, which he would assuredly do with every mockery, cruelty, and tortureof body and mind. Merely to think of him when he was absent was wont tomake my flesh creep, so entirely evil beyond the nature of sinful mankindwas this monster, and so set on working all kinds of mischief withgreediness. Whether he had suffered some grievous wrong in his youth,which he spent his life in avenging on all folk, or whether, as I deemlikely, he was the actual emissary of Satan, as the Maid was of thesaints, I know not, and, as I lay there, had no wits left to consider ofit. Only I knew that no more unavailing victim than I was ever soutterly in the power of a foe so deadly and terrible.
The Maid had gone, and all hope had gone with her. For a time thatseemed unending mine enemy neither spoke nor moved, standing still in thechink of light, a devil where an angel had been.
There was silence, and I heard the Maid's iron tread pass down thecreaking wooden stairs, and soon I heard the sound of singing birds, formy window looked out on the garden.
The steps ceased, and then there was a low grating laughter in the darkroom, as if the devil laughed.
Brother Thomas moved stealthily to the door, and thrust in the woodenbolt. Then he sat him heavily down on my bed, and put his fiend's faceclose to mine, his eyes stabbing into my eyes. But I bit my lip, andstared right back into his yellow wolf's eyes, that shone like flames ofthe pit with evil and cruel thoughts.
So I lay, with that yellow light on me; and strength came strangely tome, and I prayed that, since die I must, I might at least gladden himwith no sign of fear. When he found that he could not daunton me, helaughed again.
"Our chick of Pitcullo has picked up a spirit in the wars," he said; andturning his back on me, he leaned his face on his hand, and so satthinking.
The birds of May sang in the garden; there was a faint shining of silverand green, from the apple-boughs and buds without, in the little chamber;and the hooded back of the cordelier was before me on my bed, like theshape of Death beside the Sick Man, in a picture. Now I did not evenpray, I waited.
Doubtless he knew that no cruel thing which the devil could devise wasmore cruel than this suspense.
Then he turned about and faced me, grinning like a dog.
"These are good words," said he, "in that foolish old book they read tothe faithful in the churches, 'Vengeance is Mine, saith the Lord.' Ay,it is even too sweet a morsel for us poor Christian men, such as thelowly Brother Thomas of the Order of St. Francis. Nevertheless, I amminded to put my teeth in it"; and he bared his yellow dog's fangs at me,smiling like a hungry hound. "My sick brother," he went on, "both as onethat has some science of leech-craft and as thy ghostly counsellor, it ismy duty to warn thee that thou art now very near thine end. Nay, let mefeel thy pulse"; and seizing my left wrist, he grasped it lightly in hisiron fingers. "Now, ere I administer to thee thy due, as a Christianman, let me hear thy parting confession. But, alas! as the blessed Maidtoo truly warned thee, thou must not open thy poor lips in speech. Thereis death in a word! Write, then, write the story of thy sinful life,that I may give thee absolution."
So saying, he opened the shutter, and carefully set the paper and inkhornbefore me, putting the pen in my fingers.
"Now, write what I shall tell thee"; and here he so pressed and wrung mywrist that his fingers entered into my living flesh with a fiery pang. Iwrithed, but I did not cry.
"Write--"
"I, Norman Leslie of Pitcullo--" and, to escape that agony, I wrote as hebade me.
"--being now in the art
icle of death--"
And I wrote.
"--do attest on my hope of salvation--" And I wrote.
"--and do especially desire Madame Jeanne, La Pucelle, and all Frenchmenand Scots loyal to our Sovereign Lord the Dauphin, to accept my witness,that Brother Thomas, of the Order of St. Francis, called Noiroufle whileof the world, has been most falsely and treacherously accused by me--"
I wrote, but I wrote not his false words, putting my own in theirplace--"has been most truly and righteously accused by me--"
"--of divers deeds of black treason, and dealing with our enemies ofEngland, against our Lord the Dauphin, and the Maid, the Sister of theSaints, and of this I heartily repent me,--"
But I wrote, "All which I maintain--"
"--as may God pardon my sins, on the faith of a sinful and dying man."
"Now sign thy name, and that of thy worshipful cabbage-garden anddunghill in filthy Scotland." So I signed, "Norman Leslie, the younger,of Pitcullo," and added the place, Orleans, with the date of day and yearof our Lord, namely, May the eighth, fourteen hundred and twenty-nine.
"A very laudable confession," quoth Brother Thomas; "would that all thesinners whom I have absolved, as I am about to absolve thee, had cleansedand purged their sinful souls as freely. And now, my brother, read aloudto me this scroll; nay, methinks it is ill for thy health to speak orread. A sad matter is this, for, in faith, I have forgotten my clergymyself, and thou mayst have beguiled me by inditing other matter than Ihave put into thy lying mouth. Still, where the safety of a soul isconcerned, a few hours more or less of this vain, perishable life weighbut as dust in the balance."
Here he took from about his hairy neck a heavy Italian crucifix of blackwood, whereon was a figure of our Lord, wrought in white enamel, withgolden nails, and a golden crown of thorns.
"Now read," he whispered, heaving up the crucifix above me. And as helifted it, a bright blade, strong, narrow, and sharp, leaped out frombeneath the feet of our Lord, and glittered within an inch of my throat.An emblem of this false friar it was, the outside of whom was as that ofa holy man, while within he was a murdering sword.
"Read!" he whispered again, pricking my throat with the dagger's point.
Then I read aloud, and as I read I was half choked with my blood, and nowand then was stopped; but still he cried--
"Read, and if one word is wrong, thine absolution shall come all theswifter."
So I read, and, may I be forgiven if I sinned in deceiving one so vile! Iuttered not what I had written, but what he had bidden me to write.
"I, Norman Leslie of Pitcullo, being now in the article of death, doattest on my hope of salvation, and do especially desire Madame Jeanne,La Pucelle, and all Frenchmen and Scots loyal to our Sovereign Lord theDauphin, to accept my witness that Brother Thomas, of the Order of St.Francis, called Noiroufle while of the world, has been most falsely andtreacherously accused by me of divers deeds of black treason, and dealingwith our enemies of England, against our Lord the Dauphin, and the Maid,the Sister of the Saints, and of this I heartily repent me, as may Godpardon my sins, on the faith of a sinful and dying man. Signed, atOrleans, Norman Leslie, the younger, of Pitcullo, this eighth of May, inthe year of our Lord fourteen hundred and twenty-nine."
When I had ended, he took away his blasphemous dagger-point from mythroat.
"Very clerkly read," he spake, "and all runs smooth; methinks myself hadbeen no poor scribe, were I but a clerk. Hadst thou written othermatter, to betray my innocence, thou couldst not remember what I said,even word for word," he added gleefully. "Now I might strangle theeslowly"; and he set his fingers about my throat, I being too weak to domore than clutch at his hand, with a grasp like a babe's. "But thatleaves black finger-marks, another kind of witness than thine in myfavour. Or I might give thee the blade of this blessed crucifix; yetdagger wounds are like lips and have a voice, and blood cries from theground, says Holy Writ. Pardon my tardiness, my poor brother, but thisdemands deep thought, and holy offices must not be hurried unseemly." Hesat now with his back to me, his hand still on my throat, so deep inthought that he heard not, as did my sharpened ears, a door shut softly,and foot-falls echoing in the house below. If I could only cry aloud!but he would stifle me ere the cry reached my throat!
"This will serve," he said. "Thou wilt have died of thy malady, and Iwill go softly forth, and with hushed voice will tell how the brave youngScot passed quietly to the saints. Yet, after all, I know not. Thouhast been sent by Heaven to my aid; clearly thou art an instrument of Godto succour the unworthy Brother Thomas. Once and twice thou hast been aboat to carry me on my way, and to save my useful life. A third timethou mightst well be serviceable, not by thy will, alas! but by God's, mypoor brother"; and he mockingly caressed my face with his abhorred hand."Still, this must even serve, though I would fain find for thee a morebitter way to death"; and he gently and carefully drew the pillow frombeneath my head. "This leaves no marks and tells no tales, and permitsno dying cry."
He was looking at me, the pillow in his hands, his gesture that of atender nurse, when a light tap sounded on the door. He paused, then camea louder knock, one pushed, and knocked again.
"Open, in the name of the Dauphin!" came a voice I knew well, the voiceof D'Aulon.
"The rope of Judas strangle thee!" said Brother Thomas, dropping thepillow and turning to the casement. But it was heavily barred withstanchions of iron, as the manner is, and thereby he might not flee.
Then came fiercer knocking with a dagger hilt, and the cry, "Open, in thename of the Dauphin, or we burst the door!"
Brother Thomas hastily closed the wooden shutter, to darken the chamberas much as might be. "Gently, gently," he said. "Disturb not mypenitent, who is newly shrived, and about to pass"; and so speaking, hewithdrew the bolt.
D'Aulon strode in, dagger in hand, followed by the physician.
"What make you here with doors barred, false priest?" he said, laying hishand on the frock of Noiroufle.
"And what make you here, fair squire, with arms in a sick man's chamber,and loud words to disturb the dying? And wherefore callest thou me'false priest'? But an hour agone, the blessed Maid herself brought mehither, to comfort and absolve her follower, to tend him, if he livedand, if he must die, to give him his dues as a Christian man. And thedoor was bolted that the penitent might be private with his confessor,for he has a heavy weight to unburden his sinful soul withal."
"Ay, the Maid sent thee, not knowing who thou wert, the traitor friartaken at St. Loup, and thou hast a tongue that beguiled her simplicity.But one that knew thee saw thy wolfs face in her company, and told me,and I told the Maid, who sent me straightway back from the gate, thatjustice might be done on thee. Thou art he whom this Scot charged withtreason, and would have slain for a spy, some nights agone."
Brother Thomas cast up his eyes to heaven.
"Forgive us our trespasses," said he, "as we forgive them that trespassagainst us. Verily and indeed I am that poor friar who tends thewounded, and verify I am he against whom this young Scot, as, I fear, isthe manner of all his benighted people, brought a slanderous accusationfalsely. All the more reason was there that I should hear his lastconfession, and forgive him freely, as may I also be forgiven."
"Thou liest in thy throat," said D'Aulon. "This is a brave man-at-arms,and a loyal."
"Would that thou wert not beguiled, fair sir, for I have no pleasure inthe sin of any man. But, if thou wilt believe him rather than me, evenkeep thy belief, and read this written confession of his falsehood. Offree will, with his own hand, my penitent hereby absolves me from all hisslanders. As Holy Church enjoins, in the grace of repentance he alsomakes restitution of what he had stolen, namely, all my wealth in thisworld, the good name of a poor and lowly follower of the blessed Francis.Here is the scroll."
With these words, uttered in a voice of sorrowing and humble honesty, thefriar stretched out the written sheet of paper to D'Aulon.
"Had I been a false traitor," he
said, "would not her brethren of heavenhave warned the blessed Maid against me? And I have also a written safe-conduct from the holy sister Colette."
Then I knew that he had fallen into my trap, and, weak as I was, I couldhave laughed to think of his face, when the words I had written came outin place of the words he had bidden me write. For a clerk hath greatpower beyond the simple and unlettered of the world, be they as cunningeven as Brother Thomas.
"Nom Dieu! this is another story," said D'Aulon, turning the paper aboutin his hands and looking doubtfully at me. But I smiled upon him,whereby he was the more perplexed. "The ink is hardly dry, and in someplaces has run and puddled, so that, poor clerk as I am, I can makelittle of it"; and he pored on it in a perplexed sort. "Tush, it isbeyond my clerkhood," he said at last. "You, MessireSaint-Mesmin,"--turning to the physician--"must interpret this."
"Willingly, fair sir," said the physician, moving round to the shutter,which he opened, while the cordelier's eyes glittered, for now there wasone man less between him and the half-open door. I nodded to D'Aulonthat he should shut it, but he marked me not, being wholly in amaze atthe written scroll of my confession.
The physician himself was no great clerk, and he read the paper slowly,stumbling over the words, as it were, while Brother Thomas, clasping hiscrucifix to his breast, listened in triumph as he heard what he himselfhad bidden me write.
"I, Norman Leslie, of--of Peet--What name is this? Peet--I cannot utterit."
"Passez outre," quoth D'Aulon.
"I, Norman Leslie, being now in the article of death"--here the leechglanced at me, shaking his head mournfully--"do attest on my hope ofsalvation, and do especially desire Madame Jeanne La Pucelle, and allFrenchmen and Scots loyal to our Sovereign Lord the Dauphin, to accept mywitness that Brother Thomas, of the Order of St. Francis, calledNoiroufle while of the world, has been most truly and righteously accusedby me of divers deeds of black treason."
At these words the cordelier's hand leaped up from his breast, hiscrucifix dagger glittered bright, he tore his frock from D'Aulon's grip,leaving a rag of it in his hand, and smote, aiming at the squire wherethe gorget joins the vambrace. Though he missed by an inch, yet soterrible was the blow that D'Aulon reeled against the wall, while thebroken blade jingled on the stone floor. Then the frock of the friarwhisked through the open door of the chamber; we heard the stairs clearedin two leaps, and D'Aulon, recovering his feet, rushed after the falsepriest. But he was in heavy armour, the cordelier's bare legs weredoubtless the nimbler, and the physician, crossing himself, could onlygape and stare on the paper in his hand. As he gazed with his mouth openhis eyes fell on me, white as my sheets, that were dabbled with the bloodfrom my mouth.
"Nom Dieu!" he stammered, "Nom Dieu! here is business more to my mind andmy trade than chasing after mad cordeliers that stab with crucifixes!"
Then, coming to my side, he brought water, bathed my face, and did whathis art might do for a man in such deadly extremity as was mine. Inwhich care he was still busy when D'Aulon returned, panting, having senta dozen of townsfolk to hunt the friar, who had made good his flight overgarden walls, and was now skulking none knew where. D'Aulon would fainhave asked me concerning the mystery of the confession in which BrotherThomas had placed his hope so unhappily, but the physician forbade him toinquire, or me to answer, saying that it was more than my life was worth.But on D'Aulon's battered armour there was no deeper dint than that dealtby the murderous crucifix.
Thus this second time did Brother Thomas make his way out of our hands,the devil aiding him, as always; for it seemed that ropes could not bindor water drown him.
But, for my part, I lay long in another bout of sore fever, sick here atOrleans, where I was very kindly entreated by the people of the house,and notably by the daughter thereof, a fair maid and gentle. To her carethe Maid had commanded me when she left Orleans, the English refusingbattle, as later I heard, and withdrawing to Jargeau and Paris. But ofthe rejoicings in Orleans I knew little or nothing, and had no greatdesire for news, or meat, or drink, but only for sleep and peace, as isthe wont of sick men. Now as touches sickness and fever, I have writtenmore than sufficient, as Heaven knows I have had cause enow. A lucklesslife was mine, save for the love of Elliot; danger and wounds, and maladyand escape, where hope seemed lost, were and were yet to be my portion,since I sailed forth out of Eden-mouth. And so hard pressed of sicknesswas I, that not even my outwitting of Brother Thomas was a cause ofcomfort to me, though to this day I cannot think of it without somemirthful triumph.