A Monk of Fife

by Various

  CHAPTER XIX--HOW NORMAN LESLIE RODE AGAIN TO THE WARS

  Tidings of these parleys, and marches, and surrenders of cities came tous at Tours, the King sending letters to his good towns by messengers.One of these, the very Thomas Scott of whom I have before spoken, a manout of Rankelburn, in Ettrick Forest, brought a letter for me, which wasfrom Randal Rutherford.

  "Mess-John Urquhart writes for me, that am no clerk," said Randal, "and,to spare his pains, as he writes for the most of us, I say no more thanthis: come now, or come never, for the Maid will ride to see Paris inthree days, or four, let the King follow or not as he will."

  There was no more but a cross marked opposite the name of RandalRutherford, and the date of place and day, August the nineteenth, atCompiegne.

  My face fired, for I felt it, when I had read this, and I made no moreado, but, covenanting with Thomas Scott to be with him when he rode forthat dawn, I went home, put my harness in order, and hired a horse from himthat kept the hostelry of the "Hanging Sword," whither also I sent myharness, for that I would sleep there. This was all done in the lateevening, secretly, and, after supper, I broke the matter to my master andElliot. Her face changed to a dead white, and she sat silent, while mymaster took the word, saying, in our country speech, that "he who will toCupar, maun to Cupar," and therewith he turned, and walked out and aboutin the garden.

  We were alone, and now was the hardest of my work to do, to comfortElliot, when, in faith, I sorely needed comfort myself. But honour atonce and necessity called me to ride, being now fit to bear harness, andforeseeing no other chance to gain booty, or even, perchance, my spurs.Nor could I endure to be a malingerer. She sat there, very white, herlip quivering, but her eyes brave and steadfast.

  I kneeled beside her, and in my hands I took her little hand, that wascold as ice.

  "It is for the Maid, and for you, Elliot," I whispered; and she only benther head on my shoulder, but her cold hand gripped mine firmly.

  "She did say that you should come back unharmed of sword," whisperedElliot, looking for what comfort she might. "But, O my dear! you may betaken, and when shall I see you again? Oh! this life is the hardestthing for women, who must sit and tremble and pray at home. Sure nodanger of war is so terrible! Ah, must you really go?"

  Then she clung so closely about me, that it seemed as if I could neverescape out of her arms, and I felt as if my heart must break in twain.

  "How could I look men in the face, and how could I ever see the Maidagain, if I go not?" I said; and, loosening her grasp, she laid her handson my shoulders, and so gazed on me steadfastly, as if my picture couldbe fixed on the tablets of her brain.

  "On your chin is coming a little down, at last," she said, smilingfaintly, and then gave a sob, and her lips met mine, and our very soulsmet; but, even then, we heard my master's steps hobbling to the door, andshe gave a cry, and fled to her chamber. And this was ourleave-taking--brief, but I would not have had it long.

  "It is ill work parting, Heaven help us," said my master. "Faith, Iremember, as if it were to-day, how I set forth for Verneuil; a long timeI was gone, and came back a maimed man. But it is fortune of war! Thesaints have you in their keeping, my son, and chiefly St. Andrew. Comeback soon, and whole, and rich, for, meseems, if I lose one of you, I amto lose both."

  Therewith he embraced me, and I set forth to the hostel where I was tolie that night.

  Now, see how far lighter is life to men than to women, for, though I leftthe house with the heaviest heart of any man in Tours, often looking backat the candleshine in my lady's casement, yet, when I reached the"Hanging Sword," I found Thomas Scott sitting at his wine, and my heartand courage revived within me. He lacked nothing but one to listen, andsoon was telling tales of the war, and of the road, and of how this onehad taken a rich prisoner, and that one had got an arrow in his thigh,and of what chances there were to win Paris by an onslaught.

  "For in no other can we take it," said he, "save, indeed, by miracle. Forthey are richly provisioned, and our hope is that, if we can make abreach, there may be a stir of the common folk, who are well weary of theEnglish and the Burgundians."

  Now, with his talk of adventures, and with high hopes, I was so heartenedup, that, to my shame, my grief fell from me, and I went to my bed todream of trenches and escalades, glory and gain. But Elliot, I fear me,passed a weary night, and a sorry, whereas I had scarce laid my head onmy pillow, as it seemed, when I heard Thomas shouting to the grooms, andclatter of our horses' hoofs in the courtyard. So I leaped up, though itwas scarce daylight, and we rode northwards before the full coming of thedawn.

  Here I must needs write of a shameful thing, which I knew not then, or Iwould have ridden with a heavier heart, but I was told concerning thematter many years after, by Messire Enguerrand de Monstrelet, a verylearned knight, and deep in the counsels of the Duke of Burgundy.

  "You were all sold," he said to me, at Dijon, in the year of our Lordfourteen hundred and forty-seven--"you were all sold when you marchedagainst Paris town. For the Maid, with D'Alencon, rode from Compiegnetowards Paris, on the twenty-third of August, if I remember well"; andhere he turned about certain written parchments that lay by him. "Yea,on the twenty-third she left Compiegne, but on the twenty-eighth of thatmonth the Archbishop of Reims entered the town, and there he met theambassadors of the Good Duke of Burgundy. There he and they made acompact between them, binding your King and the Duke, that their truceshould last till Noel, but that the duke might use his men in the defenceof Paris against all that might make onfall. Now, the Archbishop and theKing knew well that the Maid was, in that hour, marching on Paris. Towhat purpose make a truce, and leave out of the peace the very pointwhere war should be? Manifestly the French King never meant to put forththe strength of his army in helping the Maid. There was to be trucebetween France and Burgundy, but none between England and the Maid."

  So Messire Enguerrand told me, a learned knight and a grave, and thus wasthe counsel of the saints defeated by the very King whom they sought toaid. But of this shameful treaty we men-at-arms knew nothing, and sohazarded our lives against loaded dice.