The Serf

by Guy Thorne

  CHAPTER V

  The three trees of Monkshood Glade.

  How fresh the morning air was in the wood! A million yellow spearsflashed through the thick leaves and stabbed the undergrowth with gold.A delicious smell of leaves and forest beasts scented the cool breezes,and birds of all colours sang hymns to the sun.

  An early summer morning in a great wood! In all life there is nothing somysteriously delightful. Where the leaves of the oaks and elms andbeeches were so thick that they turned the spaces below into fragrantpurple dusk, what soft bright-eyed creatures might lie hid! In the hotopen glades brilliant little snakes lay shining, and green-bronzelizards, like toy dragons, slept in armour. The fat singing bees thatshouldered their way through the bracken wore broad gold bands roundtheir fur, and had thin vibrating wings of pearl. They were like jewelswith voices.

  Upon a piece of smooth grass sward, nibbled quite short by rabbits,which sloped down to a brook of brown and amber water, sat Lewin, theminter. His fine clear-cut face harmonised with all the beauty around,and he drank in the air as if it had been wine. There was a soft look inhis eyes as of a man dreaming of lovely things. His face is worth alittle scrutiny. The glorious masses of dark-red hair gave it anaureola, the long straight nose showed enormous force of character, butthe curve of the lips was delicate and refined, and seemed to oppose aweakness. There was something dreamy, treacherous, and artistic in hiscountenance.

  For an hour Lewin had come into the wood to forget his scheming andambitions and to be happy in the sunlight. He plucked blades of grassidly and threw them into the brook. Once he looked up, feeling thatsomething was watching him, and saw mild eyes regarding him from athicket. It was a young fawn which had come to drink in the brook, andsaw him with gentle surprise. He gave a hunting halloa, and immediatelythe wood all round was alive with noise and flying forms. Part of aherd of deer had been closing round his resting-place, and were leapingaway in wild terror at his shout.

  The forest became silent again, until he heard feet crackling on theleaves and twigs, and looking up saw a radiant vision approaching him. Atall, dark girl, lithe as a willow, was coming through the wood.

  Lewin sprang up from the little lawn and went down the path to meet her,holding out his hands.

  "Ah, Gundruda!" he said, "I have waited your coming. How fair you arethis beautiful morning!"

  "Go away," she said, with a flash of pearls. "That is what you say toevery girl."

  "Of course, Gundruda mine. I love all women; my heart is as large as anabbey."

  "Then your fine speeches lose all their value, minter. But I have amessage."

  He dropped his banter at once. "Yes! yes!" he said eagerly.

  "My lord goeth after a boar this afternoon with Sir Fulke, and my LadyAlice will be by the well in the orchard when they have gone."

  "Good," said he, "there will I be also. Are Richard and Brian goinghunting?"

  "No; they will be hard at work with all the theows and men-at-armsfortifying the castle. Oh, Lewin, there is such a to-do! Last night asever was, came a messenger to say Roger Bigot is coming to Hilgay tokill us all, and Christ help us! that is what I say."

  A shrill note of alarm had come into her voice, for she had seen warbefore, and knew something of the unbridled cruelty that walked withconquerors. At that he put his arm round her waist and drew her close tohim. They were a fine pair as they stood side by side in the wood. Lewincaptured one pretty hand in his--a little, white, firm hand that curledup comfortably in his clasp. Then he kissed her on her soft cheeks.

  "How beautiful you are," he said in a soft, dreamy voice, deep and rich.He strained her to him. "Oh, how strange and beautiful you are,Gundruda. I would that for ever you were in my arms. There is nothinglike you in the world, Gundruda. You are worth kingdoms. Oh, youbeautiful girl!"

  She abandoned herself to his caresses, with closed eyes and quickshuddering breaths of pleasure. Suddenly the mellow notes of a horn inall their proud sweetness came floating through the wood, and thisamorous business came to a sudden end.

  Geoffroi was starting out to the hunt.

  The two people in the wood went back to the castle by devious ways. Theyfound that Lord Geoffroi with a few attendants had already left thecastle and entered the forest.

  The castle-works were humming with activity. The weapon smiths wereforging and fitting arrow heads, and making quarels and bolts. Thecarpenters were building hoards, or wooden pent houses, which should berun out on the top of the curtains. The crenelets, which grinned betweenthe roof and the machicolade at the top of Outfangthef, were cleared ofall obstructions. A trebuchet for slinging stones--invented in Flanders,and very effective at short range--was being fitted together on the roofof the Barbican. Hammers were tapping, metal rang on metal, the sawsgroaned, and a great din of preparation pervaded everything.

  In one corner of the bailey a man was cutting lead into strips so thatit could be more easily made molten and poured upon besiegers. Inanother a group were hoisting pitch barrels on to the walls with apulley and tackle.

  In and out of the great gateway rough carts were rattling every moment,full of apples and wheat from the farmhouses round.

  A row of patient oxen were stabled in a pen, hastily knocked up withbeams of fir, in one corner of the bailey. In the field by the castleside, the swine shrieked horribly as a serf killed them relentlessly,and in the kitchens the women boiled, dried, and salted before glowingwood fires.

  Long before dawn, scouts on swift horses had been posting along theNorwich road, and messages had been sent to all the villeins proper tofulfil their pledge of service.

  Tongues wagged unceasing.

  "Come ye here, cripples, and give a hand to this beam."

  "Have you gotten your money safe, minter? The bastard son a letchethafter coined monies."

  "Aye, and after more things than coined monies. Gundruda, beauty, Rogerhath a fat Turkman privy to him, and going always in his train. He willmarry you to the black man!"

  "By the rood, then, I'd as soon wed him as you!"

  "Roger taketh with him always a crucet hus, my son."

  "And what is that, then, Father Anselm?"

  "Know you not the crucet hus? fight lustily, then, or you may know himtoo well. The crucet hus, that is a chest which is short and narrow andshallow. Roger putteth men therein, and putteth sharp stones upon him sothat all his limbs be brake thereby. My Lord Bigot loveth it. Also heuseth the 'Lao and grim.' 'Tis a neck bond, my lad, of which two orthree men had enough to bear one! It is so made that it is fastened to abeam. And Roger putteth a sharp iron round about the man's throat andhis neck, so that he cannot in any direction sit or lie or sleep, butmust bear all that iron."

  "God's teeth! Father! you have a merry way of comfort."

  "Truth is stern, Huber; fight then lustily, and get you shrivento-morrow."

  "That will I, Father."

  "And you, John and Denys, and Robert, all you soldiers. Come you to meere this fight, and pay Holy Church her due fee, and have safety foryour souls. An if you die then you will be saved men, and among themerry angels and my Lords the Saints, as good as they in heaven. An yougo not to battle with hearts purged of sin, the divell will have everymother's son of you. Alas, how miserable and rueful a time will be then!And you who are whilom in shining armour-mail, with wine to drink, andgirls to court for your pleasure, will lie in a portion of fire butseven foot long."

  Thus, Anselm, the hedge priest, passing from group to group in beeryexhortation.

  Who knows how it affected them?

  The heavenly sun still looks into the lowest valleys. The unclean handsof that false priest, unfaithful minister that he was, may have giventhe mass to a sick soul with great spiritual comfort. The bestial oldman may have absolved dark men, penitent of their sins, because theythemselves earnestly believed in his power.

  As he sat in the chapel during that day, the mysterious powers conferredon him from Saint Peter himself, in unbroken succession, may, indeed,have flowed
through him, giving grace.

  Lewin lounged about the courtyard listening to his exhortations withamusement, yet not without wonder at the strange psychic force whichmoved the minds of these rough men. The crafty, sensual sentimentalist,of course, had no illusions about the abstract, yet the idea alwaysfascinated him when it came. It was very grand and sonorous, he thought,this bondage to mystery, this ritual of the unseen. So lonely a man washe, immured in the impregnable fortress of his own brain, for there wasno mental equal for him at Hilgay, that for mere mind-food he gavehimself over to wild fancies. Our Lord upon the cross was more beautifulto him than to many devout believers, and he would have told you that hecould hear the going of God in the wind. Sometimes he half-wondered ifit were not true that Christ died.

  He went into his mint, deserted now, and sat him down upon a bench inhis little room. The sunshine cut its living way through the dust of thesilent empty place. A whip lay upon the floor, where it had been thrownby an overseer of the theows who worked in the mint. There were fliesupon it. He kicked the thing aside with disgust; it was a reminder ofthe stern terrible age in which he lived, and in which he felt so out ofplace. Depression began to flow over him in silent waves, until heremembered that he was to meet Lady Alice in the afternoon. That turnedthe current of his idle, discontented thoughts towards a more palpablething. His secret wooing of the Norman lady who was so proud andstately was very dear to him, and the romance of it pleased him evenmore than the mere material joys he hoped some day to gain from it.Proud as she was, womanlike she at least deigned to listen to him, andhis crafty brain schemed darkly to take opportunity as it came, and makeher his own by treachery. He went out again among the busy workmen, andbegan to direct some smiths who were rivetting a suit of brass armour,engraved with a curious pattern of beetles and snakes in arabesque,which required delicate handling.

  The weapon smiths were grumbling because they were short of hands forthe heavier parts of their labour. Five or six of the most reliableserfs could not be found anywhere. Some one had seen them going into theforest, and it was supposed that they were acting as beaters forGeoffroi. Every one grumbled at the Baron. It was thought that this wasno time for amusements. A boar would keep, herons would last till theworld's end, deer would get them young every year till the worldstopped. Every hour Roger Bigot came slowly nearer, and the men ofHilgay wanted the comfort of a master mind to direct and reassure themat a time like this.

  The two squires fussed and raved, and stormed till the sweat stood ingreat drops upon them, but they could not get half the work out of themen that Geoffroi, or even Fulke, were able to. They had no personalityand were ineffective, lacking that most potent and most powerful ofhuman things. But every one did his best, nevertheless, and by"noon-meat" work had distinctly advanced, and already the castle beganto wear something of an aspect of war.

  It is extraordinary how a building or a place can be transformed in ourminds by a few outward touches, combined with an attitude ofexpectation. If one has waited for a wedding in an almost empty church,the coming ceremony has an actual power of destroying the somewhatfunereal aspect of the place. A single vase of flowers upon the altarseems swollen to a whole tree of bloom, the footsteps of a melancholyold man unlocking the rusty door, or spreading the priest's robes forhim, is magnified into the beating of many feet. A crowd is created,expectant of a bride.

  In a country lane on a hot summer afternoon, on Sunday, we say that a"Sabbath peace" is over all the land. The wind in the trees seemswhispering litanies, and the soft voices of the wood-pigeons sound likepsalms, the woods are at orisons, and the fields at prayer. As eveningcomes gently on, the feeling becomes intensified, though there isnothing but the chance lin-lan-lone of a distant bell to help it. Theevening is not really more peaceful and gracious on the day of rest. Therooks wing home with mellow voices indeed, and the plover calls sweetlydown the wind for his mate, but these are ordinary sounds. You may hearthem on week days. The peace is in our own hearts, subjective and holy,informed by our own thoughts.

  In the very air of the castle there was a tremulous expectation of war.Lady Alice, in her chamber, far away from the tumult, knew it. LittleGertrude, in the orchard, felt in her blood that the day was notordinary; the very dogs sought wistfully to understand the excitementthat pervaded everything.

  At noon-meat, the jongleur, who had remained in the castle, blear-eyedand silent, got very drunk indeed. A madness of excitement got hold ofhim, and he sang war songs in a strident unnatural voice. The sternchoruses rang out in the sunshine, with a pitiful whining of the crowth.All the afternoon the men hummed fierce catches as they went about theirwork. The day was cloudless and very hot. About five o'clock, when thesun's rays began to strike the ground slantingly, and the world was fullof the curious relative sadness that comes with evening, the toilersknocked off for a rest. The pantler brought out horns of Welsh ale, andthey sat round the well discussing the great impending event, thestrength of the defences, the number of the enemy, the chances of thefight. The jongleur was lying insensible by the well-side, and a merryfool was bedabbling his shameless old face with pitch from a bucket,when the attention of every one in the castle was suddenly arrested bythe distant but quite unmistakable sound of a horn.

  A deep silence fell upon them all. Then they heard it again, no huntingmot or tuneful call of peace, but a long, keen, threatening note ofalarm!

  The thundering of a horse's feet growing ever nearer and nearer throbbedin the air. The sound seemed a great way off. Some one shouted somequick orders. The pins were pulled from the portcullis chains, so thatupon releasing a handle it would fall at once. That was all they coulddo for the moment. They heard that the horseman was coming on at a mostfurious gallop. The sound came from the great main drive of the forest.Quick conjectures flew about among them all.

  "Godis head! surely Roger is ten days away."

  "So the scouts have said. He moveth very slowly. Oswald saw it with hisown eyen."

  "We shall know before one should tell to twenty, listen!"

  The news-bringer, whoever he might be, was now close at hand, and withstartling effect he sent before him another keen vibratory note of hisinvisible horn. It seemed to come right up to the very castle gate, andto break in metallic sound at the feet of those standing near.

  In a moment more they saw him turn out from among the interlacing foresttrees, and come furiously down the turf towards them.

  "It's Kenulf, the forester," shouted two or three voices at once."Surely some one rides after him."

  The rider was now close upon them, and vainly trying to pull in hishorse. The animal was maddened by the goring of his spurs--long singlespikes in the fashion of that time--and would not stop. So, with ashrill shout of warning and an incredible echoing and thunder of noise,he galloped over the drawbridge, under the vaulted archway of the gatetower, and only pulled up when he was in the bailey itself, andconfronted with the great rock of the keep.

  For a moment he could not speak in his exhaustion, but by his white faceand haunted eyes they saw that he had some terrible news.

  There was a horn of beer propped up against the draw-well, which someone had set down at the distant noises of the forester's coming. Briande Burgh picked it up and gave it to the gasping fellow. Then hestammered out his news, striking them cold with amazement.

  "My Lord Geoffroi is dead, gentlemen," said he. "He has been murdered. Icame upon him standing by the three trees in Monkshood. He had an arrowright through his mouth, nailed to a tree was he, and the grass allsprent with him. Gentlemen, I came into the glade half-an-hour after Ihad seen my lord well and alive. He rode fiercely ahead of us after theboar, towards Monkshood. My lord loves to ride alone, and Sir Fulkefollowed but slowly, and set a peregryn at a heron on the way. But Ipressed on faster, so that an Lord Geoffroi killed the boar, and when hehad made the first cuts, I should do the rest. God help us all, and OurLady too! I did come into the glade half a mile away from where thethree trees stand. My eyen go far and they are
very keen. There was aman, I could see, standing still, but as I blew a call he went swiftlyinto the underwood. Then came I to the trees and saw my lord standingdead. Sir Fulke and the train came up soon after, and they are bringingIt home. Make you ready. Cwaeth he to me, that you were to make propermourning, to light the torches and say the Mass, and have many lightsupon the holy table. And so my lord shall the quicker find rest. Haste!haste! for soon they will be near, and there is scant of time withoutengreat haste. Take me to my lady, for I would tell her."

  "No," said a girl, who was standing by, very hastily, "I will prepareher first," and with that Gundruda, with a face full of wonder, slippedaway to the postern which led to the orchard.

  So this was how the first tidings of Hyla's vengeance came to thecastle.

  * * * * *

  Now the killing of Geoffroi de la Bourne happened in this way.

  As one might imagine, there was no sleep for the serfs on the nightbefore the attempt. From the time when they had stolen up the hill afterthe murder of Pierce to the coming of dawn was but short. They spent itround the dead fire among the noises of the night.

  A great exultation was born in the heart of each man. Hyla showed themhis blood-stained hands, with vulgar merriment at the sight, rejoicingin the deed. They were all animated with the lust of slaughter. Wildhopes began to slide in and out of their minds. One could hardly expectanything fine--in externals--from these rough boorish men. Althoughtheir purpose was noble, and the feelings that animated them had muchthat owed its existence to a love for their fellows, a protest ofessential human nature against oppression and foul wrongs, yet theirtalk was coarse and brutal about it all. This must be chronicled inorder to present a proper explanation of them, but if it is understoodit will be forgiven. No doubt the canons of romance would call foranother kind of picture. The men would keep vigil, full of loftythoughts, high words, and prayers to God. They would have spoken ofthemselves as Christ's ministers of wrath; the romancer would haveprettily compared them to King David with his Heaven-ordered mission ofvengeance. And yet King David, for example, mutilated the Philistines ina fearfully brutal way--it is for any one to read--and how much morewould not these poor fellows be likely to shock and offend our nicesensibilities. No doubt it was horrible of Hyla to call up a sleepingpuppy and make it lick Pierce's blood from his hands, but this story iswritten to make Hyla explicit, and Hyla was not refined.

  Early in the morning the conspirators took a meal together beforesetting out to play their various parts in this tragedy. Harl wasalready far away with the women. Gurth was to go down to the river andtake the swiftest punt away from the landing-place and hide in the reedsupon the other side. A whistle would summon him when Hyla and Cerdiccame down to the water ready for flight. Gurth was to sink the otherpunts, to make pursuit impossible for a time.

  Cerdic, Richard, and a third man called Aescwig were to lie in the woodto turn the boar, as well as they were able, towards the glade ofMonkshood. They were lean, wiry men, swift of foot, and knew that theycould do this. Cerdic had a swift dog concealed, for it was unlawed,which he used for poaching. It would help them. Hyla himself would lurkin the glade with his knife, waiting in the hope of his enemy.

  After the first meal they slunk off to their posts with little outwardemotion and but few words of parting. The clear cold light of themorning chilled them, and robbed the occasion of much of its excitement.But for all that went they doggedly towards their work.

  For a certain distance Hyla went in company with the three beaters, butat a point they stopped, and he proceeded onwards alone.

  When he had got far on upon his way to Monkshood he lay down deep in thefern to rest, and watched the sky between the delicate lace of theleaves.

  He saw a tiny wine-coloured spider swinging from branch to branch like adrop of blood on a silver cord, the sunlight so irradiated it. The wildbees were already hard at work filling their bags of ebony and gold withthe sweet juices of flowers. The honeysuckle swung its trumpets roundthe brown pillar of an oak, like censers of amber and ivory, sheddingdelicate incense on the air. The breezes carried the rich scents to andfro from tree to tree. Hyla felt weary now that the hour was so close athand. He was not excited, nor did he even feel the slightest tremor offear. He was simply indifferent and tired. He wanted to sleep for everin this silent, sunlit place.

  He was wearing Pierce's dagger round his waist, and he took it out tosee if it was sharp enough. The stains of blood still held to it infilms of brown and purple, but its point was needle-like, and the edgebitter keen. He put it down by his side upon a great fern tuft overwhich countless ants were hurrying. It fell among the ants as a streakof lightning falls among a crowd of men. Then, like some uncouth spiritof the wood, some faun, one might have fancied, he fell into a long,dreamless sleep.

  He was awakened suddenly, when the sun was already at its height, by thesweet fanfaronade of distant horns. He glided away towards Monkshoodswiftly and silently, a brown thing stealing through the undergrowthupon his malign errand. At last he came to the place he sought.

  Monkshood Glade was a long narrow drive, carpeted with fine turf andsurrounded with a thick wall of trees. In shape it was like the aisle ofa cathedral. At the far end of the place it opened out into a halfcircle, like a lady chapel, and, to carry out the simile, where thealtar should have been three great trees were standing in a triangle.The trunks of the trees grew within a hand's breadth of each other andformed a deep recess, with no entry save the one at the base of thetriangle. Inside this place it was quite dark and cool.

  Hyla crept into the undergrowth at the side of the glade, about twentyyards from the entrance to this little tree-cave, and lay waiting,crouching on his belly.

  For an hour or two--it seemed ages to him--nothing happened whatever.The business of the wood went on all round, but there was no sound ofhuman life. The waiting made him restive and uneasy. He began toremember how many the chances were that Geoffroi would not come thatway. He began to see on how slender a possibility his hopes rested, andto wonder at himself and his companions for having trusted so great anissue to such a chance.

  Then, quite suddenly, his heart leapt up and began to beat furiously,till the sound of its throbbing seemed to be surely filling all thewood. Peering out of the scrub he saw far down the glade a grey speckmoving rapidly in his direction. It grew larger every moment as hewatched, and next he saw that it was followed by a second and largerobject, which almost immediately resolved itself into a man on horsebackriding hard. In two minutes the boar and its pursuer were close uponhim. He saw the boar galloping, with blood and foam round its tusks, andheard its harsh grunting. He could see its eyes as bright as live coals.Geoffroi was thundering twenty yards behind. Suddenly he saw the Barontaking aim at his quarry with a short, thick bow. He guided his horse,still in full career, a little to one side, by the pressure of hisknees. It was a wonderful piece of horsemanship. He saw a quick movementof Geoffroi's arm, and, though the arrow sped too quickly for him totrace its course, the great boar with a hoarse squeal stumbled upon itsfore-legs. It rose, staggered round in a circle, for the great forestbeasts die hard, and then with a final squeal rolled over upon its side,with its hoofs stark and stiff in the air.

  This took place between Hyla and the trees.

  Geoffroi reined in his horse and, throwing his bow upon the ground,dismounted and ran towards the boar. He drew his hunting knife as hewent.

  As silently as a snake Hyla crept out of the undergrowth. Geoffroi'sback was towards him and he was leaning over the boar with his knife.Hyla picked up the bow. The horse, heaving from its exertions, regardedhim with mild eyes devoid of curiosity. Hyla took a barbed hunting shaftfrom the little quiver at the saddle side. He fitted it carefully to thebow. Suddenly the Baron stood up and was about to turn round when Hyladrew the bow-string to his shoulder, English fashion, and shot thearrow. It struck Geoffroi in the muscles of the left shoulder and wentdeep into him.

  With a horrid yell
of agony he spun round towards his unseen foe. Hylahad rapidly fitted another arrow to the bow and stood confronting him.For a moment the two men stood regarding each other. Then very slowlyGeoffroi began to retreat backwards towards the trees. Hyla kept thearrow pointed at his heart.

  "That was for Elgifu," he said.

  Geoffroi reached the three trees, and went backwards into the recess.His eye rolled round desperately. Then he made a last effort. "Put thatdown," he roared with terrible authority. But the time had gone by whenhe could make Hyla cower.

  "This is for Frija," said Hyla, and an arrow quivered in Geoffroi'smouth and passed through his head, transfixing him to the tree trunkbehind.

  A sudden impulse flooded the Serf's brain, quick, vivid, and uplifting:the tears started into his eyes though he knew not why.

  Once more the bow-string twanged as a third arrow sank silently into thecorpse. "For FREEDOM!" he whispered fearfully, wondering at himself.

  Hyla stood watching the frightful sight with calm contemplation. TheBaron dead and bloody was nothing. He began to feel a positive contemptfor the man he had feared so long.

  As he stood with a smile distorting his face, a horn rang out down theglade, and he saw that a horseman was riding hard towards him. Makingthe sign of the cross, he slipped into cover and began to fly swiftlythrough the wood.