“What better place to die? In your arms, I mean.”
She was exasperated. “Are you never serious? You are in danger, far more than you believe.”
We slept in separate beds, but I was sure she had a knife and was prepared to defend herself, and I am quite sure she remained awake most of the night. I, on the other hand, slept deeply and well.
Knowing little about women’s thoughts, I have no idea how the Comtesse felt about me. She was, I suspect, ready to use the knife during the first hour and perhaps during the second. By the third hour I suspect she was wishing I would make some attempt so she could settle the matter and get some sleep. Her state of mind after that I would not attempt to assess.
When the sun came up, I went down to the common room and ate my breakfast, taking hers to her.
“Did you sleep well?” I asked, all innocence.
“I slept very well!”
“Good. The caravan should arrive today, and you must be rested for travel.”
During the afternoon, dressed in a cloth coat and cap, I risked a visit to the town. My clothes were such as a prosperous merchant would wear, so with the influx of people for the fair I was not likely to attract attention. However, I did a little advance work for the caravan and discovered the Hansgraf was well known here.
It was evening before I returned. The Comtesse was awaiting me. “How much longer must I be cooped up here?” she protested. “It is maddening!”
“Go now, if you wish. Count Robert may not be in the town, but I am sure he has spies here.”
“You might at least stay with me!”
“I have matters to arrange, but I thought you might prefer to be alone. It must be difficult for you to be in a room with a mere merchant.”
She did not reply to that. Today, she looked even more beautiful and had wrapped her braids about her head in a perfectly enchanting way, and she was wearing pearls. Knowing a bit about such things, I thought it was obvious they were worth more money than I had ever seen.
The Comtesse wore a clinging white gown, a closefitting garment with tight sleeves above the elbow, falling wide and open below the elbow. With her dark hair and eyes she was astonishingly beautiful. How she managed with the small amount of clothing she brought with her, I had no idea. Yet the result was certainly worth the effort.
I told her about the town, a pleasant, walled town where our arrival had been accepted without curiosity, yet I was wary. Not for a moment did I underestimate the jealousy of Count Robert, who wanted not only the castle but the girl as well. The former meant the power equal to that of a crowned king, and the loveliness of the Comtesse was answer to the second consideration.
While in town I purchased a fur-lined tunic that came to my knees, and new leather boots that pulled on over plain hose. The boots came to just above the calf and were beautifully made. Walking in the town, I carried no sword, but I had two daggers beneath the tunic that could be reached through a slit in the front just above the belt.
There was knocking at the door. It was the innkeeper. He was visibly nervous.
“There have been queries about a lady. Knowing you for a friend of the Hansgraf, I said nothing about—about your sister.”
“Who made the inquiries?”
“Soldiers of a Count Robert. He rode into town this morning with about thirty men, and I am sure they will be back.”
“Do you wish us to leave?”
“Would you? But stay until the night. The Hansgraf should be here by then.”
Taking up my sword, I placed it conveniently on the table. Glancing again at the innkeeper, I decided to trust to his discretion.
“What I have said is true. I am a merchant of the caravan led by Hansgraf Rupert von Gilderstern. As you have guessed, the lady is not my sister. She was to be forced into marriage with Count Robert. A castle is at stake as well as the happiness of the Comtesse.”
He dismissed the explanation with a gesture. “It is nothing. Count Robert comes, he goes. In a lifetime I shall not see him again, but each year the Hansgraf comes to Provins, spends much money here, brings much business. He is a good man much respected. Do not worry.”
When he had gone the Comtesse turned quickly to me. “You must go! If you are found with me, he will kill you!”
It irritated my masculine pride that she thought me so easily killed. “Madame, we Kerbouchards do not kill so easily. “This blade”—I gestured to the sword—“has taken the life of one baron not long since. No doubt it can take the life of another.”
“You killed a baron?”
“After we had taken his fortress by storm. Barons, my Comtesse, bleed as easily as merchants or peasants. This one bled like the thief he was. The Baron de Tournemine—”
“Tournemine?”
“Not a relative, I hope?”
“No, but a captain at the Castle of Saône once served him, a man named Taillefeur.”
“Trust him not. I believe he betrayed my father, and he tried to rob me. He is a mercenary without their virtue of loyalty. If he is not in the pay of Count Robert, I would be surprised.”
“I trust him.”
“Others have, to their cost. Once I nearly cracked his skull, and only wish I had struck harder.”
She was frightened. “If I cannot trust my own captains, then whom can I trust?”
I bowed. “You may trust me with your castle, your wealth, your life, but not too many nights in the same room with you.”
Her eyes were amused. “You have spoken so much of that, merchant, that I wonder if you are not just a talker.”
Stung, I started to reply, but she laughed, and turned her back on me. That white dress did admirable things to her hips, which were shapely, very—
A sudden uproar in the street took me to the window. Six men-at-arms clustered there, and with them was a tall, powerfully made man with a swarthy face and thick black brows. Nobody needed to tell me this was Count Robert.
Turning swiftly, I said, “Do you remain here, and make no sound. I shall go below.” Belting on my sword, I turned to the door.
She caught my arm. “No! Please! He will kill you!”
Bending my head, I kissed her lightly on the lips and regretted that I must leave.
“Wait for me. If I die, I take the memory of your lips with me.” Adding, for my own information, that I did not intend to die. Too much remained to be done.
Count Robert was approaching the steps when I appeared on them. “Stand aside,” he ordered, “I wish to mount the stairs.”
“At the head of the stairs,” I replied, “is one room. It is my room. You have no business there.”
“Stand aside, I said!” His black eyes were cold. “Or I shall spill your innards and walk over them to the room.”
“If you come up these stairs,” I said, “we shall see whose innards lie upon them.” I drew my sword. “Come, if you wish. You can bite on this steel.”
Coolly, he stepped back and motioned to the men behind him. “I do not fight with commoners. These do it for me.”
“An excuse for cowardice,” I replied.
Count Robert gestured at the men-at-arms. “Kill him,” he said.
“If they advance one step,” a voice called out in a haughty tone that once heard could not be forgotten, “I shall hang the lot of them, and you higher than the rest.
“I am the Hansgraf Rupert von Gilderstern, of the White Company of traders. This man is a merchant of our company.”
“I have thirty men!” Count Robert declared.
“And I have five times that number.” The Hansgraf stood on the landing inside the door, feet apart, hands clasped behind him. “They are veterans of more than three hundred battles, Count Robert. Any five of my men would take your thirty and spit them like frogs.”
The Hansgraf put a hand on his hip. “If you have had no experience of war with a merchant caravan, Count Robert, this will be a lesson to you, a lesson you would not live to appreciate.”
The Hansgraf step
ped down into the room, and a dozen of his men followed after. Months of hard riding in all kinds of weather had darkened and toughened their faces. Their armor bore dents from many conflicts. They were lean, muscular men ready for whatever must be done.
Count Robert’s men lowered their weapons, and giving them an ugly glance, Count Robert strode from the room, followed by his men.
The Hansgraf held out his hand. “You disappear, then appear again! It is good to see you, Kerbouchard!”
Then he added, “I would suggest you disguise the lady, and we will go to the market where we are known.”
The Comtesse appeared at the head of the steps. “I am ready, Hansgraf, and you have my thanks.”
She came down the steps wearing the old cloak worn when we first met in the forest, the hood covering her hair.
Turning to me, she said, “From the actions of the Count I can see it is not only the rascals who have rascality.” She looked up at me. “And not only the nobles, Kerbouchard, who have nobility!”
Chapter 35
*
THE FAIR AT Provins was one of the largest in France during the twelfth century. There was a fair in May, but the most important was that in September. Now the unseasonably cold, wet weather had disappeared, and the days were warm and sunny.
Long sheds without walls covered the display of goods. Silks, woolens, armor, weapons, leather goods, hides, pottery, furs, and every conceivable object or style of goods could be found there.
Around the outer edge of the market where the great merchants had their displays were the peasants, each with some small thing for sale. Grain, hides, vegetables, fruit, goats, pigs, and chickens, as well as handicrafts of various kinds.
Always there was entertainment, for the fairs attracted magicians, troupes of acrobats, fire-eaters, sword-swallowers, jugglers, and mountebanks of every kind and description.
The merchants usually bought and sold by the gross; hence, they were called grossers, a word that eventually came to be spelled grocer. Dealing in smaller amounts allowed too little chance for profit, and too great a quantity risked being left with odds and ends of merchandise. The White Company had come from Spain with silk and added woolens from Flanders. Our preferred trade was for lace, easy to transport and valued wherever we might go.
Merchants were looked upon with disdain by the nobles, but they were jealous of the increasing wealth and power of such men as the Hansgraf, Lucca, Johannes, or a dozen others among us.
The wealth of nobles came from loot or ransoms gained in war or the sale of produce from land worked by serfs, and there were times when this amounted to very little. The merchants, however, nearly always found a market for their goods.
At the Provins fair there were all manner of men and costumes: Franks, Goths, Saxons, Englanders, Normans, Lombards, Moors, Armenians, Jews, and Greeks. Although this trade was less than a century old, changes were coming into being. Some merchants were finding it profitable to settle down in a desirable location and import their goods from the nearest seaport or buy from the caravans.
Artisans had for some time been moving away from the castles and settling in towns to sell their goods to whoever passed. Cobblers, weavers, coppers, potters, and armorers had begun to set up shops rather than doing piecework on order. The merchant-adventurers were merely distributors of such goods.
The finest cloth was made in England and Flanders, woven from wool clipped from sheep grazing on the damp grounds near the sea where they grew the finest wool. Cloaks made from this wool were in great demand, and the greater the distance from the point of origin the better the price.
This was the reason the Hansgraf and his company had decided upon the venture to Kiev.
Such cloth was worth fifty times its cost in Kiev, and furs purchased there would bring a fine profit in Byzantium or Italy. Such an extended journey, if successful, could make the fortune of every man present.
The Church looked upon the merchants with disfavor, for trade was considered a form of usury, and every form of speculation considered a sin. Moreover, they were suspicious of the far-traveling merchants as purveyors of freethinking.
Change was in the air, but to the merchant to whom change was usual, any kind of permanence seemed unlikely. The doubts and superstitions of the peasants and nobles seemed childish to these men who had wandered far and seen much, exposed to many ideas and ways of living. Yet often the merchant who found a good market kept the information for his own use, bewailing his experience and telling of the dangers en route, anything to keep others from finding his market or his sources of cheap raw material.
Regardless of what the Church as an institution felt, the convents, monasteries, and churches were among the merchants’ best customers. Vestments worn by Church prelates were usually the product of Moorish weavers. I found them, with few exceptions, eager for books or news and to listen to the experiences of the merchants. Despite attempts to impose a pattern from above, the priests and monks in villages and towns were a part of the change that was altering the face of Europe and tempering its opinions.
One such came to my stall in the market to buy a bit of brocade for a vestment. We talked of the material, of Córdoba, of books, and finally of medicine.
“The Arabs,” I said, “believe in absolute cleanliness of the hands and instruments before beginning an operation.”
“I have heard”—he looked at me with worried eyes—“that Maimonides has ventured to criticize Galen himself.”
“And rightly so.”
He was shocked. “Is there nothing on which we can place a finger and say, ‘This is so, this is correct’?”
“Perhaps, but the one law of the universe seems to be change. Everything is in a state of flux, and it is better so.”
He shook his head in disagreement, yet not in total disagreement, I was sure. “Speak softly,” he said, “such remarks are better unheard.”
A thought seemed to occur to him. “You are not he who—?”
He knew I was the one.
Nor could I well deny it, for he might question others to verify if I was the man who disputed the teacher at the university.
“I trust your friendship. What I say is as one scholar to another. At the end of the fair I leave Europe, probably never to return.”
“What was it you said?”
“That Bernard of Clairvaux was a fool in taking issue with Abelard. I believe Abelard was a fine scholar, and we need more like him.”
“I agree with much of what he taught.” He looked at me. “You are fortunate to travel. Possibly a pilgrimage is what I need.”
We talked of changes in the laws of the Franks brought about by the presence of the merchants, by their dealings with each other and with the towns. Charlemagne had begun it by promoting travel within his empire, but the merchants caused basic changes in the law by introducing elements foreign to earlier thinking.
In a civilization based primarily upon agriculture, with all law based upon the use of land, we merchants brought new considerations. Authority stemmed from the king, the Church, and the great barons, and all property was rooted in the land. Merchants were subject to few of the existing laws, so they had evolved codes of their own for use among themselves. Local courts began to have recourse to these laws in settling disputes in which merchants were involved.
These laws made the merchant a privileged person, free of the laws that bound the citizens. The barons, enjoying taxes paid by the merchants as well as the trade they introduced, offered special treatment to merchant caravans.
The tall young monk whose special interest was the law was intrigued by this. It fitted his mind for the acceptance of change.
The Comtesse, who had never witnessed a fair, was very excited. Donning a costume from Arabia that one of the wives in the caravan offered her, she emerged to enjoy it.
People had come from miles away to sell their goods or simply to enjoy the performances and the excitement. Aside from our own caravan, now merged with that of
Peter, five others were present. One was Italian, another was from Armenia; Germans from the shores of the Baltic, Venetians, and Netherlanders were all attending the fair.
We merchants had our own argot, and our signals to warn of impending trouble. Within a few minutes after the fair opened all the merchants knew about Count Robert and who it was he sought. Among us we numbered more than a thousand tough, seasoned fighting men. The jugglers, magicians, and acrobats were our allies also, and the various companies knew each other from many previous meetings. No matter what differences they might have with each other, and they were few, all stood together against trouble.
Suddenly, at my elbow, there was a word. Turning, I saw the wrinkled, wily old Khatib! Khatib, from Córdoba! My friend the beggar, the thief, the purveyor of information!
“Ah, but it warms my heart to see you!” He gestured. “I am with the jugglers.”
Opening a hollow in the handle of his dagger, he took out a rolled up bit of writing.
I have not forgotten.
V.
The Comtesse saw it, glancing quickly from it to me. “From a woman?”
Khatib grinned at me, bowing elaborately to her. “What leopard does not recognize the tracks of another leopard?”
He spoke in Arabic, but she replied quickly, “You liken me to a leopard?”
We were astonished, for neither had guessed that she spoke Arabic, yet why not? She had grown up in a castle in an Arab land.
“All women are huntresses; all are deadly.”
“I am not surprised that this man is your friend,” she said to me. “You think alike.”
Without comment I showed her the note. She lifted an eyebrow, then handed it back. “I wonder what you could have done that would make anyone remember you past the second day?”
“I do not expect to be remembered,” I said, “only enjoyed.”
Suddenly there was a burst of cheers, and we turned to see a man doing a handstand with one hand atop a tall pole held by another man. Then the jugglers, a sword-swallower, and others were crowding about.
“It must be wonderful, to live like that!” the Comtesse said.
Novel 1984 - The Walking Drum (v5.0) Page 27