It was the second night after that day when Sir Andrew had looked JohnClavering in the eyes.
Secretly and in darkness those three whom Grey Dick had killed wereborne into the nave of Blythburgh church and there laid in the gravewhich had been made ready for them. Till now their corpses had been keptabove ground in the hope that the body of John Clavering the youngermight be added to their number. But search as they would upon seashoreand river-bank, nothing of him was ever seen again. This funeral wascelebrated in the darkness, since neither Sir John nor Acour desiredthat all men should see three bodies that had been slain by one archer,aided by a merchant's lad, standing alone against a score, and know, tosay naught of the wounded, that there was yet another to be added tothe tale. Therefore they interred them by night with no notice of theceremony.
It was a melancholy scene. The nave of the great church, lighted onlywith the torches borne by the six monks of the black Augustines from theneighbouring priory of St. Osyth; the candles, little stars of light,burning far away upon the altar; the bearers of the household of theClaverings and the uncoffined corpses lying on their biers by the edgeof the yawning graves; the mourners in their mail; the low voice of thecelebrating priest, a Frenchman, Father Nicholas, chaplain to Acour, whohurried through the Latin service as though he wished to be done withit; the deep shadows of the groined roof whereon the rain pattered--suchwere the features of this interment. It was done at last, and the poordead, but a few days before so full of vigour and of passion, were leftto their last sleep in the unremembered grave. Then the mourners marchedback to the manor across the Middle Marsh and sought their beds in a sadsilence.
Shortly after daybreak they were called from them again by the news thatthose who had followed Hugh de Cressi had returned. Quickly they rose,thinking that these came back with tidings of accomplished vengeance, tofind themselves face to face with seven starved and miserable men who,all their horses being dead, had walked hither from Dunwich.
The wretched story was learned at length, and then followed that violentscene, which has been told already, when Acour cursed his followers ascowards, and Clavering, sobered perhaps by the sadness of the midnightburial or by the memory of Arnold's words, reproved him. Lastly, stungby the taunts that were heaped upon them, Sir Pierre de la Roche gaveHugh's message--that if they lifted hand against his love or his Househe would kill them like ravening wolves, "which I think he certainlywill do, for none can conquer him and his henchman," he added shortly.
Then Sir John's rage flared up again like fire when fresh fuel is thrownon ashes. He cursed Hugh and Grey Dick; he cursed his daughter; he evencursed Acour and asked for the second time how it came about that he whohad brought all this trouble on him was given the evil name of traitor.
"I know not," answered Sir Edmund fiercely, and laying his hand upon hissword, "but this I know, that you or any man will do well not to repeatit if you value life."
"Do you threaten me?" asked Sir John. "Because, if so, you will do wellto begone out of this house of shame and woe lest you be borne out feetfirst. Nay, nay, I forgot," he added slowly, clasping his head in hishands, "you are my daughter's affianced, are you not, and will giveher high place and many famous titles, and her son shall be calledClavering, that the old name may not die but be great in England, inFrance, and in Italy. You must bide to marry her, lest that cuckoo, Hughde Cressi, that cuckoo with the sharp bill, should creep into my nest.I'll not be worsted by a stripling clad in merchant's cloth who slewmy only son. Take not my words ill, noble Noyon, for I am overdone withgrief for the past and fear for the future. You must bide to marry herby fair means or by foul. Draw her from the sanctuary and marry herwhether she say you yea or nay. You have my leave, noble Noyon," and sospeaking he swayed and fell prone upon the floor.
At first they thought that he was dead. But the chaplain, Nicholas, whowas a leech, bled him, and he came to himself again, although he stillwandered in his talk and lay abed.
Then Acour and Nicholas took counsel together.
"What is to be done?" said Sir Edmund, "for I am on fire for this maid,and all her scorn and hate do but fan my flame. Moreover, she is nowvery rich, for that old hot-head cannot live long. His violenthumours will kill him, and, as you know, Father, although I have greatpossessions, my costs are large and I have still greater debts. Lastly,shall de Noyon and his knights be worsted by a wool-merchant's youngerson, a mere 'prentice lad, and his henchman, a common archer of thefens? Show me how to get her, Nicholas, and I'll make an abbot of youyet. This sanctuary, now? will it hold? If we stormed the place and tookher, would the Holy Father give us absolution, do you think?"
"No, my lord," answered the fox-faced Nicholas. "The Church is greatbecause the Church is one, and what the priest does the Pope upholds,especially when that priest is no mean man. This holy monk, Sir AndrewArnold, has reputation throughout Europe, and, though he seems sohumble, because of his wisdom is in the counsel of many great men whosefathers or grandfathers were guided by him long ago. Commit whatcrime you will, dip yourself to the lips in blood, and you may findforgiveness, but touch not an ancient and acknowledged sanctuary of theChurch, since for this offence there will be none."
"What then, Nicholas? Must I give up the chase and fly? To speak truth,things seem to threaten me. Why has that Hugh twice called me traitor?Have any of my letters fallen into strange hands, think you? I havewritten several, and you know my mission here."
"It is possible, lord; all things are possible, but I think not. I thinkthat he only draws the bow at a hazard, which is more than Grey Dickdoes," he added with a chuckle. "These brute English hate us French,whom they know to be their masters in all that makes a man, and traitorto their fool king is the least of the words they throw at us."
"Well, priest, my mother was English, as my wife will be. Therefore stayyour tongue on that matter and tell me how I am to make her my wife,"answered Acour haughtily.
The chaplain cringed and bowed, rubbing his thin hands together.
"I thought you wished to speak of the English, my lord, otherwise Ishould not have ventured--but as to the lady Eve, something comes to me.Why does she stay in sanctuary who herself has committed no crime? Is itnot, such is her madness, because she would be out of reach of you andyour endearments? Now if she believed you gone far enough away, let ussay to France, and knew that her father lay ill, why then----" and hepaused.
"You mean that she might come out of sanctuary of her own accord?"
"Yes, lord, and we might set a springe to catch this bird so rare andshy, and though she'd flutter, flutter, flutter, and peck, peck, peck,what could she do when you smoothed her plumage with your loving hand,and a priest was waiting to say the word that should cause her to forgether doubts and that merchant bumpkin?"
"Ah, Nicholas, you have a good wit, and if all goes well you shallcertainly be an abbot. But would her father, do you think----"
"Lord, that beef-eating knight is in such a rage that he would doanything. What did he say just before the stroke took him? That you wereto marry her by fair means or by foul. Yes, and he told me an hour agothat if only he knew she was your wife, he would die happy. Oh, you havehis warrant for anything you do to bring about this end. Still there isno need to tell him too much lest it should cause his good name to beaspersed by the vulgar. Many, it seems, love this Red Eve for her highspirit, and are friends to the de Cressis, an open-handed race who knowhow to bind folk to them. Listen how it must be done."
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