OLD MEN AT PEVENSEY
'It has nought to do with apes or devils,' Sir Richard went on, in anundertone. 'It concerns De Aquila, than whom there was never bolder norcraftier, nor more hardy knight born. And, remember, he was an old, oldman at that time.'
'When?' said Dan.
'When we came back from sailing with Witta.'
'What did you do with your gold?' said Dan.
'Have patience. Link by link is chain-mail made. I will tell all in itsplace. We bore the gold to Pevensey on horseback--three loads of it--andthen up to the north chamber, above the Great Hall of Pevensey Castle,where De Aquila lay in winter. He sat on his bed like a little whitefalcon, turning his head swiftly from one to the other as we told ourtale. Jehan the Crab, an old sour man-at-arms, guarded the stairway, butDe Aquila bade him wait at the stair-foot, and let down both leathercurtains over the door. It was Jehan whom De Aquila had sent to us withthe horses, and only Jehan had loaded the gold. When our story was told,De Aquila gave us the news of England, for we were as men waked from ayear-long sleep. The Red King was dead--slain (ye remember?) the day we setsail--and Henry, his younger brother, had made himself King of England overthe head of Robert of Normandy. This was the very thing that the Red Kinghad done to Robert when our Great William died. Then Robert of Normandy,mad, as De Aquila said, at twice missing of this kingdom, had sent an armyagainst England, which army had been well beaten back to their ships atPortsmouth. A little earlier, and Witta's ship would have rowed throughthem.
'"And now," said De Aquila, "half the great Barons of the north and westare out against the King between Salisbury and Shrewsbury; and half theother half wait to see which way the game shall go. They say Henry isoverly English for their stomachs, because he hath married an English wifeand she hath coaxed him to give back their old laws to our Saxons. (Betterride a horse on the bit he knows, _I_ say.) But that is only a cloak totheir falsehood." He cracked his finger on the table where the wine wasspilt, and thus he spoke:--
'"William crammed us Norman barons full of good English acres afterSantlache. _I_ had my share too," he said, and clapped Hugh on theshoulder; "but I warned him--I warned him before Odo rebelled--that heshould have bidden the Barons give up their lands and lordships inNormandy if they would be English lords. Now they are all but princes bothin England and Normandy--trencher-fed hounds, with a foot in one trough andboth eyes on the other! Robert of Normandy has sent them word that if theydo not fight for him in England he will sack and harry out their lands inNormandy. Therefore Clare has risen, Fitz Osborn has risen, Montgomery hasrisen--whom our First William made an English earl. Even D'Arcy is out withhis men, whose father I remember a little hedge-sparrow knight nearbyCaen. If Henry wins, the Barons can still flee to Normandy, where Robertwill welcome them. If Henry loses, Robert, he says, will give them morelands in England. Oh, a pest--a pest on Normandy, for she will be ourEngland's curse this many a long year!"
'"Amen," said Hugh. "But will the war come our ways, think you?"
'"Not from the North," said De Aquila. "But the sea is always open. If theBarons gain the upper hand Robert will send another army into England forsure; and this time I think he will land here--where his father, theConqueror, landed. Ye have brought your pigs to a pretty market! HalfEngland alight, and gold enough on the ground"--he stamped on the barsbeneath the table--"to set every sword in Christendom fighting."
'"What is to do?" said Hugh. "I have no keep at Dallington; and if weburied it, whom could we trust?"
'"Me," said De Aquila. "Pevensey walls are strong. No man but Jehan, whois my dog, knows what is between them." He drew a curtain by theshot-window and showed us the shaft of a well in the thickness of thewall.
'"I made it for a drinking-well," he said, "but we found salt water, andit rises and falls with the tide. Hark!" We heard the water whistle andblow at the bottom. "Will it serve?" said he.
'"Needs must," said Hugh. "Our lives are in thy hands." So we lowered allthe gold down except one small chest of it by De Aquila's bed, which wekept as much for his delight in its weight and colour as for any ourneeds.
'In the morning, ere we rode to our Manors, he said: "I do not sayfarewell; because ye will return and bide here. Not for love nor forsorrow, but to be with the gold. Have a care," he said, laughing, "lest Iuse it to make myself Pope. Trust me not, but return!"'
Sir Richard paused and smiled sadly.
'In seven days, then, we returned from our Manors--from the Manors whichhad been ours.'
'And were the children quite well?' said Una.
'My sons were young. Land and governance belong by right to young men.'Sir Richard was talking to himself. 'It would have broken their hearts ifwe had taken back our Manors. They made us great welcome, but we couldsee--Hugh and I could see--that our day was done. I was a cripple and he aone-armed man. No!' He shook his head. 'And therefore'--he raised hisvoice--'we rode back to Pevensey.'
'I'm sorry,' said Una, for the knight seemed very sorrowful.
'Little maid, it all passed long ago. They were young; we were old. We letthem rule the Manors. "Aha!" cried De Aquila from his shot-window, when wedismounted. "Back again to earth, old foxes?" but when we were in hischamber above the hall he puts his arms about us and says, "Welcome,ghosts! Welcome, poor ghosts!"... Thus it fell out that we were richbeyond belief, and lonely. And lonely!'
'What did you do?' said Dan.
'We watched for Robert of Normandy,' said the knight. 'De Aquila was likeWitta. He suffered no idleness. In fair weather we would ride alongbetween Bexlei on the one side, to Cuckmere on the other--sometimes withhawk, sometimes with hound (there are stout hares both on the Marsh andthe Downland), but always with an eye to the sea, for fear of fleets fromNormandy. In foul weather he would walk on the top of his tower, frowningagainst the rain--peering here and pointing there. It always vexed him tothink how Witta's ship had come and gone without his knowledge. When thewind ceased and ships anchored, to the wharf's edge he would go and,leaning on his sword among the stinking fish, would call to the marinersfor their news from France. His other eye he kept landward for word ofHenry's war against the Barons.
'Many brought him news--jongleurs, harpers, pedlars, sutlers, priests, andthe like; and, though he was secret enough in small things, yet, if theirnews misliked him, then, regarding neither time nor place nor people,would he curse our King Henry for a fool or a babe. I have heard him cryaloud by the fishing-boats: "If I were King of England I would do thus andthus"; and when I rode out to see that the warning-beacons were laid anddry, he hath often called to me from the shot-window: "Look to it,Richard! Do not copy our blind King, but see with thine own eyes and feelwith thine own hands." I do not think he knew any sort of fear. And so welived at Pevensey, in the little chamber above the Hall.
'One foul night came word that a messenger of the King waited below. Wewere chilled after a long riding in the fog towards Bexlei, which is aneasy place for ships to land. De Aquila sent word the man might either eatwith us or wait till we had fed. Anon Jehan, at the stair-head, cried thathe had called for horse, and was gone. "Pest on him!" said De Aquila. "Ihave more to do than to shiver in the Great Hall for every gadling theKing sends. Left he no word?"
'"None," said Jehan, "except"--he had been with De Aquila atSantlache--"except he said that if an old dog could not learn new tricks itwas time to sweep out the kennel."
'"Oho!" said De Aquila, rubbing his nose, "to whom did he say that?"
'"To his beard, chiefly, but some to his horse's flank as he was girthingup. I followed him out," said Jehan the Crab.
'"What was his shield-mark?"
'"Gold horseshoes on black," said the Crab.
'"That is one of Fulke's men," said De Aquila.'
Puck broke in very gently, 'Gold horseshoes on black is _not_ the Fulkes'shield. The Fulkes' arms are----'
The knight waved one hand statelily.
'Thou knowest that evil man's true name,' he replied, 'but I have chosento call him Fulke bec
ause I promised him I would not tell the story of hiswickedness so that any man might guess it. I have changed _all_ the namesin my tale. His children's children may be still alive.'
'True--true,' said Puck, smiling softly. 'It is knightly to keep faith--evenafter a thousand years.'
Sir Richard bowed a little and went on:--
'"Gold horseshoes on black?" said De Aquila. "I had heard Fulke had joinedthe Barons, but if this is true our King must be of the upper hand. Nomatter, all Fulkes are faithful. Still, I would not have sent the man awayempty."
'"He fed," said Jehan. "Gilbert the Clerk fetched him meat and wine fromthe kitchens. He ate at Gilbert's table."
'This Gilbert was a clerk from Battle Abbey, who kept the accounts of theManor of Pevensey. He was tall and pale-coloured, and carried thosenew-fashioned beads for counting of prayers. They were large brown nuts orseeds, and hanging from his girdle with his penner and inkhorn theyclashed when he walked. His place was in the great fireplace. There washis table of accounts, and there he lay o' nights. He feared the hounds inthe Hall that came nosing after bones or to sleep on the warm ashes, andwould slash at them with his beads--like a woman. When De Aquila sat inHall to do justice, take fines, or grant lands, Gilbert would so write itin the Manor-roll. But it was none of his work to feed our guests, or tolet them depart without his lord's knowledge.
'Said De Aquila, after Jehan was gone down the stair: "Hugh, hast thouever told my Gilbert thou canst read Latin hand-of-write?"
'"No," said Hugh. "He is no friend to me, or to Odo my hound either." "Nomatter," said De Aquila. "Let him never know thou canst tell one letterfrom its fellow, and"--here he jerked us in the ribs with hisscabbard--"watch him both of ye. There be devils in Africa, as I haveheard, but by the Saints there be greater devils in Pevensey!" And thatwas all he would say.
'It chanced, some small while afterwards, a Norman man-at-arms would wed aSaxon wench of the Manor, and Gilbert (we had watched him well since DeAquila spoke) doubted whether her folk were free or slave. Since De Aquilawould give them a field of good land, if she were free, the matter came upat the justice in Great Hall before De Aquila. First the wench's fatherspoke; then her mother; then all together, till the hall rang and thehounds bayed. De Aquila held up his hands. "Write her free," he called toGilbert by the fireplace. "A' God's Name write her free, before shedeafens me! Yes, yes," he said to the wench that was on her knees at him;"thou art Cerdic's sister, and own cousin to the Lady of Mercia, if thouwilt be silent. In fifty years there will be neither Norman nor Saxon, butall English," said he, "and _these_ are the men that do our work!" Heclapped the man-at-arms, that was Jehan's nephew, on the shoulder, andkissed the wench, and fretted with his feet among the rushes to show itwas finished. (The Great Hall is always bitter cold.) I stood at his side;Hugh was behind Gilbert in the fireplace making to play with wise roughOdo. He signed to De Aquila, who bade Gilbert measure the new field forthe new couple. Out then runs our Gilbert between man and maid, his beadsclashing at his waist, and the Hall being empty, we three sit by the fire.
'Said Hugh, leaning down to the hearthstones, "I saw this stone move underGilbert's foot when Odo snuffed at it. Look!" De Aquila digged in theashes with his sword; the stone tilted; beneath it lay a parchment folden,and the writing atop was: "Words spoken against the King by our Lord ofPevensey--the second part."
'Here was set out (Hugh read it us whispering) every jest De Aquila hadmade to us touching the King; every time he had called out to me from theshot-window, and every time he had said what he would do if he were Kingof England. Yes, day by day had his daily speech, which he never stinted,been set down by Gilbert, tricked out and twisted from its true meaning,yet withal so cunningly that none could deny who knew him that De Aquilahad in some sort spoken those words. Ye see?'
Dan and Una nodded.
'Yes,' said Una, gravely. 'It isn't what you say so much. It's what youmean when you say it. Like calling Dan a beast in fun. Only grown-upsdon't always understand.'
'"He hath done this day by day before our very face?" said De Aquila.
"Nay, hour by hour," said Hugh. "When De Aquila spoke even now, in thehall, of Saxons and Normans, I saw Gilbert write on a parchment, which hekept beside the Manor-roll, that De Aquila said soon there would be noNormans left in England if his men-at-arms did their work aright."
'"Bones of the Saints!" said De Aquila. "What avail is honour or a swordagainst a pen? Where did Gilbert hide that writing? He shall eat it."
'"In his breast when he ran out," said Hugh. "Which made me look to seewhere he kept his finished stuff. When Odo scratched at this stone here, Isaw his face change. So I was sure."
'"He is bold," said De Aquila. "Do him justice. In his own fashion, myGilbert is bold."
'"Overbold," said Hugh. "Hearken here," and he read: "Upon the feast ofSt. Agatha, our Lord of Pevensey, lying in his upper chamber, beingclothed in his second fur gown reversed with rabbit----"
'"Pest on him! He is not my tire-woman!" said De Aquila, and Hugh and Ilaughed.
'"Reversed with rabbit, seeing a fog over the marshes, did wake SirRichard Dalyngridge, his drunken cup-mate" (here they laughed at me) "andsaid, 'Peer out, old fox, for God is on the Duke of Normandy's side.'"
'"So did I. It was a black fog. Robert could have landed ten thousand men,and we none the wiser. Does he tell how we were out all day riding themarsh, and how I near perished in a quicksand, and coughed like a sick ewefor ten days after?" cried De Aquila.
'"No," said Hugh. "But here is the prayer of Gilbert himself to his masterFulke."
'"Ah," said De Aquila. "Well I knew it was Fulke. What is the price of myblood?"
'"Gilbert prayeth that when our Lord of Pevensey is stripped of his landson this evidence which Gilbert hath, with fear and pains, collected----"
'"Fear and pains is a true word," said De Aquila, and sucked in hischeeks. "But how excellent a weapon is a pen! I must learn it."
'"He prays that Fulke will advance him from his present service to thathonour in the Church which Fulke promised him. And lest Fulke shouldforget, he has written below, 'To be Sacristan of Battle.'"
'At this De Aquila whistled. "A man who can plot against one lord can plotagainst another. When I am stripped of my lands Fulke will whip off myGilbert's foolish head. None the less Battle needs a new Sacristan. Theytell me the Abbot Henry keeps no sort of rule there."
'"Let the Abbot wait," said Hugh. "It is our heads and our lands that arein danger. This parchment is the second part of the tale. The first hasgone to Fulke, and so to the King, who will hold us traitors."
'"Assuredly," said De Aquila. "Fulke's man took the first part thatevening when Gilbert fed him, and our King is so beset by his brother andhis Barons (small blame, too!) that he is mad with mistrust. Fulke has hisear, and pours poison into it. Presently the King gives him my land andyours. This is old," and he leaned back and yawned.
'"And thou wilt surrender Pevensey without word or blow?" said Hugh. "WeSaxons will fight your King then. I will go warn my nephew at Dallington.Give me a horse!"
'"Give thee a toy and a rattle." said De Aquila. "Put back the parchment,and rake over the ashes. If Fulke is given my Pevensey which is England'sgate, what will he do with it? He is Norman at heart, and his heart is inNormandy, where he can kill peasants at his pleasure. He will openEngland's gate to our sleepy Robert, as Odo and Mortain tried to do, andthen there will be another landing and another Santlache. Therefore Icannot give up Pevensey."
'"Good," said we two.
'"Ah, but wait! If my King be made, on Gilbert's evidence, to mistrust me,he will send his men against me here, and, while we fight, England's gateis left unguarded. Who will be the first to come through thereby? EvenRobert of Normandy. Therefore I cannot fight my King." He nursed hissword--thus.
'"This is saying and unsaying like a Norman," said Hugh. "What of ourManors?"
'"I do not think for myself," said De Aquila, "nor for our King, nor foryour lands. I think for
England, for whom neither King nor Baron thinks. Iam not Norman, Sir Richard, nor Saxon, Sir Hugh. English am I."
'"Saxon, Norman, or English," said Hugh, "our lives are thine, however thegame goes. When do we hang Gilbert?"
'"Never," said De Aquila. "Who knows he may yet be Sacristan of Battle,for, to do him justice, he is a good writer. Dead men make dumb witnesses.Wait."
'"But the King may give Pevensey to Fulke. And our Manors go with it,"said I. "Shall we tell our sons?"
'"No. The King will not wake up a hornet's nest in the South till he hassmoked out the bees in the North. He may hold me a traitor; but at leasthe sees I am not fighting against him, and every day that I lie still isso much gain to him while he fights the barons. If he were wise he wouldwait till that war were over before he made new enemies. But I think Fulkewill play upon him to send for me, and if I do not obey the summons thatwill, to Henry's mind, be proof of my treason. But mere talk, such asGilbert sends, is no proof nowadays. We Barons follow the Church, and,like Anselm, we speak what we please. Let us go about our day's dealings,and say naught to Gilbert."
'"Then we do nothing?" said Hugh.
'"We wait," said De Aquila. "I am old, but still I find that the mostgrievous work I know."
'And so we found it, but in the end De Aquila was right.
'A little later in the year, armed men rode over the hill, the GoldenHorseshoes flying behind the King's banner. Said De Aquila, at the windowof our chamber: "How did I tell you? Here comes Fulke himself to spy outhis new lands which our King hath promised him if he can bring proof of mytreason."
'"How dost thou know?" said Hugh.
'"Because that is what I would do if I were Fulke, but _I_ should havebrought more men. My roan horse to your old shoes," said he, "Fulke bringsme the King's Summons to leave Pevensey and join the war." He sucked inhis cheeks and drummed on the edge of the shaft, where the water soundedall hollow.
'"Shall we go?" said I.
'"Go! At this time of year? Stark madness," said he. "Take _me_ fromPevensey to fisk and flyte through fern and forest, and in three daysRobert's keels would be lying on Pevensey mud with ten thousand men! Whowould stop them--Fulke?"
'The horns blew without, and anon Fulke cried the King's Summons at thegreat door that De Aquila with all men and horse should join the King'scamp at Salisbury.
'"How did I tell you?" said De Aquila. "There are twenty Barons 'twixthere and Salisbury could give King Henry good land-service, but he hasbeen worked upon by Fulke to send south and call me--_me!_--off the Gate ofEngland, when his enemies stand about to batter it in. See that Fulke'smen lie in the big south barn," said he. "Give them drink, and when Fulkehas eaten we will drink in my chamber. The Great Hall is too cold for oldbones."
'As soon as he was off-horse Fulke went to the chapel with Gilbert to givethanks for his safe coming, and when he had eaten--he was a fat man, androlled his eyes greedily at our good roast Sussex wheatears--we led him tothe little upper chamber, whither Gilbert had already gone with theManor-roll. I remember when Fulke heard the tide blow and whistle in theshaft he leaped back, and his long down-turned stirrup-shoes caught in therushes and he stumbled, so that Jehan behind him found it easy to knockhis head against the wall.'
'Did you know it was going to happen?' said Dan.
'Assuredly,' said Sir Richard, with a sweet smile. 'I put my foot on hissword and plucked away his dagger, but he knew not whether it was day ornight for a while. He lay rolling his eyes and bubbling with his mouth,and Jehan roped him like a calf. He was cased all in that new-fangledarmour which we call lizard-mail. Not rings like my hauberk here'--SirRichard tapped his chest--'but little pieces of dagger-proof steeloverlapping on stout leather. We stripped it off (no need to spoil goodharness by wetting it), and in the neck-piece De Aquila found the samefolden piece of parchment which we had put back under the hearthstone.
'At this Gilbert would have run out. I laid my hand on his shoulder. Itsufficed. He fell to trembling and praying on his beads.
'"Gilbert," said De Aquila, "here be more notable sayings and doings ofour Lord of Pevensey for thee to write down. Take penner and inkhorn,Gilbert. We cannot all be Sacristans of Battle."
'Said Fulke from the floor, "Ye have bound a King's messenger. Pevenseyshall burn for this!"
'"Maybe. I have seen it besieged once," said De Aquila, "but heart up,Fulke. I promise thee that thou shalt be hanged in the middle of theflames at the end of that siege, if I have to share my last loaf withthee; and that is more than Odo would have done when we starved out himand Mortain."
'Then Fulke sat up and looked long and cunningly at De Aquila.
'"By the Saints," said he, "why didst thou not say thou wast on the Duke'sside at the first?"
'"Am I?" said De Aquila.
'Fulke laughed and said, "No man who serves King Henry dare do this muchto his messenger. When didst thou come over to the Duke? Let me up and wecan smooth it out together." And he smiled and becked and winked.
'"Yes, we will smooth it out," said De Aquila. He nodded to me, and Jehanand I heaved up Fulke--he was a heavy man--and lowered him into the shaft bya rope, not so as to stand on our gold, but dangling by his shoulders alittle above. It was turn of ebb, and the water came to his knees. He saidnothing, but shivered somewhat.
'Then Jehan of a sudden beat down Gilbert's wrist with his sheatheddagger, "Stop!" he said. "He swallows his beads."
'"Poison, belike," said De Aquila. "It is good for men who know too much.I have carried it these thirty years. Give me!"
'Then Gilbert wept and howled. De Aquila ran the beads through hisfingers. The last one--I have said they were large nuts--opened in twohalves on a pin, and there was a small folded parchment within. On it waswritten: "_The Old Dog goes to Salisbury to be beaten. I have his Kennel.Come quickly._"
'"This is worse than poison," said De Aquila, very softly, and sucked inhis cheeks. Then Gilbert grovelled in the rushes, and told us all he knew.The letter, as we guessed, was from Fulke to the Duke (and not the firstthat had passed between them); Fulke had given it to Gilbert in thechapel, and Gilbert thought to have taken it by morning to a certainfishing-boat at the wharf, which trafficked between Pevensey and theFrench shore. Gilbert was a false fellow, but he found time between hisquakings and shakings to swear that the master of the boat knew nothing ofthe matter.
'"He hath called me shaved head," said Gilbert, "and he hath thrownhaddock-guts at me; but for all that, he is no traitor."
'"I will have no clerk of mine mishandled or miscalled," said De Aquila."That seaman shall be whipped at his own mast. Write me first a letter,and thou shalt bear it, with the order for the whipping, to-morrow to theboat."
'At this Gilbert would have kissed De Aquila's hand--he had not hoped tolive until the morning--and when he trembled less he wrote a letter as fromFulke to the Duke saying that the Kennel, which signified Pevensey, wasshut, and that the old Dog (which was De Aquila) sat outside it, and,moreover, that all had been betrayed.
'"Write to any man that all is betrayed," said De Aquila, "and even thePope himself would sleep uneasily. Eh, Jehan? If one told thee all wasbetrayed, what wouldst thou do?"
'"I would run away," said Jehan. "It might be true."
'"Well said," quoth De Aquila. "Write, Gilbert, that Montgomery, the greatEarl, hath made his peace with the King, and that little D'Arcy, whom Ihate, hath been hanged by the heels. We will give Robert full measure tochew upon. Write also that Fulke himself is sick to death of a dropsy."
'"Nay?" cried Fulke, hanging in the well-shaft. "Drown me out of hand, butdo not make a jest of me."
'"Jest? I?" said De Aquila. "I am but fighting for life and lands with apen, as thou hast shown me, Fulke."
'Then Fulke groaned, for he was cold, and, "Let me confess," said he.
'"Now, this is right neighbourly," said De Aquila, leaning over the shaft."Thou hast read my sayings and doings--or at least the first part ofthem--and thou art minded to repay me with thy own doin
gs and sayings. Takepenner and inkhorn, Gilbert. Here is work that will not irk thee."
'"Let my men go without hurt, and I will confess my treason against theKing," said Fulke.
'"Now, why has he grown so tender of his men of a sudden?" said Hugh tome; for Fulke had no name for mercy to his men. Plunder he gave them, butpity, none.
'"Te! Te!" said De Aquila. "Thy treason was all confessed long ago byGilbert. It would be enough to hang Montgomery himself."
'"Nay; but spare my men," said Fulke; and we heard him splash like a fishin a pond, for the tide was rising.
'"All in good time," said De Aquila. "The night is young; the wine is old;and we need only the merry tale. Begin the story of thy life since whenthou wast a lad at Tours. Tell it nimbly!"
'"Ye shame me to my soul," said Fulke.
'"Then I have done what neither King nor Duke could do," said De Aquila."But begin, and forget nothing."
'"Send thy man away," said Fulke.
'"That much I can," said De Aquila. "But, remember, I am like the Danes'King; I cannot turn the tide."
'"How long will it rise?" said Fulke, and splashed anew.
'"For three hours," said De Aquila. "Time to tell all thy good deeds.Begin, and Gilbert--I have heard thou art somewhat careless--do not twisthis words from their true meaning."
'So--fear of death in the dark being upon him--Fulke began; and Gilbert, notknowing what his fate might be, wrote it word by word. I have heard manytales, but never heard I aught to match the tale of Fulke, his black life,as Fulke told it hollowly, hanging in the shaft.'
'Was it bad?' said Dan, awestruck.
'Beyond belief,' Sir Richard answered. 'None the less, there was that init which forced even Gilbert to laugh. We three laughed till we ached. Atone place his teeth so chattered that we could not well hear, and wereached him down a cup of wine. Then he warmed to it, and smoothly set outall his shifts, malices, and treacheries, his extreme boldnesses (he wasdesperate bold); his retreats, shufflings, and counterfeitings (he wasalso inconceivably a coward); his lack of gear and honour; his despair attheir loss; his remedies, and well-coloured contrivances. Yes, he wavedthe filthy rags of his life before us, as though they had been some proudbanner. When he ceased, we saw by torches that the tide stood at thecorners of his mouth, and he breathed strongly through his nose.
'We had him out, and rubbed him; we wrapped him in a cloak, and gave himwine, and we leaned and looked upon him the while he drank. He wasshivering, but shameless.
'Of a sudden we heard Jehan at the stairway wake, but a boy pushed pasthim, and stood before us, the hall rushes in his hair, all slubbered withsleep. "My father! My father! I dreamed of treachery," he cried, andbabbled thickly.
'"There is no treachery here," said Fulke. "Go," and the boy turned, eventhen not fully awake, and Jehan led him by the hand to the Great Hall.
'"Thy only son!" said De Aquila, "Why didst thou bring the child here?"
'"He is my heir. I dared not trust him to my brother," said Fulke, and nowhe was ashamed. De Aquila said nothing, but sat weighing a wine cup in histwo hands--thus. Anon, Fulke touched him on the knee.
'"Let the boy escape to Normandy," said he, "and do with me at thypleasure. Yea, hang me to-morrow, with my letter to Robert round my neck,but let the boy go."
'"Be still," said De Aquila. "I think for England."
'So we waited what our Lord of Pevensey should devise; and the sweat randown Fulke's forehead.
'At last said De Aquila: "I am too old to judge, or to trust any man. I donot covet thy lands, as thou hast coveted mine; and whether thou art anybetter or any worse than any other black Angevin thief, it is for thy Kingto find out. Therefore, go back to thy King, Fulke."
'"And thou wilt say nothing of what has passed?" said Fulke.
'"Why should I? Thy son will stay with me. If the King calls me again toleave Pevensey, which I must guard against England's enemies; if the Kingsends his men against me for a traitor; or if I hear that the King in hisbed thinks any evil of me or my two knights, thy son will be hanged fromout this window, Fulke."'
'But it hadn't anything to do with his son,' cried Una, startled.
'How could we have hanged Fulke?' said Sir Richard. 'We needed him to makeour peace with the King. He would have betrayed half England for the boy'ssake. Of that we were sure.'
'I don't understand,' said Una. 'But I think it was simply awful.'
'So did not Fulke. He was well pleased.'
'What? Because his son was going to be killed?'
'Nay. Because De Aquila had shown him how he might save the boy's life andhis own lands and honours. "I will do it," he said. "I swear I will do it.I will tell the King thou art no traitor, but the most excellent, valiant,and perfect of us all. Yes, I will save thee."
'De Aquila looked still into the bottom of the cup, rolling the wine-dregsto and fro.
'"Ay," he said. "If I had a son, I would, I think, save him. But do not byany means tell me how thou wilt go about it."
'"Nay, nay," said Fulke, nodding his bald head wisely. "That is my secret.But rest at ease, De Aquila, no hair of thy head nor rood of thy landshall be forfeited," and he smiled like one planning great good deeds.
'"And henceforward," said De Aquila, "I counsel thee to serve onemaster--not two."
'"What?" said Fulke. "Can I work no more honest trading between the twosides these troublous times?"
'"Serve Robert or the King--England or Normandy," said De Aquila. "I carenot which it is, but make thy choice here and now."
'"The King, then," said Fulke, "for I see he is better served than Robert.Shall I swear it?"
'"No need," said De Aquila, and he laid his hand on the parchments whichGilbert had written. "It shall be some part of my Gilbert's penance tocopy out the savoury tale of thy life, till we have made ten, twenty, anhundred, maybe, copies. How many cattle, think you, would the Bishop ofTours give for that tale? Or thy brother? Or the Monks of Blois? Minstrelswill turn it into songs which thy own Saxon serfs shall sing behind theirplough-stilts, and men-at-arms riding through thy Norman towns. From hereto Rome, Fulke, men will make very merry over that tale, and how Fulketold it, hanging in a well, like a drowned puppy. This shall be thypunishment, if ever I find thee double-dealing with thy King any more.Meantime, the parchments stay here with thy son. Him I will return to theewhen thou hast made my peace with the King. The parchments never."
'Fulke hid his face and groaned.
'"Bones of the Saints!" said De Aquila, laughing. "The pen cuts deep. Icould never have fetched that grunt out of thee with any sword."
'"But so long as I do not anger thee, my tale will be secret?" said Fulke.
'"Just so long. Does that comfort thee, Fulke?" said De Aquila.
'"What other comfort have ye left me?" he said, and of a sudden he wepthopelessly like a child, dropping his face on his knees.'
'Poor Fulke,' said Una.
'I pitied him also,' said Sir Richard.
'"After the spur, corn," said De Aquila, and he threw Fulke three wedgesof gold that he had taken from our little chest by the bed-place.
'"If I had known this," said Fulke, catching his breath, "I would neverhave lifted hand against Pevensey. Only lack of this yellow stuff has mademe so unlucky in my dealings."
'It was dawn then, and they stirred in the Great Hall below. We sent downFulke's mail to be scoured, and when he rode away at noon under his ownand the King's banner very splendid and stately did he show. He smoothedhis long beard, and called his son to his stirrup and kissed him. DeAquila rode with him as far as the New Mill landward. We thought the nighthad been all a dream.'
'But did he make it right with the King?' Dan asked. 'About your not beingtraitors, I mean?'
Sir Richard smiled. 'The King sent no second summons to Pevensey, nor didhe ask why De Aquila had not obeyed the first. Yes, that was Fulke's work.I know not how he did it, but it was well and swiftly done.'
'Then you didn't do anything to his son?' said
Una.
'The boy? Oh, he was an imp. He turned the keep doors out of dortoirswhile we had him. He sang foul songs, learned in the Barons' camps--poorfool; he set the hounds fighting in hall; he lit the rushes to drive out,as he said, the fleas; he drew his dagger on Jehan, who threw him down thestairway for it; and he rode his horse through crops and among sheep. Butwhen we had beaten him, and showed him wolf and deer, he followed us oldmen like a young, eager hound, and called us "uncle." His father came thesummer's end to take him away, but the boy had no lust to go, because ofthe otter-hunting, and he stayed on till the fox-hunting. I gave him abittern's claw to bring him good luck at shooting. An imp, if ever therewas!'
'And what happened to Gilbert?' said Dan.
'Not even a whipping. De Aquila said he would sooner a clerk, howeverfalse, that knew the Manor-roll than a fool, however true, that must betaught his work afresh. Moreover, after that night I think Gilbert lovedas much as he feared De Aquila. At least he would not leave us--not evenwhen Vivian, the King's Clerk, would have made him Sacristan of BattleAbbey. A false fellow, but, in his fashion, bold.'
'Did Robert ever land in Pevensey after all?' Dan went on.
'We guarded the coast too well while Henry was fighting his Barons; andthree or four years later, when England had peace, Henry crossed toNormandy and showed his brother some work at Tenchebrai that cured Robertof fighting. Many of Henry's men sailed from Pevensey to that war. Fulkecame, I remember, and we all four lay in the little chamber once again,and drank together. De Aquila was right. One should not judge men. Fulkewas merry. Yes, always merry--with a catch in his breath.'
'And what did you do afterwards?' said Una.
'We talked together of times past. That is all men can do when they growold, little maid.'
The bell for tea rang faintly across the meadows. Dan lay in the bows ofthe _Golden Hind_; Una in the stern, the book of verses open in her lap,was reading from 'The Slave's Dream':--
'Again in the mist and shadow of sleep He saw his native land.'
'I don't know when you began that,' said Dan, sleepily.
On the middle thwart of the boat, beside Una's sun-bonnet, lay an Oakleaf, an Ash leaf, and a Thorn leaf, that must have dropped down from thetrees above; and the brook giggled as though it had just seen some joke.
Puck of Pook's Hill Page 11