Quentin Durward

by Walter Scott

  Hayraddin, never a welcome sight, was odious from his late treachery,and Quentin sternly asked him why he dared take the freedom to touch aChristian and a gentleman?

  "Simply," answered the Bohemian, "because I wished to know if theChristian gentleman had lost his feeling as well as his eyes and ears.I have stood speaking to you these five minutes, and you have staredon that scrap of yellow paper, as if it were a spell to turn you into astatue, and had already wrought half its purpose."

  "Well, what dost thou want? Speak, and begone!"

  "I want what all men want, though few are satisfied with it," saidHayraddin, "I want my due, ten crowns of gold for guiding the ladieshither."

  "With what face darest thou ask any guerdon beyond my sparing thyworthless life?" said Durward, fiercely, "thou knowest that it was thypurpose to have betrayed them on the road."

  "But I did not betray them," said Hayraddin, "if I had, I would haveasked no guerdon from you or from them, but from him whom their keepingon the right hand side of the river might have benefited. The party thatI have served is the party who must pay me."

  "Thy guerdon perish with thee, then, traitor," said Quentin, telling outthe money. "Get thee to the Boar of Ardennes, or to the devil! but keephereafter out of my sight, lest I send thee thither before thy time."

  "The Boar of Ardennes!" repeated the Bohemian, with a stronger emotionof surprise than his features usually expressed--"it was then no vagueguess--no general suspicion--which made you insist on changing theroad?--Can it be--are there really in other lands arts of prophecy moresure than those of our wandering tribes? The willow tree under whichwe spoke could tell no tales. But no--no--no--dolt that I was!--I haveit--I have it!--the willow by the brook near yonder convent--I saw youlook towards it as you passed it, about half a mile from yon hive ofdrones--that could not indeed speak, but it might hide one who couldhear! I will hold my councils in an open plain henceforth, not a bunchof thistles shall be near me for a Scot to shroud amongst.--Ha! ha! theScot hath beat the Zingaro at his own subtle weapons. But know,Quentin Durward, that you have foiled me to the marring of thine ownfortune.--Yes! the fortune I have told thee of, from the lines on thyhand, had been richly accomplished but for thine own obstinacy."

  "By Saint. Andrew," said Quentin, "thy impudence makes me laugh in spiteof myself.--How, or in what, should thy successful villainy have been ofservice to me? I heard, indeed, that you did stipulate to save my life,which condition your worthy allies would speedily have forgotten, had weonce come to blows--but in what thy betrayal of these ladies could haveserved me, but by exposing me to death or captivity, is a matter beyondhuman brains to conjecture."

  "No matter thinking of it, then," said Hayraddin, "for I mean still tosurprise you with my gratitude. Had you kept back my hire, I should haveheld that we were quit, and had left you to your own foolish guidance.As it is, I remain your debtor for yonder matter on the banks of theCher."

  "Methinks I have already taken out the payment in cursing and abusingthee," said Quentin.

  "Hard words, or kind ones," said the Zingaro, "are but wind, whichmake no weight in the balance. Had you struck me, indeed, instead ofthreatening--"

  "I am likely enough to take out payment in that way, if you provoke melonger."

  "I would not advise it," said the Zingaro, "such payment, made by a rashhand, might exceed the debt, and unhappily leave a balance on your side,which I am not one to forget or forgive. And now farewell, but not for along space--I go to bid adieu to the Ladies of Croye."

  "Thou?" said Quentin, in astonishment--"thou be admitted to the presenceof the ladies, and here, where they are in a manner recluses under theprotection of the Bishop's sister, a noble canoness? It is impossible."

  "Marthon, however, waits to conduct me to their presence," said theZingaro, with a sneer, "and I must pray your forgiveness if I leave yousomething abruptly."

  He turned as if to depart, but instantly coming back, said, with a toneof deep and serious emphasis, "I know your hopes--they are daring, yetnot vain if I aid them. I know your fears, they should teach prudence,not timidity. Every woman may be won. A count is but a nickname, whichwill befit Quentin as well as the other nickname of duke befits Charles,or that of king befits Louis."

  Ere Durward could reply, the Bohemian had left the hall. Quentininstantly followed, but, better acquainted than the Scot with thepassages of the house, Hayraddin kept the advantage which he hadgotten, and the pursuer lost sight of him as he descended a small backstaircase. Still Durward followed, though without exact consciousness ofhis own purpose in doing so. The staircase terminated by a door openinginto the alley of a garden, in which he again beheld the Zingarohastening down a pleached walk.

  On two sides, the garden was surrounded by the buildings of thecastle--a huge old pile, partly castellated, and partly resembling anecclesiastical building, on the other two sides, the enclosure was ahigh embattled wall. Crossing the alleys of the garden to another partof the building, where a postern door opened behind a large massivebuttress, overgrown with ivy, Hayraddin looked back, and waved his handin a signal of an exulting farewell to his follower, who saw thatin effect the postern door was opened by Marthon, and that the vileBohemian was admitted into the precincts, as he naturally concluded,of the apartment of the Countesses of Croye. Quentin bit his lips withindignation, and blamed himself severely that he had not made the ladiessensible of the full infamy of Hayraddin's character, and acquaintedwith his machinations against their safety. The arrogating manner inwhich the Bohemian had promised to back his suit added to his anger andhis disgust, and he felt as if even the hand of the Countess Isabellewould be profaned, were it possible to attain it by such patronage.

  "But it is all a deception," he said, "a turn of his base, jugglingartifice. He has procured access to those ladies upon some falsepretence, and with some mischievous intention. It is well I have learnedwhere they lodge. I will watch Marthon, and solicit an interview withthem, were it but to place them on their guard. It is hard that I mustuse artifice and brook delay, when such as he have admittance openlyand without scruple. They shall find, however, that though I am excludedfrom their presence, Isabelle's safety is the chief subject of myvigilance."

  While the young lover was thus meditating, an aged gentleman of theBishop's household approached him from the same door by which he hadhimself entered the garden, and made him aware, though with the greatestcivility of manner, that the garden was private, and reserved only forthe use of the Bishop and guests of the very highest distinction.

  Quentin heard him repeat this information twice ere he put the properconstruction upon it, and then starting as from a reverie, he bowed andhurried out of the garden, the official person following him all theway, and overwhelming him with formal apologies for the necessarydischarge of his duty. Nay, so pertinacious was he in his attempts toremove the offence which he conceived Durward to have taken, thathe offered to bestow his own company upon him, to contribute to hisentertainment until Quentin, internally cursing his formal foppery,found no better way of escape, then pretending a desire of visitingthe neighbouring city, and setting off thither at such a round paceas speedily subdued all desire in the gentleman usher to accompany himfarther than the drawbridge. In a few minutes, Quentin was within thewalls of the city of Liege, then one of the richest in Flanders, and ofcourse in the world.

  Melancholy, even love melancholy, is not so deeply seated, at leastin minds of a manly and elastic character, as the soft enthusiastswho suffer under it are fond of believing. It yields to unexpected andstriking impressions upon the senses, to change of place, to such scenesas create new trains of association, and to the influence of the busyhum of mankind. In a few minutes, Quentin's attention was as muchengrossed by the variety of objects presented in rapid succession by thebusy streets of Liege, as if there had been neither a Countess Isabellenor a Bohemian in the world.

  The lofty houses--the stately, though narrow and gloomy streets--thesplendid display of the richest goods and
most gorgeous armour in thewarehouses and shops around--the walks crowded by busy citizens of everydescription, passing and repassing with faces of careful importance oreager bustle--the huge wains, which transported to and fro the subjectsof export and import, the former consisting of broadcloths and serge,arms of all kinds, nails and iron work, while the latter comprehendedevery article of use or luxury, intended either for the consumption ofan opulent city, or received in barter, and destined to be transportedelsewhere--all these objects combined to form an engrossing pictureof wealth, bustle, and splendour, to which Quentin had been hitherto astranger. He admired also the various streams and canals, drawn fromand communicating with the Maes, which, traversing the city in variousdirections, offered to every quarter the commercial facilities of watercarriage, and he failed not to hear a mass in the venerable old Churchof Saint Lambert, said to have been founded in the eighth century.

  It was upon leaving this place of worship that Quentin began to observethat he, who had been hitherto gazing on all around him with theeagerness of unrestrained curiosity, was himself the object of attentionto several groups of substantial looking burghers, who seemed assembledto look upon him as he left the church, and amongst whom arose a buzzand whisper, which spread from one party to another, while the number ofgazers continued to augment rapidly, and the eyes of each who added toit were eagerly directed to Quentin with a stare which expressed muchinterest and curiosity, mingled with a certain degree of respect.

  At length he now formed the centre of a considerable crowd, which yetyielded before him while he continued to move forward, while those whofollowed or kept pace with him studiously avoided pressing on him, orimpeding his motions. Yet his situation was too embarrassing to be longendured, without making some attempt to extricate himself and to obtainsome explanation.

  Quentin looked around him, and fixing upon a jolly, stout made,respectable man, whom, by his velvet cloak and gold chain, he concludedto be a burgher of eminence, and perhaps a magistrate, he asked himwhether he saw anything particular in his appearance, to attract publicattention in a degree so unusual? or whether it was the ordinary customof the people of Liege thus to throng around strangers who chanced tovisit their city?

  "Surely not, good seignior," answered the burgher, "the Liegeois areneither so idly curious as to practise such a custom, nor is thereanything in your dress or appearance saving that which is most welcometo this city, and which our townsmen are both delighted to see anddesirous to honour."

  "This sounds very polite, worthy sir," said Quentin, "but, by the Crossof Saint Andrew, I cannot even guess at your meaning."

  "Your oath," answered the merchant of Liege, "as well as your accent,convinces me that we are right in our conjecture."

  "By my patron Saint Quentin!" said Durward, "I am farther off from yourmeaning than ever."

  "There again now," rejoined the Liegeois, looking, as he spoke, mostprovokingly, yet most civilly, politic and intelligent.

  "It is surely not for us to see that which you, worthy seignior, deem itproper to conceal: But why swear by Saint Quentin, if you would not haveme construe your meaning?--We know the good Count of Saint Paul, wholies there at present, wishes well to our cause."

  "On my life," said Quentin, "you are under some delusion.--I knownothing of Saint Paul."

  "Nay, we question you not," said the burgher, "although, hark ye--I say,hark in your ear--my name is Pavillon."

  "And what is my business with that, Seignior Pavillon?" said Quentin.

  "Nay, nothing--only methinks it might satisfy you that I amtrustworthy.--Here is my colleague Rouslaer, too."

  Rouslaer advanced, a corpulent dignitary, whose fair round belly, likea battering ram, "did shake the press before him," and who, whisperingcaution to his neighbour, said in a tone of rebuke, "You forget, goodcolleague, the place is too open--the seignior will retire to your houseor mine, and drink a glass of Rhenish and sugar, and then we shallhear more of our good friend and ally, whom we love with all our honestFlemish hearts."

  "I have no news for any of you," said Quentin, impatiently, "I willdrink no Rhenish, and I only desire of you, as men of account andrespectability, to disperse this idle crowd, and allow a stranger toleave your town as quietly as he came into it."

  "Nay, then, sir," said Rouslaer, "since you stand so much on yourincognito, and with us, too, who are men of confidence, let me askyou roundly, wherefore wear you the badge of your company if you wouldremain unknown in Liege."

  "What badge, and what order?" said Quentin, "you look like reverend menand grave citizens, yet, on my soul you are either mad yourselves, ordesire to drive me so."

  "Sapperment!" said the other burgher, "this youth would make SaintLambert swear! Why, who wear bonnets with the Saint Andrew's cross andfleur de lys, save the Scottish Archers of King Louis's Guards?"

  "And supposing I am an Archer of the Scottish Guard, why should youmake a wonder of my wearing the badge of my company?" said Quentinimpatiently.

  "He has avowed it, he has avowed it!" said Rouslaer and Pavillon,turning to the assembled burghers in attitudes of congratulation, withwaving arms, extended palms, and large round faces radiating withglee. "He hath avowed himself an Archer of Louis's Guard--of Louis, theguardian of the liberties of Liege!"

  A general shout and cry now arose from the multitude, in which weremingled the various sounds of "Long live Louis of France! Long livethe Scottish Guard! Long live the valiant Archer! Our liberties,our privileges, or death! No imposts! Long live the valiant Boar ofArdennes! Down with Charles of Burgundy! and confusion to Bourbon andhis bishopric!" Half stunned by the noise, which began anew in onequarter so soon as it ceased in another, rising and falling like thebillows of the sea, and augmented by thousands of voices which roared inchorus from distant streets and market places, Quentin had yet time toform a conjecture concerning the meaning of the tumult, and a plan forregulating his own conduct:

  He had forgotten that, after his skirmish with Orleans and Dunois, oneof his comrades had, at Lord Crawford's command, replaced the morion,cloven by the sword of the latter, with one of the steel lined bonnetswhich formed a part of the proper and well known equipment of theScottish Guards. That an individual of this body, which was always keptvery close to Louis's person, should have appeared in the streets of acity whose civil discontents had been aggravated by the agents of thatKing, was naturally enough interpreted by the burghers of Liege into adetermination on the part of Louis openly to assist their cause, andthe apparition of an individual archer was magnified into a pledge ofimmediate and active support from Louis--nay, into an assurance that hisauxiliary forces were actually entering the town at one or other, thoughno one could distinctly tell which, of the city gates.

  To remove a conviction so generally adopted, Quentin easily saw wasimpossible--nay, that any attempt to undeceive men so obstinatelyprepossessed in their belief, would be attended with personal risk,which, in this case, he saw little use of incurring. He thereforehastily resolved to temporize, and to get free the best way he could,and this resolution he formed while they were in the act of conductinghim to the Stadthouse [town house], where the notables of the town werefast assembling, in order to hear the tidings which he was presumed tohave brought, and to regale him with a splendid banquet.

  In spite of all his opposition, which was set down to modesty, he was onevery side surrounded by the donors of popularity, the unsavoury tideof which now floated around him. His two burgomaster friends, who wereSchoppen, or Syndics of the city, had made fast both his arms. Beforehim, Nikkel Blok, the chief of the butchers' incorporation, hastilysummoned from his office in the shambles, brandished his death doingaxe, yet smeared with blood and brains, with a courage and grace whichbrantwein [spirits] alone could inspire. Behind him came the tall, lean,rawboned, very drunk, and very patriotic figure of Claus Hammerlein,president of the mystery of the workers in iron, and followed by atleast a thousand unwashed artificers of his class. Weavers, nailers,ropemakers, artisans of every degree
and calling, thronged forward tojoin the procession from every gloomy and narrow street. Escape seemed adesperate and impossible adventure.

  In this dilemma, Quentin appealed to Rouslaer, who held one arm, and toPavillon, who had secured the other, and who were conducting him forwardat the head of the ovation, of which he had so unexpectedly becomethe principal object. He hastily acquainted them with his havingthoughtlessly adopted the bonnet of the Scottish Guard, on an accidenthaving occurred to the headpiece in which he had proposed to travel, heregretted that, owing to this circumstance, and the sharp wit with whichthe Liegeois drew the natural inference of his quality, and thepurpose of his visit, these things had been publicly discovered, andhe intimated that, if just now conducted to the Stadthouse, he mightunhappily feel himself under the necessity of communicating to theassembled notables certain matters which he was directed by the Kingto reserve for the private ears of his excellent gossips, MeinheersRouslaer and Pavillon of Liege.

  This last hint operated like magic on the two citizens, who were themost distinguished leaders of the insurgent burghers, and were, like alldemagogues of their kind, desirous to keep everything within theirown management, so far as possible. They therefore hastily agreed thatQuentin should leave the town for the time, and return by night toLiege, and converse with them privately in the house of Rouslaer, nearthe gate opposite to Schonwaldt. Quentin hesitated not to tell them thathe was at present residing in the Bishop's palace, under pretence ofbearing despatches from the French Court, although his real errand was,as they had well conjectured, designed to the citizens of Liege,and this tortuous mode of conducting a communication as well asthe character and rank of the person to whom it was supposed to beintrusted, was so consonant to the character of Louis, as neither toexcite doubt nor surprise.

  Almost immediately after this eclaircissernent [explanation] wascompleted, the progress of the multitude brought them opposite to thedoor of Pavillon's house, in one of the principal streets, but whichcommunicated from behind with the Maes by means of a garden, as wellas an extensive manufactory of tan pits, and other conveniences fordressing hides, for the patriotic burgher was a felt dresser or currier.

  It was natural that Pavillon should desire to do the honours of hisdwelling to the supposed envoy of Louis, and a halt before his houseexcited no surprise on the part of the multitude, who, on the contrary,greeted Meinheer Pavillon with a loud vivat [long live], as he usheredin his distinguished guest. Quentin speedily laid aside his remarkablebonnet for the cap of a felt maker, and flung a cloak over his otherapparel. Pavillon then furnished him with a passport to pass thegates of the city, and to return by night or day as should suit hisconvenience, and lastly, committed him to the charge of his daughter,a fair and smiling Flemish lass, with instructions how he was to bedisposed of, while he himself hastened back to his colleague to amusetheir friends at the Stadthouse with the best excuses which they couldinvent for the disappearance of King Louis's envoy. We cannot, as thefootman says in the play, recollect the exact nature of the lie whichthe bell wethers told the flock, but no task is so easy as that ofimposing upon a multitude whose eager prejudices have more than halfdone the business ere the impostor has spoken a word.

  The worthy burgess was no sooner gone than his plump daughter, Trudchen,with many a blush, and many a wreathed smile, which suited very prettilywith lips like cherries, laughing blue eyes, and a skin transparentlypure--escorted the handsome stranger through the pleached alleys ofthe Sieur Pavillon's garden, down to the water side, and there saw himfairly embarked in a boat, which two stout Flemings, in their trunkhose, fur caps, and many buttoned jerkins, had got in readiness with asmuch haste as their low country nature would permit.

  As the pretty Trudchen spoke nothing but German, Quentin--nodisparagement to his loyal affection to the Countess of Croye--couldonly express his thanks by a kiss on those same cherry lips, which wasvery gallantly bestowed, and accepted with all modest gratitude, forgallants with a form and face like our Scottish Archer were not ofeveryday occurrence among the bourgeoisie of Liege [the French middleclass. The term has come to mean the middle class of any country,especially those engaged in trade].

  [The adventure of Quentin at Liege may be thought overstrained, yet itis extraordinary what slight circumstances will influence the publicmind in a moment of doubt and uncertainty. Most readers must rememberthat, when the Dutch were on the point of rising against the Frenchyoke, their zeal for liberation received a strong impulse from thelanding of a person in a British volunteer uniform, whose presence,though that of a private individual, was received as a guarantee ofsuccours from England. S.]

  While the boat was rowed up the sluggish waters of the Maes, and passedthe defences of the town, Quentin had time enough to reflect whataccount he ought to give of his adventure in Liege, when he returned tothe Bishop's palace of Schonwaldt, and disdaining alike to betray anyperson who had reposed confidence in him, although by misapprehension,or to conceal from the hospitable Prelate the mutinous state of hiscapital, he resolved to confine himself to so general an account asmight put the Bishop upon his guard, while it should point out noindividual to his vengeance.

  He was landed from the boat, within half a mile of the castle, andrewarded his rowers with a guilder, to their great satisfaction. Yet,short as was the space which divided him from Schonwaldt, the castlebell had tolled for dinner, and Quentin found, moreover, that he hadapproached the castle on a different side from that of the principalentrance, and that to go round would throw his arrival considerablylater. He therefore made straight towards the side that was nearest tohim, as he discerned that it presented an embattled wall, probably thatof the little garden already noticed, with a postern opening upon themoat, and a skiff moored by the postern, which might serve, he thought,upon summons, to pass him over. As he approached, in hopes to make hisentrance this way, the postern opened, a man came out, and, jumping intothe boat, made his way to the farther side of the moat, and then, witha long pole, pushed the skiff back towards the place where he hadembarked. As he came near, Quentin discerned that this person was theBohemian, who, avoiding him, as was not difficult, held a different pathtowards Liege, and was presently out of his ken.

  Here was a new subject for meditation. Had this vagabond heathen beenall this while with the Ladies of Croye, and for what purpose shouldthey so far have graced him with their presence? Tormented with thisthought, Durward became doubly determined to seek an explanation withthem, for the purpose at once of laying bare the treachery of Hayraddin,and announcing to them the perilous state in which their protector, theBishop, was placed, by the mutinous state of his town of Liege.

  As Quentin thus resolved, he entered the castle by the principal gate,and found that part of the family who assembled for dinner in thegreat hall, including the Bishop's attendant clergy, officers of thehousehold, and strangers below the rank of the very first nobility, werealready placed at their meal. A seat at the upper end of the boardhad, however, been reserved beside the Bishop's domestic chaplain, whowelcomed the stranger with the old college jest of Sero venientibus ossa[the bones for those who come late], while he took care so to load hisplate with dainties, as to take away all appearance of that tendency toreality, which, in Quentin's country, is said to render a joke eitherno joke, or at best an unpalatable one ["A sooth boord (true joke) is noboord," says the Scot. S.].

  In vindicating himself from the suspicion of ill breeding, Quentinbriefly described the tumult which had been occasioned in the city byhis being discovered to belong to the Scottish Archer Guard of Louis,and endeavoured to give a ludicrous turn to the narrative by saying thathe had been with difficulty extricated by a fat burgher of Liege and hispretty daughter.

  But the company were too much interested in the story to taste the jest.All operations of the table were suspended while Quentin told his tale,and when he had ceased, there was a solemn pause, which was only brokenby the Majordomo's saying in a low and melancholy tone, "I would to Godthat we saw those hundred lances
of Burgundy!"

  "Why should you think so deeply on it?" said Quentin. "You have manysoldiers here, whose trade is arms, and your antagonists are only therabble of a disorderly city, who will fly before the first flutter of abanner with men at arms arrayed beneath it."

  "You do not know the men of Liege," said the Chaplain, "of whom it maybe said, that, not even excepting those of Ghent, they are at oncethe fiercest and the most untameable in Europe. Twice has the Duke ofBurgundy chastised them for their repeated revolts against their Bishop,and twice hath he suppressed them with much severity, abridged theirprivileges, taken away their banners, and established rights and claimsto himself which were not before competent over a free city of theEmpire.--Nay, the last time he defeated them with much slaughter nearSaint Tron, where Liege lost nearly six thousand men, what with thesword, what with those drowned in the flight, and thereafter, to disablethem from farther mutiny, Duke Charles refused to enter at any of thegates which they had surrendered, but, beating to the ground fortycubits' breadth of their city wall, marched into Liege as a conquerorwith visor closed, and lance in rest, at the head of his chivalry, bythe breach which he had made. Nay, well were the Liegeois then assured,that, but for the intercession of his father, Duke Philip the Good, thisCharles, then called Count of Charalois, would have given their townup to spoil. And yet, with all these fresh recollections, with theirbreaches unrepaired, and their arsenals scarcely supplied, the sight ofan archer's bonnet is sufficient again to stir them to uproar. May Godamend all! but I fear there will be bloody work between so fierce apopulation and so fiery a Sovereign, and I would my excellent and kindmaster had a see of lesser dignity and more safety, for his mitre islined with thorns instead of ermine. This much I say to you, SeigniorStranger, to make you aware that, if your affairs detain you not atSchonwaldt, it is a place from which each man of sense should departas speedily as possible. I apprehend that your ladies are of the sameopinion, for one of the grooms who attended them on the route has beensent back by them to the Court of France with letters, which doubtlessare intended to announce their going in search of a safer asylum."