by Various
CHAPTER XXII--HOW NORMAN LESLIE FARED IN PARIS TOWN
"Norman, my lad, all our fortunes are made," said Randal to me when wewere left alone. "There will be gilt spurs and gold for every one of us,and the pick of the plunder."
"I like it not," I answered; whereon he caught me rudely by bothshoulders, looking close into my face, so that the fume of the wine hehad been drinking reached my nostrils.
"Is a Leslie turning recreant?" he asked in a low voice. "A pretty taleto tell in the kingdom of Fife!"
I stood still, my heart very hot with anger, and said no word, while hisgrip closed on me.
"Leave hold," I cried at last, and I swore an oath, may the Saintsforgive me,--"I will not go!"
He loosed his grasp on me, and struck one hand hard into the other.
"That I should see this, and have to tell it!" he said, and stepping tothe table, he drank like one thirsty, and then fell to pacing thechamber. He seemed to be thinking slowly, as he wiped and plucked at hisbeard.
"What is it that ails you?" he asked. "Look you, this onfall andstratagem of war may not miscarry. Perdition take the fool, it is safe!"
"Have I been seeking safety since you knew me?" I asked.
"Verily no, and therefore I wonder at you the more; but you have beenlong sick, and men's minds are changeful. Consider the thing, nom Dieu!If there be no two lights shown from the mill, we step back silently, andall is as it was; the English have thought worse of their night onfall,or the Carmelite's message was ruse de guerre. But if we see the twolights, then the hundred English are attempting the taking of the mill;the St. Denis Gate is open for their return, and we are looked for by ourArmagnacs within Paris. We risk but a short tussle with some drowsy pock-puddings, and then the town is ours. The Gate is as strong to holdagainst an enemy from within as from without. Why, man, run to Louis deCoutes, and beg a cast suit of the Maid's; she has plenty, for she is awoman in this, that dearly she loves rich attire."
"Randal," I said, "I will go with you, and the gladdest lad in France tobe going, but I will go in my own proper guise as a man-at-arms. To wearthe raiment of the Blessed Maid, a man and a sinner like me, I will innowise consent; it is neither seemly nor honourable. Take your own way,put me under arrest if you will, and spoil my fortunes, and make me a mandisgraced, but I will not wear her holy raiment. It is not the deed of agentleman, or of a Christian."
He plucked at his beard. "I am partly with you," he said. "And yet itwere a great bourde to play off on the English, and most like to takethem and to be told of in ballad and chronicle, like one of Wallace'sonfalls. For, seeing the Pucelle, as they will deem, in our hands, theywill think all safe, and welcome us open armed. O Norman, can we donothing? Stop, will you wear another woman's short kirtle over yourcuisses and taslet? She shall be no saint, I warrant you, but, for asinner, a bonny lass and a merry. As a gentleman I deem this fairstratagem of war. If I were your own brother,--the Saints have his soulin their keeping,--I would still be of this counsel. Will you, my lad?"
He looked so sad, and yet withal so comical, that I held out my hand tohim, laughing.
"Disguise me as you will," I said, "I have gone mumming as Maid Marionbefore now, in the Robin Hood play, at St. Andrews"; and as I spoke, Isaw the tall thatched roofs of South Street, and the Priory Gates open,the budding elms above the garden wall of St. Leonard's, and all the May-day revel of a year agone pouring out into the good town.
"You speak like yourself now, bless your beardless face! Come forth," hesaid, taking a long pull at a tankard,--"that nothing might bewasted,"--and so we went to quarters, and Randal trudged off, soon comingback, laughing, with the red kirtle. Our men had been very busyfurbishing up the red cross of St. George on their breasts, and strippingthemselves of any sign of our own colours. As for my busking, never hadmaid such rough tire-women; but by one way or another, the apparel wasaccommodated, and they all said that, at a little distance of ground, theEnglish would be finely fooled, and must deem that the Maid herself wasbeing led to them captive.
It was now in the small hours of morning, dark, save for the glimmer ofstars, here and there in a cloudy sky. Father Urquhart himself went upto the roof of the mill, to say his orisons, having with him certainfaggots of pitch-wood, for lighting the beacon-fires if need were; and,as it chanced, braziers to this end stood ready on the roof, as is customon our own Border keeps.
We Scots, a hundred in all, in English colours, with three or four asprisoners, in our own badges, fared cautiously, and with no word spoken,through dewy woods, or lurking along in dry ditches where best we might,towards the St. Denis Gate of Paris. I had never been on a nightsurprise or bushment before, and I marvelled how orderly the others kept,as men used to such work, whereas I went stumbling and blindlings. Atlength, within sight of the twinkling lights of Paris, and a hundredyards or thereby off the common way, we were halted in a little wood, andbidden to lie down; no man was so much as to whisper. Some slept, Iknow, for I heard their snoring, but for my part, I never was less inlove with sleep. When the sky first grew grey, so that we could dimlysee shapes of things, we heard a light noise of marching men on the road.
"The English!" whispered he that lay next me. "Hush!" breathed Randal,and so the footsteps went by, none of us daring to stir, for fear of therustle in the leaves.
The sound soon ceased; belike they had struck off into these very fieldswherethrough we had just marched.
"Now, Robin Lindsay, climb into yonder ash-tree, and keep your eyes onthe mill and the beacon-fires," said Randal.
Robin scrambled up, not easily, because of his armour, and we waited, asit seemed, for an endless time.
"What is that sound," whispered one, "so heavy and so hoarse?"
It was my own heart beating, as if it would burst my side, but I saidnought, and even then Robin slid from the tree, as lightly as he might.He held up two fingers, without a word, for a sign that the beacons werelighted, and nodded.
"Down all," whispered Randal.
"Give them time, give them time."
So there we lay, as we must, but that was the hardest part of thewaiting, and no sound but of the fowls and wild things arousing, and thecry of sentinels from Paris walls, came to our ears.
At length Randal said, "Up all, and onwards!"
We arose, loosened our swords in their sheaths, and so crossed to theroad. We could now see Paris plainly, and were close by the farm of theMathurins, while beyond was the level land they call "Les Porcherons,"with slopes above it, and many trees.
"Now, Norman," said Randal, "when we come within clear sight of the gate,two of us shall seize you by the arms as prisoner; then we all cry 'St.George!' and set off running towards Paris. The quicker, the less timefor discovery."
So, having marched orderly and speedily, while the banks of the roadwayhid us, we set off to run, Randal and Robin gripping me when we were fullin sight of the moat, of the drawbridge (which was down), and the gate.
Then our men all cried, "St. George for England! The witch is taken!"And so running disorderly and fast we made for the Port, while Englishmen-at-arms might be plainly seen and heard, gazing, waving their hands,and shouting from the battlements of the two gate-towers. Down the roadwe ran, past certain small houses of peasants, and past a gibbet with amarauder hanging from it, just over the dry ditch.
Our feet, we three leading, with some twenty in a clump hard behind us,rang loud on the drawbridge over the dry fosse. The bridge planksquivered strangely; we were now within the gateway, when down fell theportcullis behind us, the drawbridge, creaking, flew up, a crowd of angryfaces and red crosses were pressing on us, and a blow fell on my salade,making me reel. I was held in strong arms, swords shone out above me, Istumbled on a body--it was Robin Lindsay's--I heard Randal give a curseas his blade broke on a helmet, and cry, "I yield me, rescue or norescue." Then burst forth a blast of shouts, and words of command andyells, and English curses. Cannon-shot roared overhead, and my mouth wasfull of
sulphur smoke and dust. They were firing on those of our men whohad not set foot on the drawbridge when it flew up. Soon the portcullisrose again, and the bridge fell, to let in a band of English archers,through whom our Scots were cutting their way back towards St. Denis.
Of all this I got glimpses, rather than clear sight, as the throng withinthe gateway reeled and shifted, crushing me sorely. Presently theEnglish from without trooped in, laughing and cursing, welcomed by theirfellows, and every man of them prying into my face, and gibing. It hadbeen a settled plan: we were betrayed, it was over clear, and now a harshvoice behind making me turn, I saw the wolf's face of Father Thomas underhis hood, and his yellow fangs.
"Ha! fair clerk, they that be no clerks themselves may yet hire clerks towork for them. How like you my brother, the Carmelite?"
Then I knew too well how this stratagem had all been laid by that devil,and my heart turned to water within me.
Randal was led away, but round me the crowd gathered in the open space,for I was haled into the greater gate tower beyond the wet fosse, andfrom all quarters ran soldiers, and men, women, and children of the townto mock me.
"Behold her," cried Father Thomas, climbing on a mounting-stone, as onewho would preach to the people, while the soldiers that held me laughed.
"Behold this wonderful wonder of all wonders, the miraculous Maid of theArmagnacs! She boasted that, by help of the Saints, she would be thefirst within the city, and lo! she is the first, but she has come withouther army. She is every way a miracle, mark you, for she hath a down onher chin, such as no common maidens wear; and if she would but speak afew words of counsel, methinks her tongue would sound strangely Scottishfor a Lorrainer."
"Speak, speak!" shouted the throng.
"Dogs," I cried, in French, "dogs and cowards! You shall see the Maidcloser before nightfall, and fly from her as you have fled before."
"Said I not so?" asked Brother Thomas.
"A miracle, a miracle, the Maid hath a Scots tongue in her head."
Therewith stones began to fall, but the father, holding up his hand, badethe multitude refrain.
"Harm her not, good brethren, for to-morrow this Maid shall be tried bythe ordeal of fire if that be the will of our governors. Then shall wesee if she can work miracles or not," and so he went on gibing, whilethey grinned horribly upon me. Never saw I so many vile faces of thebasest people come together, from their filthy dens in Paris. But as myeyes ran over them with loathing, I beheld a face I knew; the face ofthat violer woman who had been in our company before we came to Chinon,and lo! perched on her shoulder, chained with a chain fastened round herwrist, was Elliot's jackanapes! To see the poor beast that my lady lovedin such ill company, seemed as if it would break my heart, and my headfell on my breast.
"Ye mark, brethren and sisters, she likes not the name of the ordeal byfire," cried Brother Thomas, whereon I lifted my face again to defy him,and I saw the violer woman bend her brows, and place her finger, as itwere by peradventure, on her lips; wherefore I was silent, only gazing onthat devil, but then rang out a trumpet-note, blowing the call to arms,and from afar came an answering call, from the quarter of St. Denis.
"Carry him, or her, or whatever the spy is, into the outer gate tower,"said a Captain; "put him in fetters and manacles; lock the door and leavehim; and then to quarters. And you, friar, hold your gibing tongue; lador lass, he has borne him bravely."
Six men-at-arms he chose out to do his bidding; and while the gates werecleared of the throng, and trumpets were sounding, and church bells wererung backwards, for an alarm, I was dragged, with many a kick and blow,over the drawbridge, up the stairs of the tower, and so was thrown into astrong room beneath the battlements. There they put me in bonds, gave meof their courtesy a jug of water and a loaf of black bread by me, andthen, taking my dagger, my sword, and all that was in my pouch, they leftme with curses.
"You shall hear how the onfall goes, belike," they said, "and to-morrowshall be your judgment."
With that the door grated and rang, the key was turned in the lock, andtheir iron tread sounded on the stone stairs, going upwards. The roomwas high, narrow, and lit by a barred and stanchioned window, far abovemy reach, even if I had been unbound. I shame to say it, but I rolledover on my face and wept. This was the end of my hopes and proud heart.That they would burn me, despite their threats I scarce believed, for Ihad in nowise offended Holy Church, or in matters of the Faith, and onlyfor such heretics, or wicked dealers in art-magic, is lawfully ordainedthe death by fire. But here was I prisoner, all that I had won atOrleans would do little more than pay my own ransom; from the end of myrisk and travail I was now further away than ever.
So I mused, weeping for very rage, but then came a heavy rolling soundoverhead, as of moving wheeled pieces of ordnance. Thereon (so near isHope to us in our despair) I plucked up some heart. Ere nightfall, Parismight be in the hands of the King, and all might be well. The roar andrebound of cannon overhead told me that the fighting had begun, and now Iprayed with all my heart, that the Maid, as ever, might again bevictorious. So I lay there, listening, and heard the great artillerybellow, and the roar of guns in answer, the shouting of men, and clang ofchurch bells. Now and again the walls of the tower rang with the shockof a cannon-ball, once an arrow flew through the casement and shattereditself on the wall above my head. I scarce know why, but I dragged me tothe place where it fell, and, put the arrow-point in my bosom. Smoke ofwood and pitch darkened the light; they had come, then, to closequarters. But once more rang the rattle of guns; the whizzing rush ofstones, the smiting with axe or sword on wooden barrier and steelharness, the cries of war, "Mont joye St. Denis!" "St. George forEngland!" and slogans too, I heard, as "Bellenden," "A Home! a Home!" andthen I knew the Scots were there, fighting in the front. But alas, howdifferent was the day when first I heard our own battle-cries underOrleans walls! Then I had my life and my sword in my hands, to spend andto strike; but now I lay a lonely prisoner, helpless and all buthopeless; yet even so I clashed my chains and shouted, when I heard theslogan.
Thus with noise and smoke, and trumpets blowing the charge or the recall,and our pipes shrieking the pibroch high above the din, with dustfloating and plaster dropping from the walls of my cell till I waswellnigh stifled, the day wore on, nor could I tell, in anywise, how thebattle went. The main onslaught, I knew, was not on the gate behind thetower in which I lay, though that tower also was smitten of cannon-balls.
At length, well past mid-day, as I deemed by the light, came a hush, andthen a thicker smoke, and taste of burning pitch-wood, and a roar as ifall Paris had been blown into mid-air, so that my tower shook, whileheavy beams fell crashing to earth.
Again came a hush, and then one voice, clear as a clarion call, even thevoice of the Maid, "Tirez en avant, en avant!" How my blood thrilled atthe sound of it!
It must be now, I thought, or never, but the guns only roared the louder,the din grew fierce and fiercer, till I heard a mighty roar, the Englishshouting aloud as one man for joy, for so their manner is. Thrice theyshouted, and my heart sank within me. Had they slain the Maid? I knewnot, but for torment of soul there is scarce any greater than so to lie,bound and alone, seeing nought, but guessing at what is befalling.
After these shouts it was easy to know that the fighting waned, and wasless fierce. The day, moreover, turned to thunder, and waxed loweringand of a stifling heat. Yet my worst fears were ended, for I heard, nowand again, the clear voice of the Maid, bidding her men "fight on, forall was theirs." But the voice was weaker now, and other than it hadbeen. So the day darkened, only once and again a shot was fired, and inthe dusk the shouts of the English told me over clearly that for to-dayour chance and hope were lost. Then the darkness grew deeper, and a starshone through my casement, and feet went up and down upon the stairs, butno man came near me. Below there was some faint cackle of mirth andlaughter, and at last the silence fell.
Once more came a swift step on the stairs, as of one st
umbling up inhaste. The key rattled in the wards, a yellow light shone in, a man-at-arms entered; he held a torch to my face, looked to my bonds, and thengave me a kick, while one cried from below, "Come on, Dickon, your meatis cooling!" So he turned and went out, the door clanging behind him,and the key rattling in the wards.
In pain and fierce wrath I gnawed my black bread, drank some of thewater, and at last I bethought me of that which should have been first inthe thoughts of a Christian man, and I prayed.
Remembering the story of Michael Hamilton, which I have already told, andother noble and virtuous miracles of Madame St. Catherine of Fierbois, Icommanded me to her, that, by God's grace, she would be pleased torelease me from bonds and prison. And I promised that, if she would sofavour me, I would go on pilgrimage to her chapel of Fierbois. I lookedthat my chains should now fall from my limbs, but, finding no suchmatter, and being very weary (for all the last night I had slept none), Ifell on slumber and forgot my sorrow.
Belike I had not lain long in that blessed land where trouble seldomcomes when I was wakened, as it were, by a tugging at my clothes. I satup, but the room was dark, save for a faint light in the casement, highoverhead, and I thought I had dreamed. Howbeit, as I lay down again,heavy at heart, my clothes were again twitched, and now I remembered whatI had heard, but never believed, concerning "lutins" or "brownies," as wecall them, which, being spirits invisible, and reckoned to have no partin our salvation, are wont in certain houses to sport with men. Curiousrather than affrighted, I sat up once more, and looked around, when I sawtwo bright spots of light in the dark. Then deeming that, for somereason unknown to me, the prison door had been opened while I slept, anda cat let in, I stretched out my hands towards the lights, thence came asharp, faint cry, and something soft and furry leaped on to my breast,stroking me with little hands.
It was Elliot's jackanapes, very meagre, as I could feel, and all hisribs standing out, but he made much of me, fondling me after his manner;and indeed, for my lady's sake, I kissed him, wondering much how he camethere. Then he put something into my hands, almost as if he had been aChristian, for it was a wise beast and a kind. Even then there shoneinto my memory the thought of how my lady had prayed for her littlefriend when he was stolen (which I had thought strange, and scarcelywarranted by our Faith), and with that, hope wakened within me. My eyesbeing now more accustomed to the darkness, I saw that the thing which thejackanapes gave me was a little wallet, for he had been taught to fetchand carry, and never was such a marvel at climbing. But as I wascaressing him, I found a string about his neck, to which there seemed tobe no end. Now, at length, I comprehended what was toward, and pullinggently at the string, I found, after some time, that it was attached tosomething heavy, on the outside of the casement. Therefore I set aboutdrawing in string from above, and more string, and more, and thenappeared a knot and a splice, and the end of a thick rope. So I drew anddrew, till it stopped, and I could see a stout bar across the stanchionsof the casement. Thereon I ceased drawing, and opening the littlewallet, I found two files, one very fine, the other of sturdier fashion.
Verily then I blessed the violer woman, who at great peril of her ownlife, and by such witty device as doubtless Madame St. Catherine put intoher heart, had sent the jackanapes up from below, and put me in the wayof safety. I wasted no time, but began filing, not at the thick circleton my wrist, but at a link of the chain whereto it was made fast. Andsuch was the temper of the file, that soon I got the stouter weapon intothe cut, and snapped the link; and so with the others, working longhours, and often looking fearfully for the first glimmer of dawn. Thishad not come in, when I was now free of bonds, but there was yet thecasement to be scaled. With all my strength I dragged and jerked at therope, whereby I meant to climb, lest the stanchions should be rustedthrough, and unable to bear my weight, but they stood the strain bravely.Then I cast off my woman's kirtle, and took from my pouch thearrow-point, and therewith scratched hastily on the plastered wall, ingreat letters: "Norman Leslie of Pitcullo leaves his malison on theEnglish."
Next I bound the jackanapes within the bosom of my doublet, with a pieceof the cord whereto the rope had been knotted, for I could not leave thelittle beast to die the death of a traitor, and bring suspicion,moreover, on the poor violer woman. Then, commanding myself to theSaints, and especially thanking Madame St. Catherine, I began to climb,hauling myself up by the rope, whereon I had made knots to this end; norwas the climbing more difficult than to scale a branchless beech trunkfor a bird's nest, which, like other boys, I had often done. So beholdme, at last, with my legs hanging in free air, seated on the sill of thecasement. Happily, of the three iron stanchions, though together theybore my weight, one was loose in the lower socket, for lack of lead, andthis one I displaced easily enough, and so passed through. Then I putthe wooden bar at the rope's end, within the room, behind the two otherstanchions, considering that they, by themselves, would bear my weight,but if not, rather choosing to trust my soul to the Saints than my bodyto the English.
The deep below me was very terrible to look upon, and the casement beingabove the dry ditch, I had no water to break my fall, if fall I must.Howbeit, I hardened my heart, and turning my face to the wall, holdingfirst the wooden bar, and then shifting my grasp to the rope, I letmyself down, clinging to the rope with my legs, and at first not a littlehelped by the knots I had made to climb to the casement. When I hadpassed these, methought my hands were on fire; nevertheless, I slid downslowly and with caution, till my feet touched ground.
I was now in the dry ditch, above my head creaked and swung the dead bodyof the hanged marauder, but he did no whit affray me. I ran, stooping,along the bed of the dry ditch, for many yards, stumbling over the bodiesof men slain in yesterday's fight, and then, creeping out, I found ahollow way between two slopes, and thence crawled into a wood, where Ilay some little space hidden by the boughs. The smell of trees and grassand the keen air were like wine to me; I cooled my bleeding hands in thedeep dew; and presently, in the dawn, I was stealing towards St. Denis,taking such cover of ditches and hedges as we had sought in our unhappymarch of yesterday. And I so sped, by favour of the Saints, that I fellin with no marauders; but reaching the windmill right early, at firsttrumpet-call, I was hailed by our sentinels for the only man that had wonin and out of Paris, and had carried off, moreover, a prisoner, thejackanapes. To see me, scarred, with manacles on my wrists and gyves onmy ankles, weaponless, with an ape on my shoulder, was such a sight asthe Scots Guard had never beheld before, and carrying me to the smith's,they first knocked off my irons, and gave me wine, ere they either askedme for my tale, or told me their own, which was a heartbreak to bear.
For no man could unfold the manner of that which had come to pass, if, atleast, there were not strong treason at the root of all. For our part ofthe onfall, the English had made but a feigned attack on the mill,wherefore the bale-fires were lit, to our undoing. This was the ruse deguerre of the accursed cordelier, Brother Thomas. For the rest, the Maidhad led on a band to attack the gate St. Honore, with Gaucourt in hercompany, a knight that had no great love either of her or of a desperateonslaught. But D'Alencon, whom she loved as a brother, was commanded totake another band, and wait behind a butte or knowe, out of danger ofarrow-shot. The Maid had stormed all day at her gate, had taken theboulevard without, and burst open and burned the outer port, and crossedthe dry ditch. But when she had led up her men, now few, over the slopeand to the edge of the wet fosse, behold no faggots and bundles of woodwere brought up, whereby, as is manner of war, to fill up the fosse, andso cross over. As she then stood under the wall, shouting for faggotsand scaling-ladders, her standard-bearer was shot to death, and she wassorely wounded by an arbalest bolt. Natheless she lay by the wall, stillcrying on her men, but nought was ready that should have been, many wereslain by shafts and cannon-shot, and in the dusk, she weeping and cryingstill that the place was theirs to take, D'Alencon carried her off bymain force, set her on her horse, and so brought her
back to St. Denis.
Now, my mind was, and is to this day, that there was treason here, and ablack stain on the chivalry of France, to let a girl go so far, and notto follow her. But of us Scots many were slain, and more wounded, whileRobin Lindsay died in Paris gate, and Randal Rutherford lay a prisoner inEnglish hands.
