The Serf

by Guy Thorne

  CHAPTER III

  The last night of Geoffroi de la Bourne

  While Cerdic and Hyla sat in the field weaving their design tocompletion, Lord Geoffroi, Lord Fulke, Lady Alice, and Brian de Burgh,the squire, set out after forest game. They were attended by a greathunting train. Very few people of any importance were left in thecastle, save Lewin and Dom Anselm.

  The sun, though still very hot, had begun to decline towards his westernbower, and the quiet of the afternoon already seemed to foreshadow theultimate peace of evening.

  Very little was doing in the castle. Some of the grooms lay aboutsleeping in the sun, waiting the long return of the hunters in idleness.From the armoury now and again the musical tinkering of a chisel uponsteel sounded intermittent. Soon this also stopped, and a weapon-smith,who had been engraving foliates upon a blade, came out of his forgeyawning. The Pantler, a little stomachy man, descended from the greathall, and, passing through the court, went out of the great gate intothe village. Time seemed all standing still, in the silence and theheat.

  Dom Anselm came into the court-yard, and sat him down upon a bench bythe draw-well, just in the fringe of the long violet shadow thrown overthe yard by Outfangthef. There was a bucket of water, full of cool greenlights, standing by the well. After a little consideration, the priestkicked off his sandals and thrust his feet into its translucence. Then,comfortably propped up against the post, he fell to reading hisLatin-book. In half-an-hour the book had slipped from his hand, and hewas fast asleep.

  While he slept, a door opened in the tower. From it came Pierce, andafter him two girls, tall, comely Saxon lasses, bronzed by sun and wind.One of them, the eldest of the two, held her hands clenched, and herface was set in sullen silence. Her eyes alone blazed, and were dilatedwith anger. The younger girl seemed more at ease. Her eyes were timid,but a half smile lingered on her pretty, rather foolish lips. Shefingered a massive bracelet of silver which encircled her arm. Piercewas giving Frija and Elgifu their freedom.

  They came down the steps, and he pointed across the court-yard towardsthe gateway passage. "There! girls," said he, "there lies your way, totake or leave, just as suits your mind. For me, were I you, I'd never goback to the stoke. Hard fare, and dogs lying beyond all opinion! MyLords bid me say that you can take your choice."

  Frija swung round at him, shaking with passion.

  "Vitaille and bower," she shrilled at him, "and the prys shame! A lordfor a leofman, indeed! Before I would fill my belly with lemman's foodto your lord's pleasure, I would throw myself from Outfangthef."

  Pierce smiled calmly at her.

  "You talk of shame!--it is my lord's, if shame there is! Off with you tothe fold, little serf lamb!"

  She flushed a deep crimson, and seemed to cower at his words. "Come,Elgifu," she said, "mother will be glad to see us come, even coming aswe do."

  "Pretty Elgifu!" said the man. "No, you are not going! My Lord Fulke's afine young man. Did he not give you that bracelet? Stay here with usall, good comrades, and you shall be our little friend. We will treatyou well. Is it not so?"

  The girl hesitated. She was a pretty, brainless little thing, and hadnot protested. They had been kind enough to her. The stoke seemed veryhorrible and noisome after the glories of the castle. Her sister'sburning flow of Saxon seemed unnecessary. Frija looked at her insurprise at her hesitation.

  "Say nothing to the divell," she cried impatiently; "come you home tomother."

  Her imperious elder sister's tone irritated the little fool. "No, then,"she said. "I will stay here. I will not go with you. You may talk of'shame,' but if shame it is to live in this tower, then I have shame formy choys. Life is short; it is better here."

  With that frank confession, she turned to the man-at-arms for approval.

  He stepped in front of her, and, scowling at Frija, bid her be off. Witha great cry of sorrow, the elder girl bowed her head and swiftly walkedaway. They saw her disappear through the gateway, and heard thechallenge and laughter of the guards, pursuing her with jests as shewent by.

  "Oh, you are wise, pretty one!" said Pierce, putting his arm round herwaist. "See, now, I will take you to the topmost part of the tower, tothat balcony. We shall see all the country-side from there!"

  They turned and entered Outfangthef, and the clanging of the door as itclosed behind them roused Anselm from his slumber.

  He sat up, stupidly gazing round him. His book was fallen, and a dog wasnosing in its pages. He kicked the cur away, and picked up the breviary.By the shadow of the tower, which stood at the corner of the keep, hesaw the afternoon was getting on. He looked round him impatiently, and,even as he did so, saw the man he was expectant of approaching.

  "I am late," said Lewin, as he came up; "but I have been hearing news,and have much to tell you. We had better go at once."

  "Whiles I fetch my staff," said the other, and soon they were walkingthrough the village, down the road which led to the fen. They came tothe fields, where a herd of swine was feeding among the sewage.

  "They are unclean things," said Lewin, regarding them with dislike."Though I am no Jew in practice, yet I confess that I do not like them.Pig! the very name is an outrage to one's ear."

  "So not I," said Dom Anselm. "When the brute lives in the charge of aSaxon slave, she goes by her Saxon name; but she becomes a Norman, andis called 'pork,' when she is carried to castle-hall to feast among us.I want no better dish."

  "Each to his taste. But here we are. By the Mass, but the place stinks!"

  They had come to the landing-stage in the river, and, indeed, the odourwas almost unbearable. For twenty yards round, the water was thick withfoulness. They got into a flat-bottomed boat and pushed off across thestream. The water was too deep to pole in the centre, but one or twovigorous strokes sent them gliding towards the further rushes. Lewinpunted skilfully, skirting the reeds, which rose far above his head,until he came to a narrow opening.

  "This will do as well as another," he said, and turned the boat down it.

  The water-way was little more than two yards wide, and the reeds grewthick and high, so that they could only see a little way in front. Atlast, after many turns and twists, they came to a still, green pool, ahundred yards across. In this stagnant evil-looking place they rested,floating motionless in the centre.

  "Geoffroi himself, were he in the reeds, could not hear us now," saidthe priest.

  "True, but drop a line to give a reason for being here."

  The priest took from his girdle a line, wound upon a wooden spool.Baiting the hook with a piece of meat, he dropped it overboard, andsettled himself comfortably in the bottom of the boat.

  "Now, Lewin," said he, "you may go into the matter."

  "I will tell you all I have heard," said the minter, "and we will settleall we purpose to do. You have heard that Roger Bigot has taken Norwich,and assumed the earldom of the county in rebellion to the king. Hamo deCopton, the moneyer, is a correspondent of mine, from London, and wehave been interested together in more than one mercantile venture. Fromhim letters are to hand upon the disposal of four chests of silvertriens in London. You know our money is but token money, and not worththe face value of the stamp. We are making trial to circulate our moneythrough Hamo, and in return he sends Lord Geoffroi bars of silveruncoined. Now, the letter bears a post scriptum to this end. 'The kingis sick, and indeed was taken so before Whitsuntide.' The talk is allthat his cause is losing, and that wise men will be nimble to seizeopportunity. Hamo urges me to consider well if I should seek some othermaster than Geoffroi, who is the king's friend."

  He stopped suddenly, alarmed by a great disturbance in the water. A pikehad swallowed Anselm's bait and was beating about the pool five or sixyards away, leaping out of the water in its agony. They hauled the linein slowly, until the great, evil-looking creature was snapping andwrithing at the boat-side. Then, with a joint heave, it lay at thebottom of the boat, and was soon despatched by the minter's dagger.

  "Go on," said Dom Anselm.


  "Yestreen," resumed Lewin, "John Heyrown was privy with me for near twohours. He comes peddling spice from Dentown, hard by Norwich town. Ihave known him privily these six months. From him I hear that RogerBigot is in the article of setting forth to come upon us here to takethe castle. Geoffroi has great store of fine armour of war, eke finemetals and jewels of silver and gold. Hilgay would extend Roger's armfar south, and make a fort for him on the eastern road to London. He ispressing to London with a great force and inventions of war. Now,listen, John Heyrown is neither more nor less than in his pay, and hecomes here to see if he can find friends within our walls. Roger knowsof me and my value, and offereth me a high place, and also for myfriends, do I but help him. What do you say?"

  Dom Anselm's thin face wrinkled up in thought, weighing the chances.

  "I think," he said at last, very slowly, "I think, that we must throwour lot in with Roger Bigot, and be his men."

  "I also," said Lewin. "And I have already been preparing a token of ourchoice."

  He pulled a piece of vellum from his tunic.

  "Here is a map of the castle, clear drawn. There you see marked the weakspot by the orchard wall; Geoffroi has been long a-mending of it sincewe noticed the sinking, but nothing has been done. To enter the castleneed not be difficult. The donjon will be harder; but I have marked aplan for that also. At the foot of Outfangthef lie _les oubliettes_, andmany deep cellars, raised on arches. It is there keep we our coinedsilver and the silver in bars. With his engines, knowing the spot, Rogercould mine deep, and Outfangthef would fall, leaving a great breach."

  Anselm took the plan with admiration.

  "It's finely writ," he said; "should'st have been in a scriptorium."

  "My two hands are good thralls to me," said Lewin, pleased at thecompliment to his work. "Then you and I stand committed to this thing?"

  "Since it seems the wisest course, for Lord Roger is a great lord andstrong, I give you my hand."

  "Let it be so, friend Anselm. I will give John the plan this night."

  "Then it is a thing done. But what is your immediate end?--for Iconceive you have some near purpose in view."

  "Some time I will tell you, but not yet."

  "It's a woman, you dog!" said the priest with a grin.

  "We must homewards," answered the other. "Hark! I hear the horns, theyhave returned from the chase."

  As he spoke, clear and sweet the tantivy came floating down the hill andover the water.

  "We shall be late for supper," said Lewin, "make haste; take the otherpole."

  "God forbid we should be late for supper," said Anselm, and they beganto push back.

  "Will Geoffroi know that Roger is about to attack Hilgay?" Anselm askedLewin.

  "Certainly he will, in a day or two. You may be sure that he has friendsin Norwich, and an expedition does not start without a clatter and talkall along the country-side. I would wager you a wager, Sir Anselm, thatGeoffroi will hear of it by to-morrow morn."

  "And then?"

  "Why then to making ready, to get provision and vitaille for the siege."

  "Well, I wait it in patience: I never moil and fret. He who waiteth, allthings reach at the last."

  "Beware of too much patience, Sir Anselm. Mind you the fable of ChicheVache, the monstrous cow, who fed entirely on patient men and women,and, the tale went, was sorely lean on that fare?

  "'Gardez vous de la shicheface, El vous mordra s'el vous encontre.'"

  The Jew gave out the song with a fine trill in his voice, which was astuneful as a bell.

  The priest, as he watched him and marked his handsome, intelligent face,was filled with wonder of him. There was nothing he could not do well,so ran his thoughts, and an air of accomplishment and ease was attendantupon all his movements. As he threw back his head, drinking in theevening air, and humming his catch--"el vous mordra s'el vousencontre"--Anselm was suddenly filled with fear of him. He seemed notquite to fit into life. He was a Jew, too, and his forefathers hadscourged God Incarnate. Strange things were said about the Jews--artmagic helped them in their work. The priest clutched the cross by hisside, and there was a wonderful comfort in the mere physical contactwith it.

  "No," said he, "I have never heard of Chiche Vache that I can call tomind. I do not care much for fables and fairy tales. There is merryreading in the lives of Saints, and good for the soul withal."

  "The loss is yours, priest. I love the stories and tales of the commonfolk, eke the songs they sing to the children. I can learn much fromthem. Chiche Vache is as common to the English as to French folk. 'LestChichewache yow swelwe in hir entraille,'" he drawled in a capitalimitation of the uncouth Saxon speech.

  By that time they had got to the castle and turned in at its gates.

  The courtyard was full with a press of people, and busy as a hive.Outside the stable doors the horses were being rubbed down by the serfs.As they splashed the cool water over the quivering fetlocks and hotlegs, all scratched by thorns and forest growth, they crooned a littlesong in unison. The "ballad of my lord going hawking" was a melancholycadence, which seemed, in its slow minors, instinct with the sadness ofa conquered race. The first verse ran--

  "Lord his wyfe upstood and kyssed, Faucon peregryn on wryst; Faucon she of fremde londe, With hir beek Sir Heyrown fonde."

  Lewin and Anselm passed by them and stood watching a moment.

  "Hear you that song of the grooms?" Lewin said.

  "I have heard it a hundred times, but never listened till now," saidAnselm. "But what say they of Faucon peregryn? what means fremde londe?"

  "It stands for foreign land in their speech," said the Jew. "Hast muchto learn of thy flock, Anselm?"

  "Not I. My belly moves at the crooning. It is like the wind in theforest of a winter's night. Come you to supper."

  "That I will, when I have washed my hands; they are all foul with pike'sblood."

  Dom Anselm gave a superior smile, and turned towards the hall.

  The great keep lifted its huge angular block of masonry high into theruddy evening air, Outfangthef frowned over the bailey below. The doorwhich opened on the hall steps stood wide, and the servants werehurrying in and out with dishes of food, while the men-at-arms stoodlingering round it till supper should be ready.

  Cookery was an art upon the upward path, and Geoffroi's _chef_ was nomean professor of it. The hungry crowd saw bowls of stew made from gooseand garlic borne up the stairs. Pork and venison in great quartersfollowed, and after them came two kitchen serfs carrying wooden trays ofpastry, and round cakes piously marked with a cross.

  Soon came the summons to supper. A page boy came down the steps andcried that my lord was seated, and every one pressed up the stairs withmuch jangling of metal and grinding of feet upon the stones. To ourmodern ideas the great hall would present an extraordinary sight. Thisrich nobleman fed with less outward-seeming comfort than a pauper in aclean-scrubbed, whitewashed workhouse of to-day. And yet, though many alazy casual would grumble at a dinner served as was Geoffroi de laBourne's, there was something enormously impressive in the scene. We arefortunate in many old chronicles and tales which enable us toreconstruct it in all its picturesqueness.

  Imagine, then, that you are standing on the threshold of the hall justas supper has been begun.

  The hall was a great room of bare stone, with a roof of oaken beams, inwhich more than one bird had its nest. There was an enormous stonechimney, now all empty of fire, and the place was lit with narrowchinks, unglazed, pierced in the ten-foot wall. The day of splendidoriels was yet to come in fortress architecture, which was, like thetime, grim and stern. It was dusk now in the outside world, and the hallwas lit with horn lanterns, and also with tall spiked sticks, into whichwere fixed rough candles of tallow. The table went right up the hall,and was a heavy board supported on trestles. Benches were the onlyseats.

  On a dais at the far end of the building was the high table, whereGeoffroi and his son and daughter sat. The two squires, Brian de Burghand Richard Ferville, a
lso sat at the high table, and Dom Anselm had aplace on the baron's right hand.

  Lewin was seated at the head of the lower table, and the baron couldlean over and speak to him if he had a mind to do so.

  Geoffroi and his son sat in chairs which were covered with rugs, and attheir side stood great goblets of silver. The dim light threw fantasticshadows upon the colours of the dresses and the weapons hung on pegsdriven into the wall, blending them into a harmonious whole.

  It was a picture of warm reds and browns, of mellow, comfortablecolours, with here and there a sudden twinkle of rich, vivid madder orold gold.

  When every one was seated, Geoffroi nodded to Dom Anselm, who thereuponpattered out a grace, an act of devotion which was rather marred by thebehaviour of Lord Fulke, who was audibly relating some merry tale to hisfriend, Brian de Burgh.

  Then every one fell to with a great appetite. The serfs, kneeling,brought barons of beef and quarters of hot pork on iron dishes. Each mancut what he fancied with his dagger or hunting-knife, and laid it on histrencher. Such as chose stew or ragout, ate it from a wooden bowl,scooping up the mess in their bare hands. Lady Alice held a bone in herwhite fingers, and gnawed it like any kitchen wench; and so did theyall, and were, indeed, none the worse for that.

  Geoffroi de la Bourne, the central figure of that company, was a tall,thin man of some five-and-fifty years. His face was lined and seamedwith deep furrows. Heavy brows hung over cold green eyes, and a beakedeagle nose dominated a small grey moustache, which did not hide a pairof firm, thin lips. His grey hair fell almost to his shoulders.

  Geoffroi, like his son and the squires, was dressed in a tunic, long,tight hose, a short cloak trimmed with expensive fur, and shoes withpeaked corkscrew toes.

  The Baron sat eating quickly, and joining little in the talk around him.He seemed very conscious of his position as lord of vast lands, and hadthe exaggerated manner of the overworked business man.

  He had many things to trouble him. The mint was not going well. Hisunblushing adulteration of coined monies was severely commented on, andhis silver pennies were looked upon with suspicion in more than onemercantile centre. The king was ill, and the license made possible bythe disordered state of the country was exciting the great churchmen toevery intrigue against the barons. Moreover, plunder was becomeincreasingly difficult. Merchants no longer passed with their trainsanywhere near the notorious castle of Hilgay, and, except for hisimmediate retainers, all the country round was up in arms againstGeoffroi.

  He had imagined that stern, repressive measures would terrify his lesspowerful neighbours into silence. Two flaming churches in the fens andthe summary hanging of the priests had, however, only incensed EastAnglia to a passion of hatred.

  Even as he sat at supper a certain popular Saxon gentleman, Byrlitelm byname, lay at the bottom of an unmentionable hole beneath Outfangthef,groaning his life away in darkness and silence, while his daughter wasthe sport and plaything of the two young squires. Disquieting rumourswere abroad about the intentions of the powerful Roger Bigot of Norwich,who was known to be hand-in-glove with the Earl of Gloucester, thehalf-brother of Matilda.

  Added to these weighty troubles, Geoffroi, who like all nobles of thatday was an expert carver in wood and metal, had cut his thumb almost tothe bone by the slip of a graving tool, and it throbbed unbearably. Astill further annoyance threatened him. Gertrude of Albermarl, a littlegirl of fifteen, now acting as an attendant to Lady Alice, was a ward ofhis whom he had taken quietly, usurping one of the especial privilegesof his friend the king.

  The Crown managed the estates of minors, and held the right of giving inmarriage the heirs and heiresses of its tenants. "The poor child may betossed and tumbled chopped and changed, bought and sold, like a jade inSmithfield, and, what is more, married to whom it pleaseth hisguardian--whereof many evils ensue," says Jocelyn de Brakelond, and thewardship of little Gertrude was a very comfortable thing. Stephen hadheard of this act of Geoffroi's, and had sent him a peremptory summonsto send the child immediately to town. Geoffroi had that day determinedthat little Gertrude should be married incontinently, to the youngruffian his son, but the step was a grave one to take, and wouldprobably alienate the king irrevocably.

  So he ate his supper gloomily. Every one in the place knew immediatelythat he was displeased, and it cast a gloom over them also.

  As the meal went on, conversation became fitful and constrained, and thecrowd of lecheurs, or beggars, who waited round the door, disputingscraps of food with the lean fen dogs, could be distinctly heardgrowling and gobbling among themselves in obscene chatter.

  When at last Lady Alice withdrew and the cups were filled afresh withcool wine from the cellar, Geoffroi signed to Fulke to come up to him.The young man was a debauched creature of twenty-six, clean-shaven. Hishair was not long like his father's, but clipped close. The back of hishead was also shaven, and gave him a fantastic, elfin appearance. It wasa custom to shave the back of the head, which was very generallyadopted, especially in hot weather, among the young dandies of thetime.[2]

  "Letters from the king," said Geoffroi shortly, in a deep, hoarse voice.

  "About Gertrude?"

  "Yes, that is it. Now there is but one answer to make to that. You mustmarry her in a day or so, and then nothing more can be said."

  "That is the only thing," said Fulke, grinning and wrinkling up hisforehead till his stubble of hair seemed squirting out of it. "But Iwill not give up my pleasures for that."

  "Who asked you?" said the father. "She is but a child and a-knowethnothing--you can make them her maids-in-waiting, that will please her."He laughed a short, snarling laugh. "Sir Anselm shall tie the knot withHoly Church her benediction."

  [2] _It is quite possible that this fashion of the shavelings accounted for the mistake of Harold's spies at the Conquest, who said that there were more priests in the Norman camp than fighting men in the English army!_

  He summoned that scandalous old person from his wine.

  "Priest," said he, "my Lord Fulke is about to wed little Lady Gertrude;so make you ready in a day or two. I will give you the gold cross I tookfrom Medhampstede, for a memorial, and we will eke have a feast forevery one of my people."

  "It is the wisest possible thing, Lord Geoffroi," said Anselm. "I willsay a Mass or two and get to praying for the young folk, and Heaven willbe kind to them."

  "That do," said Fulke and Geoffroi, making the sign of the cross, for,strange as it may seem, both the scoundrels were real believers in themysterious powers of the chaplain. Though they saw him drunken,lecherous, and foul of tongue, yet they believed entirely in his powerto arrange things for them with God. Indeed, paradoxical as it maysound, if Anselm had not been at Hilgay, both of them would have beenbetter men. They would not have dared some of their excesses, had it notbeen possible to obtain immediate absolution. A rape and a murder werecheap at a pound of wax altar lights and a special Mass.

  "Here's good fortune," said Anselm, lifting the cup and bowing to Fulke.

  "Thank you for't," said the young man. "Father, the minter shall make usa ring, and his mouth shall give the tidings to the other officers.Lewin, come you here, you have a health to drink." Lewin was summoned tothe upper table, and sat drinking with them, pledging many toasts. Oncehe cast a curious glance at Anselm, and that worthy smiled back at him.

  The evening was growing very hot and oppressive as it wore on. It wasquite dark outside and there was thunder in the air. Every now and againthe sky muttered in wrath, and at such sounds a sudden stillness fellupon the four knaves at the high table, and, putting down their winevessels, they crossed themselves. Lewin made the "great cross" eachtime, "from brow to navel, and from arm to arm."

  Little Gertrude was long since a-bed, her prayers said, and her littledark head tucked under the coverlet. She felt quite safe from thethunder, for she had invoked Saint Peter, Saint Paul, Saint Luke andSaint Matthew, to stand round her bed all night, and she knew that theywould be there while she slept. Wh
o, indeed, shall say that my Lords theSaints were not guarding the sleeping child on that eventful night?

  Geoffroi began to be less taciturn as the wine warmed him. Some bonedice were produced, and they fell to playing for silver pennies. One ofthe squires joined them, but the other left the hall early, as he hadsome tender business afoot with Gundruda, the pretty serving-maid.

  In the middle of the game, a stir came about at the hall door. One ortwo of the soldiers went to see what was toward. A traveller, wet withrain, was asking speech with Geoffroi, and he was brought up to the hightable by Huber and John.

  "My lord," said he, "you will remember me. I am Oswald, your liege man.I come from Norwich bearing news of war. I have been there a-buyingrams, and I bring you grave news. Roger Bigot is arming all his men inhot speed, and comes to Hilgay to overthrow us. In a week or two he willbe here. He is very strong in arms."

  These tidings affected the five men very differently.

  Lewin glanced quickly at Anselm, and then turned to Oswald, waitingmore. The young squire tossed his head, and rang his hand upon the tablejoyously. Fulke's lips tightened, and an ugly light came into his eyes.The Baron alone showed no outward sign of agitation. He drummed hisfingers on the side of the wine-goblet for a minute, in silence.

  Then he suddenly looked up, "Well," he said, "that is news, Oswald, butI had thought to hear it a month since! Let the man come up against meif he will, he shall rot for't, damn his soul! I am lord of thiscountry-side, with a rare lot of devils, lusty for blood, to guard thiskeep. A week, you say? Very well, in a week he shall find us ready. Butget you to the table, Oswald, along of my merry men, and see that youdrink in God's name. Get you drunken, Oswald, my man; I thank you forthis. Get you drunk. Really, you should, in God's name. Huber! John!Tell Master Pantler from me to put rope to windlass and draw up a caskof wine for the men-at-arms. HEI! HEI!! HEI!!!" he shouted in a vast andwonderful voice, rising in his seat and holding his beaker above hishead, "Men of mine! men of mine! my Lord Roger Bigot, the bastard fromNorwich town, lusteth for our blood and castle. The foining scampa-comes riding with a great force to take us. Drink ye all to me, men ofmine, and we will go against this traitor to the king--HEI! HEI! HEI!"

  There was a fierce roar of exultation which pierced the very roof. Thewar spirit ran like fire round the great hall, and as Geoffroi's tallfigure stood high above them, his voice rolled louder than the mightestshouter there.

  They broached the cask of wine, and brought torches into the hall untilthe whole place flamed with light. The enthusiasm was indescribable.They had all been long spoiling for a fight, and here was news indeed!Oswald was plied with drink and pestered with questions.

  When, in some half-hour's time, the excitement had in some degreesubsided, it began to be told among the men that a jongleur was in thecastle, and had been there since the afternoon. Lewin told Geoffroi ofthis, and the man was sent for, so that he might amuse them with songsof battle.