The Walking Drum

by Louis L'Amour

  The view was that of a narrow street, a crooked street where we could see but a few yards in either direction. Unbarring the door, we went outside, closing the door behind us.

  The door had been so rigged that when it opened, the bar lifted automatically, and when it closed, the bar fell into place once more. Mounting, the Comtesse and I walked our horses along the street into the town.

  All was dark and quiet. We needed shelter and a place where we could remain out of sight until the von Gildersterns' caravan arrived if it was not already here. And we needed food.

  We found an inn on the outskirts of town, one that gave indication of being well-appointed. The common room was crowded, and the host came to us at once. His glance was hard and suspicious.

  "Is this the inn patronized by the Hansgraf von Gilderstern?"

  His manner changed. "Hah? You are a friend of the Hansgraf? This is not the inn to which he comes, but I know him well. He came often to the inn of my father, beyond the walls. He will be here for the fair?"

  "I am a merchant of his caravan. I left him at Montauban to meet my sister. We are to join him here."

  "Ah? You were not at St. Denis? We heard he was there." He turned. "Pierre! To the yard! See to the merchant's horses!"

  He took up a massive ring and keys. "I have a fine room. I was saving it for the Hansgraf, hoping to get his business. I hope you will recommend us."

  "See that we are not disturbed, and notify us at once when the caravan comes to town."

  He led the way to a comfortable room with two beds and a large fireplace. He knelt and lighted the fire upon the hearth. He brought a pitcher and a bowl. "I would have known she was your sister," he said. "You favor one another."

  "Merci. There could be no greater compliment," I answered, smothering a smile at the shocked expression on the face of the Comtesse. "My sister is the loveliest of women."

  When he had gone she turned on me. "How dare he say such a thing! It is nonsense!"

  "A good sign, I thought. People often fall in love with those who resemble them because they can imagine no beauty greater than their own. That may be why you are falling in love with me, because we resemble each other."

  "I am not falling in love with you." Her tone was icy. "We are to sleep in the same room?"

  "There is no other way. Had we asked for separate rooms, they would not have understood. It is not the custom for husband and wife, brother and sister, or whatever, to remain apart in strange inns. A woman by herself is in danger."

  "And am I not in danger here, with you?"

  "That would depend, madame, on your definition of danger. Some people are afraid of one thing, some of another."

  "If you come to my bed, I shall scream for help."

  "Madame, if I come to your bed, I shall not need help."

  She removed her cloak with an angry gesture, and I took it from her and hung it on the wall.

  "You were quick to tell them who you were, but why Montauban?"

  "If one would remain hidden, Comtesse, one must be obvious, not mysterious. Had I not told them who I was and who you were, they would have been curious, which leads to imaginings. I identified myself as a merchant here to meet a known caravan. My identity is established, and we are no longer of interest.

  "Moreover, I did not want us associated with the road from Paris. If soldiers come searching for us, the innkeeper might have mentioned that we had come by that road, and they might have come to ask whom we had seen on that road."

  "You are good at this. It inclines me to believe you have often been a fugitive."

  "Beautiful women are the wives or daughters of powerful men. Naturally, I have been a fugitive."

  "Do you make a practice of this? Of running off with strange women?"

  "All women are strange until they become familiar, but I have forgotten other women. How could even a memory be left after having seen you?"

  "You are lying."

  "Perhaps, but even a lie may carry truth. It is a paradox, but is not all life a paradox?" I paused. "Now shall we lie down together and discuss paradoxes, life, and strange meetings by the wayside?"

  Before she could reply, our meal was at the door, and we ate in silence, as we were both tired and hungry. As the warmth of the fire and wine crept into our tired muscles, I thought of her home. "Tell me about Saone," I said.

  "It was built long ago on the foundations of an earlier Byzantine castle. It was to guard the southern approaches to Antioch. They built upon a promontory jutting out to the westward, with a gorge on either side. Two deep ditches were dug across the neck of the promontory, one of these to defend the approach to the gate, another to divide the castle into two sections in the event the first was taken.

  "You know about such things, but the castles were built to defend land the Crusaders had won, and many of the Crusaders did not return to their homelands, but stayed to rule their vast estates in Lebanon.

  "There are subterranean storage chambers for supplies; there are mills to grind grain, as well as wells and cisterns for water. The castles were sited so they could communicate with each other by signal fires, but if the distance was too great, they used carrier pigeons."

  "It must cost a fair amount to keep it all going."

  "We have income from a dozen villages and much land, but a few years before my father was killed he had to be ransomed from the Arabs, which cost many thousands in gold."

  "What will you do if you return to Saone? Will they not want you to marry?"

  "I must, to hold the castle and the land, but there are others than Count Robert. He knows that, too, and will not want me to return to Saone except as his wife." She glanced at me. "He will kill you if he finds us together."

  "What better place to die? In your arms, I mean."

  She was exasperated. "Are you never serious? You are in danger, far more than you believe."

  We slept in separate beds, but I was sure she had a knife and was prepared to defend herself, and I am quite sure she remained awake most of the night. I, on the other hand, slept deeply and well.

  Knowing little about women's thoughts, I have no idea how the Comtesse felt about me. She was, I suspect, ready to use the knife during the first hour and perhaps during the second. By the third hour I suspect she was wishing I would make some attempt so she could settle the matter and get some sleep. Her state of mind after that I would not attempt to assess.

  When the sun came up, I went down to the common room and ate my breakfast, taking hers to her.

  "Did you sleep well?" I asked, all innocence.

  "I slept very well!"

  "Good. The caravan should arrive today, and you must be rested for travel."

  During the afternoon, dressed in a cloth coat and cap, I risked a visit to the town. My clothes were such as a prosperous merchant would wear, so with the influx of people for the fair I was not likely to attract attention. However, I did a little advance work for the caravan and discovered the Hansgraf was well known here.

  It was evening before I returned. The Comtesse was awaiting me. "How much longer must I be cooped up here?" she protested. "It is maddening!"

  "Go now, if you wish. Count Robert may not be in the town, but I am sure he has spies here."

  "You might at least stay with me!"

  "I have matters to arrange, but I thought you might prefer to be alone. It must be difficult for you to be in a room with a mere merchant."

  She did not reply to that. Today, she looked even more beautiful and had wrapped her braids about her head in a perfectly enchanting way, and she was wearing pearls. Knowing a bit about such things, I thought it was obvious they were worth more money than I had ever seen.

  The Comtesse wore a clinging white gown, a close-fitting garment with tight sleeves above the elbow, falling wide and open below the elbow. With her dark hair and eyes she was astonishingly beautiful. How she managed with the small amount of clothing she brought with her, I had no idea. Yet the result was certainly worth the effort
. I told her about the town, a pleasant, walled town where our arrival had been accepted without curiosity, yet I was wary. Not for a moment did I underestimate the jealousy of Count Robert, who wanted not only the castle but the girl as well. The former meant the power equal to that of a crowned king, and the loveliness of the Comtesse was answer to the second consideration.

  While in town I purchased a fur-lined tunic that came to my knees, and new leather boots that pulled on over plain hose. The boots came to just above the calf and were beautifully made. Walking in the town, I carried no sword, but I had two daggers beneath the tunic that could be reached through a slit in the front just above the belt.

  There was knocking at the door. It was the innkeeper. He was visibly nervous.

  "There have been queries about a lady. Knowing you for a friend of the Hansgraf, I said nothing about—about your sister."

  "Who made the inquiries?"

  "Soldiers of a Count Robert. He rode into town this morning with about thirty men, and I am sure they will be back."

  "Do you wish us to leave?"

  "Would you? But stay until the night. The Hansgraf should be here by then."

  Taking up my sword, I placed it conveniently on the table. Glancing again at the innkeeper, I decided to trust to his discretion.

  "What I have said is true. I am a merchant of the caravan led by Hansgraf Rupert von Gilderstern. As you have guessed, the lady is not my sister. She was to be forced into marriage with Count Robert. A castle is at stake as well as the happiness of the Comtesse."

  He dismissed the explanation with a gesture. "It is nothing. Count Robert comes, he goes. In a lifetime I shall not see him again, but each year the Hansgraf comes to Provins, spends much money here, brings much business. He is a good man much respected. Do not worry."

  When he had gone the Comtesse turned quickly to me. "You must go! If you are found with me, he will kill you!"

  It irritated my masculine pride that she thought me so easily killed. "Madame, we Kerbouchards do not kill so easily. This blade"—I gestured to the sword—"has taken the life of one baron not long since. No doubt it can take the life of another."

  "You killed a baron?"

  "After we had taken his fortress by storm. Barons, my Comtesse, bleed as easily as merchants or peasants. This one bled like the thief he was. The Baron de Tournemine—"

  "Tournemine?"

  "Not a relative, I hope?"

  "No, but a captain at the Castle of Saone once served him, a man named Taillefeur."

  "Trust him not. I believe he betrayed my father, and he tried to rob me. He is a mercenary without their virtue of loyalty. If he is not in the pay of Count Robert, I would be surprised."

  "I trust him."

  "Others have, to their cost. Once I nearly cracked his skull, and only wish I had struck harder."

  She was frightened. "If I cannot trust my own captains, then whom can I trust?"

  I bowed. "You may trust me with your castle, your wealth, your life, but not too many nights in the same room with you."

  Her eyes were amused. "You have spoken so much of that, merchant, that I wonder if you are not just a talker."

  Stung, I started to reply, but she laughed, and turned her back on me. That white dress did admirable things to her hips, which were shapely, very—

  A sudden uproar in the street took me to the window. Six men-at-arms clustered there, and with them was a tall, powerfully made man with a swarthy face and thick black brows. Nobody needed to tell me this was Count Robert.

  Turning swiftly, I said, "Do you remain here, and make no sound. I shall go below." Belting on my sword, I turned to the door.

  She caught my arm. "No! Please! He will kill you!" Bending my head, I kissed her lightly on the lips and regretted that I must leave.

  "Wait for me. If I die, I take the memory of your lips with me." Adding, for my own information, that I did not intend to die. Too much remained to be done.

  Count Robert was approaching the steps when I appeared on them. "Stand aside," he ordered, "I wish to mount the stairs."

  "At the head of the stairs," I replied, "is one room. It is my room. You have no business there."

  "Stand aside, I said!" His black eyes were cold. "Or I shall spill your innards and walk over them to the room."

  "If you come up these stairs," I said, "we shall see whose innards lie upon them." I drew my sword. "Come, if you wish. You can bite on this steel."

  Coolly, he stepped back and motioned to the men behind him. "I do not fight with commoners. These do it for me."

  "An excuse for cowardice," I replied. Count Robert gestured at the men-at-arms. "Kill him," he said.

  "If they advance one step," a voice called out in a haughty tone that once heard could not be forgotten, "I shall hang the lot of them, and you higher than the rest.

  "I am the Hansgraf Rupert von Gilderstern, of the White Company of traders. This man is a merchant of our company."

  "I have thirty men!" Count Robert declared. "And I have five times that number."

  The Hansgraf stood on the landing inside the door, feet apart, hands clasped behind him. "They are veterans of more than three hundred battles, Count Robert. Any five of my men would take your thirty and spit them like frogs."

  The Hansgraf put a hand on his hip. "If you have had no experience of war with a merchant caravan, Count Robert, this will be a lesson to you, a lesson you would not live to appreciate."

  The Hansgraf stepped down into the room, and a dozen of his men followed after. Months of hard riding in all kinds of weather had darkened and toughened their faces. Their armor bore dents from many conflicts. They were lean, muscular men ready for whatever must be done.

  Count Robert's men lowered their weapons, and giving them an ugly glance, Count Robert strode from the room, followed by his men.

  The Hansgraf held out his hand. "You disappear, then appear again! It is good to see you, Kerbouchard!"

  Then he added, "I would suggest you disguise the lady, and we will go to the market where we are known."

  The Comtesse appeared at the head of the steps. "I am ready, Hansgraf, and you have my thanks." She came down the steps wearing the old cloak worn when we first met in the forest, the hood covering her hair.

  Turning to me, she said, "From the actions of the Count I can see it is not only the rascals who have rascality." She looked up at me. "And not only the nobles, Kerbouchard, who have nobility!"

  35

  THE FAIR AT Provins was one of the largest in France during the twelfth century. There was a fair in May, but the most important was that in September. Now the unseasonably cold, wet weather had disappeared, and the days were warm and sunny.

  Long sheds without walls covered the display of goods. Silks, woolens, armor, weapons, leather goods, hides, pottery, furs, and every conceivable object or style of goods could be found there.

  Around the outer edge of the market where the great merchants had their displays were the peasants, each with some small thing for sale. Grain, hides, vegetables, fruit, goats, pigs, and chickens, as well as handicrafts of various kinds.

  Always there was entertainment, for the fairs attracted magicians, troupes of acrobats, fire-eaters, sword-swallowers, jugglers, and mountebanks of every kind and description. The merchants usually bought and sold by the gross; hence, they were called grossers, a word that eventually came to be spelled grocer. Dealing in smaller amounts allowed too little chance for profit, and too great a quantity risked being left with odds and ends of merchandise. The White Company had come from Spain with silk and added woolens from Flanders. Our preferred trade was for lace, easy to transport and valued wherever we might go.

  Merchants were looked upon with disdain by the nobles, but they were jealous of the increasing wealth and power of such men as the Hansgraf, Lucca, Johannes, or a dozen others among us.

  The wealth of nobles came from loot or ransoms gained in war or the sale of produce from land worked by serfs, and there were times w
hen this amounted to very little. The merchants, however, nearly always found a market for their goods.

  At the Provins fair there were all manner of men and costumes: Franks, Goths, Saxons, Englanders, Normans, Lombards, Moors, Armenians, Jews, and Greeks. Although this trade was less than a century old, changes were coming into being. Some merchants were finding it profitable to settle down in a desirable location and import their goods from the nearest seaport or buy from the caravans.

  Artisans had for some time been moving away from the castles and settling in towns to sell their goods to whoever passed. Cobblers, weavers, coppers, potters, and armorers had begun to set up shops rather than doing piecework on order. The merchant-adventurers were merely distributors of such goods.

  The finest cloth was made in England and Flanders, woven from wool clipped from sheep grazing on the damp grounds near the sea where they grew the finest wool. Cloaks made from this wool were in great demand, and the greater the distance from the point of origin the better the price. This was the reason the Hansgraf and his company had decided upon the venture to Kiev.

  Such cloth was worth fifty times its cost in Kiev, and furs purchased there would bring a fine profit in Byzantium or Italy. Such an extended journey, if successful, could make the fortune of every man present.

  The Church looked upon the merchants with disfavor, for trade was considered a form of usury, and every form of speculation considered a sin. Moreover, they were suspicious of the far-traveling merchants as purveyors of freethinking.

  Change was in the air, but to the merchant to whom change was usual, any kind of permanence seemed unlikely. The doubts and superstitions of the peasants and nobles seemed childish to these men who had wandered far and seen much, exposed to many ideas and ways of living. Yet often the merchant who found a good market kept the information for his own use, bewailing his experience and telling of the dangers en route, anything to keep others from finding his market or his sources of cheap raw material. Regardless of what the Church as an institution felt, the convents, monasteries, and churches were among the merchants' best customers. Vestments worn by Church prelates were usually the product of Moorish weavers. I found them, with few exceptions, eager for books or news and to listen to the experiences of the merchants. Despite attempts to impose a pattern from above, the priests and monks in villages and towns were a part of the change that was altering the face of Europe and tempering its opinions. One such came to my stall in the market to buy a bit of brocade for a vestment. We talked of the material, of Córdoba, of books, and finally of medicine.