CHAPTER XIX
GERARD, warned by recent peril, rose before daybreak, and waked Martin.The old soldier was astonished. He thought Gerard had escaped by thewindow last night. Being consulted as to the best way for him to leavethe country and elude pursuit, he said there was but one road safe. "Imust guide you through the great forest to a bridle-road I know of. Thiswill take you speedily to a hostelry, where they will lend you a swifthorse: and then a day's gallop will take you out of Holland. But let usstart ere the folk here quit their beds."
Peter's house was but a furlong and a half from the forest. Theystarted, Martin with his bow and three arrows, for it was Thursday:Gerard with nothing but a stout oak staff Peter gave him for thejourney.
Margaret pinned up her kirtle and farthingale, for the road was wet.Peter went as far as his garden hedge with them, and then, with moreemotion than he often bestowed on passing events, gave the young man hisblessing.
The sun was peeping above the horizon as they crossed the stony fieldand made for the wood. They had crossed about half, when Margaret, whokept nervously looking back every now and then, uttered a cry, and,following her instinct, began to run towards the wood, screaming withterror all the way.
Ghysbrecht and his men were in hot pursuit.
Resistance would have been madness. Martin and Gerard followedMargaret's example. The pursuers gained slightly on them; but Martinkept shouting, "Only win the wood! only win the wood!"
They had too good a start for the men on foot, and their hearts boundedwith hope at Martin's words, for the great trees seemed now to stretchtheir branches like friendly arms towards them, and their leaves like ascreen.
But an unforeseen danger attacked them. The fiery old burgomaster flunghimself on his mule, and, spurring him to a gallop, he headed not hisown men only but the fugitives. His object was to cut them off. The oldman came galloping in a semicircle, and got on the edge of the wood,right in front of Gerard; the others might escape for ought he cared.
Margaret shrieked and tried to protect Gerard by clasping him; but heshook her off without ceremony.
Ghysbrecht in his ardor forgot that hunted animals turn on the hunter;and that two men can hate, and two can long to kill the thing they hate.
Instead of attempting to dodge him, as the burgomaster made sure hewould, Gerard flew right at him with a savage, exulting cry, and struckat him with all his heart and soul and strength. The oak staff came downon Ghysbrecht's face with a frightful crash, and laid him under hismule's tail beating the devil's tattoo with his heels, his facestreaming, and his collar spattered with blood.
The next moment, the three were in the wood. The yell of dismay andvengeance that burst from Ghysbrecht's men at that terrible blow whichfelled their leader, told the fugitives that it was now a race for lifeor death.
"Why run?" cried Gerard panting. "You have your bow; and I have this:"and he shook his bloody staff.
"Boy!" roared Martin; "The GALLOWS! Follow me!" and he fled into thewood. Soon they heard a cry like a pack of hounds opening on sight ofthe game. The men were in the wood, and saw them flitting amongst thetrees. Margaret moaned and panted, as she ran; and Gerard clenched histeeth, and grasped his staff. The next minute they came to a stiff hazelcoppice. Martin dashed into it, and shouldered the young wood aside asif it were standing corn.
Ere they had gone fifty yards in it they came to four blind paths.
Martin took one. "Bend low," said he: and, half creeping, they glidedalong. Presently their path was again intersected with other littletortuous paths. They took one of them; it seemed to lead back, but itsoon took a turn, and after a while brought them to a thick pine grovewhere the walking was good and hard: there were no paths here and theyoung fir-trees were so thick you could not see three yards before yournose.
When they had gone some way in this, Martin sat down, and having learnedin war to lose all impression of danger with the danger itself took apiece of bread and a slice of ham out of his wallet, and began quietlyto eat his breakfast.
The young ones looked at him with dismay. He replied to their looks.
"All Sevenbergen could not find you now; you will lose your purse Gerardlong before you get to Italy: is that the way to carry a purse?"
Gerard looked, and there was a large triangular purse, entangled by itschains to the buckle and strap of his wallet.
"This is none of mine," said he. "What is in it, I wonder?" and he triedto detach it: but in passing through the coppice it had becomeinextricably entangled in his strap and buckle. "It seems loath to leaveme," said Gerard, and he had to cut it loose with his knife. The purse,on examination proved to be well provided with silver coins of allsizes, but its bloated appearance was greatly owing to a number ofpieces of brown paper folded and doubled. A light burst on Gerard. "Whyit must be that old thief's? and see! stuffed with paper to deceive theworld!"
The wonder was, how the burgomaster's purse came on Gerard.
They hit at last upon the right solution. The purse must have been atGhysbrecht's saddle-bow, and Gerard rushing at his enemy, hadunconsciously torn it away, thus felling his enemy and robbing him, witha single gesture.
Gerard was delighted at this feat, but Margaret was uneasy.
"Throw it away, Gerard, or let Martin take it back. Already they callyou a thief. I cannot bear it."
"Throw it away? give it him back? not a stiver. This is spoil lawfullywon in battle from an enemy. Is it not, Martin?"
"Why of course. Send him back the brown paper and you will; but thepurse or the coin--that were a sin."
"Oh, Gerard!" said Margaret, "you are going to a distant land. We needthe good-will of Heaven. How can we hope for that, if we take what isnot ours?"
But Gerard saw it in a different light.
"It is Heaven that gives it me by a miracle, and I shall cherish itaccordingly," said this pious youth. "Thus the favoured people spoiledthe Egyptians, and were blessed."
"Take your own way," said Margaret, humbly, "you are wiser than I am.You are my husband," added she, in a low murmuring voice; "is it for meto gainsay you?"
These humble words from Margaret, who till that day had held the whiphand rather surprised Martin for the moment. They recurred to him sometime afterwards, and then they surprised him less.
Gerard kissed her tenderly in return for her wife-like docility, andthey pursued their journey hand-in-hand, Martin leading the way, intothe depths of the huge forest. The farther they went the more absolutelysecure from pursuit they felt. Indeed the townspeople never ventured sofar as this into the trackless part of the forest.
Impetuous natures repent quickly. Gerard was no sooner out of alldanger, than his conscience began to prick him.
"Martin, would I had not struck quite so hard."
"Whom? Oh! let that pass; he is cheap served."
"Martin, I saw his grey hairs as my stick fell on him. I doubt they willnot from my sight this while."
Martin grunted with contempt. "Who spares a badger for his grey hairs?The greyer your enemy is, the older; and the older the craftier; and thecraftier the better for a little killing."
"Killing? Killing, Martin? speak not of killing!" And Gerard shook allover.
"I am much mistook if you have not," said Martin cheerfully.
"Now Heaven forbid!"
"The old vagabone's skull cracked like a walnut. Aha!"
"Heaven and the saints forbid it!"
"He rolled off his mule like a stone shot out of a cart. Said I tomyself, 'there is one wiped out.'" And the iron old soldier grinnedruthlessly.
Gerard fell on his knees, and began to pray for his enemy's life.
At this Martin lost his patience. "Here's mummery. What, you that set upfor learning, know you not that a wise man never strikes his enemy butto kill him? And what is all this coil about killing of old men? If ithad been a young one now, with the joys of life waiting for him, wine,women, and pillage? But an old fellow at the edge of the grave, why_not_ shove him in? Go he must, to-day o
r to-morrow; and what betterplace for greybeards? Now, if ever I should be so mischancy as to lastso long as Ghysbrecht did, and have to go on a mule's legs instead ofMartin Wittenhaagen's, and a back like this (striking the wood of hisbow), instead of this (striking the string), I'll thank and bless anyyoung fellow, who will knock me on the head, as you have done that oldshopkeeper; malison on his memory."
"Oh, culpa mea! culpa mea!" cried Gerard, and smote upon his breast.
"Look there," said Martin to Margaret scornfully, "_he is a priest atheart still_: and when he is not in ire, St. Paul, what a milk-sop!"
"Tush, Martin!" cried Margaret reproachfully: then she wreathed her armsround Gerard, and comforted him with the double magic of a woman's senseand a woman's voice.
"Sweetheart!" murmured she, "you forget: you went not a step out of theway to harm him who hunted you to your death. You fled from him. He itwas who spurred on you. Then did you strike; but in self-defence and asingle blow, and with that which was in your hand. Malice had drawnknife, or struck again and again. How often have men been smitten withstaves not one but many blows, yet no lives lost! If then your enemy hasfallen, it is through his own malice, not yours, and by the will ofGod."
"Bless you, Margaret, bless you for thinking so!"
"Yes, but, beloved one; if you have had the _misfortune_ to kill thatwicked man, the more need is there that you fly with haste from Holland.Oh! let us on."
"Nay, Margaret," said Gerard. "I fear not man's vengeance, thanks toMartin here, and this thick wood: only Him I fear whose eye pierces theforest, and reads the heart of man. If I but struck in self-defence,'tis well; but if in hate, He may bid the avenger of blood follow me toItaly; to Italy? ay, to earth's remotest bounds."
"Hush!" said Martin, peevishly. "I can't hear for your chat."
"What is it?"
"Do you hear nothing, Margaret? My ears are getting old."
Margaret listened, and presently she heard a tuneful sound, like asingle stroke upon a deep ringing bell. She described it so to Martin.
"Nay, I heard it," said he.
"And so did I," said Gerard: "it was beautiful. Ah! there it is again.How sweetly it blends with the air. It is a long way off. It is beforeus; is it not?"
"No, no! the echoes of this wood confound the ear of a stranger. Itcomes from the pine grove."
"What the one we passed?"
"The one we passed?"
"Why, Martin, is this _anything_? You look pale."
"Wonderful!" said Martin, with a sickly sneer. "He asks me is it_anything_? Come, on, on! at any rate, let us reach a better place thanthis."
"A better place--for what?"
"To stand at bay, Gerard," said Martin gravely: "and die like soldiers,killing three for one."
"What's that sound?"
"IT IS THE AVENGER OF BLOOD."
"Oh, Martin, save him! Oh, Heaven be merciful! What new mysterious perilis this?"
"GIRL, IT'S A BLOODHOUND."
The Cloister and the Hearth: A Tale of the Middle Ages Page 20
