CHAPTER XXV
DENYS caught at Gerard, and somewhat checked his fall: but it may bedoubted whether this alone would have saved him from breaking his neckor a limb. His best friend now was the dying bear, on whose hairycarcass his head and shoulders descended. Denys tore him off her. It wasneedless. She panted still, and her limbs quivered, but a hare was notso harmless; and soon she breathed her last: and the judicious Denyspropped Gerard up against her, being soft, and fanned him. He came to bydegrees, but confused, and feeling the bear all around him, rolled awayyelling.
"Courage," cried Denys, "le diable est mort."
"Is it dead? quite dead?" inquired Gerard from behind a tree; for hiscourage was feverish, and the cold fit was on him just now, and had beenfor some time.
"Behold," said Denys, and pulled the brute's ear playfully, and openedher jaws, and put in his head, with other insulting antics; in the midstof which Gerard was violently sick.
Denys laughed at him.
"What is the matter now?" said he, "also why tumble off your perch justwhen we had won the day?"
"I swooned, I trow."
"But _why_?"
Not receiving an answer, he continued, "Green girls faint as soon aslook at you, but then they choose time and place. What woman everfainted up a tree?"
"She sent her nasty blood all over me. I think the smell must haveoverpowered me. Faugh! I hate blood."
"I do believe it potently."
"See what a mess she has made me!"
"But with her blood, not yours. I pity the enemy that strives to satisfyyou."
"You need not to brag, Maitre Denys; I saw you under the tree, thecolour of your shirt."
"Let us distinguish," said Denys colouring: "it is permitted to tremble_for a friend_."
Gerard for answer, flung his arms round Denys's neck in silence.
"Look here," whined the stout soldier, affected by this little gush ofnature and youth, "was ever aught so like a woman? I love thee, littlemilksop, go to. Good! behold him on his knees now. What new caprice isthis?"
"Oh, Denys, ought we not to return thanks to Him who has saved both ourlives against such fearful odds?" And Gerard kneeled and prayed aloud.And presently he found Denys kneeling quiet beside him, with his handsacross his bosom, after the custom of his nation, and a face as long ashis arm. When they arose Gerard's countenance was beaming.
"Good Denys," said he, "Heaven will reward thy piety."
"Ah, bah! I did it out of politeness," said the Frenchman. "It was toplease thee, little one. C'est egal: 'twas well and orderly prayed; andedified me to the core, while it lasted. A bishop had scarce handled thematter better: so now our evensong being sung, and the saints enlistedwith us--marchons."
Ere they had taken two steps, he stopped. "By-the-by, the cub!"
"Oh, no, no!" cried Gerard.
"You are right. It is late: we have lost time climbing trees, andtumbling off 'em, and swooning, and vomiting, and praying, and the bruteis heavy to carry; and, now I think on't, we shall have papa after itnext; these bears make such a coil about an odd cub: what is this? Youare wounded! you are wounded!"
"Not I."
"He is wounded, miserable that I am."
"Be calm, Denys. I am not touched, I feel no pain anywhere."
"You? you only feel when another is hurt," cried Denys, with greatemotion and throwing himself on his knees he examined Gerard's leg withglistening eyes.
"Quick! quick! before it stiffens," he cried: and hurried him on.
"Who makes the coil about nothing now?" inquired Gerard composedly.
Denys's reply was a very indirect one.
"Be pleased to note," said he, "that I have a bad heart. You were manenough to save my life, yet I must sneer at you, a novice in war; wasnot I a novice once myself? then you fainted from a wound, and I thoughtyou swooned for fear, and called you a milksop. Briefly, I have a badtongue and a bad heart."
"Denys!"
"Plait-il?"
"You lie."
"You are very good to say so, little one, and I am eternally obliged toyou," mumbled the remorseful Denys.
Ere they had walked many furlongs, the muscles of the wounded legcontracted and stiffened, till presently Gerard could only just put histoe to the ground, and that with great pain.
At last he could bear it no longer.
"Let me lie down and die," he groaned, "for this is intolerable."
Denys represented that it was afternoon, and the nights were now frosty,and cold and hunger ill companions, and that it would be unreasonable tolose heart, a certain great personage being notoriously defunct. SoGerard leaned upon his axe and hobbled on, but presently he gave in allof a sudden, and sank helpless in the road.
Denys drew him aside into the wood, and to his surprise gave him hiscross-bow and bolts, enjoining him strictly to lie quiet, and if anyill-looking fellows should find him out and come to him, to bid themkeep aloof; and, should they refuse, to shoot them dead at twenty paces."Honest men keep the path, and, knaves in a wood none but fools doparley with them." With this he snatched up Gerard's axe and set offrunning, not, as Gerard expected, toward Dusseldorf, but on the roadthey had come.
Gerard lay aching and smarting, and to him Rome, that seemed so near atstarting, looked far, far, off, now that he was two hundred miles nearerit. But soon all his thoughts turned Sevenbergen-wards. How sweet itwould be one day to hold Margaret's hand and tell her all he had gonethrough for her! The very thought of it, and her, soothed him, and inthe midst of pain and irritation of the nerves he lay resigned, andsweetly, though faintly, smiling.
He had lain thus more than two hours, when suddenly there were shouts,and the next moment something struck a tree hard by and quivered in it.
He looked, it was an arrow.
He started to his feet. Several missiles rattled among the boughs, andthe wood echoed with battle-cries. Whence they came he could not tell,for noises in these huge woods are so reverberated that a stranger isalways at fault as to their whereabout; but they seemed to fill thewhole air. Presently there was a lull: then he heard the fiercegalloping of hoofs; and still louder shouts and cries arose, mingledwith shrieks and groans, and above all strange and terrible sounds likefierce claps of thunder, bellowing loud, and then dying off in crackingechoes; and red tongues of flame shot out ever and anon among the trees,and clouds of sulphureous smoke came drifting over his head: and all wasstill.
Gerard was struck with awe. "What will become of Denys?" he cried. "Ohwhy did you leave me? Oh Denys, my friend, my friend!"
Just before sunset Denys returned, almost sinking under a hairy bundle.It was the bear's skin.
Gerard welcomed him with a burst of joy that astonished him.
"I thought never to see you again, dear Denys: were you in the battle?"
"No. What battle?"
"The bloody battle of men, or fiends, that raged in the wood a whileagone;" and with this he described it to the life, and more fully than Ihave done.
Denys patted him indulgently on the back.
"It is well:" said he, "thou are a good limner; and fever is a greatspur to the imagination. One day I lay in a cart-shed with a crackedskull, and saw two hosts manoeuvre and fight a good hour on eight feetsquare, the which I did fairly describe to my comrade in due order, onlynot so gorgeously as thou, for want of book learning."
"What then you believe me not? when I tell you the arrows whizzed overmy head, and the combatants shouted, and--"
"May the foul fiends fly away with me if I believe a word of it."
Gerard took his arm and quietly pointed to a tree close by.
"Why it looks like--it is--a broad arrow as I live:" and he went closeand looked up at it.
"It came out of the battle. I heard it, and saw it."
"An English arrow."
"How know you that?"
"Marry, by its length. The English bowmen draw the bow to the ear,others only to the right breast. Hence the English loose a three-footshaft, and this is
one of them, perdition seize them. Well, if this isnot glamour there has been a trifle of a battle: and if there has been abattle in so ridiculous a place for a battle as this, why then 'tis nobusiness of mine, for my duke hath no quarrel hereabouts; so let's tobed," said the professional: and with this he scraped together a heap ofleaves, and made Gerard lie on it, his axe by his side: he then lay downbeside him with one hand on his arbalest, and drew the bearskin overthem, hair inward. They were soon as warm as toast and fast asleep.
But long before the dawn Gerard woke his comrade.
"What shall I do, Denys, I die of famine?"
"Do? why go to sleep again incontinent: qui dort dine."
"But I tell you I am too hungry to sleep," snapped Gerard.
"Let us march then," replied Denys, with paternal indulgence.
He had a brief paroxysm of yawns; then made a small bundle of bears'ears, rolling them up in a strip of the skin, cut for the purpose; andthey took the road.
Gerard leaned on his axe, and, propped by Denys on the other side,hobbled along not without sighs.
"I hate pain," said Gerard, viciously.
"Therein you show judgment," replied papa, smoothly.
It was a clear starlight night; and soon the moon rising revealed theend of the wood at no great distance; a pleasant sight, since Dusseldorfthey knew was but a short league further.
At the edge of the wood they came upon something so mysterious that theystopped to gaze at it, before going up to it. Two white pillars rose inthe air, distant a few paces from each other; and between them stoodmany figures, that looked like human forms.
"I go no further till I know what this is," said Gerard, in an agitatedwhisper; "are they effigies of the saints, for men to pray to on theroad? or live robbers waiting to shoot down honest travellers? nay,living men they cannot be, for they stand on nothing that I see. Oh!Denys, let us turn back till daybreak: this is no mortal sight."
Denys halted and peered long and keenly. "They are men," said he, atlast. Gerard was for turning back all the more.
"But men that will never hurt us, nor we them. Look not to their feetfor that they stand on!"
"Where then i' the name of all saints?"
"Look over their heads!" said Denys gravely.
Following this direction, Gerard presently discerned the outline of adark wooden beam passing from pillar to pillar; and, as the pair gotnearer, walking now on tiptoe, one by one dark snakelike cords came outin the moonlight, each pendent from the beam to a dead man, and tight aswire.
Now as they came under this awful monument of crime and wholesalevengeance, a light air swept by; and several of the corpses swung, orgently gyrated, and every rope creaked. Gerard shuddered at this ghastlysalute. So thoroughly had the gibbet with its sickening load seized andheld their eyes, that it was but now they perceived a fire rightunderneath, and a living figure sitting huddled over it. His axe laybeside him, the bright blade shining red in the glow. He was asleep.
Gerard started, but Denys only whispered. "Courage, comrade, here is afire."
"Ay! but there is a man at it."
"There will soon be three," and he began to heap some wood on it thatthe watcher had prepared; during which the prudent Gerard seized theman's axe, and sat down tight on it grasping his own, and examining thesleeper. There was nothing outwardly distinctive in the man. He wore thedress of the country folk, and the hat of the district, a three-corneredhat called a Brunswicker, stiff enough to turn a sword cut, and with athick brass hat-band. The weight of the whole thing had turned his earsentirely down, like a fancy rabbit's in our century; but even this,though it spoiled him as a man, was nothing remarkable. They had of latemet scores of these dog's-eared rustics. The peculiarity was--this clownwatching under a laden gallows. What for?
Denys, if he felt curious, would not show it; he took out two bears'ears from his bundle, and, running sticks through them began to toastthem. "'Twill be eating coined money," said he; "for the burgomaster ofDusseldorf had given us a rix-dollar for these ears, as proving thedeath of their owners; but better a lean purse than a lere stomach."
"Unhappy man!" cried Gerard, "could you eat food _here_?"
"Where the fire is lighted there must the meat roast, and where itroasts there must it be eaten; for nought travels worse than yourroasted meat."
"Well, eat thou, Denys, an thou canst! but I am cold and sick; there isno room for hunger in my heart after what mine eyes have seen," and heshuddered over the fire; "oh! how they creak! and who is this man Iwonder? what an ill-favoured churl!"
Denys examined him like a connoisseur looking at a picture; and in duecourse delivered judgment. "I take him to be of the refuse of thatcompany, whereof these (pointing carelessly upward) were the cream, andso ran their heads into danger."
"At that rate, why not stun him before he wakes?" and Gerard fidgetedwhere he sat.
Denys opened his eyes with humorous surprise. "For one who sets up for amilksop you have the readiest hand. Why should two stun one? tush! hewakes: note now what he says at waking, and tell me."
These last words were hardly whispered when the watcher opened his eyes.At sight of the fire made up, and two strangers eyeing him keenly, hestared, and there was a severe and pretty successful effort to be calm;still a perceptible tremor ran all over him. Soon he manned himself, andsaid gruffly, "Good morrow." But, at the very moment of saying it, hemissed his axe, and saw how Gerard was sitting upon it with his own laidready to his hand. He lost countenance again directly. Denys smiledgrimly at this bit of by-play.
"Good morrow!" said Gerard quietly, keeping his eye on him.
The watcher was now too ill at ease to be silent. "You make free with myfire," said he; but he added in a somewhat faltering voice, "you arewelcome."
Denys whispered to Gerard. The watcher eyed them askant.
"My comrade says, sith we share your fire, you shall share his meat."
"So be it," said the man, warmly. "I have half a kid hanging on a bushhard by, I'll go fetch it;" and he arose with a cheerful and obligingcountenance, and was retiring.
Denys caught up his cross-bow, and levelled it at his head. The man fellon his knees.
Denys lowered his weapon, and pointed him back to his place. He rose andwent back slowly and unsteadily, like one disjointed; and sick at heartas the mouse, that the cat lets go a little way, and then darts andreplaces.
"Sit down, friend," said Denys grimly, in French.
The man obeyed finger and tone, though he knew not a word of French.
"Tell him the fire is not big enough for more than three. He will takemy meaning."
This being communicated by Gerard, the man grinned; ever since Denysspoke he had seemed greatly relieved. "I wist not ye were strangers,"said he to Gerard.
Denys cut a piece of bear's ear, and offered it with grace to him he hadjust levelled cross-bow at.
He took it calmly, and drew a piece of bread from his wallet, anddivided it with the pair. Nay, more, he winked and thrust his hand intothe heap of leaves he sat on (Gerard grasped his axe ready to brain him)and produced a leathern bottle holding full two gallons. He put it tohis mouth, and drank their healths then handed it to Gerard; he passedit untouched to Denys.
"Mort de ma vie!" cried the soldier "it is Rhenish wine, and fit for thegullet of an archbishop. Here's to thee, thou prince of good fellows,wishing thee a short life and a merry one! Come, Gerard, sup! sup!Pshaw, never heed them, man! they heed not thee. Natheless, did I hangover such a skin of Rhenish as this, and three churls sat beneath adrinking it and offered me not a drop I'd soon be down among them."
"Denys! Denys!"
"My spirit would cut the cord and womp would come my body amongst ye,with a hand on the bottle, and one eye winking, t'other--"
Gerard started up with a cry of horror and his fingers to his ears, andwas running from the place, when his eye fell on the watcher's axe. Thetangible danger brought him back. He sat down again on the axe with hisfingers in his ears.
He took a long draught of the Rhenish wine: it ran glowing through hisveins, and warmed and strengthened his heart; but could not check histremors whenever a gust of wind came. As for Denys and the other, theyfeasted recklessly, and plied the bottle unceasingly, and drank healthsand caroused beneath that creaking sepulchre and its ghastly tenants.
"Ask him how they came here," said Denys with his mouthful, and pointingup without looking.
On this question being interpreted to the watcher, he replied thattreason had been their end, diabolical treason and priestcraft. He then,being rendered communicative by drink, delivered a long prosy narrative,the purport of which was as follows. These honest gentlemen who nowdangled here so miserably, were all stout men and true, and lived in theforest by their wits. Their independence and thriving state excited thejealousy and hatred of a large portion of mankind; and many attemptswere made on their lives and liberties; these the Virgin and theirpatron saints, coupled with their individual skill and courage,constantly baffled. But yester-eve a party of merchants came slowly ontheir mules from Dusseldorf. The honest men saw them crawling, and letthem penetrate near a league into the forest, then set upon them to makethem disgorge a portion of their ill-gotten gains. But, alas! themerchants were no merchants at all, but soldiers of more than onenation, in the pay of the Archbishop of Cologne; haubergeons had theybeneath their gowns, and weapons of all sorts at hand; nathless, thehonest men fought stoutly, and pressed the traitors hard, when lo!horsemen, that had been planted in ambush many hours before, gallopedup, and with these new diabolical engines of war, shot leaden bulletsand laid many an honest fellow low, and so quelled the courage of othersthat they yielded them prisoners. These, being taken red-handed, thevictors, who with malice inconceivable had brought cords knotted roundtheir waists, did speedily hang, and by their side the dead ones, tomake the gallanter show. "That one at the end was the captain. He neverfelt the cord. He was riddled with broad arrows and leaden balls or everthey could take him: a worthy man as ever cried 'Stand and deliver!' buta little hasty, not much: stay! I forgot; he is dead. Very hasty, andobstinate as a pig. That one in the buff jerkin is the lieutenant, asgood a soul as ever lived; he was hanged alive: This one here, I nevercould abide; no (not that one; that is Conrad my bosom friend); I meanthis one right overhead in the chicken-toed shoon: you were alwayscarrying tales, ye thief, and making mischief; you know you were; andsirs, I am a man that would rather live united in a coppice than in aforest with backbiters and tale-bearers; strangers, I drink to you." Andso he went down the whole string, indicating with the neck of the bottlelike a showman with his pole and giving a neat description of each,which though pithy was invariably false; for the showman had no real eyefor character and had misunderstood every one of these people.
"Enough palaver!" cried Denys. "Marchons! Give me his axe: now tell himhe must help you along."
The man's countenance fell, but he saw in Denys's eye that resistancewould be dangerous; he submitted. Gerard it was who objected. He said,"Y pensez-vous? to put my hand on a thief, it maketh my flesh creep."
"Childishness! all trades must live. Besides I have my reasons. Be notyou wiser than your elder."
"No. Only if I am to lean on him I must have my hand in my bosom, stillgrasping the haft of my knife."
IN THAT STRANGE AND MIXED ATTITUDE OF TENDER OFFICES ANDDEADLY SUSPICION THE TRIO DID WALK]
"It is a new attitude to walk in; but please thyself."
And in that strange and mixed attitude of tender offices and deadlysuspicion the trio did walk. I wish I could draw them: I would not trustto the pen.
The light of the watch-tower at Dusseldorf was visible as soon as theycleared the wood; and cheered Gerard. When, after an hour's march, theblack outline of the tower itself and other buildings stood out clear tothe eye, their companion halted and said gloomily, "You may as well slayme out of hand as take me any nearer the gates of Dusseldorf town."
On this being communicated to Denys, he said at once, "Let him go then,for in sooth his neck will be in jeopardy if he wends much further withus." Gerard acquiesced as a matter of course. His horror of a criminaldid not in the least dispose him to active co-operation with the law.But the fact is, that at this epoch no private citizen in any part ofEurope ever meddled with criminals but in self-defence, except by-the-byin England, which, behind other nations in some things, was centuriesbefore them all in this.
The man's personal liberty being restored, he asked for his axe. It wasgiven him. To the friends' surprise he still lingered. Was he to havenothing for coming so far out of his way with them?
"Here are two batzen, friend."
"And the wine, the good Rhenish?"
"Did you give aught for it?"
"Ay! the peril of my life."
"Hum! what say you, Denys?"
"I say it was worth its weight in gold. Here, lad, here be silvergroshen, one for every acorn on that gallows tree: and here is one morefor thee--who wilt doubtless be there in due season."
The man took the coins, but still lingered.
"Well? what now?" cried Gerard, who thought him shamefully overpaidalready. "Do'st seek the hide off our bones?"
"Nay, good sirs; but you have seen to-night how parlous a life is mine.Ye be true men, and your prayers avail: give me then a small trifle of aprayer, an't please you; for I know not one."
Gerard's choler began to rise at the egotistical rogue; moreover, eversince his wound he had felt gusts of irritability. However, he bithis lip and said, "There go two words to that bargain; tell me first, isit true what men say of you Rhenish thieves, that ye do murder innocentand unresisting travellers as well as rob them?"
The other answered sulkily, "They you call thieves are not to blame forthat; the fault lies with the law."
"Gramercy! so 'tis the law's fault that ill men break it?"
"I mean not so: but the law in this land slays an honest man an if he dobut steal. What follows? he would be pitiful, but is discouragedherefrom: pity gains him no pity, and doubles his peril: an he but cut apurse his life is forfeit; therefore cutteth he the throat to boot tosave his own neck: dead men tell no tales. Pray then for the poor soul,who by bloody laws is driven to kill or else be slaughtered; were thereless of this unreasonable gibbeting on the high road, there should beless enforced cutting of throats in dark woods, my masters."
"Fewer words had served," replied Gerard, coldly; "I asked a question, Iam answered," and, suddenly doffing his bonnet,
"'Obsecro Deum omnipotentem, ut, qua cruce jam pendent isti quindecim latrones fures et homicidae, in ea homicida fur et latro tu pependeris quam citissime, pro publica salute, in honorem justi Dei cui sit gloria, in aeternum, Amen.'"
"And so good day."
The greedy outlaw was satisfied at last. "That is Latin," he muttered,"and more than I bargained for." So indeed it was.
And he returned to his business with a mind at ease. The friendspondered in silence the many events of the last few hours.
At last Gerard said, thoughtfully, "That she-bear saved both ourlives--by God's will."
"Like enough," replied Denys; "and talking of that, it was lucky we didnot dawdle over our supper."
"What mean you?"
"I mean they are not all hanged; I saw a refuse of seven or eight asblack as ink around our fire."
"When? when?"
"Ere we had left it five minutes."
"Good heavens! And you said not a word."
"It would but have worried you, and had set our friend a looking back,and mayhap tempted him to get his skull split. All other danger wasover; they could not see us, we were out of the moonshine and indeed,just turning a corner; ah! there is the sun; and here are the gate
s ofDusseldorf. Courage, l'ami; le diable est mort."
"My head! my head!" was all poor Gerard could reply.
So many shocks, emotions, perils, horrors, added to the wound, hisfirst, had tried his youthful body and sensitive nature, too severely.
* * * * *
It was noon of the same day.
In a bedroom of "The Silver Lion" the rugged Denys sat anxious, watchinghis young friend.
And he lay raging with fever, delirious at intervals, and one word forever on his lips:
"Margaret!--Margaret!--Margaret!"
The Cloister and the Hearth: A Tale of the Middle Ages Page 26
