The Winning of the Golden Spurs

by Percy F. Westerman

  CHAPTER XI

  THE CHIRURGEON OF LEGUE

  WITH a powerful following wind, _Les Trois Freres_ made a rapidpassage down the harbour, and, before Raymond fully realised thefact, the little vessel was lifting to the gentle heave of theChannel.

  By midday the chalk cliffs of the Isle of Wight were all that wasvisible of the shores of England, and, though a careful watch waskept for hostile ships, not a sail was to be seen on the wide expanseof water.

  The master, Pierre de la Corbiere, was a huge-limbed, swarthyGuernseyman, who spoke in a guttural patois that was almostunintelligible to the young squire, though Redward, to whom most ofthe dialects of France were familiar, could make himself understoodwith comparative ease.

  Nine men and a boy composed the crew, a large one for so small acraft; but the perils of war, added to the dangers of the sea, were asufficient excuse for their numbers. Each man, picturesquely clothedand wearing silver earrings, was a trained pilot, and most of themhad served in that capacity on board the ships that had on pastoccasions taken the King and his troops to France and Flanders. Allof them carried short daggers or knives in their belts, while a largechest, lashed to ringbolts in the deck, contained a good supply ofswords and axes.

  "If this wind lasts," remarked the master, "we shall sight Cap de laHogue within a couple of hours. Whither would ye land, good sir?"

  "Nay, I know not," replied Redward. "And, moreover, I care not, solong as it be not too close to the town."

  "There are the ports of Quimper, Doualan, Auray, and Morbihan," saidPierre, counting them on his fingers. "All of easy distance fromHennebon--though, perchance, we may receive a rough handling when wearrive. Ma foi! And the passage of the Chenal du Four 'Twould bequicker and safer to run into St. Brieuc."

  "St. Brieuc!" exclaimed Redward, referring to a very rough plan."Why, 'tis at least twenty leagues from the town to which wejourney."

  "Twenty leagues by land, as ye say," replied the Guernseymandoggedly. "But if 'tis a question of time, commend me to St. Brieuc,for if we lose the wind or have a contrary wind off Ushant, it maymean a week's buffeting in the Chenal du Four, with a score of reefsand unseen rocks on each side of us."

  "As ye will, then," assented Redward; and he moved away to tellRaymond of the alteration of their plans.

  But the young squire was in no fit mood to be informed. The long,swinging motion and the heat of the sun had done their work, and helay prone on the deck in the miseries of sea-sickness. Knowing thatany attempt at consolation would only aggravate the malady, themaster-bowman turned away, and, leaning against the low bulwarks,gazed intently towards the still invisible French coast.

  Late in the afternoon the grey cliffs of La Hogue and the darkoutline of the Isle of Aurigny were sighted; but just before sundownthe wind died utterly away, leaving the little craft wallowingheavily in the long swell, her sail flapping idly against the mast.

  The sky, hitherto clear and cloudless, was now overcast, and awaytowards the southward a succession of flashes of lightning betokenedan approaching storm.

  Even Pierre de la Corbiere, bold fisherman as he was, looked anxious,for the vessel was now beginning to feel the influence of thedreadful Race of Alderney, and, with a lack of wind and a dark nightto boot, the terrors of the Race were considerably magnified.

  About midnight they were in the thick of it. A slight breeze hadsprung up, but barely sufficient to give the boat steerage-way. Allaround were tremendous broken waves, and, although Pierre stoodgripping the tiller in an endeavour to avoid the heaviest breakers,the boat was urged onwards through the Race at the rate that a horsewould trot, her mast threatening to snap under the irregular actionof the vicious cross seas.

  Throughout the tumult Raymond lay like a log, utterly unmindful ofthe danger, his illness having completely overcome him. His fathertook the precaution to lash him to the mast, and throughout thatfearful night Redward remained by his side, making endless vows tothe saints, which he heartily meant to fulfil should they ever againreach dry land.

  Fortunately the threatened storm passed away, and as daylight broke_Les Trois Freres_ was beyond the influence of the Race, Guernsey andits attendant islands, Sark and Herm, being plainly visible.

  With a skill acquired by long years of experience, the Guernseymansteered his craft between the islands, taking advantage of everycurrent that would help to bear them south, and, before the sun washigh, the Island of Jersey was abeam. The waters, too, were dottedwith the sails of fishing boats, forming a pleasing contrast to thedreary waste of water they had traversed on the previous day.

  Worn out and faint from the effect of his long fast, Raymond sat upand looked around, as if unable to bring himself to recall hissurroundings; but after a scanty meal of dry bread and water, he feltthe giddiness leave him, and with an effort he stood on his feet,gripping his father tightly for fear of falling.

  "Where are we?" he asked dejectedly.

  "Nearly there," replied Redward. "A sailorman thou'lt be some day,but beshrew me if thou lookest like one now! An hour ashore will makeall the difference; but rest awhile, my son, for there's work enowere long for both of us."

  Late in the afternoon _Les Trois Freres_ entered St. Brieuc Bay, thehigh ground showing up distinctly, while far away they could discernthe lofty Bretagne hills, that lay between them and theirdestination; and, just as the sun was sinking low behind the Brittanycoast, the little craft brought up under the shadow of the gloomycastle of Cesson.

  Redward and the master conferred long and anxiously on the subject ofhow to gain the shore without observation, but at length a lightdawned upon the dull mind of the Guernseyman.

  "Thou hast said well," he remarked. "Of a truth we cannot make surewhether they of St. Brieuc are for the Countess of Montfort oragainst her. And none of us wishes to put his head into the wolf'smouth. But I know of a man--a foster-brother of mine--at whose houseye could stay until the way is clear for ye to journey acrosscountry. He dwells at Legue, but a mile from St. Brieuc, and I willgo ashore and converse with him."

  Silently and in the now black night the little skiff was lowered, andPierre de la Corbiere was rowed ashore by two of his men.

  For nearly two hours Redward and the young squire remained on board,anxiously listening for the sound of oars, till at length the littleboat shot noiselessly alongside, and the master sprang upon the deck.

  "'Tis easily done, though they of Blois hold the town," he exclaimedbreathlessly. "Raoul de Rohein, of whom I spoke, is willing toreceive you, for which service he demands five sols. He is a barberand chirurgeon, and lives in the Rue Mortbec. Hasten, ere it belight, for we must leave on top o' the tide."

  Once more the skiff, deeply laden, started for the shore. Raymond, inhis light armour, had discarded his surcoat with the conspicuouscross of St. George, Redward in his harness could hardly bedistinguished from a Breton, and could rely upon his knowledge of theFrench tongue to pass for a Gascon, or a Burgundian, as occasionserved. With them went Pierre de la Corbiere and a sailor, both ofwhom rowed while the squire and his father sat in the stern-sheets.

  Half-an-hour's steady pulling and the skiff grounded on the sandyshore. Silently the three disembarked, leaving the seaman to lookafter the boat, and quickly they made their way towards the house ofrefuge.

  Suddenly the master stopped. "_Mon Dieu_," he exclaimed, "_c'est lesgardes!_"

  Coming straight towards them was a body of halberdiers, accompaniedby an officer. Retreat, without arousing suspicion, was impossible;but in a few words the ever-resourceful Redward had devised a plan.Raymond lay down in the road, his father lifted him by the shoulderswhile Pierre took him by the feet, and, staggering under their heavyburden, they advanced to meet the watch.

  "_Halte! Qui v'la?_" demanded the officer, flashing a lantern uponthe trio.

  "'Tis le Sieur d'Erqui, Monsieur," replied the Guernseyman, speakingin a patois which is common between the Bretons and the ChannelIslanders. "He has been roystering and brawling, and has been sorehur
t."

  "One cannot put old heads on young shoulders," remarked the officer,with a deprecating shrug. "What folly hash he been at?"

  "I cannot say, monsieur."

  "Eh, bien! All the wine-shops will have the tale to-morrow! _Enavant, mes enfants!_" he added to his men, and to the great relief ofRaymond and his companions the watch shouldered their halberts andmoved on towards St. Brieuc.

  "A narrow escape," exclaimed Pierre, crossing himself. "If we werediscovered, three against seven would be long odds."

  "I've been in a worse fix before to-day," replied Redward sturdily."And we could have taken them by surprise."

  "Nevertheless, fighting is not in my line--on land, at least--and Iam thankful it did not come to blows."

  At length they arrived at a narrow street, where storeys of thehouses projected beyond those below, till the uppermost ones appearedalmost to meet, shutting out even the dim gloom of the nowstarlit-sky.

  With the air of a man who feels certain of his ground Pierre stroderapidly ahead, the others following closely at his heels. Presentlyhe stopped outside a house, and drawing his dagger, struck lightlyupon the door with the hilt. After a few seconds' delay they heardthe sound of some one moving within, and the door was carefullyunbarred and thrown open.

  Pierre whispered a few words to the occupant, then, bidding hisformer passengers farewell, he turned on his heel and walked swiftlyand silently towards the shore.

  The Englishmen followed their host into a low, ill-lighted room, andfor the first time they were able to see what manner of man he was.

  A misshapen, undersized body, surmounted by a lean, yellow-skinnedface, and furnished with a pair of long arms, the hands of which,shaking as if with ague, resembled the claws of a bird, formed theoutward appearance of the barber and chirurgeon of Legue; and Raymondcould not repress a shudder as he gazed upon this caricature of ahuman being.

  "Ye are for Hennebon?" he asked in a quavering tone, rolling hislustreless eyes from one to the other.

  "Ay," replied Redward, "but how, by Saint Gregoire of Brittany, didstthou know?"

  "The shipman, my foster-brother, hath told me. But the money, themoney?" he added, opening his withered hand.

  "A curse on the shipman," growled Redward to himself, "his tonguewill be our undoing. Here, take this," he added, counting out a sumof money equivalent to the five sols demanded. "Canst furnish us witha horse apiece?"

  Ignoring the question, the barber counted the pieces, putting eachcoin between his toothless gums, as if doubtful of their quality.

  "Didst hear me--respecting the use of two horses?" demanded Redwardsternly.

  "Yea, noble master," replied the barber. "But there are none to behad."

  "None?"

  "None! They have all been seized by those of Blois till the affair isover. Therefore, by necessity, ye must go afoot--and the roads arevery unsafe for travellers at present, especially Englishmen boundfor Hennebon!"

  "A pest on your words! What would ye have us do?"

  The old man advanced a step, peering with his bleared eyes into theface of the master-bowman.

  "For money there is much to be had!" he croaked, a sardonic smileoverspreading his withered face, while his long fingers clawedinvisible heaps of gold.

  "Out on thee for an arrant cheat! Give thy plan and name the price."

  Slowly and deliberately, his voice hardly above a whisper, the Bretonreplied: "Did it ever occur to thy noble self that the dress of aleper would make the best protection?"

  Redward recoiled, in spite of his hardened nerves, for sufferers fromthat loathsome and incurable disease were far from rare in WesternEurope in those days. In France they were compelled by law to wearlong grey gowns and hoods, and to carry a "barillet," or rattle, togive due warning of their approach. Under severe penalties they wereforbidden to remain in the larger cities and towns, or to beg or usetheir rattle for the purpose of exciting pity. Thus it was common tosee them wandering over the countryside in pairs, their approachbeing the signal for other wayfarers to pass them at a safedistance.[1]

  "But the dress?" asked Redward.

  "That is easily to be had. I have a stock of them in this house. Andthe price----"

  "They have not been used?" interrupted the master-bowman anxiously.

  "Certainly not, monsieur," replied the barber, with a hideous leer."'Twould be impossible. But the price I ask--and they be of goodquality--is but one livre, five sols--quite a small sum for a wealthygentleman like monsieur!"

  At that moment a loud rapping was heard. The squire and his fathersprang up, and, suspecting danger, their hands flew to theirsword-hilts.

  With a motion of his hand, their host indicated that they should hidebehind a heavy curtain; then, taking a torch from its socket, he madetowards the door.

  After considerable parleying the nocturnal visitor was admitted, and,through a small hole in the mouldy curtain, Redward could see himwithout risk. That he was a man of quality was apparent by the longfurred gown he wore; and further, by the length of the garment andits rich violet colour, and the mortier or silk cap, ornamented withValenciennes lace, worn instead of the hat affected by the bourgeois,his rank was of importance.

  "Art thou Raoul de Rohein, the chirurgeon?" he asked, in a lispingvoice, flourishing a musk-perfumed handkerchief as if to ward off thehideous shape before him.

  "At thy service, my lord--barber, chirurgeon, apothecary, having beenduly examined and licensed by the great John Pitart, surgeon of theChatelet of Paris."

  "'Tis well! I am the Sieur d'Erqui, and I am bound for the army ofCharles of Blois, that lieth before Hennebon. In camps one has alwaysthe fear of plague. Therefore, believing that forewarned isforearmed, I come to thee for a remedy or, rather, apreventative--'gainst the fell disorder."

  "I have the very thing, monsieur! But five sols nine deniers thebox--the nine deniers being devoted to the funds of the hospital ofSt. Brieuc, _bien entendu!_ By the holy St. Mark, the very thing! Amixture of sulphur, viper's cake, powder of pearls, confection ofhyacinth, and an extract of the juice of _scorsonera_, all preparedaccording to the recipe of the learned John Pitart, and made intotablets covered with gold foil. One drachm three times a week, in themorning, is the dose, monsieur, and if exposed to the infection twodrachms before going to bed!"

  "And is that all?" inquired the Sieur anxiously, as if the presenceof the barber was a presage of the plague.

  "Nay, of thine own ordering there is much to be done. I perceive thatmonsieur carries the perfume of musk about with him. That is wrong.Instead, let him take a citron pricked with cloves. Never walk outfasting, neither drink wine immoderately; and, in the case ofimmediate danger, take a little theriaque; and I'll warrant Erquiwill welcome its Sieur home in due course. And the fee, monsieur, is,as I said, seven sols nine deniers."

  "But now thou didst ask five sols and nine deniers!"

  "Two sols in addition for the advice--excellent advice, monsieur._Merci, monsieur, et bon voyage!_"

  The Sieur had gone, and Raymond and his father came from theirhiding-place. Redward explained to his son, in a few words, thenature of their disguise. Once again the talon-like hand of themiserly Raoul closed over the money, and away he went to look for therequired garments.

  In a few moments he returned. The Englishmen donned the repulsiveinsignia of the leper, and took the barillets in their hands. Thebarber again unfastened the door and listened intently for any sound.There was none.

  "Take the road through the village; it leads to Pontivy. There,perchance, ye may find horses. Fare ye well!"

  And, passing out into the darkness of the night, the Englishmen begantheir long journey afoot, stealing silently through the almostdeserted streets towards the frowning hills of Brittany.

  [1] It was not until thirty years later that the hospitals of St.Lazare and St. Germain were founded in Paris for the relief of theseunfortunate sufferers. On systematic steps being taken to deal withthe malady, the number of its victims quickly diminished; t
ill thescourge was practically wiped out.