CHAPTER XVI
AT AVIGNON
Hard upon two months had gone by when at length these three, Hugh,Grey Dick, and David Day, set eyes upon the towers of stately Avignonstanding red against the sunset and encircled by the blue waters of theRhone. Terrible beyond imagination had been the journey of these men,who followed in the footsteps of Murgh. They saw him not, it is true,but always they saw his handiwork. Death, death, everywhere death,nothing but death!
One night they supped at an inn with the host, his family and servants,twelve folk in all, in seeming health. When they rose in the morningone old woman and a little child alone remained; the rest were deador dying. One day they were surprised and taken by robbers, desperateoutcasts of the mountains, who gave them twenty-four hours to "maketheir peace with heaven"--ere they hanged them because they had slain somany of the band before they were overpowered.
But when those twenty-four hours of grace had elapsed, it would havebeen easy for them to hang all who remained of those robbers themselves.So they took the best of their horses and their ill-gotten gold and rodeon again, leaving the murderers murdered by a stronger power than man.
They went through desolate villages, where the crops rotted in thefields; they went through stricken towns whereof the moan and the stenchrose in a foul incense to heaven; they crossed rivers where the veryfish had died by thousands, poisoned of the dead that rolled seawardin their waters. The pleasant land had become a hell, and untouched,unharmed, they plodded onward through those deeps of hell. But a nightor two before they had slept in a city whereof the population, or thosewho remained alive of them, seemed to have gone mad. In one place theydanced and sang and made love in an open square. In another bandsof naked creatures marched the streets singing hymns and floggingthemselves till the blood ran down to their heels, while the passers-byprostrated themselves before them. These were the forerunners of the"Mad Dancers" of the following year.
In a field outside of this city they came upon even a more dreadfulsight. Here forty or fifty frenzied people, most of them drunk, wereengaged in burning a poor Jew, his wife and two children upon a greatfire made of the staves of wine-casks, which they had plundered fromsome neighbouring cellars. When Hugh and his companions came upon thescene the Jew had already burned and this crowd of devils were preparingto cast his wife and children into the flames, which they had beenforced to see devour their husband and father. Indeed, with yells ofbrutal laughter, they were thrusting the children into two great casksere they rolled them into the heart of the fire, while the wretchedmother stood by and shrieked.
"What do you, sirs?" asked Hugh, riding up to them.
"We burn wizards and their spawn, Sir Knight," answered the ringleader."Know that these accursed Jews have poisoned the wells of our town--wehave witnesses who saw them do it--and thus brought the plague uponus. Moreover, she," and he pointed to the woman--"was seen talking notfourteen days ago to the devil in a yellow cap, who appears everywherebefore the Death begins. Now, roll them in, roll them in!"
Hugh drew his sword, for this sight was more than his English flesh andblood could bear. Dick also unsheathed the black bow, while young Davidproduced a great knife which he carried.
"Free those children!" said Hugh to the man with whom he had spoken, afat fellow, with rolling, bloodshot eyes.
"Get you to hell, stranger," he answered, "or we'll throw you on thefire also as a Jew in knight's dress."
"Free those children!" said Hugh again in a terrible voice, "or I sendyou before them. Be warned! I speak truth."
"Be you warned, stranger, for I speak truth also," replied the man,mimicking him. "Now friends," he added, "tuck up the devil's brats intheir warm bed."
They were his last words, for Hugh thrust with his sword and down hewent.
Now a furious clamour arose. The mob snatched up burning staves,bludgeons, knives or whatever they had at hand, and prepared to kill thethree. Without waiting for orders, Dick began to shoot. David, a boldyoung man, rushed at one of the most violent and stabbed him, and Hugh,who had leapt from his horse, set himself back to back with the othertwo. Thrice Dick shot, and at the third deadly arrow these drunkenfellows grew sober enough to understand that they wished no more ofthem.
Suddenly, acting on a common impulse, they fled away, every one, onlyleaving behind them those who had fallen beneath the arrows and thesword. But some who were so full of wine that they could not run,tumbled headlong and lay there helpless.
"Woman," said Hugh when they had departed, "your husband is lost, butyou and your children are saved. Now go your ways and thank whatever Godyou worship for His small mercies."
"Alas! Sir Knight," the poor creature, a still young and not unhandsomeJewess, wailed in answer, "whither shall I go? If I return to that townthose Christian men will surely murder me and my children as they havealready murdered my husband. Kill us now by the sword or the bow--itwill be a kindness--but leave us not here to be tortured by theChristian men according to their fashion with us poor Jews."
"Are you willing to go to Avignon?" asked Hugh, after thinking awhile.
"Ay, Sir Knight, or anywhere away from these Christians. Indeed, atAvignon I have a brother who perchance will protect us."
"Then mount my horse," said Hugh. "Dick and David, draw those twoyoungsters from the tubs and set them on your beasts; we can walk."
So the children, two comely little girls of eight and six years of age,or thereabout, were dragged out of their dreadful prisons and lifted tothe saddle. The wretched widow, running to the bonfire, snatched from ither husband's burnt-off hand and hid it in the bosom of her filthy robe.Then she took some of the white ashes and threw them toward that city,muttering curses as she did so.
"What do you?" asked Hugh curiously.
"I pray, sir, to Jehovah, the God of the Jews, that for every grainof these ashes He may take a life in payment for that of my murderedhusband, and I think that He will listen."
"Like enough," answered Hugh, crossing himself, "but, woman, can youwonder that we Christians hold you sorcerers when we hear such prayersfrom your lips?"
She turned with a tragic motion, and, pointing to the bones of herhusband smouldering in the fire, answered:
"And can you wonder, sir, that we wretched creatures utter such prayerswhen you, our masters, do such deeds as this?"
"No," answered Hugh, "I cannot. Let us be going from this shambles."
So they went, a melancholy procession if ever there one was seen uponthis earth. As the three Englishmen marched behind the horses with theirweeping burdens Grey Dick reflected aloud after his fashion.
"Jew and Christian!" he said. "The Jews killed one Man who chanced tobe a God, though they knew it not, and ever since the Christians havekilled thousands of the Jews. Now, which is the most wicked, those Jewswho killed the Man Who was a God, because He said He was a God, or thoseChristians who throw a man into a fire to burn before his wife's andchildren's eyes? A man who never said that he was a god, but who, theysaid, put poison into their wells, which he did not do, but which theybelieved he did because he was one of the race that thirteen hundredyears ago killed their God? Ah, well! Jew and Christian, I think thesame devil dwells in them all, but Murgh alone knows the truth of thematter. If ever we meet again, I'll ask him of it. Meanwhile, we go toAvignon in strange company, whereof all the holy priests yonder, if anyof them still live, to say nothing of the people, may demand an accountof us."
So spoke Dick as one who seeks an answer, but neither of his companionsgave him any.
On they went through the ruined land unpursued, although they had justbrought sundry men to their deaths. For now neither law nor justicewas left and those killed who could and those died who must, unwept andunavenged. Only certain travellers, flying they knew not whither, flyingfrom doom to doom, eyed them with hate and loathing because of theircompanions. Those who consorted with Jews must, they thought, be theenemies of every Christian soul.
Well was it for them perhaps that the early
winter night was closingin when they reached the wonderful bridge of St. Benezet, now quiteunguarded, since a worse foe reigned in Avignon than any that it couldfear from without. They crossed it, unnoted, for here none lingered inthe gloom and rain save one poor woman, who called out to them that allshe loved were dead and that she went to seek them. Then, before theycould interfere, she scrambled to the parapet of the bridge and with awild cry leapt into the foaming waters that rushed beneath.
"God forgive and rest her!" muttered Hugh, crossing himself. The othersonly shrugged their shoulders. Such dreadful sights fed their eyes dailytill they learned to take little note of them.
In a deserted place on the farther side of the bridge they halted, andHugh said to the Jewish widow:
"Woman, here is Avignon, where you tell us there are those who willbefriend you, so now let us part. We have done what we can for you andit is not safe either for you or for us that we should be seen togetherin this Christian city."
"Sir, you speak well," she answered. "Be pleased ere we separate, tomeet no more perchance, to tell me your names that I may remember themand hand them down among my people from generation to generation."
So he told her, and thrust onto her a gift of money and the most of suchfood as remained to them. Then the poor woman lifted up her arms andsaid:
"I, Rebecca, daughter of Onias and wife of Nathan, call down on you,Hugh de Cressi, Richard Archer and David Day, and on your childrenforever, the blessings of Jehovah, because you have rescued the widowand her children from the fire and avenged the murder of the husbandand the father. O God of my people, as Thou didst save Lot and his housefrom the flames of Sodom, so save these true-hearted and merciful men!Turn from them the sword of Thy wrath when it smites the sinful cities!Cast the cloak of Thy protection about them and all they love! Prospertheir handiwork in peace and in war, fulfil their desire upon theirenemies, and at last let them die full of years and honour and so begathered into Thy eternal bosom! Thus prayeth Rebecca, the daughter ofOnias, and thus shall it be."
Then, leading her children, she turned and vanished into the darkness.
"Now," said Dick when she had gone, "although they were spoken by a Jewwhom men call accursed because their forefathers, fulfilling prophecy,or some few of them, wrought a great crime when the world was young andthereby brought about the salvation of mankind, as we believe, thoseare among the most comfortable words to which my ears have listened,especially such of them as dealt with the fulfilling of our desire uponour enemies in war. Well, they are spoke, and I doubt not registered ina book which will not be lost. So, master, let us seek a lodging in thiscity of Avignon, which, for my part, I do with a light heart."
Hugh nodded, and his heart also was lightened by those words of blessingand good omen. Mounting their horses, they took a street that led thempast the great Roches des Doms, on the crest of which stood the mightypalace of the Popes, as yet unfinished, but still one of the vastestbuildings they had ever seen. Here on the battlements and in front ofthe gateway burned great fires, lit by order of his Holiness to purifythe air and protect him and his Court from the plague.
Leaving this place on their right they rode slowly along one of theprincipal streets of the town, seeking an inn. Soon they found one, alarge place that had a sign on which three shepherds were painted,and turned to enter its gateway. But, when they saw them, out of thatgateway rushed a mob of frantic people waving swords and cudgels, andsaying that they would have no strangers there to bring the Death amongthem.
"Let us go on," said Hugh, "for here it seems we are not welcome."
So they went and tried three other inns in turn. At two of them theymet with a like greeting, but the doors of the third were closed andthe place was deserted. Then, for a crowd began to gather round them,wearily enough they turned up another street at hazard. Thus they wendedtheir way back toward the great central rock, thinking that there theymight find some more hospitable tavern.
Following this new street, they reached a less crowded suburb of thetown, where large dwellings stood in their own gardens. One of these,they saw by the flare of some of those fires which burned all about thecity in this time of pestilence, seemed to be a small castle. At leastit had a moat round it and a drawbridge, which was down. Seeing thatlamps burned in its windows, Hugh, who was worn out with their longjourneyings, took a sudden resolution.
"Doubtless some knight dwells in this fine house," he said to hiscompanions. "Let us go up and declare our names and degree and by virtueof them claim the hospitality which is our right."
"Be it so," grumbled Dick. "We cannot be worse treated there thanwe were at the inns, unless the owner adds arrows to the swords andcudgels."
They rode across the drawbridge to the gateway of the little castle,which was open, and finding no one there, through a small courtyard tothe door, which also was open.
David dismounted and knocked on it, but none answered.
"An empty house belongs to no one," said Dick; "at any rate in thesetimes. Let us enter."
They did so, and saw that the place was sumptuously appointed. Thoughancient, it was not large, having, as they afterward discovered, been afortification on an outer wall now demolished, which had been turnedto the purposes of a dwelling. Leaving the hall out of which opened therefectory, they mounted a stone stair to the upper chambers, and enteredone of them.
Here they saw a strange and piteous sight. On a bed, about which candlesstill burned, lay a young woman who had been very beautiful, arrayed ina bride's robe.
"Dead of the plague," said Hugh, "and deserted at her death. Well, shehad better luck than many, since she was not left to die alone. Herdress and these candles show it."
"Ay," answered Dick, "but fear took the watchers at last and theyare fled. Well, we will fill their place, and, if they do not returnto-morrow, give her honourable burial in her own courtyard. Here befine lodgings for us, master, so let us bide in them until the rightfulowners cast us out. Come, David, and help me raise that drawbridge."
Fine lodgings these proved to be indeed, since, as they found, no housein Avignon was better furnished with all things needful. But, and thiswill show how dreadful were the times, during these days that they madethis their home they never so much as learned the name of that poor ladyarrayed in the bride's dress and laid out upon her marriage bed.
In the butteries and cellar were plentiful provisions of food. Havingeaten of it with thankfulness, they chose out one of the bed-chambersand slept there quite undisturbed till the morning sun shone in at thewindow-places and awoke them. Then they arose, and, digging a shallowgrave in the courtyard with some garden tools which they found in ashed, they bore out the poor bride, and, removing only her jewels, whichwere rich enough, buried her there in her wedding dress. This sadduty finished, they washed themselves with water from the well, andbreakfasted. After they had eaten they consulted as to what they shoulddo next.
"We came here to lay a certain cause before his Holiness," said Hugh."Let us go up to the palace, declare our business and estate, and askaudience."
So, leaving David in charge of the house, which they named the Bride'sTower because of the dead lady and the little keep which rose above it,and of the horses that they had stalled in the stable, they went outand made their way to the great entrance of the Pope's palace. Here theyfound the gates shut and barred, with a huge fire burning behind them.
Still they knocked until some guards appeared armed with cross-bows, andasked their business. They said they desired to see his Holiness, or atleast one of his secretaries, whereon the guards asked whence they came.They replied from Italy, and were told that if so they would find noentrance there, since the Death had come from Italy. Now Hugh gave hisname and stated his business on hearing which the guards laughed at him.
"Annulment of a false marriage!" said their captain. "Go lay yourpetition before Death, who will do your business swiftly if he has notdone it already. Get you gone, you English knight, with your white-facedsquire. We want no E
nglish here at the best of times, and least of allif they hail from Italy."
"Come on, master," said Dick, "there are more ways into a house thanby the front door--and we won't want to leave our brains to grease itshinges."
So they went away, wondering whither they should betake themselves orwhat they could do next. As it chanced, they had not long to wait foran answer. Presently a lantern-jawed notary in a frayed russet gown, whomust have been watching their movements, approached them and askedthem what had been their business at the Pope's palace. Hugh told him,whereon the lawyer, finding that he was a person of high degree, becamedeferential in his manner. Moreover, he announced that he was a notarynamed Basil of Tours and one of the legal secretaries of his Holiness,who just now was living without the gates of the palace by expresscommand in order to attend to the affairs of suitors at the PapalCourt during the Great Sickness. He added, however, that he was ableto communicate with those within, and that doubtless it might be in hispower to forward the cause of the noble knight, Sir Hugh de Cressi, inwhich already he took much interest.
"There would be a fee?" suggested Dick, looking at the man coldly.
Basil answered with a smirk that fees and legal affairs wereinseparable; the latter naturally involved the former. Not that he caredfor money, he remarked, especially in this time of general woe. Still,it would never do for a lawyer, however humble, to create a precedentwhich might be used against his craft in better days. Then he named asum.
Hugh handed him double what he asked, whereon he began to manifest greatzeal in his case. Indeed, he accompanied them to the fortified housethat they had named the Bride's Tower, which he alleged, with or withouttruth, he had never seen before. There he wrote down all particulars ofthe suit.
"Sir Edmund Acour, Count de Noyon, Seigneur of Cattrina?" he saidpresently. "Why I think that a lord of those names had audience with hisHoliness some while ago, just before the pest grew bad in Avignon andthe gates of the palace were ordered to be shut. I know not what passedon the occasion, not having been retained in the cause, but I will findout and tell you to-morrow."
"Find out also, if it pleases you, learned Basil," said Hugh, "whetheror no this knight with the three names is still in Avignon. If so, Ihave a word or two to say to him."
"I will, I will," answered the lantern-jawed notary. "Yet I think itmost unlikely that any one who can buy or beg a horse to ride away onshould stay in this old city just now, unless indeed, the laws of hisorder bind him to do so that he may minister to the afflicted. Well,if the pest spares me and you, to-morrow morning I will be back here atthis hour to tell you all that I can gather."
"How did this sickness begin in Avignon?" asked Grey Dick.
"Noble Squire, none know for certain. In the autumn we had great rains,heavy mists and other things contrary to the usual course of nature,such as strange lights shining in the heavens, and so forth. Then aftera day of much heat, one evening a man clad in a red and yellow cap, whowore a cloak of thick black furs and necklaces of black pearls, wasseen standing in the market-place. Indeed, I saw him myself. There wassomething so strange and dreadful about the appearance of thisman, although it is true that some say he was no more than a commonmountebank arrayed thus to win pence, that the people set upon him.They hurled stones at him, they attacked him with swords and every otherweapon, and thought that they had killed him, when suddenly he appearedoutside the throng unhurt. Then he stretched out his white-gloved handtoward them and melted into the gloom.
"Only," added Basil nervously, "it was noted afterward that all thosewho had tried to injure the man were among the first to die of the pest.Thank God, I was not one of them. Indeed I did my best to hold themback, which, perhaps, is the reason why I am alive to-day."
"A strange story," said Hugh, "though I have heard something like it inother cities through which we have passed. Well, till to-morrow at thishour, friend Basil."
"We have learned two things, master," said Dick, when the lawyer hadbowed himself out. "First, that Acour is, or has been, in Avignon, andsecondly, that Murgh the Messenger, Murgh the Sword, has been or is inAvignon. Let us go seek for one of the other of them, since for my partI desire to meet them both."
So all that day they sought but found neither.
Next morning Basil reappeared, according to his promise, and informedthem that their business was on foot. Also he said that it was likely toprove more difficult than he anticipated. Indeed, he understood that hewho was named de Noyon and Cattrina, having friends among the cardinals,had already obtained some provisional ratification of his marriage withthe lady Eve Clavering. This ratification it would now be costly anddifficult to set aside.
Hugh answered that if only he could be granted an audience with hisHoliness, he had evidence which would make the justice of his causeplain. What he sought was an audience.
The notary scratched his lantern jaws and asked how that could bebrought about when every gate of the palace was shut because of theplague. Still, perhaps, it might be managed, he added, if a certain sumwere forthcoming to bribe various janitors and persons in authority.
Hugh gave him the sum out of the store of gold they had taken from therobbers in the mountains, with something over for himself. So Basildeparted, saying that he would return at the same hour on the morrow,if the plague spared him and them, his patrons, as he prayed the Saintsthat it might do.
Hugh watched him go, then turned to Dick and said:
"I mistrust me of that hungry wolf in sheep's clothing who talks solarge and yet does nothing. Let us go out and search Avignon again.Perchance we may meet Acour, or at least gather some tidings of him."
So they went, leaving the Tower locked and barred, who perchance wouldhave been wiser to follow Basil. A debased and fraudulent lawyer ofno character at all, this man lived upon such fees as he could wringwithout authority from those who came to lay their suits before thePapal Court, playing upon their hopes and fears and pretending to apower which he did not possess. Had they done so, they might have seenhim turn up a certain side street, and, when he was sure that nonewatched him, slip into the portal of an ancient house where visitors ofrank were accustomed to lodge.
Mounting some stairs without meeting any one, for this house, like manyothers, seemed to be deserted in that time of pestilence, he knockedupon a door.
"Begone, whoever you are," growled a voice from within. "Here there areneither sick to be tended nor dead to be borne away."
Had they been there to hear it, Hugh and Dick might have found thatvoice familiar.
"Noble lord," he replied, "I am the notary, Basil, and come upon yourbusiness."
"Maybe," said the voice, "but how know I that you have not been nearsome case of foul sickness and will not bring it here?"
"Have no fear, lord; I have been waiting on the healthy, not on thesick--a task which I leave to others who have more taste that way."
Then the door was opened cautiously, and from the room beyond it came apungent odour of aromatic essences. Basil passed in, shutting it quicklybehind him. Before him at the further side of the table and near to ablazing fire stood Acour himself. He was clothed in a long robe andheld a piece of linen that was soaked in some strong-smelling substancebefore his nose and mouth.
"Nay, come no nearer," he said to the clerk, "for this infection is mostsubtle, and--be so good as to cast off that filthy cloak of yours andleave it by the door."
Basil obeyed, revealing an undergarment that was still more foul. He wasnot one who wasted money on new apparel.
"Well, man," said Acour, surveying him with evident disgust and throwinga handful of dried herbs upon the fire, "what news now? Has my causebeen laid before his Holiness? I trust so, for know that I grow wearyof being cooped up here like a falcon in a cage with the dread of aloathsome death and a handful of frightened servants as companions whodo nothing but drone out prayers all day long."
"Yes, lord, it has. I have it straight from Clement's own secretary, andthe answer is that his Holiness will att
end to the matter when the pesthas passed away from Avignon, and not before. He adds also that whenit does so, if ever, all the parties to the cause, by themselves orby their representatives, must appear before him. He will give no _exparte_ judgment upon an issue which, from letters that have reached himappears to be complicated and doubtful."
"Mother of Heaven!" exclaimed Acour, "what a fool am I to let you in totell me such tidings. Well, if that is all you have to say the soonerI am out of this hateful city the better. I ride this afternoon, or, ifneed be, walk on foot."
"Indeed," said Basil. "Then you leave behind you some who are notso frightened of their health, but who bide here upon a very similarerrand. Doubtless, as often happens to the bold, they will find a way tofulfil it."
"And who may these be, fellow?"
"A bold and warlike knight, a squire with hair like tow and a face thatmight be worn by Death himself, and a young English serving man."
Acour started up from the chair in which he had sat down.
"No need to tell me their names," he said, "but how, by hell's gate,came de Cressi and his familiar here."
"By the road, I imagine, lord, like others. At least, a few days agothey were seen travelling toward the bridge of St. Benezet in thecompany of certain Jews, whom, I am informed, they had rescued from thejust reward of their witchcraft. I have a note of all the facts, whichinclude the slaying of sundry good Christians on behalf of the saidJews."
"Jews? Why, that is enough to hang them in these times. But what do theyhere and where do they lodge?"
"Like your lordship they strive to see the Pope. They desire thatan alleged marriage between one Sir Edmund Acour, Count of Noyon andSeigneur of Cattrina, and one lady Eve Clavering, an Englishwoman, maybe declared null and void. As they have been so good as to honour mewith their confidence and appoint me their agent, I am able to detailthe facts. Therefore I will tell you at once that the case of thisknight de Cressi appears to be excellent, since it includes the writtenconfession of a certain Father Nicholas, of whom perhaps you haveheard."
"The written confession of Nicholas! Have you seen it?"
"Not as yet. So far I have been trusted with no original documents. Isit your will that I should try to possess myself of these? Because,if so, I will do my best, provided----" and he looked at the pocket ofAcour's robe.
"How much?" asked Acour. The man named a great sum, half to be paid downand half on the delivery of the papers.
"I'll double it," said Acour, "if you can bring it about that theseinsolent Englishmen die--of the pest."
"How can I do that, lord?" asked Basil with a sour smile. "Such tricksmight work backward. I might die, or you. Still these men have committedcrimes, and just now there is a prejudice against Jews."
"Ay," said Acour, "the Englishmen are sorcerers. I tell you that inVenice they were seen in the company of that fiend of the yellow cap andthe fur robe who appears everywhere before the pest."
"Prove it," exclaimed Basil, "and the citizens of Avignon will rid youof their troubling."
Then they debated long together and the end of it was that Basildeparted, saying that he would return again on the morrow and makereport as to certain matters.