The Cloister and the Hearth: A Tale of the Middle Ages

  CHAPTER VIII

  WHILE the burgomaster was exposing Gerard at Tergou, Margaret had atrouble of her own at Sevenbergen. It was a housewife's distress, butdeeper than we can well conceive. She came to Martin Wittenhaagen, theold soldier, with tears in her eyes.

  "Martin, there's nothing in the house, and Gerard is coming, and he isso thoughtless. He forgets to sup at home. When he gives over work thenhe runs to me straight, poor soul: and often, he comes quite faint. Andto think I have nothing to set before my servant that loves me so dear."

  Martin scratched his head. "What can I do?"

  "It is Thursday: it is your day to shoot,--sooth to say, I counted onyou to-day."

  "Nay," said the soldier, "I may not shoot when the duke or his friendsare at the chace; read else. I am no scholar." And he took out of hispouch a parchment with a grand seal. It purported to be a stipend and alicence given by Philip Duke of Burgundy to Martin Wittenhaagen, one ofhis archers, in return for services in the wars, and for a woundreceived at the duke's side. The stipend was four marks yearly to bepaid by the Duke's almoner and the licence was to shoot three arrowsonce a week, viz., on Thursday, and no other day, in any of the Duke'sforests in Holland, at any game but a seven-year-old buck or a doecarrying fawn, proviso, that the duke should not be hunting on that day,or any of his friends. In this case Martin was not to go and disturb thewoods on peril of his salary, and his head, and a fine of a penny.

  Margaret sighed and was silent.

  "Come, cheer up, mistress," said he, "for your sake I'll peril mycarcass; I have done that for many a one that was not worth yourforefinger. It is no such mighty risk either. I'll but step into theskirts of the forest, here. It is odds but they drive a hare or a fawnwithin reach of my arrow."

  "Well, if I let you go you must promise me not to go far, and not to beseen; far better Gerard went supperless than ill should come to you,faithful Martin."

  The required promise given, Martin took his bow and three arrows, andstole cautiously into the wood: it was scarce a furlong distant. Thehorns were heard faintly in the distance, and all the game was afoot."Come," thought Martin, "I shall soon fill the pot and no one be thewiser." He took his stand behind a thick oak that commanded a view of anopen glade, and strung his bow, a truly formidable weapon. It was ofEnglish yew, six feet two inches high, and thick in proportion: andMartin, broad chested, with arms all iron and cord, and used to the bowfrom infancy, could draw a three-foot arrow to the head, and, when itflew, the eye could scarce follow it, and the bowstring twanged asmusical as a harp. This bow had laid many a stout soldier low in thewars of the Hoecks and Cabbel-jaws. In those days a battle-field was nota cloud of smoke; the combatants were few but the deaths many; for theysaw what they were about, and fewer bloodless arrows flew than bloodlessbullets now. A hare came cantering, then sat sprightly, and her earsmade a capital V. Martin levelled his tremendous weapon at her: thearrow flew, the string twanged: but Martin had been in a hurry to pother, and lost her by an inch: the arrow seemed to hit her, but it struckthe ground close to her, and passed under her belly like a flash, andhissed along the short grass and disappeared. She jumped three feetperpendicular, and away at the top of her speed. "Bungler!" said Martin.A sure proof he was not an habitual bungler, or he would have blamed thehare. He had scarcely fitted another arrow to his string when awood-pigeon settled on the very tree he stood under.

  "Aha!" thought he, "you are small, but dainty." This time he took morepains; drew his arrow carefully, loosed it smoothly, and saw it, to allappearance, go clean through the bird, carrying feathers sky-ward likedust. Instead of falling at his feet, the bird, whose breast was torn,not fairly pierced, fluttered feebly away, and, by a great effort roseabove the trees, flew some fifty yards, and fell dead at last; butwhere, he could not see for the thick foliage.

  "Luck is against me," said he, despondingly. But he fitted anotherarrow, and eyed the glade keenly. Presently he heard a bustle behindhim, and turned round just in time to see a noble buck cross the open,but too late to shoot at him. He dashed his bow down with animprecation. At that moment a long, spotted animal glided swiftly acrossafter the deer; its belly seemed to touch the ground as it went. Martintook up his bow hastily: he recognized the duke's leopard. "The hunterswill not be far from her," said he, "and I must not be seen. Gerard mustgo supperless this night."

  He plunged into the wood, following the buck and leopard, for that washis way home. He had not gone far when he heard an unusual sound aheadof him--leaves rustling violently, and the ground trampled. He hurriedin the direction. He found the leopard on the buck's back, tearing himwith teeth and claw, and the buck running in a circle and boundingconvulsively, with the blood pouring down his hide. Then Martin formed adesperate resolution to have the venison for Margaret. He drew his arrowto the head and buried it in the deer, who, spite of the creature on hisback, bounded high into the air, and fell dead. The leopard went ontearing him as if nothing had happened.

  Martin hoped that the creature would gorge itself with blood, and thenlet him take the meat. He waited some minutes, then walked resolutelyup, and laid his hand on the buck's leg. The leopard gave a frightfulgrowl, and left off sucking blood. She saw Martin's game, and was sulkyand on her guard. What was to be done? Martin had heard that wildcreatures cannot stand the human eye. Accordingly he stood erect andfixed his on the leopard; the leopard returned a savage glance, andnever took her eye off Martin. Then Martin continuing to look the beastdown, the leopard, brutally ignorant of natural history, flew at hishead with a frightful yell, flaming eyes, and jaws and claws distended.He had but just time to catch her by the throat, before her teeth couldcrush his face; one of her claws seized his shoulder and rent it, theother aimed at his cheek, would have been more deadly still, but Martinwas old fashioned, and wore no hat, but a scapulary of the same stuff ashis jerkin, and this scapulary he had brought over his head like a hood;the brute's claw caught in the loose leather. Martin kept her teeth offhis face with great difficulty, and gripped her throat fiercely, and shekept rending his shoulder. It was like blunt reaping-hooks grinding andtearing. The pain was fearful: but, instead of cowing the old soldier,it put his blood up, and he gnashed his teeth with rage almost as fierceas hers, and squeezed her neck with iron force. The two pairs of eyesflared at one another--and now the man's were almost as furious as thebrute's. She found he was throttling her, and made a wild attempt tofree herself, in which she dragged his cowl all over his face andblinded him, and tore her claw out of his shoulder, flesh and all: butstill he throttled her with hand and arm of iron. Presently her longtail, that was high in the air, went down. "Aha!" cried Martin,joyfully, and gripped her like death; next, her body lost itselasticity, and he held a choked and powerless thing: he gripped it tillall motion ceased, then dashed it to the earth; then, panting, removedhis cowl: the leopard lay mute at his feet with tongue protruding andbloody paw; and for the first time terror fell on Martin. "I am a deadman: I have slain the duke's leopard." He hastily seized a few handfulsof leaves and threw them over her; then shouldered the buck andstaggered away, leaving a trail of blood all the way--his own and thebuck's. He burst into Peter's house a horrible figure, bleeding andblood-stained, and flung the deer's carcass down.

  "There, no questions," said he, "but broil me a steak on't; for I amfaint."

  Margaret did not see he was wounded: she thought the blood was all fromthe deer.

  She busied herself at the fire, and the stout soldier stanched and boundhis own wound apart, and soon he and Gerard and Margaret were suppingroyally on broiled venison.

  They were very merry; and Gerard, with wonderful thoughtfulness, hadbrought a flask of Schiedam, and under its influence Martin revived, andtold them how the venison was got; and they all made merry over theexploit.

  Their mirth was strangely interrupted. Margaret's eye became fixed andfascinated, and her cheek pale with fear. She gasped, and could notspeak, but pointed to the window with trembling finger. Their eyesfollowed hers, and there in
the twilight crouched a dark form with eyeslike glowworms.

  It was the leopard.

  While they stood petrified, fascinated by the eyes of green fire, theresounded in the wood a single deep bay. Martin trembled at it.

  "They have lost her, and laid muzzled bloodhounds on her scent. Theywill find her here, and the venison. Good-bye, friends, MartinWittenhaagen ends here."

  Gerard seized his bow, and put it into the soldier's hands.

  "Be a man," he cried, "shoot her, and fling her into the wood ere theycome up. Who will know?"

  More voices of hounds broke out, and nearer.

  "Curse her!" cried Martin. "I spared her once; now she must die, or I,or both more likely;" and he reared his bow, and drew his arrow to thehead.

  "Nay! nay!" cried Margaret, and seized the arrow: it broke in half: thepieces fell on each side of the bow. The air at the same time filledwith the tongues of the hound: they were hot upon the scent.

  "What have you done, wench? You have put the halter round my throat."

  "No!" cried Margaret. "I have saved you: stand back from the window,both! Your knife quick!"

  She seized his long-pointed knife, almost tore it out of his girdle, anddarted from the room. The house was now surrounded with baying dogs andshouting men.

  The glowworm eyes moved not.