CHAPTER XXVII. HOW ROGER CLUB-FOOT WAS PASSED INTO PARADISE.
It was evening before the three comrades came into Aiguillon. There theyfound Sir Nigel Loring and Ford safely lodged at the sign of the"Baton Rouge," where they supped on good fare and slept betweenlavender-scented sheets. It chanced, however, that a knight of Poitou,Sir Gaston d'Estelle, was staying there on his way back from Lithuania,where he had served a term with the Teutonic knights under theland-master of the presbytery of Marienberg. He and Sir Nigel sat latein high converse as to bushments, outfalls, and the intaking of cities,with many tales of warlike men and valiant deeds. Then their talk turnedto minstrelsy, and the stranger knight drew forth a cittern, upon whichhe played the minne-lieder of the north, singing the while in a highcracked voice of Hildebrand and Brunhild and Siegfried, and all thestrength and beauty of the land of Almain. To this Sir Nigel answeredwith the romances of Sir Eglamour, and of Sir Isumbras, and so throughthe long winter night they sat by the crackling wood-fire answering eachother's songs until the crowing cocks joined in their concert. Yet, withscarce an hour of rest, Sir Nigel was as blithe and bright as ever asthey set forth after breakfast upon their way.
"This Sir Gaston is a very worthy man," said he to his squires as theyrode from the "Baton Rouge." "He hath a very strong desire to advancehimself, and would have entered upon some small knightly debate with me,had he not chanced to have his arm-bone broken by the kick of a horse.I have conceived a great love for him, and I have promised him that whenhis bone is mended I will exchange thrusts with him. But we must keep tothis road upon the left."
"Nay, my fair lord," quoth Aylward. "The road to Montaubon is over theriver, and so through Quercy and the Agenois."
"True, my good Aylward; but I have learned from this worthy knight, whohath come over the French marches, that there is a company of Englishmenwho are burning and plundering in the country round Villefranche. I havelittle doubt, from what he says, that they are those whom we seek."
"By my hilt! it is like enough," said Aylward. "By all accounts they hadbeen so long at Montaubon, that there would be little there worth thetaking. Then as they have already been in the south, they would comenorth to the country of the Aveyron."
"We shall follow the Lot until we come to Cahors, and then cross themarches into Villefranche," said Sir Nigel. "By St. Paul! as we are buta small band, it is very likely that we may have some very honorableand pleasing adventure, for I hear that there is little peace upon theFrench border."
All morning they rode down a broad and winding road, barred with theshadows of poplars. Sir Nigel rode in front with his squires, while thetwo archers followed behind with the sumpter mule between them. Theyhad left Aiguillon and the Garonne far to the south, and rode now bythe tranquil Lot, which curves blue and placid through a gently rollingcountry. Alleyne could not but mark that, whereas in Guienne there hadbeen many townlets and few castles, there were now many castles and fewhouses. On either hand gray walls and square grim keeps peeped out atevery few miles from amid the forests while the few villages whichthey passed were all ringed round with rude walls, which spoke of theconstant fear and sudden foray of a wild frontier land. Twice during themorning there came bands of horsemen swooping down upon them from theblack gateways of wayside strongholds, with short, stern questions as towhence they came and what their errand. Bands of armed men clankedalong the highway, and the few lines of laden mules which carried themerchandise of the trader were guarded by armed varlets, or by archershired for the service.
"The peace of Bretigny hath not made much change in these parts,"quoth Sir Nigel, "for the country is overrun with free companions andmasterless men. Yonder towers, between the wood and the hill, mark thetown of Cahors, and beyond it is the land of France. But here is a manby the wayside, and as he hath two horses and a squire I make littledoubt that he is a knight. I pray you, Alleyne, to give him greetingfrom me, and to ask him for his titles and coat-armor. It may be that Ican relieve him of some vow, or perchance he hath a lady whom he wouldwish to advance."
"Nay, my fair lord," said Alleyne, "these are not horses and a squire,but mules and a varlet. The man is a mercer, for he hath a great bundlebeside him."
"Now, God's blessing on your honest English voice!" cried the stranger,pricking up his ears at the sound of Alleyne's words. "Never have Iheard music that was so sweet to mine ear. Come, Watkin lad, throw thebales over Laura's back! My heart was nigh broke, for it seemed that Ihad left all that was English behind me, and that I would never set eyesupon Norwich market square again." He was a tall, lusty, middle-agedman with a ruddy face, a brown forked beard shot with gray, and abroad Flanders hat set at the back of his head. His servant, as tall ashimself, but gaunt and raw-boned, had swung the bales on the back ofone mule, while the merchant mounted upon the other and rode to jointhe party. It was easy to see, as he approached, from the quality ofhis dress and the richness of his trappings, that he was a man of somewealth and position.
"Sir knight," said he, "my name is David Micheldene, and I am a burgherand alderman of the good town of Norwich, where I live five doors fromthe church of Our Lady, as all men know on the banks of Yare. I havehere my bales of cloth which I carry to Cahors--woe worth the day thatever I started on such an errand! I crave your gracious protection uponthe way for me, my servant, and my mercery; for I have already hadmany perilous passages, and have now learned that Roger Club-foot, therobber-knight of Quercy, is out upon the road in front of me. I herebyagree to give you one rose-noble if you bring me safe to the inn of the'Angel' in Cahors, the same to be repaid to me or my heirs if any harmcome to me or my goods."
"By Saint Paul!" answered Sir Nigel, "I should be a sorry knight if Iask pay for standing by a countryman in a strange land. You may ridewith me and welcome, Master Micheldene, and your varlet may follow withmy archers."
"God's benison upon thy bounty!" cried the stranger. "Should you come toNorwich you may have cause to remember that you have been of service toAlderman Micheldene. It is not very far to Cahors, for surely I see thecathedral towers against the sky-line; but I have heard much of thisRoger Clubfoot, and the more I hear the less do I wish to look upon hisface. Oh, but I am sick and weary of it all, and I would give half thatI am worth to see my good dame sitting in peace beside me, and to hearthe bells of Norwich town."
"Your words are strange to me," quoth Sir Nigel, "for you have theappearance of a stout man, and I see that you wear a sword by yourside."
"Yet it is not my trade," answered the merchant. "I doubt not that ifI set you down in my shop at Norwich you might scarce tell fustian fromfalding, and know little difference between the velvet of Genoa and thethree-piled cloth of Bruges. There you might well turn to me for help.But here on a lone roadside, with thick woods and robber-knights, I turnto you, for it is the business to which you have been reared."
"There is sooth in what you say, Master Micheldene," said Sir Nigel,"and I trust that we may come upon this Roger Clubfoot, for I have heardthat he is a very stout and skilful soldier, and a man from whom muchhonor is to be gained."
"He is a bloody robber," said the trader, curtly, "and I wish I saw himkicking at the end of a halter."
"It is such men as he," Sir Nigel remarked, "who give the true knighthonorable deeds to do, whereby he may advance himself."
"It is such men as he," retorted Micheldene, "who are like rats ina wheat-rick or moths in a woolfels, a harm and a hindrance to allpeaceful and honest men."
"Yet, if the dangers of the road weigh so heavily upon you, masteralderman, it is a great marvel to me that you should venture so far fromhome."
"And sometimes, sir knight, it is a marvel to myself. But I am a man whomay grutch and grumble, but when I have set my face to do a thing Iwill not turn my back upon it until it be done. There is one, FrancoisVillet, at Cahors, who will send me wine-casks for my cloth-bales, so toCahors I will go, though all the robber-knights of Christendom were toline the roads like yonder poplars."
"Stoutly spok
en, master alderman! But how have you fared hitherto?"
"As a lamb fares in a land of wolves. Five times we have had to beg andpray ere we could pass. Twice I have paid toll to the wardens of theroad. Three times we have had to draw, and once at La Reolle we stoodover our wool-bales, Watkin and I, and we laid about us for as long as aman might chant a litany, slaying one rogue and wounding two others. ByGod's coif! we are men of peace, but we are free English burghers, notto be mishandled either in our country or abroad. Neither lord, baron,knight, or commoner shall have as much as a strike of flax of minewhilst I have strength to wag this sword."
"And a passing strange sword it is," quoth Sir Nigel. "What make you,Alleyne, of these black lines which are drawn across the sheath?"
"I cannot tell what they are, my fair lord."
"Nor can I," said Ford.
The merchant chuckled to himself. "It was a thought of mine own,"said he; "for the sword was made by Thomas Wilson, the armorer, who isbetrothed to my second daughter Margery. Know then that the sheath isone cloth-yard, in length, marked off according to feet and inches toserve me as a measuring wand. It is also of the exact weight of twopounds, so that I may use it in the balance."
"By Saint Paul!" quoth Sir Nigel, "it is very clear to me that the swordis like thyself, good alderman, apt either for war or for peace. ButI doubt not that even in England you have had much to suffer from thehands of robbers and outlaws."
"It was only last Lammastide, sir knight, that I was left for dead nearReading as I journeyed to Winchester fair. Yet I had the rogues up atthe court of pie-powder, and they will harm no more peaceful traders."
"You travel much then!"
"To Winchester, Linn mart, Bristol fair, Stourbridge, and Bartholomew'sin London Town. The rest of the year you may ever find me five doorsfrom the church of Our Lady, where I would from my heart that I was atthis moment, for there is no air like Norwich air, and no water like theYare, nor can all the wines of France compare with the beer of old SamYelverton who keeps the 'Dun Cow.' But, out and alack, here is an evilfruit which hangs upon this chestnut-tree!"
As he spoke they had ridden round a curve of the road and come upon agreat tree which shot one strong brown branch across their path. Fromthe centre of this branch there hung a man, with his head at a horridslant to his body and his toes just touching the ground. He was nakedsave for a linen under shirt and pair of woollen drawers. Beside himon a green bank there sat a small man with a solemn face, and a greatbundle of papers of all colors thrusting forth from the scrip which laybeside him. He was very richly dressed, with furred robes, a scarlethood, and wide hanging sleeves lined with flame-colored silk. A greatgold chain hung round his neck, and rings glittered from every finger ofhis hands. On his lap he had a little pile of gold and of silver, whichhe was dropping, coin by coin, into a plump pouch which hung from hisgirdle.
"May the saints be with you, good travellers!" he shouted, as theparty rode up. "May the four Evangelists watch over you! May the twelveApostles bear you up! May the blessed army of martyrs direct your feetand lead you to eternal bliss!"
"Gramercy for these good wishes!" said Sir Nigel. "But I perceive,master alderman, that this man who hangs here is, by mark of foot, thevery robber-knight of whom we have spoken. But there is a cartel pinnedupon his breast, and I pray you, Alleyne, to read it to me."
The dead robber swung slowly to and fro in the wintry wind, a fixedsmile upon his swarthy face, and his bulging eyes still glaring down thehighway of which he had so long been the terror; on a sheet of parchmentupon his breast was printed in rude characters;
ROGER PIED-BOT.
Par l'ordre du Senechal de Castelnau, et de l'Echevin de Cahors, servantes fideles du tres vaillant et tres puissant Edouard, Prince de Galles et d'Aquitaine. Ne touchez pas, Ne coutez pas, Ne depechez pas.
"He took a sorry time in dying," said the man who sat beside him. "Hecould stretch one toe to the ground and bear himself up, so that Ithought he would never have done. Now at last, however, he is safely inparadise, and so I may jog on upon my earthly way." He mounted, as hespoke, a white mule which had been grazing by the wayside, all gaywith fustian of gold and silver bells, and rode onward with Sir Nigel'sparty.
"How know you then that he is in paradise?" asked Sir Nigel. "All thingsare possible to God, but, certes, without a miracle, I should scarceexpect to find the soul of Roger Clubfoot amongst the just."
"I know that he is there because I have just passed him in there,"answered the stranger, rubbing his bejewelled hands together in placidsatisfaction. "It is my holy mission to be a sompnour or pardoner. I amthe unworthy servant and delegate of him who holds the keys. A contriteheart and ten nobles to holy mother Church may stave off perdition; buthe hath a pardon of the first degree, with a twenty-five livre benison,so that I doubt if he will so much as feel a twinge of purgatory. I cameup even as the seneschal's archers were tying him up, and I gave him myfore-word that I would bide with him until he had passed. There were twoleaden crowns among the silver, but I would not for that stand in theway of his salvation."
"By Saint Paul!" said Sir Nigel, "if you have indeed this power to openand to shut the gates of hope, then indeed you stand high above mankind.But if you do but claim to have it, and yet have it not, then it seemsto me, master clerk, that you may yourself find the gate barred when youshall ask admittance."
"Small of faith! Small of faith!" cried the sompnour. "Ah, Sir Didymusyet walks upon earth! And yet no words of doubt can bring anger to mineheart, or a bitter word to my lip, for am I not a poor unworthy workerin the cause of gentleness and peace? Of all these pardons which I bearevery one is stamped and signed by our holy father, the prop and centreof Christendom."
"Which of them?" asked Sir Nigel.
"Ha, ha!" cried the pardoner, shaking a jewelled forefinger. "Thouwouldst be deep in the secrets of mother Church? Know then that I haveboth in my scrip. Those who hold with Urban shall have Urban's pardon,while I have Clement's for the Clementist--or he who is in doubt mayhave both, so that come what may he shall be secure. I pray you that youwill buy one, for war is bloody work, and the end is sudden with littletime for thought or shrift. Or you, sir, for you seem to me to be a manwho would do ill to trust to your own merits." This to the alderman ofNorwich, who had listened to him with a frowning brow and a sneeringlip.
"When I sell my cloth," quoth he, "he who buys may weigh and feel andhandle. These goods which you sell are not to be seen, nor is thereany proof that you hold them. Certes, if mortal man might control God'smercy, it would be one of a lofty and God-like life, and not one who isdecked out with rings and chains and silks, like a pleasure-wench at akermesse.
"Thou wicked and shameless man!" cried the clerk. "Dost thou dare toraise thy voice against the unworthy servant of mother Church?"
"Unworthy enough!" quoth David Micheldene. "I would have you to know,clerk, that I am a free English burgher, and that I dare say my mind toour father the Pope himself, let alone such a lacquey's lacquey as you!"
"Base-born and foul-mouthed knave!" cried the sompnour. "You prate ofholy things, to which your hog's mind can never rise. Keep silence, lestI call a curse upon you!"
"Silence yourself!" roared the other. "Foul bird! we found thee by thegallows like a carrion-crow. A fine life thou hast of it with thy silksand thy baubles, cozening the last few shillings from the pouches ofdying men. A fig for thy curse! Bide here, if you will take my rede, forwe will make England too hot for such as you, when Master Wicliff hasthe ordering of it. Thou vile thief! it is you, and such as you, whobring an evil name upon the many churchmen who lead a pure and a holylife. Thou outside the door of heaven! Art more like to be inside thedoor of hell."
At this crowning insult the sompnour, with a face ashen with rage,raised up a quivering hand and began pouring Latin imprecations uponthe angry alderman. The latter, however, was not a
man to be quelled bywords, for he caught up his ell-measure sword-sheath and belabored thecursing clerk with it. The latter, unable to escape from the showerof blows, set spurs to his mule and rode for his life, with his enemythundering behind him. At sight of his master's sudden departure, thevarlet Watkin set off after him, with the pack-mule beside him, so thatthe four clattered away down the road together, until they swept rounda curve and their babble was but a drone in the distance. Sir Nigeland Alleyne gazed in astonishment at one another, while Ford burst outa-laughing.
"Pardieu!" said the knight, "this David Micheldene must be one of thoseLollards about whom Father Christopher of the priory had so much to say.Yet he seemed to be no bad man from what I have seen of him."
"I have heard that Wicliff hath many followers in Norwich," answeredAlleyne.
"By St. Paul! I have no great love for them," quoth Sir Nigel. "I am aman who am slow to change; and, if you take away from me the faith thatI have been taught, it would be long ere I could learn one to set in itsplace. It is but a chip here and a chip there, yet it may bring the treedown in time. Yet, on the other hand, I cannot but think it shame that aman should turn God's mercy on and off, as a cellarman doth wine with aspigot."
"Nor is it," said Alleyne, "part of the teachings of that mother Churchof which he had so much to say. There was sooth in what the aldermansaid of it."
"Then, by St. Paul! they may settle it betwixt them," quoth Sir Nigel."For me, I serve God, the king and my lady; and so long as I can keepthe path of honor I am well content. My creed shall ever be that ofChandos:
"Fais ce que dois--adviegne que peut, C'est commande au chevalier."