Chivalry: Dizain des Reines

  The Story of the Sestina

  In this place we have to do with the opening tale of the Dizain ofQueens. I abridge, as afterward, at discretion; and an initial accountof the Barons' War, among other superfluities, I amputate as moreremarkable for veracity than interest. The result, we will agree atoutset, is that to the Norman cleric appertains whatever these tales mayhave of merit, whereas what you find distasteful in them you must imputeto my delinquencies in skill rather than in volition.

  Within the half hour after de Giars' death (here one overtakes Nicolasmid-course in narrative) Dame Alianora thus stood alone in the corridorof a strange house. Beyond the arras the steward and his lord were atirritable converse.

  First, "If the woman be hungry," spoke a high and peevish voice, "feedher. If she need money, give it to her. But do not annoy me."

  "This woman demands to see the master of the house," the steward thenretorted.

  "O incredible Boeotian, inform her that the master of the house has notime to waste upon vagabonds who select the middle of the night as aneligible time to pop out of nowhere. Why did you not do so in thebeginning, you dolt?" The speaker got for answer only a deferentialcough, and very shortly continued: "This is remarkably vexatious. _Voxet praeterea nihil_--which signifies, Yeck, that to converse with womenis always delightful. Admit her." This was done, and Dame Alianora cameinto an apartment littered with papers, where a neat and shriveledgentleman of fifty-odd sat at a desk and scowled.

  He presently said, "You may go, Yeck." He had risen, the magisterialattitude with which he had awaited her entrance cast aside. "Oh, God!"he said; "you, madame!" His thin hands, scholarly hands, were pluckingat the air.

  Dame Alianora had paused, greatly astonished, and there was an intervalbefore she said, "I do not recognize you, messire."

  "And yet, madame, I recall very clearly that some thirty years ago theKing-Count Raymond Berenger, then reigning in Provence, had about hiscourt four daughters, each one of whom was afterward wedded to a king.First, Meregrett, the eldest, now regnant in France; then Alianora, thesecond and most beautiful of these daughters, whom troubadours hymned asthe Unattainable Princess. She was married a long while ago, madame, tothe King of England, Lord Henry, third of that name to reign in theseislands."

  Dame Alianora's eyes were narrowing. "There is something in your voice,"she said, "which I recall."

  He answered: "Madame and Queen, that is very likely, for it is a voicewhich sang a deal in Provence when both of us were younger. I concedewith the Roman that I have somewhat deteriorated since the reign ofCynara. Yet have you quite forgotten the Englishman who made so manysongs of you? They called him Osmund Heleigh."

  "He made the Sestina of Spring which won the violet crown at mybetrothal," the Queen said; and then, with eagerness: "Messire, can itbe that you are Osmund Heleigh?" He shrugged assent. She looked at himfor a long time, rather sadly, and demanded if he were the King's man orof the barons' party.

  The nervous hands were raised in deprecation. "I have no politics,"Messire Heleigh began, and altered it, gallantly enough, to, "I am theQueen's man, madame."

  "Then aid me, Osmund," she said.

  He answered with a gravity which singularly became him, "You have reasonto understand that to my fullest power I will aid you."

  "You know that at Lewes these swine overcame us." He nodded assent. "Nowthey hold the King, my husband, captive at Kenilworth. I am contentthat he remain there, for he is of all the King's enemies the mostdangerous. But, at Wallingford, Leicester has imprisoned my son, PrinceEdward. The Prince must be freed, my Osmund. Warren de Basingbournecommands what is left of the royal army, now entrenched at Bristol, andit is he who must liberate my son. Get me to Bristol, then. Afterward wewill take Wallingford." The Queen issued these orders in cheery,practical fashion, and did not admit opposition into the account, forshe was a capable woman.

  "But you, madame?" he stammered. "You came alone?"

  "I come from France, where I have been entreating--and vainlyentreating--succor from yet another monkish king, the holy Lewis of thatrealm. Eh, what is God about when He enthrones these whining pieties!Were I a king, were I even a man, I would drive these smug English outof their foggy isle in three days' space! I would leave alive not one ofthese curs that dare yelp at me! I would--" She paused, anger veeringinto amusement. "See how I enrage myself when I think of what yourpeople have made me suffer," the Queen said, and shrugged her shoulders."In effect, I skulked back in disguise to this detestable island,accompanied by Avenel de Giars and Hubert Fitz-Herveis. To-night somehalf-dozen fellows--robbers, thorough knaves, like all youEnglish,--attacked us on the common yonder and slew the men of ourparty. While they were cutting de Giars' throat I slipped away in thedark and tumbled through many ditches till I spied your light. There youhave my story. Now get me an escort to Bristol."

  It was a long while before Messire Heleigh spoke. Then, "These men," hesaid--"this de Giars and this Fitz-Herveis--they gave their lives foryours, as I understand it,--_pro caris amicis_. And yet you do notgrieve for them."

  "I shall regret de Giars," the Queen acknowledged, "for he madeexcellent songs. But Fitz-Herveis?--foh! the man had a face like ahorse." Again her mood changed. "Many persons have died for me, myfriend. At first I wept for them, but now I am dry of tears."

  He shook his head. "Cato very wisely says, 'If thou hast need of help,ask it of thy friends.' But the sweet friend that I remember was a cleaneyed girl, joyous and exceedingly beautiful. Now you appear to me one ofthose ladies of remoter times--Faustina, or Jael, or Artemis, the King'swife of Tauris,--they that slew men, laughing. I am somewhat afraid ofyou, madame."

  She was angry at first; then her face softened. "You English!" she said,only half mirthful. "Eh, my God! you remember me when I was a highhearted young sorceress. Now the powers of the Apsarasas have departedfrom me, and time has thrust that Alianora, who was once theUnattainable Princess, chin deep in misery. Yet even now I am yourQueen, messire, and it is not yours to pass judgment upon me." "I donot judge you," he returned. "Rather I cry with him of old, _Omniaincerta ratione!_ and I cry with Salomon that he who meddles with thestrife of another man is like to him that takes a hound by the ears. Yetlisten, madame and Queen. I cannot afford you an escort to Bristol. Thishouse, of which I am in temporary charge, is Longaville, my brother'smanor. Lord Brudenel, as you doubtless know, is of the barons' partyand--scant cause for grief!--is with Leicester at this moment. I cantrust none of my brother's people, for I believe them to be of much thesame opinion as those Londoners who not long ago stoned you and wouldhave sunk your barge in Thames River. Oh, let us not blink the fact thatyou are not overbeloved in England. So an escort is out of the question.Yet I, madame, if you so elect, will see you safe to Bristol."

  "You? Singly?" the Queen demanded.

  "My plan is this: Singing folk alone travel whither they will. We willgo as jongleurs, then. I can yet manage a song to the viol, I dareaffirm. And you must pass as my wife."

  He said this with simplicity. The plan seemed unreasonable, and at firstDame Alianora waved it aside. Out of the question! But reflectionsuggested nothing better; it was impossible to remain at Longaville, andthe man spoke sober truth when he declared any escort other than himselfto be unprocurable. Besides, the lunar madness of the scheme was itsstrength; that the Queen would venture to cross half Englandunprotected--and Messire Heleigh on the face of him was a paste-boardbuckler--was an event which Leicester would neither anticipate nor onreport credit. There you were! these English had no imagination. TheQueen snapped her fingers and said: "Very willingly will I be your wife,my Osmund. But how do I know that I can trust you? Leicester would givea deal for me; he would pay any price for the pious joy of burning theSorceress of Provence. And you are not wealthy, I suspect."

  "You may trust me, mon bel esper,"--his eyes here were those of a beatenchild--"because my memory is better than yours." Messire Osmund Heleighgathered his papers into a neat pile. "This room is mine. To-night Ikeep
guard in the corridor, madame. We will start at dawn."

  When he had gone, Dame Alianora laughed contentedly. "Mon bel esper! myfairest hope! The man called me that in his verses--thirty years ago!Yes, I may trust you, my poor Osmund."

  So they set out at cockcrow. He had procured for himself a viol and along falchion, and had somewhere got suitable clothes for the Queen; andin their aging but decent garb the two approached near enough to theappearance of what they desired to be thought. In the courtyard a knotof servants gaped, nudged one another, but openly said nothing. MessireHeleigh, as they interpreted it, was brazening out an affair ofgallantry before the countryside; and they esteemed his casualobservation that they would find a couple of dead men on the commonexceedingly diverting.

  When the Queen asked him the same morning, "And what will you sing, myOsmund? Shall we begin the practise of our new profession with theSestina of Spring?"--old Osmund Heleigh grunted out: "I have forgottenthat rubbish long ago. _Omnis amans, amens_, saith the satirist of Rometown, and with reason."

  Followed silence.

  One sees them thus trudging the brown, naked plains under a sky ofsteel. In a pageant the woman, full-veined and comely, her russet gowngirded up like a harvester's might not inaptly have prefigured October;and for less comfortable November you could nowhere have found a symbolmore precise than her lank companion, humorously peevish under his whitethatch of hair, and constantly fretted by the sword tapping at hisankles.

  They made Hurlburt prosperously and found it vacant, for the news ofFalmouth's advance had driven the villagers hillward. There was in thisplace a child, a naked boy of some two years, lying on a doorstep,overlooked in his elders' gross terror. As the Queen with a sob liftedthis boy the child died.

  "Starved!" said Osmund Heleigh; "and within a stone's throw of my snughome!"

  The Queen laid down the tiny corpse, and, stooping, lightly caressedits sparse flaxen hair. She answered nothing, though her lips moved.

  Past Vachel, scene of a recent skirmish, with many dead in the gutters,they were overtaken by Falmouth himself, and stood at the roadside toafford his troop passage. The Marquess, as he went by, flung the Queen acoin, with a jest sufficiently high flavored. She knew the man herinveterate enemy, knew that on recognition he would have killed her ashe would a wolf; she smiled at him and dropped a curtsey.

  "This is remarkable," Messire Heleigh observed. "I was hideously afraid,and am yet shaking. But you, madame, laughed."

  The Queen replied: "I laughed because I know that some day I shall haveLord Falmouth's head. It will be very sweet to see it roll in the dust,my Osmund."

  Messire Heleigh somewhat dryly observed that tastes differed.

  At Jessop Minor befell a more threatening adventure. Seeking food at the_Cat and Hautbois_ in that village, they blundered upon the same troopat dinner in the square about the inn. Falmouth and his lieutenants weresomewhere inside the house. The men greeted the supposed purveyors ofamusement with a shout; and one of these soldiers--a swarthy rascal withhis head tied in a napkin--demanded that the jongleurs grace their mealwith a song.

  Osmund tried to put him off with a tale of a broken viol.

  But, "Haro!" the fellow blustered; "by blood and by nails! you will singmore sweetly with a broken viol than with a broken head. I would haveyou understand, you hedge thief, that we gentlemen of the sword are notpartial to wordy argument." Messire Heleigh fluttered inefficient handsas the men-at-arms gathered about them, scenting some genial piece ofcruelty. "Oh, you rabbit!" the trooper jeered, and caught at Osmund'sthroat, shaking him. In the act this rascal tore open Messire Heleigh'stunic, disclosing a thin chain about his neck and a handsome locket,which the fellow wrested from its fastening. "Ahoi!" he continued."Ahoi, my comrades, what sort of minstrel is this, who goes aboutEngland all hung with gold like a Cathedral Virgin! He and hissweetheart"--the actual word was grosser--"will be none the worse for aninterview with the Marquess."

  The situation smacked of awkwardness, because Lord Falmouth was familiarwith the Queen, and to be brought specifically to his attention meantdeath for two detected masqueraders. Hastily Osmund Heleigh said:

  "Messire, the locket contains the portrait of a lady whom in my youth Iloved very greatly. Save to me, it is valueless. I pray you, do not robme of it."

  But the trooper shook his head with drunken solemnity. "I do not likethe looks of this. Yet I will sell it to you, as the saying is, for asong."

  "It shall be the king of songs," said Osmund,--"the song that ArnautDaniel first made. I will sing for you a Sestina, messieurs,--a Sestinain salutation of Spring."

  The men disposed themselves about the dying grass, and presently hesang.

  Sang Messire Heleigh:

  "Awaken! for the servitors of Spring Proclaim his triumph! ah, make haste to see With what tempestuous pageantry they bring The victor homeward! haste, for this is he That cast out Winter and all woes that cling To Winter's garments, and bade April be!

  "And now that Spring is master, let us be Content, and laugh, as anciently in spring The battle-wearied Tristan laughed, when he Was come again Tintagel-ward, to bring Glad news of Arthur's victory--and see Ysoude, with parted lips, that waver and cling.

  "Not yet in Brittany must Tristan cling To this or that sad memory, and be Alone, as she in Cornwall; for in spring Love sows against far harvestings,--and he Is blind, and scatters baleful seed that bring Such fruitage as blind Love lacks eyes to see!"

  Osmund paused here for an appreciable interval, staring at the Queen.You saw his flabby throat a-quiver, his eyes melting, saw his cheekskindle, and youth seeping into the lean man like water over a crumblingdam. His voice was now big and desirous.

  Sang Messire Heleigh:

  "Love sows, but lovers reap; and ye will see The loved eyes lighten, feel the loved lips cling, Never again when in the grave ye be Incurious of your happiness in spring, And get no grace of Love there, whither he That bartered life for love no love may bring.

  "No braggart Heracles avails to bring Alcestis hence; nor here may Roland see The eyes of Aude; nor here the wakening spring Vex any man with memories: for there be No memories that cling as cerements cling, No force that baffles Death, more strong than he.

  "Us hath he noted, and for us hath he An hour appointed; and that hour will bring Oblivion.--Then, laugh! Laugh, dear, and see The tyrant mocked, while yet our bosoms cling, While yet our lips obey us, and we be Untrammeled in our little hour of spring!

  "Thus in the spring we jeer at Death, though he Will see our children perish and will briny Asunder all that cling while love may be."

  Then Osmund put the viol aside and sat quite silent. The soldieryjudged, and with cordial frankness stated, that the difficulty of hisrhyming scheme did not atone for his lack of indecency, but when theQueen of England went among them with Messire Heleigh's faded green hatshe found them liberal. Even the fellow with the broken head admittedthat a bargain was proverbially a bargain, and returned the locket withthe addition of a coin. So for the present these two went safe, andquitted the _Cat and Hautbois_ fed and unmolested.

  "My Osmund," Dame Alianora said, presently, "your memory is better thanI had thought."

  "I remembered a boy and a girl," he returned. "And I grieved that theywere dead."

  Afterward they plodded on toward Bowater, and the ensuing night restedin Chantrell Wood. They had the good fortune there to encounter dry andwindless weather and a sufficiency of brushwood, with which Osmundconstructed an agreeable fire. In its glow these two sat, eating breadand cheese.

  But talk languished at the outset. The Queen had complained of an ague,and Messire Heleigh was sedately suggesting three spiders hung about theneck as an infallible corrective for this ailment, when Dame Alianorarose to her feet. "Eh, my God!" she said; "I am wearied of suchungracious aid! Not an inch of the way but you have been thinking ofyour filthy books and longing to be back at them! No; I except themoments when you were frightened in
to forgetfulness--first by Falmouth,then by the trooper. O Eternal Father! afraid of a single dirtysoldier!"

  "Indeed, I was very much afraid," said Messire Heleigh, with perfectsimplicity; "_timidus perire, madame._"

  "You have not even the grace to be ashamed! Yet I am shamed, messire,that Osmund Heleigh should have become the book-muddled pedant you are.For I loved young Osmund Heleigh."

  He also had risen in the firelight, and now its convulsive shadowsmarred two dogged faces. "I think it best not to recall that boy andgirl who are so long dead. And, frankly, madame and Queen, the merit ofthe business I have in hand is questionable. It is you who have set allEngland by the ears, and I am guiding you toward opportunities forfurther mischief. I must serve you. Understand, madame, that ancientfolly in Provence yonder has nothing to do with the affair. Count Manuelleft you: and between his evasion and your marriage you were pleased toamuse yourself with me--"

  "You were more civil then, my Osmund--"

  "I am not uncivil, I merely point out that this old folly constitutesno overwhelming obligation, either way. I cry _nihil ad Andromachen!_For the rest, I must serve you because you are a woman and helpless; yetI cannot forget that he who spares the wolf is the sheep's murderer. Itwould be better for all England if you were dead. Hey, your gorgeousfollies, madame! Silver peacocks set with sapphires! Cloth of finegold--"

  "Would you have me go unclothed?" Dame Alianora demanded, pettishly.

  "Not so," Osmund retorted; "again I say to you with Tertullian, 'Letwomen paint their eyes with the tints of chastity, insert into theirears the Word of God, tie the yoke of Christ about their necks, andadorn their whole person with the silk of sanctity and the damask ofdevotion.' I say to you that the boy you wish to rescue fromWallingford, and make King of England, is freely rumored to be notverily the son of Sire Henry but the child of tall Manuel of Poictesme.I say to you that from the first you have made mischief in England. AndI say to you--"

  But Dame Alianora was yawning quite frankly. "You will say to me that Ibrought foreigners into England, that I misguided the King, that Istirred up strife between the King and his barons. Eh, my God! I amsufficiently familiar with the harangue. Yet listen, my Osmund: Theysold me like a bullock to a man I had never seen. I found him a man ofwax, and I remoulded him. They asked of me an heir for England: Iprovided that heir. They gave me England as a toy; I played with it. Iwas the Queen, the source of honor, the source of wealth--the trough, ineffect, about which swine gathered. Never since I came into England,Osmund, has any man or woman loved me; never in all my English life haveI loved man or woman. Do you understand, my Osmund?--the Queen has manyflatterers, but no friends. Not a friend in the world, my Osmund! And sothe Queen made the best of it and amused herself."

  Somewhat he seemed to understand, for he answered without asperity:

  "Mon bel esper, I do not find it anywhere in Holy Writ that God requiresit of us to amuse ourselves; but upon many occasions we have beencommanded to live righteously. We are tempted in divers and insidiousways. And we cry with the Psalmist, 'My strength is dried up like apotsherd.' But God intends this, since, until we have here demonstratedour valor upon Satan, we are manifestly unworthy to be enregistered inGod's army. The great Captain must be served by proven soldiers. We maybe tempted, but we may not yield. O daughter of the South! we must notyield!"

  "Again you preach," Dame Alianora said. "That is a venerable truism."

  "Ho, madame," he returned, "is it on that account the less true?"

  Pensively the Queen considered this. "You are a good man, my Osmund,"she said, at last, "though you are very droll. Ohime! it is a pity thatI was born a princess! Had it been possible for me to be your wife, Iwould have been a better woman. I shall sleep now and dream of that goodand stupid and contented woman I might have been." So presently thesetwo slept in Chantrell Wood.

  Followed four days of journeying. As Messer Dante had not yet surveyedMalebolge, Osmund Heleigh and Dame Alianora lacked a parallel for thatwhich they encountered; their traverse discovered England razed,charred, and depopulate--picked bones of an island, a vast and absoluteruin about which passion-wasted men skulked like rats. Messire Heleighand the Queen traveled without molestation; malice and death hadjourneyed before them on this road, and had swept it clear.

  At every trace of these hideous precessors Osmund Heleigh would say, "Bya day's ride I might have prevented this." Or, "By a day's ride I mighthave saved this woman." Or, "By two days' riding I might have fed thischild."

  The Queen kept Spartan silence, but daily you saw the fine woman age. Intheir slow advance every inch of misery was thrust before her forinspection; meticulously she observed and evaluated her handiwork.Enthroned, she had appraised from a distance the righteous wars she setafoot; trudging thus among the debris of these wars, she found they hadunsuspected aspects. Bastling the royal army had recently sacked.There remained of this village the skeletons of two houses, and for therest a jumble of bricks, rafters half-burned, many calcined fragments ofhumanity, and ashes. At Bastling, Messire Heleigh turned to the Queentoiling behind.

  "Oh, madame!" he said, in a dry whisper, "this was the home of so manymen!"

  "I burned it," Dame Alianora replied. "That man we passed just now Ikilled. Those other men and women--my folly slew them all. And littlechildren, my Osmund! The hair like flax, blood-dabbled!"

  "Oh, madame!" he wailed, in the extremity of his pity.

  For she stood with eyes shut, all gray. The Queen demanded: "Why havethey not slain me? Was there no man in England to strangle the proudwanton? Are you all cowards here?"

  He said: "I detect only one coward in the affair. Your men andLeicester's men also ride about the world, and draw sword and slay anddie for the right as they see it. And you and Leicester contend for theright as ye see it. But I, madame! I! I, who sat snug at home spillingink and trimming rose-bushes! God's world, madame, and I in it afraid tospeak a word for Him! God's world, and a curmudgeon in it grudging Godthe life He gave!" The man flung out his soft hands and snarled: _"Weare tempted in divers and insidious ways._ But I, who rebuked you!behold, now, with how gross a snare was I entrapped!" "I do notunderstand, my Osmund."

  "I was afraid, madame," he returned, dully. "Everywhere men fight, and Iam afraid to die."

  So they stood silent in the ruins of Bastling.

  "Of a piece with our lives," Dame Alianora said at last. "All ruin, myOsmund."

  But Messire Heleigh threw back his head and laughed, new color in hisface. "Presently men will build here, my Queen. Presently, as in legendwas re-born the Arabian bird, arises from these ashes a lordlier andmore spacious town."

  They went forward. The next day chance loosed upon them Gui Camoys, lordof Bozon, Foliot, and Thwenge, who, riding alone through Poges Copse,found there a man and a woman over their limited supper. The woman hadthrown back her hood, and Camoys drew rein to stare at her. Lispingly hespoke the true court dialect.

  "Ma belle," said this Camoys, in friendly condescension, "n'estez vouspas jongleurs?"

  Dame Alianora smiled up at him. "Ouais, messire; mon mary faict leschancons--" She paused, with dilatory caution, for Camoys had leapedfrom his horse, giving a great laugh.

  "A prize! ho, an imperial prize!" Camoys shouted. "A peasant woman withthe Queen's face, who speaks French! And who, madame, is this? Have youby any chance brought pious Lewis from oversea? Have I bagged a braceof monarchs?"

  Here was imminent danger, for Camoys had known the Queen some fifteenyears. Messire Heleigh rose, his five days' beard glinting likehoar-frost as his mouth twitched.

  "I am Osmund Heleigh, messire, younger brother to the Earl of Brudenel."

  "I have heard of you, I believe--the fellow who spoils parchment. Thisis odd company, however, Messire Osmund, for Brudenel's brother."

  "A gentleman must serve his Queen, messire. As Cicero very justlyobserves--"

  "I am inclined to think that his political opinions are scarcely to ourimmediate purpose. This is a high matte
r, Messire Heleigh. To let thesorceress pass is, of course, out of the question; upon the other hand,I observe that you lack weapons of defence. Yet if you will have thekindness to assist me in unarming, your courtesy will place our commerceon more equal footing."

  Osmund had turned very white. "I am no swordsman, messire--"

  "Now, this is not handsome of you," Camoys began. "I warn you thatpeople will speak harshly of us if we lose this opportunity of gaininghonor. And besides, the woman will be burned at the stake. Plainly, youowe it to all three of us to fight."

  "--But I refer my cause to God. I am quite at your service." "No, myOsmund!" Dame Alianora then cried. "It means your death."

  He spread out his hands. "That is God's affair, madame."

  "Are you not afraid?" she breathed.

  "Of course I am afraid," said Messire Heleigh, irritably.

  After that he unarmed Camoys, and presently they faced each other intheir tunics. So for the first time in the journey Osmund's longfalchion saw daylight. He had thrown away his dagger, as Camoys hadnone.

  The combat was sufficiently curious. Camoys raised his left hand. "Sohelp me God and His saints, I have upon me neither bone, stone, norwitchcraft wherethrough the power and the word of God might bediminished or the devil's power increased."

  Osmund made similar oath. "Judge Thou this woman's cause!" he cried,likewise.

  Then Gui Camoys shouted, as a herald might have done, "Laissez lesaller, laissez les aller, laissez les aller, les bons combatants!" andwarily each moved toward the other.

  On a sudden Osmund attacked, desperately apprehensive of his owncowardice. Camoys lightly eluded him and slashed at Osmund's undefendedthigh, drawing much blood. Osmund gasped. He flung away his sword, andin the instant catching Camoys under the arms, threw him to the ground.Messire Heleigh fell with his opponent, who in stumbling had lost hissword, and thus the two struggled unarmed, Osmund atop. But Camoys wasthe younger man, and Osmund's strength was ebbing rapidly by reason ofhis wound. Now Camoys' tethered horse, rearing with nervousness, tumbledhis master's flat-topped helmet into the road. Osmund caught up thishelmet and with it battered Camoys in the face, dealing severe blows.

  "God!" Camoys cried, his face all blood.

  "Do you acknowledge my quarrel just?" said Osmund, between horrid sobs.

  "What choice have I?" said Gui Camoys, very sensibly.

  So Osmund rose, blind with tears and shivering. The Queen bound up theirwounds as best she might, but Camoys was much dissatisfied.

  "For private purposes of His own, madame," he observed, "and doubtlessfor sufficient reasons, God has singularly favored your cause. I amneither a fool nor a pagan to question His decision, and you two may goyour way unhampered. But I have had my head broken with my own helmet,and this I consider to be a proceeding very little conducive towardenhancing my reputation. Of your courtesy, messire, I must entreatanother meeting."

  Osmund shrank as if from a blow. Then, with a short laugh, he concededthat this was Camoys' right, and they fixed upon the following Saturday,with Poges Copse as the rendezvous.

  "I would suggest that the combat be to the death," Gui Camoys said, "inconsideration of the fact it was my own helmet. You must undoubtedly beaware, Messire Osmund, that such an affront is practically without anyparallel."

  This, too, was agreed upon.

  Then, after asking if they needed money, which was courteously declined,Gui Camoys rode away, and sang as he went. Osmund Heleigh remainedmotionless. He raised quivering hands to the sky.

  "Thou hast judged!" he cried. "Thou hast judged, O puissant Emperor ofHeaven! Now pardon! Pardon us twain! Pardon for unjust stewards of Thygifts! Thou hast loaned this woman dominion over England, with allinstruments to aid Thy cause, and this trust she has abused. Thou hastloaned me life and manhood, agility and wit and strength, allinstruments to aid Thy cause. Talents in a napkin, O God! Repentant wecry to Thee. Pardon for unjust stewards! Pardon for the ungirt loin, forthe service shirked, for all good deeds undone! Pardon and grace, O Kingof kings!"

  Thus he prayed, while Gui Camoys sang, riding deeper into the tattered,yellowing forest. By an odd chance Camoys had lighted on that song madeby Thibaut of Champagne, beginning _Signor, saciez, ki or ne s'en ira_,which denounces all half-hearted servitors of Heaven; and this he sangwith a lilt gayer than his matter countenanced. Faintly there now cameto Osmund and the Queen the sound of Camoys' singing, and they found it,in the circumstances, ominously apt.

  Sang Camoys:

  "Et vos, par qui je n'ci onques aie, Descendez luit en infer le parfont."

  Dame Alianora shivered. But she was a capable woman, and so she said: "Imay have made mistakes. But I am sure I never meant any harm, and I amsure, too, that God will be more sensible about it than are you poets."

  They slept that night in Ousley Meadow, and the next afternoon camesafely to Bristol. You may learn elsewhere with what rejoicing the royalarmy welcomed the Queen's arrival, how courage quickened at sight of thegenerous virago. In the ebullition Messire Heleigh was submerged, andDame Alianora saw nothing more of him that day. Friday there werecounsels, requisitions, orders signed, a memorial despatched to PopeUrban, chief of all a letter (this in the Queen's hand throughout)privily conveyed to the Lady Maude de Mortemer, who shortly afterwardcontrived Prince Edward's escape from her husband's gaolership. Therewas much sowing of a seed, in fine, that eventually flowered victory.There was, however, no sign of Osmund Heleigh, though by Dame Alianora'sorder he was sought.

  On Saturday at seven in the morning he came to her lodging, in completearmor. From the open helmet his wrinkled face, showing like a wizenednut in a shell, smiled upon her questionings.

  "I go to fight Gui Camoys, madame and Queen."

  Dame Alianora wrung her hands. "You go to your death."

  He answered: "That is true. Therefore I am come to bid you farewell."

  The Queen stared at him for a while; on a sudden she broke into acurious fit of deep but tearless sobbing, which bordered upon laughter,too.

  "Mon bel esper," said Osmund Heleigh, gently, "what is there in all thisworthy of your sorrow? The man will kill me; granted, for he is myjunior by some fifteen years, and is in addition a skilled swordsman. Ifail to see that this is lamentable. Back to Longaville I cannot goafter recent happenings; there a rope's end awaits me. Here I must inany event shortly take to the sword, since a beleaguered army has verylittle need of ink-pots; and shortly I must be slain in some skirmish,dug under the ribs perhaps by a greasy fellow I have never seen. Iprefer a clean death at a gentleman's hands."

  "It is I who bring about your death!" she said. "You gave me gallantservice, and I have requited you with death, and it is a great pity."

  "Indeed the debt is on the other side. The trivial services I renderedyou were such as any gentleman must render a woman in distress. Naughtelse have I afforded you, madame, save very anciently a Sestina. Ho, aSestina! And in return you have given me a Sestina of fairer make,--aSestina of days, six days of manly common living." His eyes werefervent.

  She kissed him on either cheek. "Farewell, my champion!"

  "Ay, your champion. In the twilight of life old Osmund Heleigh ridesforth to defend the quarrel of Alianora of Provence. Reign wisely, myQueen, so that hereafter men may not say I was slain in an evil cause.Do not, I pray you, shame my maiden venture at a man's work."

  "I will not shame you," the Queen proudly said; and then, with a changeof voice: "O my Osmund! My Osmund, you have a folly that is divine, andI lack it."

  He caught her by each wrist, and stood crushing both her hands to hislips, with fierce staring. "Wife of my King! wife of my King!" hebabbled; and then put her from him, crying, "I have not failed you!Praise God, I have not failed you!"

  From her window she saw him ride away, a rich flush of glitter andcolor. In new armor with a smart emblazoned surcoat the lean pedant satconspicuously erect; and as he went he sang defiantly, taunting theweakness of his flesh.

  Sang Osmund Heleigh:


  "Love sows, but lovers reap; and ye will see The loved eyes lighten, feel the loved lips cling Never again when in the grave ye be Incurious of your happiness in spring, And get no grace of Love, there, whither he That bartered life for love no love may bring."

  So he rode away and thus out of our history. But in the evening GuiCamoys came into Bristol under a flag of truce, and behind him heaved alitter wherein lay Osmund Heleigh's body.

  "For this man was frank and courteous," Camoys said to the Queen, "andin the matter of the reparation he owed me acted very handsomely. It isfitting that he should have honorable interment."

  "That he shall not lack," the Queen said, and gently unclasped fromOsmund's wrinkled neck the thin gold chain, now locketless. "There was aportrait here," she said; "the portrait of a woman whom he loved in hisyouth, Messire Camoys. And all his life it lay above his heart."

  Camoys answered stiffly: "I imagine this same locket to have been theobject which Messire Heleigh flung into the river, shortly before webegan our combat. I do not rob the dead, madame."

  "Well," the Queen said, "he always did queer things, and so, I shallalways wonder what sort of lady he picked out to love, but it is none ofmy affair."

  Afterward she set to work on requisitions in the King's name. But OsmundHeleigh she had interred at Ambresbury, commanding it to be written onhis tomb that he died in the Queen's cause.

  How the same cause prospered (Nicolas concludes), how presently DameAlianora reigned again in England and with what wisdom, and how in theend this great Queen died a nun at Ambresbury and all England wepttherefor--this you may learn elsewhere. I have chosen to record six daysof a long and eventful life; and (as Messire Heleigh might have done) Isay modestly with him of old, _Majores majora sonent._ Nevertheless, Iassert that many a forest was once a pocketful of acorns.

  THE END OF THE FIRST NOVEL