Arthur Gilchrist Brodeur

“ Then Cercamon had cause to rejoice at the feeble, flickering light cast by the two torches of the guard; for outside their radiance the huge crypt was a black well of darkness, and his own figure, between the Norman and his followers, threw D'Orbec into deep shadow. Letting the wide sleeve of his gown touch D'Orbec's arm, even as the door moved, Cercamon slid his fingers cunningly over the Norman's hilt—the hilt of the great sword stolen from Pierre. Then, thrusting hard with his free left hand, the troubadour flung his foe backward with all his strength, jerking at the hilt with his right. ”

“ Young Geoffrey was a spoiled child, whose tyrannous caprice would do more harm in Anjou than a wise ruler could undo. He chafed at the tight rein his older brother held him on, and his resentment was dangerous; but it would be worse to give him his head.
“I am playing a sharp game for high stakes, Pierre,” Henry resumed. “I cannot tell even you what hangs on the turn of the dice. But to win I must be stronger than my foes. If my barons desert me because you, whom they hate, have slain one of them, I shall lose. I shall lose England, Normandy perhaps, Anjou and Touraine certainly. ”

“ Cercamon said softly, “for that title of gentleman, which my birth scarce deserves.”
The duchess smiled enchantingly.
“You are a gentleman by nature, which is better than the nobility of birth. Being a queen has taught me much, and not all of it pleasant— But you say I have a prisoner?”
“So I am told, your Grace. One who is my friend.” He did not smile now; his eyes were grave, but full of confidence.
Aliénor nodded, tapping thoughtfully with her slipper.
“You mean?” she parried.
“Pierre Faidit. You mean to have him hanged tomorrow.” ”

“ Lay no hand on a Norman gentleman again, lest that which befall you be a terror to all France. Go to your chamber, and bide there till I send for you!”
Pierre withdrew, his head higher than ever; but his eyes stung with restrained tears of rage and humiliation. Deus! How he had served this tempestuous boy, ay, loved him! What a reward for his labor, his sacrifice, the blood he had gladly given! Shamed before all the court! When he reached the corridor his proud, firm step faltered; he stumbled up the stair to his chamber.
Ormeric D'Orbec, his face swathed in bandages, glared after him. ”

“ I know nothing more—but I smell evil. I also would go to Tours.”
Henry started, and his hot eyes flashed.
“Not you, lad! Pierre is safe there, but you—you would not be!”
“It is said,” Geoffrey observed blandly—but with a covert glance at his mother—“that he has an enemy who hates you also, troubadour.”
Cercamon turned his blue-green eyes full on the boy, as if seeking to probe his heart.
“What mean you, lord Count?” he asked.
Mathilde cut in between them.
“He means nothing, save that he is a fool who will some day die of his folly! Play with the ladies, girl-face; men wear weapons.” ”

“ The duke is a hard man, but honest. I think he trusted to Pierre's shrewdness to keep him out of danger. Yet that there is danger if Aliénor learns of his coming, I can not deny. It is very bad that Hugo also has gone—perhaps to Tours.”
Geoffrey, after a moment's hesitation, ventured a bold stroke.
“You are wise, Cercamon. You know Henry's ways. It is not his way to betray his servants. But it is ever his wont to seize what power he can. Do you not see why he has come here, where he can be so near Aliénor?” ”

“ Cercamon watched him with understanding. Pierre de l'Espée—Pierre of the Sword—ay, he was well named. By the sword he lived; he loved his sword; no man in France was his equal in duel or mêlée. His sword was to him what wife and children are to other men: there was comfort in the mere touch of it.
“I ride to Angers within the hour,” Cercamon broke the silence, “on the duke's errand. I am to escort his mother, the Lady Mathilde, to Chinon. That means there is something afoot. He always seeks her counsel when he plans some bold stroke.” ”

“ All else was dark and silent, for the duke enforced the law with a hard hand.
Of a sudden Pierre, with his soldier's ear, caught the thin grate of steel on stone. Stopping instantly, he clapped hand to hilt and listened. It was nothing to him that other armored men—who might have leave, as he himself had—walked the streets after curfew; but it was much that they walked stealthily. Stretch his ears as he might, he heard nothing more. Treading so softly that his mail scarce rustled, he resumed his way toward the castle. ”

“ His brother's eyes met his across the table. Hugo raised his black eyebrows; Ormeric nodded and grinned wickedly. The knights and ladies, seeing the cloud lift from their lord's brow, heaved a great sigh of relief, and fell to food and laughter.
Pierre sat for many hours in his dark chamber, staring out at the stars and the lights of the town mirrored in the dark bosom of the Vienne. He had never known such wretchedness—nay, not since that bitter night, five years since, when he had stumbled over the dead body of his first lord, Alphonse-Jourdain of Toulouse. ”

“ The duchess swept him a low courtesy.
“Loose him, messires!” she commanded. “There is neither purpose nor wisdom in holding captive a man unarmed—whose master's anger is more perilous than many swords.”
“Your Grace is magnanimous as ever,” the troubadour smiled. She felt the mockery, and swept him with a swift, challenging glance.
“Why not? I know full well it were dangerous to lay hands on you. You are Henry Plantagenet's man; I am in his territories. There is no man in his realm whom he values as highly as he does you. ”

“ He who had spoken first turned at the crunch of Pierre's mailed feet on the flags; and at sight of Pierre's eyes his swarthy face paled. He plucked at his companion's sleeve. But Pierre was on them in one long stride. Grasping the big man's shoulder with fingers that stung through the mail, he whirled him about.
“Sir Ormeric D'Orbec,” he said quite softly, “it ill beseems a gentleman to say in another's absence what he dares not say to his face. If Cercamon were here, you would be the first to fawn on him. ”

“ It chances that I know—and for a price, will tell—the danger that threatens you. Unless you yield what I ask, you will be carried off—ay, from Tours itself—to become the wife of a man without lands, almost without title. Your Grace knows—”
Aliénor eyes blazed.
“Ay, I know! All France will laugh if I, who have been Queen of France, am forced into a marriage with one who can bring me neither lands nor coronet! Tell me—who threatens me? How may I escape? How know I that you speak truth?”
“Your Grace has called me a gentleman,” Cercamon retorted. “On the honor of a gentleman, I speak truth. ”

“ In Henry's own court there were those who guessed much, and shrewdly, concerning this journey to Chinon. For not only princes, but barons, had their spies out, knowing that this year was big with the fate of Europe. Every man who boasted noble blood and had swords to fight for him waited on events to fling himself into the mad scramble for lands and power; every prince watched his barons, fearing to read the treachery he suspected in their hearts. ”

“ Pierre Faidit donned the hauberk and told over two gold crowns.
“Your work will turn arrows, Barsand, and that means much. A Cordovan Moor forged those rings. My thanks!”
Leaving the armorer's, where bare blades and shirts of mail hung ghostly in the flare of the forge, he passed out into the narrow street. It was dark as a cavern after the red glow of the smithy; the tall houses, with their projecting eaves, shut out what little light the stars afforded. Peering about him, Pierre took the middle of the cobbled way, which writhed like a snake through the foulest part of the old town. ”

“ They sprang to bar his way just as an officer clattered up the stair and demanded entrance. The men-at-arms parted to let the officer by, and Cercamon leaped in at his heels.
He closed the door behind him, set his back against it, and smiled into the astonished officer's face. He trusted his cast-off disguise was still a secret. A monk had stood on the landing below; and now a courtier in armor, weaponless and so not dangerous, stood, debonair and self-reliant, in the midst of an angry group.
The officer fronted him, hand on sword, while the Gascon guards pushed at the door. ”

“ Impossible to forge the duke's seal, so that you should not see the deception? To counterfeit his hand well enough to beguile you and the governor both? Impossible for me, ay; but not for—the duke's clerk!”
“Gerald?” Pierre's tone was weary, but incredulous. “He is loyal.”
“LOYAL? Thou fool! No man is loyal beyond his price. The price of Gerald's honesty was fifty gold crowns—a tidy sum, eh? But it was worth as much to avenge my brother. It was Gerald from whom I learned of Aliénor's presence here, Gerald who wrote and signed the forged letter, copying the duke's hand to perfection ”

“ I need friends, and you will keep my secret. If Henry marries Aliénor, he will be the strongest man in France—stronger than the king. But if—if that should happen which would prevent such a marriage—”
“Stop, my lord!” Cercamon interrupted. “I can hear no more. What you have said I will not disclose to your brother; but I am his vassal, bound to him by the strongest ties of loyalty and regard. I will ride to Tours alone.”
Geoffrey sighed.
“As you will. I am sorry, for you could have helped me—and I you. I fear greatly that your refusal will prevent me from saving Pierre in his dire peril.” ”

“ It needed not the fire in Cercamon's blue-green eyes to win the squire's eager nod. He knew the repute of the troubadour's sword-arm.
“It will comfort you to know that you stand to win the duke's favor and my friendship—and mayhap much gold. You are to lie in wait in the passage just above the door to the crypt, and seize the duchess's confessor. Take him swiftly, lest he cry out. Bind and gag him if you will; it will make less trouble. Hide him so securely that none can find him, and do not set him free till I have left Tours. Bring me his gown and the ring he wears. ”

“ Cercamon promised. “I pray you, let me have the letter soon, for I would ride tonight.”
“HE WHO rides fast rides to a fall,” muttered Cercamon to himself, as the watch-fires on the crest of Chinon Castle died to yellow patches against the night. The town was well behind him, the highroad before, and a good—but not a handsome—horse between his knees. He had stolen away as secretly as possible; yet, though his anxiety for Pierre tugged at his nerves, he reined his mount in to a dog-trot, his ear inclined down-wind to catch the least sound. ”

“ Well, by this time—and before—he has learned that you are not in Chinon. He will have guessed that you might use his confidence to force Aliénor to give me up. He will assume, then, that the city is prepared for his coming, and will not dare attack it. He will also suspect that the duchess, frightened by your warning, will flee for her own city of Poitiers. Therefore he will ride, not hither, but straight for the Tours-Poitiers road, and set an ambush for her there,”
Cercamon nodded.
“If he is not a fool, yes. I count on his doing so. Your head is clear as ever, my Pierre.” ”