The Last of the Vikings Part 33

"The age of chivalry is gone. That of sophisters, economists, and calculators has succeeded."--Burke.

The time had now come about on which De Montfort had promised his daughter to Vigneau. As was the wont invariably of the Normans, the ceremony must be preceded by the usual festivities, the most marked of which was the tournament, or feat of arms. During the reign of our late king Edward, this was one of the things in which the idle and dissolute Norman n.o.bility who came over in swarms spent their time. To my very great sorrow and disappointment, the Saxon n.o.bility copied only too slavishly this vain and foolish propensity, many of the Saxons being quite a match for the most skilful of the Normans. For some weeks before the marriage festivities were to begin, messengers had been sent out to the various Norman encampments situate within a reasonable distance; and many knights were expected to take part in the joust. The place which was selected for this spectacle was near to the castle, and well adapted for the humbler people, who never failed to gather in considerable numbers. The tournament would take place in a considerable hollow, with green hillsides and dense copses around, where a mult.i.tude might witness the wondrous pageantry and the struggle for the honours of the day. The central arena, where the knights were to contend, was a s.p.a.cious enclosure, railed round to the height of about four feet, having two means of entrance and exit, one at each side, directly opposite each other, the one used as an entrance solely. There knights, squires, marshals, judges, etc., were to enter in all the panoply of war and glittering accoutrements. The other opening was used exclusively for purposes of exit. Here discomfited knights, disabled horses, and others who wished to retire might emerge. To the right of the main entrance was a raised platform, covered with rich tapestry, and capable of seating some fifty persons. Upon this platform was a dais, or raised central platform of small dimensions, on which the throne, an elegantly upholstered chair, was placed, and designed for the occupation of the "Queen of Beauty." The crowd were kept waiting considerably after the appointed time, in antic.i.p.ation of an expected knight from over the sea; from whom a messenger had been sent, announcing his intention of taking part in this knightly fray. Eventually, however, Count de Montfort, amid a flourish of trumpets, issued from the gates of the castle, with his daughter leaning upon his arm, followed by two of her maids and a formidable retinue of invited guests, amongst whom was the Abbot Vigneau, and one or two other ecclesiastics, and a number of Norman guests. De Montfort escorted his daughter to the throne, and Jeannette occupied a seat to the right of her. Most fascinatingly lovely was Alice as she sat in the place of honour, with the victor's chaplet by her side. Pale, nervous, and anxious, but a veritable queen withal she looked--her l.u.s.trous dark eyes, and ma.s.ses of dark wavy hair flowing in graceful undulations over her shoulders, and down to her girdle; her head crowned with a coronet of beautiful flowers, and one solitary gem in the centre. All eyes were upon her. Men of gentle blood marvelled at her surpa.s.sing loveliness. Norman men-at-arms and Saxon churls turned dazed and dreamy eyes towards her, with a persistent gaze as of fascination. Most of those present, whether gentle or simple, knew well the manner of man her betrothed was; for Vigneau was notorious in the camp and the cot for his gross villainy; and most knew, or surmised, that to-morrow's nuptial tie would be to her a most hateful tie, and a most unhappy union.

Jeannette sat close to her mistress; but no dark cloud frowned ominously over her as over her mistress. Volatile and mercurial to a degree, she never courted trouble, or recognised his unwelcome visage until it was thrust upon her; though, like most natures of a like temperament, when once fairly cornered, as we have seen, the collapse was pitiable and complete. There, however, she sat, perfectly self-possessed, with an irrepressible flutter of expectation in her heart and unfaltering confidence in her star, which was the wonderful and valorous Wulfhere, whom that day she should see companying with knights and men of renown.

There was more than a wonted animation in her eye, and the roses on her cheek had taken a deeper and a rosier tint. All agog with the pleasing promptings of her fluttering little heart, she ran her eyes along the ranks of the common people who lined the enclosure, or stood together in groups, discussing the merits of the combatants who were to take part, and the spectacle which every one looked forward to with such zest. But Saxon and Norman alike of inferior station were to her contemptible; and as her eyes fell upon Paul Lazaire, who with despondent gaze looked at her, she could not restrain a saucy and coquettish smirk of laughter, which Paul, who thought she never looked half so lovely before, put a favourable construction upon, and was greatly comforted.

"Jeannette," said Alice, turning to her anxiously, "I fear the day will be disastrous, and the Saxon knight will be discovered. That would be most fearful; I don't think I could survive it."

"Don't be alarmed, my lady; I am not in the least. Wulfhere and the Earl will be a match for them all, I'm sure."

"But, Jeannette, what could a single knight do, contending with so many foes?"

"One knight truly would not do much; but you forget, my lady, that he is sure to be accompanied by his valiant squire."

"But a solitary esquire would not be of much use. If the Earl be discovered, he would be surrounded and cut to pieces."

"Never fear, my lady, you will see Wulfhere will protect him. He'll soon make an end of a score of this beer-drinking crew."

"Really, Jeannette," said Alice, smiling in spite of herself, "you have a good deal of faith in this Wulfhere."

"Why should I not? He is as pretty a man, and just as valiant as his leader, and I never intend to halt for want of faith, or starve for want of hope. Besides, don't you know there has been given to me an _omen_?--and I have noticed that they always come true if you have faith in them."

"Oh, indeed! Pray, what is the _omen_ you have had, Jeannette?"

"Well, last night when I went to bed it was not quite dark, and I have a little window in my room which overlooks a certain spot in the wood which I shall not tell you about, for it is my _tryste_."

"Your _tryste_, Jeannette? I am afraid you will never cease your coquetry and foolishness. But your _omen_, Jeannette?"

"Well, I was telling you. It was not dark when I went to bed, so I sat down in front of this window which faces the place where the Saxon and I meet."

"_The Saxon_, Jeannette?"

"Yes, my lady, the Saxon Wulfhere. Well, in front of the window I told my beads for a full hour or more."

"Told your beads, Jeannette I Why, was that to Wulfhere, or to our Blessed Lady?"

"To our Lady, of course, though I was thinking about Wulfhere. But I said my _aves_ and _paters_ to our Blessed Lady most dutifully. Then, when I went to bed, I put my beads under my pillow as usual, and I soon fell asleep. Then I dreamed such a strange and wonderful dream. I dreamt that I was walking through the woods all alone, when I was startled by a horrid, howling noise behind me, and, turning round, I beheld a number of fierce wolves pursuing me. I ran for my life, but they ran faster than I did, and just as the first one was about to grasp me with its fearful teeth, who should come to my rescue but Wulfhere. I sprang into his arms, and just as he clasped me safely the wolves all turned tail and ran off into the wood as though they had been whipped, for they ran as fast as they could scamper, and howled fearfully. Then I saw there was a holy man with Wulfhere, with whitened beard, and bearing a crucifix with our Blessed Lord thereon. This holy man took my rosary from my hand, and he placed it around my neck. Then he took my hand and joined it with Wulfhere's. After this, Wulfhere kissed me and placed a ring on my finger, and I was his wife. Then the holy man placed his hands on us as we kneeled before him, and he gave us his blessing. But, wonderful to tell, in the morning when I awoke, I knew it had all taken place as I dreamed; for I found the rosary was indeed around my neck, though I am almost certain I put it under my pillow the night before. I also felt most distinctly Wulfhere's kiss upon my cheek; and, when I looked in the gla.s.s, sure enough there was a little rosy spot around this little dimple on my cheek where he kissed me."

Jeannette's invaluable optimism and unflagging hopefulness, though simple almost to the verge of childishness, did much to fortify Alice for the trying ordeal before her. In spite of her anxiety, she laughed outright at the recital of Jeannette's dream. Presently, at the sound of the trumpet the castle gates were again thrown open, and forth issued a gaily dressed cavalcade; heralds, marshals, judges, leading the way, and followed by eight or ten knights armed _cap-a-pie_, each one being attended by his esquire. Alice scrutinised closely each knight as they severally filed past her, and dipped the point of their lances in salutation.

"The Saxon is not here. Some accident, I fear, has happened," she tremulously whispered to Jeannette.

"Don't agitate yourself, my lady; they will not fail us. Wulfhere said I should see his face this day; but I was to be careful not to show my recognition of him, or I should probably betray them."

Now the scene presented an animated appearance, as the knights and their esquires ranged themselves on opposite sides of the enclosure, whilst the heralds, marshals, and judges rode between the ranks, examining the points of each combatant's lance, to see that each one was blunt, and such as was allowed by the laws of the tourney.

Meanwhile, Norman soldiers crowd round the enclosure, whilst here and there groups of Saxons are wedged amongst them. Some half-dozen Saxon churls have been stood together on the outskirts of the crowd for some time, engaged in eager conversation. A careful observer would perceive that, despite their cowed and woe-begone appearance, they have some common purpose in view. They each of them carry a quarter staff,--not a formidable weapon, it is true; but no formidable weapon would be permitted them. At one end of those staves they have deftly inserted stout steel goads, which no casual observer would detect. I was first attracted to this group, in particular, by having observed them obey certain signals given by their leader. But my eyes turned on all occasions naturally and sympathetically to the Saxon portion of the crowd; and the result of my diligent scrutiny of this little band was quickened by my discovery of the fact that the leader was none other than Badger. Presently they divide themselves into couples and take their stand equidistant from each other, along with the spectators who line the enclosure. Soon, by dint of pushing and wriggling, they force their way close to the railings' side.

Now, at a signal the trumpet again sounds, and a marshal rides into the centre of the arena, and reads the proclamation and rules of the tourney. Just at that moment, however, a piercing blast from a horn in the distance makes the greenwood ring again. Immediately from the leafy bower there emerges a knight tall of stature, and mail-clad from head to foot. On his shield he bears a device of the rising sun on a field vert, and as the rays of the midday sun smite upon his helmet and breast-plate, the refulgence thereof is as of molten gold. He rode a handsome charger, whose trappings and housings were richly embroidered and resplendent with many strange devices. In close attendance rode his squire, bearing his lance and shield; he also was of brawny and athletic build, like his master. He had on a helmet with harness of link mail.

His face and hands, which were uncovered, seemed deeply tanned, as though they had been subjected to long exposure in some sunny clime.

Behind the knight and his esquire there rode a couple of men-at-arms, bronzed and brown as the squire.

It was soon buzzed about amidst the crowd that this was the foreign knight for whose advent the tourney had been delayed a full hour. The knight and his squire were admitted into the enclosure at once; but the couple of men-at-arms stood without. There was a brief consultation with the stewards in the Norman tongue, and the explanations were evidently satisfactory, for the knight rode on. And as he pa.s.sed the dais, where sat the Queen of Beauty, he dipped the point of his lance and bowed low.

The crimson flood mounted to Alice's face and neck, as she, with great nervousness, acknowledged the salute. This momentary flush, followed by, if possible, a still deeper pallor and greater agitation, did not escape the notice of our Abbot, who turned keen and scrutinising glances, first on the knight, and then on Alice. He was suspicions as usual. Could it be possible that there was some love entanglement between these two which boded evil to his brother the Baron? Hitherto, none had appeared in the lists, saving knights who would probably be easily overthrown by Vigneau. Though this was but a joust of courtesy, yet the ignominy of being unhorsed, he knew, would exasperate his brother into desperation.

This knight of commanding stature, and of warlike appearance and renown, introduced an element of grave uncertainty into the day's contest. There was, further, the gravest suspicion that this stranger knight was imported on purpose to frustrate his brother's union with Alice, a union which, he knew, was cordially detested by both father and daughter. The Baron also, suspicious by disposition, with lowering brow glared upon the stranger from behind his visor, and hated him at sight.

Not that he feared being overthrown, for his self-confidence was unlimited. His great weight and personal strength and skill had borne him to victory in many a famous joust in times past, and he was contemptuous of any rival he might chance to meet. But a knight young, handsome, and well-appointed as this stranger, might yet, with De Montfort's connivance, wrest the prize from his grasp. He swore a deep oath under his breath, and grasped his lance with a keener clutch.

Clearly he meant mischief.

The preliminaries being now over, the knights wheeled into line and faced each other, ready for the signal to charge, their squires being in close attendance behind. Vigneau and the stranger knight found themselves opposed by antagonists much smaller in stature, and indifferently horsed. The trumpeter stood at the head of the lists, bugle in hand, ready to sound the onset at a signal from De Montfort.

Excitement was visibly expressed in every countenance, the clamour of voices having given place to a hushed suspense, which was painful and sickening to Alice; though she saw that Vigneau and the "Knight of the Sun" would not antagonise each other in the first shock. Now the trumpet sends forth a shrill blast, and on the instant spurs are driven into each charger's side, and, with a snort of pain, they dash across the sward. There is a loud shock, and a confused and struggling ma.s.s of men and horses. Vigneau had thrown the whole weight and strength of himself and a powerful horse upon a feeble opponent, and both man and horse rolled over together before him. Then, with a contemptuous oath, he wheeled again to his place, utterly regardless of his fallen antagonist, whose horse had kicked him severely in its plunges to regain its feet.

The "Knight of the Sun," on the other hand, rode steadily at his opponent, and seemed rather to push him over the horse's croup than to strike him with unmeasured force. Immediately, also, he sprang to the ground and chivalrously a.s.sisted the fallen knight to rise, exclaiming, as he did so,--

"None the worse, I trust, Sir Knight?"

"Only my pride hurt a little," was the reply; "but it was gallantly done and by a worthier knight, so I yield my steed and wish you further success; which you will have, I trow, whether I wish it or not, or I am no judge of your mettle."

"Take your horse, Sir Knight, I have no need of him, for there is a better in the lists, I perceive," said the stranger.

"You have my hearty wishes in the winning of it, if they will do you any good. Just a word in your ear, nevertheless," said he, drawing close to the "Knight of the Sun," and uttering in an undertone, whilst he professed to be adjusting his sword-belt, "You are a stranger, Sir Knight, but I have known Vigneau a round dozen years at least, so let me warn you. Beware your man, and doubly so if you throw him. His ugly carcase is charged with venom from head to foot, and no treacherous villainy will be too mean, in order to compa.s.s his revenge."

"Thanks for your good wishes, and I will not neglect your advice; but if he be wise, he will look to himself or he will rue it."

At the blast of the bugle, the knights who had proved victorious wheeled into line again; one pair had failed to unhorse each other; but evidently they were not consumed with a desire to try further their prowess in the mimic war, for both of them retired from the fray. So there were but four knights called upon to take part in the next encounter and brave again the fortunes of war. The stranger knight was now brought side by side with Vigneau, who surveyed him from head to foot, then turned sneeringly away, growling to himself, "If length of limb counted for anything, why, then, he would be formidable enough."

At the signal calling for the _ready_, each lance was laid in rest, and each knight braced himself afresh. Springing again at the call to the charge, the turf flew from the horses' hoofs, and the shock, in more than one instance, was enough to throw the horses on their haunches. The "Knight of the Sun" and Vigneau were again victorious; but the latter had met a doughtier opponent than he had bargained for, for he had received a vigorous and well-aimed blow at the pit of his stomach, discomposing most unpleasantly its contents, and causing his head to swim with sickly qualms. He recovered his balance quickly, however, much more quickly than he recovered from the fury of his temper; for, as he faced about to meet the "Knight of the Sun," he poured out a volley of fierce oaths at Pierre, who was too slow in his attentions to him. The tall squire of the stranger dismounted and ran his eyes over the trappings of his master's steed, tightening a girth here and there, and whispering to his master as he did so, "He is strong and heavy; it were better policy to dodge his blow, I think, for he is unmistakably clumsy and slow."

"That is the very thing I have been turning over in my mind, and I think I will try it. Hand me a shorter lance, will you?"

The squire immediately reached him a lance shorter by some feet; and the bugle sounded again for the ready amid breathless silence. The whole scene floated dimly before the sickened gaze of Alice, who was but half conscious of what was pa.s.sing in the lists; though she realised with painful vividness that Vigneau and the stranger were now opposed to each other. Jeannette put her arm around her mistress and held a small silver flask of rich scents to her nose, whispering gently to her,--

"Courage, lady! all goes well, never fear. The stranger will be the victor."

Now the combatants brace themselves for the final charge and for victory. The "Knight of the Sun" grasps his short lance with sinews of iron, whilst his gaze is intent upon the weapon of his antagonist. The signal is given, and the chargers bound like an avalanche across the intervening s.p.a.ce. There is a quick swerve of the stranger's body, and Vigneau's lance pa.s.ses like a flash over the mailed arm of the knight, a clear miss. Righting himself as deftly as he had swerved, and without permitting the point of his lance to deviate one iota from its mark, he closed in a deadly shock with the bulky Norman. The lance he held was so short that they seemed almost to rush into each other's arms; but the point was direct for his antagonist's chest. Vigneau, with an oath at the failure of his stroke, let go his lance, and aimed a blow with his clenched fist at his antagonist; but his act of blind fury was utterly futile and vain; with unerring aim the stranger struck him full on his steel breast-plate. There was a loud crash of tearing girths, and Vigneau rolled ignominiously to the ground amid a motley heap of horses, harness, and trappings.

Alice's head dropped on Jeannette's shoulder as she faintly asked, "Who's victor, Jeannette?"

"The stranger, lady; courage, courage! Vigneau is ignominiously overthrown."

"Thank G.o.d!" she e.j.a.c.u.l.a.t.ed feebly, and her eyes closed in insensibility.

All eyes were now turned with a strange fascination towards the two antagonists, for Vigneau sprang to his feet, drew his broadsword, and brandishing it in the air like a demon, shouted "_Joute a l'outrance!_ Come on, varlet! it is to the death!"

The Abbot rushed into the arena, vainly endeavouring to restrain the blind fury of his brother; but with an oath the Baron threw him off, and rushed at his antagonist, who by this time had dismounted and stood on his guard. Fiercely exasperated, Vigneau rained blow upon blow, with the fury of a madman, whilst the stranger contented himself with coolly parrying or receiving on his shield the frantic blows of his a.s.sailant.

The volcano-like rage of Vigneau quickly expended itself uselessly; soon limp, and spent, and utterly blown, he aimed a last blow with greatly diminished force. The stranger received it on his shield, whilst with concentrated energy he sprang upon Vigneau; his broadsword divided the air like lightning, and descended on the nape of Vigneau's neck, cutting clean through his armour, and well-nigh severing his head from his body.

Vigneau threw up his arms wildly in the air as he dropped into his brother's arms, and shrieked frantically in his death agony, "_The Saxon! 'Tis the Saxon!_"