The Last of the Vikings Part 34

The cry acted like magic upon the whole mult.i.tude. Men sprang into the arena shouting madly to each other they knew not what. Horses reared and snorted, and plunged in dire confusion. The ruse also so consummately planned by Badger, in case of any hitch or exposure, was vigorously acted out. On the instant he and his comrades leaped into the arena, and deftly dodged in and out amongst the horses, and vigorously applied their goads to their flanks and sides, increasing the disorder and confusion a hundredfold.

Meantime, whilst the vengeful and sanguinary combat between the champions had been going on, the stranger's squire had seized the reins of Vigneau's charger as the spoil of the victor; but Pierre sprang at him in fierce resistance, and immediately the two squires also became engaged in a pa.s.sage of arms as fiercely and as determinedly as their masters. Promptly Badger gave Wulfhere a vigorous push, which separated the pair. Then in a low tone, but unmistakably in earnest, he said, "Zounds, man! what are you doing? and where are your eyes? Can you not see there is not a moment to lose? Do you not see the Norman has detected your master? Fly, man, quick! or you're a dead man, and Oswald also."

Wulfhere, thus suddenly awakened to the peril of the situation, promptly took Badger's advice and vaulted into his saddle. But his blood was up, and as he did so, he turned to Pierre, and said,--

"I'll take care we meet again, villain, never fear. Then we will see whether aught will save thee from the fate which has befallen thy master, and which has been d.o.g.g.i.ng thy heels this many a day."

Oswald, the stranger knight, also by this time fully comprehended the peril of the situation, and that if they would save their lives flight was their only resource. So promptly he sprang into the saddle, and immediately made for the gate, followed by Wulfhere. The two men-at-arms without the arena had been watching the movements of Oswald and Wulfhere with feverish anxiety, irresolute whether to rush in to effect a rescue or not. But no sooner did they see them make for the entrance than they pushed their horses amid the spectators, and vigorously plying the flats of their swords upon the shoulders of the churls who thronged and choked the way, they quickly cleared a pa.s.sage; whilst Badger and his party continued to maintain a state of dire confusion in the enclosure. As soon as the entrance was pa.s.sed the safety of the Saxons was a.s.sured, and at once falling into the rear of their leader, they dashed across the plain, and were lost in the woods ere any one comprehended for certain what strange things had happened.

Then the Abbot Vigneau strode up to De Montfort, the veins of his neck standing out with rage and his face livid with pa.s.sion, and he hoa.r.s.ely shouted,--

"I arraign thee traitor to thy king! and I will have thy head for this treacherous act! I tell thee if thou hast successfully conspired to murder my brother, I myself hold the letters thou wouldest give thy right hand to possess! I will use them to the full, nor rest till thou hast atoned with thy blood for thy treachery!"

Meantime, the scene which followed baffled description. The a.s.sembled company could not comprehend the charges made by Vigneau, and were bewildered at the tragic ending of what was designed for a day's festivities.

The condition of Alice was pitiable in the extreme. With returning consciousness she had seen the fiendish att.i.tude of the Abbot as he fronted her father. She had heard the wild threats of vengeance, and a dim sense of uttermost calamity, hanging over her and her father, sent her back again into a swoon. I roused Jeannette and her companion from the state of helplessness into which they seemed to have relapsed, and, under my directions, Alice was carried to her room and laid upon her couch, whilst such restoratives as were at hand were applied to stimulate the laggard consciousness, which seemed as though it would never return.

CHAPTER x.x.xVIII.

THE SAXON'S REVENGE.

"E'en these, when of their ill-got spoils possess'd, Find sure tormentors in the guilty breast."

Homer.

The same night, following the tragic ending of the tournament, and about two hours after Curfew had rung out its warning to churls, housecarles, and Saxons, all and sundry, who should be caught abroad after the bell had voiced the hour, there were seated in the Abbot's room two individuals engaged in a most earnest conversation. The look of deadly malignity on their countenances, and the low, fierce oaths with which they frequently emphasised their speech, was palpable evidence that they plotted mischief. Though one of them had partially divested himself of his attire, there was that about his dress which betokened that it was strangely out of keeping with the language he was using, and the business he was engaged in. The other was dressed in soldier's attire, and in the st.u.r.dy figure we easily recognise Pierre, confidante and willing tool of Baron Vigneau, and the sharer in most of his villainous exploits. The Abbot's room was s.p.a.cious and lofty, and he had had it hung with costly silken hangings, and rich Turkish carpets covered the floor. The furniture also was of carved oak, delicate in workmanship, and of priceless value; for many handicraftsmen of great skill and experience came over with the Normans, or followed in the wake of the soldiery. On an exquisitely carved cabinet had been hastily thrust the remains of a substantial repast of boiled capon and venison cutlets; whilst on the table between them were two silver tankards containing good Rhenish wine, and from which libations, copious and frequent, were poured down two throats which it seemed impossible to effectually slake.

Several letters on parchment, with the ma.s.sive seal of De Montfort impressed upon them, were lying on the table betwixt them, the contents of which had been duly read over to Pierre by the Abbot; and the following conversation was proceeding:--

"No doubt," said the Abbot, "the whole thing was arranged by the cunning old fox De Montfort and his daughter. The make-believe of a foreign cousin was a ruse to prevent the exposure of the Saxon villain. His advent, also, was so timed that not the slightest opportunity was given to any one to see through his disguise; and he spoke the Norman language well."

"Well, I have often wondered at De Montfort's leniency to those Saxon wolves on the hills. He professed to send for help to William when he was at York last; but there has been no help forthcoming," said Pierre.

"I don't believe he ever sent such message; but the devil himself is not more cunning than De Montfort, and, unless we act promptly, he'll circ.u.mvent _us_."

"Well, what's the business? Are you going to make use of those letters, and have him brought to book promptly?"

"That is it. What I wish, is that you, Pierre, should take this matter in hand; for it must be done by some one with sufficient courage and determination. I should like you to proceed forthwith to the court of his Majesty William, and lay before him these d.a.m.ning proofs of De Montfort's treachery. If you will undertake this, I confidently antic.i.p.ate that within three months the traitor's head will be suspended over the gates of his castle. That done, I shall urge my suit for the possession of his forfeited lands, with well-a.s.sured success. Then, trust me, I will humble the pride of his haughty and scornful daughter.

She shall know promptly, for I will teach her, that though Vigneau is dead, Vigneau still lives. I love her, and I hate her, and when she is in my power I will have my fill of both love and hate, mark me! I will have quits for all I owe her, for she has not only compa.s.sed the death of my brother, but she has thwarted me here constantly, by taking under her protection that old hypocrite Adhelm (meaning myself). I'll be revenged on both of them at a blow, mark me, Pierre!"

"Humph! This sounds well and good, your Reverence, no doubt, from your standpoint; but, if you will excuse me, I didn't see very clearly at what point Pierre came in when these good things were to be distributed.

Now, it appears that I shall figure very prominently in the work of scotching this snake. So, so! well and good, revenge may be very sweet to you, and maybe it will be sweet to me; I'll not deny I like the flavour of it, but, after that, what additional? I shall want either the skin or the carcase, certainly, if I shoot the deer; if not, why, marry, I'll never bruise my shins in the chase. So, will you please point out where this thing is to be profitable to me? Devil's work, you know, should be well paid, for we must scorch for it by-and-bye, must we not, eh?"

"Thou shalt have everything I am able to bestow, Pierre; and thou shalt find that in my exalted position my powers of promotion will be equal to thy deserts. How sayest thou? wilt thou try the monk's calling? Nothing easier! I was a soldier ere I donned the _hair shirt_, eh! and took to mortifying the flesh, as thou well knowest I have done most rigidly at all times."

"Marry, 'tis quite true, the devil himself would vouch for it; and a merry jest it is. And now, after your Reverence's example, there's no saying, but we may expect the devil himself to turn monk some day; and, in faith, by copying your Reverence closely, he'd make more sinners in't, than he would by his old tricks;" and Pierre laughed most immoderately.

"Thou hadst ever a sharp tongue, Pierre, and little regard for thy betters; but I absolve thee. Nevertheless, I advise _thee_ to the _holy_ calling also. Then what could hinder me bestowing upon thee my Abbot's office? The best of all things would be at thy command--ease, wine, wenches, and a jolly fat trencher at all times. I warrant thee there is no life so merry and so bountiful as the command of a good fat monastery."

"Bravo!" shouted Pierre, who was immensely tickled by the Abbot's suggestion; and, bursting again into a roar of laughter, he cried, "well, this is too rich for anything! Pierre turned _Saint_; ha, ha, ha!

'Twould be after the most G.o.dly example of your Grace, I trow. Ha, ha!

good! I'll wash it down, anyhow;" and he raised the tankard to his lips, and cried, "Drink to't, your Reverence. Here's to _Saint Pierre of pious memory_;" and promptly he drained the tankard to the bottom; then, bringing it down again with a bang upon the table, he fairly roared with laughter.

"Thou art an a.s.s, Pierre! An arrant a.s.s!" said the Abbot, who was considerably nettled at the freedom with which Pierre made a jest of him and his office. "Canst thou not see that after the Baron's death De Montfort will soon be quit of us if we cannot checkmate him? To jest under the gallows, and end it by swinging on them, is fool's work."

"Well, well, I'll turn the matter over carefully, I think," said Pierre a little more soberly. "Your Grace has done it, and I think there is something in it. I don't know how the sneaking method of doing things, after the dare-devil manner familiar to me, will suit my stomach. I have always liked the chase better than the game, and I confess I would rather fight it through, come what may.

"But," said he, bursting into a loud guffaw, as the ludicrousness of his turning monk thrust itself upon him, and relapsing again into the jocularity and bitter sarcastic tone familiar to him,--

"Now that _you_ recommend it so strongly, I think I will retire from _active duties_, and grow fat and wheezy like yourself. Anyhow, it stands to reason, the bigger the paunch the more good sack wine it will hold, and that is an item. True, too, a lazy life and a lascivious appet.i.te are bound to go together. Less force to labour, and more to lechery; that's the sum of it. I think I come to't, your Reverence.

Beshrew me! what would any man have? for if he l.u.s.t l.u.s.tily, and be a jolly trencherman to boot, with his fill provided to him, what can he wish for more? My hand on it, your Reverence! I'll undertake the venture. It is a mad hazard, but I like it none the worse for that!"

"Then when wilt thou start on thine errand, Pierre? Time is precious.

The Count knows I have possession of those letters, and, mark me, he will circ.u.mvent us if he can."

"Line my pocket with gold pieces and I'll start at c.o.c.k crowing, and De Montfort may catch me if he can, when once I get the start of him."

Slowly at that instant the door opened behind them, and Oswald, Wulfhere and a couple of attendants, armed to the teeth, entered, and closed the door behind them, whilst one stout yeoman set his back against it. The countenance of Vigneau fell on the instant as though a sword had pierced him, and he became livid as death. Hastily clutching at the letters lying on the table, he endeavoured to thrust them into a recess of the cabinet, and he fairly cowered in abject terror before these strange visitants. On the contrary, Pierre whipped out his broadsword, and fiercely stood at bay; his savage valour being in striking contrast to the crouching cowardice of the Abbot.

"Give place, master," said Wulfhere, advancing on Pierre; "this fellow is mine. You have already had your revenge. Now, blood-thirsty villain,"

said he, addressing Pierre, "I told thee, did I not, that the time would come when thou shouldest answer to me for thy cruelties and murders? the time has come now; and thou canst no longer shirk the fate that has long awaited thee."

"Did I ever shirk meeting thee, or any churlish Saxon in Britain? Give me fair play, and I'll give thee a speedy pa.s.sage to the devil, sirrah!"

said Pierre savagely, striding towards Wulfhere.

So the two stood upon their guard. The Abbot shrinking in mortal terror in one corner, whilst Oswald and his followers looked on in anxious suspense; for they knew well the strength and brutal valour of Pierre, who was ever foremost in any fray, and equally an adept at either stroke or thrust. Wulfhere also was second to none amongst the Saxon outlaws in skill and strength, or personal bravery. Toe to toe for a moment they stood eyeing each other with lips set, and mortal enmity in their eyes.

Then stroke and thrust and parry followed each other in rapid succession. The rapid advancing or retiring, as each one gave or received a stroke, by these powerful gladiators, wrought the spectators to such a pitch of excitement that they held their breath almost to suffocation. But the climax came in a totally unexpected manner.

Wulfhere drove at his antagonist a powerful sweep of his sword, but Pierre effectually interposed his sword and parried the blow. Such was the force of the blow, however, that the treacherous weapon flew in two, the point striking the opposite side of the room, and the hilt, with half the broken blade, remaining in Wulfhere's hand. Ere Oswald could interpose between them, Pierre shouted,--

"Aha! Now I have you!" and rushed in with a furious lunge at Wulfhere's body.

The words were true enough, but not in the sense in which Pierre had uttered them; for with lightning-like agility Wulfhere sprang aside, and the glittering weapon slid harmlessly into the empty air beyond him. So confident, however, had Pierre been of the helplessness of his opponent, and so confident of the deadliness of his thrust, that he took no precaution whatever of his own body. The eager rush also of his own onslaught, coupled with the force with which Wulfhere drove the broken blade at him, caused it to pa.s.s clean through his body, and, with a groan and a half-uttered oath, he fell forward on his face, dead.

The Abbot, as he witnessed the close of the tragic scene, literally crawled to the feet of Oswald, begging piteously for mercy. One of the men-at-arms who accompanied Oswald, advanced upon him, and said,--

"Leave him to me, master. Now, dastardly fiend!" said he, addressing the Abbot, "there has come a reckoning day even for you. You remember the little cot out yonder befouled by your infamous presence. You know the boy murdered by you in cold blood, and waiting to be avenged until this hour. The time has come at last."

"Have mercy upon me," moaned the Abbot, "and I will recompense you liberally. Take this gold chain," said he, removing a ma.s.sive gold chain from his neck, "it is very valuable, and I will give thee more."

"If you think a gold chain will recompense me for my dead child, base hound, you are greatly mistaken. His blood cries for vengeance, and I will exact it now."

As he spoke he raised his sword, and at a blow he severed the Abbot's head from his body.

"This is most ghastly work," said Oswald, "and to be done within the sacred precincts of this edifice it is most deplorable. But surely iniquities such as these men have constantly and unblushingly perpetrated call for most drastic remedies. Men, gather up these bodies, and bury them deep in the woods before the dawn."