CHAPTER XVIII
THE PLAGUE PIT
Seven long days had gone by and still Hugh and Grey Dick held out in
their Tower fortress. Though as yet unhurt, they were weary indeed,
since they must watch all night and could only sleep by snatches in
the daytime, one lying down to rest while the other kept guard.
As they had foreseen, except by direct assault, the place proved
impregnable, its moat protecting it upon three sides and the sheer
wall of the old city terminating in the deep fosse upon the fourth. In
its little armoury, among other weapons they had found a great store
of arrows and some good bows, whereof Hugh took the best and longest.
Thus armed with these they placed themselves behind the loopholes of
the embattled gateway, whence they could sweep the space before them.
Or if danger threatened them elsewhere, there were embrasures whence
they could command the bases of the walls. Lastly, also, there was the
central tower, whereof they could hold each landing with the sword.
Thrice they had been attacked, since there seemed to be hundreds of
folk in Avignon bent upon their destruction, but each time their
bitter arrows, that rarely seemed to miss, had repulsed the foe with
loss. Even when an onslaught was delivered on the main gateway at
night, they had beaten their assailants by letting fall upon them
through the /machicoulis/ or overhanging apertures, great stones that
had been piled up there, perhaps generations before, when the place
was built.
Still the attacks did not slacken. Indeed the hate of the citizens of
Avignon against these two bold Englishmen, whose courage and resource
they attributed to help given to them by the powers of evil, seemed to
grow from day to day, even as the plague grew in the streets of that
sore-afflicted city. From their walls they could see friars preaching
a kind of crusade against them. They pointed toward the tower with
crucifixes, invoking their hearers to pull it stone from stone and
slay the wizards within, the wizards who had conspired with the
accursed Jews even beneath the eyes of his Holiness the Pope, to bring
doom on Avignon.
The eighth morn broke at length, and its first red rays discovered
Hugh and Dick kneeling side by side behind the battlements of the
gateway. Each of them was making petition to heaven in his own fashion
for forgiveness of his sins, since they were outworn and believed that
this day would be their last.
"What did you pray for, Dick?" asked Hugh, glancing at his companion's
fierce face, which in that half light looked deathlike and unearthly.
"What did I pray for? Well, for the first part let it be; that's
betwixt me and whatever Power sent me out to do its business on the
earth. But for the last--I'll tell you. It was that we may go hence
with such a guard of dead French as never yet escorted two Englishmen
from Avignon to heaven--or hell. Ay, and we will, master, for to-day,
as they shouted to us, they'll storm this tower; but if our strength
holds out there's many a one who'll never win its crest."
"Rather would I have died peacefully, Dick. Yet the blood of these
hounds will not weigh upon my soul, seeing that they seek to murder us
for no fault except that we saved a woman and two children from their
cruel devilries. Oh! could I but know that Red Eve and Sir Andrew were
safe away, I'd die a happy man."
"I think we shall know that and much more before to-morrow's dawn,
master, or never know anything again. Look! they gather yonder. Now
let us eat, for perhaps later we shall find no time."
The afternoon drew on toward evening and still these two lived. Of all
the hundreds of missiles which were shot or hurled at them, although a
few struck, not one of them had pierced their armour so as to do them
hurt. The walls and battlements or some good Fate had protected them.
Thrice had the French come on, and thrice they had retreated before
those arrows that could not miss, and as yet bridge and doors were
safe.
"Look," said Dick as he set down a cup of wine that he had drained,
for his thirst was raging, "they send an embassy," and he pointed to a
priest, the same mad-eyed fellow who preached in the square when the
notary Basil led them into a trap, and to a man with him who bore a
white cloth upon a lance. "Shall I shoot them?"
"Nay," answered Hugh; "why kill crazed folk who think that they serve
God in their own fashion? We will hear what they have to say."
Presently the pair stood within speaking distance, and the priest
called out:
"Hearken, you wizards. So far your master the devil has protected you,
but now your hour has come. We have authority from those who rule this
city and from the Church to summon you to surrender, and if you will
not, then to slay you both."
"That, you shameless friar," answered Hugh, "you have been striving to
do these many days. Yet it is not we who have been slain, although we
stand but two men against a multitude. But if we surrender, what
then?"
"Then you shall be put upon your trial, wizards, and, if found guilty,
burned; if innocent, set free."
"Put upon our trial before our executioners! Why, I think those fires
are alight already. Nay, nay, mad priest, go back and tell those whom
you have fooled that if they want us they can come and take us, which
they'll not do living."
Then the furious friar began to curse them, hurling at them the
anathemas of the Church, till at length Dick called to him to begone
or he would send an arrow to help him on the road.
So they went, and presently the sun sank.
"Now let us beware," said Dick. "The moon is near her full and will
rise soon. They'll attack between times when we cannot see to shoot."
"Ay," answered Hugh, "moreover, now this gateway is no place for us.
Of arrows there are few left, nor could we see to use them in the
dark. The stones too are all spent and therefore they can bridge the
moat and batter down the doors unharmed."
"What then?" asked Dick. "As we cannot fly, where shall we die?"
"On the roof of the old tower, I think, whence we can hurl ourselves
at last and so perhaps escape being taken alive, and torment. Look
you, Dick, that tower is mounted by three straight flights of steps.
The first two of these we'll hold with such arrows as remain to us--
there are three and twenty, as I think--and the last with axe and
sword. Listen! They come! Take a brand from the hall hearth and let us
go light the flambeaux."
So they went and set fire to the great torches of wood and tallow that
were set in their iron holders to light the steps of the tower. Ere
the last of them was burning they heard their enemies ravening
without.
"Listen!" said Hugh as they descended to the head of the first flight
of stairs. "They are across the moat."
As he spoke the massive doors crashed in beneath the blows of a baulk
of timber.
"Now," said Hugh, as they strung their bows, "six arrows apiece here,
if we can get off so many, and the odd eleven at our next stand. Ah,
they come."
The mob rushed into the hall below, waving torches and swords and
hunting it as dogs hunt a covert.
"The English wizards have hid themselves away," cried a voice. "Let us
burn the place, for so we are sure to catch them."
"Nay, nay," answered another voice, that of the mad friar. "We must
have them beneath the torture, that we may learn how to lift the curse
from Avignon, and the names of their accomplices on earth and in hell.
Search, search, search!"
"Little need to search," said Grey Dick, stepping out on to the
landing. "Devil, go join your fellow-devils in that hell you talk of,"
and he sent an arrow through his heart.
For a moment there followed the silence of consternation while the mob
stood staring at their fallen leader. Then with a yell of rage they
charged the stair and that fray began which was told of in Avignon for
generations. Hugh and Dick shot their arrows, nor could they miss,
seeing what was their target; indeed some of those from the great
black bow pinned foe to foe beneath them. But so crowded were the
assailants on the narrow stair that they could not shoot back. They
advanced helpless, thrust to their doom by the weight of those who
pressed behind.
Now they were near, the dead, still on their feet, being borne forward
by the living, to whom they served as shields. Hugh and Dick ran to
the head of the second flight and thence shot off the arrows that
remained.
Dick loosed the last of them, and of this fearful shaft it was said
that it slew three men, piercing through the body of one, the throat
of the second and burying its barb in the skull of the third on the
lowest step. Now Dick unstrung his bow, and thrust it into its case on
his shoulder, for he was minded that they should go together at the
last.
"Shafts have sung their song," he said, with a fierce laugh; "now it
is the turn of the axe and sword to make another music."
Then he gripped Sir Hugh by the hand, saying:
"Farewell, master. Oh, I hold this a merry death, such as the Saints
grant to few. Ay, and so would you were you as free as I am. Well,
doubtless your lady has gone before. Or at worst soon she will follow
after and greet you in the Gate of Death, where Murgh sits and keeps
his count of passing souls."
"Farewell, friend," answered Hugh, "be she quick or dead, thus Red Eve
would wish that I should die. /A Cressi! A Cressi!/" he cried and
drove his sword through the throat of a soldier who rushed at him.
They fought a very good fight, as doubtless the dead were telling each
other while they passed from that red stair to such rest as they had
won. They had fought a very good fight and it was hard to say which
had done the best, Hugh's white sword or Dick's grey axe. And now,
unwounded still save for a bruise or two, they stood there in the
moonlight upon the stark edge of the tall tower, the foe in front and
black space beneath. There they stood leaning on axe and sword and
drawing their breath in great sobs, those two great harvestmen who
that day had toiled so hard in the rich fields of death.
For a while the ever-gathering crowd of their assailants remained
still staring at them. Then the leaders began to whisper to each
other, for they scarcely seemed to dare to talk aloud.
"What shall we do?" asked one. "These are not men. No men could have
fought as they have fought us for seven days and at last have slain us
like sparrows in a net and themselves remained unhurt."
"No," answered another, "and no mortal archer could send his shaft
through the bodies of three. Still it is finished now unless they find
wings and fly away. So let us take them."
"Yes, yes," broke in Grey Dick with his hissing laugh, "come and take
us, you curs of Avignon. Having our breath again, we are ready to be
taken," and he lifted his axe and shook it.
"Seize them," shouted the leader of the French. "Seize them!" echoed
those who poured up the stairs behind.
But there the matter ended, since none could find stomach to face that
axe and sword. So at length they took another counsel.
"Bring bows and shoot them through the legs. Thus we shall bring them
living to their trial," commanded the captain of the men of Avignon.
He was their fourth captain on that one day, for the other three lay
upon the stairs or in the hall.
Now Hugh and Dick spoke together, few words and swift, as to whether
they should charge or leap from the wall and have done with it. While
they spoke a little cloud floated over the face of the moon, so that
until it had gone the French could not see to shoot.
"It's too risky," said Hugh. "If they capture us we must die a death
to which I have no mind. Let us hurl our weapons at them, then leap."
"So be it," whispered Dick. "Do you aim at the captain on the left and
I will take the other. Ready now! I think one creeps near to us."
"I think so, too," Hugh whispered back, "I felt the touch of his
garments. Only he seemed to pass us from behind, which cannot be."
The cloud passed, and once again they were bathed in silver light. It
showed the men of Avignon already bending their bows; it showed Hugh
and Grey Dick lifting axe and sword to hurl them. But between them and
their mark it showed also a figure that they knew well, a stern and
terrible figure, wearing a strange cap of red and yellow and a cape of
rich, black fur.
"O God of Heaven! 'tis Murgh the Helper," gasped Hugh.
"Ay, Murgh the Fire, Murgh the Sword," said Dick, adding quietly, "it
is true I was wondering whether he would prove as good as his word.
Look now, look! they see him also!"
See him they did, indeed, and for a moment there was silence on that
crowded tower top where stood at least a score of men, while their
fellows packed the hall and stair below by hundreds. All stared at
Murgh, and Murgh stared back at them with his cold eyes. Then a voice
screamed:
"Satan! Satan come from hell to guard his own! Death himself is with
you! Fly, men of Avignon, fly!"
Small need was there for this command. Already, casting down their
bows, those on the tower top were rushing to the mouth of the stair,
and, since it was blocked with men, using their swords upon them to
hew a road. Now those below, thinking that it was the English wizards
who slew them, struck back.
Presently all that stair and the crowded hall below, black as the
mouth of the pit, for such lights as still burned soon were swept
away, rang with the screams and curses and stifled groans of the
trodden down or dying. In the pitchy darkness brother smote brother,
friend trampled out the life of friend, till the steep steps were
piled high and the doorways blocked with dead. So hideous were the
sounds indeed, that Hugh and Grey Dick crossed themselves, thinking
that hell had come to Avignon, or Avignon sunk down to hell. But Murgh
only folded his white-gloved hands upon his breast and smiled.
At length, save for the moaning of those hurt men who still lived, the
dreadful tumult sank to silence. Then Murgh turned and spoke in his
slow and icy voice:
"You were about to seek me in the fosse of this high tower, were you
not, Hugh de Cressi and Richard Archer? A foolish thought, in truth,
and a sinful, so sinful that it would have served you well if I had
let you come. But your strait was sore and your faith was weak, and I
had no such command. Therefore I have come to others whose names were
written in my book. Ay, and being half human after all--for does not
your creed tell you that I was born of Sin? I rejoice that it is given
to me to protect those who would have protected /me/ when /I/ seemed
to stand helpless in the hands of cruel men. Nay, thank me not. What
need have I of your thanks, which are due to God alone! And question
me not, for why should I answer your questions, even if I know those
answers? Only do my bidding. This night seek whom you will in Avignon,
but to-morrow ere the dawn ride away, for we three must meet again at
a place appointed before this winter's snows are passed."
"O dread lord of Death, one thing, only one," began Hugh.
But Murgh held up his white-gloved hand and replied:
"Have I not said that I answer no questions? Now go forth and follow
the promptings of your heart till we meet again."
Then gliding to the head of the stair he vanished in the shadow.
"Say, what shall we do?" asked Hugh in amazed voice.
"It matters little what we do or leave undone, master, seeing that we
are fore-fated men whom, as I think, none can harm until a day that
will not dawn to-morrow nor yet awhile. Therefore let us wash
ourselves and eat and borrow new garments, if we can find any that are
not soiled, and then, if the horses are still unharmed, mount and ride
from this accursed Avignon for England."
"Nay, Dick, since first we must learn whether or no we leave friends
behind us here."
"Ay, master, if you will. But since yonder Murgh said nothing of them,
it was in my mind that they are either dead or fled."
"Not dead, I pray, Dick. Oh, I am sure, not dead, and I left living!
When Red Eve and I met, Murgh had been with her and promised that she
would recover and be strong," answered Hugh bravely, although there
was a note of terror in his voice.
"Red Eve has other foes in Avignon besides the pest," muttered Grey
Dick, adding: "still, let us have faith; it is a good friend to man.
Did not yonder Helper chide us for our lack of it?"
They forced a way down the dead-cumbered tower stair, crawling through
the darkness over the bodies of the fallen. They crossed the hall that
also was full of dead, and of wounded whose pitiful groans echoed from
the vaulted roof, and climbed another stair to their chamber in the
gateway tower. Here from a spark of fire that still smouldered on the
hearth, they lit the lamps of olive-oil and by the light of them
washed off the stains of battle, and refreshed themselves with food
and wine. These things done, Dick returned to the hall and presently
brought thence two suits of armour and some cloaks which he had taken
either from the walls or from off the slain. In these they disguised
themselves as best they could, as de Noyon had disguised himself at
Crecy.
Then, having collected a store of arrows whereof many lay about, they
departed by the back entrance. The great front doorway was so choked
with corpses that they could not pass it, since here had raged the
last fearful struggle to escape. Going to the little stable-yard,
where they found their horses unharmed in the stalls, although
frightened by the tumult and stiff from lack of exercise, they fed and
saddled them and led them out. So presently they looked their last
upon the Bride's Tower that had sheltered them so well.
"It has served our turn," said Hugh, glancing back at it from the
other side of the deserted square, "but oh, I pray heaven that we may
never see that charnel-house again!"
As he spoke a figure appeared from the shadow of a doorway, and ran
toward them. Thinking it was that of some foe, Dick lifted his axe to
cut him down, whereon a voice cried in English:
"Hold! I am David!"
"David!" exclaimed Hugh. "Then thanks be to God, for know, we thought
you dead these many days."
"Ay, sir," answered the young man, "as I thought you. The rumour
reached the Jews, among whom I have been hiding while I recovered of
my hurts, that the Mad Monk and his fellows had stormed the tower and
killed you both. Therefore I crept out to learn for myself. Now I have
found you by your voices, who never again hoped to look upon you
living," and he began to sob in his relief and joy.
"Come on, lad," said Grey Dick kindly, "this is no place for
greetings."
"Whither go you, sir?" asked David as he walked forward alongside of
the horses.
"To seek that house where we saw Sir Andrew Arnold and the lady Eve,"
answered Hugh, "if by any chance it can be found."
"That is easy, sir," said David. "As it happens, I passed it not much
more than an hour ago and knew it again."
"Did you see any one there?" asked Hugh eagerly.
"Nay, the windows were dark. Also the Jew guiding me said he had heard
that all who dwelt in that house were dead of the plague. Still of
this matter he knew nothing for certain."
Hugh groaned, but only answered:
"Forward!"
As they went David told them his story. It seemed that when he was
struck down in the square where the crazy friar preached, and like to
be stabbed and trampled to death, some of the Jews dragged him into
the shadow and rescued him. Afterward they took him to a horrid and
squalid quarter called La Juiverie, into which no Christian dare
enter. Here he lay sick of his hurts and unable to get out until that
very afternoon; the widow Rebecca, whom they had saved, nursing him
all the while.
"Did you hear aught of us?" asked Dick.
"Ay, at first that you were holding Dead Bride's Tower bravely. So as
soon as I might, I came to join you there if I could win in and you
still lived. But they told me that you had fallen at last."
"Ah!" said Dick, "well, as it chances it was not we who fell, but that
tale is long. Still, David, you are a brave lad who would have come to
die with us, and my master will thank you when he can give his mind to
such things. Say, did you hear aught else?"
"Ay, Dick; I heard two days ago that the French lord, Cattrina, whom
Sir Hugh was to have fought at Venice, had left Avignon, none knew why
or whither he went."
"Doubtless because of the plague and he wished to go where there was
none," answered Dick.
But Hugh groaned again, thinking to himself that Acour would scarcely
have left Avignon if Eve were still alive within its walls.
After this they went on in silence, meeting very few and speaking with
none, for the part of the great city through which they passed seemed
to be almost deserted. Indeed in this quarter the pest was so fearful
that all who remained alive and could do so had fled elsewhere,
leaving behind them only the sick and those who plundered houses.
"One thing I forgot to say," said David presently. "The Jews told me
that they had certain information that the notary knave Basil was paid
by the lord Cattrina to lead us to that square where the fires burned
in order that we might be murdered there. Further, our death was to be
the signal for the massacre of all the Jews, only, as it chanced,
their plan went awry."
"As will Basil's neck if ever I meet him again," muttered Grey Dick
beneath his breath. "Lord! what fools we were to trust that man. Well,
we've paid the price and, please God, so shall he."
They turned the corner and rode down another street, till presently
David said:
"Halt! yonder is the house. See the cognizance above the gateway!"
Hugh and Dick leapt from their horses, the latter bidding David lead
them into the courtyard and hold them there. Then they entered the
house, of which the door was ajar, and by the shine of the moon that
struggled through the window-places, crept up the stairs and passages
till they reached those rooms where Sir Andrew and Eve had lodged.
"Hist!" said Dick, and he pointed to a line of light that showed
beneath the closed door.
Hugh pushed it gently and it opened a little. They looked through the
crack, and within saw a man in a dark robe who was seated at a table
counting out gold by the light of a lamp. Just then he lifted his
head, having felt the draught of air from the open door. It was the
notary Basil!
Without a word they entered the room, closing and bolting the door
behind them. Then Dick leapt on Basil as a wolf leaps, and held him
fat, while Hugh ran past him and threw wide the door of that chamber
in which Eve had lain sick. It was empty. Back he came again and in a
terrible voice, said:
"Now, Sir Notary, where are the lady Eve and Sir Andrew her guardian?"
"Alas, Sir Knight," began the knave in a quavering voice, "both of
them are dead."
"What!" cried Hugh supporting himself against the wall, for at this
terrible news his knees trembled beneath him, "have you or your patron
Cattrina murdered them?"
"Murdered them, Sir Knight! I do murder? I, a Christian and a man of
peace! Never! And the noble lord of Cattrina, Count de Noyon! Why, he
wished to marry the lady, not to murder her. indeed he swore that she
was his wife."
"So you know all these things, do you, villain?" said Grey Dick,
shaking him as a terrier shakes a rat.
"Sir Knight," went on the frightened fellow, "blame me not for the
acts of God. He slew these noble persons, not I; I myself saw the
lovely lady carried from this house wrapped in a red cloak."
"So you were in the house, were you?" said Grey Dick, shaking him
again. "Well, whither did they carry her, thief of the night?"
"To the plague pit, good sir; where else in these times?"
Now Hugh groaned aloud, his eyes closed, and he seemed as though he
were about to fall. Grey Dick, noting it, for a moment let go of the
notary and turned as though to help his master. Like a flash Basil
drew a dagger from under his dirty robe and struck at Dick's back. The
blow was well aimed, nor could an unprotected man on whom it fell have
escaped death. But although Basil did not see it because of Dick's
long cloak, beneath this cloak he wore the best of mail, and on that
mail the slender dagger broke, its point falling harmless to the
ground. Next instant Dick had him again in his iron grip. Paying no
further heed to Hugh, who had sunk to the floor a huddled heap, he
began to speak into the lawyer's ear in his slow, hissing voice.
"Devil," he said, "whether or no you murdered Red Eve and Sir Andrew
Arnold the saint, I cannot say for certain, though doubtless I shall
learn in time. At least a while ago you who had taken our money,
strove to murder both of us, or cause us to be torn in pieces upon
yonder square where the fires burned. Now, too, you have striven to
murder me with that bodkin of yours, not knowing, fool, that I am safe
from all men. Well, say your prayers, since you too journey to the
plague pit, for so the gatherers of the dead will think you died."
"Sir," gasped the terrified wretch, "spare me and I will speak----"
"More lies," hissed Dick into his ear. "Nay, go tell them to the
father of lies, for I have no time to waste in hearkening to them.
Take your pay, traitor!"
A few seconds later Basil lay dead upon the floor.
Grey Dick looked at him. Kneeling down, he thrust his hands into the
man's pockets, and took thence the gold that he had been hiding away
when they came upon him, no small sum as it chanced.
"Our own come back with interest," he said with one of his silent
laughs, "and we shall need monies for our faring. Why, here's a
writing also which may tell those who can read it something."
He cast it on the table, then turned to his master, who was awakening
from his swoon.
Dick helped him to his feet.
"What has passed?" asked Hugh in a hollow voice.
"Murgh!" answered Dick, pointing to the dead man on the floor.
"Have you killed him, friend?"
"Ay, sure enough, as he strove to kill me," and again he pointed, this
time to the broken dagger.
Hugh made no answer, only seeing the writing on the table, took it up,
and began to read like one who knows not what he does. Presently his
eyes brightened and he said:
"What does this mean, I wonder. Hearken."
"Rogue, you have cheated me as you cheat all men and now I follow
her who has gone. Be sure, however, that you shall reap your
reward in due season.
"de Noyon."
"I know not," said Dick, "and the interpreter is silent," and he
kicked the body of Basil. "Perhaps I was a little over hasty who might
have squeezed the truth out of him before the end."
"'Her who is gone,'" reflected Hugh aloud. "'Tis Red Eve who is gone
and de Noyon is scarcely the man to seek her among passed souls.
Moreover, the Jews swear that he rode from Avignon two days ago. Come,
Dick, let that carrion lie, and to the plague pit."
An hour later and they stood on the edge of that dreadful place,
hearing and seeing things which are best left untold. A priest came up
to them, one of those good men who, caring nothing for themselves,
still dared to celebrate the last rites of the Church above the poor
departed.
"Friends," he said, "you seem to be in trouble. Can I help you, for
Jesus' sake?"
"Perchance, holy Father," answered Hugh. "Tell us, you who watch this
dreadful place, was a woman wrapped in a red cloak thrown in here two
or three days gone?"
"Alas, yes," said the priest with a sigh, "for I read the Office over
her and others. Nay, what are you about to do? By now she is two
fathoms deep and burned away with lime so that none could know her. If
you enter there the guards will not let you thence living. Moreover,
it is useless. Pray to God to comfort you, poor man, as I will, who am
sure it will not be denied."
Then Dick led, or rather carried, Hugh from the brink of that awesome,
common grave.
