XV. HOW THE RED FERRET CAME TO COSFORD
The old chronicler in his "Gestes du Sieur Nigel" has bewailed his
broken narrative, which rose from the fact that out of thirty-one
years of warfare no less than seven were spent by his hero at one
time or another in the recovery from his wounds or from those
illnesses which arose from privation and fatigue. Here at the
very threshold of his career, on the eve of a great enterprise,
this very fate befell him.
Stretched upon a couch in a low-roofed and ill-furnished chamber,
which looks down from under the machicolated corner turret upon
the inner court of the Castle of Calais, he lay half-unconscious
and impotent, while great deeds were doing under his window.
Wounded in three places, and with his head splintered by the sharp
pommel of the Ferret's mace, he hovered betwixt life and death,
his shattered body drawing him downward, his youthful spirit
plucking him up.
As in some strange dream he was aware of that deed of arms within
the courtyard below. Dimly it came back to his memory afterwards
the sudden startled shout, the crash of metal, the slamming of
great gates, the roar of many voices, the clang, clang, clang, as
of fifty lusty smiths upon their anvils, and then at last the
dwindling of the hubbub, the low groans and sudden shrill cries to
the saints, the measured murmur of many voices, the heavy clanking
of armored feet.
Sometime in that fell struggle he must have drawn his weakened
body as far as the narrow window, and hanging to the iron bars
have looked down on the wild scene beneath him. In the red glare
of torches held from windows and from roof he saw the rush and
swirl of men below, the ruddy light shining back from glowing
brass and gleaming steel. As a wild vision it came to him
afterward, the beauty and the splendor, the flying lambrequins,
the jeweled crests, the blazonry and richness of surcoat and of
shield, where sable and gules, argent and vair, in every pattern
of saltire, bend or chevron, glowed beneath him like a drift of
many-colored blossoms, tossing, sinking, stooping into shadow,
springing into light. There glared the blood-red gules of
Chandos, and he saw the tall figure of his master, a thunderbolt
of war, raging in the van. There too were the three black
chevrons on the golden shield which marked the noble Manny. That
strong swordsman must surely be the royal Edward himself, since
only he and the black-armored swift-footed youth at his side were
marked by no symbol of heraldry. "Manny! Manny! George for
England!" rose the deep-throated bay, and ever the gallant
counter-cry: "A Chargny! A Chargny! Saint Denis for France!"
thundered amid the clash and thudding of the battle.
Such was the vague whirling memory still lingering in Nigel's mind
when at last the mists cleared away from it and he found himself
weak but clear on the low couch in the corner turret. Beside him,
crushing lavender betwixt his rough fingers and strewing it over
floor and sheets, was Aylward the archer. His longbow leaned at
the foot of the bed, and his steel cap was balanced on the top of
it, while he himself, sitting in his shirt sleeves, fanned off the
flies and scattered the fragrant herbs over his helpless master.
"By my hilt!" he cried with a sudden shout, every tooth in his
head gleaming with joy, "I thank the Virgin and all the saints for
this blessed sight! I had not dared to go back to Tilford had I
lost you. Three weeks have you lain there and babbled like a
babe, but now I see in your eyes that you are your own man again."
"I have indeed had some small hurt," said Nigel feebly; "but it is
shame and sorrow that I should lie here if there is work for my
hands. Whither go you, archer? "
"To tell the good Sir John that you are mending."
"Nay, bide with me a little longer, Aylward. I can call to mind
all that has passed. There was a bickering of small boats, was
there not, and I chanced upon a most worthy person and exchanged
handstrokes with him? He was my prisoner, was he not?"
"He was, fair sir."
"And where is he now?"
"Below in the castle."
A smile stole over Nigel's pale face. "I know what I will do with
him," said he.
"I pray you to rest, fair sir," said Aylward anxiously. "The
King's own leech saw you this morning, and he said that if the
bandage was torn from your head you would surely die."
"Nay, good archer, I will not move. But tell me what befell upon
the boat?"
"There is little to tell, fair sir. Had this Ferret not been his
own squire and taken so long a time to don his harness it is
likely that they would have had the better of us. He did not
reach the battle till his comrades were on their backs. Him we
took to the Marie Rose, because he was your man. The others were
of no worth, so we threw them into the sea."
"The quick and the dead?"
"Every man of them."
"It was an evil deed."
Aylward shrugged his shoulders. "I tried to save one boy," said
he; "but Cock Badding would not have it, and he had Black Simon
and the others at his back. `It is the custom of the Narrow
Seas,' said they: `Today for them; to-morrow for us.' - Then they
tore him from his hold and cast him screaming over the side. By
my hilt! I have no love for the sea and its customs, so I care
not if I never set foot on it again when it has once borne me back
to England."
"Nay, there are great happenings upon the sea, and many worthy
people to be found upon ships," said Nigel. "In all parts, if one
goes far enough upon the water, one would find those whom it would
be joy to meet. If one crosses over the Narrow Sea, as we have
done, we come on the French who are so needful to us; for how else
would we win worship? Or if you go south, then in time one may
hope to come to the land of the unbelievers, where there is fine
skirmishing and much honor for him who will venture his person.
Bethink you, archer, how fair a life it must be when one can ride
forth in search of advancement with some hope of finding many
debonair cavaliers upon the same quest, and then if one be
overborne one has died for the faith, and the gates of Heaven are
open before you. So also the sea to the north is a help to him
who seeks honor, for it leads to the country of the Eastlanders
and to those parts where the heathen still dwell who turn their
faces from the blessed Gospel. There also a man might find some
small deeds to do, and by Saint Paul! Aylward, if the French hold
the truce and the good Sir John permits us, I would fain go down
into those parts. The sea is a good friend to the cavalier, for
it takes him where he may fulfil his vows."
Aylward shook his head, for his memories were too recent; but he
said nothing, because at this instant the door opened and Chandos
entered. With joy in his face he stepped forward to the couch and
took Nigel's hand in his. Then he whispered a word in Aylward's
ear, who hurried from the room.
"Pardieu! this is a good sight," said the knight. "I trust that
you will soon be on your feet again."
"I crave your pardon, my honored lord, that I have been absent
from your side," said Nigel.
"In truth my heart was sore for you, Nigel; for you have missed
such a night as comes seldom in any man's life. All went even as
we had planned. The postern gate was opened, and a party made
their way in; but we awaited them, and all were taken or slain.
But the greater part of the French had remained without upon the
plain of Nieullet, so we took horse and went out against them.
When we drew near them they were surprised, but they made good
cheer among themselves, calling out to each other: `If we fly we
lose all. It is better to fight on, in the hopes that the day may
be ours.' This was heard by our people in the van, who cried out
to them: `By Saint George! you speak truth. Evil befall him who
thinks of flying!' So they held their ground like worthy people
for the space of an hour, and there were many there whom it is
always good to meet: Sir Geoffrey himself, and Sir Pepin de Werre,
with Sir John de Landas, old Ballieul of the Yellow Tooth, and his
brother Hector the Leopard. But above all Sir Eustace de
Ribeaumont was at great pains to meet us worthily, and he was at
handstrokes with the King for a long time. Then, when we had
slain or taken them, all the prisoners were brought to a feast
which was ready for them, and the knights of England waited upon
them at the table and made good cheer with them. And all this,
Nigel, we owe to you."
The Squire flushed with pleasure at the words. "Nay, most honored
lord, it was but a small thing which I have been able to do. But
I thank God and our Lady that I have done some service, since it
has pleased you to take me with you to the wars. Should it chance
- "
But the words were cut short upon Nigel's lips, and he lay back
with amazed eyes staring from his pallid face. The door of his
little chamber had opened, and who was this, the tall stately man
with the noble presence, the high forehead, the long handsome
face, the dark, brooding eyes - who but the noble Edward of
England?"
"Ha, my little cock of Tilford Bridge, I still bear you in mind,"
said he. "Right glad I was to hear that you had found your wits
again, and I trust that I have not helped to make you take leave
of them once more."
Nigel's stare of astonishment had brought a smile to the King's
lips. Now the Squire stammered forth some halting words of
gratitude at the honor done to him.
"Nay, not a word," said the King. "But in sooth it is a joy to
my heart to see the son of my old comrade Eustace Loring carry
himself so bravely. Had this boat got before us with news of our
coming, then all our labor had been in vain, and no Frenchman
ventured to Calais that night. But above all I thank you for that
you have delivered into my hands one whom I had vowed to punish in
that he has caused us more scathe by fouler means than any living
man. Twice have I sworn that Peter the Red Ferret shall hang, for
all his noble blood and coat-armor, if ever he should fall into my
hands. Now at last his time has come; but I would not put him to
death until you, who had taken him, could be there to see it done.
Nay, thank me not, for I could do no less, seeing that it is to
you that I owe him."
But it was not thanks which Nigel was trying to utter. It was
hard to frame his words, and yet they must be said. "Sire," he
murmured, "it ill becomes me to cross your royal will - "
The dark Plantagenet wrath gathered upon the King's high brow and
gloomed in his fierce deep-set eyes. "By God's dignity! no man
has ever crossed it yet and lived unscathed. How now, young sir,
what mean such words, to which we are little wont? Have a care,
for this is no light thing which you venture."
"Sire," said Nigel, "in all matters in which I am a free man I am
ever your faithful liege, but some things there are which may not
be done."
"How?" cried the King. "In spite of my will?"
"In spite of your will, sire," said Nigel, sitting up on his
couch, with white face and blazing eyes.
"By the Virgin!" the angry King thundered, "we are come to a
pretty pass! You have been held too long at home, young man. The
overstabled horse will kick. The unweathered hawk will fly at
check. See to it, Master Chandos! He is thine to break, and I
hold you to it that you break him. And what is it that Edward of
England may not do, Master Loring?"
Nigel faced the King with a face as grim as his own. "You may not
put to death the Red Ferret."
"Pardieu! And why?"
"Because he is not thine to slay, sire. Because he is mine.
Because I promised him his life, and it is not for you, King
though you be, to constrain a man of gentle blood to break his
plighted word and lose his honor."
Chandos laid his soothing hand upon his Squire's shoulder.
"Excuse him, sire; he is weak from his wounds," said he. "Perhaps
we have stayed overlong, for the leech has ordered repose."
But the angry King was not easily to be appeased. "I am not wont
to be so browbeat," said he hotly. "This is your Squire, Master
John. How comes it that you can stand there and listen to his
pert talk, and say no word to chide him? Is this how you guide
your household? Have you not taught him that every promise given
is subject to the King's consent, and that with him only lie the
springs of life and death? If he is sick, you at least are hale.
Why stand you there in silence?"
"My liege," said Chandos gravely, "I have served you for over a
score of years, and have shed my blood through as many wounds in
your cause, so that you should not take my words amiss. But
indeed I should feel myself to be no true man if I did not tell
you that my Squire Nigel, though perchance he has spoken more
bluntly than becomes him, is none the less right in this matter,
and that you are wrong. For bethink you, sire - "
"Enough!" cried the King, more furious than ever. "Like master,
like man, and I might have known why it is that this saucy Squire
dares to bandy words with his sovereign lord. He does but give
out what he hath taken in. John, John, you grow overbold. But
this I tell you, and you also, young man, that as God is my help,
ere the sun has set this night the Red Ferret will hang as a
warning to all spies and traitors from the highest tower of
Calais, that every ship upon the Narrow Seas, and every man for
ten miles round may see him as he swings and know how heavy is the
hand of the English King. Do you bear it in mind, lest you also
may feel its weight!" With a glare like an angry lion he walked
from the room, and the iron-clamped door clanged loudly behind
him.
Chandos and Nigel looked ruefully at each other. Then the knight
patted his Squire upon his bandaged head.
"You have carried yourself right well, Nigel. I could not wish
for better. Fear not. All will be well."
"My fair and honored lord," cried Nigel, "I am heavy at heart, for
indeed I could do no other, and yet I have brought trouble upon
you."
"Nay, the clouds will soon pass. If he does indeed slay this
Frenchman, you have done all that lay within your power, and your
mind may rest easy."
"I pray that it will rest easy in Paradise," said Nigel; "for at
the hour that I hear that I am dishonored and my prisoner slain I
tear this bandage from my head and so end all things. I will not
live when once my word is broken."
"Nay, fair son, you take this thing too heavily," said Chandos,
with a grave face. "When a man has done all he may there remains
no dishonor; but the King hath a kind heart for all his hot head,
and it may be that if I see him I will prevail upon him. Bethink
you how he swore to hang the six burghers of this very town, and
yet he pardoned them. So keep a high heart, fair son, and I will
come with good news ere evening."
For three hours, as the sinking sun traced the shadow higher and
ever higher upon the chamber wall, Nigel tossed feverishly upon
his couch, his ears straining for the footfall of Aylward or of
Chandos, bringing news of the fate of the prisoner. At last the
door flew open, and there before him stood the one man whom he
least expected, and yet would most gladly have seen. It was the
Red Ferret himself, free and joyous.
With swift furtive steps he was across the room and on his knees
beside the couch, kissing the pendent hand. "You have saved me,
most noble sir!" he cried. "The gallows was fixed and the rope
slung, when the good Lord Chandos told the King that you would die
by your own hand if I were slain. `Curse this mule-headed
Squire!' he cried. `In God's name let him have his prisoner, and
let him do what he will with him so long as he troubles me no
more!' So here I have come, fair sir, to ask you what I shall
do."
"I pray you to sit beside me and be at your ease," said Nigel.
"In a few words I will tell you what I would have you do. Your
armor I will keep, that I may have some remembrance of my good
fortune in meeting so valiant a gentleman. We are of a size, and
I make little doubt that I can wear it. Of ransom I would ask a
thousand crowns."
"Nay, nay!" cried the Ferret. "It would be a sad thing if a man
of my position was worth less than five thousand."
"A thousand will suffice, fair sir, to pay my charges for the war.
You will not again play the spy, nor do us harm until the truce is
broken."
"That I will swear."
"And lastly there is a journey that you shall make."
The Frenchman's face lengthened. "Where you order I must go,"
said he; "but I pray you that it is not to the Holy Land."
"Nay," said Nigel; "but it is to a land which is holy to me. You
will make your way back to Southampton."
"I know it well. I helped to burn it down some years ago."
"I rede you to say nothing of that matter when you get there. You
will then journey as though to London until you come to a fair
town named Guildford."
"I have heard of it. The King hath a hunt there."
"The same. You will then ask for a house named Cosford, two
leagues from the town on the side of a long hill."
"I will bear it in mind."
"At Cosford you will see a good knight named Sir John Buttesthorn,
and you will ask to have speech with his daughter, the Lady Mary."
"I will do so; and what shall I say to the Lady Mary, who lives at
Cosford on the slope of a long hill two leagues from the fair town
of Guildford?"
"Say only that I sent my greeting, and that Saint Catharine has
been my friend - only that and nothing more. And now leave me, I
pray you, for my head is weary and I would fain have sleep."
Thus it came about that a month later on the eve of the Feast of
Saint Matthew, the Lady Mary, as she walked front Cosford gates,
met with a strange horseman, richly clad, a serving-man behind
him, looking shrewdly about him with quick blue eyes, which
twinkled from a red and freckled face. At sight of her he doffed
his hat and reined his horse.
"This house should be Cosford," said he. "Are you by chance the
Lady Mary who dwells there?"
The lady bowed her proud dark head.
"Then," said he, "Squire Nigel Loring sends you greeting and tells
you that Saint Catharine has been his friend." Then turning to
his servant he cried: "Heh, Raoul, our task is done! Your master
is a free man once more. Come, lad, come, the nearest port to
France! Hola! Hola! Hola!" And so without a word more the two,
master and man, set spurs to their horses and galloped like madmen
down the long slope of Hindhead, until as she looked after them
they were but two dark dots in the distance, waist-high in the
ling and the bracken.
She turned back to the house, a smile upon her face. Nigel had
sent her greeting. A Frenchman had brought it. His bringing it
had made him a freeman. And Saint Catherine had been Nigel's
friend. It was at her shrine that he had sworn that three deeds
should be done ere he should set eyes upon her again. In the
privacy of her room the Lady Mary sank upon her prie-dieu and
poured forth the thanks of her heart to the Virgin that one deed
was accomplished; but even as she did so her joy was overcast by
the thought of those two others which lay before him.
