CHAPTER VIII
As Norman of Torn rode out from the castle of De Stutevill, Father Claude
dismounted from his sleek donkey within the ballium of Torn. The austere
stronghold, notwithstanding its repellent exterior and unsavory reputation,
always extended a warm welcome to the kindly, genial priest; not alone
because of the deep friendship which the master of Torn felt for the good
father, but through the personal charm, and lovableness of the holy man's
nature, which shone alike on saint and sinner.
It was doubtless due to his unremitting labors with the youthful Norman,
during the period that the boy's character was most amenable to strong
impressions, that the policy of the mighty outlaw was in many respects pure
and lofty. It was this same influence, though, which won for Father Claude
his only enemy in Torn; the little, grim, gray, old man whose sole aim in
life seemed to have been to smother every finer instinct of chivalry and
manhood in the boy, to whose training he had devoted the past nineteen
years of his life.
As Father Claude climbed down from his donkey -- fat people do not
"dismount" -- a half dozen young squires ran forward to assist him, and to
lead the animal to the stables.
The good priest called each of his willing helpers by name, asking a
question here, passing a merry joke there with the ease and familiarity
that bespoke mutual affection and old acquaintance.
As he passed in through the great gate, the men-at-arms threw him laughing,
though respectful, welcomes and within the great court, beautified with
smooth lawn, beds of gorgeous plants, fountains, statues and small shrubs
and bushes, he came upon the giant, Red Shandy, now the principal
lieutenant of Norman of Torn.
"Good morrow, Saint Claude !" cried the burly ruffian. "Hast come to save
our souls, or damn us ? What manner of sacrilege have we committed now, or
have we merited the blessings of Holy Church ? Dost come to scold, or
praise ?"
"Neither, thou unregenerate villain," cried the priest, laughing. "Though
methinks ye merit chiding for the grievous poor courtesy with which thou
didst treat the great Bishop of Norwich the past week."
"Tut, tut, Father," replied Red Shandy. "We did but aid him to adhere more
closely to the injunctions and precepts of Him whose servant and disciple
he claims to be. Were it not better for an Archbishop of His Church to
walk in humility and poverty among His people, than to be ever surrounded
with the temptations of fine clothing, jewels and much gold, to say nothing
of two sumpter beasts heavy laden with runlets of wine ?"
"I warrant his temptations were less by at least as many runlets of wine as
may be borne by two sumpter beasts when thou, red robber, had finished with
him," exclaimed Father Claude.
"Yes, Father," laughed the great fellow, "for the sake of Holy Church, I
did indeed confiscate that temptation completely, and if you must needs
have proof in order to absolve me from my sins, come with me now and you
shall sample the excellent discrimination which the Bishop of Norwich
displays in the selection of his temptations."
"They tell me you left the great man quite destitute of finery, Red
Shandy, " continued Father Claude, as he locked his arm in that of the
outlaw and proceeded toward the castle.
"One garment was all that Norman of Torn would permit him, and as the sun
was hot overhead, he selected for the Bishop a bassinet for that single
article of apparel, to protect his tonsured pate from the rays of old sol.
Then, fearing that it might be stolen from him by some vandals of the road,
he had One Eye Kanty rivet it at each side of the gorget so that it could
not be removed by other than a smithy, and thus, strapped face to tail upon
a donkey, he sent the great Bishop of Norwich rattling down the dusty road
with his head, at least, protected from the idle gaze of whomsoever he
might chance to meet. Forty stripes he gave to each of the Bishop's
retinue for being abroad in bad company; but come, here we are where you
shall have the wine as proof of my tale."
As the two sat sipping the Bishop's good Canary, the little old man of Torn
entered. He spoke to Father Claude in a surly tone, asking him if he knew
aught of the whereabouts of Norman of Torn.
"We have seen nothing of him since, some three days gone, he rode out in
the direction of your cottage," he concluded.
"Why, yes," said the priest, "I saw him that day. He had an adventure with
several knights from the castle of Peter of Colfax, from whom he rescued a
damsel whom I suspect from the trappings of her palfrey to be of the house
of Montfort. Together they rode north, but thy son did not say whither or
for what purpose. His only remark, as he donned his armor, while the girl
waited without, was that I should now behold the falcon guarding the dove.
Hast he not returned ?"
"No," said the old man, "and doubtless his adventure is of a nature in line
with thy puerile and effeminate teachings. Had he followed my training,
without thy accurst priestly interference, he had made an iron-barred nest
in Torn for many of the doves of thy damned English nobility. An' thou
leave him not alone, he will soon be seeking service in the household of
the King."
"Where, perchance, he might be more at home than here," said the priest
quietly.
"Why say you that ?" snapped the little old man, eyeing Father Claude
narrowly.
"Oh," laughed the priest, "because he whose power and mien be even more
kingly than the King's would rightly grace the royal palace," but he had
not failed to note the perturbation his remark had caused, nor did his
off-hand reply entirely deceive the old man.
At this juncture, a squire entered to say that Shandy's presence was
required at the gates, and that worthy, with a sorrowing and regretful
glance at the unemptied flagon, left the room.
For a few moments, the two men sat in meditative silence, which was
presently broken by the old man of Torn.
"Priest," he said, "thy ways with my son are, as you know, not to my
liking. It were needless that he should have wasted so much precious time
from swordplay to learn the useless art of letters. Of what benefit may a
knowledge of Latin be to one whose doom looms large before him. It may be
years and again it may be but months, but as sure as there be a devil in
hell, Norman of Torn will swing from a king's gibbet. And thou knowst it,
and he too, as well as I. The things which thou hast taught him be above
his station, and the hopes and ambitions they inspire will but make his end
the bitterer for him. Of late I have noted that he rides upon the highway
with less enthusiasm than was his wont, but he has gone too far ever to go
back now; nor is there where to go back to. What has he ever been other
than outcast and outlaw ? What hopes could you have engendered in his
breast greater than to be hated and feared among his blood enemies ?"
"I knowst not thy reasons, old man," replied the priest, "for devoting thy
life to the ruining of his, and what I guess at be such as I dare not
voice; but let us understand each other once and for all. For all thou
dost and hast done to blight and curse the nobleness of his nature, I have
done and shall continue to do all in my power to controvert. As thou hast
been his bad angel, so shall I try to be his good angel, and when all is
said and done and Norman of Torn swings from the King's gibbet, as I only
too well fear he must, there will be more to mourn his loss than there be
to curse him.
"His friends are from the ranks of the lowly, but so too were the friends
and followers of our Dear Lord Jesus; so that shall be more greatly to his
honor than had he preyed upon the already unfortunate.
"Women have never been his prey; that also will be spoken of to his honor
when he is gone, and that he has been cruel to men will be forgotten in the
greater glory of his mercy to the weak.
"Whatever be thy object: whether revenge or the natural bent of a cruel and
degraded mind, I know not; but if any be curst because of the Outlaw of
Torn, it will be thou -- I had almost said, unnatural father; but I do not
believe a single drop of thy debased blood flows in the veins of him thou
callest son."
The grim old man of Torn had sat motionless throughout this indictment, his
face, somewhat pale, was drawn into lines of malevolent hatred and rage,
but he permitted Father Claude to finish without interruption.
"Thou hast made thyself and thy opinions quite clear," he said bitterly,
"but I be glad to know just how thou standeth. In the past there has been
peace between us, though no love; now let us both understand that it be war
and hate. My life work is cut out for me. Others, like thyself, have
stood in my path, yet today I am here, but where are they ? Dost
understand me, priest ?" And the old man leaned far across the table so
that his eyes, burning with an insane fire of venom, blazed but a few
inches from those of the priest.
Father Claude returned the look with calm level gaze.
"I understand," he said, and, rising, left the castle.
Shortly after he had reached his cottage, a loud knock sounded at the door,
which immediately swung open without waiting the formality of permission.
Father Claude looked up to see the tall figure of Norman of Torn, and his
face lighted with a pleased smile of welcome.
"Greetings, my son," said the priest.
"And to thee, Father," replied the outlaw, "And what may be the news of
Torn. I have been absent for several days. Is all well at the castle ?"
"All be well at the castle," replied Father Claude, "if by that you mean
have none been captured or hanged for their murders. Ah, my boy, why wilt
thou not give up this wicked life of thine ? It has never been my way to
scold or chide thee, yet always hath my heart ached for each crime laid at
the door of Norman of Torn."
"Come, come, Father," replied the outlaw, "what dost I that I have not good
example for from the barons, and the King, and Holy Church. Murder, theft,
rapine ! Passeth a day over England which sees not one or all perpetrated
in the name of some of these ?
"Be it wicked for Norman of Torn to prey upon the wolf, yet righteous for
the wolf to tear the sheep ? Methinks not. Only do I collect from those
who have more than they need, from my natural enemies; while they prey upon
those who have naught.
"Yet," and his manner suddenly changed, "I do not love it, Father. That
thou know. I would that there might be some way out of it, but there is
none.
"If I told you why I wished it, you would be surprised indeed, nor can I
myself understand; but, of a verity, my greatest wish to be out of this
life is due to the fact that I crave the association of those very enemies
I have been taught to hate. But it is too late, Father, there can be but
one end and that the lower end of a hempen rope."
"No, my son, there is another way, an honorable way," replied the good
Father. "In some foreign clime there be opportunities abundant for such as
thee. France offers a magnificent future to such a soldier as Norman of
Torn. In the court of Louis, you would take your place among the highest
of the land. You be rich and brave and handsome. Nay do not raise your
hand. You be all these and more, for you have learning far beyond the
majority of nobles, and you have a good heart and a true chivalry of
character. With such wondrous gifts, naught could bar your way to the
highest pinnacles of power and glory, while here you have no future beyond
the halter. Canst thou hesitate, Norman of Torn ?"
The young man stood silent for a moment, then he drew his hand across his
eyes as though to brush away a vision.
"There be a reason, Father, why I must remain in England for a time at
least, though the picture you put is indeed wondrous alluring."
And the reason was Bertrade de Montfort.
