CHAPTER XIV
OUR LADY IN EGYPT
THE air quivered above all surfaces; light and heat spoke withintensity. But those who had been long years in Syria were used to agreater intensity. They travelled now, not minding heat and glare. Theyrode through a little village that Garin remembered, and at the fartherend passed a house with mulberry trees. Children played in their shade.“Ha!” said Garin of the Golden Island. “Time’s wheel goes round, andthe fountain casts new spray!”
Rainier the squire knew this country-side. A certain castle was placedconveniently for dinner-time, and to this they drew from the high road.Where you did not war, there obtained, in the world of chivalry, aboundless hospitality. The lord who held this castle made all welcome.A great bell rang; here was dinner in the hall.
From the castle tower one saw afar, beyond the boundaries of Toulouse.The baron could give information. Duke Richard had spared Jaufre deMontmaure two thousand spears and ten thousand men-at-arms, archers,and crossbowmen. Montmaure, himself, had a great force. Roche-de-Frênefought strongly, but the land suffered. Stories were told of the waysof Montmaure. Garin made enquiry as to the Abbey of Saint Pamphilius,not far to the northward. “Saint Pamphilius? Safe as though it heldby God the Father’s beard! Years ago it chose Montmaure for advocate.Aye! Abbot Arnaut lives.” But the lord of the castle could not tell ofRaimbaut the Six-fingered, if he held with Montmaure, or, passing him,clave to Roche-de-Frêne.
The castle would have had them bide the night, and the Crusaderdiscourse of the Holy Land. But Garin must on. His imagination wasseized; what lay before him drew him imperiously, like a loadstone.He bade the lord and lady of the castle farewell, mounted his horse,Noureddin, and with his men behind him took the road. The earth laydrowned in light, the air seemed hardly a strip of gauze between itand the sun. They must ride somewhat slowly through the afternoon. Atlast the heat and dazzle of the day declined. Straight before themlay the Abbey of Saint Pamphilius, and that were good harbourage forthe night, but not for any who meant to enter battle upon the side ofRoche-de-Frêne! The night would be dry, warm and bright. The men hadfood with them, in leathern pouches. Forest lay to the right of theroad.
Garin spoke to his squires: “It is to my fancy to sleep in this woodto-night. Once I did sleep here, but without esquires and men-at-armsand war-horse.”
It chanced that the moon was almost full. Garin watched it mountbetween the branches of the trees, and the past rose with it to suffusethe present. He could recall the moods of that night, but they seemedto him now frail and boyish.... Dawn broke; his men rose from wherethey lay like brown acorns. Nearby, the stream that ran through thewood widened into a pool. Knight, squires, and men-at-arms laid asideclothing, plunged into the cool element, had joy of it. Afterwards,they breakfasted sparely. When the sun lighted the hill-tops they wereagain upon the road.
The road now trended eastward. They came to a chapel that was a ruin.Beside it, scooped from the hillside and shaded by an oak, appeared ahermit’s cell. At first they thought that it was empty, but at length agrey figure, lean and trembling as a reed, peeped forth.
“Who broke down the chapel, father?” asked Garin.
The hermit stared at him. “Fair son and sir knight, are you from theToulouse side?”
“We have ridden two days from the westward. This is the boundary?”
The hermit looked with lack-lustre eyes, then wagged his head upand down. “Aye, fair knight and son! The lords of Toulouse andRoche-de-Frêne built the chapel, each bearing half the cost. But a bandbelonging to the Lord of Montmaure came this way. Its captain said thathe pulled down only Roche-de-Frêne’s half—but all fell! The HolyFather at Rome ought to hear of it!”
“Are Montmaure’s men still at hand?”
The hermit shook his head. “They harrowed the country and went. I sawflames all one night and heard the cries of the damned!”
Garin and those behind him rode on. Immediately the way that once hadbeen good became bad. A bridge had spanned a swift stream, but thebridge was destroyed. A mill had stood near, but the mill was burned.There seemed no folk. They rode by trampled and blackened fields whereno harvest sickles would come this year. The poppies looked like blood.Here, in a dip in the land, was what had been a village, and upon a lowhill a heap of stones that had been castle or armed manor-house. Therewere yet fearful odours. They rode by a tree on which were hanged tenmen, and a place where women and children, all crouched together, hadbeen slain. Here were more blackened fields, splashed with poppies. Thesun, now riding high, sent into every corner a searching light.
Garin and his men, leaving the ruin, rode through a great forest. Theyrode cautiously, keeping a lookout, neither singing nor laughing nortalking loudly. But the forest slept on either hand, and there wasnothing heard but the hoofs of their horses, the song of birds, and thewhirr of insects.
This forest had been known to Garin the squire. He was going nowtoward Raimbaut’s keep. Around were the wide-branching trees, thebirds flew before them, the startled hare ran, the deer plunged asideinto the deeper brakes, but they met with no human life. Travellingso, they came to a broken country, wooded hills, grey falls ofcliff, streams that brawled over stony beds. Garin looked from sideto side, recognizing ancient landmarks. But when they rode out fromthe dwindling wood upon fields that should have shone and shimmered,yellowing to the harvest—these fields, too, were black with ruin. Herewas a meadow that Garin knew. But no cattle stood within it, seekingthe shade of the trees, and nowhere, field or meadow or narrow road,were there people. All lay silent, without motion, under the giantstrength of the sun.
The road passed under the brow of a hill, turned, and he saw where hadbeen the grim old keep and tower and wall where he had served Raimbautthe Six-fingered. In its shadow had clustered peasants’ huts. All wasdestroyed; he saw not a living man, not a beast, not a dog. “How like,”said Garin of the Golden Island, “are Paynimry and Christendom!”
He checked his men, and alone rode to the ruins. Dismounting, he letNoureddin crop the parched grass while he himself entered through abreach in the wall, the gateway being blocked by fallen masonry. Allwas desolate under the sun. The well had been filled with stones.Climbing a mass of débris, crushed wall and fallen beam and rafter, heattained the interior of the keep. Here had been sword and fire; herenow were the charred bones, here the writing that said how had foughtRaimbaut the Six-fingered!
Garin came out of the keep and crossed the court, and, stepping throughthe ragged and monstrous opening in the wall, called to his men. Threehours they worked, making a grave and laying within it every charredbody they found, and making one grave for the forms of a giant and of awoman who had fallen beside him.
“I knew this castle,” said Sir Garin. “This was its lord, and he couldfight bravely! Nor did he fail at times of kindness done. This was itslady, and she was like him.”
At last they rode away from Raimbaut’s castle. First, came otherfields that this storm had struck, then a curving arm, thick and dark,of forest. But, on the further edge of this flowed a stream wherethe bridge was not broken, and nearby was the hut of one who burnedcharcoal, and the man and woman and their children were within andliving. They fell upon their knees and put up their hands for mercy.
“We are not Montmaure!” said Garin. “Jean Charcoal-burner, have youheard if they have done the like to Castel-Noir?”
The charcoal-burner, of elf locks and blackened skin, stared at theknight, and now thought that he knew him, and now that he knew himnot. But he had comfort to give as to Castel-Noir. He had been therewithin three days, and it stood. It was so small a tower and out of theway—Montmaure’s band had ignored it, or were gone for the time to setclaws in other prey. “Sir Foulque?—aye, Sir Foulque lived.”
Garin came to Castel-Noir in the red flush of evening. The fir woodlay quiet and dark, haunted by memory. The stream was as ever it was.Looking up, he saw the lonely, small castle, the round tower—saw,too, a scurrying to it, from the surroun
ding huts, of men, women andchildren. They went like partridges, up the steep, grey road, acrossthe narrow moat, and in at the gate. The drawbridge mounted, creakingand groaning.
“Ah,” said Garin with a sob in his throat, “Foulque thinks that we arefoes!”
He left his men among the firs, and rode on Noureddin up the path knownso well—so well! He rode without spear and shield, and unhelmed.Watchers from loophole or battlement might see only a bronzed horseman,wearing a blue surcoat, worked upon the breast with a bird withoutstretched wings. When he came to the edge of the moat, beneath thewall, he checked Noureddin, sat motionless for a minute, then raisedhis voice. “Castel-Noir!”
A man looked over the wall. “Who and whence, and, Mother of God! whosevoice are you calling with?”
“Sicart!” called Garin, “remember eight years, come Martinmas, and theserf’s dress you found me! Put the bridge down and let me in!”
Foulque met him in the gateway.
“Brother Foulque—”
“Garin, Garin—”
Fir wood, crag, and black castle travelled from the sun, faced theunlighted deeps. But an inner sun shone and warmed. The squires,the troop, had welcome and welcome again. Nothing there was thatSicart and Jean and Pol and Arnaut and all the others would notdo for them! Comforts and treasures were scant, but the whole wastheirs. The saints seemed benignant, so smoothly and fragrantly didmatters go! Pierre found savoury food for all. And there was foragefor the horses. And the courtyard on a summer night, with strawspread down, was good sleeping. But before there was sleeping, cametale-telling—a great ring gathered, with the round moon looking down,and Castel-Noir men and boys and women and girls from the huts below,listening—listening—gaping and exultant! Sir Garin of the GoldenIsland—and how he had taken the cross—and what he had done in theland over the sea, and the tale-tellers with him!
Fairyland had somehow come to Castel-Noir—a warm Paradise of pride inthe native-born, relish for brave deeds, forward felt glow from perhapsvastly better days! Through all ran a filtering of Eastern wonder.There was, too, simple veneration for the slayers of paynims, forbeings who had travelled in the especial country of God! The pride inGarin was strong. They had thought him dead, though some had insistedthat, maybe, one day he would come back, a knight. These now basked intheir own wisdom. But even they had not dreamed the whole fairy taleout! Sir Garin of the Golden Island—and how he got that name—andhow he fought and how he sang and how lords and kings were fain ofhis company—and his brother-in-arms, Sir Aimar—and the three emirs’ransoms! The people of Castel-Noir forgot Montmaure and danger, andwere blissful that night beneath the round and golden moon.
Garin and Foulque bided within the hall, talked there, Garin pacingup and down while Foulque the Cripple gloated on him from his chair.They had torchlight, but the moonlight, too, streamed in. Garin chartedfor his brother the unknown sea of the years he had been away. Foulquefollowed him to Panemonde, to the port, to Syria—and then all theevents and fortune there!
“Ha, ha!” laughed Foulque. “Ha ha! ha ha! Who knows anything in thisworld? Oh, dire misfortune that it seemed to have fought with Jaufrede Montmaure! And here he has given you knighthood and fame andransom-wealth! Ha, ha, ha! Let me laugh! Yesterday I was weeping.”
“If you push things in that direction,” said Garin, “before it wasJaufre it was that herd-girl with the torn dress and streaming hair!There is a path from all things to all things else.”
He stopped before a window embrasure and looked out upon themoon-flooded court and the ring of his men and the Castel-Noir men.When he turned back to Foulque they took up the years as they had gonefor the black castle. They had gone without great events until hadbefallen this war. That being the case, the two were presently at thehuge happenings in the princedom of Roche-de-Frêne. Foulque knew of thefate of Raimbaut the Six-fingered. Jean the Charcoal-burner had broughtthe news. Since that, Castel-Noir had stood somewhat shiveringly uponits rock, the probabilities being that its own hour was near.
And yet Foulque, and Garin with him, agreed that since the band thathad entered this fief and beat down Raimbaut and his castle was nowgone without finding Castel-Noir, it might not think to return upon itstracks, leaving richer prey for sparrow or hare. Foulque consideredthat the ravagers had been Free Companions, mercenaries bought byMontmaure from far away, not knowing nook and corner of the countrythey devastated. Montmaure, angered, had made his threat when Raimbaut,renouncing the immediate allegiance, held for Roche-de-Frêne. He hadkept it, sending fire and death. But Castel-Noir might stay hidden inits fir wood. Foulque, a born sceptic, here showed one contrary streak.He was credulous now of all evil from Jaufre de Montmaure being turnedaside from aught that pertained to Garin. “Certes, not after procuringyou knighthood and gold!”
Garin learned of the war at large. In the spring Prince Gaucelm hadgathered a great host. Under Stephen the Marshal it had met and beatenas great a number, Count Savaric at the head. Savaric had been wounded,thrust back, him and his host, into his own land. Then had come with agreater host Jaufre de Montmaure, like an evil wind. His father, too,recovering, rushed again from Montmaure. Prince Gaucelm and all hisknights and a host of men withstood them. Everywhere there was ringingof shields and flying of arrows. Where Montmaure came, came blight.A walled town had been taken and sacked; another, they said, wasendangered. Rumour ran that Roche-de-Frêne itself must stand a siege.Montmaure was gathering a huge number of spears and countless footmen,and had an Italian who was making for him great engines. But naughtthis side waking to find to-night a dream could now weaken Foulque’soptimism! “Roche-de-Frêne’s no ripe plum to be picked and eaten! Pickthunderbolts from an oak that will outlive Montmaure!”
Foulque was reconciled, when the talk came that way, to Garin’s earlydeparture from Castel-Noir. Neither dreamed but that he, knight andable to help, must of course go. It was his _devoir_. But he mightbide a few days. It would presently be seen if the place were indeedmoderately safe, left a small, overlooked backwater. Foulque’s thinface worked with laughter. “Ha, Jaufre!—and what was it that he saidtouching flaying alive and razing your house? Jaufre makes me sport!”His thought drove aside from the pleasant spice of Jaufre’s menpreserving just Castel-Noir. “And now he would wed the princess!”
Garin, in his pacing, crossed a shaft of moonlight. “What manner oflady is the Princess Audiart?”
“Not fair, but wise, they say. I know not,” said Foulque, “if women canbe wise.”
“Ah, yes, they may!”
“I agree,” said Foulque, “that there is wisdom somewhere in not helpinginto the world sons of Jaufre, grandsons of Savaric!—It is said thatthe townspeople love the princess.”
Garin crossed again the shaft of light. “No harm has come to Our Ladyin Egypt?”
“No harm that I have heard of. Count Savaric is known for a good sonof the Church! He will not harm the bishop’s lands either. I hearreport—I have heard that the Abbot of Saint Pamphilius saith—thatif Montmaure conquers, Bishop Ugo will not be less but greater inRoche-de-Frêne.—But what,” said Foulque, “do I know in truth to tellyou? A cripple, chained to this rock in a fir wood! Little of aughtdo I know—save that there is wickedness on earth!” He tried to besardonic, but could not. “Eh!” said Foulque. “Three emirs? And at whatdid they hold their lives?”
At last Castel-Noir slept, the fair moon looking down. The next day,still there held fairyland. When another day came, Garin took Paladinthat had waited for him all these years, and, followed by Rainier,rode to Our Lady in Egypt. He wished to see the Abbess and ask of hera question. Eight years ago, come Martinmas, what lady had rested, aguest, with Our Lady in Egypt?
The summer woods were passing sweet—fresh and sweet under whateverstrength of sun to those who had come from Syrian towns and Syriansuns. Garin rode with an open heart, smelled sweet odour, heard everysong and movement, praised the green wood and the blue sky. At lastthey saw the olives and the vineyards of Our Lady in Egypt—at la
stthe massy building. And now Paladin stopped before a portal that Garinremembered.... All these years, Jaufre de Montmaure had been in theback of his head, but hardly, it may be said, the herd-girl who firsthad struggled with Jaufre. Memory might have brought her oftener toview, but memory, when it came to women, had been preoccupied with theFair Goal—with the lady who wore the blue, fine stuff, the gem-wroughtgirdle, the eastern veil! But now, sudden and vivid as life, came backthe herd-girl who had ridden behind him upon this horse, who, at theconvent door under the round arch, had looked back at him through darkand streaming hair. The portress opened to her and she entered—rushedback the very tone and sense of blankness and of wonder with which hehad regarded the closed door! “Saint Agatha! how that tastes upon mytongue!” said Garin.
He sat staring at the convent portal. Around was midday heat andstillness. Drowned in that past day, he gave no heed to a sound ofapproaching horsemen. But now Rainier came to his side. “Sir, there arearmed men coming! Best knock and gain entrance—”
But Garin turned to see who came. A small party rode into sight beneaththe convent trees—not more than a dozen horsemen. One bore, dependingfrom a lance, a pensil of blue—the blue of Roche-de-Frêne. It hungunstirring in the windless noon. In the air of the riders there wassomething, one knew not what, of dejection or of portent. They cameneither fast nor slow, the hoofs of the horses making a sullen sound.
Garin looked. At times there blew to him, through appearances, awind from behind appearances. It gave no definite word, but he heardthe rustling of the sibyl’s leaves. He drew Paladin a little to oneside and awaited the riders. From the convent chapel rose a sound ofchanting—the nuns at their office.
The cluster of horsemen arrived in the space before the convent door.The one who rode in front, a knight with grizzled hair and a stern,lean face, directed an enquiry to the mounted men here before him.
Garin answered. “I am of Castel-Noir—ridden here to-day because thereis that which I would ask of the Abbess Angela.”
The grizzled knight shook his head. He spoke to one of those behindhim. “Strike upon the door, Raynold!” then, turning in his saddle,addressed himself to the stranger knight in the blue surcoat. “Fairsir, my lady Abbess, methinks, will not wish to deal to-day with anymatters that may be set aside.”
“I see that you bring heavy tidings,” said Garin. “I fight forRoche-de-Frêne. What are they?”
“Well may you say that they are heavy! Our lord, Prince Gaucelm, isslain.”
“The prince is slain!”
“There has been a great battle, ten leagues from here.... My master!”cried the grizzled knight with sombre passion. “The best prince thisland has known—Gaucelm the Good!”
Garin knew that the head of Our Lady in Egypt was a sister of the deadprince. No longer was it a day in which, after years and at last, hemight ask his question. As it had waited, so must it wait still. He andRainier rode back to Castel-Noir. The next day, with his troop behindhim, he left Foulque, the black tower, and the fir wood, and the nexthe joined the host of Stephen the Marshal where it lay confrontingMontmaure.