CHAPTER XVI
"In that same conflict (woe is me!) befell, This fatall chaunce, this dolefull accident Whose heavy tidings now I have to tell. First all the captives which they here had hent Were by them slaine by generall consent."
Dom Anselm was strolling about the courtyard of the castle at Hilgay.
His hands were behind his back, and his head was thrust forward andslowly oscillated from side to side.
It was about eleven o'clock in the morning, and he was pretending totake an intelligent interest in the activity all round. He regarded fourgreat bundles of newly made arrows tied up with rope in the manner of aconnoisseur. He even took one out from its bundle, felt the point, andheld it on a level with his eye to make sure that the shaft wasperfectly straight and true.
Then he went to a heap of raw hides and felt their texture. This done hestood before a mangonel, which was being hoisted up upon the walls by awindlass, and surveyed it with an affectation of the engineer and aflavour of the expert at home. But he did it very badly, and the wholeproceeding was an obvious effort. After that, feeling that he had donehis duty, he went to the draw-well in the centre of the courtyard, and,sitting on the ground on the shady side--for it was a structure ofmasonry some four feet high, like all Norman walls--composed himself tosleep. The creature felt out of place. Upon first news of the comingattack he was hard at work shriving blackguards, and allowing each oneto believe that should an arrow of the enemy put a swift end to hissinful life, the saints and angels would meet them at the jasper gatesof heaven with trumpets and acclamations. The fools believed him; itflattered them to hear of these fine things provided for an unpleasantcontingency, and no one was more important than Sir Anselm. Then camethe ceremonial importance of the funeral and the votive Mass. That kepthim well in the public eye for a little time. But this and that done, hefound time hang very heavy upon his hands.
All round him activity was being pushed to its furthest limit, and inall that hive he was the only drone. The squires passed him with a jest,the waiting maids threw a quip at him. Lewin alone was friendly, but theminter had but little time to spare. That quick brain and alert eye forthe main chances in life were very valuable at Hilgay, and Lewin was inconstant request. The man suggested, advised, and directed operationswhich were the wonder of all who saw them.
But he said nothing of the crack in the orchard wall.
The precious couple were quite resolved upon the treachery which theyhad plotted in the fen. In truth Fulke was a bestial young fool, andoffered no inducement to his followers to be faithful. Roger Bigot was abigger man in the world, and reputed to be very fair with all hispeople. Lewin certainly would gain by the change. As for Dom Anselm, heknew perfectly that Roger would never need a priest, for--a strange facteven in those dreadful days--he was an open scoffer. At the same time,the scoundrel was rather tired of the business. Among men-at-arms it wasnot lucrative, though their superstition enjoined a certain amount ofrespect for him. He knew a little about the rude medicine of that time,had some skill in simples, and he would, he thought, join Roger as achirurgeon provided that all went well.
So he and Lewin laid their plans together.
Dom Anselm slept on the cool side of the wall, all undisturbed by thenoise around. The appearance of the courtyard had quite altered by thistime. Sloping scaffolds of wood, connected by plank galleries, ran up tothe walls and made it possible to instantly concentrate a large force ofmen upon any given point which should be attacked.
The fantastic arms of the mangonels and trebuchets, and other slinginginstruments rose grimly above the battlements. A great crane upon thetop of a tower, slung up piles of rocks and barrels of Greek fire withsteady industry. Shields of wood, covered with damp hide and piercedwith loopholes, frowned on the top of the battlements towards theoutside world.
Great heaps of a sort of hand grenade, made of wicker work and full of afoul concoction of sulphur and pitch, were arranged at intervals, andiron braziers, standing on tripod legs, were dotted here and there, sothat the soldiers could at once obtain a light for a pitch barrel orgrenade.
A large copper gong with a wooden club to beat it was being fitted to astand of ash-wood. The harsh reverberations of this horrid instrumentcould be heard above the din of any fight, and made a better signal thantrumpets.
Amid all the metallic noises, the dishonoured priest slept sweetly. Hewas roused by two startling events.
The first was this. With a great clatter a soldier rode into thecourtyard. His horse was foam-flecked, his furniture and arms allpowdered grey with dust. He swore with horrid oaths that he had onegreat overpowering desire, and that not to be denied. It was beer hesaid that he wanted, and would have before he spoke a single word. Hebellowed for beer. When they brought it him, in a crowd, for he was ascout with news from the Norwich road, he gurgled his content andshouted his news.
Lord Roger had pressed on with great speed, and was now close at hand.Probably as evening fell that day, certainly during that night, hisforce would camp round the walls. They took him away to Fulke's chamber,where that worthy, who had been up all night, was snatching a littlesleep. They thronged round him clamouring for more news.
Dom Anselm once more sat him down in the cool shade of the draw-well,this time with a feeble pretence at reading in his dirty drink-stainedlittle breviary. It was curious to see how early habit reasserted itselfin this way.
Then the second startling event occurred.
There came a burst of distant cheering, an explosion of fierce cries atthe gates, and a little mob of men-at-arms rushed into the bailey,followed by half a dozen sentinels with pikes in their hands.
In the middle of the crowd a man stood bound, dressed in a leathernjacket, and the soldiers were beating him over the head with the shaftsof their pikes. His face ran with blood and there was an awful stare ofhorror in his eyes.
So Hyla came back to Hilgay.
At the gate of the castle they had halted him, with many oaths, andturned his head towards a tree, from one of whose branches hung thenaked swollen corpse of Elgifu.
Dom Anselm lurched up from the side of the well and shouldered his waythrough the press. Here again was his dramatic opportunity. Face toface with the prisoner, he stopped short and spat venomously into hisface. With that, Dom Anselm also passes out of the story.
They held Hyla and buffeted him, while the soldiers from all parts ofthe castle works ran towards the courtyard.
They came running down the slanting bridges leading from the walls, andtheir feet made a noise like thunder on the echoing boards. The cookscame out of the kitchens, the serfs from the stables, until there was agreat bawling, shouting crowd, struggling and fighting to get a look atthe captive.
None were louder in their menace than the serfs.
Some zealous soul, inspired by uncontrollable excitement, feeling thecurious need of personal action that often comes to an excitable naturelabouring under a sudden nerve stress, got him to the chamber at thefoot of Outfangthef and fell to pulling lustily at the castle bell.
Suddenly, with the swiftness of a mechanical trick, a deep stillness ofvoice and gesture fell upon the tumult. It was as though some wizard hadmade his spell and turned them all to stone. Every eye turned towardsOutfangthef and a lane opened among the people. Fulke was seen comingdown the steps, and behind him was his sister, the Lady Alice de laBourne.
The lady stayed on her coign at the head of the stairway, palpitating,and he came slowly down towards the prisoner. In a second they were faceto face.
Twice Fulke put his hand to the pommel of his dagger, and twice he letit fall away. He said nothing, but his sinister eyes looked steadily atHyla till the serf dropped his head before the gaze of his victim's son,so hard, bitter, and cruel it was.
At last Fulke turned to the soldiers: "Take him to the guard-room," hesaid, "and keep him in safety there until I send you word. As for therest of you, get you back to work, for there is not a moment to lose.Let the portcullis fall and heave
the drawbridge up, keep station all ofyou. I promise you a merry sight with that"--he pointed to Hyla--"erelong. He will cry meculpee with his heart's black blood."
He saw the two squires and Lewin among the crowd, and nodded that theyshould come to him. Then, turning, he went with them into the tower, tohis own room again.
To be frank, there was very little drama in that meeting. One might haveexpected drama, Romance would certainly require it, but Fulke was notthe nature to rise to the occasion. He lacked temperament. He would havebetter pleased his men if he had made more display. Indeed, as theyseparated into little groups and discussed the incident, Dom Anselm wasdiscovered as the hero of the moment. Holy Church had distinctly scored.
When the Baron reached his room he proceeded to discuss the method ofHyla's execution with his friends.
He wanted, he said, to make a very public thing of it, indeed he wasquite determined to hang him from the very top of Outfangthef. At thesame time that was far too easy a death.
They turned their four evil brains to the question of torture, a grimconclave, and, curiously enough, it was the keenest and most refinedintelligence which invented the worst atrocities. Lewin proposed thingsmore horrible than Fulke could ever have thought of. They applauded himfor his very serviceable knowledge of anatomy. The pain of Hyla, it waseventually settled, was to last till he could bear no more, and heshould hang from the Tower at the end. With that decision made they felldrinking, for Hyla was not to suffer until after the mid-day meal.
The two men chosen to inflict the torture were two swarthy foreignscoundrels from Mirebeau, men who knew no earthly scruple. About two inthe afternoon a little procession started to the guard-house.
Lewin's interest in the proceedings was already over. He did not jointhem. He had suggested various tortures, it was a mental exercise whichamused him, but that was all. Nothing would have induced him to watchhis own horrible brutalities being inflicted on the victim.
He threaded his way among the pens of lowing cattle and the litter ofwar material to a tower in the forework, and presently, as the longafternoon waned lazily away, his quick eyes caught sight of a clump ofspears, a mile away, on the edge of the wood.
By half the night was over, Hilgay was invested. All round the wallscamp-fires glowed in the dark, and snatches of song in chorus could beheard, or a trumpet blaring orders. Now and again the guards upon thebattlements would hear the thunder of a horse's hoofs, as some officeror galloper went _ventre a terre_ down the village street, and a fewrandom arrows went singing after him.
Every one anxiously awaited the day.