Philip Augustus; or, The Brothers in Arms

by G. P. R. James

CHAPTER IX.

At Tours, we have seen De Coucy despatch his page towards the Count d'Auvergne; and at Compiègne we have seen the same youth deliver a letter to that nobleman. But we must here pause, to trace more particularly the course of the messenger, which, in truth, was not near so direct as at first may be imagined.

There was, at the period referred to, a little hostelry in the town of Château du Loir, which was neat and well-furnished enough for the time it flourished in.[^[21]] It had the most comfortable large hearth in the world, which, in those days, was the next great excellence in a house of general reception to that of having good wine, which always held the first place; and round this--on each side of the fire, as well as behind it--was a large stone seat, that might accommodate well fifteen or sixteen persons on a cold evening. At the far corner of this hearth, one night in the wane of September, when days are hot and evenings are chilly, sat a fair youth of about eighteen years of age, for whom the good hostess, an honest, ancient dame, that always prayed God's blessing on a pair of rosy cheeks, was mulling some spiced wine, to cheer him after a long and heavy day's riding.

"Ah, now! I warrant thee," said the good lady, adjusting the wood embers carefully round the little pipkin, on the top of which just began to appear a slight creaming foam, promising a speedy conclusion to her labours--"ay, now! I warrant thee, thou hast seen them all--the fair lady Isadore, and pretty mistress Alice, the head maid, and little Eleanor, with her blue eyes. Ha, sir page, you redden! I have touched thee, child. God bless thee, boy! never blush to be in love. Your betters have been so before thee; and I warrant little Eleanor would blush too. God bless her, and St. Luke the apostate! Oh, bless thee, my boy, I know them all! God wot they stayed here, master and man, two days, while they were waiting for news from the king John; and old Sir Julian himself vowed he was as well here as in the best castle of France or England."

"Well, well, dame! I have ridden hard back, at all events," replied the page; "and I will make my horse's speed soon catch up, between this and Paris, the day and a half I have lingered here; so that my noble lord cannot blame me for loitering on his errand."

"Tut, tut! He will never know a word," cried the old dame, applying to the page that sort of consolatory assurance that our faults will rest unknown, which has damned many a one, both man and woman, in this world--"he will never know a word of it; and, if he did, he would forgive it. Lord, Lord! being a knight, of course he is in love himself; and knows what love is. God bless him, and all true knights! I say."

"Oh, in love--to be sure he is!" replied the page. "Bless thee, dame! when we came all hot from the Holy Land, like loaves out of an oven, my lord no sooner clapped his eyes upon the lady Isadore, than he was in love up to the ears, as they say. Ay! and would ride as far to see her, as I would to see little Eleanor. But tell me, dame, have you staked the door as I asked you?"

"Latch down, and bolt shot!" answered the old lady; "but what shouldst thou fear, poor child? Thou art not of king John's friends, that I well divine; but, bless thee! every one who has passed, this blessed day, says they are moving the other way; though, in good troth, I have no need to say God be thanked; for the heavy Normans, and the thirsty English, would sit here and drink me pot after pot, and it mattered not what wine I gave them--Loiret was as good as Beaugency. God bless them all, and St. Luke the apostate! as I said. So what need'st thou fear, boy?"

"Why, I'll tell thee, good dame. If they caught me, and knew I was the De Coucy's man, they would hang me up, for God's benison," said the page; "and I narrowly escaped on the road too. Five mounted men, with their arms covered with soldiers' mantles,--though they looked like knights, and rode like knights too,--chased me for more than a mile. They had a good score of archers at their backs; and I would have dodged them across the country, but every little hill I came to, I saw a body of horse on all sides, moving pace by pace with them. Full five hundred men, I counted one way and another; and there might be five hundred more, for aught I know."

"Now, St. Barbara's toe nail to St. Luke's shoulder bone," exclaimed the hostess, mingling somewhat strangely the relics which she was accustomed to venerate with the profane wagers of the soldiery who frequented her house--"now, St. Barbara's toe nail to St. Luke's shoulder bone, that these are the men whom my lodger upstairs expected to come to-night!"

"What lodger?" cried the page anxiously. "Dame, dame, you told me, this very morning, you had none!"

"And I told you true, sir chit!" replied the old woman, bridling at the tone of reproach the page adopted. "I told you true.--There, drink your wine--it is well mulled now;--take care you do not split the horn, pouring it in so hot.--I told you true enough--I had no lodger this morning, when you went; but, half an hour after, came one who had ridden all night, with a great boutiau at his saddle, that would hold four quarts. Cursed be those boutiaus! they cut us vintners' combs. Every man carries his wine with him, and never sets foot in a hostelry but to feed his horse."

"But the traveller!--the traveller!--Good dame, tell me," cried the page, "what manner of man was he?"

"A goodly man, i'faith," replied the landlady. "Taller than thou art, sir page, by a hand's breadth. He had been in a fray, I warrant, for his eye was covered over with a patch, and his nose broken across. He too would fain not be seen, and made me put him in a guest-chamber at the end of the dormitory. He calls himself Alberic, though that is nothing to me or any one: and there was a Norman came to speak with him an hour after he came; but that is nothing to me either."

"Hark, dame! hark! I hear horses," cried the page, starting up in no small trepidation, "Where can I hide me? Where?" and, even as he asked the question, he began to climb the stairs, that came almost perpendicularly down into the centre of the room, with all the precipitation of fear.

"Not there!--not there!" cried the old woman; "thou wilt meet that Alberic. Into that cupboard;" and, seizing the page by the arm, she pushed him into a closet filled with faggots and brushwood for replenishing the kitchen fire. Under this heap he ensconced himself as well as he might, paying no regard to the skin of his hands and face, which was very sufficiently scratched in the operation of diving down to the bottom of the pile. The old lady, who seemed quite familiar with all such manœuvres, while the sound of approaching horses came nearer and nearer, arranged what he had disarranged in his haste, sat down by the fire, tossed off the remainder of the wine in the pipkin, and began to spin quietly, while the horses' feet that had startled the page clattered on through the village. In a moment after, they stopped at the door; and, at the same time, a heavy footfall was heard pacing forward above, as if some one, disturbed also by the sounds, approached to listen at the head of the stairs.

"Ho! Within there!" cried some person without, after having pushed the door, and found it bolted.--"Ho! Within there! Open, I say."

The old dame ran forward, taking care to make her feet give audible sounds of haste upon the floor; and, instantly unfastening the door, she stood becking and bowing to the strangers, as they dismounted from their horses and entered the kitchen.

"God save ye, fair sir!--God save ye, noble gentlemen. Welcome, welcome!--Lord! Lord! I have not seen such a sight of noble faces since good king John's army went. The blessing of God be upon him and them! He is a right well favoured and kingly lord! Bless his noble eyes, and his sweet low forehead, and send him plenty of crowns to put upon it!"

"How, dame! Dost thou know King John?" asked one of the strangers, laying his hand upon the hostess's shoulders, with an air of kindly familiarity. "But thou mistakest. I have heard he is villanous ugly. Ha!"

"Lord forgive you, sire, and St. Luke the apostate!" cried the old woman. "He is the sweetest gentleman you ever set your eyes on. Many a time have I seen him when the army was here; and so handsome he is! Lord, Lord!"

"Ha! methinks thou wouldst look handsomer thus, thyself," cried the stranger, suddenly snatching off the old woman's quoif, and setting it down again on her head with the wrong side in front. "So, my lovely lass!" and he patted the high cap with the whole strength of his hand, so as to flatten it completely. "So, so!"

His four companions burst into a loud and applauding laugh, and were proceeding to follow up his jest upon the old woman, when the other stopped them at once, crying, "Enough, my masters! no more of it. Let us to business. Guillaume de la Roche Guyon, you shall make love to the old wench another time.--Now, beautiful lady!" he continued, mocking the chivalrous speeches of the day. "Would those sweet lips but deign to open the coral boundary of sound, and inform an unhappy knight, who has this evening ridden five long leagues, whether one sir Alberic, as he is pleased to call himself, lodges in your castle?"

"Lord bless your noble and merry heart!" replied the old woman, apparently not at all offended or discomposed by the accustomed gibes of her guests. "How should I know sir Alberic? I never ask strangers' names that do my poor hostel the honour of putting up at it. Not but that I may have heard the name, and lately; but----"

"But--hold thy peace, old woman!" said a voice from above. "These persons want me, and I want them;" and down the staircase came no less a person than our friend Jodelle, the captain of De Coucy's troop of Brabançois. One eye indeed was covered with a patch; but this addition to his countenance was probably assumed less as a concealment, than for the purpose of covering the marks of a tremendous blow which we may remember the knight had dealt him with the pommel of his sword; and which, notwithstanding the patch, shone out in a large livid swelling all round.

"Tell me, dame," cried he, advancing to the hostess, before he exchanged one word of salutation with the strangers, "who was it that stopped at your gate half an hour ago on horseback, and where is he gone? He was speaking with thee but now, for I heard two voices."

"Lord bless you, sir, and St. Luke the apostate, to boot!" said the old woman, "'twas but my nephew, poor boy; frightened out of his life, because he said he had met with some of King Philip's horsemen on the road. So he slipped away when he heard horses coming, and took his beast round to the field to ride off without being noticed, because being of the English party, King Philip would hang him if he caught him."

"King Philip's horsemen!" cried the first stranger, turning deadly pale. "Whence did he come, good dame? What road did he travel, that he saw King Philip's horsemen?"

"He came from Flêche, fair sir," replied the hostess, "and he said there were five of them chased him; and he saw many more scattered about."

"Oh, nonsense!" cried one of the other strangers. "'Tis the youth we chased ourselves. He has taken us for Philip's men.--How was he dressed, dame?"

"In green, beau sire," replied the ready hostess. "He had a green cassock on I am well nigh sure."

"'Tis the same!--'tis the same!" said the stranger, who had asked the last question.--"Be not afraid, beau sire," he added, speaking in a low tone to the stranger who had entered first. "Philip is far enough; and were he near, he should dine off the heads of lances, and quaff red blood till he were drunk, ere he harmed a hair of your head. So, be not afraid."

"Afraid, sir!" replied the other, drawing himself up haughtily, now re-assured by the certainty of the mistake concerning Philip's horsemen. "How came you to suppose I am afraid?--Now, good fellow," he continued, turning to Jodelle, "are you that Alberic that wrote a billet this morning to the camp at----?"

"By your leave, fair sir," interrupted Jodelle, "we will have a clear coast.--Come, old woman, get thee out. We must be alone."

"What! out of my own kitchen, sir?" cried the hostess. "That is hard allowance, surely."

"It must needs be so, however," answered Jodelle: "out at that door, good dame! Thou shalt not be long on the other side;" and, very unceremoniously taking the landlady by the arm, he put her out at the door which opened on the street, and bolted it once more. "And now," said he, "to see that no lurkers are about."

So saying, he examined the different parts of the room, and then opened the door of the closet, in which the poor page lay trembling like an aspen leaf.

"Brushwood!" said Jodelle, taking a candle from one of the iron brackets that lighted the room, and advancing into the closet, he laid his hand on one of the bundles, and rolled it over.

The page, cringing into the space of a pigmy, escaped his sight, however; and the roll of the fagot, instead of discovering him, concealed him still better by falling down upon his head. But still unsatisfied, the marauder drew his sword, and plunged it into the mass of brushwood to make all sure.--There was in favour of the poor page's life but the single chance of Jodelle's blade passing to the right or left of him. Still, that chance was for him. The Brabançois' sword was aimed a little on one side, and, leaving him uninjured, struck against the wall. Jodelle sheathed it again, satisfied, and returned to the strangers, the chief of whom had seated himself by the fire, and was, with strange levity, moralising on the empty pipkin which had held the mulled wine.

His voice was sweet and melodious, and, though he evidently spoke in mockery, one might discover in his speech those tones and accents that lead and persuade.

"Mark! Guillaume de la Roche," said he, "Mark! Pembroke, and you, sir Alberic, mark well! for it may happen in your sinful life, that never again shall you hear how eloquently a pipkin speaks to man. Look at it, as I hold it now in my hand. No man amongst you would buy it at half a denier; but fill it with glorious wine of Montrichard, and it is worth ten times the sum. Man! man! thou art but a pipkin,--formed of clay--baked in youth--used in manhood--broken in age. So long as thou art filled with spirit, thou art valuable and ennobled; but the moment the spirit is out, thou art but a lump of clay again. While thou art full, men never abandon thee; but when thou art sucked empty, they give thee up, and let thee drop as I do the pipkin;" and opening his finger and thumb, he suffered it to fall on the floor, where it at once dashed itself to pieces.

"And now, sir Alberic," continued he, turning to Jodelle, "what the devil do you want with me?"

"Beau sire king," said Jodelle, bending his knee before the stranger, "if you are indeed, as your words imply, John, king of England----"

"I am but a pipkin!" interrupted the light king. "Alas! sir Alberic, lam but a pipkin.--But proceed, proceed.--I am the king."

"Well then, my lord," answered Jodelle, in truth, somewhat impatient in his heart at the king's mockery, "as I was bold to tell you in my letter, I have heard that your heart's best desire is to have under your safe care and guidance your nephew, Arthur, duke of Brittany----"

"Thou speakest right, fellow!" cried the King John, wakening to animation at the thought. "'Tis my heart's dearest wish to have him.--Where is the little rebel? Produce him! Have you got him here?"

"Good God! my lord, you forget," said the Earl of Pembroke. "This fair gentleman cannot be expected to carry your nephew about with him, like a holy relic in a reliquary."

"Or, a white mouse in a show-box," added Guillaume de la Roche Guyon, laughing.

"Good, good!" cried John, joining in the laugh.--"But come, sir Alberic, speak plainly. Where is the white mouse? When wilt thou open thy show-box? We have come ourselves, because thou wouldest deal with none but us; therefore, now thou hast our presence, bear thyself discreetly in it.--Come, when wilt thou open the box, I pray?"

"When it pleases you to pay the poor showman his price?" said Jodelle, bowing low and standing calmly before the king, in the attitude of one who knows that, for the moment at least, he commands, where he seems to be commanded; and that his demands, however exorbitant, must be complied with.

"Ha!" said John, knitting his brows; "I had forgot that there is not one man on all the earth who has not his price.--Pray, what is thine, fellow?"

"I am very moderate, beau sire," replied Jodelle, with the most imperturbable composure, "very moderate in regard to what I sell. Would you know, my lord king, what I demand for placing your nephew Arthur in your hands, with all those who are now assisting him to besiege the queen, your mother, in her château of Mirebeau?--'Tis a worthy deed, and merits some small recompence."

"Speak, speak, man!" cried the king impatiently. "Go not round and round the matter. Speak it out plainly. What sum dost thou ask?"

"Marry! my lord, there must go more than sums to the bargain," replied Jodelle boldly. "But if you would know justly what I do demand, 'tis this. First, you shall pay me down, or give me here an order on your royal treasure for the sum of ten thousand marks in what coin you will."

"By the Lord, and the Holy Evangelists!" cried the king; but, then pausing, he added, while he turned a half smiling glance to Lord Pembroke:--"Well, thou shalt have the order on the royal treasury. What next?"

"After you have given me the order, sire," replied Jodelle, answering the meaning of the king's smile, "I will find means to wring the money out of your friends, or out of your enemies, even should your treasure be as dry as hay."

"Try my enemies first, good Alberic," said the king; "my friends have enough to do already.--But what next? for you put that firstly, if I forget not."

"Next, you must give me commission, under your royal signet, to raise for your use, and at your expense, one thousand free lances," replied Jodelle stoutly, "engaged to serve you for the space of ten years. Moreover, I must have annually half the pay of Mercader; and you must consent to dub me knight with your royal hand."

"Knight!" cried the Earl of Pembroke, turning fiercely upon him.--"By the Lord! if the king do dub so mean and pitiful a traitor, I will either make the day of your dubbing the last of your life; or I will have my own scullion strike off my own spurs, as a dishonour to my heels, when such a villain wears the same."

"When those spurs are on, Lord Pembroke," replied Jodelle boldly, "thou shalt not want one to meet thee, and give thee back scorn for scorn. Till then, meddle with what concerns thee, and mar not the king's success with thy scolding."

"Peace, Pembroke! peace!" cried King John, seeing his hasty peer about to make angry answer. "Who dare interfere where my will speaks?--And now tell me, fellow Alberic," he added with an air of dignity he could sometimes assume, "suppose that we refuse thine exacting demands--what follows then?"

"Why, that I betake myself to my beast's back, and ride away as I came," answered Jodelle undisturbedly.

"But suppose we do not let thee go," continued the king; "and farther, suppose we hang thee up to the elm before the door."

"Then you will have broken a king's honour to win a dead carcase," answered the Brabançois; "for nothing shall you ever know from me that may stead you in your purpose."

"But we have tortures, sir, would almost make the dead speak," rejoined King John. "Such, at least, as would make thee wish thyself dead a thousand times, ere death came to thy relief."

"I doubt thee not, sir king," answered Jodelle, with the same determined tone and manner in which he had heretofore spoken--"I doubt thee not; and, as I pretend to no more love for tortures than my neighbours, 'tis more than likely I should tell thee all I could tell, before the thumbscrew had taken half a turn; but it would avail thee nothing, for nought that I could tell thee would make my men withdraw till they have me amongst them; and, until they be withdrawn, you may as well try to surprise the sun of heaven, guarded by all his rays, as catch Prince Arthur and Guy de Coucy."

"Why wouldst thou not come to the camp, then?" demanded John. "If thou wert so secure, why camest thou not when I sent for thee?"

"Because, King John, I once served your brother Richard," replied the Brabançois, "and during that time I made me so many dear friends in Mercader's band, that I thought, if I came to visit them, without two or three hundred men at my back, they might, out of pure love, give me a banquet of cold steel, and lodging with our lady mother,--the earth."

"The fellow jests, lords! On my soul! the fellow jests!" cried John.--"Get thee back, sirrah, a step or two; and let me consult with my nobles," he added.--"Look to him, Pembroke, that he escape not."

John then spoke for several minutes with the gentlemen who had attended him to this extraordinary meeting; and the conversation, though carried on in a low tone, seemed in no slight degree animated; more especially on the part of Lord Pembroke, who frequently spoke loud enough for such words to be heard as "disgrace to chivalry--disgust the barons of England--would not submit to have their order degraded," &c.

At length, however, a moment of greater calm succeeded; and John, beckoning the coterel forward, spoke to him thus:--

"Our determination is taken, good fellow, and thou shall subscribe to it, or not, as thou wilt. First, we will give thee the order upon our treasury for the ten thousand marks of silver; always provided, that within ten days' time, the body of Arthur Plantagenet is by thy means placed in our hands--living--or dead," added the king, with a fearful emphasis on the last word. At the same time he contracted his brows, and though his eyes still remained fixed upon Jodelle, he half-closed the eyelids over them, as if he considered his own countenance as a mask through which his soul could gaze out without being seen, while he insinuated what he was afraid or ashamed to proclaim openly.

Lord Pembroke gave a meaning glance to another nobleman who stood behind the king; and who slightly raised his shoulder and drew down the corner of his mouth as a reply, while the king proceeded:--

"We will grant thee also, on the same condition, that which thou demandest in regard to raising a band of Brabançois, and serving as their commander, together with all the matter of pay, and whatever else you have mentioned on that head; but as to creating thee a knight, 'tis what we will not, nor cannot do, at least, for service of this kind. If you like the terms, well!" concluded the king; "if not, there stands an elm at the door, as we have before said, which would form as cool and shady a dangling place, as a man could wish to hang on in a September's day."

"Nay, I have no wish of the kind," replied the Brabançois: "if I must hang on any thing, let it be a king, not a stump of timber. I will not drive my bargain hard, sir king. Sign me the papers now, with all the conditions you mention; and when I am your servant, I will do you such good service, that yon proud lord, who now stands in the way of my knighthood, shall own I deserve it as well as himself."

The Earl of Pembroke gave him a glance of scorn, but replied not to his boast; and writing materials having been procured from some of the attendants without--the whole house being by this time surrounded with armed men, who had been commanded to follow the king by different roads--the papers were drawn up, and signed by the king.

"And now, my lord," said Jodelle, with the boldness of a man who can render needful service, "look upon Prince Arthur as your own. Advance with all speed upon Mirebeau. When you are within five leagues, halt till night. Arthur, with the hogs of Poitou, is kinging it in the town. De Coucy sleeps by his watch-fire under the castle mound. My men keep the watch on this side of the town. Let your troops advance quietly in the dark, giving the word Jodelle, and, without sign or signal, my free fellows shall retire before you, till you are in the very heart of the place. Arthur, with his best knights, sleeps at the prévôt's house; surround that, and you have them all, without drawing a sword.--Love you the plan?"

"By my crown and honour!" cried the king, his eyes sparkling with delight, "if the plan be as well executed as it is devised, thou wilt merit a diamond worth a thousand marks, to weigh your silver down. Count upon me, good Alberic! as your best friend through life, if thy plot succeeds. Count on me, Alberic----"

"Jodelle! for the future, so please you, sire," replied the coterel; "Alberic was but assumed:--and now, my lord, I will to horse and away; for I must put twenty long leagues between me and this place before the dawn of to-morrow."

"Speed you well!--speed you well, good Jodelle!" replied the king, rising: "I will away too, to move forward on Mirebeau, like an eagle to his prey. Come, lords! to horse!--Count on me, good Jodelle!" he repeated, as he put his foot in the stirrup, and turned away, "count on me--to hang you as high as the crow builds," he muttered to himself as he galloped off--"ay, count on me for that! Well; lords, what think you of our night's work?--By Heaven! our enemies are in our hands! We have but to do, as I have seen a child catch flies,--sweep the board with our palm, and we grasp them all."

"True, my lord," replied the Earl of Pembroke, who had been speaking in a low voice with some of the other followers of the prince. "But there are several things to be considered first."

"How to be considered, sir?" demanded King John, somewhat checking his horse's pace with an impatient start. "What is it now?--for I know by that word, considered, that there is some rebellion to my will, toward."

"Not so, sire," replied the Earl of Pembroke firmly; "but the barons of England, my liege, have to remember that, by direct line of descent, Arthur Plantagenet was the clear heir to Richard Cœur de Lion. Now, though there wants not reason or example to show that we have a right to choose from the royal family which member we think most fit to bear the sceptre; yet we so far respect the blood of our kings, and so far feel for the generous ardour of a noble youth who seeks but to regain a kingdom which he deems his of right, that we will not march against Arthur Plantagenet, without you, sire, will promise to moderate your wrath towards him, to confirm him in his dukedom of Brittany, and to refrain from placing either your nephew, or any of his followers, in any strong place or prison, on pretext of guarding them."

John was silent for a long space, for his habitual dissimulation could hardly master the rage that struggled in his bosom. It conquered at last, however, and its triumph was complete.

"I will own, I am grieved, Lord Pembroke," said he, in a hurt and sorrowful tone, "to think that my good English barons should so far doubt their king, as to approach the very verge of rebellion and disobedience, to obtain what he could never have a thought of denying. The promises you require I give you, as freely and as willingly as you could ask them; and if I fail to keep them in word and deed, let my orders be no longer obeyed; let my sceptre be broken, my crown torn from my head, and let me, by peer and peasant, be no longer regarded as a king."

"Thanks! my lord! thanks!" cried Lord Bagot and one or two of the other barons, who followed. "You are a free and noble sovereign, and a right loyal and excellent king. We thank you well for your free promise and accord."

Lord Pembroke was silent. He knew John profoundly, and he had never seen promises steadily kept, which had been so easily obtained.