"Coucy, Coucy!" cried the dying juggler, in a faint voice, "Gallon is going on the long journey! Come hither, and speak to him before he sets out!"
The young knight put his foot to the ground, and came close up to his wounded follower, who gazed on him with wistful eyes, in which shone the first glance of affection, perhaps, that ever he had bestowed on mortal man.
"I am sorry to leave thee, Coucy!" said he, "I am sorry to leave thee, now it comes to this--I love thee better than I thought. Give me thy hand."
De Coucy spoke a few words of kindness to him, and let him take his hand, which he carried feebly to his lips, and licked it like a dying dog.
"I have spited you very often, Coucy," said the juggler; "and do you know I am sorry for it now, for you have been kinder to me than any one else. Will you forgive me?"
"Yes, my poor Gallon," replied the knight: "I know of no great evil thou hast done; and even if thou hast, I forgive thee from my heart."
"Heaven bless thee for it!" said Gallon.--"Heaven bless thee for it!--But hark thee, De Coucy! I will do thee one good turn before I die. Give me some wine out of thy boutiau, mad Ermold the page, and I will tell the Coucy where I have wronged him, and where he may right himself. Give me some wine, quick, for my horse is jogging to the other world."
Ermold, as he was desired, put the leathern bottle, which every one travelled with in those days, to the lips of the dying man; who, after a long draught, proceeded with his confession. We will pass over many a trick which he acknowledged to have played his lord in the Holy Land, at Constantinople, and in Italy, always demanding between each, "Can you forgive me now?" De Coucy's heart was not one to refuse pardon to a dying man; and Gallon proceeded to speak of the deceit he had put upon him concerning the lands of the Count de Tankerville. "It was all false together," said he. "The Vidame of Besançon told me to tell you, that his friend, the Count de Tankerville, had sent a charter to be kept in the king's hands, giving you all his feofs; and now, when he sees you with the army, commanding the men of Tankerville, the vidame thinks that you are commanding them by your own right, not out of the good will of the king. Besides, he told me, he did not know whether your uncle was dead or not; but that Bernard, the hermit of Vincennes, could inform you."
"But why did you not--?" demanded De Coucy.
"Ask me no questions, Coucy," cried Gallon: "I have but little breath left; and that must go to tell you something more important still. From the top of yon tree, I saw the king marching down to the bridge at Bovines; and, without his knowing it, the enemy are marching after him. If he gets half over, he is lost. I heard Henry of Brabant last night say, that they would send a plan of their battle to the Duke of Limburg, Count Julian, and William de la Roche Guyon, whose troops I sent you after, down the river. He said too," proceeded Gallon, growing apparently fainter as he spoke,--"he said too, that it was to be carried by one who well knew the French camp. Oh, Coucy, my breath fails me. Jodelle, the coterel--he is the man, I am sure--the papers are on him.--But, Coucy! Coucy!" he continued, gasping for breath, and holding the knight with a sort of convulsive grasp, as he saw him turning to seek the important packet he mentioned,--"do not go, Coucy! do not go to the camp--they think you a traitor.--Oh, how dim my eyes grow!--They will have your head off--don't go--you'll be of no use with the head off--Haw, haw! haw, haw!" And with a faint effort at his old wild laugh. Gallon the fool gave one or two sharp shudders, and yielded the spirit, still holding De Coucy tight by the arm.