[CHAPTER XVI]
GARIN AND JAUFRE
With a great host Montmaure encamped before Roche-de-Frêne and overran the champaign half way around. Of the remainder, one fourth was, so to speak, debatable ground,—now the field of the blue banner and now that of the green and silver. The final fourth was stubbornly held by Stephen the Marshal and the host. This gave to the east and included the curve of the river, the bridge and its towers, and the road by which still travelled, from unharried lands, food for the beleaguered town.
Montmaure’s tents covered the plain. Off into the deep summer woods fringed the myriad of camp-followers, sutlers, women, thieves, outlawed persons. But the fighting mass showed from the besieged town like a magic and menacing carpet spread half around it, creeping and growing to complete the ring. What was for the time a great army besieged Roche-de-Frêne.
The barons, vassals or allies of Montmaure, had each his quarter where he planted his standard, and whence he led in assault the men who called him lord. The Free Companies pitched among vineyards or where had been vineyards. The spears from Aquitaine and a huge number of bowmen covered thickly old wheat-fields, pastures, and orchards. Near as might safely be to the walls of Roche-de-Frêne,—so near that the din of the town might be heard, that the alarum bell, when it rang, rocked loud in their ears,—were raised, in the fore-front of tents as numerous as autumn sheaves, the pavilions of Count Savaric and of his son, Count Jaufre. It was August weather, hot and thunderous.
Jaufre de Montmaure came to the door of his pavilion and looked at the hill, the town and castle of Roche-de-Frêne. Behind the three were storm clouds, over them storm light. The banner of the Princess Audiart flew high. Against the grey, heaped vapour it showed like an opening into blue sky.
Each day and every day assaults were made. One was now in progress, directed against the bridge-head, very visible from Jaufre’s tent. Aimeric the Bastard led it, and Aimeric was a fierce warrior, followed by men whose only trade was fighting. The atmosphere was still, hushed, grey, and sultry, dulling the noise that was made. The mass of the force was not concerned.
Jaufre stood, tall and red-gold, hawk-nosed, and with a scar across his cheek. He was without armour and lightly clothed, to meet the still heat. Upon the ground without the tent had been spread skins of wild beasts. He spoke over his shoulder, then, moving to these skins, threw himself down upon them. Unconquered town and castle, the present attack upon the bridge, the slow coming of the storm, the blue, undaunted banner could best be noted just from here. A squire brought a flagon of wine from the tent and set it beside him.