[CHAPTER XIV]
OUR LADY IN EGYPT
The air quivered above all surfaces; light and heat spoke with intensity. But those who had been long years in Syria were used to a greater intensity. They travelled now, not minding heat and glare. They rode through a little village that Garin remembered, and at the farther end passed a house with mulberry trees. Children played in their shade. “Ha!” said Garin of the Golden Island. “Time’s wheel goes round, and the fountain casts new spray!”
Rainier the squire knew this country-side. A certain castle was placed conveniently for dinner-time, and to this they drew from the high road. Where you did not war, there obtained, in the world of chivalry, a boundless 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 de Montmaure two thousand spears and ten thousand men-at-arms, archers, and crossbowmen. Montmaure, himself, had a great force. Roche-de-Frêne fought strongly, but the land suffered. Stories were told of the ways of Montmaure. Garin made enquiry as to the Abbey of Saint Pamphilius, not far to the northward. “Saint Pamphilius? Safe as though it held by 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 of Raimbaut 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 Crusader discourse of the Holy Land. But Garin must on. His imagination was seized; 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 lay drowned in light, the air seemed hardly a strip of gauze between it and the sun. They must ride somewhat slowly through the afternoon. At last the heat and dazzle of the day declined. Straight before them lay the Abbey of Saint Pamphilius, and that were good harbourage for the night, but not for any who meant to enter battle upon the side of Roche-de-Frêne! The night would be dry, warm and bright. The men had food with them, in leathern pouches. Forest lay to the right of the road.
Garin spoke to his squires: “It is to my fancy to sleep in this wood to-night. Once I did sleep here, but without esquires and men-at-arms and war-horse.”
It chanced that the moon was almost full. Garin watched it mount between the branches of the trees, and the past rose with it to suffuse the present. He could recall the moods of that night, but they seemed to him now frail and boyish.... Dawn broke; his men rose from where they lay like brown acorns. Nearby, the stream that ran through the wood widened into a pool. Knight, squires, and men-at-arms laid aside clothing, plunged into the cool element, had joy of it. Afterwards, they breakfasted sparely. When the sun lighted the hill-tops they were again 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 a hermit’s cell. At first they thought that it was empty, but at length a grey figure, lean and trembling as a reed, peeped forth.