Chapter VIII: Spears of Destiny

In Rouen for the first time the comrades saw signs of the Crusade which was being preached throughout Europe. As they rode past the Cathedral on their way to the town gates, several hungry-eyed friars rushed at them, brandishing crosses and demanding that they take the pledge of service.

"Gladly would I do so, reverend sirs," answered Hugh courteously, "but I am under a vow to complete a certain task, which taketh me to Outremer, and peradventure to the Holy Land. If so it falls out, I shall endeavour to do my devoir as becomes a servant of Christ."

One of the friars turned away, but the elder raised his right hand in a threatening gesture, dangling the cross aloft.

"Beware and ye set the affairs of this life before those of the life everlasting," he cried. "Small good will attend the efforts of those who put off the service of Christ for the satisfaction of their own ends. Think well, sir squire, if you can afford to risk failure on earth and after death. The Cross comes first."

"A pest on you, sir friar," exclaimed Matteo cheerfully. "Why must you nag on strangers, when I'll warrant there are a-many of your townsfolk here are not coming forward? Be off with you."

He tossed the man a coin, which the friar pouched with ludicrous haste.

"Little fear those alms will be applied to pilgrims' wants," continued Matteo. "These preaching fellows are a veritable nuisance. Yon knave saw that you liked not to be singled out in public, and would have pursued you in hopes of a larger gift."

"Are they so venal?" asked Hugh in amazement.

"Some. They are not all such hypocrites. A Crusade is a strange business, like the men who throng its ranks and lead its fortunes, a mingling of good aims and wickedness. No longer will people go forth because they feel that they must. Nowadays the Holy Apostle of Rome must promise them all manner of indulgences, absolutions, remissions of sins and rewards, spiritual and temporal."

"We hear little of this Crusade in England," remarked Hugh thoughtfully, as they passed out of the gate and took the road to the east.

"Ay, like enough. Had Lion-Heart lived 'twould have been otherwise, I trow. But King John is just come to peace with King Philip of France, after all these years of wars, and he is in no mind to begin another quarrel. Nor is King Philip, for that matter. The German Emperor is at swords' points with Rome, so that none but the chief vassals of France and Flanders, Lorraine, Burgundy, Provence and Lombardy are left to perform the task which falls rightly to the share of their lords."

"But such a Crusade, wanting some great Prince to lead it, must surely fail," objected Hugh.

"Mayhap," returned Matteo. "But 'twill not fail for lack of trained men-at-arms. The ceasing of the wars in Normandy, Aquitaine and Poitou hath left thousands of the brethren without a profession. They will be blithe to take service in a new cause, which promiseth booty and assortment of their multitudes of sins."

"I would I might see somewhat of their venture," mused Hugh. "Hast made me long for a charge at Saladin's chivalry with all your wild tales."

"Who knows? Our quest may lead us thither," replied Matteo. "What say you, Ralph, who ride so primly wordless?"

"Marry, Messer Matteo, I am that happy to feel solid earth beneath my feet I cannot give thought to anything but the goodness of all about me," answered Ralph, grinning broadly. "'Tis a fair land, this France, more like unto our England than I had supposed. But I cannot see that it is larger, as you told me."

"Didst think to measure it all at a glance?" retorted Matteo. "But I spoke of whither our quest might lead us. Art ready to venture the sea again that we may reach Paynimry?"

"Ay, if must be," Ralph sighed dolefully. "But I slew Paynims enough in the sea-fight to satisfy me a while, an it please you, lords."

Hugh and Matteo laughed at this naïve admission, and so the comrades jogged along their road. They crossed the frontier of the Duchy without difficulty, and passed into the beautiful country of the Isle of France. That night they lay at the castle of a lord who welcomed them eagerly as strangers from a far land. Hugh was received for his name's sake; Matteo won loud applause from knight and lady, squire and men-at-arms, by his chants and romaunts. The best the castle had was theirs, and they resumed their journey the next morning mightily refreshed.

Spring was in the air. The trees were leafing; birds sang by the wayside; in the depths of the forests sometimes they could catch the far-off note of hunting-horns; fine lords and gay ladies, sober burgesses, portly priests and prelates, parties on pilgrimages, passed them by, with all the pomp and pageantry of life. Once a small clump of spears showed on the skyline and galloped swiftly toward them, but when the men-at-arms, hardy, whiskered Free Companions, viewed the comrades at close quarters, they circled and drew off. Little booty and hard blows were not to the liking of such gentry.

Day by day they travelled, and each day seemed more eventful, more diverse in its surprises, than its predecessor. By Beaumont, in the Isle of France, they rode more than thirty leagues to Soissons on the marches of Champagne. Several times they overtook troops of men on horseback and afoot, bound southward into Italy to embark for the Crusade. Hugh looked longingly at the crosses proudly borne on the Crusaders' breasts.

From Soissons they made a long day's journey to Reims. Here they turned southward, and rode by Epernay to Sezanne. Beyond Sezanne the road to Troyes led through a vast forest, wild and tenantless, save for the occasional smokes of charcoal-burners. When they halted at midday the forest still stretched before them, seemingly endless and without sign of human habitation. They were obliged to satisfy their hunger with such food as Ralph had brought in a wallet on the packhorse.

"A fit setting for a romaunt," said Hugh, as they mounted again.

"I like it not," answered Matteo, shuddering. "My body craves the sun. Here, where the trees tower so high and arch overhead, it is all shadow, all evil. I like it not."

"Y'are unwonted dolorous, comrade," smiled Hugh.

"Ay, and of a mood to take precautions," Matteo assented, drawing the mail hood about his ears.

"Why, dost fear----"

"In these forest ways foes may come secretly upon us."

"What foes?"

"It matters not who they may be," returned the jongleur. "We wear two suits of armour that would be worth a score of forest varlets' lives. That is sufficient temptation."

Hugh sobered.

"Art in the right," he said.

And he donned the casque of plate that hung at his saddle-bow. Gradually, too, he became possessed by the same spirit of melancholy that oppressed Matteo. Of the three only Ralph rode cheerful and happy, a lusty whistle on his lips. But the hours passed and nothing happened. 'Twas late afternoon when Matteo reined in abruptly and laid his hand on Hugh's arm.

"Dost hear?" he asked.

"What?"

"Yes, there it is again!"

"What?" repeated Hugh. "In this helm I hear naught a few feet distant."

Matteo beckoned Ralph to them.

"Hark," he said. "Give ear ahead, Ralph. Dost hear aught else than the whispering of leaves?"

Ralph inclined his head.

"Ay, that do I!" he exclaimed. "Shouts and it may be the clang of steel."

"I thought so," cried the jongleur triumphantly. "Come, Hugh, there is mischief under way along the road."

A great joy sprang up in their hearts as they spurred eagerly forward betwixt thick walls of greenery, the thudding of the horses' hoofs deadening all other sounds.

"Hast banished gloom?" shouted Hugh above the thunder of the hoofs.

Matteo flung his spear in air and caught it again.

"I shall burn a candle to Our Lady of Tortosa for this," he answered. "My bones have been aching for a fight--and I care not for odds. The greater----"

The road curled around a projecting bank, and without warning they burst from the wood onto the edge of a cleared space, where another road crossed the one by which they were travelling. Midway of this space in front of a wayside shrine, a group of ragged knaves swirled about a knot of serving men, who fell rapidly before the clubs and long knives of the attackers. Beside the shrine a second group of robbers guarded a man and woman on horseback.

"Forest runners," said Matteo.

"St. James, but we are in luck!" exulted Hugh. "There are more than a score of the rogues. Ralph, do you stand by to cover our charge. We shall surprise them right merrily."

Ralph dismounted, nimbly notched his string and knocked an arrow.

"Spears?" questioned Matteo.

"No," Hugh decided. "No knightly weapons for such enemies. The sword shall be their portion."

They drew their blades and charged. The outlaws set up a shrill screaming, and scattered loosely. But they were no cowards, those forest ruffians. Light-footed and agile, they ran to meet the mailed horsemen, trying to leap up behind and stab under the folds of the hauberk or to hock the horses in passing. But Hugh and Matteo were ready for them, and Ralph, from the forest edge, sent his deadly arrows hissing through the air whenever one of the comrades was in danger.

Back and forth swayed the fight, the grey stallion and Matteo's Arab bearing their full share of the conflict with pawing hoofs and champing jaws. Hugh fought as he had been taught, thrusting ahead by main strength, cutting down whoever stepped in his path. Matteo fought after the Saracen fashion, manoeuvring his horse to right or left, avoiding blows and seeking to deal them where they were least expected.

The comrades hacked a bloody path in the outlaws' ranks, but try as they might, they could not win to the prisoners. The most they could achieve was to drive the enemy steadily before them until the two hostile groups were united by the shrine. Then Hugh called a halt.

"Curse this helm!" he cried. "I cannot see for it! Prithee, Matteo, help me unbuckle it. 'Twas not intended for such a bicker."

When it was off he sat bare-headed, inhaling the fragrant forest air and studying the situation which confronted them. Half-a-dozen outlaws lay with the dead servants of the two prisoners, around whom clustered the remnant of the band. Whilst Hugh looked, the woman waved her hand to him and smiled. She was clad in a close-fitting green habit that emphasised the flowing lines of her tall figure. Her face Hugh saw vaguely to be very beautiful. The man was huddled in his saddle, apparently cowed by the savagery of his captors. His rich dress, no less than hers, bespoke their exalted degree.

"Best not charge the knaves, Hugh," urged Matteo. "Stir their anger and make them break toward us. So we may ride them down easier."

"Good counsel," Hugh approved. "What ho, varlets!" he hailed the outlaws. "Hast had enough?"

They snarled, and formed their ranks closer. Hugh laughed.

"Prick them up, Ralph," he ordered.

The longbow twanged, and clothyard shafts flew over the grass like angry hornets; but each buzz ended in a shriek of agony, as the arrows drove through leather jerkin and flesh. A hoarse voice rasped from the unkempt ranks.

"Enough, lords! Have mercy on your poor slaves! Do not slay us!"

"What is this?" demanded Hugh, surprised. "Do you yield to our mercy?"

A frowsy fellow, armed like his mates with a knotted club and a knife, stood forth from the group and flung himself on his knees.

"We ask only that you let us go free, lords," he pleaded. "Do not send us back to the seigneur to be branded and whipped. We will die first!"

"What mean you?"

Hugh rode forward to the man's side, moved to pity.

"We are masterless men, lord. We have no homes, no food or cattle. We were hungry. But we meant no harm."

"The corpses of those you slew prove that," agreed Hugh grimly. "Think of a better reason for mercy."

The man crawled closer.

"There are those who love us, lord," he cried. "We are men, even if we are serfs. We love those who love us and look to us for care. We seek to satisfy their wants. Yet we are satisfied with a mud hut, where you have a castle. We wear only coarse clothes, where you wear camlet and cendal. We do not ask for fowls and fair white bread, with rich wines; but we must have some meat to keep us from starving. Our lot is hard, lord. We do but try to find that which will keep our loved ones alive. Spare us for them!"

"You speak like a clerk, fellow!" exclaimed Hugh. "'Twas well-argued. What think you, Matteo? Shall----"

"Look behind you!" shrieked the woman prisoner from the outlaw ranks.

Hugh turned to see a party of the forest rogues creeping from the protection of a thicket in their rear. At the same moment the fellow at his feet leaped up and swung knife and club at his throat. But Beosund, the grey stallion, saved his master's life. The brave horse reared high on his hindlegs so that the blows only numbed Hugh's arm, curvetted in a demi-volte and galloped clear of the trap after Matteo.

No outlaw dared to press the pursuit in face of Ralph's bow.

"How now," panted Hugh angrily, as they reined in at the forest edge. "Are we to be balked by such rascals?"

"Not so, an you follow my counsel," replied Matteo. "Let us do this wise. Ralph, do you shoot fast as you may, aiming all your shafts at one point in their ranks. So you shall make a gap, and into this we will gallop, and if Our Lady aids us, perchance seize the prisoners and lead them to safety. Are you agreed?"

"Ay, 'tis a good plan."

"In God's name, then, let us charge!"

The grey stallion and the Arab thundered forward again, and the forest runners, despite their terrible punishment, met the attack like wolves too hungry to know fear. They bit at the steel that slew them, twisting their taloned-hands in the horses' manes in desperate efforts to drag their enemies down. The comrades hewed until their arms were weary, but always there seemed to be more of the outlaws eager to die. It was Ralph's shooting that turned the tide. He ran hither and yon, speeding his shafts where they would do the most good, and the certain death they carried was more fearsome than the thirsty swords.

Hugh thought the fight would never end. A dying outlaw clinging to his stirrup, a second man hacking at his back for a weak spot in the mail, he found himself facing a third enemy who belaboured his unshielded side with a huge club. Matteo was busied with other adversaries. Hugh had to save himself, for so closely was he engaged that Ralph did not dare to shoot.

But Hugh rallied to the emergency with all his remaining strength, kicked free of the clutching hands on his stirrup, smashed in the face of the man behind him with the pommel of his sword, and by a back-hand blow slashed the club from the hands of the third varlet. The fellow dodged and ran. Hugh spurred on in a bloodshot mist, until a white hand was laid upon his rein.

"You have won, sir knight," said a deep voice that thrummed like harp-strings. "They have fled."

Slowly the mist was dissipated, and Hugh looked into a pair of splendid black eyes, eyes of midnight darkness, exquisitely lashed, gems in a face of haughty loveliness under a coronet of raven hair. Heavy-lidded and languorous, they aroused in him a faint uneasiness, fear of he knew not what.

"Fled?" he heard himself croak.

"They fled from your swords," answered the wonderful voice.

Hugh rubbed his eyes with the back of a mailed glove and looked about him. Matteo was riding towards them, escorting the lady's companion. Ralph was leading the pack-horse across the clearing as unconcerned as if their journey had not been interrupted, stopping now and then to retrieve his arrows from the bodies that littered the ground in front of the shrine. Of living outlaws there was not a trace. The survivors of the band had melted into the forest.

"From our swords?" repeated Hugh. "Yet----" he broke off and called to Matteo--"what make you of our victory?"

"'Twas a good fight, Hugh, and we won; but there ride certain allies who contributed in some measure, or I guess wrongly."

He pointed up the cross-road. The westering sun shone full upon a great foison of spears, pennoned and unpennoned, that blocked it like a moving hedge.

"Who are they?" asked Hugh in bewilderment.

Matteo shrugged his shoulders.

"I know not. Spears of destiny, mayhap. In sooth, a mighty company."