FOR SOME HALF SMILED AND HID THEIR SMILES AS BEST THEY COULD
FOR SOME HALF SMILED AND HID THEIR SMILES AS BEST THEY COULD
FOR SOME HALF SMILED AND HID THEIR SMILES AS BEST THEY COULD
"Boy," said the King sternly, "hast no respect for them that be appointed to sit in high places, nor awe before an anointed King?"
"Yea, sire," answered Louis, marveling.
"Dost come before my throne with slanderous tales of one on whom I lean heavily and lovingly?"
"Sire," he said bravely, "thou dost not know his cruel deeds. He hath robbed and killed to the sickening of the heart."
"Mayhap," said the King, "but he hath carried all before him with great success,and so is the case altered. 'Tis a man of whom we have great need, and the young should not speak ill of older folk."
Then Louis of Lamont said never a word, but rose to his feet staggering, for the knowledge he had gained of men came as hard blows about the ears, and bending low, he turned away.
"Stay!" cried the King. "Thy offense is great: thou hast spoken ill of a public benefactor, yet if thou wilt hold thy tongue, nor repeat thy silly tales, I will make thee one of my courtiers, and thou shalt go brave in velvet and in jewels."
But the youth shook his head and went forth alone from the presence-chamber; all looked after him, with smiles and jeers and whispered words of scorn.
"'Sdeath!" cried the King. "'Tis a madman fit but for a dungeon, yet, for the sake of my old friend, Guy of Lamont, can I not cast him there."
The lad groped his way unevenly down the marble steps of the palace as one gropes in a path that is full of pitfalls and has suddenly grown dark, and he wandered, not knowing where, through the dark streets, until he found himself in the square before the great cathedral. Here many were passing with hands full of flowers, red roses and tall white lilies and blue blossoms that grow pale among the wheat, for it was the feast day of a saint, and they went to deck the altar which stood within unfinished walls, that men might worship there under the blue sky.
"I will tell them," said the lad; so he stood upon the cathedral steps and repeated all the tale, and blossoms red and blossoms white were dropped at his feet, as men and women clustered about to hear.
"Ay!" they cried out, "we go hungry for this man, but who shall deliver us from him? Horses and armor could we find, perchance. Wilt lead us to him?"
Then of a sudden he smiled, and ceased speaking because of the choking in his throat; but after, he took up the tale and told it in the market-place and before the Palace of Justice and wherever he could gather folk together.
As days passed, all this came to the ears of the King and of the Bishop and of the nobles of the court, and gravehead met with grave head, and both were shaken solemnly in conference over this new peril which threatened the kingdom. One morn there went throughout the city a crier, who called aloud and read from a parchment in his hand to let men know that Louis of Lamont, son of Sir Guy, was cast out from Holy Church for slander of one of her greatest sons. Henceforward no man should give him shelter, no woman food or drink, lest they too come under the ban; and should he speak future evil words, his life would be forfeit.
Yet one who loved him—and there were many—hid him; and the next day and the next he wandered in the streets, begging men to rise in vengeance against the Robber Chief. On the third day hewas taken by armed men, and the decree went forth that Louis of Lamont should, after three days, be burned at the stake in the square of the Palace of Justice. The youth smiled when he heard his doom; almost he was glad to escape from a world which he had not logic enough to understand.
So the day came when he should die, and it was a Friday of midsummer. In the centre of the square stood an iron post to which criminals were wont to be tied, and to this they bound him. Close about him were heaped fagots of wood and dried branches, and within he stood in a motley garment, and the look upon his face was as the coming of the day. All about was a great press of people, merchant andbutcher and cloth-spinner, and peasant folk from the country round; and on a dais, built high for better seeing, were knights and ladies and nobles of the court, with the King himself, and the Gentle Robber at his side, trimly clad in sober gray and gently smiling.
It was a soft day of golden sun, and the sky was blue above the place, and the least wind sighed softly as if for pity as it breathed about the iron stake and played with the yellow locks of the young Squire's hair and moved the red folds of the shameful garment that they had placed upon him. Lifting his face, he leaned his cheek against the wind, for it seemed to him a breeze that had played among the beech leaves in the ancient forest by his father'shall, and in taking leave of it he said farewell to his hound and to the woodland paths and to his father's face.
Now came a ghostly father, with a torch that flamed backward against the blue day, and in the name of God and Holy Church he bent and kindled the fagots. Then was there quick tumult and rush and stir through the square, for all rushed forward to see and to hear, and little maids were sorely trampled in the press by the great feet of smith and of husbandman, and women's aprons were badly torn. None cared, for all knew that saving grace was to be won for their own souls if their eyes but caught a glimpse of an heretic that was being burned to death, and when the fire leaped high into the air, they gaveGod thanks. There was a flame in the young martyr's face that was not as the flame that leaped about him; but smoke and fire were speedy with their work, and his head bent over his breast, his body over the chain that bound him, and as his soul went free, folk breathed deeply in relief, saying that an evil-doer was dead. Upon the dais the King's broad face showed satisfaction; the Bishop lifted his eyes to heaven, thanking God, then let them rest on the gray stone walls of the cathedral, glad that now naught should prevent the walls of God's house from rising. In all the great crowd, none other was so devout and so thankful as the Gentle Robber, and his mild blue eyes were moist with tears as he whispered to the King:—
"'Tis marvelous, the ways by which Providence brings evil-doers to justice; ever the right prevails."
A GLIMPSE OF AN HERETIC BEING BURNED TO DEATH
A GLIMPSE OF AN HERETIC BEING BURNED TO DEATH
A GLIMPSE OF AN HERETIC BEING BURNED TO DEATH
Then all went to the cathedral, knight, squire, and lady in velvet and in silk, the Bishop in holy robes of purple and of white, and common folk in blue jean and plain linen, that special service might be held in praise for this great deliverance, and theTe Deumsung.
The Riverside Press
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Transcriber Notes:Throughout the dialogues, there were words used to mimic accents of the speakers. Those words were retained as-is.The illustrations have been moved so that they do not break up paragraphs and so that they are next to the text they illustrate.Errors in punctuations and inconsistent hyphenation were not corrected unless otherwise noted.On page 97, a single quotation mark was replaced with a double quotation mark.
Throughout the dialogues, there were words used to mimic accents of the speakers. Those words were retained as-is.
The illustrations have been moved so that they do not break up paragraphs and so that they are next to the text they illustrate.
Errors in punctuations and inconsistent hyphenation were not corrected unless otherwise noted.
On page 97, a single quotation mark was replaced with a double quotation mark.