CHAPTER XIITHE JOURNEY PERILOUS
LONG before the grey morn began to dawn Redward and his son had covered a couple of leagues, and were at the foot of a long range of hills. Slowly they began the ascent, and, ere the summit was reached, the light was sufficient for them to see their grotesque and horrible garb.
"A safe disguise," exclaimed Raymond, "yet right glad will I be when we can doff these garments."
"A safe disguise enough, should the barber not play us false," replied his father. "I liked not his looks, though I trow he is in no ways to blame for the cut of his face."
"But dost think that he will play us false?"
"'Tis not unlikely; so the more leagues we place between us and St. Brieuc the better. Canst get at thy sword-hilt?"
"Not easily. Wherefore dost thou ask?"
"Danger might come apace and at any time. See, I have cut a slit in my gown so that I can grasp my sword without delay. I pray thee do likewise."
On the brow of the first hill was a long farmstead, sheltered more or less by a clump of stunted pine-trees. Behind the house was an orchard, its branches laden with fruit, while amongst the trees were several cows, their heads tethered to their forefeet, after the manner of those parts, so that the animals could not tear down the branches of the fruit-trees.
"A sight to gladden the eyes of an old campaigner!" exclaimed the master-bowman, and, taking his steel cap from beneath his cowl, he stole cautiously towards the cattle, Raymond waiting behind a sheltering tree.
With the deftness born of old experience Redward did his work, and soon returned with his casque filled to the brim with warm milk. Having drunk their fill, the travellers helped themselves to a bounteous supply of fruit, and proceeded on their way, the fruit, together with some dry bread they had brought with them, making a passable breakfast.
At the bottom of the hill they entered a small village. Although still early, most of the inhabitants were astir, and the Englishmen had their first experience of the efficacy of their disguise. For directly they rattled their barillets the villagers ran hither and thither to avoid the supposed sufferers, save a horseman and an old woman. The former passed them at a distance of a few paces, throwing them a couple of deniers. With his usual presence of mind Redward stooped, picked up the coins, and louted to the donor. The woman threw them a rusk loaf, and this was caught and quickly concealed beneath the sheltering cloaks.
Once clear of the village they mended their pace, and, with the exception of a pair of shepherds, and a peasant clattering along in his heavy sabots, not a soul did they meet till close on midday, when the travellers arrived at a cross-road, where the monotony of the outlook was broken by four avenues of trees.
"I would fain have rested here awhile," exclaimed Redward. "But with that for company methinks we shall do better if we get about a bow-shot further on!"
"A corpse?"
"Ay, lad; a malefactor hanged close to the scene of his crime. See, already the crows have begun their work."
With averted heads the twain passed the gallows; but on giving a glance down the cross-road they saw a sight that filled them with misgiving, for plodding wearily along were two figures dressed like themselves!
"Lepers, indeed!" exclaimed Redward. "My faith, they would bear us company."
Waving their arms to attract and arrest their supposed fellow-sufferers, the two grey-robed men quickened their pace, but, directly the Englishmen had gained the cover of the tree-lined road, they, too, hastened to avoid being overtaken, so that by the time the lepers had turned the corner, Raymond and his father were some distance ahead.
"We more than hold our own," quoth Redward, glancing over his shoulder. "Directly we shake them off we'll have a well-earned rest."
It was as he said. The well-knit frames of the Englishmen were vastly superior to the diseased bodies of the lepers, and long before the bottom of the hill was reached their two pursuers were but dimly visible on the dusty road.
Once again the road led upwards. Not a village was to be seen, only a vast undulating plain, unbroken except for an occasional clump of trees, while in the distance the blue outlines of a lofty range of hills showed that some stiff climbing would be necessary ere Hennebon was in sight.
An hour later and they had all but gained the ridge of the next hill. By the roadside was a heather-covered bank, while between a mass of rocks a spring gushed forth, the water making a pleasant sound in the ears of the weary travellers.
Father and son drank at the spring, then clambering over the bank, lay down on the springy heather, where, without being seen, they could command the road for nearly a league.
"'Tis quite evident that we can outpace those poor wretches," said Raymond, stretching out his limbs to their fullest extent in appreciation of his natural bed. "Here we can rest in comfort till they draw nigh; then, refreshed, we can hasten onwards once more."
For nearly an hour they remained, sleep all but claiming them. Not a word was spoken, though Redward gave an occasional grunt as he raised himself on his elbow at intervals to watch the advancing lepers.
The heat, too, was terrific, the sun beating down with fierce violence on their unprotected resting-place.
Suddenly Raymond raised himself and looked along the road they had just traversed. There were the two grey-robed figures moving slowly up the hill, but away in the distance the sun glittered upon a swiftly-moving mass of steel, followed by a thick cloud of dust.
"Soldiers!" he exclaimed.
Redward raised himself. "I like it not," he exclaimed. "They are following us. That rogue of a barber hath betrayed us. Lie low, Raymond, and let them pass; I perceive 'twill mean a journey by night for us."
Stretching side by side, and concealing their hoods with sprays of heather, father and son waited and watched. The two lepers were within two hundred paces ere they heard the thunder of the horses' hoofs behind them. With a cry of terror one of the twain turned and fled; the other, ignorant of the intentions of the pursuing horsemen, held his ground, flourishing his rattle with the vigour that danger bestowed upon him.
Like a flash the foremost soldier was upon him; a back-handed sweeping cut with his sword and the grey-robed figure was dashed to the earth, and ere his companion had come level with the spot where the Englishmen were concealed, he was transfixed by a lance-thrust and was trampled beneath the horses' hoofs.
With wild cries of exultation the troop of horsemen reined in their steeds and surveyed the result of their fell work.
"Quickly, Geoffroi! Strip those cloaks from the bodies of these accursed English and search them for concealed papers," ordered their leader. "By St. Denis, 'tis a smart piece of work, though I little thought the rogues would have died so tamely!"
The soldier addressed dismounted, handed his still reeking lance to a comrade, and bent over the corpse of the man he had slain. With a quick motion he tore aside the robe. But the next instant, uttering a shriek of terror, he jumped backwards, covering his eyes with his hands as if to ward off a blow.
"Mon Dieu!" exclaimed the captain, craning over the neck of his charger. "What have we done? They are in truth real lepers! Dolt of a barber! A curse upon Raoul de Rohein! He hath deceived us! Is it the same with the other?"
The first victim had fallen on his back, and his hood, stained with his blood, had slipped from off his head, disclosing the repulsive disease-eaten features of a man whose malady was far advanced.
"Stand back, all of you!" shouted the captain, beside himself with rage and mortification. "Stand back! Do thou, Jehan, cast thy sword and its sheath from thee lest thou die! And do thou, Geoffroi, ride fifty paces behind us, and hold communication with no man till the law respecting contagion is complied with. Now back to the town with all speed,mes enfants, for I have an account to settle with Maitre Raoul! What will they say of us when they hear we have vanquished nought but a pair of lepers?"
The troop galloped away down the dusty road towards St. Brieuc, the unfortunate soldier following in the rear, his face ashen with terror at the thought of the loathsome death he had courted, while two mottled grey corpses, a discarded sword, and the imprints of the hoofs of the cavalry alone remained to mark the scene of so swift and terrible a tragedy.
Shuddering at the thought of their narrow escape, Raymond and his father rose, and with averted faces, left behind them the bodies of the ill-fated men, and pursued their journey. Not till they were two leagues from the spot did they halt; then, selecting a secluded coppice, they threw themselves on the ground and were soon deep in dreamless slumber.
The sun had set and the stars were beginning to twinkle in the darkening sky ere the travellers awoke stiff and cramped with lying on the bare earth; but stern duty urged them onwards, and with swinging stride they resumed their way.
Along the deserted highway, past the slumbering village of Ploeue they jogged, too discomforted and weary even to engage in conversation.
About two hours after midnight they were startled by hearing the sound of horsemen behind them. Without hesitation Redward sprang to the side of the road, dragging the squire with him; then kneeling down and placing his ear to the ground he listened intently.
"'Tis but a pair of horsemen," he whispered. "See to thy sword, for there will be work afoot for us!"
The riders had now slackened down to a slow trot, and by their conversation the Englishmen recognised that one of them was an old acquaintance—none other than the Sieur d'Erqui.
"Once have we met him, and once at least hath he done us a service," muttered the bowman in a low tone. "Methinks yet another service will he render us. Now, follow me!"
Giving a tremendous salute with his rattle, Redward, with Raymond close at his heels, sprang into the road and barred the Sieur's way. Taken aback, his face livid with superstitious fear, d'Erqui reined in his steed, while his companion, evidently a retainer, did likewise.
"Dismount, monsieur, lest I lay hands on thee and thou diest a horrible death," exclaimed Redward in a sepulchral voice, relying on the cowardice of the foppish Frenchman to gain his end.
Without a word the Sieur leapt, or, rather, rolled, from the saddle and cowered down in the darkness by the roadside. Seizing the horse's bridle by the left hand, the soldier advanced towards the other horseman.
Made of sterner stuff, the latter had recovered from the first surprise, and, perceiving that he had no supernatural foes to deal with, he drew his sword and rode towards his challenger. Avoiding with ease a terrific sweep of the heavy weapon, Redward returned the blow without effect, but, ere the man could shorten his sword, the young squire rushed in, seized him round the waist and hurled him from the saddle to the ground, where he had enough reason to remain quiet.
It was the work of a moment for the Englishmen to mount the captured steeds, then, giving a parting salute to the discomforted Sieur, they pricked the horses with the points of their weapons, and urged them into a brisk canter.
"Bravely done, Raymond," exclaimed his father. "It will fare ill with us now if Hennebon sees us not by to-morrow's dawn!"
"But how can we ride in this disguise?" asked Raymond. "It is not the custom for lepers to go about on horseback."
"There is a good two hours ere daybreak, and by that time, I trow, we shall be at least five leagues from here. Then, I hope, the saints being with us, that thou wilt be the Sieur d'Erqui, and I his man!"
"The Sieur d'Erqui?"
"Yea, and why not? Thou hast played the part of the Sieur before to good purpose, and why not now? But, oh for a plentiful repast! Dry bread and apples are but a sorry meal when one is used to English beef!"
Maintaining a hot pace the travellers rode through the night; then just as day was breaking they halted, watered their horses, and, after hobbling them, turned them out to graze. They then divested themselves of their hideous cloaks and hoods, rolled the garments into a small compass, and resumed the rôle of soldiers.
About eight o'clock they arrived at the village of Pontivy, and reining-in at the inn, Redward dismounted and strode up to mine host, who saw in every armed man a spoiler, whether he were for Montfort or for Blois.
"Hark ye, garçon!" exclaimed the master-bowman, "thy best food and wine in plenty, and provender for our horses! And, as thou valuest thy hide, say not one word to my master, the worthy Sieur d'Erqui, for he is in a bad mood, and woe betide the man who addresses him!"
Their steeds were led away, and Raymond and his father were shown into the largest room of the inn, while the waiting-maids, urged by the host, bustled about preparing the meal.
Raymond did not belie the character his father had given him as the Sieur, but his reticence was due to bodily fatigue. For, while awaiting the meal, fitful sleep claimed him, but it was only to awaken with a start as his head fell forward on his chest.
Never was a repast better enjoyed, and never was the desire to sleep so irresistible, but Redward, though weary himself, was inexorable.
"Maybe swift pursuit is already at our heels," said he. "So onward we must go. Holà!" he shouted, hammering on the trestled board with his sword-hilt.
In answer to the summons the host appeared, trembling in his shoes.
"How is the army ordered before Hennebon And where shall my master find the banners of the Duke Charles?"
"Sir, report hath it that the force of Blois lieth thickest about where this road approaches the town, so, without doubt, the banners of the Duke are there."
Throwing down a coin to pay for their repast (whereat the host marvelled greatly, seeing it was not the custom of the times), Redward followed the supposed Sieur from the inn; their horses were brought round, and soon they were clattering over the pavé of the village towards the open country.
Redward glanced backwards several times to see if there were any signs of pursuit, but to his great satisfaction none could be detected.
"Thou hast heard what the rogue said the foe lie thickest along this road? Should any follow us we have laid a false scent, for I do not wish to ride straight into the camp of Blois. To that end let us turn off along the road to Aurai, and thence follow the coast to the walls of Hennebon."
Accordingly they turned aside at a cross-road, having learned from a peasant that it led to the town of Aurai. A league or so farther on they again left the road and rested in a wood, sleeping without molestation till late in the afternoon.
Darkness was drawing on as they struck the road between Hennebon and Aurai, about a bow-shot from the latter place. Avoiding the town the travellers turned towards their goal, now but a short four leagues distance.
"We must be doubly cautious, Raymond," said his father, "for methinks another troop of horsemen is approaching."
Once again they withdrew from the road, and, hiding beneath the shadow of some tall trees, they waited. Nearer and nearer came the sound, till, like a whirlwind, a large body of knights and mounted men-at-arms dashed by in the darkness, and, with a thunder of hoofs and a cloud of dust that rose slowly in the still night air, they vanished into the gloom.
"By St. George! What doth it mean?" exclaimed Raymond.
"Nay, I cannot say, save it be they of Blois fleeing from those of Montfort; every man was riding for dear life, and, mark you, with loose rein and hot spur!"
"Then onwards, father! An hour will decide whether we reach Hennebon unscathed, or have to fight our way in."
Almost before they were aware of the fact they rode right into the camp of the besiegers, but, instead of being instantly challenged and taken prisoners, it was like a progress through a city of the dead. Most of the tents were cut down, several of the temporary wooden huts still smouldered, while here and there their horses had to step aside to avoid treading on the corpse of an unarmoured man.
Still wondering at this unlooked-for sight, the Englishmen spurred on till they drew rein outside the twin towers that guarded the gate of Hennebon. A hoarse voice challenged them, and torches flickered on the battlements as the garrison stood to their arms.
"Open! We would see the Countess!" roared Redward, standing in his stirrups.
"Who are ye, and whence come ye?" was the reply.
"Messengers from the King of England."
Cries of delight greeted this announcement, the drawbridge fell with a ponderous clang, the great gates were thrown wide open, and, conscious that a great duty had been well carried out, Raymond, followed by his father, entered the town of Hennebon.