The Brethren Page 4

  Chapter Two: Sir Andew D'Arcy

  Godwin dreamed that he was dead, and that beneath him floatedthe world, a glowing ball, while he was borne to and fro throughthe blackness, stretched upon a couch of ebony. There were brightwatchers by his couch also, watchers twain, and he knew them forhis guardian angels, given him at birth. Moreover, now and againpresences would come and question the watchers who sat at hishead and foot. One asked:

  "Has this soul sinned?" And the angel at his head answered:

  "It has sinned."

  Again the voice asked: "Did it die shriven of its sins?"

  The angel answered: "It died unshriven, red sword aloft, fightinga good fight."

  "Fighting for the Cross of Christ?"

  "Nay; fighting for a woman."

  "Alas! poor soul, sinful and unshriven, who died fighting for awoman's love. How shall such a one find mercy?" wailed thequestioning voice, growing ever fainter, till it was lost far,far away.

  Now came another visitor. It was his father--the warrior sirewhom he had never seen, who fell in Syria. Godwin knew him well,for the face was the face carven on the tomb in Stangate church,and he wore the blood-red cross upon his mail, and the D'ArcyDeath's-head was on his shield, and in his hand shone a nakedsword.

  "Is this the soul of my son?" he asked of the whiterobedwatchers. "If so, how died he?"

  Then the angel at his foot answered: "He died, red sword aloft,fighting a good fight."

  "Fighting for the Cross of Christ?"

  "Nay; fighting for a woman."

  "Fighting for a woman's love who should have fallen in the HolyWar? Alas! poor son; alas! poor son! Alas! that we must partagain forever!" and his voice, too, passed away.

  Lo! a Glory advanced through the blackness, and the angels athead and foot stood up and saluted with their flaming spears.

  "How died this child of God?" asked a voice, speaking out of theGlory, a low and awful voice.

  "He died by the sword," answered the angel.

  "By the sword of the children of the enemy, fighting in the warof Heaven?"

  Then the angels were silent.

  "What has Heaven to do with him, if he fought not for Heaven?"asked the voice again.

  "Let him be spared," pleaded the guardians, "who was young andbrave, and knew not. Send him back to earth, there to retrievehis sins and be our charge once more."

  "So be it," said the voice. "Knight, live on, but live as a knightof Heaven if thou wouldst win Heaven."

  "Must he then put the woman from him?" asked the angels.

  "It was not said," answered the voice speaking from the Glory.And all that wild vision vanished.

  Then a space of oblivion, and Godwin awoke to hear other voicesaround him, voices human, well-beloved, remembered; and to see aface bending over him--a face most human, most well-beloved, mostremembered--that of his cousin Rosamund. He babbled somequestions, but they brought him food, and told him to sleep, sohe slept. Thus it went on, waking and sleep, sleep and waking,till at length one morning he woke up truly in the little roomthat opened out of the solar or sitting place of the Hall ofSteeple, where he and Wulf had slept since their uncle took themto his home as infants. More, on the trestle bed opposite to him,his leg and arm bandaged, and a crutch by his side, sat Wulfhimself, somewhat paler and thinner than of yore, but the samejovial, careless, yet at times fierce-faced Wulf.

  "Do I still dream, my brother, or is it you indeed?"

  A happy smile spread upon the face of Wulf, for now he knew thatGodwin was himself again.

  "Me sure enough," he answered. "Dream-folk don't have lame legs;they are the gifts of swords and men."

  "And Rosamund? What of Rosamund? Did the grey horse swim thecreek, and how came we here? Tell me quick--I faint for news!"

  "She shall tell you herself." And hobbling to the curtained door,he called, "Rosamund, my--nay, our--cousin Rosamund, Godwin ishimself again. Hear you, Godwin is himself again, and would speakwith you!"

  There was a swift rustle of robes and a sound of quick feet amongthe rushes that strewed the floor, and then--Rosamund herself,lovely as ever, but all her stateliness forgot in joy. She sawhim, the gaunt Godwin sitting up upon the pallet, his grey eyesshining in the white and sunken face. For Godwin's eyes weregrey, while Wulf's were blue, the only difference between themwhich a stranger would note, although in truth Wulf's lips werefuller than Godwin's, and his chin more marked; also he was alarger man. She saw him, and with a little cry of delight ran andcast her arms about him, and kissed him on the brow.

  "Be careful," said Wulf roughly, turning his head aside, "or,Rosamund, you will loose the bandages, and bring his trouble backagain; he has had enough of blood-letting."

  "Then I will kiss him on the hand--the hand that saved me," shesaid, and did so. More, she pressed that poor, pale hand againsther heart.

  "Mine had something to do with that business also but I don'tremember that you kissed it, Rosamund. Well, I will kiss him too,and oh! God be praised, and the holy Virgin, and the holy Peter,and the holy Chad, and all the other holy dead folk whose names Ican't recall, who between them, with the help of Rosamund here,and the prayers of the Prior John and brethren at Stangate, andof Matthew, the village priest, have given you back to us, mybrother, my most beloved brother." And he hopped to the bedside,and throwing his long, sinewy arms about Godwin embraced himagain and again.

  "Be careful," said Rosamund drily, "or, Wulf, you will disturbthe bandages, and he has had enough of blood-letting."

  Then before he could answer, which he seemed minded to do, therecame the sound of a slow step, and swinging the curtain aside, atall and noble-looking knight entered the little place. The manwas old, but looked older than he was, for sorrow and sicknesshad wasted him. His snow-white hair hung upon his shoulders, hisface was pale, and his features were pinched butfinely-chiselled, and notwithstanding the difference of theiryears, wonderfully like to those of the daughter Rosamund. Forthis was her father, the famous lord, Sir Andrew D'Arcy.

  Rosamund turned and bent the knee to him with a strange andEastern grace, while Wulf bowed his head, and Godwin, since hisneck was too stiff to stir, held up his hand in greeting. The oldman looked at him, and there was pride in his eye.

  "So you will live after all, my nephew," he said, "and for that Ithank the giver of life and death, since by God, you are agallant man--a worthy child of the bloods of the Norman D'Arcyand of Uluin the Saxon. Yes, one of the best of them."

  "Speak not so, my uncle," said Godwin; "or at least, here is aworthier,"--and he patted the hand of Wulf with his leanfingers. "It was Wulf who bore me through. Oh, I remember as muchas that--how he lifted me onto the black horse and bade me tocling fast to mane and pommel. Ay, and I remember the charge, andhis cry of 'Contre D'Arcy, contre Mort!' and the flashing ofswords about us, and after that--nothing."

  "Would that I had been there to help in that fight," said SirAndrew D'Arcy, tossing his white hair. "Oh, my children, it ishard to be sick and old. A log am I--naught but a rotting log.Still, had I only known--"

  "Father, father," said Rosamund, casting her white arm abouthis neck. "You should not speak thus. You have done your share."

  "Yes, my share; but I should like to do more. Oh, St. Andrew,ask it for me that I may die with sword aloft and my grandsire'scry upon my lips. Yes, yes; thus, not like a worn-out war-horsein his stall. There, pardon me; but in truth, my children, I amjealous of you. Why, when I found you lying in each other's armsI could have wept for rage to think that such a fray had beenwithin a league of my own doors and I not in it."

  "I know nothing of all that story," said Godwin.

  "No, in truth, how can you, who have been senseless this month ormore? But Rosamund knows, and she shall tell it you. Speak on,Rosamund. Lay you back, Godwin, and listen."

  "The tale is yours, my cousins, and not mine," said Rosamund."You bade me take the water, and into it I spurred the greyhorse, and we sank deep, so that the waves closed above my head.Then up we came, I fl
oating from the saddle, but I regained it,and the horse answered to my voice and bridle, and swam out forthe further shore. On it swam, somewhat slantwise with the tide,so that by turning my head I could see all that passed upon themole. I saw them come at you, and men fall before your swords; Isaw you charge them, and run back again. Lastly, after whatseemed a very long while, when I was far away, I saw Wulf liftGodwin into the saddle--I knew it must be Godwin, because he sethim on the black horse--and the pair of you galloped down thequay and vanished.

  "By then I was near the home shore, and the grey grew very wearyand sank deep in the water. But I cheered it on with my voice,and although twice its head went beneath the waves, in the end itfound a footing, though a soft one. After resting awhile, itplunged forward with short rushes through the mud, and so atlength came safe to land, where it stood shaking with fear andweariness. So soon as the horse got its breath again, I pressedon, for I saw them loosing the boat, and came home here as thedark closed in, to meet your uncle watching for me at the gate.Now, father, do you take up the tale."

  "There is little more to tell," said Sir Andrew. "You willremember, nephews, that I was against this ride of Rosamund's toseek flowers, or I know not what, at St. Peter's shrine, ninemiles away, but as the maid had set her heart on it, and thereare but few pleasures here, why, I let her go with the pair ofyou for escort. You will mind also that you were startingwithout your mail, and how foolish you thought me when I calledyou back and made you gird it on. Well, my patron saint--oryours--put it into my head to do so, for had it not been forthose same shirts of mail, you were both of you dead men to-day.But that morning I had been thinking of Sir Hugh Lozelle--ifsuch a false, pirate rogue can be called a knight, not but thathe is stout and brave enough--and his threats after he recoveredfrom the wound you gave him, Godwin; how that he would come backand take your cousin for all we could do to stay him. True, weheard that he had sailed for the East to war against Saladin--orwith him, for he was ever a traitor--but even if this were so,men return from the East. Therefore I bade you arm, having someforesight of what was to come, for doubtless this onslaught musthave been planned by him."

  "I think so," said Wulf, "for, as Rosamund here knows, the tallknave who interpreted for the foreigner whom he called hismaster, gave us the name of the knight Lozelle as the man whosought to carry her off."

  "Was this master a Saracen?" asked Sir Andrew, anxiously.

  "Nay, uncle, how can I tell, seeing that his face was masked likethe rest and he spoke through an interpreter? But I pray you goon with the story, which Godwin has not heard."

  "It is short. When Rosamund told her tale of which I could makelittle, for the girl was crazed with grief and cold and fear,save that you had been attacked upon the old quay, and she hadescaped by swimming Death Creek--which seemed a thingincredible--I got together what men I could. Then bidding herstay behind, with some of them to guard her, and nurse herself,which she was loth to do, I set out to find you or your bodies.It was dark, but we rode hard, having lanterns with us, as wewent rousing men at every stead, until we came to where the roadsjoin at Moats. There we found a black horse--your horse,Godwin--so badly wounded that he could travel no further, and Igroaned, thinking that you were dead. Still we went on, till weheard another horse whinny, and presently found the roan alsoriderless, standing by the path-side with his head down.

  "'A man on the ground holds him!' cried one, and I sprang fromthe saddle to see who it might be, to find that it was you, thepair of you, locked in each other's arms and senseless, if notdead, as well you might be from your wounds. I bade thecountry-folk cover you up and carry you home, and others to runto Stangate and pray the Prior and the monk Stephen, who is adoctor, come at once to tend you, while we pressed onwards totake vengeance if we could. We reached the quay upon the creek,but there we found nothing save some bloodstains and--this isstrange--your sword, Godwin, the hilt set between two stones, andon the point a writing."

  "What was the writing?" asked Godwin.

  "Here it is," answered his uncle, drawing a piece of parchmentfrom his robe. "Read it, one of you, since all of you arescholars and my eyes are bad."

  Rosamund took it and read what was written, hurriedly but in aclerkly hand, and in the French tongue. It ran thus: "The sword ofa brave man. Bury it with him if he be dead, and give it back tohim if he lives, as I hope. My master would wish me to do thishonour to a gallant foe whom in that case he still may meet.(Signed) Hugh Lozelle, or Another."

  "Another, then; not Hugh Lozelle," said Godwin, "since he cannotwrite, and if he could, would never pen words so knightly."

  "The words may be knightly, but the writer's deeds were baseenough," replied Sir Andrew; "nor, in truth do I understand thisscroll."

  "The interpreter spoke of the short man as his master," suggestedWulf.

  "Ay, nephew; but him you met. This writing speaks of a masterwhom Godwin may meet, and who would wish the writer to pay him acertain honour."

  "Perhaps he wrote thus to blind us."

  "Perchance, perchance. The matter puzzles me. Moreover, of whomthese men were I have been able to learn nothing. A boat was seenpassing towards Bradwell--indeed, it seems that you saw it, andthat night a boat was seen sailing southwards down St. Peter'ssands towards a ship that had anchored off Foulness Point. Butwhat that ship was, whence she came, and whither she went, noneknow, though the tidings of this fray have made some stir."

  "Well," said Wulf, "at the least we have seen the last of hercrew of women-thieves. Had they meant more mischief, they wouldhave shown themselves again ere now."

  Sir Andrew looked grave as he answered.

  "So I trust, but all the tale is very strange. How came they toknow that you and Rosamund were riding that day to St.Peter's-on-the-Wall, and so were able to waylay you? Surely somespy must have warned them, since that they were no common piratesis evident, for they spoke of Lozelle, and bade you two begoneunharmed, as it was Rosamund whom they needed. Also, there is thematter of the sword that fell from the hand of Godwin when he washurt, which was returned in so strange a fashion. I have knownmany such deeds of chivalry done in the East by Paynim men--"

  "Well, Rosamund is half an Eastern," broke in Wulf carelessly;"and perhaps that had something to do with it all."

  Sir Andrew started, and the colour rose to his pale face. Then ina tone in which he showed he wished to speak no more of thismatter, he said:

  "Enough, enough. Godwin is very weak, and grows weary, and beforeI leave him I have a word to say that it may please you both tohear. Young men, you are of my blood, the nearest to it exceptRosamund--the sons of that noble knight, my brother. I have everloved you well, and been proud of you, but if this was so in thepast, how much more is it thus to-day, when you have done suchhigh service to my house? Moreover, that deed was brave andgreat; nothing more knightly has been told of in Essex this manya year, and those who wrought it should no longer be simplegentlemen, but very knights. This boon it is in my power to grantto you according to the ancient custom. Still, that none mayquestion it, while you lay sick, but after it was believed thatGodwin would live, which at first we scarcely dared to hope, Ijourneyed to London and sought audience of our lord the king.Having told him this tale, I prayed him that he would be pleasedto grant me his command in writing that I should name youknights.

  "My nephews, he was so pleased, and here I have the brief sealedwith the royal signet, commanding that in his name and my own Ishould give you the accolade publicly in the church of the Prioryat Stangate at such season as may be convenient. Therefore,Godwin, the squire, haste you to get well that you may become SirGodwin the knight; for you, Wulf, save for the hurt to your leg,are well enough already."

  Now Godwin's white face went red with pride, and Wulf dropped hisbold eyes and looked modest as a girl.

  "Speak you," he said to his brother, "for my tongue is blunt andawkward."

  "Sir," said Godwin in a weak voice, "we do not know how to thankyou for so great an honour, that we never thought to
win till wehad done more famous deeds than the beating off of a band ofrobbers. Sir, we have no more to say, save that while we live wewill strive to be worthy of our name and of you."

  "Well spoken," said his uncle, adding as though to himself, "thisman is courtly as he is brave."

  Wulf looked up, a flash of merriment upon his open face.

  "I, my uncle, whose speech is, I fear me, not courtly, thank youalso. I will add that I think our lady cousin here should beknighted too, if such a thing were possible for a woman, seeingthat to swim a horse across Death Creek was a greater deed thanto fight some rascals on its quay."

  "Rosamund?" answered the old man in the same dreamy voice. "Herrank is high enough--too high, far too high for safety." Andturning, he left the little chamber.

  "Well, cousin," said Wulf, "if you cannot be a knight, at leastyou can lessen all this dangerous rank of yours by becoming aknight's wife." Whereat Rosamund looked at him with indignationwhich struggled with a smile in her dark eyes, and murmuring thatshe must see to the making of Godwin's broth, followed her fatherfrom the place.

  "It would have been kinder had she told us that she was glad,"said Wulf when she was gone.

  "Perhaps she would," answered his brother, "had it not been foryour rough jests, Wulf, which might have a meaning in them."

  "Nay, I had no meaning. Why should she not become a knight'swife?"

  "Ay, but what knight's? Would it please either of us, brother,if, as may well chance, he should be some stranger?"

  Now Wulf swore a great oath, then flushed to the roots of hisfair hair, and was silent.

  "Ah!" said Godwin; "you do not think before you speak, which itis always well to do."

  "She swore upon the quay yonder"--broke in Wulf.

  "Forget what she swore. Words uttered in such an hour should notbe remembered against a maid."

  "God's truth, brother, you are right, as ever! My tongue runsaway with me, but still I can't put those words out of my mind,though which of us--"

  "Wulf!"

  "I mean to say that we are in Fortune's path to-day, Godwin. Oh,that was a lucky ride! Such fighting as I have never seen ordreamed of. We won it too! And now both of us are alive, and aknighthood for each!"

  "Yes, both of us alive, thanks to you, Wulf--nay, it is so,though you would never have done less. But as for Fortune's path,it is one that has many rough turns, and perhaps before all isdone she may lead us round some of them."

  "You talk like a priest, not like a squire who is to be knightedat the cost of a scar on his head. For my part I will kissFortune while I may, and if she jilts me afterwards--"

  "Wulf," called Rosamund from without the curtain, "ceasetalking of kissing at the top of your voice, I pray you, andleave Godwin to sleep, for he needs it." And she entered thelittle chamber, bearing a bowl of broth in her hand.

  Thereon, saying that ladies should not listen to what did notconcern them, Wulf seized his crutch and hobbled from the place.