The Life And Death Of Richard Yea And Nay Volume 91 by Maurice Hewlett (free books to read .txt) 📕

He Would Do Was Snap His Fingers, The Reins Dangling Loose, And Cry To

The Empty Night, 'Hue, Brock, Hue!' As If He Was Baiting A Badger. This

Badger Was The Heir To His Crown And Dignity.

In The Dark Tower They Heard Him Coming Three Miles Away. Roussillon Was

On The Battlements, And Came Down To Report Horsemen On The Plain.

'Lights Out,' Said Richard, And Gave Jehane A Kiss As He Set Her Down.

They Blew Out All The Lights, And Stood Two To Each Door; No One Spoke

Any More. Jehane Sat By The Darkened Fire With A Torch In Her Hand,

Ready To Light It When She Was Bid.

Thus When The Normans Drew Near They Found The Tower True To Its Name,

Without A Glimmer Of Light. 'Let Alone For That,' Said The King, Whose

Grating Voice They Heard Above All The Others; 'Very Soon We Will Have A

Fire.' He Sent Some Of His Men To Gather Brushwood, Ling, And Dead

Bracken; Meantime He Began To Beat At The Door With His Axe, Crying Like

A Madman, 'Richard! Richard! Thou Graceless Wretch, Come Out Of Thy

Hold.'

Presently A Little Window-Casement Opened Above Him; Gaston Of Béarn

Poked Out His Head.

'Beau Sire,' He Says, 'What Entertainment Is This For The Count Your

Son?'

'No Son Of Mine, By The Face!' Cried The King. 'Let That Woman I Have

Caged At Home Answer For Him, Who Defies Me For Ever. Let Me In, Thou

Sickly Dog.'

Gaston Said, 'Beau Sire, You Shall Come In If You Will, And If You Come

In Peace.'

Says The King, 'I Will Come In, By God, And As I Will.'

'Foul Request, King,' Said Gaston, And Shut The Window.

'Have It As You Will; It Shall Be Foul By And By,' The King Shouted To

The Night. He Bid Them Fire The Place.

To Be Short, They Heaped A Wood-Stack Before The Door And Set It Ablaze.

The Crackling, The Tossed Flames, The Leaping Light, Made The King

Drunk. He And His Companions Began Capering About The Fire With Linked

Arms, Hounding Each Other On With The Cries Of Countrymen Who Draw A

Badger--'Loo, Loo, Vixen! Slip In, Lass! Hue, Brock, Hue, Hue!' And

Similar Gross Noises, Until For Very Shame Gilles And His Kindred Drew

Apart, Saying To Each Other, 'We Have Let All Hell Loose, Legion And His

Minions.' So The Two Companies, The Grievous And The Aggrieved, Were

Separate; And Richard, Seeing This State Of The Case, Took Roussillon

And Béziers Out By The Other Door, Got Behind The Dancers, Attacked

Suddenly, And Drove Three Of Them Into The Fire. 'There,' Says The

Chronicler, 'The Butcher Sir Rolf Got A Taste Of His Everlasting

Torments, There Fitzreinfrid Lay And Charred; There Ponce Of Caen, Ill

Born, Made A Foul Smoke As Became Him.' Turning To Go In Again, The

Three Were Confronted With The Norman Segregates. Great Work Ensued By

The Light Of The Fire. Gilles The Elder Was Slain With An Axe, And If

With An Axe, Then Richard Slew Him, For He Alone Was So Armed. Gilles

The Younger Was Wounded In The Thigh, But That Was Roussillon's Work;

His Brother Bartholomew Was Killed By The Same Terrific Hitter; Béziers

Lost A Finger Of His Sword Hand, And Indeed The Three Barely Got In With

Their Lives. The Old King Set Up Howling Like A Wolf In Famine At This

Loss; What Comforted Him Was That The Fire Had Eaten Up The Southern

Door And Disclosed The Entry Of The Tower--Jehane Holding Up A Torch,

And Before Her Gaston, Richard, And Bertram Of Roussillon, Their Shields

Hiding Their Breasts.

'Lords,' Said Richard, 'We Await Your Leisures.' None Cared To Attack:

There Was The Fire To Cross, And In That Narrow Entry Three Desperate

Blades. What Could The Old King Do? He Threatened Hell And Death, He

Cursed His Son More Dreadfully, And (You May Take It) With Far Less

Reason, Than Almighty God Cursed Sodom And Gomorrah, Cities Of The

Plain; But Richard Made No Answer, And When, Quite Beside Himself, The

Old Man Leaped The Fire And Came Hideously On To The Swords, The Points

Dropped At His Son's Direction. Almost Crying, The King Turned To His

Followers. 'Taillefer, Will You See Me Dishonoured? Where Is Ponthieu?

Where Is Drago?' So At Last They All Attacked Together, Coming On With

Their Shields Before Them, In A Phalanx. This Was A Device That Needs

Must Fail; They Could Not Drive A Wedge Where They Could Not Get In The

Point. The Three Defending Shields Were Locked In The Entry. Two Men

Fell At The First Assault, And Richard's Terrible Axe Crashed Into

Perceforest's Skull And Scattered His Brains Wide. Red And Breathless

Work As It Was, It Was Not Long Adoing. The King Was Dismayed At The

Killing Of Perceforest, And Dared Risk No More Lives At Such Long Odds.

'Fire The Other Door, Drago,' He Said Grimly. 'We'll Have The Place Down

Upon Them.' The Normans Were Set To Engage The Three While Others Went

To Find Fuel.

The Viscount Of Béziers Had Had His Hand Dressed By Jehane, And Was Now

Able To Take His Turn. It Was By A Ruse Of His That Richard Got Away

Without A Life Lost. With Jehane To Help Him, He Got The Horses Trapped

And Housed. 'Now, Richard,' He Said, 'Listen To My Proposals. I Am Going

To Open The North Door And Make Away Before They Fire It. I Shall Have

Half Of Them After Me As I Reckon; But Whereas I Shall Have A Good Start

On A Fresh Horse, I Doubt Not Of Escape. Do You Manage The Rest: There

Will Be Three Of You.'

Richard Approved. 'Go, Raimon,' He Said. 'We Will Join You On The Edge

Of The Plain.'

This Was Done. Jehane, When Béziers Was Ready, Flung Open The Door. Out

He Shot Like A Bolt, And She Shut It Behind Him. The Old King Got Wind

Of Him, Spurred Off With Five Or Six At His Heels, Such As Happened To

Be Mounted. Richard Fell Back From The Entry, Got Out His Horse, And

Came Forward. As He Came He Stooped And Picked Up Jehane, Who, With A

Quick Nestling Movement, Settled Into His Shield Arm. Roussillon And

Gaston In Like Manner Got Their Horses; Then At A Signal They Drove Out

Of The Tower Into The Midst Of The Normans. There Was A Wild Scuffle.

Richard Got A Side Blow On The Knee, But In Return He Caught Drago De

Merlou Under The Armpit And Well-Nigh Cut Him In Half. Taillefer And

Gilles De Gurdun Set Upon Him Together, And One Of Them Wounded Him In

The Shoulder. But Taillefer Got More Than He Gave, For He Fell Almost As

He Delivered His Blow, And Broke His Jaw Against A Rock. As For Gurdun,

Richard Hurtled Full Into Him, Bore Him Backwards, And Threw Him Also.

Jehane Safe In Arms, He Rode Over Him Where He Lay. But Lastly, Pounding

Through The Tussocks In The Faint Grey Light, He Met His Father Charging

Full Upon Him, Intent To Cut Him Off. 'Avoid Me, Father,' He Cried Out.

'By God,' Said The King, 'I Will Not. I Am For You, Traitorous Beast.'

They Came Together, And Richard Heard The Old Man's Breath Roaring Like

A Foundered Horse's. He Held His Sword Arm Out Stiffly To Parry The

Blow. The King's Sword Shivered And Fell Harmless As Richard Shot By

Him. Turning As He Rode (To Be Sure He Had Done Him No More Hurt), He

Saw The Wicked Grey Face Of His Father Cursing Him Beyond Redemption;

And That Was The Last Living Sight Of It He Had.

They Got Clean Away Without The Loss Of A Man Of Theirs, Reached The

Lands Of The Count Of Perche, And There Found A Company Of Sixty Knights

Come Out To Look For Richard. With Them He Rode Down Through Maine To Le

Mans, Which Had Fallen, And Now Held The French King. Richard's

Triumphant Humour Carried Him Strange Lengths. As They Came Near To The

Gates Of Le Mans, 'Now,' He Said, 'They Shall See Me, Like A Pious

Knight, Bear My Holy Banner Before Me.' He Made Jehane Stand Up In The

Saddle In Front Of Him; He Held Her There Firmly By One Long Arm. So He

Rode In The Midst Of His Knights Through The Thronged Streets To The

Church Of Saint-Julien, Jehane Saint-Pol Pillared Before Him Like A

Saint. The French King Made Much Of Him, And To Jehane Was Respectful.

Prince John Was There, The Duke Of Burgundy, The Dauphin Of Auvergne,

All The Great Men. To Richard Was Given The Bishop's House; Jehane

Stayed With The Canonesses Of Prémonstre. But He Saw Her Every Day.

Well May The Respectable Abbot Milo Despond Over This Affair. Hear Him,

And Conceive How He Shook His Head. 'O Too Great Power Of Princes,' He

Writes, 'Lodged In A Room Too Frail! O Wagging Bladder That Serves As

Cushion For A Crown! O Swayed By Idle Breath, Seeming God That Yet Is A

Man, Man Driven By Windy Passion, That Has Yet To Ape The God's Estate!

Because Richard Craved This French Girl, Therefore He Must Take Her, As

It Were, From The Lap Of Her Mother. Because He Taught Her His Nobility,

Which Is The Mere Wind In A Prince's Nose, She Taught Him Nobility

Again. Then Because A Prince Must Not Be Less Noble Than His Nobles (But

Always _Primus Inter Pares_), He, Seeing Her Nobly Disposed, Gave Her

Over To A Man Of Her Own Choosing; And Immediately After, Unable To Bear

It That A Common Person Should Have What He Had Touched, Took Her Away

Again, Doing Slaughter To Get Her, To Say Nothing Of Outrage In The

Church. Last Of All, As You Are Now To Hear, Thinking That Too Much

Handling Was Dishonour To The Thin Vessel Of Her Body, Touched On The

Generous Spot, He Made Bad Worse; He Added Folly To Force; He Made A

Marriage Where None Could Be; He Made Immortal Enmities, Blocked Up

Appointed