University of Virginia Library

5. CHAPTER V.
THE CHATELAINE.

The knight's new follower failed not to make his promise
good, knowing, as it was evident he did, even before the sun
set, every foot of the country through which their route lay to
the château de Verneuil; but when the daylight had quite
faded from the face of the world, and the last faint reflection
of the vanished rays had ceased to tinge the fleecy night-clouds,
it became more and more apparent how perfectly he
was acquainted with every turn and winding of the devious
roads which traversed those wild tracts of moor, morass, and
forest; for he never paused nor doubted at the carrefours, or
intersections of some six or eight long avenues, cut through
the wide expanse of underwood, with here and there a giant
tree which for the most part covered that part of the country,
but led the way at a sharp steady trot, wheeling his horse to
this hand or to that with the decided confidence of a man
acquainted thoroughly with his direction, and with the nature
of the ground. More than one large strong brook and several
rivulets crossed their path, offering in one or two cases considerable
obstacles to their proceeding; but Giles Ivernois
never hesitated even for a moment, but either leaped them
boldly, or plunged into their well-known fords undaunted. At
about nine o'clock of the evening they halted at a small way-side
tavern, embosomed in the deep woodlands, and built as it
would seem for the convenience of belated hunters, in honor
of whom it rejoiced in the name and effigy of “the Bald-faced
Stag.” This solitary house, or hovel rather — for although

neat and even picturesque in appearance, it was in size but a
very cottage, the last on this side the hamlet of Verneuil, as
the man-at-arms informed his lord — was situated something
more than seven leagues from Brussels, and not above eight
miles at farthest from the small castle toward which they were
speeding.

“The road is good henceforward, beau sire,” replied the
trooper, in answer to a question from the baron; “better than
any we have seen yet this side Brussels. This country hereabout
lies over limestone, and for the most part it is under
tillage, our horses fresh and fed, we may right easily be there
within the hour.”

“Dismount, then, all,” cried Hugues, “for we shall need
each spark of fire that we can keep alight in their keen spirits.
Ermold, see that ye get a stoup or two of red wine, and bathe
their pastern joints and fetlocks. Have we some dozen slices
of raw beef, or venison better — if there be any in the house —
cut thin, and wrap in each slice of meat one of the cordial
balls of choice medicaments, I bade you bring from Tankarville.
Give one to every destrier; see them rubbed clean and
warm; then feed them with bread steeped in red wine, and
they shall be in spirits for the road, or e'er an hour be flown,
and livelier, I warrant them, than when we rode forth from the
city-gates.”

The young esquire responded by a bow only; but Giles
Ivernois, the elder man-at-arms, made answer, relying on his
skill in horse-flesh, “Under your favor, my good lord, a clove
of garlic, pounded with a handful of ginger, were added well
to the red wine. I would, though, we had here some of that
English drink they call brown beer or ale; bread steeped in
that is the most hearty food and sovereign'st thing for jaded
steeds I ever saw or heard of. They brew it out of barley,
beau sire!”

“Ha! and what knowest thou, good fellow, of England or of
English liquors?” asked the knight, laughing at the trooper's
freedom.

“So, please you, I heard tell of it the first from an old
equerry who rode erewhile with Richard of the Lion Heart.
I met with him in Guienne, many a winter since. He called
himself a Yorkshireman, though where Yorkshire lies I know
not, were I to hang for it, but I do know he was the cunningest
and skilfulest with horses of any man I ever did consort
with. He had store of wise saws, and wondrous remedies,
and some of them I have remembered ever since, this being one
of them. I proved it once in the Black forest, when I was
chased three days with thirty lances by the bad lord of Hohen-Zollern.
They brew beer there right potent, beau sire — and
Heaven be blessed for it and the three holy kings of Cologne!
I laid it to the ale, and the old Yorkshire equerry, that I escaped
them — for I fed my good beast at every halting-place
with rye-bread soaked in that black beer, and may I never
drain a flagon any more! if he became not so fond of it, that
he would drink a stoup opp-seyes, like a stanch toper!”

“I doubt it not — I doubt it not at all,” replied De Coucy;
“but as we shall find neither English ale, nor yet black German
beer here in the forest, we must make red wine do for it;
and hark ye, Giles and Francon, though the beer suit the
horses better, I doubt not but the men will find the grape-juice
full as pleasant.”

“Never fear, good my lord,” returned the soldier, “never
fear, we will do all your biddings to the utmost, and be in time
to garrison the chateau, and save the bright young lady, and
beat the villain routiers!” and with the words he followed his
companions to the stable, whither they had already led the
horses, while Hugues, who, for the last three days had tasted
little rest, entered the inn to seek such brief refreshment as

mine host of the Bald-faced Stag might offer. Short, however,
was the period which he devoted to repose; for ere an hour
had passed, he and his men were in their saddles and in rapid
motion with their good horses, not recruited only, but fuller, as
the knight had augured, of spirit and high fire than when they
had started on their journey some six hours before, during
which time they had carried each a tall and powerful cavalier
sheathed in so ponderous armor, that he weighed thirty stone
at the least reckoning.

The moon had risen, too, during their halt, and the roads
proving, as Giles had predicted, firm and in good condition,
they rattled on at a brisk pace keeping their steeds, however,
hard in hand with all their harness jingling merrily, and their
bright weapons flashing like diamonds in the misty moonlight.
A quarter of an hour brought them into the open country,
widely extended in rich plains, dotted with clusters of lofty
forest-trees, and bordered by soft, sloping hills, feathered with
hanging woods and many a waving coppice. No villages
were visible, however, in the glimmering light, nor did the
summit of a single steeple glitter out from the tufted tree-tops.
A few poor huts, dwellings of the degraded, wretched serfs,
who tilled — hereditary bondsmen — the vast demesnes of their
proud feudal lords, tending rich herds, the flesh of which was
never to be tasted by their famished children, and pressing the
rich grapes never to glad their hearts with their joy-giving
vintage — a few poor huts they passed, surrounded with styes
in long ranges; or, in some instances, with large folds for the
swine or sheep, which their inhabitants were forced to guard
at peril of their lives; but not another sign of human life
did they encounter. Suddenly, after they had ridden between
six or seven miles, and were just entering again a tract of
forest land, the deep loud clang of a heavy bell came booming

on the night-wind pealing from some unseen clock-tower the
last hour before midnight.

“There! there! beau sire, we are in time; that is the ban
cloche of the chateau; when we shall pass the second turn,
we shall be in the hamlet!”

“Ha!” cried the baron, “on, then, on! we have no time to
lose, for all it is not midnight.”

The road swept down a little sandy pitch, at the foot of
which ran a clear brawling trout-stream, wheeled short to the
left hand, and having crossed the stream by a steep, one-arched
bridge of brick, scaled the ascent on the opposite side, and
winding abruptly to the right, the dark ever-green pine-trees,
which clothed the banks of the gully scattering off diversely,
burst out into the little plain whereon were clustered round a
small rustic chapel, some twenty tidy-looking cottages with
cultivated stripes of garden-ground before the doors, and several
orchards interspersed with apple-trees, and a few vines
trained upon the latticed screens, the whole presenting a calm
and gentle picture of peaceful and domestic comfort. Scarcely
a bow-shot beyond these, its base and outer wall concealed
from the road by the close foliage of the still verdant orchards,
rose the gray weather-beaten tower of the keep, a tall square
building with a steep, flagged roof and projecting battlements,
having a circular bartizan at every angle, with a high flag-staff
rising from the ridge of the main dongeon. A loud vociferous
barking was set up by a dozen of deep-mouthed mastiffs,
as the little band of De Coucy rode clanging and clattering
round the hamlet, and many a male and female head was
thrust out of the latticed casements to note the character of
the intruders, and was as speedily withdrawn, reassured by the
appearance of the baron clad in his splendid surcoat. Within
five minutes they had cleared the village and its scattered
shrubbery, and stood before the barbacan of the chateau in full

view of its slight defences. It was, indeed, a place of but
little strength, as Giles Ivernois had stated, yet the knight
readily perceived that his new man-at-arms had somewhat
underrated its capabilities of defence; for the moat was not
only broad but very deep hewn out of the solid limestone rock
which lay beneath the soil at a few inches' depth, and the external
wall, though not high, was very strong, and built so
close upon the verge of the fosse, that it was quite impossible
to effect a lodgment at its base. The corps-de-logis was,
moreover, evidently framed with a view to stout defence, being
built in a hollow square with all the windows looking inward,
crenelled and looped on the exterior for shot of arbalast and
long-bow with the tall dongeon-keep in the centre of the
square, a citadel and last stronghold, commanding all the out-works.
So absolute, it would seem, was the security of the
inmates that no sentinel kept watch upon the barbacan, no
warder on the massy more; nor that alone! for all the clanging
sounds of the plate-armor, and the thick trampling of the destriers,
and all the baying of the watch-dogs had failed to rouse
one sleeper of the castle's guard.

After he had sat, something longer than a minute, silently
overlooking the defences of the place, the knight of Tankarville
lifted his bugle to his lips and wound a long, keen challenge,
which, to ears practised in the science of mots and enséangies
of ancient houses, would have conveyed the information
that the head of the bold De Coucys demanded entrance
at the gates. One, twice, however — nay, three times was
that keen call repeated, ere it found any ears to mark it; and
when at length the tardy warder did deign arouse him from
his slumbers, he also blew a challenge, so heedless was he or
so ignorant of his accustomed duties. Before, however, the
shrill flourish of his trumpets had ceased to wake the slumbering
echoes, De Coucy shouted loudly, “Ho! warder, up portcullis!

Unbar your gates, and down with your pont levis!
Open to a good friend and loyal. 'Tis I — I, Hugues of Tankarville.”

“I dare not, for my life, beau sire — nor could I, if I dared
— the keys are with the chatelaine!”

“Then wake her, sirrah, and that speedily; tell her the
knight of Tankarville beseeches of her courtesy that she will
presently admit him, with but three comrades, for reasons he
will show hereafter!”

“ 'Twere of no use, beau sire,” returned the warder; “the
sieur de Floris is abroad, and our fair ladye 'bideth since in
strict seclusion.”

“Dally not, slave, with me,” shouted De Coucy, shaking his
fist angrily at the man, who now showed himself half armed
upon the esplanade above the barbacan; “dally not, slave,
with me, but do my bidding! else, by the Lord that liveth! I
will break in perforce, and hang thee from the pinnacle to
feed the ravens of Verneuil.”

What reply would have come from the warder can not be
known, for ere he could reply the blaze of several torches
were visible upon the ramparts, and in a few moments Hugues
might clearly see upon the gate-house over against the barbacan
a female figure, wrapped in a hooded mantle furred
deeply with rich ermine, with several armed attendants, and
an old gray-haired seneschal beside her.

Low bowed Hugues de Coucy till the plumes of his waving
crest were mingled in strange contrast with the long, thin
mane of his coal-black charger; and when he raised himself
from that deep obeisance, he spoke with a voice, rich and clear
and manly, yet soft the while and soothing as the tones of the
southern lute.

“I pray you,” he said, “beautiful and gentle ladye, I pray
you of your courtesy aud charity, open your gates to one, who,

for so gentle deed, will ever rest your debtor — I, Hugues,
baron and count of Tankarville.”

“Sorry, am I, sir knight,” replied the lady; “sorry am I,
and very loathe to answer, but my good lord of Floris hath
ridden these four months past abroad, and I have bound me
by a vow that no strange knight, nor man-at-arms, nor even
priest nor friar, shall tarry after sunset beneath my castle-roof
till he return from peril. Pardon me, therefore, gentle knight,
pardon me in that I seem discourteous, and deem, I pray you,
my vow churlish, and not me!”

“Lady;” replied the Coucy, “lady, I do beseech you
ope to me, and by my faith, my knighthood, and mine honor!
thou shalt in naught infringe the strietness of thine honorable
vow. I ask not to set foot within thine hall — not to break
bread, or drain cup at thy board — I ask but leave to pass your
outer gates, to plant my pennon on your outer wall, to aid with
my good sword and such poor skill as I may boast, in the defence
of this your castle against the villain routiers of that
accursed ruffian, Talebardin, who will be at your gates with
sixty spears long before daybreak. God and the Virgin aid
us and blest St. Paul of Tankarville, we will beat off the dogs
who else will be too strong for ye, and the adventure done, we
will ride forth again asking no guerdon, e'en of thanks — no
benison, nor reward, save of our own good thoughts. Refuse
me this poor boon, and, lady, hear me swear, I, Hugues de
Tankarville, baron of Flanders, count of France, knight of
the empire — swear by my ladye-love, and by my patron-saint,
and by the bones and soul of my dead father, that, if I may
not on this field preserve your life and honor, I will at least
die for them; that if I may not win for Tankarville and Verneuil,
I will at least fall without stain, and draw my last breath
under shield nobly, and in a noble cause, fearless of aught on
earth and confident of heaven!”

“Good knight! good knight!” exclaimed the lady, “good
knight and noble if ever one was yet! Ride in! ride in! and
welcome. I do repose me on your honor — I do confide me
to your valor — I do trust fearlessly to your strong arm; — for
his arm must of need be strong whose spirit is so high and
holy. Let fall the gates there, knaves — lower the bride —
raise the portcullis grate! Room for the count of Tankarville!”
and with the words she left her stand upon the ramparts,
and came down hastily to meet the renowned and mighty
champion whose fame was rife through all the bounds of Christendom.

Meantime, the heavy grate of the barbacan was raised, and
the wide leaves of the gate flung open, and Hugues rode in
bowing his lofty crest beneath the pointed arch, followed by
his stout men-at-arms and his young spirited esquire. The
moment he had entered the dark vault, the stately warrior
leaped to the ground, and turning short to one of the men who
had admitted him, and who had of course heard all the previous
parley, “We have no time at all to lose,” he said, “good
fellow; so run down thou and summon all the serfs of the
hamlets, and all the freemen — if there be any in the place —
bound to man-service; bid them make haste as they would
live and prosper, for Talebardin and his routiers will be upon
them ere an hour, and ye have room enough within, I trow.
Get all the women in and children; these dogs spare neither
age nor sex! Haste thee, good fellow, for I will bear thee
out with thy good lady. Ermold, take thou my rein. Dismount
not, Ivernois, nor thou good Francon, I shall have need
of ye anon, for we will charge on their advance with a good
sally! So! so! Here comes the chatelaine!” and, as he
spoke the words, he lowered the beaver of his plumed helmet,
but keeping the avantaille still lowered, so that although his
mouth and all the lower part of his countenance was uncovered,

his eyes and brow were still concealed, so that a person
who knew him only by sight, without being acquainted with
his style or title, would have had some difficulty in recognising
him, and advanced to meet the lady chatelaine, who was
now standing in the arched gateway on the inner side of the
moat, surrounded by some six or eight men-at-arms, with the
old seneschal beforementioned, and a single handmaid at her
elbow. She was a delicate and slender girl, with nothing matronly
either of air or figure, not certainly above eighteen, and
of rare beauty, as might easily be seen; for her furred hood
had fallen back, and left the whole of her fair face and all her
classically-moulded head exposed to the full glare of the
torches, which lent a warmer tinge than common to those pale,
eloquent features. Hers was the beauty which, though not so
generally appreciated, must be pronounced far higher in the
scale of loveliness than mere voluptuous charms. Beauty it
was, indeed, of the first intellectual order; the high pale forehead
from which the dark, brown curls fell off in shadowy
masses; the slight expressive curve of the black eyebrows;
the long-cut eye of deep, clear gray, radiant and pure as a
transparent spring, yet calm and self-restrained; the classic,
almost stern profile, contrasted with the sweet arch of the rosy
lips; the bright, translucent paleness of the skin — all! all
were perfect — perfect in their unsensual, tranquil beauty,
while the expression of the whole was full of eloquence, of
mind, of music. She was a being whom, perhaps, ninety-nine
men out of every hundred would have passed by unheeded, as
cold and passionless, as a fair statue rich in proportions, rare
in grace, but senseless and inanimate, whom he, the hundredth,
would not have loved, but adored, idolized! as a thing almost
too pure, too spiritual, for any earthly worship. And so she
had been worshipped! and had returned that worship with the
young, trusting, innocent, devoted love of a free virgin heart!
She had been wooed and won, and plighted, and then ill days
and evil tongues had come between, and the frail thread
of true love had been broken — broken, alas! to reunite no
more

Two years had intervened, and they who had parted then
heart-broken lovers met for the first time now. She, the sad,
spirit-broken bride of an ill-matched and aged spouse. He,
the young, unknown knight of those past days, revealed as by
enchantment, noble, and chief, and champion. It boots not to
search back into their early fortunes; it now were profitless
alike and tedious. Enough they stood together. He knew
her as of old, and worshipped as he did then, and pitied as he
then did not. For he well knew the cruel arts by which her
late consent had been wrung from her to that most ill-assorted
wedlock. He knew her spirit true to himself alone, when all
beside was given to another. Yet did he know her pure and
innocent of soul as in her earliest maidenhood — a too true
wife to a passionless and aged lord. Therefore, concealed he
stood before her, and quelled his passions like a hero as he
was, resolved to add no sorrow to her sufferings by revelation
of the identity, all unsuspected and undereamed, of her young
nameless wooer with the renowned and far-famed baron who
had thus ridden to her rescue. And she received him as a
stranger; yet as a stranger known so well by the loud bruit
of his great deeds, that he was scarce less than an intimate,
even before he had approved himself a friend by this his gallant
aid. She prayed him raise his avantaille, and enter her
courtyard, and begged him once more to excuse her vow,
which must prohibit his admission to the hall. “Meanwhile,”
she added, “my vassals are even now preparing with earnest
speed such a pavilion as may suffice to shield a champion so
famed for hardihood of mood as the great Hugues de Tankarville,
and there, good knight and gentle, there may I tender you

the kiss of honorable welcome, the rights of courteous hospitality!”

“I, too, dear lady,” answered the Coucy, “I, too, must
plead a vow, and pray your pardon also for the semblance of
discourtesy. When first I learned by chance the purpose of
this dog banditti, I registered an oath in heaven never to raise
my vizor, nor to unbelt my weapon from my side, until the
slaves be scattered to the four winds of heaven, and you, dear
ladye of Verneuil, be scathless, even from fear. For the rest,
I beseech you waste no time in rearing gay pavilions, but let
each man-at-arms, and groom, and varlet of your household do
on his harness for defence. Let them fetch arbalasts and
quarrels, long bows, and sheaves of arrows to the wall, and let
them bend that great mangonel I see upon the ballium, and
suit it with a befitting stone. Your seneschal, if you permit
me to take the ordering of the day, should take post in the
keep, and when the villains show front clear of the forest, ring
the ban cloche in one continuous peal, and ply them from the
battlements with hail of flight-shot, arrow, and bolt, and bullet.
There must you be too, lady, with every woman of your
household, and such serfs of the hamlet as you may best rely
on — nay, I insist on't, and will lead you thither.” And, with
the words, he led the chatelaine to the door of the keep; and
as the villagers came in, he picked a dozen of the stoutest
vassals, and placing them under the guidance of the seneschal,
commanded him, as he regarded his young lady's life and
honor, to bar the gate of the dongeon on the inner side, and
open it no more, save at his bidding, or till the routiers should
be driven from the walls and utterly cut down. This done at
length, for Gabrielle, convinced after much instance, ceased to
remonstrate, Hugues took command of all the outworks, and,
having placed his little band — little, indeed! since he found
in the place only six men-at-arms and five stout serving-men,

to whom were added eight or ten half-armed vassals from the
village, on all the points of vantage — he joined his own men
in the barbacan, resolved to charge once with the lance before
he should be shut up within walls of stone, and sat there motionless
on his tall war-horse, until the stars paled in the azure
heavens, awaiting the approach of these fell desperadoes.