Troubadour Tales 11
Surely, surely, he said to himself, the king’s heralds were persons
in authority, and would not see him killed by the cruel Hugo, even if
he had taken and hidden the heathenish old sword. Did he not mean to
give it back, and had he not done it because of the very law they were
coming to proclaim? Surely they would help him in some way!
And so the afternoon wore wearily on. Count Hugo came once or twice
to see that the man-at-arms had properly beaten him, and even
meditated putting him to some torture to make him disclose at once
the whereabouts of the sword. But he scarcely dared, as he feared an
uprising of the people of the inn, who, he saw, were very fond of
Geoffrey; so he contented himself with cruelly striking the lad once or
twice, and determining to deal summarily with him when he should take
him away from Dives.
For at that time powerful noblemen did very much as they pleased. The
good King Louis had been away fighting in the Holy Land for so long
that affairs in France had for the most part taken care of themselves;
and though since his return the king was striving hard to correct many
abuses, there were many things yet to be looked after. So Count Hugo
thought he should have no trouble in carrying Geoffrey away as his
private prisoner because of the taking of his sword.
After the count’s last visit, when he had informed Geoffrey of some
of the punishments he meant to visit upon him when he got him off in
his own castle, the poor boy began really to despair! It was growing
late, and the sun was almost to its setting, and still not a sound to
tell of any unusual arrival in Dives. The little boy lay back, and
shut his eyes tight, trying to forget his miseries, and the dreadful
things ahead of him; but try as he might, now and then a big tear would
force itself through his closed lids, and trickle down his poor little
blood-stained cheeks.
And so another hour wore on, Geoffrey growing all the while more
despairing and miserable in his gloomy prospects. But at last, just as
he had given up all hope of the heralds, and concluded that the plight
he had got himself into had been all useless after all,—he suddenly
started up, and clutching the sleeve of the man-at-arms, exclaimed,
“Hark! what is that?”
“Hush, hush, little one! ’tis nothing,” said the man, who was a stupid
fellow, half dozing, and merely thought the lad crazed by his fright.
“Nay!” cried Geoffrey, “but listen!”
Here the guard somewhat pricked up his ears.
“By my faith!” he answered, “I believe ’tis a blare of trumpets! Some
noble must be coming to Dives!”
But Geoffrey, with eyes shining, held his breath, and listened to the
sounds, which seemed to be coming nearer. First there was a great
fanfare of trumpets; then a blare of horns; and then he could hear the
clatter as the inn folk hastened across the paved courtyard to the
gateway to see what was going on in the street without. In a little
while some of them seemed to return, and Geoffrey, who was burning to
know, but could not stir for his chains, besought the man-at-arms to
ask some one the cause of the commotion; so going over to the window of
the room, he called out to a passer-by.
“Ho, comrade! what is the meaning of yonder uproar?”
“’Tis the king’s heralds,” answered the voice from without; “he hath
sent them to proclaim a new law forbidding duels!”
Then, before long, the heralds, having made the tour of the Dives
streets, came riding toward the inn, escorted by a train of Dives
people. Geoffrey heard their horses’ hoofs as they pricked in through
the gateway, and also had the great joy of hearing them make the
proclamation itself; for having heard that at that very moment a
nobleman was lodging in the inn, come there for the purpose of a now
unlawful duel, they halted in the middle of the courtyard, and rising
in their stirrups, blew their trumpets, and again elaborately announced
the royal edict,—this time for the express benefit of their two
countships, Hugo and Boni.
Hearing this, Geoffrey was wild with delight; it was all working out
just as he had counted on! That is, all but one fact, which he all
at once ruefully remembered; he himself was at that moment still a
prisoner of the cruel Count Hugo. He had not counted on that at all!
O, he thought, if he could only get out and throw himself on the
mercy of the heralds! They were his only hope; for Count Boni as yet
knew not why he had taken the sword, and was perhaps angry with him
and would not come at once to help him. So he piteously begged and
besought the man-at-arms to take off his chains and let him go only so
far as the courtyard. But the man, though he felt sorry for the boy,
had too hearty a terror of the consequences to himself if he let him
out against Hugo’s orders; so he turned a deaf ear to all Geoffrey’s
entreaties, and gruffly told him he could do nothing for him.
At this the poor little boy fell to sobbing, and sobbed and sobbed most
of the night; for the dark had now fallen, and the little fellow was
quite hopeless for the morrow, when he knew Count Hugo meant to take
him away.
Meantime, that nobleman had passed into another terrible rage when he
heard the edict of the heralds. He was furious! Furious at the king,
the heralds, at Geoffrey and the world in general; because he saw
himself thwarted in his plans to kill Boni,—as he felt confident he
could do, with his unholy skill with the sword,—and to seize Boni’s
rich estate. All this put him in a frightful temper; although he was
wise enough to know that he dare not defy the king. So he scolded and
swore at everybody in sight, and then sulkily withdrew to his own
apartments, after giving orders to have his coach made ready to leave
early in the morning; for he wished to get off with Geoffrey at least,
before any one could prevent _that_! And on the boy he meant to wreak
full vengeance.
So the next morning Hugo, contrary to his custom, was astir early; he
had breakfasted in his room, and then hastening down to the courtyard,
got into his yellow coach and sent instant orders for the man-at-arms
to bring Geoffrey and mount the coach also; for he wished to keep an
eye on his victim and also to demand fulfilment of his promise to
restore the sword. But just as the man-at-arms was on his way to the
count, with his miserable little prisoner, he was intercepted by the
two heralds, who had been astir earlier even than Hugo.
Indeed, they were up because they had had a word or two put into their
ears the night before by the jongleur, who had sought them out and had
a bit of a talk with them. Now the jongleur was a shrewd fellow, and
recalling his conversation under the plane-tree with Geoffrey, had put
two and two together, and had pretty well understood the boy’s reasons
for carrying off the sword; and admiring him, he had determined to do
the best he could to save him, if explaining things to the heralds
could effect this. And it seemed it could; for now the heralds, laying
hold of the boy, first asked him if he had restored the stolen sword.
“Nay, sirs,” he answered, “but I will right gladly do as I promised, if
ye will let me go and get it!”
So one of the heralds went with him down into the garden, and stood
over Geoffrey as he uncovered the weapon and gathered it up still safe
in its scabbard. Then conducting him back to the courtyard, and to the
door of the count’s coach, the two king’s messengers stood, one on
each side, as the boy, making an obeisance, presented the sword to the
glowering count.
The heralds then solemnly announced to all,—for everyone in the inn
had gathered about by this time,—that they bore witness that the
lad had duly restored the stolen property to its rightful owner; and
that punishment for his taking it must be meted out by his rightful
suzerain, the noble Count Boni, to whose estate the boy’s family
belonged. They demanded this right for Geoffrey, in the name of the
king.
Now Count Hugo knew well enough that every peasant had a right to be
tried for a crime by the nobleman of his own home; but he had trusted
to carry things off with a high hand, thinking no one at the inn would
dare oppose him; as was undoubtedly the case. But with the king’s
heralds it was different; they did not fear him, and so he was obliged
to give up the boy.
This last thwarting of his plans, however, was almost too much for
Hugo! White with rage, he thundered to his driver to whip up the
horses, and off he clattered, disdainfully turning his back on the
Guillaume-le-Conquérant inn and all that it contained; and his swarm
of retainers followed him, all quaking in their boots from fear of
their master’s violent temper.
After the count’s departure, Geoffrey, still in charge of the heralds,
was taken into the great kitchen of the inn, where everybody gathered
about, delighted at the little boy’s escape from Hugo’s clutches. The
cook gave him some nice little cakes fresh from the oven; the peacocks
trailed past the open door proudly spreading their beautiful tails; and
the pink and white cockatoo overhead screamed his “Tee deedle!” and
seemed as pleased as anybody.
After a while the heralds gave Geoffrey over into the charge of Count
Boni’s second, who had meantime arrived to say that the count was
outside the walls of Dives, at the appointed place, and ready to meet
Hugo in the proposed duel. The second was greatly surprised when he
heard how matters had turned out; for he had spent the day before with
Count Boni at the Château Beauvais, and neither he nor his master had
yet heard of the proclamation or the subsequent departure of Count
Hugo. However, he took the little boy with him back to Count Boni, to
whom he delivered the message the heralds had sent: that he, Boni, was
to decide on what punishment Geoffrey was to receive for the taking of
Hugo’s sword; though it really seemed that the child had had punishment
enough already, at the hands of the cruel count himself!
When Count Boni was told all these things, at first he was greatly
displeased; for he was young and high-spirited, and very angry with
Hugo, whom he wished to fight regardless of the danger he ran from
such an unscrupulous antagonist, and he did not like it that a little
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