Part 16 (1/2)
”Get you gone, knave, whose spurs should be hacked from your heels by scullions. Get you gone, traitor and liar, for well I know that Hugh de Cressi is not dead, who had a certain tale to tell of you to the King of England. Get you back to the Duke of Normandy and there ask the price of your betrayal of your liege lord, Edward, and show him the plans of our eastern coast and the sh.o.r.es where his army may land in safety.”
Acour sprang to his feet and his face went white as ashes. Thrice he strove to speak but could not. Then with a curse he turned and left the chamber.
”The hunt's up,” said Father Nicholas when he had heard all this tale a little later, ”and now, lord, I think that you had better away to France, unless you desire to stop without companions in the church yonder.”
”Ay, priest, I'll away, but by G.o.d's blood, I'll take that Red Eve with me! For one thing she knows too much to leave her behind. For a second I mean to pay her back, and for a third, although you may think it strange, I'm mad for her. I tell you she looked wondrous standing with her back against that wall, her marble face never wincing when I told her all the lie about young de Cressi's death--which will be holy truth when I get a chance at him--watching me out of those great, dark eyes of hers.”
”Doubtless, lord, but how did she look when she called you knave and traitor? I think you said those were her wicked words. Oh!” he added with a ring of earnestness in his smooth voice, ”let this Red Eve be. At bed or board she's no mate for you. Something fights at her side, be it angel or devil, or just raw chance. At the least she'll prove your ruin unless you let her be.”
”Then I'll be ruined, Nicholas, for I'll not leave her, for a while, at any rate. What! de Noyon, whom they call Danger of Dames, beaten by a country girl who has never seen London or Paris! I'd sooner die.”
”As well may chance if the country lad and the country archer come back with Edward's warrant in their pouch,” answered the priest, shrugging his lean shoulders. ”Well, lord, what is your plan?”
”To carry her off. Can't we manage nine stone of womanhood between us?”
”If she were dead it might be done, though hardly--over these Suffolk roads. But being very much alive with a voice to scream with, hands to fight with, a brain to think with and friends who know her from here to Yarmouth, or to Hull, and Monsieur Grey d.i.c.k's arrows p.r.i.c.king us behind perchance--well, I don't know.”
”Friend,” said Acour, tapping him on the shoulder meaningly, ”there must be some way; there are always ways, and I pray you to hunt them out.
Come, find me one, or stay here alone to explain affairs, first to this d.i.c.k whom you have so much upon the brain, and afterward to Edward of England or his officers.”
Father Nicholas looked at the great Count's face. Then he looked at the ground, and, having studied it a while without result, turned his beady eyes to the heavens, where it would seem that he found inspiration.
”I am a stranger to love, thank the Saints,” he said, ”but, as you know, lord, I am a master leech, and amongst other things have studied certain medicines which breed that pa.s.sion in the human animal.”
”Love philtres?” queried Acour doubtfully.
”Yes, that kind of thing. One dose, and those who hate become enamoured, and those who are enamoured hate.”
”Then in G.o.d's or Satan's name, give her one. Only be careful it is the right sort, for if you made a mistake so that she hated me any more than she does at present, I know not what would happen. Also if you kill her I'll dig a sword point through you. How would the stuff work?”
”She'll seem somewhat stupid for a while, perhaps not speak, but only smile kindly. That will last twelve hours or so, plenty of time for you to be married, and afterward, when the grosser part of the potion pa.s.ses off leaving only its divine essence, why, afterward she'll love you furiously.”
”A powerful medicine, truly, that can change the nature of woman.
Moreover, I'd rather that she loved me--well, as happy brides do. Still I put up with the fury provided it be of the good kind. And now how is it to be done?”
”Leave that to me, lord,” said Nicholas, with a cunning smile. ”Give me a purse of gold, not less than ten pieces, for some is needed to melt in the mixture, and more to bribe that woman and others. For the rest, hold yourself ready to become a husband before sunset to-morrow. Go see Sir John and tell him that the lady softens. Send men on to King's Lynn also to bid them have our s.h.i.+p prepared to sail the minute we appear, which with good fortune should be within forty-eight hours from now. Above all, forget not that I run great risk to soul and body for your sake and that there are abbeys vacant in Normandy. Now, farewell, I must to my work, for this medicine takes much skill such as no other leech has save myself. Ay, and much prayer also, that naught may hinder its powerful working.”
”Prayer to the devil, I think,” said his master looking after him with a shrug of his shoulders. ”G.o.d's truth! if any one had told me three months gone that de Noyon would live to seek the aid of priests and potions to win a woman's favour, I'd have named him liar to his face.
What would those who have gone before her think of this story, I wonder?”
Then with a bitter laugh he turned and went about his business, which was to lie to the father as he had lied to the daughter. Only in this second case he found one more willing to listen and easier to deceive.
On the following morning, as it chanced, Eve had no relish for the food that was brought to her, for confinement in that narrow place had robbed her of her appet.i.te. Also she had suffered much from grievous fear and doubt, for whatever she might say to Acour, how could she be sure that his story was not true? How could she be sure that her lover did not, in fact, now lie dead at the headsman's hands? Such things often happened when kings were wroth and would not listen. Or perhaps Acour himself had found and murdered him, or hired others to do the deed. She did not know, and, imprisoned here without a friend, what means had she of coming at the truth? Oh! if only she could escape! If only she could speak with Sir Andrew for one brief minute, she, poor fool, who had walked into this trap of her own will.
She sent away the food and bade the woman Mell bring her milk, for that would be easy to swallow and give her sustenance. After some hours it came, Mell explaining that she had been obliged to send for it to the farmsteading, as none drank milk in the manor-house. Being thirsty, Eve took the pitcher and drained it to the last drop, then threw it down, saying that the vessel was foul and made the milk taste ill.
The woman did not answer, only smiled a little as she left the chamber, and Eve wondered why she smiled.