Quentin Durward Read online

  CHAPTER V: THE MAN AT ARMS

  Full of strange oaths, and bearded like the pard, Seeking the bubble reputation Even in the cannon's mouth.

  AS YOU LIKE IT

  The cavalier who awaited Quentin Durward's descent into the apartmentwhere he had breakfasted, was one of those of whom Louis XI had longsince said that they held in their hands the fortune of France, asto them were intrusted the direct custody and protection of the royalperson.

  Charles the Sixth had instituted this celebrated body, the Archers, asthey were called, of the Scottish Bodyguard, with better reason thancan generally be alleged for establishing round the throne a guard offoreign and mercenary troops. The divisions which tore from his sidemore than half of France, together with the wavering and uncertain faithof the nobility who yet acknowledged his cause, rendered it impoliticand unsafe to commit his personal safety to their keeping. The Scottishnation was the hereditary enemy of the English, and the ancient, and,as it seemed, the natural allies of France. They were poor, courageous,faithful; their ranks were sure to be supplied from the superabundantpopulation of their own country, than which none in Europe sent forthmore or bolder adventurers. Their high claims of descent, too, gave thema good title to approach the person of a monarch more closely than othertroops, while the comparative smallness of their numbers prevented thepossibility of their mutinying, and becoming masters where they ought tobe servants.

  On the other hand, the French monarchs made it their policy toconciliate the affections of this select band of foreigners, by allowingthem honorary privileges and ample pay, which last most of them disposedof with military profusion in supporting their supposed rank. Each ofthem ranked as a gentleman in place and honour; and their near approachto the King's person gave them dignity in their own eyes, as well asimportance in those of the nation of France. They were sumptuouslyarmed, equipped, and mounted; and each was entitled to allowance fora squire, a valet, a page; and two yeomen, one of whom was termedcoutelier, from the large knife which he wore to dispatch those whom inthe melee his master had thrown to the ground. With these followers, anda corresponding equipage, an Archer of the Scottish Guard was a personof quality and importance; and vacancies being generally filled up bythose who had been trained in the service as pages or valets, the cadetsof the best Scottish families were often sent to serve under some friendand relation in those capacities, until a chance of preferment shouldoccur.

  The coutelier and his companion, not being noble or capable of thispromotion, were recruited from persons of inferior quality; but as theirpay and appointments were excellent, their masters were easily ableto select from among their wandering countrymen the strongest and mostcourageous to wait upon them in these capacities.

  Ludovic Lesly, or as we shall more frequently call him, Le Balafre, bywhich name he was generally known in France, was upwards of six feethigh, robust, strongly compacted in person, and hard favoured incountenance, which latter attribute was much increased by a large andghastly scar, which, beginning on his forehead, and narrowly missinghis right eye, had laid bare the cheek bone, and descended fromthence almost to the tip of his ear, exhibiting a deep seam, whichwas sometimes scarlet, sometimes purple, sometimes blue, and sometimesapproaching to black; but always hideous, because at variance withthe complexion of the face in whatever state it chanced to be, whetheragitated or still, flushed with unusual passion, or in its ordinarystate of weather-beaten and sunburnt swarthiness.

  His dress and arms were splendid. He wore his national bonnet, crestedwith a tuft of feathers, and with a Virgin Mary of massive silver fora brooch. These brooches had been presented to the Scottish Guard, inconsequence of the King, in one of his fits of superstitions piety,having devoted the swords of his guard to the service of the HolyVirgin, and, as some say, carried the matter so far as to draw out acommission to Our Lady as their Captain General. The Archer's gorget,arm pieces, and gauntlets, were of the finest steel, curiously inlaidwith silver, and his hauberk, or shirt of mail, was as clear and brightas the frostwork of a winter morning upon fern or brier. He wore a loosesurcoat or cassock of rich blue velvet, open at the sides like that ofa herald, with a large white St. Andrew's cross of embroidered silverbisecting it both before and behind; his knees and legs were protectedby hose of mail and shoes of steel; a broad, strong poniard (called theMercy of God), hung by his right side; the baldric for his two handedsword, richly embroidered, hung upon his left shoulder; but forconvenience he at present carried in his hand that unwieldy weapon whichthe rules of his service forbade him to lay aside.

  [St. Andrew was the first called to apostleship. He made many convertsto Christianity and was finally crucified on a cross of peculiar form,which has since been called the St. Andrew's cross. Certain of hisrelics were brought to Scotland in the fourth century, and he has sincethat time been honoured as the patron saint of that country. He is alsothe patron saint of the Burgundian Order, the Golden Fleece.]

  Quentin Durward--though, like the Scottish youth of the period, he hadbeen early taught to look upon arms and war--thought he had never seena more martial looking, or more completely equipped and accomplishedman at arms than now saluted him in the person of his mother's brother,called Ludovic with the Scar, or Le Balafre; yet he could not but shrinka little from the grim expression of his countenance, while, with itsrough moustaches, he brushed first the one and then the other cheek ofhis kinsman, welcomed his nephew to France, and, in the same breath,asked what news from Scotland.

  "Little good tidings, dear uncle," replied young Durward; "but I am gladthat you know me so readily."

  "I would have known thee, boy, in the landes of Bourdeaux, had I metthee marching there like a crane on a pair of stilts [the crutches orstilts which in Scotland are used to pass rivers. They are employed bythe peasantry of the country near Bordeaux to traverse those deserts ofloose sand called Landes. S]. But sit thee down--sit thee down--if thereis sorrow to hear of, we will have wine to make us bear it.--Ho! oldPinch Measure, our good host, bring us of thy best, and that in aninstant."

  The well known sound of the Scottish French was as familiar inthe taverns near Plessis as that of the Swiss French in the modernguinguettes [common inns] of Paris; and promptly--ay, with thepromptitude of fear and precipitation, was it heard and obeyed. A flagonof champagne stood before them, of which the elder took a draught, whilethe nephew helped himself only to a moderate sip to acknowledge hisuncle's courtesy, saying, in excuse, that he had already drunk wine thatmorning.

  "That had been a rare good apology in the mouth of thy sister, fairnephew," said Le Balafre; "you must fear the wine pot less, if youwould wear beard on your face, and write yourself soldier. But,come--come--unbuckle your Scottish mail bag--give us the news of GlenHoulakin--How doth my sister?"

  "Dead, fair uncle," answered Quentin, sorrowfully.

  "Dead!" echoed his uncle, with a tone rather marked by wonder thansympathy,--"why, she was five years younger than I, and I was neverbetter in my life. Dead! the thing is impossible. I have never had somuch as a headache, unless after revelling out of my two or three days'furlough with the brethren of the joyous science--and my poor sister isdead--And your father, fair nephew, hath he married again?"

  And, ere the youth could reply, he read the answer in his surprise atthe question, and said, "What! no--I would have sworn that AllanDurward was no man to live without a wife. He loved to have his house inorder--loved to look on a pretty woman too; and was somewhat strict inlife withal--matrimony did all this for him. Now, I care little aboutthese comforts, and I can look on a pretty woman without thinking on thesacrament of wedlock--I am scarce holy enough for that."

  "Alas! dear uncle, my mother was left a widow a year since, when GlenHoulakin was harried by the Ogilvies. My father, and my two uncles, andmy two elder brothers, and seven of my kinsmen, and the harper, and thetasker, and some six more of our people, were killed in defending thecastle, and there is not a burning hearth or a standing stone in allGlen Houlakin."


  "Cross of Saint Andrew!" said Le Balafre; "that is what I call anonslaught! Ay, these Ogilvies were ever but sorry neighbours to GlenHoulakin--an evil chance it was; but fate of war--fate of war.--When didthis mishap befall, fair nephew?" With that he took a deep draught ofwine, and shook his head with much solemnity, when his kinsman repliedthat his family had been destroyed upon the festival of Saint Jude[October 28] last bypast.

  "Look ye there," said the soldier; "I said it was all chance--on thatvery day I and twenty of my comrades carried the Castle of Roche Noir bystorm, from Amaury Bras de fer, a captain of free lances, whom you musthave heard of. I killed him on his own threshold, and gained as muchgold as made this fair chain, which was once twice as long as it nowis--and that minds me to send part of it on an holy errand.--Here,Andrew--Andrew!"

  Andrew, his yeoman, entered, dressed like the Archer himself in thegeneral equipment, but without the armour for the limbs--that of thebody more coarsely manufactured--his cap without a plume, and hiscassock made of serge, or ordinary cloth, instead of rich velvet.Untwining his gold chain from his neck, Balafre twisted off, with hisfirm and strong set teeth, about four inches from the one end of it,and said to his attendant, "Here, Andrew, carry this to my gossip, jollyFather Boniface, the monk of St. Martin's; greet him well from me, bythe same token that he could not say God save ye when we last parted atmidnight.--Tell my gossip that my brother and sister, and some others ofmy house, are all dead and gone, and I pray him to say masses for theirsouls as far as the value of these links will carry him, and to do ontrust what else may be necessary to free them from Purgatory. And harkye, as they were just living people, and free from all heresy, it maybe that they are well nigh out of limbo already, so that a little mattermay have them free of the fetlocks; and in that case, look ye, yewill say I desire to take out the balance of the gold in curses upon ageneration called the Ogilvies of Angus Shire, in what way soever thechurch may best come at them. You understand all this, Andrew?"

  The coutelier nodded.

  "Then look that none of the links find their way to the wine house erethe monk touches them; for if it so chance, thou shalt taste of saddlegirth and stirrup leather till thou art as raw as Saint Bartholomew [hewas flayed alive. In Michael Angelo's Last Judgment he is represented asholding his skin in his hand]--Yet hold, I see thy eye has fixed on thewine measure, and thou shalt not go without tasting."

  So saying, he filled him a brimful cup, which the coutelier drank off,and retired to do his patron's commission.

  "And now, fair nephew, let us hear what was your own fortune in thisunhappy matter."

  "I fought it out among those who were older and stouter than I was, tillwe were all brought down," said Durward, "and I received a cruel wound."

  "Not a worse slash than I received ten years since myself," said LeBalafre. "Look at this, now, my fair nephew," tracing the dark crimsongash which was imprinted on his face.--"An Ogilvy's sword never ploughedso deep a furrow."

  "They ploughed deep enough," answered Quentin, sadly, "but they weretired at last, and my mother's entreaties procured mercy for me, when Iwas found to retain some spark of life; but although a learned monk ofAberbrothik, who chanced to be our guest at the fatal time, and narrowlyescaped being killed in the fray, was permitted to bind my wounds, andfinally to remove me to a place of safety, it was only on promise, givenboth by my mother and him, that I should become a monk."

  "A monk!" exclaimed the uncle. "Holy Saint Andrew! that is what neverbefell me. No one, from my childhood upwards, ever so much as dreamedof making me a monk. And yet I wonder when I think of it; for you willallow that, bating the reading and writing, which I could never learn,and the psalmody, which I could never endure, and the dress, which isthat of a mad beggar--Our Lady forgive me! [here he crossed himself] andtheir fasts, which do not suit my appetite, I would have made every whitas good a monk as my little gossip at St. Martin's yonder. But I knownot why, none ever proposed the station to me.--Oh, so, fair nephew, youwere to be a monk, then--and wherefore, I pray you?"

  "That my father's house might be ended, either in the cloister or in thetomb," answered Quentin, with deep feeling.

  "I see," answered his uncle--"I comprehend. Cunning rogues--verycunning! They might have been cheated, though; for, look ye, fairnephew, I myself remember the canon Robersart who had taken the vowsand afterwards broke out of cloister, and became a captain of FreeCompanions. He had a mistress, the prettiest wench I ever saw, and threeas beautiful children.--There is no trusting monks, fair nephew--notrusting them--they may become soldiers and fathers when you leastexpect it--but on with your tale."

  "I have little more to tell," said Durward, "except that, considering mypoor mother to be in some degree a pledge for me, I was induced to takeupon me the dress of a novice, and conformed to the cloister rules, andeven learned to read and write."

  "To read and write!" exclaimed Le Balafre, who was one of that sort ofpeople who think all knowledge is miraculous which chances to exceedtheir own. "To write, say'st thou, and to read! I cannot believeit--never Durward could write his name that ever I heard of, nor Leslyeither. I can answer for one of them--I can no more write than I canfly. Now, in Saint Louis's name, how did they teach it you?"

  "It was troublesome at first," said Durward, "but became more easy byuse; and I was weak with my wounds, and loss of blood, and desirous togratify my preserver, Father Peter, and so I was the more easily keptto my task. But after several months' languishing, my good, kind motherdied, and as my health was now fully restored, I communicated to mybenefactor, who was also Sub Prior of the convent, my reluctance to takethe vows; and it was agreed between us, since my vocation lay not to thecloister, that I should be sent out into the world to seek my fortune,and that to save the Sub Prior from the anger of the Ogilvies, mydeparture should have the appearance of flight; and to colour it Ibrought off the Abbot's hawk with me. But I was regularly dismissed, aswill appear from the hand and seal of the Abbot himself."

  "That is right, that is well," said his uncle. "Our King cares littlewhat other theft thou mayst have made, but hath a horror at anythinglike a breach of the cloister. And I warrant thee, thou hadst no greattreasure to bear thy charges?"

  "Only a few pieces of silver," said the youth; "for to you, fair uncle,I must make a free confession."

  "Alas!" replied Le Balafre, "that is hard. Now, though I am never ahoarder of my pay, because it doth ill to bear a charge about one inthese perilous times, yet I always have (and I would advise you tofollow my example) some odd gold chain, or bracelet, or carcanet,that serves for the ornament of my person, and can at need spare asuperfluous link or two, or it may be a superfluous stone for sale, thatcan answer any immediate purpose. But you may ask, fair kinsman, how youare to come by such toys as this." (He shook his chain with complacenttriumph.) "They hang not on every bush--they grow not in the fields likethe daffodils, with whose stalks children make knights' collars. Whatthen?--you may get such where I got this, in the service of the goodKing of France, where there is always wealth to be found, if a man hasbut the heart to seek it at the risk of a little life or so."

  "I understood," said Quentin, evading a decision to which he felthimself as yet scarcely competent, "that the Duke of Burgundy keeps amore noble state than the King of France, and that there is more honourto be won under his banners--that good blows are struck there, anddeeds of arms done; while the most Christian King, they say, gains hisvictories by his ambassadors' tongues."

  "You speak like a foolish boy, fair nephew," answered he with the scar;"and yet, I bethink me, when I came hither I was nearly as simple: Icould never think of a King but what I supposed him either sitting underthe high deas, and feasting amid his high vassals and Paladins, eatingblanc mange, with a great gold crown upon his head, or else charging atthe head of his troops like Charlemagne in the romaunts, or like RobertBruce or William Wallace in our own true histories, such as Barbour andthe Minstrel. Hark in thine ear, man--it is all moonshine in the water.Policy-
-policy does it all. But what is policy, you will say? It is anart this French King of ours has found out, to fight with other men'sswords, and to wage his soldiers out of other men's purses. Ah! it isthe wisest prince that ever put purple on his back--and yet he wearethnot much of that neither--I see him often go plainer than I would thinkbefitted me to do."

  [Charlemagne (742?-814): King of the Franks and crowned Emperor of theHoly Roman Empire in 800. His kingdom included Germany and France, thegreater part of Italy, and Spain as far as the Ebro. As Emperor of theWest he bore the title Caesar Augustus. He established churches andmonasteries, and encouraged arts and learning. He figures largelyin mediaeval minstrelsy, where the achievements of his knights, orpaladins, rival those of Arthur's court.]

  [Robert Bruce: the grandson of Robert Bruce, the competitor with JohnBaliol for the Scottish throne. He defeated the English forces atBannockburn in 1314, and thus secured the independence of Scotland, anindependence which lasted until the two kingdoms were united under onecrown in 1707.]

  [William Wallace: another brave Scottish leader in the war forindependence against Edward I of England. Wallace was betrayed in 1305and carried to London, where he was cruelly executed as a traitor.]

  [Barbour: an eminent Scottish poet contemporary with Chaucer. Hisprincipal work, The Bruce, records the life and deeds of Robert Bruce.]

  [Harry the Minstrel or "Blind Harry" was the author of a poem on thelife and deeds of Wallace which was held in peculiar reverence by theScotch people.]

  "But you meet not my exception, fair uncle," answered young Durward;"I would serve, since serve I must in a foreign land, somewhere where abrave deed, were it my hap to do one, might work me a name."

  "I understand you, my fair nephew," said the royal man at arms, "Iunderstand you passing well; but you are unripe in these matters. TheDuke of Burgundy is a hot brained, impetuous, pudding headed, ironribbed dare all. He charges at the head of his nobles and nativeknights, his liegemen of Artois and Hainault; think you, if you werethere, or if I were there myself, that we could be much farther forwardthan the Duke and all his brave nobles of his own land? If we were notup with them, we had a chance to be turned on the Provost Marshal'shands for being slow in making to; if we were abreast of them, all wouldbe called well and we might be thought to have deserved our pay; andgrant that I was a spear's length or so in the front, which is bothdifficult and dangerous in such a melee where all do their best, why, mylord Duke says in his Flemish tongue, when he sees a good blow struck,'Ha! gut getroffen [well struck]! a good lance--a brave Scot--give him aflorin to drink our health;' but neither rank, nor lands, nor treasurescome to the stranger in such a service--all goes to the children of thesoil."

  "And where should it go, in Heaven's name, fair uncle?" demanded youngDurward.

  "To him that protects the children of the soil," said Balafre,drawing up his gigantic height. "Thus says King Louis 'My good Frenchpeasant--mine honest Jacques Bonhomme, get you to your tools, yourplough and your harrow, your pruning knife and your hoe--here is mygallant Scot that will fight for you, and you shall only have thetrouble to pay him. And you, my most serene duke, my illustrious count,and my most mighty marquis, e'en rein up your fiery courage till itis wanted, for it is apt to start out of the course, and to hurtits master; here are my companies of ordnance--here are my FrenchGuards--here are, above all, my Scottish Archers, and mine honestLudovic with the Scar, who will fight, as well or better than you, willfight with all that undisciplined valour which, in your father's time,lost Cressy and Azincour [two famous victories in the Hundred Years'War gained over the French by the English, near the towns of Crecy andAgincourt, in 1346 and 1415. See Shakespeare's Henry V for a descriptionof the latter.]. Now, see you not in which of these states a cavalier offortune holds the highest rank, and must come to the highest honour?"

  "I think I understand you, fair uncle," answered the nephew; "but, in mymind, honour cannot be won where there is no risk. Sure, this is--I praypardon me--an easy and almost slothful life, to mount guard round anelderly man whom no one thinks of harming, to spend summer day andwinter night up in yonder battlements, and shut up all the while in ironcages, for fear you should desert your posts--uncle, uncle, it is but ahawk upon his perch, who is never carried out to the fields!"

  "Now, by Saint Martin of Tours, the boy has some spirit! a right touchof the Lesly in him; much like myself, though always with a little morefolly in it. Hark ye, youth--Long live the King of France!--scarce a daybut there is some commission in hand, by which some of his followers maywin both coin and credit. Think not that the bravest and most dangerousdeeds are done by daylight. I could tell you of some, as scalingcastles, making prisoners, and the like, where one who shall be namelesshath run higher risk and gained greater favour than any desperado in thetrain of desperate Charles of Burgundy. And if it please his Majesty toremain behind, and in the background, while such things are doing, hehath the more leisure of spirit to admire, and the more liberality ofhand to reward the adventurers, whose dangers, perhaps, and whose featsof arms, he can better judge of than if he had personally shared them.Oh, 't is a sagacious and most politic monarch!"

  His nephew paused, and then said, in a low but impressive tone of voice,"the good Father Peter used often to teach me there might be much dangerin deeds by which little glory was acquired. I need not say to you, fairuncle, that I do in course suppose that these secret commissions mustneeds be honourable."

  "For whom or for what take you me, fair nephew," said Balafre, somewhatsternly; "I have not been trained, indeed, in the cloister, neither canI write or read. But I am your mother's brother; I am a loyal Lesly.Think you that I am like to recommend to you anything unworthy? The bestknight in France, Du Guesclin himself, if he were alive again, might beproud to number my deeds among his achievements."

  "I cannot doubt your warranty, fair uncle," said the youth; "you are theonly adviser my mishap has left me. But is it true, as fame says, thatthis King keeps a meagre Court here at his Castle of Plessis? No repairof nobles or courtiers, none of his grand feudatories in attendance,none of the high officers of the crown; half solitary sports, sharedonly with the menials of his household; secret councils, to which onlylow and obscure men are invited; rank and nobility depressed, and menraised from the lowest origin to the kingly favour--all this seemsunregulated, resembles not the manners of his father, the nobleCharles, who tore from the fangs of the English lion this more than halfconquered kingdom of France."

  "You speak like a giddy child," said Le Balafre, "and even as a child,you harp over the same notes on a new string. Look you: if the Kingemploys Oliver Dain, his barber, to do what Oliver can do better thanany peer of them all, is not the kingdom the gainer? If he bids hisstout Provost Marshal, Tristan, arrest such or such a seditious burgher,take off such or such a turbulent noble, the deed is done, and no moreof it; when, were the commission given to a duke or peer of France, hemight perchance send the King back a defiance in exchange. If, again,the King pleases to give to plain Ludovic le Balafre a commission whichhe will execute, instead of employing the High Constable, who wouldperhaps betray it, doth it not show wisdom? Above all, doth not amonarch of such conditions best suit cavaliers of fortune, who mustgo where their services are most highly prized, and most frequentlyin demand?--No, no, child, I tell thee Louis knows how to choose hisconfidants, and what to charge them with; suiting, as they say, theburden to each man's back. He is not like the King of Castile, whochoked with thirst, because the great butler was not beside to hand hiscup.--But hark to the bell of St. Martin's! I must hasten, back to theCastle--Farewell--make much of yourself, and at eight tomorrow morningpresent yourself before the drawbridge, and ask the sentinel for me.Take heed you step not off the straight and beaten path in approachingthe portal! There are such traps and snap haunches as may cost you alimb, which you will sorely miss. You shall see the King, and learn tojudge him for yourself--farewell."

  So saying, Balafre hastily departed, forgetting, in his hurry, to payfo
r the wine he had called for, a shortness of memory incidental topersons of his description, and which his host, overawed perhaps by thenodding bonnet and ponderous two handed sword, did not presume to useany efforts for correcting. It might have been expected that, when leftalone, Durward would have again betaken himself to his turret, in orderto watch for the repetition of those delicious sounds which had soothedhis morning reverie. But that was a chapter of romance, and his uncle'sconversation had opened to him a page of the real history of life.It was no pleasing one, and for the present the recollections andreflections which it excited were qualified to overpower other thoughts,and especially all of a light and soothing nature.

  Quentin resorted to a solitary walk along the banks of the rapid Cher,having previously inquired of his landlord for one which he mighttraverse without fear of disagreeable interruption from snares andpitfalls, and there endeavoured to compose his turmoiled and scatteredthoughts, and consider his future motions, upon which his meeting withhis uncle had thrown some dubiety.