Red Eve

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"I married, and in this red robe! Why, that betokens blood, as blood
there must be if I am wed to any man save you," and she laughed, a
dreadful laugh.

"In the name of Christ," thundered old Sir Andrew, "tell me, John
Clavering, what means this play? Yonder woman is no willing wife. She's
drugged or mad. Man, have you doctored your own daughter?"

"Doctored my daughter? I! I! Were you not a priest I'd tear out your
tongue for those words. She's married and of her own will. Else would
she have stood silent at this altar?"

"It shall be inquired of later," Hugh answered coldly. "Now yield you,
Sir Edmund Acour, the King's business comes first."

"Nay," shouted Clavering, springing forward and drawing his sword; "in
my house my business comes first. Acour is my daughter's husband and so
shall stay till death or Pope part them. Out of this, Hugh de Cressi,
with all your accursed chapman tribe."

Hugh walked toward Acour, taking no heed. Then suddenly Sir John lifted
his sword and smote with all his strength. The blow caught Hugh on
the skull and down he fell, his mail clattering on the stones, and lay
still. With a whine of rage, Grey Dick leapt at Clavering, drawing from
his side the archer's axe he always wore. But old Sir Andrew caught and
held him in his arms.

"Vengeance is God's, not ours," he said. "Look!"

As he spoke Sir John began to sway to and fro. He let fall his murdering
sword, he pressed his hands upon his heart, he threw them high. Then
suddenly his knees gave beneath him; he sank to the floor a huddled heap
and sat there, resting against the altar rail over which his head hung
backward, open mouthed and eyed.

The last light of the sky went out, only that of the tapers remained.
Eve, awake at last, sent up shriek after shriek; Sir Andrew bending over
the two fallen men, the murderer and the murdered, began to shrive them
swiftly ere the last beat of life should have left their pulses. His
father, brothers, and Grey Dick clustered round Hugh and lifted him. The
fox-faced priest, Nicholas, whispered quick words into the ears of Acour
and his knights. Acour nodded and took a step toward Eve, who just then
fell swooning and was grasped by Grey Dick with his left hand, for in
his right he still held the axe.

"No, no," hissed Nicholas, dragging Sir Edmund back, "life is more than
any woman." Then some one overset the tapers, so that the place was
plunged in gloom, and through it none saw Acour and his train creep out
by the chancel door and hurry to their horses, which waited saddled in
the inner yard.

The frightened congregation fled from the nave with white faces, each
seeking his own place, or any other that was far from Blythburgh Manor.
For did not their dead master's guilt cling to them, and would they not
also be held guilty of the murder of the King's officer, and swing for
it from the gallows? So it came about that when at last lights were
brought Hugh's people found themselves alone.

"The Frenchmen have fled!" cried Grey Dick. "Follow me, men," and with
most of them he ran out and began to search the manor, till at length
they found a woman who told them that thirty minutes gone Acour and all
his following had ridden through the back gates and vanished at full
gallop into the darkness of the woods.

With these tidings, Dick returned to the chapel.

"Master de Cressi," said Sir Andrew when he had heard it, "back with
some of your people to Dunwich and raise the burgesses, warning them
that the King's wrath will be great if these traitors escape the land.
Send swift messengers to all the ports; discover where Acour rides
and follow him in force and if you come up with him, take him dead or
living. Stop not to talk, man, begone! Nay, bide here, Richard, and
those who rode with you to London, for Acour may return again and some
must be left to guard the lady Eve and your master, quick or dead."

De Cressi, his two sons and servants went, and presently were riding for
Dunwich faster than ever they rode before. But, as it proved, Acour
was too swift for them. When at length a messenger galloped into Lynn,
whither they learned that he had fled, it was to find that his ship,
which awaited him with sails hoisted, had cleared the port three hours
before, with a wind behind her which blew straight for Flanders.

"Ah!" said Grey Dick when he heard the news, "this is what comes of
wasting arrows upon targets which should have been saved for traitors'
hearts! With those three hours of daylight in hand we'd have ringed the
rogues in or run them down. Well, the devil's will be done; he does but
spare his own till a better day."

But when the King heard the news he was very wroth, not with Hugh de
Cressi, but with the burgesses of Dunwich, whose Mayor, although he
was blameless, lost his office over the matter. Nor was there any other
chosen afterward in his place, as those who read the records of that
ancient port may discover for themselves.



When Master de Cressi and his people were gone, having first searched
the great manor-house and found none in it save a few serving-men and
women, whom he swore to put to death if they disobeyed him, Grey Dick
raised the drawbridge. Then, all being made safe, he set a watch upon
the walls and saw that there was wood in the iron cradle on the topmost
tower in case it should be needful to light the beacon and bring aid.
But it was not, since the sun rose before any dared to draw near those
walls, and then those that came proved to be friendly folk from Dunwich
bearing the ill news that the Frenchmen were clean away.

About midnight the door of the chamber in which Sir Andrew knelt by a
bed whereon lay Hugh de Cressi opened and the tall Eve entered, bearing
a taper in her hand. For now her mind had returned to her and she knew
all.

"Is he dead, Father?" she asked in a small, strange voice; then, still
as any statue, awaited the answer that was more to her than life.

"Nay, daughter. Down on your knees and give thanks. God, by the skill I
gained in Eastern lands, has stayed the flow of his life's blood, and I
say that he will live."

Then he showed her how her father's sword had glanced from the short
hood of chain-mail which he had given Hugh, stunning him, but leaving
the skull unbroken. Biting into the neck below, it had severed the outer
vein only. This he had tied with a thread of silk and burned with a hot
iron, leaving a scar that Hugh bore to his death, but staunching the
flow of blood.

"How know you that he will live?" asked Eve again, "seeing that he lies
like one that is sped."

"I know it, daughter. Question me no more. As for his stillness, it is
that which follows a heavy blow. Perhaps it may hold him fast many days,
since certainly he will be sick for long. Yet fear nothing; he will
live."

Now Eve uttered a great sigh. Her breast heaved and colour returned to
her lips. She knelt down and gave thanks as the old priest-knight had
bidden her. Then she rose, took his hand and kissed it.

"Yet one more question, Father," she said. "It is of myself. That knave
drugged me. I drank milk, and, save some dreams, remember no more till
I heard Hugh's voice calling. Now they tell me that I have stood at the
altar with de Noyon, and that his priest read the mass of marriage over
us, and--look! Oh! I never noted it till now--there is a ring upon my
hand," and she cast it on the floor. "Tell me, Father, according to the
Church's law is that man my--my husband?"

Sir Andrew's eloquent dark eyes, that ever shadowed forth the thoughts
which passed within him, grew very troubled.

"I cannot tell you," he answered awkwardly after thinking a while. "This
priest, Nicholas, though I hold him a foul villain, is doubtless still
a priest, clothed with all the authority of our Lord Himself, since the
unworthiness of the minister does not invalidate the sacrament. Were
it otherwise, indeed, few would be well baptized or wed or shriven.
Moreover, although I suspect that himself he mixed the draught, yet he
may not have known that you were drugged, and you stood silent, and, it
would appear, consenting. The ceremony, alas! was completed; I myself
heard him give the benediction. Your father assisted thereat and gave
you to the groom in the presence of a congregation. The drugging is a
matter of surmise and evidence which may not be forthcoming, since you
are the only witness, and where is the proof? I fear me, daughter, that
according to the Church's law you are de Noyon's lawful wife----"

"The Church's law," she broke in; "how about God's law? There lies the
only man to whom I owe a bond, and I'll die a hundred deaths before any
other shall even touch my hand. Ay, if need be, I'll kill myself and
reason out the case with St. Peter in the Gates."

"Hush! hush! speak not so madly. The knot that the Church ties it can
unloose. This matter must to his Holiness the Pope; it shall be my
business to lay it before him; yea, letters shall go to Avignon by the
first safe hand. Moreover, it well may happen that God Himself will free
you, by the sword of His servant Death. This lord of yours, if indeed he
be your lord, is a foul traitor. The King of England seeks his life, and
there is another who will seek it also ere very long," and he glanced
at the senseless form of Hugh. "Fret not yourself overmuch, daughter.
Be grateful rather that matters are no worse, and that you remain as you
always were. Another hour and you might have been snatched away beyond
our finding. What is not ended can still be mended. Now go, seek the
rest you need, for I would not have two sick folk on my hands. Oh, seek
it with a thankful heart, and forget not to pray for the soul of your
erring father, for, after all he loved you and strove for your welfare
according to his lights."

"It may be so," answered Eve, "and I'll pray for him, as is my duty.
I'll pray also that I may never find such another friend as my father
showed himself to me."



Then she bent for a moment over Hugh, stretching out her hands above him
as though in blessing, and departed as silently as she had come.

Three days went by before Hugh found his mind again, and after that for
two weeks he was so feeble that he must lie quite still and scarcely
talk at all. Sir Andrew, who nursed him continually with the help of
Grey Dick, who brought his master possets, bow on back and axe at side
but never opened his grim mouth, told his patient that Eve was safe and
sound, but that he must not see her until he grew strong again.

So Hugh strove to grow strong, and, nature helping him, not in vain. At
length there came a day when he might rise from his bed, and sit on a
bench in the pleasant spring sunshine by the open window. Walk he
could not, however, not only on account of his weakness, but because of
another hurt, now discovered for the first time, which in the end gave
him more trouble than did the dreadful and dangerous blow of Clavering's
sword. It seemed that when he had fallen suddenly beneath that murderous
stroke all his muscles relaxed as though he were dead, and his left
ankle bent up under him, wrenching its sinews in such a fashion that for
the rest of his life he walked a little lame. Especially was this so in
the spring season, though whether because he had received his hurt at
that time or owing to the quality of the air none could ever tell him.

Yet on that happy day he thought little of these harms, who felt the
life-blood running once more strongly through his veins and who awaited
Eve's long-promised advent. At length she came, stately, kind and
beautiful, for now her grief and terror had passed by, leaving her as
she was before her woes fell upon her. She came, and in Sir Andrew's
presence, for he would not leave them, the tale was told.

Hugh learned for the first time all the truth of her imprisonment and of
her shameful drugging. He learned of the burying of Sir John Clavering
and of her naming as sole heiress to his great estates. To these,
however, Acour had not been ashamed to submit some shadowy claim, made
"in right of his lawful wife, Dame Eve Acour, Countess de Noyon," which
claim had been sent by him from France addressed to "all whom it might
concern." He learned of the King's wrath at the escape of this same
Acour, and of his Grace's seizure of that false knight's lands in
Suffolk, which, however, proved to be so heavily mortgaged that no one
would grow rich upon them.

Lastly he learned that King Edward, in a letter written by one of his
secretaries to Sir Andrew Arnold and received only that morning, said
that he held him, Hugh de Cressi, not to blame for Acour's escape. It
commanded also that if he recovered from his wound, for the giving of
which Sir John Clavering should have paid sharply if he had lived, he
and the archer, his servant, should join him either in England or in
France, whither he purposed shortly to proceed with all his host. But
the Mayor and men of Dunwich he did not hold free of blame.

The letter added, moreover, that the King was advised that Edmund Acour
on reaching Normandy had openly thrown off his allegiance to the crown
of England and there was engaged in raising forces to make war upon
him. Further, that this Acour alleged himself to be the lawfully married
husband of Eve Clavering, the heiress of Sir John Clavering, a point
upon which his Grace demanded information, since if this were true
he purposed to escheat the Clavering lands. With this brief and stern
announcement the letter ended.

"By God's mercy, Eve, tell me, are you this fellow's wife?" exclaimed
Hugh.

"Not so," she answered. "Can a woman who is Dunwich born be wed without
consent? And can a woman whose will is foully drugged out of her give
consent to that which she hates? Why, if so there is no justice in the
world."

"'Tis a rare jewel in these evil days, daughter," said Sir Andrew with
a sigh. "Still fret not yourself son Hugh. A full statement of the case,
drawn by skilled clerks and testified to by many witnesses, has gone
forward already to his Holiness the Pope, of which statement true
copies have been sent to the King and to the Bishops of Norwich and
of Canterbury. Yet be warned that in such matters the law ecclesiastic
moves but slowly, and then only when its wheels are greased with gold."

"Well," answered Hugh with a fierce laugh, "there remains another law
which moves more swiftly and its wheels are greased with vengeance; the
law of the sword. If you are married, Eve, I swear that before very long
you shall be widowed or I dead. I'll not let de Noyon slip a second time
even if he stands before the holiest altar in Christendom."

"I'd have killed him in the chapel yonder," muttered Grey Dick, who had
entered with his master's food and not been sent away. "Only," he added
looking reproachfully at Sir Andrew, "my hand was stayed by a certain
holy priest's command to which, alack, I listened."

"And did well to listen, man, since otherwise by now you would be
excommunicate."

"I could mock at that," said Dick sullenly, "who make confession in
my own way, and do not wish to be married, and care not the worth of
a horseshoe nail how and where I am buried, provided those I hate are
buried first."

"Richard Archer, graceless wight that you are," said Sir Andrew, "I say
you stand in danger of your soul."

"Ay, Father, and so the Frenchman, Acour, stood in danger of his body.
But you saved it, so perhaps if there is need at the last, you will do
as much for my soul. If not it must take its chance," and snatching at
the dish-cover angrily, he turned and left the chamber.

"Well," commented Sir Andrew, shaking his head sadly, "if the fellow's
heart is hard it is honest, so may he be forgiven who has something to
forgive like the rest of us. Now hearken to me, son and daughter. Wrong,
grievous and dreadful, has been done to you both. Yet, until death or
the Church levels it, a wall that you may not climb stands between you,
and when you meet it must be as friends--no more."

"Now I begin to wish that I had learned in Grey Dick's school," said
Hugh. But whatever she thought, Eve set her lips and said nothing.



CHAPTER IX

CRECY FIELD

It was Saturday, the 26th of August, in the year 1346. The harassed
English host--but a little host, after all, retreating for its life from
Paris--had forced the passage of the Somme by the ford which a forgotten
traitor, Gobin Agache by name, revealed to them. Now it stood at bay
upon the plain of Crecy, there to conquer or to die.

"Will the French fight to-day, what think you?" asked Hugh of Grey Dick,
who had just descended from an apple-tree which grew in the garden of a
burnt-out cottage. Here he had been engaged on the twofold business
of surveying the disposition of the English army and in gathering a
pocketful of fruit which remained upon the tree's topmost boughs.

"I think that these are very good apples," answered Dick, speaking with
his mouth full. "Eat while you get the chance, master, for, who knows,
the next you set your teeth in may be of the kind that grew upon the
Tree of Life in a very old garden," and he handed him two of the best.
Then he turned to certain archers, who clustered round with outstretched
hands, saying: "Why should I give you my apples, fellows, seeing that
you were too lazy to climb and get them for yourselves? None of you ever
gave me anything when I was hungry, after the sack of Caen, in which
my master, being squeamish, would take no part. Therefore I went to bed
supperless, because, as I remember you said, I had not earned it. Still,
as I don't want to fight the French with a bellyache, go scramble for
them."

Then, with a quick motion, he flung the apples to a distance, all save
one, which he presented to a tall man who stood near, adding:

"Take this, Jack Green, in token of fellowship, since I have nothing
else to offer you. I beat you at Windsor, didn't I, when we shot a match
before the King? Now show your skill and beat me and I'll say 'thank
you.' Keep count of your arrows shot, Jack, and I'll keep count of mine,
and when the battle is over, he who has grassed most Frenchmen shall be
called the better man."

"Then I'm that already, lad," answered the great yeoman with a grin as
he set his teeth in the apple. "For, look you, having served at Court
I've learned how to lie, and shall swear I never wasted shaft, whereas
you, being country born, may own to a miss or two for shame's sake. Or,
likelier still, those French will have one or both of us in their bag.
If all tales are true, there is such a countless host of them that we
few English shall not see the sky for arrows."

Dick shrugged his shoulders and was about to answer when suddenly a
sound of shouting deep and glad rose from the serried companies upon
their left. Then the voice of an officer was heard calling:

"Line! Line! The King comes!"

Another minute and over the crest of a little rise appeared Edward of
England clad in full armour. He wore a surtout embroidered with the
arms of England and France, but his helm hung at his saddle-bow that
all might see his face. He was mounted, not on his war steed, but on a
small, white, ambling palfrey, and in his hand he bore a short baton.
With him came two marshalls, gaily dressed, and a slim young man clad
from head to foot in plain black armour, and wearing a great ruby in his
helm, whom all knew for Edward, Prince of Wales.

On he rode, acknowledging the cheering of his soldiers with smiles and
courtly bows, till at length he pulled rein just in front of the triple
line of archers, among whom were mingled some knights and men-at-arms,
for the order of battle was not yet fully set. Just then, on the plain
beneath, riding from out the shelter of some trees and, as they thought,
beyond the reach of arrows, appeared four splendid French knights, and
with them a few squires. There they halted, taking stock, it would seem,
of the disposition of the English army.

"Who are those that wear such fine feathers?" asked the King.

"One is the Lord of Bazeilles," answered a marshall. "I can see the monk
upon his crest, but the blazons of the others I cannot read. They spy
upon us, Sire; may we sally out and take them?"

"Nay," answered Edward, "their horses are fresher than ours; let them
go, for pray God we shall see them closer soon."

So the French knights, having stared their full, turned and rode away
slowly. But one of their squires did otherwise. Dismounting from his
horse, which he left with another squire to hold, he ran forward a
few paces to the crest of a little knoll. Thence he made gestures of
contempt and scorn toward the English army, as he did so shouting foul
words, of which a few floated to them in the stillness.

"Now," said Edward, "if I had an archer who could reach that varlet,
I'll swear that his name should not be forgotten in England. But alas!
it may not be, for none cam make an arrow fly true so far."

Instantly Grey Dick stepped forward.

"Sire, may I try?" he asked, stringing his great black bow as he spoke.

"Who are you?" said the King, "who seem to have been rolled in ashes and
wear my own gold arrow in your cap? Ah! I remember, the Suffolk man who
showed us all how to shoot at Windsor, he who is called Grey Dick. Yes,
try, Grey Dick, try, if you think that you can reach so far. Yet for the
honour of St. George, man, do not miss, for all the host will see Fate
riding on your shaft."

For one moment Dick hesitated. Such awful words seemed to shake even his
iron nerve.

"I've seen you do as much, Dick," said the quiet voice of Hugh de Cressi
behind him. "Still, judge you."

Then Dick ground his heels into the turf and laid his weight against the
bow. While all men watched breathless, he drew it to an arc, he drew it
till the string was level with his ear. He loosed, then, slewing round,
straightened himself and stared down at the earth. As he said afterward,
he feared to watch that arrow.

Away it sped while all men gazed. High, high it flew, the sunlight
glinting on its polished barb. Down it came at length, and the King
muttered "Short!" But while the word passed his lips that shaft seemed
to recover itself, as though by magic, and again rushed on. He of the
foul words and gestures saw it coming, and turned to fly. As he leapt
forward the war arrow struck him full in the small of the back, just
where the spine ends, severing it, so that he fell all of a heap like an
ox beneath the axe, and lay a still and huddled shape.

From all the English right who saw this wondrous deed there went up such
a shout that their comrades to the left and rear thought for a moment
that battle had been joined. The King and the Prince stared amazed. Hugh
flung his arms about Dick's neck, and kissed him. Jack Green cried:

"No archer, but a wizard! Mere man could not have sent a true shaft so
far."

"Then would to heaven I had more such wizards," said the King. "God
be with you, Grey Dick, for you have put new heart into my and all our
company. Mark, each of you, that he smote him in the back, smote him
running! What reward would you have, man?"

"None," answered Dick in a surly voice. "My reward is that, whatever
happens, yon filthy French knave will never mock honest English folk
again. Or so I think, though the arrow barely reached him. Yet, Sire,"
he added after a pause, "you might knight my master, Hugh de Cressi, if
you will, since but for him I should have feared to risk that shot."

Then turning aside, Dick unstrung his bow, and, pulling the remains of
the apple out of his pouch, began to munch it unconcernedly.

"Hugh de Cressi!" said the King. "Ah! yes, I mind me of him and of the
rogue, Acour, and the maid, Red Eve. Well, Hugh, I am told you fought
gallantly at Blanche-Tague two days gone and were among the last to
cross the Somme. Also, we have other debts to pay you. Come hither, sir,
and give me your sword."

"Your pardon, my liege," said Hugh, colouring, "but I'll not be knighted
for my henchman's feats, or at all until I have done some of my own."

"Ah, well, Master Hugh," said the King, "that's a right spirit. After
the battle, perhaps, if it should please God that we live to meet again
in honour. De Cressi," he added musingly, "why this place is called
Crecy, and here, I think, is another good omen. At Crecy shall de Cressi
gain great honour for himself and for St. George of England. You are
luck bringers, you two. Let them not be separated in the battle, lest
the luck should leave them. See to it, if it please you, my lord of
Warwick. Young de Cressi can draw a bow; let him fight amongst the
archers and have liberty to join the men-at-arms when the time comes. Or
stay; set them near my son the Prince, for there surely the fight will
be hottest.

"And now, you men of England, whatever your degree, my brothers of
England, gentle and simple, Philip rolls down upon us with all the might
of France, our heritage which he has stolen, our heritage and yours.
Well, well, show him to-day, or to-morrow, or whenever it may be, that
Englishmen put not their faith in numbers, but in justice and their own
great hearts. Oh, my brothers and my friends, let not Edward, whom you
are pleased to serve as your lawful King, be whipped off the field of
Crecy and out of France! Stand to your banners, stand to your King,
stand to St. George and God! Die where you are if need be, as I will.
Never threaten and then show your backs like that knave the archer shot
but now. Look, I give my son into your keeping," and he pointed to the
young Prince, who all this while sat upon his horse upright and silent.
"The Hope of England shall be your leader, but if he flies, why then,
cut him down, and fight without him. But he'll not fly and you'll not
fly; no, you and he together will this day earn a name that shall be
told of when the world is grey with age. Great is the chance that life
has given you; pluck it, pluck it from the land of opportunity and, dead
or living, become a song forever in the mouths of men unborn. Think not
of prisoners; think not of ransoms and of wealth. Think not of me or of
yourselves, but think of England's honour, and for that strike home, for
England watches you to-day."