The Winning of the Golden Spurs Part 17

But the young squire was in no fit mood to be informed. The long, swinging motion and the heat of the sun had done their work, and he lay p.r.o.ne on the deck in the miseries of sea-sickness. Knowing that any attempt at consolation would only aggravate the malady, the master-bowman turned away, and, leaning against the low bulwarks, gazed intently towards the still invisible French coast.

Late in the afternoon the grey cliffs of La Hogue and the dark outline of the Isle of Aurigny were sighted; but just before sundown the wind died utterly away, leaving the little craft wallowing heavily in the long swell, her sail flapping idly against the mast.

The sky, hitherto clear and cloudless, was now overcast, and away towards the southward a succession of flashes of lightning betokened an approaching storm.

Even Pierre de la Corbiere, bold fisherman as he was, looked anxious, for the vessel was now beginning to feel the influence of the dreadful Race of Alderney, and, with a lack of wind and a dark night to boot, the terrors of the Race were considerably magnified.

About midnight they were in the thick of it. A slight breeze had sprung up, but barely sufficient to give the boat steerage-way. All around were tremendous broken waves, and, although Pierre stood gripping the tiller in an endeavour to avoid the heaviest breakers, the boat was urged onwards through the Race at the rate that a horse would trot, her mast threatening to snap under the irregular action of the vicious cross seas.

Throughout the tumult Raymond lay like a log, utterly unmindful of the danger, his illness having completely overcome him. His father took the precaution to lash him to the mast, and throughout that fearful night Redward remained by his side, making endless vows to the saints, which he heartily meant to fulfil should they ever again reach dry land.

Fortunately the threatened storm pa.s.sed away, and as daylight broke _Les Trois Freres_ was beyond the influence of the Race, Guernsey and its attendant islands, Sark and Herm, being plainly visible.

With a skill acquired by long years of experience, the Guernseyman steered his craft between the islands, taking advantage of every current that would help to bear them south, and, before the sun was high, the Island of Jersey was abeam. The waters, too, were dotted with the sails of fis.h.i.+ng boats, forming a pleasing contrast to the dreary waste of water they had traversed on the previous day.

Worn out and faint from the effect of his long fast, Raymond sat up and looked around, as if unable to bring himself to recall his surroundings; but after a scanty meal of dry bread and water, he felt the giddiness leave him, and with an effort he stood on his feet, gripping his father tightly for fear of falling.

"Where are we?" he asked dejectedly.

"Nearly there," replied Redward. "A sailorman thou'lt be some day, but beshrew me if thou lookest like one now! An hour ash.o.r.e will make all the difference; but rest awhile, my son, for there's work enow ere long for both of us."

Late in the afternoon _Les Trois Freres_ entered St. Brieuc Bay, the high ground showing up distinctly, while far away they could discern the lofty Bretagne hills, that lay between them and their destination; and, just as the sun was sinking low behind the Brittany coast, the little craft brought up under the shadow of the gloomy castle of Cesson.

Redward and the master conferred long and anxiously on the subject of how to gain the sh.o.r.e without observation, but at length a light dawned upon the dull mind of the Guernseyman.

"Thou hast said well," he remarked. "Of a truth we cannot make sure whether they of St. Brieuc are for the Countess of Montfort or against her. And none of us wishes to put his head into the wolf's mouth. But I know of a man--a foster-brother of mine--at whose house ye could stay until the way is clear for ye to journey across country. He dwells at Legue, but a mile from St. Brieuc, and I will go ash.o.r.e and converse with him."

Silently and in the now black night the little skiff was lowered, and Pierre de la Corbiere was rowed ash.o.r.e by two of his men.

For nearly two hours Redward and the young squire remained on board, anxiously listening for the sound of oars, till at length the little boat shot noiselessly alongside, and the master sprang upon the deck.

"'Tis easily done, though they of Blois hold the town," he exclaimed breathlessly. "Raoul de Rohein, of whom I spoke, is willing to receive you, for which service he demands five sols. He is a barber and chirurgeon, and lives in the Rue Mortbec. Hasten, ere it be light, for we must leave on top o' the tide."

Once more the skiff, deeply laden, started for the sh.o.r.e. Raymond, in his light armour, had discarded his surcoat with the conspicuous cross of St. George, Redward in his harness could hardly be distinguished from a Breton, and could rely upon his knowledge of the French tongue to pa.s.s for a Gascon, or a Burgundian, as occasion served. With them went Pierre de la Corbiere and a sailor, both of whom rowed while the squire and his father sat in the stern-sheets.

Half-an-hour's steady pulling and the skiff grounded on the sandy sh.o.r.e. Silently the three disembarked, leaving the seaman to look after the boat, and quickly they made their way towards the house of refuge.

Suddenly the master stopped. "_Mon Dieu_," he exclaimed, "_c'est les gardes!_"

Coming straight towards them was a body of halberdiers, accompanied by an officer. Retreat, without arousing suspicion, was impossible; but in a few words the ever-resourceful Redward had devised a plan.

Raymond lay down in the road, his father lifted him by the shoulders while Pierre took him by the feet, and, staggering under their heavy burden, they advanced to meet the watch.

"_Halte! Qui v'la?_" demanded the officer, flas.h.i.+ng a lantern upon the trio.

"'Tis le Sieur d'Erqui, Monsieur," replied the Guernseyman, speaking in a patois which is common between the Bretons and the Channel Islanders. "He has been roystering and brawling, and has been sore hurt."

"One cannot put old heads on young shoulders," remarked the officer, with a deprecating shrug. "What folly hash he been at?"

"I cannot say, monsieur."

"Eh, bien! All the wine-shops will have the tale to-morrow! _En avant, mes enfants!_" he added to his men, and to the great relief of Raymond and his companions the watch shouldered their halberts and moved on towards St. Brieuc.

"A narrow escape," exclaimed Pierre, crossing himself. "If we were discovered, three against seven would be long odds."

"I've been in a worse fix before to-day," replied Redward st.u.r.dily.

"And we could have taken them by surprise."

"Nevertheless, fighting is not in my line--on land, at least--and I am thankful it did not come to blows."

At length they arrived at a narrow street, where storeys of the houses projected beyond those below, till the uppermost ones appeared almost to meet, shutting out even the dim gloom of the now starlit-sky.

With the air of a man who feels certain of his ground Pierre strode rapidly ahead, the others following closely at his heels. Presently he stopped outside a house, and drawing his dagger, struck lightly upon the door with the hilt. After a few seconds' delay they heard the sound of some one moving within, and the door was carefully unbarred and thrown open.

Pierre whispered a few words to the occupant, then, bidding his former pa.s.sengers farewell, he turned on his heel and walked swiftly and silently towards the sh.o.r.e.

The Englishmen followed their host into a low, ill-lighted room, and for the first time they were able to see what manner of man he was.

A misshapen, undersized body, surmounted by a lean, yellow-skinned face, and furnished with a pair of long arms, the hands of which, shaking as if with ague, resembled the claws of a bird, formed the outward appearance of the barber and chirurgeon of Legue; and Raymond could not repress a shudder as he gazed upon this caricature of a human being.

"Ye are for Hennebon?" he asked in a quavering tone, rolling his l.u.s.treless eyes from one to the other.

"Ay," replied Redward, "but how, by Saint Gregoire of Brittany, didst thou know?"

"The s.h.i.+pman, my foster-brother, hath told me. But the money, the money?" he added, opening his withered hand.

"A curse on the s.h.i.+pman," growled Redward to himself, "his tongue will be our undoing. Here, take this," he added, counting out a sum of money equivalent to the five sols demanded. "Canst furnish us with a horse apiece?"

Ignoring the question, the barber counted the pieces, putting each coin between his toothless gums, as if doubtful of their quality.

"Didst hear me--respecting the use of two horses?" demanded Redward sternly.

"Yea, n.o.ble master," replied the barber. "But there are none to be had."

"None?"

"None! They have all been seized by those of Blois till the affair is over. Therefore, by necessity, ye must go afoot--and the roads are very unsafe for travellers at present, especially Englishmen bound for Hennebon!"

"A pest on your words! What would ye have us do?"

The old man advanced a step, peering with his bleared eyes into the face of the master-bowman.

"For money there is much to be had!" he croaked, a sardonic smile overspreading his withered face, while his long fingers clawed invisible heaps of gold.

"Out on thee for an arrant cheat! Give thy plan and name the price."

Slowly and deliberately, his voice hardly above a whisper, the Breton replied: "Did it ever occur to thy n.o.ble self that the dress of a leper would make the best protection?"

Redward recoiled, in spite of his hardened nerves, for sufferers from that loathsome and incurable disease were far from rare in Western Europe in those days. In France they were compelled by law to wear long grey gowns and hoods, and to carry a "barillet," or rattle, to give due warning of their approach. Under severe penalties they were forbidden to remain in the larger cities and towns, or to beg or use their rattle for the purpose of exciting pity. Thus it was common to see them wandering over the countryside in pairs, their approach being the signal for other wayfarers to pa.s.s them at a safe distance.[1]