It wanted an hour or two perhaps of sunset, on a lowering
September evening, when a small group of men and horses
were assembled on an elevated knoll, commanding an extensive
view of the country, which at that period was mostly covered
by unbroken forest; although a large and seemingly muchtravelled
road could be seen at intervals, for a distance of
many miles, with here and there the dark square outlines of a
church-tower, or of some castellated mansion, distinctly visible
above the trees, among which the causeway wandered devious.
All else was wild and savage. The huge beech forest, a portion
of the great wood of Ardennes, which, little circumscribed
in that day of its limits as described by the great Roman,
swept off in solid masses to the eastward, to join beyond the
Rhine the vaster solitudes of the Hercynian forest — clothed
every hill and hollow for many a league around with dense
and shadowy woodland. Except the line of road, and the

[figure description] Page 008.[end figure description]

scattered buildings, and here and there a wreath of smoke
curling up blue and ghostly in the distance, above some sylvan
hamlet or small borough town, nothing could be discovered
even to the misty, ill-defined horizon, but one vast sea of waving
branches, now tinged with the first solemn tints of autumn.
The knoll, which had been occupied by the party grouped
around its summit as a post of observation, was admirably
adapted for that purpose; rising abruptly from the top of a gentle
hill, to the height of at least two hundred feet, and being
the only elevation of the kind for many a league of distance.
The top of it was bare, and covered with thin grass sprouting
up scantily from the crevices of the sandstone rock which
composed it, but the sides were well clothed with luxuriant
coppice, high enough to conceal the head of the tallest man,
and very intricate and tangled. Immediately around its base
the high-road wheeled, after ascending the gentle slope on the
eastern side, and was soon lost to view in a deep-wooded valley
to the westward.

The group which occupied this station consisted of four
armed men with their horses; beside a monk, as he appeared
from his gray frock and tonsured head, mounted upon a sleek,
well-favored mule. The principal personage of the party was
one well meriting from his appearance, for it was singular in
the extreme, a brief description. He was above six feet in
height, and gaunt almost to meagerness, but with extremely
broad, square shoulders, and arms of disproportionate length
terminating in huge, bony hands. His face was even more remarkable
than his person, and his accoutrements, and dress
perhaps exceeded both. He had a very high but narrow forehead,
ploughed deeply by the lines of fierce and fiery passions.
His deep set eye (for he had but one, the left having been
utterly destroyed by a wound, the scar of which severing the
eyebrow near the insertion of the nose, seamed his whole

[figure description] Page 009.[end figure description]

cheek, and might be traced by a white line far through the
thick and matted beard which clothed his chin jaw), gleamed
out with a sinister and lurid glare from beneath his shaggy,
overhanging brow. His nose had been originally of the keenest
aquiline, high, thin, and well shaped; but its bridge had been
broken years before by a cross-cut which had completely severed
it, and which, though skilfully healed, had left a strange
and disfiguring depression. His mouth, as far as could be
judged from the vast crop of mustache and beard which covered
all the lower half of his countenance with a tangled mass
of red, grizzled hair, was well cut, bold, and decided, but the
whole aspect of the man was strangely repulsive and disgusting.
There was an air of reckless and undaunted courage, it
is true, stamped on his scarred and weather-beaten features;
but it was their sole redeeming trait, and it, too, was so mixed
up and blended with effrontery, and pride, and cruelty, and
brute licentiousness, that it was lost and obscured, except when
it would flash out at rare intervals in time of deadly peril, and
banish for a moment by its brightness the clouds of baser passions.
His dress had been in the first instance, a splended suit
of complete tilting armor of the most ponderous description;
but many parts of it had been lost or broken, and replaced by
others of inferior quality and construction. Thus while he
still retained the corslet and plastron with the gorget and vant
braces of fluted Milan steel, painted to suit the caprice of the
wearer, of a deep blood-red, his cuishes, and the splents which
protected his leg from the knee downward, were of plain Flemish
iron, once brightly polished, but now sordid and defaced
with rust, and recent blood-stains. His head was covered
by a heavy casque, with cerveilliere and avantaille of steel, of
a different construction from his breastplate, but like it lacquered
with dark crimson, and throwing a dreadful and unnatural
reflection from its raised visor over a face which needed

[figure description] Page 010.[end figure description]

no additions to render it in the last degree appalling. He had
an iron chain across his shoulders instead of a baldric, to which
was attached a long two-edged straight broad-sword. The
belt about his waist was filled with knives and daggers of every
shape and size; and pitched into the ground beside his horse,
a powerful and active charger, with a steel demipique and an
axe slung at the saddlebow, but unencumbered by defensive
armor, stood his long lance with its steel head and crimson
pennon. He had gauntlets on his hands, and spurs upon his
heels, but they were not the gilded spurs of knighthood, nor
was there any plume or crest on his burgonet, nor any bearings
on the plain, blood-red shield which hung about his neck.
The other three armed persons, who stood at little way aloof,
were ordinary men-at-arms of the period, ruffianly-looking fellows
enough, and with none of that gallant and spirited demeanor
which marked the chivalric soldier of the day. They
were powerful athletic men, however, strongly and completely,
though variously, armed one with the corslet and steel bonnet,
brassards and taslets, of a well-appointed trooper, one with the
hauberk and mail hose which were becoming at that time somewhat
obsolete — and the third in a brigantine or shirt of light
chain armor on the body, his limbs protected by the usual defences
of plate, and his head by a stout iron morion. They all
wore broad-swords and long lances, and several daggers in
their belts; beside which they had each a long bow and a
sheaf of arrows at his back. Their horses were stout, active
animals, in good condition, though somewhat low in flesh, and
the whole appearance of both men and beasts, although decidedly
irregular, was soldier-like and serviceable. The priest
who sat upon his mule, chatting sociably with the leader of
the party, was a round oily-looking little figure, with a soft,
sneering smile and a twinkle of marvellous shrewdness in his
quick, dark eye; altogether, however, he was as unclerical

[figure description] Page 011.[end figure description]

looking a personage as ever drew a cowl over a tonsored head,
and it is probable at least, that had his garment been subjected
to a close scrutiny, some most unpriest-like appendages might
there have been encountered.

“Well, priest — well! well!” said the red leader, interrupting
him impatiently, in the middle of a prolix description, “but
what said Talebard?”

“Talebard Talebardin,” answered the little monk, pompously,
“sent greeting to the Rouge Batard, and prayed that he would
give him the rencontre, with as many men and horses as he can
make, at the stone cross in the backwood near Braine-la-Leud,
on the third morning. It seems he hath got tidings of a strong
castle, weakly guarded, with a fair châtelaine within, and store
of wealth to boot. Her lord hath ridden forth to join John
Lackland at Mirepoix!”

“By God's head, and I will,” returned the other, “and there
is little time enough to spare. The third morning — may the
fiend else receive me! — is to-morrow. Ho! Jean Lenoir
draw your belt tight, and mount your trotting gelding, and ride
for life to Wavre on the Dyle, Bras-de-fer must be there, ere
this, with thirty lances — spare not for spurring, and bid him
bring his men up with all speed, and meet me at the broken
bridge! You know the place — begone! I look for you ere
midnight.”

“But my fair son and penitent,” interposed the monk, “how,
if we spare Lenoir, shall we be able to deal with the goodly
company of merchants, and win the pretty demoiselles I told
you of, and the rich sumpter mules? we shall he but three
men-at-arms, and they have four armed serving-men!”

“Jean must go, monk,” the other answered sharply, “Jean
must go, and forthwith, by God! but he shall leave his bow
and shafts with you, and you shall strip the gray frock off, and

[figure description] Page 012.[end figure description]

don the cold iron, as you have done before! — but were the
demoiselles so lovely?”

“Else may I never more kiss ruby lips, or drain a foaming
flagon,” answered the worthy monk, stripping off, as he spoke,
his gray frock, and showing himself dressed in a suit of closefitting
chamois leather, with a light jazeran, or coat-of-mail,
covering all his body, and a belt round his waist, well stored
with poniards and stilettoes. In a moment or two he had
rolled up his clerical dress, and deposited it in a little wallet
fastened to the crupper of his saddle; from which, after a
moment's fumbling, he brought out a strong pothelmed of black
iron. With this he speedily covered his shaven crown, and
taking the bow and quiver, which the trooper resigned to him
as he spurred his horse down the side of the hill appeared in
a style far more suitable to his real profession than he had done
before the alteration of his dress.

Scarcely had he finished his preparations, before, casting
his eye down the road to the eastward, he exclaimed: “Now,
by the good saint Martin! — here come the knaves. Look
here, Messire! here, over that big chestnut, you may perceive
the fluttering of their garments down in the valley of the stream!
We have no time to spare — they will be here within ten minutes.”

“Right, by our lady! Right monk!” cried the Rouge Batard,
“and for your tidings you shall choose you a paramour, as
soon as I am served.”

“Not so, by God!” interrupted one of the others, “it is my
turn this bout — the unfrocked priest gets ever in the luck on't.
When we look Ferté-sous-jouarre, last Whitsuntide, the brightest
eye and the rosiest cheek of the lot fell to our confrere
Benedict!”

“Look sharp, lad — look sharp, André,” returned the chief,
with a sinister glare of his single eye, and a malignant sneer,

[figure description] Page 013.[end figure description]

“lest instead of red lips, and white arms to clasp your neck,
you find a hempen knot to grace it, for by the God that made
you, dispute one other word of mine, and you shall swing for
it! To horse! to horse!” he added, seeing that his reproof
was effectual, and that no further admonitions were required.
“You, monk, lead, André and Le Balafré down to the thicket
just below the angle of the road at the hill foot. The moment
they come, give them a flight of arrows, and see you make
sure of the men-at-arms. Shoot each into the face, under the
eyeball, if you may; and then charge, sword in hand, and shout
our war-cry. I will be with you on the word. Away! be
steady, sure, and silent!”

Not a word more was needed; the priest and his companions
scrambled down into the road, and rode off as quickly as
was consistent with complete silence, while he who was called
the Rouge Batard led his horse slowly down the side of the
steep knoll; and, having reached the road just as his followers
disappeared round an abrupt turn of the causeway, tightened
his girths carefully, and sprang into the saddle without putting
hand to mane, or foot to stirrup, his horse standing motionless
all the while as a carved statue. Settling himself firmly in his
demipique, he lowered the visor over his hideous features;
loosened his broadsword in its scabbard, and, seeing that the
battle-axe which was suspended at the saddle-bow was ready
to his grasp, laid his long lance into its rest, and, keeping the
point elevated, walked his horse gently down the sandy road.

His seat was firm and graceful; his hand light, delicate, and
easy; and as the noble animal which bore him curvetted down
the gentle slope, despite the singular color of his harness, its
want of complete uniformity and neatness, and the ruffianism
of his whole appearance, it could not be denied that he was an
accomplished horseman, and altogether a showy, martial-looking
soldier.

[figure description] Page 014.[end figure description]

In a few moments he reached the spot where he had placed
his ambuscade, and halted. It was indeed a place adapted for
the purpose — the road, which here was perfectly level, ran
between almost impervious thickets of hazel, ash, and alders,
much interfaced with creepers and wild briers; and was overhung
with timber-trees, so that at noonday it was ever twilight
there; and in the early evening, profound darkness. The
causeway at this point turned suddenly, directly at right angles,
so that of two parties travelling in opposite directions, neither
could see or suspect the approach of the other till they were
in close contact; and here, well knowing that his men lay in
the thicket close before him, the Routier halted, with his lance
in the rest, and eye, ear, heart, on the alert, ready to dash in
on the travellers at the first signal of the robber-priest. His
horse, endowed as it would seem with an instinctive knowledge
of what was in the wind, did not so much as champ its
bits, much less paw up the ground, or neigh, or whinny. Not
a sound was to be heard in the wooded defile except the hoarse
cooing of a distant wood pigeon, the wild, laughter-like scream
of the green-headed woodpecker, and the tinkling gurgle of a
little rivulet which crossed the road some fifty yards below.

The company which was approaching, and which had been
accurately reconnoitred by the priest during their noontide
halt at the little village of Merk-Braine, consisted of no less
than twelve individuals, beside a long train of sumpter mules
loaded with costly merchandise. First rode, well mounted on
stout, black, Flemish horses, four of the ordinary armed servants
or retainers of the day, dressed in strong doublets of
buff-leather, with morions and breastplates, and heavy halberds
in their hands, and long swords girded on their thighs. Close
upon these came three persons, the principals evidently of the
party, riding abreast; and as it would seem engaged in earnest
conversation. He on the right hand side was a tall, portly

[figure description] Page 015.[end figure description]

figure, with a broad brow and handsome features; but his hair
was already tinged with many a streak of gray, and the deep
lines of thought and care upon his cheek and forehead told as
distinctly as words could have done, that he had spent long.
years amid the toils and trials of the world; and that two thirds
at least of his mortal course had been run through whether for
good or evil. Next to him, curbing lightly a beautiful Spanish
jennet; there rode as lovely a girl as ever man's eyes looked
upon. Still in her early youth, there was no stain, no blight
of sin or passion on her sweet innocent features; her full,
black eye danced with an eloquent and lightsome mirth, and
there was a continual smile on her ripe, ruby lips; her form
was tall and slender, yet exquisitely rounded in all its flowing
outlines; and so symmetrically full, that her young, glowing
bust might have been chosen for a sculptor's model. As near
to her upon the left as he could guide his eager horse, hanging
on every word she uttered as though his soul were balanced
on the low, soft sound, and gazing into her eyes with an
impassioned, earnest tenderness, was a fine, noble looking
youth of twenty-five or twenty-six years; handsomely clad in
a pourpoint of morone colored velvet, with a rapier at his side,
and a richly-mounted poniard in his girdle. These were again
followed by two serving-women, fair, buxom-looking lasses,
with the dark eyes and rich complexions of the sunny south;
and an old steward, or major-domo, riding unarmed beside
them. The train was brought up by two common grooms, or
serving-men, without any weapons, either offensive or defensive,
driving a string of laden mules, the whole forming the
retinue, as the quick eye of the Routier's emissary had not
failed to detect, of a rich Fleming merchant, travelling with
his family and chattels toward the capital of France.

Just as they neared the lurking-place of the banditti, the
fair girl raised her eyes to the fast darkening heaven, and a

[figure description] Page 016.[end figure description]

slight shiver running through her graceful form, “Uncle,” she
said, addressing the elder rider, “I would we were at our halting-place
for the night. I know not why it is — for never did
I feel aught like it before — but there comes over me a secret
dread and horror, as I look out into these dreary woods, and
see the shadows of approaching night darkening the giant trees.
Is there no peril here?”

“None, my girl,” replied the portly burgher, “no peril, or I
would not have exposed you to it. That fierce marauder, Talebard
Talebardin, as he calls himself, and his more barbarous
associate, the Red Bastard, have marched away, as I learned
beyond all doubt, ere we crossed the frontier, to join the bad
king John, at Mirepoix, where he is even now in arms against
his brother's son. And the great Philip, as I hear, is hurrying
hitherward with such a train of bannerets and barons as
has made all the roads secure as the streets of Paris. But we
will trot on, for the night is darkening, and we have four
leagues yet to traverse ere we reach Braine-la — God of heaven!
what have we here!”

His last words were caused by a fierce and discordant yell
from the thicket, accompanied by the simultaneous twang of
three bowstrings, and the deadly whistling of the gray goose
shafts; and almost instantly — before, indeed, the words had
well left his lips — three of the four men-at-arms fell headlong
to the earth, each shot in the face with a barbed arrow, and,
after a few seconds' struggle, lay cold and senseless as the
clods around them. The remaining trooper set spurs to his
horse, and drove furiously forward, accompanied by the chargers
of his slains companions, which, freed from all restraint
and mad with terror, tossing their heads aloft, and yerking out
their heels, dashed diverse into the deep forest.

What has occupied many lines to relate, occurred almost
with the speed of light; and, while the long ear-piercing shriek

[figure description] Page 017.[end figure description]

yet quivered on the lips of Marguerite Beaufroy, her uncle
snatched her bridle-rein, and, putting spurs to his own horse,
struck into a furious gallop, crying, “Ride, ride! for life! for
life! we are waylaid — God aid us!” But as he did so, from
the thicket forth charged Le Balafré and his companion, followed
by the pretended monk. Cutting into the middle of the
train they separated the younger merchant from his fair cousin
and his father, rode down the old steward, and one attacking
the youth, sword in hand, while the others coolly cut down and
stabbed the unarmed servitors, were masters of the field in five
minutes' space. For a moment or more it seemed as though
the first fugitives were about to escape; for they had already
interposed a considerable space between themselves and the
ruffians, and were just wheeling round the angle of the wood,
when, full in front rose the appalling war-cry, well known by
fame through every province of fair France, “Ha! ha! Saint
Diable pour le Rouge Batard!” — and as the awful sound smote
on the ears of the trembling voyagers, a scene of no less terror
presented itself to their eyes, the fearful form of the Red Routier
charging in full career against their servant, who scarce
had power to wield his halberd, so utterly had terror overcome
his heart and palsied his strong arm. One instant — one loud
thundering crash, with a wild cry of mortal anguish ringing
above the clang and clatter — and the short strife was over.
Man and horse rolled in the dust, one to rise no more, and still
with lance unbroken and in rest, its point and pennon reeking
with the hot life-blood, the Rouge Batard came on. But as he
came, he saw that all the strife was over, excepting the protracted
struggle between La Balafré and the young lover. He
jerked his lance up quickly, when its head was within a foot
of the elder merchant's breast; and curbed his charger up so
suddenly that he stood motionless, thrown almost on his haunches,
scarce a yard distant from the Spanish jennet of the unhappy

[figure description] Page 018.[end figure description]

Marguerite. “Hold your hands! — all!” he shouted, “hear
you me not, La Balafré? Hold your hands, man! And you
Sir Fool, down with your silly sword, before worse come of
it! Sweet lady, I salute you,” he continued, “by God but thou
art wondrous fair, and worthy to be, as thou shalt, ere long, the
world-famed mistress of Le Rouge Batard. You sirs,” he went
on speaking very rapidly, addressing the merchants, “down
from your horses, on the instant! Point out to these good men
the costliest and least bulky of your wares, yield up your purses
and your jewels, and, seeing we have lost no blood, we will be
merciful to day, and suffer you to go at large, reserving to ourselves
your demoiselles, whom, by the spirit of thunder, we
will console right worthily.”

“That thou shalt never do, dog!” cried the young man, aiming
with the words a tremendous blow at the head of the
Routier. Sparks of fire flashed from the dinted casque of the
Red Bastard, and his head was bent forward almost to the
saddle-bow; but ere his bold assailant could repeat the blow
he had set spurs to his charger, and, letting fall his own lance,
seized the youth by the throat with the tremendous gripe of
his gauntlet, and, throttling him for a moment savagely, lifted
him clear out of the saddle and hurled him to the earth with
such violence that he lay stunned and motionless. “Take
that,” he said, with a bitter sneer, “take that, to teach you
manners! And, since you deign not to accept our mercy, by
Heaven, you shall fare the worse of it. Hold my horse, monk,”
he added, as he leaped to the ground, and stood up to the prostrate
youth. “Who is that groaning there?” he exclaimed, as
a faint acclamation of pain reached his ear, from the old steward,
who, sorely bruised and shaken by his fall, was just recovering
his senses. “Par Dieu! I can not hear myself think
for the noise. Jump down from your horse, Le Balafré, and
cut his throat at once; cut it close under the jaws, down to

[figure description] Page 019.[end figure description]

the back-bone; that will stop his cursed clamor; and then
come hither with your knife.”

The brutal mandate was executed in an instant, despite the
feeble struggles of the old man, and the screams of the servant-girls,
who were so near the wretched being that his blood
literally spirted over their feet and the hems of their dresses;
and then, bearing the deadly instrument, a huge double-edged
knife, with a blade of a hand's-breadth, and two-feet in length,
still reeking with the evidence of slaughter, the scarred and
savage ruffian approached his chief; who, with his vizor raised,
stood perfectly unmoved and calm, contemplating his victims
with an air of quiet, easy satisfaction. The man looked at
him for a sign, and he replied to the look; “Wait! wait a little
while! he is coming to — and it were pity he should die without
feeling it!”

“O God! O God! be merciful — spare him, thou man of
blood — spare him, and I will bless thee, pray for thee, love
thee! yea, bribe thee to the deed of mercy, with all I hold on
earth!” exclaimed the lovely Marguerite, flinging herself from
her horse before his knees, and clasping them in agony as she
grovelled at his feet; while her uncle heaped offer upon offer
of ransoms that on a foughten field would have bought dearly
an earl's freedom.

“By all that's holy,” answered the brute, “but thou art wondrous
beautiful!” and with the words he raised her from the
ground, and held her for a moment's space at his arms' length,
gazing with a critical eye into her pale but lovely face; then
drawing her suddenly to him, he clasped her to his breast in
the closest embrace, and pressed a long, full kiss on her reluctant
lips. “Thou art most wondrous fair, and thy lip is as soft
and fragrant as a rosebud! I would do much to earn the love
of one so beautiful; but thou hast nothing, sweet one, wherewith
to bribe me, save thine own person, and that is mine

[figure description] Page 020.[end figure description]

already, as thou shalt learn ere long! Cease thy absurd, unmeaning
prayers, old man, they are of no avail. Balafré, the good
youth, is alive enough to feel now!” and, at his word, the ruffian
knelt down coolly, and plunged his weapon three several times
into the bosom of his unresisting victim, while with one fearful,
shivering shriek, Marguerite fainted in the arms of the Red
Bastard.

“That is well! that is well! now seeing that this worthy
senior hath somewhat more of sense than young hopeful, we
will give him a choice for life. Gag him, and tie him to yon
chestnut-tree; if he survive till morning, without the wolves
discovering him, he may live yet many a day. Look sharp,
my men! Bring out your mule, monk, and bear me this fair
dame before you. Carefully, sir — and, mark me, see that you
do not dare so much as look or breathe upon her lovingly!
The maids will ride on with us, on their own hackneys; and,
hark ye, silly hussies, no wrong shall be done to you, save that
women in their hearts deem no wrong, phrase it as they may!
so ye keep silent! but just shriek once again, and ye shall
share the fate of that old dotard. André, and you, Le Balafré,
bring up the mules. Away! away! or we shall scarce meet
Talebard by daybreak!”

His orders were performed upon the instant, and to the very
letter. The terrified girls ceased from their painful sobbings;
the old man, in despite of desperate resistance, was made fast
to the tree; and the monk, bearing on his saddle-bow the lovely
maiden, still, happily for her, insensible, the Rouge Batard
mounted his potent charger, and, with his captives and his
booty, rode at a rapid pace into the forest, the depths of which
were now as dark as midnight.

CHAPTER II. THE KNIGHT.

[figure description] Page 021.[end figure description]

There is a little hostelrie in the village of Merk-Braine,
which bears the marks to this day of the most extreme antiquity;
and which, if it be not the same that offered hospitality to travellers
in the days of Philip Augustus — those glorious days of
old knight-errantry! — occupies at least the same position, and
discharges the same functions now, as did its scarcely ruder
prototype long centuries ago.

It was, at the period of which I write, a wretched clay-built
hut, with unglazed lattices; a ragged porch of old worm-eaten
timber; a bush, or dray branch rather, over the door; and a
broken flagon suspended from a pole at the gable, to indicate
to passers-by the character of the tenement. Uninviting, however,
as was the exterior of the building, and unpromising of
better cheer within, so rude were the accommodations of the
age, and so threatening the aspect of the evening — for it was
autumn, and the equinoctial storm, which had for some time
past been brewing, seemed now about to burst in earnest —
that an acclamation of pleasure rose to the lips of the leader
of a little party of horse, as he drew in his bridle at the door,
and shouted for the hostler

He was a tall and powerful man, of some six or eight and
thirty years, with a bold, manly countenance, sun-burnt and
darkened by exposure to all weathers; a full, well-opened eye,
of a bright sparkling blue, and a quantity of close-curled auburn
locks clustering round his temples. His beard and mustaches—
for he wore both — were considerable darker than his hair;

[figure description] Page 022.[end figure description]

but the latter were so small and closely trimmed, as to detract
nothing from the effect of his well-cut firm mouth, which with
his ample brow, was decidedly the finest feature of his face.
His dress was the superb attire of a baron of that day in his
complete war-harness, except that he wore on his head only a
low cap of black velvet, trimmed round the brim with ermine,
while his casque was suspended from the saddle-bow of his
principal attendant. He was then sheathed from the throat
downward, in panoply of palated Milan steel, polished till it
glanced to every beam of light like a Venetian mirror; yet it
glanced not with the cold lustre of plain burnished iron; for in
the tempering of the metal, it had been wrought to a rich, purplish
blue, resembling not a little the finest modern enamel,
and was moreover engrailed, to use the technical term, with
threads of golden wire, so exquisitely welded, in patterns of
rare arabesque, into the harder steel, that the two substances
were perfectly incorporated. It must not be supposed, however,
that the whole of this superb suit was exposed to the
sunshine, which, reflected from its surface, would have been
intolerable to the wearer, or to the rain, which would, ere long,
have dimmed its polish; nothing, in fact, was visible of the
armor, except the gorget defending the neck, the brassards,
vantbraces, and gauntlets on the arms, and the splents covering
the legs from the knee downward; for all the chest and thighs
of the rider were clad, above the mail, in a surcoat, or loose
frock, of fine white Flanders cloth, fringed with deep bullion,
and having a chained dragon — the well-known cognizance of
the counts of Tankarville — emblazoned on the breast, on thick
embroideries of gold. The splendid warrior, however, carried
no offensive weapon, with the exception of a richly-mounted
dagger at his girdle; nor was he horsed on his ponderous
charger, but on a slight and delicate Arabian, of a deep iron
gray, whose springy limbs and slender pasterns would have

[figure description] Page 023.[end figure description]

seemed utterly inadequate to bear the weight of so large a man
sheathed in so ponderous a harness, had not its wild, large eye,
its red, expanded nostril, and its proud, tremulous snort, as it
chafed against the curb, proclaimed it full of the indomitable
spirit of its desert sires. His attendants were three in number.
An old dark veteran, with hair as white as snow, but with a
ruddy, sun-burnt face, radiant with health and animation —
who, mounted on a strong, black charger, bore, in addition to his
own accoutrements, his master's lance and helmet. The other
two were ordinary men-at-arms of the period; armed indeed
with unusual exactness, and mounted on beasts that might have
borne a king to battle. Of these, one carried the two-handed
broadsword of the knight, with its embroidered baldric, and
the small heater-shaped shield, embossed with the same bearing
as his surcoat; the other led his destrier, a tall, full-blooded
Andalusian red-roan, with snow-white mane and tail, barded
for battle. Ponderous, indeed, was the burthen, of both man
and horse, in those days; for the knight's charger bore, in addition
to its huge plated demipique, a chamfort covering the
forehead, connected to a series of stout plates running down
the vertebræ of the neck, and fastened to the saddle-bow; a
poitrel of fluted steel protecting the whole chest and counter,
and the bard proper, guarding the loins and croupe, from the
cantle of the saddle to the tail. All his armature was wrought
point device, to match the harness of the rider, and, like that,
was covered by a housing, as it was termed, of white cloth
rickly laced, and decorated in several places with the same
figure of the chained dragon. From the pommel of the saddle
were slung, one on either hand, a battle-axe of Damascene
steel, and a heavy mace-at-arms. The reins of the bridle
were not composed of leather, but of two plates of metal, a
hand's breadth wide in the centre, but tapering toward the bit
to which they were attached by solid rings, and toward the

[figure description] Page 024.[end figure description]

hand-piece, where they were connected by a stout thong of
bull's hide.

Such were the persons, and such their attire, who lighted
down, a short space before sunset, at the door of the village
tavern, seemingly not a little pleased to have attained its shelter
before the storm should burst, which was already howling
through the forest.

“Matthieu,” exclaimed the knight, as he sprang down from
his palfrey, with a clang and clatter that might have been heard
half a mile off, “Matthieu, good friend, let the men take the
bridles off, and feed the chargers; but bid them on no terms
unbard them, nor lay their armor off themselves. These woods
of Soignies and Ardenne are rarely free of brigands; and
though we have heard tell that those infernal miscreants, Talebard
Talebardin, and the Rouge Batard, have fallen back into
Normandy, before King Philip's host, I hold it likelier far that
they would tarry here in force, to waylay the small parties, such
as mine and five hundred others, which are all straggling up
to the rendezvous at Mirepoix. Look to it, old companion;
and then come in and see what cheer we may find for the night;
sorry enough, I trow; but `better,' as the adage goes, `a beggar's
cassock, that no covering in a storm.' ”

And with these words he entered the single room, which
occupied the whole ground floor of the cabin, serving for
kitchen, hall, and parlor; wherein he found an old and withered
crone, as deaf, apparently, as a stone-wall; for she took
no notice whatever of his entrance, her back being turned as
he stooped under the low doorway, though he made noise
enough, with his jingling spurs and clashing harness, to have
aroused the seven sleepers

“What ho! good dame,” he cried, “canst give us somewhat
to eat, and a drink of good strong wine to warm us this cold
night?” And as he spoke, he flung himself into a huge,

[figure description] Page 025.[end figure description]

oldfashioned settee, by the hearth, the woman gazing at him all
the time with an air of stupid bewilderment, which excited his
mirth to such a degree that he laughed, literally, till the tears
ran down his cheeks; increasing her confusion and dismay by
every succeeding peal of merriment. At length, after sundry
ineffectual efforts, interrupted by fresh shouts of laughter, he
made her comprehend his meaning; and, that once done, she
speedily produced some cold provisions, with a flask or two of
wine, very superior in quality to what could have been expected,
from the appearance of the hut. The joints, however, of roast
boar's flesh, and the venison pastry, which composed the principal
parts of the entertainment, had all suffered considerable
dilapidation; and it was in apologizing for this, that the old
woman let fall some expressions which aroused in an instant
the jealousy of the wary soldier.

“It was a party,” she said, “from Ghent, or Bruges, or
Antwerp it might be, that had passed by at noon with a great
train of merchandise; and such an angel of a lady, so young, and
soft, and tender, and kind-spoken! Poor thing,” she added,
“poor thing! 'twas pity they had rid forth into the forest; but the
Lord's will be done; and if it be his pleasure, sure he can guard
them from the peril —”

“Peril! what peril, dame?” shouted the count, so loudly
that she failed not to hear and comprehend him; “what peril
they should run I know not, unless it be a late ride into Braine-la-Lead;
and it may be a ducking, which, I trow, will scarcely
drown this beautiful bourgeoise. Ha! say what peril?”

“Well, well! she knew not,” she made answer; “the forest
never was over-safe; besides the gray monk of Soignies was
here as they came up, and mingled with their train, and questioned
closely of their route. God send it be all well: I be a
poor, old, helpless thing, and know naught of their doings.”

“By our lady of Bonsecours!” muttered the knight between

[figure description] Page 026.[end figure description]

his teeth, “but it seems to me thou dost know over-much for
honesty;” and then — “Whose doings, mother?” he continued;
“and who is this gray monk of Soignies? or what hath he to
make with their well-doing?”

“Nay, nay! I know not; all the world, I thought, had heard
tell of the gray brother — all the world twenty leagues round.”

“But happening not to dwell within twenty leagues round,
I have not heard tell of the gray brother; so now, I prithee,
dame, enlighten me.”

But by no exhortation, or even threats, could he extort another
word from her; for she had apparently relapsed into
impenetrable deafness, and sat crooning some old ballad over
the hearth, a picture of the most utter imbecility. The knight
pondered for a few minutes deeply; and once he half rose from
his seat, as if to order out his horses; but when he reflected
on the distance they had journeyed without any bait, he sank
down again in the settee, drained a deep draught of wine, and
with his eyes fixed on the embers of the wood-fire, continued
in a fit of musing, until he was interrupted by the entrance of
the old ecuyer Matthieu, and the two men-at-arms, from the
stable.

Bidding his followers take care of themselves, and get to
their food quickly, for he should start again so soon as the
steeds had eaten up their provender, he was again relapsing
into thought, when his squire addressed him suddenly —

“Where be the servants of the inn, beau sire?”

“There be none, Matthieu,” answered the knight very quickly;
“not a soul, save this cursed old witch, who, whether she
be deaf or no, simple or over-quick, by mine honor I am at
loss to tell!”

“Nor be there any hostlers in the stable-yard; though there
be forty stalls of stabling, and corn and hay sufficient for a
squadron, and plenty of dry litter, and signs enow of many

[figure description] Page 027.[end figure description]

horses! Nor is there, for so much as I can learn, one man in
the whole village — if village one may call this heap of filthy
hovels. Not a soul have I seen, but one foxy-headed boy, who
ran away and hid himself, so that we could not find him.”

“I fancy, my good Matthieu,” replied the count quite coolly,
“I fancy we have fallen into a precious den of routiers and
ecorcheurs. The hag let out, I know not what of travellers
who had passed by at noon, and were all like to come to evil;
but I could make naught out of her.”

“So, please you, beau sire,” interrupted one of the men-at-arms,
who had been listening attentively, their own suspicions
having been much awakened; “so, please you, beau sire, but
that I have heard say you do not like such doings, I could
find a way to make her hear, though she were as deaf as the
grave, and answer, too, though she were as dumb as a hedgehog.”

“How so, Clement Mareuil?” asked his master, sternly.
“How could you make this wretched old hag hear, if the
drums of ears be palsied?”

“Easily, beau sire, easily! let me but tie your bunch of
matches between her fingers, and just light the ends, I warrant
me she will tell all her secrets that you shall hear them a
league distant. When I was carrying a free lance in Schoenvelt's
light battalion —”

“Hark thee, Clements,” interrupted the knight; “I have
heard say that Schoenvelt's light battalion was little better than
a band of tondeurs. Himself, I know, though a fierce champion,
and a manly, to have been at the best a barbarous marauder.
Now, mark me! Let me hear such words as these
once more! much more let me hear of your doing deviltries,
such as you phrase so glibely! and, were you the best spear
in Flanders, I would strip you of my bearings, and scourge
you with my stirrup leathers, till your back should be more

[figure description] Page 028.[end figure description]

tender than your mercy! For shame! you a soldier, and
talk of torturing a woman!”

“Nay, nay, beau sire,” answered the man, much abashed;
“pardon me, for I meant no evil. Every one knows that all
the villains hereabout are in league with the gray monk of
Soignies and the Red Bastard. I warrant me this old hag
knows all their haunts as well as I know.”

“Methinks you know too much, Clement,” interposed Matthieu,
“of these routiers thyself. I warrant me, thou countest
fellowship with this Red Bastard!”

“No, no, sir! not so bad as that,” replied the soldier, looking
very much confused; “not I, indeed — though, to say
truly,” he continued, when I served Shoenvelt, there was a
proper man-at-arms among his free companions, as hideous as
the foul fiend to look upon, and as cruel, too, to say the least
of it! and I have heard say he is the man who now bears that
soubriquet. He was base-born, I know; and his hair was as
red as a fox's brush, and twice as coarse. He was a stout
lance, and a right bold rider; but God forbid that I should
count fellowship with such an utter devil!”

“And who is the gray monk of Soignies, sirrah? since
thou knowest all about it,” the knight demanded; “this old
jade spoke of him but now.”

“Ah! ah! I thought so, beau sire. I said as much a while
since. Why, the gray monk is one whom, but that he walks
the earth in human shape, and that I saw him once well nigh
killed in a mêlée, I would swear was the arch enemy of man!
Why, beau sire, it was he who forced the knight of Vitry's
castle, and crucified him over the altar of his own chapel,
while his men violated his wife and his two sisters before his
very eyes!”

“To horse!” exclaimed the knight, springing to his feet;
“to horse, then, on the instant! Away, Clement and Raoul;

[figure description] Page 029.[end figure description]

screw on my casque, Matthieu, and hang my shield about my
neck, and belt me with my espaldron, else shall more villanies
be done this night. To horse, my men, right hastily!”

With the first words of their master the men-at-arms hurried
to the stable to fetch out their chargers, but ere five minutes
had elapsed they both returned, dragging in between them a
stolid-looking, red-haired boy, whom they swore they had
caught on the point of knocking a large spike-nail — which
they produced, together with a hammer, as evidence of the
fact — into the hoof of the knight's roan charger. The old woman's
eye lightened, as the boy was dragged in, for a moment;
but she instantly resumed her appearance of stupidity, and sat,
as before, rocking herself to and fro, and droning over an old
song, careless, apparently, and ignorant of all that passed before
her.

“How now, young villain! For what wouldst thou have
lamed my war-horse?” cried the count, now excited into a
paroxysm of fury. “Speak out! speak out! or, by the God
that made me, base peasant, I will flog thee till all thy bones
are bare, and hang thee afterward, head downward, over those
slow wood-ashes. Speak, or an — thou diest not — my name
is not Hugues de Coucy!”

The boy glared up into his face with an air of stubborn resolution,
but spoke not, nor made any sign.

“Off with thy sword-belt, Clement. Mareuil, bind him to
yon door-post, and lash him till he find his tongue.” His
orders were obeyed upon the instant. The first blow of the
heavy thong fell on the naked shoulders of the peasant, and
instantly a broad, long, livid wheal rose on the withering flesh!
a second, and the blood spirted to the ceiling, as if from a
sword-cut! a third time Clement's arm was raised, and the
stubborn sufferer cowered beneath the lash; when the old hag
sprung up — “A thousand curses on thee, fool! Why dost

[figure description] Page 030.[end figure description]

not tell them that the gray brother gave thee ten Flemish
florins to lame the horse of every traveller should come up ere
sunset, that none might interrupt their doings in the forest?
And now thou knowest it all, sir knight, and much good may
it do thee! for long ere you reach the great chestnut they will
have slain the men-at-arms, and rifled the rich goods, and
worked their will on the wenches! Ha! ha! ha! now go
thy way, sir knight, and make the best on't!”

“Not I, by Heavens, till I have found a guide.”

“There is no better in the country, beau sire,” interrupted
Matthieu, “than Clement. He knows this province for thirty
leagues around, as well as ere a fox that it earths in the forest.
Is it not so, Mareuil?”

“Ay, is it,” answered the vassal, “seeing I was born in it
myself. Yes, yes, beau sire, I can lead you to the great
chestnut, and to the headless cross in the beech woods, and to
the broken bridge, and to every other haunt of these marauders.”

“How didst thou gain this knowledge, Clement? Hast
thou, indeed, consorted with these canaille? Then thou art no
more man of Hugues de Coucy! Off with my cognizances,
sirrah! Get thy ways hence, and deem it mercy I let thee
go alive!”

“No, no! beau sire! These same ecorcheurs, tondeurs, and
pilleurs, as they now call them, were once good honest foresters,
ere the wars made them first fierce soldiers, and then
disbanded depredators, and now barbarous banditti. Many a
deer I've struck with them by moonlight; and all their haunts
and trysting trees I know of old, though twenty years have
passed since I saw Ardenne.”

“Away, then! en avant! Cry Tankarville to horse, and to
the rescue!” And in five minutes space they had buckled on
their weapons, and mounted their war-horses, and rode off at

[figure description] Page 031.[end figure description]

a long, hard trot along the very road, by which the Flemish
merchants had passed, four hours before, into the forest.

“The foul fiend follow ye, and hunt ye to perdition!” exclaimed
the woman, as they rode off clanging from the door,
“and if ye reach the headless cross at daybreak, ye shall find
horse enough to harry ye!”

Dark waxed the night and darker, as they pursued their
way with unabated zeal; and the wind rose, and roared among
the tall trees of the forest, and whirled whole flights of leaves
and many a broken branch away before its furious sweep, and
the clouds blotted the faint stars; and, save that now and then
a flash of lurid lightning flickered across the moonless sky, it
had been palpable and solid gloom.

Onward they rode, still onward! and still the night waxed
wilder. No rain fell from the scudding clouds, but the fierce
wind raved awfully, and the thunder muttered in one continual
dull reverberation from every quarter of the firmament, and the
whole sky was one incessant blaze of blue and sulphurous fire.
The deep road through the forest was illuminated bright as at
noonday; and so full was the atmosphere of the electric fluid,
that a faint lambent flame played constantly about the armor
of the men, and flickered on the points of their weapons — an
awful and appalling sight! yet, as it seemed, innocuous!

Still onward! They rode onward! Night had no terror —
not even such a night as this — for one like Hugues de Coucy,
when his high valor was spurred to its mettle by a high purpose.
Onward! and now they passed the great chestnut-tree,
a landmark known for leagues, but all around was silent
and deserted. They wheeled around an angle of the road,
the lightnings blazed across the causeway, and showed a scene
that might have struck a chill to the most fiery heart. Five
horses were there plunging to and fro, and writhing in minute
agony, hamstrung by the banditti, who had not spared the

[figure description] Page 032.[end figure description]

time, or who had lacked the will, to save them hours of torture.
Beneath the feet of these, mangled and maimed by their
incessant plungings, but, happily, insensible to any pain or
outrage, lay in their curdled gore eight human bodies! Four
stout-armed serving-men, three of them shot into their faces
with barbed arrows, one of them slain outright by a spear-thrust,
a youthful gentleman, an aged steward, or seneschal,
and two unarmed grooms, hacked with unnumbered wounds —
all foully, barbarously slaughtered!

The knight pulled up his charger on the spot; and, at the
moment, a loud cry for aid fell on his sharpened ear.

“Who calls?” he cried, “who calls for succor? In God's
name it is here!”

“I, Arnold Marillon, of Bruges,” he replied, in a faint voice
from the forest, “I am bound here to the oak-tree!”

“Good Lord! mine ancient friend, Marillon! Hold my
horse, Clement Mareuil — hold my horse! Follow, Matthieu!
Be of good cheer, fair master Marillon. It is thine old friend
Hugues de Coucy, whose ransom thou didst pay, in past years,
to Ferrand, earl of Flanders! — all shall yet be well with thee—
ay, by St. Paul, and well avenged!”

In another moment the old man was released from his
bonds, and refreshed by a draught of wine from a huge bottiau,
or leather bottle, which hung at the squire's pommel, was
speedily able to recount his grievances.

A few words told the fatal story. At early evening they
had been ambushed by a band of four robbers only; three of
their armed retainers had been shot down in the first onset,
the other speared by the Red Bastard, and then,” he added,
half suffocated as he spoke by fierce and passionate grief,
“and then they slaughtered, in cold blood, my sister's son —
my dear, my fair-haired William! they slaughtered my old
faithful steward! they slaughtered my poor valets! and they

[figure description] Page 033.[end figure description]

have dragged away my girl, my hope, my more than life! —
Marguerite de Beaufroy — to infamy, and agony, and death!”

“Clement, canst thou guide us farther?”

“To the Red Bastard's presence!”

“Come, then, kind Marillon, take one more draught of wine,
mount on Grey Termagant, and ride with us right hopefully.
What has been done can be, ay, and shall be avenged! but
can not be amended. What is undone as yet, as yet may be
prevented. God and the good saints aid us! and thou mayst
yet embrace thy niece ere daybreak.”

Not a word was more spoken, nor a moment of time wasted.
The old merchant was mounted without delay; and, although
weak and worn by suffering and sorrow, he rode on stoutly by
the side of his deliverer.

All night they rode; but, just as day was breaking, they
reached the summit of a little hill overlooking a marshy valley
intersected by a cross-road, with a thick beech-wood occupying
all the bottom land, and a broken cross of stone in the
centre of the causeway. Before they reached the summit of
the hill, the voice of Clement warned the knight that now or
never they should meet the formidable Routier; and, in effect,
as they crossed the brow, they came in view of the party —
four horsemen, fully though irregularly armed, and three female
figures bent to their saddles with fatigue, and prevented from
falling only by the bonds that fettered them. The clatter of
the knight's approach had warned them of their coming danger;
and sending the women forward to the cross, the brigands
drew themselves up across the road, in readiness to dispute
the passage.

“Tankarville to the rescue! St. Paul! St. Paul for Tankarville;”
and down the gentle slope thundered the knight and
his attendants; while with equal spirit the robbers spurred their
steeds to meet them.

[figure description] Page 034.[end figure description]

“Ha! ha! Saynct Diable!” but his awful war-cry was cut
short, for the Red Bastard, conspicuous by his crimson panoply
and dauntless bearing, had singled out De Coucy, and
charged him with lance in rest with singular prowess; but
though he charged his lance with perfect skill, striking the
very centre of the knight's vizor, and shivering the stout ashpole
to atoms up to the very grasp, De Coucy no more wavered
in his saddle, than he had done for the buffet of a lady's fan!
While his lanced-head pierced sheer through shield and plastron,
corselet and shirt of mail, and spitting the marauder through
and through came out at his back-piece, the shaft snapping
short some two feet from the champion's gauntlet! though slain
outright, the routier sat his horse stiffly; and, as the knight's
charger still swept on, he was in the act of passing Hugues,
when the latter, not perceiving that he was slain, stood up in
his stirrups and smote him such a blow on the head-piece with
the truncheon of his broken lance, that all the fastenings of the
vizor burst, the avantaille flew open, and the hideous face of
the Red Routier was displayed, livid with the hues of death, and
writhing with the anguish of the parting struggle! De Coucy's
followers had fared as well as he, for two of the marauders,
the antagonists of Clement Mareuil and old Matthieu, were
killed in the first shock; but the priest shivered his spear fairly
with Raoul and passing by him unharmed, darted into the
beechwood, and escaped.

For a moment it seemed as though the field were won, and
the women rescued; it was, however, but for a moment! for
scarcely was that onset over, before the thundering sound of a
large body of armed horse came down the two cross-roads,
blended with the clangor of dissonant horns, and wild yells,
and savage outcries.

“Ha! ha! Saynct Diable!” Talebard Talebardin to the
rescue!” and, wheeling down like lightning through both

[figure description] Page 035.[end figure description]

avenues, thirty of forty savage-looking, irregular horse drove, with
their spears in rest, against the little party of De Coucy.

The champion's lance was broken; yet undaunted, he encountered
the front rank; three lances shivered against his
coat of proof, but shook him not a hair's breadth in his stirrups.
Three sweeping blows of his two-handed sword! and three
steeds ran masterless, while their riders rolled under the hoofs
in the death struggle. But one man, though a hero, can not
succeed against a host. As he raised his sword for a fourth
stroke, a thundering blow of a mace or battle-axe was dealt him
from behind, and at the same instant a lance point was driven
through the eye into his charger's brain. Down he went,
horse and man, and when he recovered his senses from the
shock, a man in plain, bright armor was kneeling on his breast;
and the point of a dagger, thrust between the bars of his avantaille,
was razing the skin of his face.

“Yield thee, sir knight, or die! Yield! rescue or no rescue!”

“To whom must I yield me! though it avail me naught to
ask it?” inquired the haughty baron, retaining all his pride and
all his fiery valor.

“To me — Talebard Talebardin!”

“I! — I! — I, Hugues de Coucy, yield me to such a slave as
thou art — to a murtherer of old men in cold blood — a violator
of ladies — a torturer of babes and suckling! sacrilegious dog!
base knave! thief! traitor! liar! vassal! do thy worst, I defy
thee!”

“Ha! my most noble baron, is it thou?” answered the ruffian
perfectly unmoved. “I might have guessed as much, by
thy bold bearing — Nay! nay! we do not stick such lambs as
thou art, for their flesh's sake, we save them for their ransoms!
Here, Croquart, Picard, Jean Le Noir, bind this sweet baron,
hand and foot; and strip him of his gay feathers straightway;
but harm him not upon your lives. By all the fiends in hell,

[figure description] Page 036.[end figure description]

his ransom will bring fifty thousand crowns of the sun right
readily! So that is briefly settled!”

And with the words, he rose from the chest of the knight;
and resigning him to the hands of his subordinate ruffians,
walked off to examine the field of battle, and the booty which
had fallen into his hands. The latter comprised the miserable
Marguerite half rescued only to be again enthralled with her
two serving-women; the old merchant, Arnold Morillon, and
the stout baron Hugues de Coucy. Six of the routiers had
been slain, beside the Rouge Batard; four of the number by
the hand of Hugues! The men-at-arms, Raoul and Clement
had both died fighting to the last; but dead or living, Matthieu
de Montmesnil, the old esquire, was to be found nowhere.
And it is doubtful, whether, as the knight was borne away into
captivity, he did not regret more deeply than either his own
defeat or the seizure of the women, the disgrace of the veteran
warrior who had fought by the side of his father; and who according
to the rules of chivarly, should have died under shield
dauntless, rather than leave his lord, captive or dead, upon the
field of honor.

CHAPTER III. THE ESQUIRE.

[figure description] Page 037.[end figure description]

It was about eleven o'clock of the morning, on a fine clear
autumnal day, which had succeeded to a night of storm and
fury, that a single wayfarer might have been seen seated beside
the brink of a small consecrated well on the roadside between
Braine la Leud and Brussels. The road, at that period,
lay stretching far through an unbroken forest, which indeed
covered the whole face of the country for many a league in
circuit, with but a few small tracts of cultivated land, smiling
like sheltered oases amid the wide waste of green leaves and
waving fern, that clothed both vale and upland. It would
have been impossible for a poet's fancy to conceive, or painter's
hand to delineate a spot more singularly picturesque, more
lonely or romantic, than that which had been chosen for a
resting-place by the worn traveller, a small sequestered nook
between three short but abrupt hills, which closed it in on
every side save one, where down a narrow gorge, the head of
a broad valley, the waters of the little fountain welled with a
gentle murmur, soon to be lost in the turbulent channel of some
larger but not purer streamlet. The spring-head of this crystal
streamlet was sheltered from the sun and air by a small
vault of freestone, wrought in rich Gothic fret-work, and surmounted
by a cross of rare workmanship; an iron cup was
attached to the margin of the basin by a chain, and a stone
bench, over-canopied by a huge ash-tree, afforded a pleasant
resting-place to voyager or pilgrim. Behind the well
there rose a tall, rough bank of sand, within which was the

[figure description] Page 038.[end figure description]

birthplace of those limpid waters, all overgrown with wildflowers,
and running with long wreaths of eglantine and honeysuckle,
and all around it the tall Titans of the forest reared
their great heads exulting in the sunshine, which bathed their
airy tops in floods of yellow lustre, while all their lower limbs
and moss-grown boles, and the soft, green sward at their feet,
were steeped in cool, blue shadows. The sandy road, which
wound through this deep solitude, seemed little travelled —
for no wheel-tracks and but few hoof-prints could be traced
along its yielding surface — not a sound was to be heard except
the gentle breath of the morning air whispering constantly
among the ash-leaves, and low gurgle of the rivulet, and now
and then the sudden song of the thrush or blackbird bursting
out from the thickets in a gush of liquid ecstasy, and hushed
almost immediately into repose and silence. So seldom, too,
it would appear, were human beings seen in that sylvan district,
that an unwonted tameness was perceptible among the
animal creation. Several small birds hopped down into the
road, and even ventured up to drink or lave their disordered
plumage in the little channel which wound across the path,
within a few yards of the man's feet who sat there silently; all
overdone with travel. Nay, more, a wild deer came out from
the copse on the farther side, and gazed about it for a moment,
and eyed the strange forms with some apparent apprehension;
but seeing that he moved not, drank its fill of the stream, and
only when the man raised his head from his hand whereon he
had been resting, did it bound away with startled speed into
the deeper woodlands.

It was the man himself who gave the point and character to
the scene; for he was such a one as least of all would have
been expected in that place. He was an old man, as could be
seen at once, even before he lifted up his face, for his hair
was as white as snow, though singularly long and abundant;

[figure description] Page 039.[end figure description]

but, when he moved his dense and shaggy eyebrows, his large
mustache, and pointed beard, all of the same silvery hue,
confirmed the first impression, although the sunburnt and somewhat
ruddy hues of his complexion, and the full, bright black
eye, should have belonged to one many years his junior. His
dress was as much unsuited to a foot-traveller, as it was easy
to see he was; for, besides that he had no horse or any beast
of burden, his feet and lower limbs were all besmirched and
stained with clay and mud of twenty different colors, caught,
it would seem, from as many different sloughs and quagmires,
as his being there at all seemed old and unaccountable. It
was a complete suite of the heaviest horse-armor then in fashion,
consisting of a very solid corslet, or cuirass of plate, worn
over a loose shirt of chain-mail, the sleeves of which protected
his arms, while his legs and feet were guarded by hose of the
same material, and splendid shoes of steel. His helmet lay
on the ground beside him, with its crest bruised and dented,
and the avantaille wrenched quite away from the sockets.
Above his armor he wore a cassock of buff-leather, guarded on
the seams with lace, and embroidered on the breast with the
cognizance of a chained dragon — but it was sorely rent and
defaced, and cut quite through in many places, and dabbled
with fresh stains of gore, and soiled as if with clay. His
mail, moreover, was much battered; blood might be seen
oozing from beneath the rivets of his gorget, and trickling
down his right arm from the shoulder.

He was very faint, too, and weary, as it seemed from his uncertain,
vacillating movements; yet he did not wait a long time,
before having bathed his face and hands in the cool water, and
gathered up his battered casque and gauntlets, he arose from
his seat, and, supporting himself on the truncheon of a broken
lance, which was the only offensive weapon he carried, except
a long and formidable dagger at his belt, took the road,

[figure description] Page 040.[end figure description]

dragging his legs wearily along, that led toward Brussels. He
had not, however, taken many steps before the tramp of a horse
coming down the road at a light gallop caught his ear, and the
next moment the rider crossed the brow of the hill, meeting
him face to face at a short distance off. It was a gay and
handsome boy, splendidly mounted on a bright blood bay Arab,
dressed in a gambesoon of fine white cloth, with horse of the
same fabric, and russet-leather buskins, all richly laced with
gold, and blazoned on the breast with the same bearing that
decked the old man's cassock. Under the gambesoon he had
a light shirt of linked mail, the edges of which were visible,
and the neck and sleeves, polished as bright as silver, but on
his head he wore only a cap of embroidered velvet with a tall
plume.

The moment his eye fell on the old man, staggering feebly
up the slope, he checked his horse and sprang from the saddle.

“Mother of God!” he cried in tones expressive of more
consternation than could be deemed befitting an eleve of chivalry. —
“Matthieu Montmesnil in this plight! Where is our
lord? Speak, man, where is Sir Hugues de Coucy?”

“Prisoner! — Ermold de Clermont. Prisoner to that base
villain, Talebard Talebardin!”

“Now, by St. Paul!” replied the boy, his face flushing fiery
red, “I scarce can credit mine own ears! Hugues de Coucy
yield him a prisoner to a churl — a base and cruel robber!
That would I not believe, though I did see it happen. Thou
art mad, Montmesnil, to say so.”

“I did not say so, Ermold,” answered the old man, in a
broken voice, “sooner would I bite out my tongue with my
teeth, that it should tell dishonor of the Coucy. Nathless,
prisoner he is, and to that same marauder. When he refused
to yield him, rescue or no rescue, they stripped his armor off
and bound him, hand and foot, and keep him for his ransom.”

[figure description] Page 041.[end figure description]

“And thou didst see this? — Thou! thou! Matthieu de
Montmesnil! didst thou see our lord bound like a beast before
the shambles, and madest not in to rescue or die with him!
Now, by St. Paul! I do believe thy wounds have made thee
mad, that thou dost lie upon thyself — for from no other tongue
of man beside thine own would I believe thee coward, and
recreant, and traitor! nor do I now believe it. Oh! say, Mattheiu,
say it is false that thou hast spoken! Say anything but
that thou hast fled and left thy lord in durance!”

“I may say nothing but the truth,” returned the other perfectly
unmoved; “yet hear me out, Ermold — thus it fell out:
To be short, we found last night in the forest, good Master
Morillon of Bruges, bound to an oak-tree, and his fair nephew
and his train all foully slaughtered; and learned how that they
had been beset by the Rouge Batard; and the young lady,
Marguerite, carried off with her maidens. And so we mounted
Master Morillon upon Gray Termagant, and rode off all
night, and at the break of day came on the rogues in the little
vale of the headless cross, and charged them lustily. Our
lord bored the Red Bastard through and through, as a cook
spits an ortolan; and Clement de Mareuil and I, each slew his
man in the tourney; but Raoul broke his lance with the gray
monk of Soignies, and so the robber-priest 'scaped harmless.
And just at that same instant, while our steeds were blown
and all our lances splintered, lo! you, down came by the two
cross-roads, Talebard Talebardin, with thirty men or more,
yelling or howling like incarnate fiends, charged us in front and
rear, and bore us down in a moment. Sir Hugues slew three
men, at three blows, outright with his two-handed sword; and
I and the rest did our best — but the roan horse was thrust
into the eye with a spear-point, and our lord felled to the pummel
with a mace — and Clement and Raoul were slain in a
moment — and I was badly hurt, for my horse went down

[figure description] Page 042.[end figure description]

rolling over me, when it was a minute ere I could get loose.
And ere I did so, Sir Hugues was fast bound; and so, when I
saw that his life was safe, and that there was no chance of
rescue — knowing right well that they would stick the 'squire
like a pig, though they might spare the knight — I crawled
into the thicket while the robbers were all thronging round our
lord; but ere I had got off a spear's length, the gray priest, who
was hurrying back to join his comrades, caught me fast by the
throat — but I put my dagger into him, up to the dudgeon hilt,
under his corslet rim. And here I am, no recreant nor coward!
hey, Ermold?”

“No, no; forgive me, Matthieu, the rash word, But I was
half distraught, when thou didst say our lord was prisoner to
the incarnate fiends. But how didst thou come hither — hast
walked six leagues since day-break in thine harness; and what
wilt thou now do, to get our good lord free?”

“Only five leagues, Ermold — only five leagues, or a little
over; and that were no great thing, but that my harness is, as
thou sayest, not the best gear for walking — and that being
wounded, I can not move so lustily as common; but for the rest,
I came hither, Master Ermold, first to meet thee, whom I knew
to be on the route by this time, with tidings from Sir Raimond
of Fontanges — not that thine arm is strong enough to do much
in a melée, but that thy heart is true, and thy wit somewhat
quick and pregnant. And now let us take counsel. And,
first, what news bringest thou from the beau sire Raimond?”

“That he will meet our lord the tenth day hence with sixty
lances, before the walls —”

“Too late! — the tenth day hence — too late for any purpose,”
answered the old man; “then must we on to Brussels;
though I trow the churl burghers will scarce unbuckle their
fat bags to pay Sir Hugues' ransom, much less take bow and
spear to save him.”

[figure description] Page 043.[end figure description]

“No, no; that is no scheme at all. Besides, it is keen steel,
and not red gold, that must be ransom for De Coucy. We
must fall in and rescue him by the strong hand.”

“If the strong heart could make the strong hand, Ermold,”
said the old warrior, smiling with a half-melancholy glance of
admiration at the kindling eye and noble features of the gallant
boy, “then wert thou champion such as rarely has couched
lance in Flanders. But Heaven preserve thy wits; there be
thirty spears at least of these marauders; and we be an old
wounded man and a weak boy! 'Twill not do, Ermold, though
dearly would I buy it, if it would.”

“Ay! but it will, though — ay! but it will, though — for not
three miles hence, marching hitherward — I passed them an
hour since, for they rode slowly not to break down their
destries — are thirteen lances of Franche Compté, stont, free
companions, every one of them, under the leading of Geoffroy
`Tete-Noir.' I have two thousand gold crowns in my
wallet, and we will buy them to the deed, and win our master
from his chains, and save the beautiful Marguerite — God send
we may! — for she was very kind to me when I lay ill and
sorely hurt in Bruges, and gain ourselves high honor!”

“Brave boy! brave boy! 'twill do! turn thy nag straight,
ride like the wind to meet them, and bring them hither with
all good speed to the fountain; there will I tarry and bind my
wounds up something, for they shoot now, though I felt them
not a while since.”

No more words were needed; the page wheeled his fleet
Arab round, and touching him with the spur, darted away like
an arrow from the bow, and crossed the hill-top, and was out of
sight in a moment. The aged esquire in the meantime, dragged
himself back to the well, and, his immediate apprehensions
quelled, set about unriveting his armor and binding up his
wounds in earnest. As he did so, however, he muttered to

[figure description] Page 044.[end figure description]

himself, “It is for the last time! the last, most surely! I but
must needs have all the strength I may for the stern struggle —
stern it will be, I warrant me! and then will I die under shield
freely, and willingly. Thou knowest!” he added, turning his
eyes reverentially upward, “so I may see him free!”

Scarcely had he finished his brief soliloquy, before the heavy
clang of armor was heard coming up the hill at the trot; and
shortly afterward the spear-heads and bright pennons of the
men-at-arms were seen glittering above the bushes; and then
the party wheeled into full view, fourteen stout cavaliers, all
well-armed in bright suits of Flanders iron, with two or three
led horses, and a mule or two loaded with pieces of spare
armor, lances, and provender, and several skins of wine. The
leader, a very powerful man, whose jet black hair, beard and
mustaches, curling in fierce luxuriance, justified fully his
soubriquet of Tête-Noir, was busied in deep converse with
Ermold the page, although by the heavy frown that lowered
on his brow, and the half-despondent look of the boy, it appeared
that he was not yet wrought to conviction.

As they reached the little hollow by the fountain, their
trumpet sounded a halt; and while the leader dismounted, and
strode up to question Montmesnil, the men picketed their horses,
and prepared for the morning meal.

At first the chief of the free companions appeared reluctant
to engage in the adventure, alleging the superior numbers of
the marauders, the difficulty of finding them, and the prejudices
of his men, who might not be willing to attack men of a class
from which — though considering themselves soldiers of honor—
they were not, after all, very far removed.

Here, however, it seems he counted without his host, for
one of the others, a sort of lieutenant or second in command,
called out loudly when he heard the words of his leader, denying,
with a fearful imprecation, that they had aught to do

[figure description] Page 045.[end figure description]

anything in common with such low thieves as Talebardin. “Besides,”
he added, “it were foul sin and shame, to suffer such a
knight as Hugues de Coucy to linger in such durance without
blow stricken in the cause. Why, before God! we should be
held the shame and scorn of all France! No! no! Geoffroy,
let the page shell out the two thousand crowns here, and let
the 'squire pledge us his master's honor, provided we redeem
him man and armor, and set the damsels free — five thousand
more to be paid down in Brussels, at good St. Martin's tide —
and we will breakfast here, and ride right on and win him with
war weapons!”

The bargain was soon concluded, and after a hearty meal
the trumpet again blew to horse; and Matthieu being provided
with a fresh casque and other arms, and mounted on one of
the led chargers, they rode off at a round pace, for the vale of
the headless cross.

Two hours' hard riding brought them to the spot, which was
still marked distinctly with the dread tokens of the fray, several
dead horses lay upon the spot, among others the roan Andalusian
of the knight, despoiled of his rare armor and magnificent
housings, and the bodies of Clement and Raoul, where they
had fallen; and all the road was poached up by the hoofs of
the heavy chargers, and the gore stood in many a hoof-track
curdled and horrible. But fearful as such a spectacle would
be deemed now-a-days, it was of occurrence too frequent, at
that time, to create any wonder or disgust in the bosoms, even
of the young and delicate of either sex, much less in these
stern soldiers. They halted, however, on the spot, and examined
the ground very closely. And here they would probably
have been entirely at fault had they been soldiers of a more
regular order; for there was no distinct track from the place
leading away in any one direction, but, as it seemed, the whole
party had dispersed to every quarter of the compass, leaving

[figure description] Page 046.[end figure description]

no clew whereby they might be followed to their haunts. It
was not long, however, before the sagacity of the free companions
detected the probable direction; and the troop again got
into motion, though their movements were now slower and far
more guarded than they had been heretofore. After crossing
the forest for about an hour, they reached a wide glade or
woodtrack, through which it was evident that the marauders
had passed, for the greensward was cut up by prints of hoofs,
which one of the free lances confidently asserted to be the
same as those he had examined in the vale of the cross. A
closer investigation proved that they must have passed very
recently, for a fresh blood-drop was discovered on the grass,
still wet, which must have fallen from some wounded rider or
spurgalled horse's flank.

Here, then, a second halt was held, and three or four of the
most sagacious men were sent off in different directions, to reconnoitre
the positions of the enemy. It was not many minutes
before the first returned, bearing the tidings that they were
close at hand, halted, as it seemed, for the evening, in a small
green savannah, half circled by a swampy streamlet. The
others soon came in confirming their comrade's tidings, and
bringing the further intelligence, that they were eight-and-twenty
men, well, although variously armed — that their horses were
picketed close by, while the troopers were feasting around a
fire which they had kindled — the knight heavily ironed, and
the females lying a short way aloof, under a clump of trees,
while some of the leaders of the party appeared to be throwing
dice for the possession of their fairer captives.

Few minutes were required to form the plan of action. It
was necessary to ford the brook a little way above the meadow,
where the routiers lay, so as to gain firm ground and space for
a charge; and before doing this, Geoffroy Tête-Noir examined
the girths and stirrup-leathers of every charger in his troop,

[figure description] Page 047.[end figure description]

inspected all the arms in silence, and then, lowering his vizor,
mounted his strong charger. And here the indomitable valor
of old Matthieu shone out resplendent. He was so worn with
his wounds and weariness, that for the last ten miles he had
hardly been able to keep his saddle; but now he roused and
kindled to the fray, as an old war-horse to the blast of trumpets.
All prayers of Ermold, all exhortations of the condottierii, that
he would remain at rest till the fray was over, were unheeded—
scorned — before even Geoffroy Tête-Noir he rode in the
van.

They forded the stream with success, they wheeled around
the hill-side, and made ready for the onset, but in the meantime
the clash and clang of their coming, aroused the routiers,
and they sprang hastily to their arms. Most of them were
indeed mounted — but all were in confusion, and many scarcely
firm in their saddles, when the free companions poured like a
torrent down the hill — “Tête-Noir — Tête-Noir for Tankarville!
De Coucy to the rescue and charge home!”

The shock was terrible, the fight was fought out furiously.
The superior numbers, and the despair of the routiers, would
have perhaps counterbalanced the better horses, and more
complete equipment of the men-at-arms, but the disarray in
which they were taken, was fearfully against them; the giant
strength of Tête-Noir, the high and fiery valor of old Montmesnil,
and the mad impetuosity of the page Ermold, who
fought in his laced jerkin, foremost among the lances, swept
the marauders down like chaff before the whirlwind.

Ere yet the strife was ended, while the robbers, driven back
to the streamlet's brink, were striving desperately to escape,
and the free lances as desperately bearing them to the earth,
Matthieu had hewed his way through the mêlée, and reached
his liege lord, who had started up from the ground, but was
prevented by his bonds from joining in the fray. A stream of

[figure description] Page 048.[end figure description]

gore was pouring from the old man's vizor, and from a dozen
rents in his plate armor, and he so staggered as he leaped to
the ground, that he had well nigh fallen; yet he rushed up to
Hugues de Coucy, and with his dagger wrenched out the rivets
from his manacles and fetters, and tore them from the limbs of
his loved lord. Then he sank down upon his knees and
clasped the knight's legs with his aged arms, and wet his feet
with honest, loyal tears.

“Thou art free — thou art free,” he cried, “my master! thou
art free, and I die rejoicing! yet say, before I die, thou pardonest
my leaving thee when captive, for to this end I left
thee, to this end only. Say, master, that I died thy true and
loyal 'squire!”

“No! by St. Paul of Tankarville,” the knight exclaimed,
“no! by St. Paul of Tankarville! — but a true knight and
loyal!” — and with the word he stooped and took the old man's
sword out of his hand, and striking him slightly on the shoulder,
he continued, “for with thine own sword — nor ever was a
better! — I dub thee knight — before the ladies, before God
and good St. George! Rise up, good knight and gallant —
Sir Matthieu de Montmesnil,” and he raised him to his feet as
he spoke, and opened his vizor, and kissed his ashy brow.
But a mighty gleam of exultation flashed over the features of
the dying man, and he gasped out with a faint voice, but joyous
accents, “A knight! a knight — and by the honored hand of
the Coucy! Too much — oh, too, too much!”

Then the count, seeing that his spirit was on the point of
taking flight, laid him on the ground softly, and took his hand
and knelt in tears beside him.

“When I am gone,” the old man feebly gasped, “make —
Ermold, thine esquire! — for though young, he is true, and —
and valiant! Bury my sword beside me — farewell — De
Coucy — and forget not old — old Matthieu!”