The Iron Pincers or Mylio and Karvel Part 7

MYLIO (calm and dignified)--"Foulques of Bercy, your men are superfluous. Fetch a sword. Mine lies in the pavilion of verdure. By G.o.d! If you are a man this Court of Love will be transformed into an enclosed field and these fair ladies into the judges of the combat!"

FOULQUES (furious)--"Vile serf, I shall punish your insolence with my cane! Down on your knees, villain!"

MYLIO (mockingly)--"By heaven! If your charming wife Emmeline heard you make such threats she would say to you: 'Dear friend, do not insult in that manner Mylio--he is a better man than you; he may hurt you!'"

At the cutting repartee, Foulques bounds from his seat. One of the n.o.blemen in the audience draws his sword, and pa.s.sing it over to the Seigneur of Bercy, says: "Avenge the affront, kill the villein as you would a dog!" Mylio, unarmed, crosses his arms over his breast and defies his adversary. But Goose-Skin, who, yielding to a first impulse of poltroonery had fled to the Prison of Love where Mylio's sword lay, hears the threats of Foulques, and realizing the danger the trouvere runs, takes the sword, returns in haste, and the very moment when the Seigneur of Bercy rushes sword in hand upon Mylio, the latter hears behind him the panting voice of the juggler, saying: "Here is your sword; defend yourself; defend both of us; if you do not I shall be cut into shreds by virtue of our friends.h.i.+p. Oxhorns! Why did we run into this hornets' nest!"

MYLIO (takes his sword and puts himself in a position of defence)--"Thanks, my old Goose-Skin! I shall work for us both! Just watch!"

All in a tremble the juggler shelters himself behind Mylio. Foulques of Bercy, on his part, surprised at seeing the trouvere suddenly armed, remains for a moment in perplexity. A knight is free to kill a defenceless villein, but to cross steel with one is to disgrace himself.

MYLIO--"What, Foulques! You are afraid! Your wife's warning has convinced you! You fear I may hurt you!"

FOULQUES OF BERCY (emitting a cry of rage and furiously attacking the trouvere)--"You lie in your throat! Dog!"

MYLIO (defending himself and goading Foulques of Bercy with biting mockery)--"I know Emmeline and I know she knows you. Did she not tell you more than once not to get heated lest your adversary whip you?"

FOULQUES OF BERCY (fighting with redoubled impetuosity)--"Death and fury! I must have his life!"

MYLIO (defending himself and still goading the Seigneur of Bercy with his irritating jests)--"She knows you so well for a coward that she made me promise her I would not tell on you when you ran away from a fight, or nicely swallowed an affront."

GOOSE-SKIN (keeping safely entrenched behind the trouvere)--"Oxhorns!

Control your tongue! He will have neither pity nor mercy for us! You are driving him so mad that he will have us broiled alive."

FOULQUES OF BERCY (fighting with unabated fury and increased rage at being unable to wound Mylio)--"Blood of Christ! The vile vagabond manages his sword like a knight!"

The combat continues a while longer, with ferocity on the knight's part and imperturbable deliberation on the part of the trouvere, in the center of a circle that consists of the audience and the members of the Court, without either the trouvere or the knight being wounded. Both are strong men and dexterous in the use of weapons. The huge body of Goose-Skin, behind the trouvere, according as the latter's evolutions compel him to move over the ground, jumps. .h.i.ther and thither, backward and forward. His enormous paunch wobbles, he puffs for breath; he seems to be suffocating. Finally, the trouvere ably parries a terrible blow aimed at him by the seigneur and immediately plunges his sword into the knight's thigh. The knight roars with rage, staggers and drops backward upon the blood-stained sward. The witnesses to the combat hurry to bring aid to the vanquished, and for an instant forget the trouvere.

GOOSE-SKIN (out of breath and still holding himself behind Mylio)--"Ouf!

The big scamp gave us a deal of trouble before we could bring him down.

But now, Mylio, take my advice. Let us profit by the tumult and pull our legs out of the trap."

Suddenly the loud sound of trumpets is heard at the further end of the avenue of trees, and almost immediately a large body of knights, armed cap-a-pie, wearing on their shoulders the cross of the Crusaders and covered with dust, are seen entering the avenue at a gallop. Among them, and also on horseback, is Abbot Reynier, the superior of the monks of Citeaux, clad in his white robe. Equerries follow the train bearing the banners of their respective seigneurs. Arrived at the bridge that intersects the broad avenue of trees, the seigneurs alight.

"The Crusaders! They are back from the Holy Land!" is the affrighted cry that goes up from the gathering of n.o.ble ladies and knights congregated at the Court of Love, and taken by surprise by their homing husbands.

The latter mistake the cry for a welcome, and run across the bridge shouting joyfully: "Yes, dear wives! We are back from the Holy Land!

Eleven we departed, and eleven we return, thanks to the miraculous protection of the Lord!"

"And of the good St. Arnold, the patron of deceived husbands!" added Goose-Skin aside, as he profited by the tumult created by the new arrivals to slip into the avenue with the trouvere. "What a droll and lucky accident! It is the return of the eleven husbands of your eleven sweethearts that saves you from the ire of that crowd! I shall split my sides with laughter!"

Thanks to the general commotion, the trouvere and the juggler make good their escape, while the eleven doughty crusading knights gladfully call their n.o.ble wives to them. The Canoness Deliane, being the only unmarried one of the twelve who met in the orchard of the Lady of Ariol, remains behind. The eleven wives rush into the arms of the valiant crusaders, who, blackened as moles and dusty as tramps, rejoice in the embrace of their faithful spouses.

The first ebullitions of joy having somewhat subsided, Abbot Reynier, clad in the long white robe of the monks of Citeaux, ascends the throne that was until recently occupied by Marphise, the Queen of the Court of Love; commands silence, and, like a new Cuckoo Peter, as Peter the Hermit was popularly called, prepares to spread a new Crusade--this time at home. The Crusade that he has in contemplation is not to the Holy Land. The faith now calls for a raid upon the heretics of the south of Gaul. Silence reigns, and Abbot Reynier, the sycophantic debauchee, who, driven by his concupiscence, only the evening before clandestinely crept into the close of the mill of Chaillotte, addresses the a.s.sembly, not in the savage and fiery language of Peter the Hermit, but in measured words, cold and trenchant as the iron of an axe:

"I have accompanied hither the seigneurs Crusaders, who, anxious to meet their chaste wives, hasten to this place where we find the most ill.u.s.trious seigneurs of Touraine a.s.sembled. Ye n.o.ble seigneurs, learned trouveres and n.o.ble ladies who hear me, the time is past for frivolous games. The enemy is at our gates. The province of Languedoc has become the hot-bed of an execrable heresy, that is slowly invading the rest of Gaul, and menaces the three sanctuaries, arch-sanctuaries of the land--the Church, the Royalty and the n.o.bility. The wildest of these heretical miscreants, worse by far than the Saracens themselves, take their arguments from the primitive Evangelium and deny both the authority of the Church and the privileges of the seigneurs; they declare the equality of men; they brand as a theft all wealth in the hands of those who did not produce it; worst of all they hold that 'the serf is the equal of the seigneur, and that he who does not work neither shall he eat'!"

SEVERAL n.o.bLES' VOICES--"This is infamous! This is insanity! To death with the miscreants!"

ABBOT REYNIER--"It is insanity, it is infamous; furthermore, it is dangerous. The sectaries of this heresy gain daily new proselytes. Their leaders, who are all the more vicious and pernicious seeing they affect to practice the reforms that they preach, acquire in that way a detestable influence over the populace. Their pastors, who replace our own holy Catholic priests, have themselves called 'Perfects.' Finally, in their infernal criminality, they seek to render their own lives exemplary! It is high time that they be exterminated!"

SEVERAL n.o.bLES' VOICES--"The wretches! The hypocrites! To death with the felons!"

ABBOT REYNIER--"Languedoc, that fertile region that abounds in wealth, is in a frightful condition. The Catholic clergy are despised; the royal authority is hardly recognized; the n.o.bility is no less humbled than the Church herself, and, shocking to say! unheard-of outrage! the n.o.bility of the region is almost wholly infected by the d.a.m.nable heresy.

Everywhere replaced by popular magistrates, and stripped of all special privileges, the seigneurs are confounded among the common people.

Serfdom no longer exists in that country; the n.o.bility works its fields in common with their tenants. Counts and viscounts are seen there engaged in commerce like bourgeois, and growing rich by traffic!

Finally, and as if to cap the climax of abomination, the n.o.bility frequently marries Jewish wives, the daughters of opulent merchants!"

SEVERAL n.o.bLES' VOICES--"Shame! Abomination of desolation! It will be the ruin of Christendom! That calls for vengeance! To the sack with Languedoc! Death to the heretics!"

ABBOT REYNIER--"It is both a shame and a terrible danger, my brothers and sisters. The heresy is spreading amain. If it triumphs, the Church is done for, and so are royalty and n.o.bility. The ma.s.ses lose the sense of terror for h.e.l.l that we inculcate. We would then be compelled to renounce our rights, our land, our property. We would be forced to bid adieu to the happy and comfortable life that we lead. We would have to resign ourselves to live by work like the serfs, the rustics and the bourgeois. We would be condemned to help ourselves with our hands! What a distressing perspective!"

SEVERAL n.o.bLES' VOICES--"It is the end of the world! It is chaos! An end must be put to these heretics! They must be exterminated!"

ABBOT REYNIER--"In order to stamp out this heresy we must make a Crusade against Languedoc! Such a war would be but play for so many valiant men who have traveled as far as the Holy Land to fight the Saracens, and it would be even more meritorious in the eyes of G.o.d."

THE ELEVEN CRUSADERS (in chorus)--"Blood of Christ! We have just arrived from Palestine; if G.o.d wills it, we are ready to start to-morrow for Languedoc!"

THE ELEVEN WIVES (heroically)--"Go, Oh, valiant husbands! We are resigned to everything that the service of G.o.d commands! We are resigned even to the sacrifice of having you absent! Depart immediately, ye champions of the Church! May St. Joseph protect us."

ABBOT REYNIER--"I expected no less from the faith of these valorous knights and from the courage and devotion of their worthy spouses! Oh, dear brothers! If the Crusade to the Holy Land Paradise wins to us, know that the Crusade against Languedoc, a deed that is pious and terrestrial in one, will win for you a double Paradise from G.o.d. You will enjoy the heavenly Paradise after death, and before death you will enjoy the terrestrial Paradise of the fertile lands that you will conquer and divide among yourselves! Such is the will of our Holy Father Innocent III. The holy pontiff has issued to us, his servitor, the order to preach this holy war of extermination. I shall read to you, my beloved brothers and sisters, the letter that he has addressed to us on this occasion:

"INNOCENT III TO HIS DEARLY BELOVED SON REYNIER, ABBOT OF CITEAUX:

"We hereby order you to bring to the knowledge of all princes, counts and seigneurs of your province that we summon them to a.s.sist you against the heretics of Languedoc; and that, when they shall have arrived in that country, they banish out of it all those whom you, my son Reynier, shall excommunicate; confiscate their goods, and apply towards them the extreme punishment in case they persist in their heresy. We enjoin all Catholics to arm themselves against the heretics of Languedoc whenever my son Reynier may call upon them so to do, and we grant to those who take part in this expedition for the defence of the faith the property of the heretics and all and the same indulgences that we accord to those who depart on the Crusade to Palestine. Up, then, soldiers of Christ! Up, then militia-men of the holy militia! Exterminate impiety with all the means that G.o.d may reveal unto you. Fight the heretics with vigorous and merciless hands by waging against them a harder war than against the Saracens, because they are worse. And let the orthodox Catholics be established on all the domains that now belong to the heretics. Amen!"[3]

The last words of the letter of Pope Innocent III add fuel to the religious enthusiasm of the audience. The n.o.ble seigneurs have often heard about the industriousness of the inhabitants of the south of Gaul.

They have heard how the people of that region have grown wealthy through a commerce that extends over the Orient and Greece, Italy and Spain; they have heard the praises sung of the soil of Languedoc, which, admirably cultivated, overflows with wine, grain and oil, and abounds in cattle. The conquest of the new and veritable "promised land" is easy. The journey is only about a hundred leagues' distance. What is such a little trip to these doughty fighters, many of whom have traveled as far as Palestine in search of a quarrel? Abbot Reynier's preaching is, accordingly, crowned with completest success. The wives, delighted at being rid again of their husbands, and counting upon their share of the booty of Languedoc, incite the gallant knights to enter again and as soon as possible upon the road of the Crusader against the heretics.

What can there be clearer than the heresy of Languedoc? Have not the bedeviled fellows, by abolis.h.i.+ng in their south of Gaul the delightful privileges, thanks to which the n.o.ble ladies of the north of Gaul live in luxury, pleasures, idleness and libertinage without other thought than to make love, endangered all the delights in the north of Gaul also? Accordingly, mindful of the possible contagion of such a pestilence, and shuddering at the bare thought of their, n.o.ble dames that they are, being reduced to live modestly and industriously by their own labor like the villeins and bourgeois, they cry out louder still than their husbands: "To arms! Death to the heretics!"

The Chamber of Sweet Vows dissolves amidst wild commotion. The larger number of the knights, from the Bailiff of the Joy of Joys to the Seneschal of Sweet-Marjoram, hasten home to prepare for their departure on the Crusade against Languedoc, where they are to exterminate the heretics of the south of France.

CHAPTER VI.

ON TO LANGUEDOC!

Happily thrown into the shade by the arrival of the eleven Crusaders from the Holy Land, Mylio and his companion profit by the address of Abbot Reynier to reach a stone stair that leads down to one of the ca.n.a.ls, and to conceal themselves under the arch of the bridge. From their place of concealment the two hear the words of the Abbot of Citeaux and the acclamations of his audience. As much surprised as alarmed at the projected war, seeing that his brother Karvel le Brenn is one of the pastors, or Perfects, of the heretics of Languedoc, the trouvere hastens to leave the garden without being seen, and skirting the banks of the ca.n.a.l he finally arrives at a secluded spot near the ramparts of Blois.

GOOSE-SKIN (who has followed his friend, and who observed profound silence during his hasty march, finally stops out of breath)--"Because you have the legs of a stag you feel not the least consideration for an honest man who is hampered in his walk by a big paunch that heaven has afflicted him with. Oh! Mylio, what a day this has been! It has made me boil over with rage! If water were not a sort of mortal poison to me, I would have rested on the edge of the garden. It is now night. What say you, shall we drop in at the tavern of my friend Gueulette and gather our spirits? Hey? Mylio? Do you not hear me? (strikes him on the shoulder) h.e.l.loa, my bold and brave trouvere! Are you dreaming with open eyes?"

MYLIO (awakes from his revery and reaches out his hand to the juggler)--"Adieu, I bid you good-bye!"

GOOSE-SKIN--"How! 'Good-bye!' You are going away? You leave a friend--what ingrat.i.tude!"

MYLIO (rummages in his purse)--"I shall share my purse with you. I have not forgotten the service that you have just rendered me."