The Fall Of The Grand Sarrasin written by William J. Ferrar

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Up the cliff they clambered, and soon spied us in our fastness.

"Come out, ye spies," they shouted; "come out, cursed rats, or we will
come and slay you where you stand."

Our hearts panted to answer, but we said naught. Then they in a moment
changed their tone, and two approaching more civilly, spoke with us
almost at the entry of our fast place. Fair words they used, saying that
their captain had business of great import with certain stalwart seamen
of Jersey that day, and begged us for our own advantage to come down
aboard their ship.

"And who is your captain?" curiously asked Renouf.

The rogue dissembled not. "Our captain is Le Grand Geoffroy, Lord of
Guernsey, and his _aide-de-camp_, Mahmud le Terrible, is even now on
board of yonder craft."

"Then, hark you, Sarrasin dog!" said Simon. "Sooner will we three die on
this rock as good men and true to the law of God and man, than have
parley further in anywise with you and your men of blood."

Our civil visitors saw that fair words were of no avail to save
fighting, and so they ran back to their fellows, and with a few minutes'
chatter among themselves, half of them climbed up amid the rocks, to
drop on us, as we guessed from above, where they might find foothold
among the crevices, and the others with determined aspect ran up to us
in single line, taking the narrow ledge for their road to our
stronghold.

Then began the fray. It was no hard matter for Jacques de la Mare and me
at first to stay their attack, for the first comer and the next, struck
ere they strove to pass us, fell down helpless among the rocks below.
But the third, running in quickly, closed with Jacques, and forcing him
back, left room for another to close with me, and by this a shout above
our heads warned us that the rest would be upon us as it were from the
sky. I dimly saw Jacques locked arm to arm and breast to breast with a
villain, his equal in strength and stature; and then, as I had seen
wrestlers in peaceful times, so each now on that narrow spot, grasping
cutlasses the while, strove with all manner of feint and twist and turn
to throw his adversary. Close to the side they were, when I saw the
thickset pirate swing as easy as a child across Jacques' back. The two
clung together for a moment. Jacques struggled to get loose. But the
villain clung too well. And so they both fell together into the deep
well below. Creux de la Mort the islanders call it to this day.

I sought rather with sword play to strike the villain in my path, and
old Simon by my side saw soon his place to strike in, and gave him a
deadly stroke. But as he did so the first two rogues dropped from above,
and the little narrow ledge of rock, with its far outlook over the
waves, and pleasant vision of white surf running over the rocks, and
still gulls seated thereon, was soon like hell itself, full of dark and
evil faces. Now Simon was attacked at back and front, as he stumbled
back over the bodies; a great knife was thrust into his back, even as he
faced a rogue before his face, and I saw the old faithful soul fall
forward, and making a kind of stagger with his arms up, ere he fell,
drop into the pool below. So, according to his prayer, he died in the
sea, and nobly, as any knight of great fame, was true to death.

Now, what of myself. The villains would not kill me, though this they
could have done many times. Yet like a young lion I fought fiercely with
my back against the rock, and I know not how many I slashed and cut with
my weapon, till, with a swift stroke, one struck it out of my hand, and
I seemed at their mercy. But my great knife was in my hand in its place,
and with that I hastened another of these evil men to his last account.
And then two, rushing at me from either side, pinioned me as I stood
with a rope, and I, seeing no hope in struggling longer, like a naughty
child, let myself be led or carried to their boat, and so taken on board
the dark ship, whither they bore me.

And once on board they took little heed of me. Only they bound me more
securely with cords that cut my ankles, and threw me in a corner of
their craft amid some baggage. One that I judged to be Mahmud the
Terrible came and gazed on me with a dark smile, but said no word.

Now, after two hours or more, I heard a voice say from the tiller,
"Straight for St. Martin's Point!" and in a short time we came to anchor
in a certain harbour. I know not of a surety, for mine eyes were
blinded, but I guess it was Moulin Huet. And presently I was partly
unbound, set upon my feet, and made to walk. So, blindfolded and
miserable, I entered again that dear island, that I had left for
Normandy but two nights before.

CHAPTER X.

How I was brought before _Le Grand Sarrasin_, and of his magnificence.
How I saw _Folly_ in his chamber, and was lodged in a cavern under
earth.

It is long years ago since I was borne up the Castle Hill, the prisoner
of the Moors, but I stand not upon any high hill even to-day to look
down without remembering how I felt on that day, when the bandage was
torn from my eyes, and I looked round, dazzled at first by the daylight.
But there was that in me, in that I was young, and had all my boyhood
been taught true faith in Heaven, which even now rose up and persuaded
me that come what might a man could bear it, and that no evil man could
by any means force out of a true man's lips that which he would fain not
say.

Before me rose a bright pavilion of green and gold, and two great
sentries in rich raiment with pikes stood either side of the entrance,
letting none pass without a countersign.

Then as my captor drew me rudely onwards towards the entrance, I
guessed, as they stood speaking with the sentries ere we entered, that
this was the Pavilion of Le Grand Sarrasin.

We entered, and found ourselves in a rich antechamber, spread with
carpets of Turkey, whereon men in glossy cloaks trod to and fro in
converse or lay at ease. A fair curtain of blue silk was drawn across an
inner entrance, guarded by two negro lads in scarlet. Awhile we waited,
but at length a page came through the curtain, and with a low obeisance
to Mahmud called us to follow him, and we went into a second chamber,
wherein was no daylight, but only great lighted lamps of silver, that
swung melancholy in the gloom. As mine eyes used themselves to the dim
light, I saw it was indeed Geoffrey's presence chamber that I, poor
Nigel, stood in, with the great foe of our cloister seated before me.

Stout and thick-set as I saw him on his Arabian steed, he sat in his
golden chair, clad in black velvet, with buttons of glittering jewels. I
looked up through the dim light to see his face, but lo! I saw naught,
for a little veil of black gauze was stretched round from a small gold
cap upon his head. And I remembered how it was current talk that no man
had ever seen Le Grand Geoffroy's face in war or peace, and that a
terrible mystery lay beneath this veil of gauze, through which he gazed
on his men.

Upon my entrance, he stooped and spoke to one at his side, who it seemed
was to act as interpreter between us; and he coming forward bade Mahmud
speak, which he did in a strange tongue, pointing to me at times as
though recounting my efforts to resist at Jersey.

Upon his ceasing, the interpreter presently approached, and bade me tell
my name, and whither I went in that boat, and what my business. Now, I
was determined to answer nothing, lest ill be done to the good cause of
my friends, so I said not a word. Then at a word from the Sarrasin,
Mahmud said--

"Silence avails not, Nigel of Vale Abbey; we know thee and thy business,
and have power to know more!"

At this I forgot caution, and replied hotly--"My name thou knowest, and
it is not a name that a man need be ashamed of; more shalt thou fail to
learn, for all thy craft."

This I hurled madly at Le Grand Geoffroy on his throne, but he stirred
not.

"Thou wilt tell us," proceeded the black-bearded ruffian, "how many
there be shut up in Vale, what thou knowest of their treasuries, what
store of food they have, and the disposition of their sentinels at
nightfall."

My answer was a gaze of angry scorn.

The Grand Sarrasin bent down to the interpreter, and when he had spoken,
he came forward like a herald, and spake thus--

"Thy lord, and the lord of these isles, would have thee know that he
loves thy courage, Nigel de Bessin, but fears for thy folly in this
matter. He would have thee answer to all questions asked thee, and so
in good season enter his service as a brave man."

I smiled defiance at the cunning monster. "Yea! yea!" I said, "thou
wouldst have me add to my other woes the woe of treachery! Geoffroy, if
that be thy name, know thou my friends' matters are safe in my own
keeping."

Again the Sarrasin bent and conversed with Mahmud, and the little bag
they had robbed from my neck was taken to him, the which he opened, and
curiously handled the ring that lay therein, with its motto, "_Loyal
devoir_," and the letter "A."

Presently the interpreter again came forth, and bade them in his lord's
name remove me to safe keeping, as other matters were at hand to occupy
him. Then, with all due state, we passed out of the chamber on one side,
and I was, by a straight passage, led downward to those very caverns
under earth which the pirates had dug for their treasuries. Now, as we
passed out, I saw others in a throng enter the Sarrasin's presence
chamber, but I could scarce see them clearly, and beside this throng of
visitors leapt, I thought, that very impish ugly devil, the ape that men
called the familiar of the Lord of Rouen, that he named Folly, the which
I had set eyes on at the house at Blanchelande. Yea, it ran chattering
with many a mow and grimace, and though I saw not those that entered, I
was well assured that my Lord of Rouen had free entry to Le Grand
Sarrasin, full lot in his friendship and unholy fortunes; nay, as it
struck me at once, was working through this Moorish devil evil to our
abbot, whom he now hated, and danger to a greater than he. Now, these
thoughts ran through my mind when I saw Folly, the archbishop's ape, so
lively in the Sarrasin's presence chamber, and I exceedingly dreaded
this evil union of evil men, yet remembered I my "_Quare fremuerunt_,"
and had good faith that One more powerful than man would save me and my
good friends the Brethren from false Maugher and cruel Geoffroy.

To a sad dungeon beneath the ground was I led, exceeding dark, for the
only light entered through a narrow slit in the rocky roof; and I saw
that the walls and roof were rugged and rough, half cavern and half
cell. Alas! alas! sad moment indeed it was when I was thrust therein,
with my arms bound to my back and my wounds still undrest, my body stiff
and full of pain, and my head dizzy and heavy after so great excitement.
Helplessly enough I crawled around the rocky walls, and found a barrier
that seemed framed of wood across the entry. I felt, and found that it
hung like a great gate on a bar of iron that ran through holes cut in
the solid rock. I looked in despair up to the narrow slip above. In
agony of spirit I even for a short space threw myself as I might against
the door, against the rock.

At length I knew it was hopeless, and I crawled to a heap of plundered
goods, and lay on them passive for a season. Perchance I slept, and at
least a little space forgot my troubles, but not heavily, for a very
gentle moving of the door appalled me, and in a moment I was half on my
feet. There was no need for such alarm, for he that entered came softly
in and whispered that he was a friend. A moment I thought here was a
wile of my foes to catch me, but I looked long and sternly at my
visitor, and decided he had not come to work deceit. A man he was of
noble and knightly aspect, easy in his bearing, frank in his gaze,
exceeding handsome, so far as by the dim light I could judge. He came
close and stood by me, and spoke softly.

"Hush, lad," he said, "fear me not, for I come hither as a friend! And
if thou art to be saved from torture and death, thou must trust me as
the saint trusts his God. Wilt thou do this?"

I murmured beneath my breath that I did not doubt him, and bade him for
the sake of God not to delay.

"Thou dost not know me, Nigel de Bessin," he said, "but I know thee
already, and with many another stood this day in yonder antechamber and
heard thy words to Geoffroy. Now, those words I loved to hear, and I
have been in a struggle since I heard thee, the one part of me saying,
'Save this lad,' and the other part counselling me to let thee die. But
I am here to save thee."

"Yea! yea!" I broke in; "but how may it be done?"

"Trust me," he said, "and in an hour's space, for it is even now
evening, the chateau will be at rest, and our sentinels are slack of
watch. Meanwhile, refresh thyself, and prepare even now for what may be
thy hardest battle." He laid before me some eatables and a little flask
of wine, and with a slash of his poniard cut the cord from my arms,
which for long hung cramped and aching, so tight had they been bound.

With that he vanished out of the cell, and hope again sprang up in my
heart, and I thanked Heaven for sending me such aid in my woes, even
here in the womb of the earth.

CHAPTER XI.

By what means I was delivered from _Le Grand Sarrasin_, and how I found
shelter with the priest of _St. Apolline's_.

The cell had been dark before. Now it was black as night, and having
eaten my friend's goodly parcel of food, I was refreshed, and eagerly
awaited his return. Presently he was with me, and softly rolling the
great door on its hinge, let me swiftly through into the long earthy
passage that led upward. We traversed many yards, and I know not what
treasures I saw heaped hastily on this side or on that, and I saw at the
end, where the path passed forth, the form of the sentinel at his post.
Now all our hope lay in what that moment chanced. He lolled easily
against the rock, gazing forth, as I thought dreamily, into the open. My
companion drew me along on tiptoe till we were even a pace behind him.
We were so close that I think I heard him breathe. Then rapidly the man
felt a scarf round his mouth and wiry fingers at his throat, so that he
could make no sound.

"Strike, Nigel!" said my comrade. "There is little time for mercy!"

So I drew my companion's dagger from his waist and used it swiftly,
though it went sore against my nature thus to strike a sentinel at his
post by surprise.

He fell heavily backward. I drew forth the dagger, and we ran swiftly
for the cover of the side of a building. Along the wall we crept warily
and without sound, and the next moment I saw my deliverer swing himself
upon a bough that hung within his reach. In his train I followed, as he
caught wondrous craftily in the darkness now at this branch, now at
that, and more than once passed like an ape or squirrel of the woodland
from tree to tree. At last I looked down and saw the wall loom from
below, and the branch whereon I clung spread across the wall into the
open. There we dropped down right nimbly as I remember a full ten feet,
and the branch swung back from our hands noiselessly, and without sound
we passed swiftly on hands and knees for a space under the near shelter
of the forest brushwood.

Nothing was said till we were a round two hundred yards within, and then
my friend pointed to a little path, for the moon was risen.

"Yonder, dear lad," he said, "lies thy way to the Vale, and I must now
be for a space a dead man in the woods, outcast even of the pirates."

"Nay, friend," said I, "I go not back to the Vale till I come with force
to release them from their woes."

"What!" said he. "Thou still art minded to journey to Normandy? Oh,
dear and knightly lad!"

"Yea," I said, "thither must lie my road, and I pray thee to help me on
my way, for indeed I fear to fall into Geoffrey's jaws again; and now
three days are lost that should have brought me nearer to William."

"If it be indeed thy will," he said, "and indeed thou couldst not will
better, since, as the case is, yonder castle could not many weeks
withstand the Sarrasin, thou must come with me, and on the road to my
good friend, to whom I journey for safety, I will ponder over this
matter, and concert a scheme, whereby the wish of thy heart may be
carried out. Meanwhile, trust me, good child, as so far thou hast nobly
done."

"One thing, good friend," I said, as we swung along southward, "what is
thy name, that I may know whom I may thank for this wonderful
deliverance."

My comrade laughed strangely at my words, and answered hastily--

"For names, lad, we are not over-ready with them in the chateau yonder.
Ofttimes their sound, compared with their ring in other days, bringeth
more pain than joy. You may call me, if thou wilt, Des Bois, for indeed
I love the woodland. And for thanks, lad, thank me with a kind word and
trustful look, and a good stroke of the sword, if that be needful ever
for mine honour."

So we strode on, and as the moonlight made silvery passages amid the
trees, I watched him as he knitted his brows in thought, whether on my
account or his own I knew not. I thought I saw in him all that I dreamed
of knightly spirit, and I guessed that in Des Bois lay hidden one like
Brother Hugo, who for some reason masked a great and noble name in this
poor, paltry disguise. Ay, but it was a visage that not long rested
serious. A smile broke over its furrows, making it like a field that
smiled in the sunlight, and he said right gaily in my ear--

"Ay, good lad, we will weave thee a rope to Normandy both strong and
subtle, and witty withal, and thou shalt hear its texture when we arrive
yonder; but as the night wears on, we must ride faster, or trot
ourselves, since steed are lacking, so let us not lose time."

With that indeed he broke into a nimble run, and I followed. And ere
half a mile was passed, we were out of the forest and by the shore of
the sea, hard by Cobo Bay, and keeping still close to cover, lest danger
should arise--for the pirates had their sentinels in huts in every small
harbour of the isle--we ere long were by La Perelle Bay, and I could see
on Lihou the dim outline of the monastery.

Soon Des Bois turned sharply to the left, and we were soon in a trim
wood that ran up almost from the shore. The blind, thick wall of a small
building lay in our path, and by its side a little low-roofed hut of
daub and wattle.

"The chapel of good St. Apolline!" I said in surprise, for I knew well
that little shrine by the coast, where the fisher-people made
supplication for good weather and success in their craft, and hung up
their poor offerings for the holy saint's honour.

"Ay, that it is," said Des Bois. "Now will we find its guardian at his
vigils."

He oped with ease the latch of the lowly door of the hut, and we found,
indeed, no saint at matins or prime, but only the priest of St.
Apolline, curled on his wood settle in honest slumber, and snoring
lustily withal.

Des Bois gazed at him with a merry smile, and presently tweaked him
merrily by the ear, crying out--

"Up, good hog! up, griskin-knave! up, lubber! and provide meet
entertainment for honest men."

"Ralf! Ralf!" sang out the priest in alarm, as he leapt from his poor
couch. "What make you here at this hour of night?"

"Often hast thou," answered Des Bois, "with sage reproof bid me turn to
an honest and a sober life, and now I have turned to the side of the
holy saints. Lo! I have cut my ropes this night, and am free again.
Free, that is to say, if thou wilt hide me for a season, and do thy good
offices for Nigel here, who indeed hath saved me, as I him."

The good priest grasped his hand, and I thought he wept, as though Des
Bois' words conveyed more than I could understand. The two men drew
aside together and whispered seriously for a time.

But I was glad, before they ceased, to wash away the blood from my
wounds, and all the dust and sweat of my capture and escape. And after
much washing in the brook, I felt well-nigh a new man; and sitting down
at the priest's rough board, we next refreshed ourselves with such store
as the good man had. And after we had eaten, Des Bois, whose name I now
knew was Ralf, began to explain the plan by means of which I was still
to journey safely to Normandy.

"Hark you, good Nigel," said Ralf. "I have discovered a rare likeness
betwixt you and our Father, this dear Augustine. Indeed, saving for the
marks of time, ye might be brothers of one birth. Now, it likes me not
to cast away prodigally such rare aid given by Mother Nature to our
designs. So, look you, you shall journey to Normandy as Father
Augustine, priest of St. Apolline's in Guernsey, while Father Augustine
and I, dear yoke-fellows of old, shall betake ourselves, as once or
twice before, to the nether-world for a season."

Father Augustine smiled his assent to the scheme, as I asked hastily--

"But, even so, how will the knaves yonder let me pass?"

Ralf smiled as he replied, "Ay, they will not molest thee. Augustine
hath a gift of walking warily, so that all men count him their friend,
and, earnest man, he hath full oft his own good designs, that carry him
to and fro across the seas. Thou hast but to stride with his smart step
boldly by yon chateau gate, and so to Pierre Port, and none will forbid
thy passage on any vessel that thou pleasest, if thou but give good word
to all thou meetest, Moor and islander alike, good man and good dame.
Pat, too, the little innocents on the head with a paternal blessing.
Answer not save in words of hearty jest. Keep a front unconcerned and
free, though thy heart rap hard against thy chest-bones, and, in good
faith, within a sennight or twain thou wilt be back in the isle, with
Duke William at thy tail."

"And it is well for thee, good lad," said Augustine, "that thou art
better suited than this rogue to figure harmlessly as a priest that men
trust. But surely it will aid thee much in carrying through this scheme
that thou wast bred amid monks, and churchmen, and art used to their
ways of act and speech. Yea, lad, with a bold step and an easy manner
thou wilt be safer beneath my cloak in the open than if by secret paths
thou essayedst never so warily to cheat the Sarrasin's sentinels."

What could I do but thank them, and yield myself with all despatch into
their hands, to be turned by means of razor and paint, of cunning dye,
still nearer like the priest of St. Apolline? In the end, as I drew the
good father's cowl around my pate, and essayed to imitate his careless
stride and easy gait, they both swore that the good saint himself, were
he to escape from the skies and visit his earthly shrine, would be hard
put to it to know which was his own priest and which the counterfeit.

But ere this the sun was up, and there were sounds of fishermen already
moving in the bay below. We knew that by this time our escape must be
discovered, and so with hurried counsel my friends betook themselves
away--at least, they were with me at one moment, and then of a sudden,
like dreams, were lost to my sight. And I, as it were to try the
strength of my disguise, went down for a short space among the huts of
the fisher-people.

There goodman and goodwife alike gave me friendly greeting, and I
cheerily told them they must spare me for one sennight, if that might
be; whereupon the children, running up, stayed further question, and in
a moment I, in my long, sober cloak, was a war-horse, or a crazy bull at
the least, that went ramping among their blue-eyed chivalry, carrying
little affright, but rather earning peals of merry laughter.

CHAPTER XII.

Of my second setting forth for _Normandy_, and in what guise I took
passage.

I next prepared to start on my journey to St. Pierre Port; and, before I
went, I tarried for awhile in the rude chapel of St Apolline, to say a
prayer for myself and those good men whom it was in my heart to succour.
But, my prayers ended, I must fare forth. And lo! even as I turned to
leave the chapel, I heard the sound of hasty steps and voices, and
already three of the pirates were in the yard, singing out--

"Come forth, master priest, and help us find our quarry!"

How my heart rapped as I made myself seen of them at the gate, and, with
a gay face, fetched out a merry inquiry--

"What seek you, early birds, so soon afield?"

Never face and attitude surely so belied the man within; for, indeed, I
doubted if my legs would bear me, and my poor heart, as I spoke, went
rap, rap!

"Now, hast thou seen two runaways by thy gate this morning, master
priest--one a stalwart, dangerous fellow, the other a measly, monkish
lad? And, prithee, see thou speak the truth."

I assured them lightly none had passed save the fishers to their boats,
and they seemed satisfied, till one, looking more keenly than the rest,
came near to me, and, with a suspicious gesture, cried out--

"And thou hast not got them hidden up thy wide sleeve, good priestling?
Come, we will search with a good will thy parsonage."

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