Chivalry | Page 7

de Giars' throat I slipped away in the
dark and tumbled through many ditches till I spied your light. There
you have my story. Now get me an escort to Bristol."
It was a long while before Messire Heleigh spoke. Then, "These men,"
he said--"this de Giars and this Fitz-Herveis--they gave their lives for
yours, as I understand it,--pro caris amicis. And yet you do not grieve
for them."
"I shall regret de Giars," the Queen acknowledged, "for he made
excellent songs. But Fitz-Herveis?--foh! the man had a face like a
horse." Again her mood changed. "Many persons have died for me, my
friend. At first I wept for them, but now I am dry of tears."
He shook his head. "Cato very wisely says, 'If thou hast need of help,
ask it of thy friends.' But the sweet friend that I remember was a clean
eyed girl, joyous and exceedingly beautiful. Now you appear to me one
of those ladies of remoter times--Faustina, or Jael, or Artemis, the
King's wife of Tauris,--they that slew men, laughing. I am somewhat
afraid of you, madame."
She was angry at first; then her face softened. "You English!" she said,
only half mirthful. "Eh, my God! you remember me when I was a high
hearted young sorceress. Now the powers of the Apsarasas have
departed from me, and time has thrust that Alianora, who was once the
Unattainable Princess, chin deep in misery. Yet even now I am your
Queen, messire, and it is not yours to pass judgment upon me." "I do
not judge you," he returned. "Rather I cry with him of old, _Omnia
incerta ratione!_ and I cry with Salomon that he who meddles with the
strife of another man is like to him that takes a hound by the ears. Yet
listen, madame and Queen. I cannot afford you an escort to Bristol.
This house, of which I am in temporary charge, is Longaville, my
brother's manor. Lord Brudenel, as you doubtless know, is of the
barons' party and--scant cause for grief!--is with Leicester at this
moment. I can trust none of my brother's people, for I believe them to
be of much the same opinion as those Londoners who not long ago

stoned you and would have sunk your barge in Thames River. Oh, let
us not blink the fact that you are not overbeloved in England. So an
escort is out of the question. Yet I, madame, if you so elect, will see
you safe to Bristol."
"You? Singly?" the Queen demanded.
"My plan is this: Singing folk alone travel whither they will. We will
go as jongleurs, then. I can yet manage a song to the viol, I dare affirm.
And you must pass as my wife."
He said this with simplicity. The plan seemed unreasonable, and at first
Dame Alianora waved it aside. Out of the question! But reflection
suggested nothing better; it was impossible to remain at Longaville,
and the man spoke sober truth when he declared any escort other than
himself to be unprocurable. Besides, the lunar madness of the scheme
was its strength; that the Queen would venture to cross half England
unprotected--and Messire Heleigh on the face of him was a paste-board
buckler--was an event which Leicester would neither anticipate nor on
report credit. There you were! these English had no imagination. The
Queen snapped her fingers and said: "Very willingly will I be your wife,
my Osmund. But how do I know that I can trust you? Leicester would
give a deal for me; he would pay any price for the pious joy of burning
the Sorceress of Provence. And you are not wealthy, I suspect."
"You may trust me, mon bel esper,"--his eyes here were those of a
beaten child--"because my memory is better than yours." Messire
Osmund Heleigh gathered his papers into a neat pile. "This room is
mine. To-night I keep guard in the corridor, madame. We will start at
dawn."
When he had gone, Dame Alianora laughed contentedly. "Mon bel
esper! my fairest hope! The man called me that in his verses--thirty
years ago! Yes, I may trust you, my poor Osmund."
So they set out at cockcrow. He had procured for himself a viol and a
long falchion, and had somewhere got suitable clothes for the Queen;
and in their aging but decent garb the two approached near enough to

the appearance of what they desired to be thought. In the courtyard a
knot of servants gaped, nudged one another, but openly said nothing.
Messire Heleigh, as they interpreted it, was brazening out an affair of
gallantry before the countryside; and they esteemed his casual
observation that they would find a couple of dead men on the common
exceedingly diverting.
When the Queen asked him the same