the path of the king-第16节

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o　Beaumanoir；　where　the　Lady　Alix　kissed　it　with　proud　　tears。　The　arm　in　a　rich　casket　she　buried　below　the　chapel　altar；　and　the　　ring　she　wore　till　her　death。　



CHAPTER　5。　THE　MAID

The　hostel　of　the　Ane　Raye　poured　from　its　upper　and　lower　windows　a　flood　of　light　into　the　gathering　August　dusk。　It　stood；　a　little　withdrawn　among　its　beeches；　at　a　cross…roads；　where　the　main　route　southward　from　the　Valois　cut　the　highway　from　Paris　to　Rheims　and　Champagne。　The　roads　at　that　hour　made　ghostly　white　ribbons；　and　the　fore…court　of　dusty　grasses　seemed　of　a　verdure　which　daylight　would　disprove。　Weary　horses　nuzzled　at　a　watertrough；　and　serving…men　in　a　dozen　liveries　made　a　bustle　around　the　stables；　which　formed　two　sides　of　the　open　quadrangle。　At　the　foot　of　the　inn　signpost　beggars　squattedhere　a　leper　whining　monotonously；　there　lustier　vagrants　dicing　for　supper。　At　the　main　door　a　knot　of　young　squires　stood　talking　in　whispersimpatient；　if　one　judged　from　the　restless　clank　of　metal；　but　on　duty；　as　appeared　when　a　new…comer　sought　entrance　and　was　brusquely　denied。　For　in　an　upper　room　there　was　business　of　great　folk；　and　the　commonalty　must　keep　its　distance。

That　upper　room　was　long　and　low…ceiled；　with　a　canopied　bed　in　a　corner　and　an　oaken　table　heaped　with　saddle…bags。　A　woman　sat　in　a　chair　by　the　empty　hearth；　very　bright　and　clear　in　the　glow　of　the　big　iron　lantern　hung　above　the　chimney。　She　was　a　tall　girl；　exquisitely　dressed；　from　the　fine　silk　of　her　horned　cap　to　the　amethyst　buckles　on　her　Spanish　shoes。　The　saddle…bags　showed　that　she　was　fresh　from　a　journey；　but　her　tirewoman's　hands　must　have　been　busy；　for　she　bore　no　marks　of　the　road。

Her　chin　was　in　her　hands；　and　the　face　defined　by　the　slim　fingers　was　small　and　delicate；　pale　with　the　clear　pallor　of　perfect　health；　and　now　slowly　flushing　to　some　emotion。　The　little　chin　was　firm；　but　the　mouth　was　pettish。　Her　teeth　bit　on　a　gold　chain；　which　encircled　her　neck　and　held　a　crystal　reliquary。　A　spoiled　pretty　child；　she　looked；　and　in　a　mighty　ill　temper。

The　cause　of　it　was　a　young　man　who　stood　disconsolately　by　a　settle　a　little　way　out　of　the　lantern's　glow。　The　dust　of　the　white　roads　lay　on　his　bodyarmour　and　coated　the　scabbard　of　his　great　sword。　He　played　nervously　with　the　plume　of　a　helmet　which　lay　on　the　settle；　and　lifted　his　face　now　and　then　to　protest　a　word。　It　was　an　honest　face；　ruddy　with　wind　and　sun　and　thatched　with　hair　which　his　mislikers　called　red　but　his　friends　golden。

The　girl　seemed　to　have　had　her　say。　She　turned　wearily　aside；　and　drew　the　chain　between　her　young　lips　with　a　gesture　of　despair。

〃Since　when　have　you　become　Burgundian；　Catherine？〃　the　young　man　asked　timidly。　The　Sieur　Guy　de　Laval　was　most　notable　in　the　field　but　he　had　few　arts　for　a　lady's　chamber。

〃I　am　no　Burgundian；〃　she　said；　〃but　neither　am　I　Armagnac。　What　concern　have　we　in　these　quarrels？　Let　the　Kings　who　seek　thrones　do　the　fighting。　What　matters　it　to　us　whether　knock…kneed　Charles　or　fat　Philip　reign　in　Paris？〃

The　young　man　shuddered　as　if　at　a　blasphemy　〃This　is　our　country　of　France。　I　would　rid　it　of　the　English　and　all　foreign　bloodsuckers　〃

〃And　your　way　is　to　foment　the　quarrel　among　Frenchmen？　You　are　a　fool；　Guy。　Make　peace　with　Burgundy　and　in　a　month　there　will　be　no　Goddams　left　in　France。〃

〃It　is　the　voice　of　La　Tremouille。〃

〃It　is　the　voice　of　myself；　Catherine　of　Beaumanoir。　And　if　my　kinsman　of　La　Tremouille　say　the　same；　the　opinion　is　none　the　worse　for　that。　You　meddle　with　matters　beyond　your　understanding。。。。　But　have　done　with　statecraft；　for　that　is　not　the　heart　of　my　complaint。　You　have　broken　your　pledged　word；　sir。　Did　you　not　promise　me　when　you　set　out　that　you　would　abide　the　issue　of　the　Bourbon's　battle　before　you　took　arms？　Yet　I　have　heard　of　you　swashbuckling　in　that　very　fight　at　Rouvray；　and　only　the　miracle　of　God　brought　you　out　with　an　unbroken　neck。〃

〃The　Bourbon　never　fought；〃　said　de　Laval　sullenly。　〃Only　Stewart　and　his　Scots　stood　up　against　Fastolf's　spears。　You　would　not　have　me　stay　idle　in　face　of　such　odds。　I　was　not　the　only　French　knight　who　charged。　There　was　La　Hire　and　de　Saintrailles　and　the　Bastard　himself。〃

〃Yet　you　broke　your　word；〃　was　the　girl's　cold　answer。　〃Your　word　to　me。　You　are　forsworn；　sir。〃

The　boy's　face　flushed　deeply。　〃You　do　not　understand；　my　sweet　Catherine。　There　have　been　mighty　doings　in　Touraine；　which　you　have　not　heard　of　in　Picardy。　Miracles　have　come　to　pass。　Orleans　has　been　saved；　and　there　is　now　a　great　army　behind　Charles。　In　a　little　while　we　shall　drive　the　English　from　Paris；　and　presently　into　the　sea。　There　is　hope　now　and　a　clear　road　for　us　Frenchmen。　We　have　heard　the　terrible　English　'Hurra'　grow　feeble；　and　'St。　Denis'　swell　like　a　wind　in　heaven。　For　God　has　sent　us　the　Maid。。。。〃

The　girl　had　risen　and　was　walking　with　quick；　short　steps　from　hearth　to　open　window。

〃Tell　me　of　this　maid；〃　she　commanded。

〃Beyond　doubt　she　is　a　daughter　of　God；〃　said　de　Laval。

〃Beyond　doubt。　But　I　would　hear　more　of　her。〃

Her　tone　was　ominously　soft；　and　the　young　man　was　deceived　by　it。　He　launched　into　a　fervid　panegyric　of　Jeanne　of　Arc。　He　told　of　her　doings　at　Orleans；　when　her　standard　became　the　oriflamme　of　France；　and　her　voice　was　more　stirring　than　trumpets；　of　her　gentleness　and　her　wisdom。　He　told　of　his　first　meeting　with　her；　when　she　welcomed　him　in　her　chamber。　〃She　sent　for　wine　and　said　that　soon　she　would　drink　it　with　me　in　Paris。　I　saw　her　mount　a　plunging　black　horse；　herself　all　in　white　armour；　but　unhelmeted。　Her　eyes　were　those　of　a　great　captain；　and　yet　merciful　and　mild　like　God's　Mother。　The　sight　of　her　made　the　heart　sing　like　a　May　morning。　No　man　could　fear　death　in　her　company。　They　tell　how　。　。　。〃

But　he　got　no　farther。　The　girl's　face　was　pale　with　fury；　and　she　tore　at　her　gold　neck…chain　till　it　snapped。

〃Enough　of　your　maid！〃　she　cried。　〃Maid；　forsooth！　The　shame　of　her　has　gone　throughout　the　land。　She　is　no　maid；　but　a　witch；　a　light…of…love；　a　blasphemer。　By　the　Rood；　Sir　Guy；　you　choose　this　instant　between　me　and　your　foul　peasant。　A　daughter　of　Beaumanoir　does　not　share　her　lover　with　a　crack…brained　virago。〃

The　young　man　had　also　gone　pale　beneath　his　sunburn。　〃I　will　not　listen；〃　he　cried。　〃You　blaspheme　a　holy　angel。〃

〃But　listen　you　shall；〃　and　her　voice　quivered　with　passion。　She　marched　up　to　him　and　faced　him；　her　slim　figure　as　stiff　as　a　spear。　〃This　very　hour　you　break　this　mad　allegiance　and　conduct　me　home　to　Beaumanoir。　Or；　by　the　Sorrows　of　Mary；　you　and　I　will　never　meet　again。〃

De　Laval　did　not　speak；　but　stood　gazing　sadly　at　the　angry　loveliness　before　him。　His　own　face　had　grown　as　stubborn　as　hers。

〃You　do　not　know　what　you　ask；〃　he　said　at　length。　〃You　would　have　me　forswear　my　God；　and　my　King；　and　my　manhood。〃

〃A　fig　for　such　manhood；〃　she　cried　with　ringing　scorn。　〃If　that　is　a　man's　devotion；　I　will　end　my　days　in　a　nunnery。　I　will　have　none　of　it；　I　tell　you。　Choose；　my　fine　lover　choose　between　me　and　your　peasant。〃

The　young　man　looked　again　at　the　blazing　eyes　and　then　without　a　word　turned　slowly　and　left　the　room。　A　moment　later　the　sound　of　horses　told　that　a　company　had　taken　the　road

The　girl　stood　listening　till　the　noise　died　away。　Then　she　sank　all　limp　in　a　chair　and　began　to　cry。　There　was　wrath　in　her　sobs；　and　bitter　self…pity。　She　had　made　a　fine　tragedy　scene；　but　the　glory　of　it　was　short。　She　did　not　regret　it；　but　an　immense　dreariness　had　followed　on　her　heroics。　Was　there　ever；　she　asked　herself；　a　more　unfortunate　lady？

And　she　had　been　so　happy。　Her　lover　was　the　bravest　gallant　that　ever　came　out　of　Brittany；　rich　too；　and　well　beloved；　and　kin　to　de　Richemont；　the　Constable。　In　the　happy　days　at　Beaumanoir　he　was　the　leader　in　jousts　and　valiances；　the　soul　of　hunting　parties；　the　lightest　foot　in　the　dance。　The　Beaumanoirs　had　been　a　sleepy　stock；　ever　since　that　Sir　Aimery；　long　ago；　who　had　gone　crusading　with　Saint　Louis　and　ridden　out　of　the　ken　of　mortals。　Their　wealth　had　bought　them　peace；　and　they　had　kept　on　good　terms　alike　with　France　and　Burgundy；　and　even　with　the　unruly　captains　of　England。　Wars　might　sweep　round　their　marches；　but　their　fields　were　unravaged。　Shrewd；　peaceable　folk　they　were；　at　least　the　males　of　the　house。　The　women　had　been　different；　for　the　daughters　of　Beaumanoir　had　been　notable　for　beauty　and　wit　and　had　married　proudly；　till　the　family　was　kin　to　half　the　nobleness　of　Artois　and　Picardy　and　Champagne。　There　was　that　terrible　great…aunt　at　Coucy；　and　the　aunts　at　Beaulieu　and　Avranches；　and　the　endless　cousinhood　stretching　as　far　south　as　the　Nivernais。。。。　And　now　the　main　stock　had　flowered　in　her；　the　sole　child　of　her　father；　and　the　best　match　to　be　found　that　side　of　the　Loire。

She　sobbed　in　the　chagrin　of　a　new　experience。　No　one　in　her　soft　cushioned　life　had　ever　dared　to　gainsay　her。　At　Beaumanoir　her　word　was　law。　She　had　loved　its　rich　idleness　for　the　power　it　gave　her。　Luxurious　as　she　was；　it　was　no　passive　luxury　that　she　craved；　but　the　sense　of　mastery；　of　being　a　rare　thing　set　apart。　The　spirit　of　the　wo