the path of the king-第9节

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appeared　she　gave　the　order　〃Bring　supper　for　the　reverend　father；〃　at　which　the　Cluniac's　face　mellowed　into　complacence。

It　was　a　Friday　evening　in　a　hard　February。　Out…of…doors　the　snow　lay　deep　in　the　streets　of　Bruges；　and　every　canal　was　frozen　solid　so　that　carts　rumbled　along　them　as　on　a　street。　A　wind　had　risen　which　drifted　the　powdery　snow　and　blew　icy　draughts　through　every　chink。　The　small…paned　windows　of　the　great　upper…room　were　filled　with　oiled　vellum；　but　they　did　not　keep　out　the　weather；　and　currents　of　cold　air　passed　through　them　to　the　doorway；　making　the　smoke　of　the　four　charcoal　braziers　eddy　and　swirl。　The　place　was　warm；　yet　shot　with　bitter　gusts；　and　the　smell　of　burning　herbs　gave　it　the　heaviness　of　a　chapel　at　high　mass。　Hanging　silver　lamps；　which　blazed　blue　and　smoky；　lit　it　in　patches；　sufficient　to　show　the　cleanness　of　the　rush…strewn　floor；　the　glory　of　the　hangings　of　cloth…of…gold　and　damask；　and　the　burnished　sheen　of　the　metal…work。　There　was　no　costlier　chamber　in　that　rich　city。

It　was　a　strange　staging　for　death；　for　the　woman　on　the　high　bed　was　dying。　Slowly；　fighting　every　inch　of　the　way　with　a　grim　tenacity；　but　indubitably　dying。　Her　vital　ardour　had　sunk　below　the　mark　from　which　it　could　rise　again；　and　was　now　ebbing　as　water　runs　from　a　little　crack　in　a　pitcher。　The　best　leeches　in　all　Flanders　and　Artois　had　come　to　doctor　her。　They　had　prescribed　the　horrid　potions　of　the　age：　tinctures　of　earth…worms；　confections　of　spiders　and　wood…lice　and　viper's　flesh；　broth　of　human　skulls；　oil；　wine；　ants'　eggs；　and　crabs'　claws；　the　bufo　preparatus；　which　was　a　live　toad　roasted　in　a　pot　and　ground　to　a　powder；　and　innumerable　plaisters　and　electuaries。　She　had　begun　by　submitting　meekly；　for　she　longed　to　live；　and　had　ended；　for　she　was　a　shrewd　woman；　by　throwing　the　stuff　at　the　apothecaries'　heads。　Now　she　ordained　her　own　diet；　which　was　of　lamb's　flesh　lightly　boiled；　and　woman's　milk；　got　from　a　wench　in　the　purlieus　of　St。　Sauveur。　The　one　medicine　which　she　retained　was　powdered　elk's　horn；　which　had　been　taken　from　the　beast　between　two　festivals　of　the　Virgin。　This　she　had　from　the　foresters　in　the　Houthulst　woods；　and　swallowed　it　in　white　wine　an　hour　after　every　dawn。

The　bed　was　a　noble　thing　of　ebony；　brought　by　the　Rhine　road　from　Venice；　and　carved　with　fantastic　hunting　scenes　by　Hainault　craftsmen。　Its　hangings　were　stiff　brocaded　silver；　and　above　the　pillows　a　great　unicorn's　horn；　to　protect　against　poisoning；　stood　out　like　the　beak　of　a　ship。　The　horn　cast　an　odd　shadow　athwart　the　bed；　so　that　a　big　claw　seemed　to　lie　on　the　coverlet　curving　towards　the　throat　of　her　who　lay　there。　The　parish　priest　had　noticed　this　at　his　first　coming　that　evening；　and　had　muttered　fearful　prayers。

The　face　on　the　pillows　was　hard　to　discern　in　the　gloom；　but　when　Anton　laid　the　table　for　the　Cluniac's　meal　and　set　a　lamp　on　it；　he　lit　up　the　cavernous　interior　of　the　bed；　so　that　it　became　the　main　thing　in　the　chamber。　It　was　the　face　of　a　woman　who　still　retained　the　lines　and　the　colouring　of　youth。　The　voice　had　harshened　with　age；　and　the　hair　was　white　as　wool；　but　the　cheeks　were　still　rosy　and　the　grey　eyes　still　had　fire。　Notable　beauty　had　once　been　there。　The　finely　arched　brows；　the　oval　of　the　face　which　the　years　had　scarcely　sharpened；　the　proud；　delicate　nose；　all　spoke　of　it。　It　was　as　if　their　possessor　recognised　those　things　and　would　not　part　with　them；　for　her　attire　had　none　of　the　dishevelment　of　a　sickroom。　Her　coif　of　fine　silk　was　neatly　adjusted；　and　the　great　robe　of　marten's　fur　which　cloaked　her　shoulders　was　fastened　with　a　jewel　of　rubies　which　glowed　in　the　lamplight　like　a　star。

Something　chattered　beside　her。　It　was　a　little　brown　monkey　which　had　made　a　nest　in　the　warm　bedclothes。

She　watched　with　sharp　eyes　the　setting　of　the　table。　It　was　a　Friday's　meal　and　the　guest　was　a　monk；　so　it　followed　a　fashion；　but　in　that　house　of　wealth；　which　had　links　with　the　ends　of　the　earth；　the　monotony　was　cunningly　varied。　There　were　oysters　from　the　Boulogne　coast；　and　lampreys　from　the　Loire；　and　pickled　salmon　from　England。　There　was　a　dish　of　liver　dressed　with　rice　and　herbs　in　the　manner　of　the　Turk；　for　liver；　though　contained　in　flesh；　was　not　reckoned　as　flesh　by　liberal　churchmen。　There　was　a　roast　goose　from　the　shore　marshes；　that　barnacle　bird　which　pious　epicures　classed　as　shell…fish　and　thought　fit　for　fast　days。　A　silver　basket　held　a　store　of　thin　toasted　rye…cakes；　and　by　the　monk's　hand　stood　a　flagon　of　that　drink　most　dear　to　holy　palates；　the　rich　syrupy　hippocras。

The　woman　looked　on　the　table　with　approval；　for　her　house　had　always　prided　itself　upon　its　good　fare。　The　Cluniac's　urbane　composure　was　stirred　to　enthusiasm。　He　said　a　Confiteor　tibi　Domine；　rolling　the　words　on　his　tongue　as　if　in　anticipation　of　the　solider　mouthfuls　awaiting　him。　The　keen　weather　had　whetted　his　appetite　and　he　thanked　God　that　his　northern　peregrinations　had　brought　him　to　a　house　where　the　Church　was　thus　honoured。　He　had　liked　the　cavalier　treatment　of　the　lean　parish　priest；　a　sour　dog　who　brought　his　calling　into　disfavour　with　the　rich　and　godly。　He　tucked　back　his　sleeves；　adjusted　the　linen　napkin　comfortably　about　his　neck；　and　fell　to　with　a　will。　He　raised　his　first　glass　of　hippocras　and　gave　thanks　to　his　hostess。　A　true　mother　in　Israel！

She　was　looking　at　him　with　favour。　He　was　the　breed　of　monk　that　she　liked；　suave；　well…mannered；　observant　of　men　and　cities。　Already　he　had　told　her　entertaining　matter　about　the　French　King's　court；　and　the　new　Burgrave　of　Ghent；　and　the　escapades　of　Count　Baldwin。　He　had　lived　much　among　gentlefolk　and　kept　his　ears　open。。。。　She　felt　stronger　and　cheerfuller　than　she　had　been　for　days。　That　rat…hunt　had　warmed　her　blood。　She　was　a　long　way　from　death　in　spite　of　the　cackle　of　idiot　chirurgeons；　and　there　was　much　savour　still　in　the　world。　There　was　her　son；　too；　the　young　Philip。。。。　Her　eye　saw　clearer；　and　she　noted　the　sombre　magnificence　of　the　great　room；　the　glory　of　the　brocade；　the　gleam　of　silver。　Was　she　not　the　richest　woman　in　all　Bruges；　aye；　and　in　all　Hainault　and　Guelderland？　And　the　credit　was　her　own。　After　the　fashion　of　age　in　such　moods　her　mind　flew　backward；　and　she　saw　very　plain　a　narrow　street　in　a　wind…swept　town　looking　out　on　a　bleak　sea。　She　had　been　cold；　then；　and　hungry；　and　deathly　poor。　Well；　she　had　travelled　some　way　from　that　hovel。　She　watched　the　thick　carved　stems　of　the　candlesticks　and　felt　a　spacious　ease　and　power。

The　Cluniac　was　speaking。　He　had　supped　so　well　that　he　was　in　love　with　the　world。

〃Your　house　and　board；　my　lady；　are　queen…like。　I　have　seen　worse　in　palaces。〃

Her　laugh　was　only　half　pleased。　〃Too　fine；　you　would　add；　for　a　burgher　wife。　Maybe；　but　rank　is　but　as　man　makes　it。　The　Kings　of　England　are　sprung　of　a　tanner。　Hark　you；　father！　I　made　a　vow　to　God　when　I　was　a　maid；　and　I　have　fulfilled　my　side　of　the　bargain。　I　am　come　of　a　nobler　race　than　any　Markgrave；　aye；　than　the　Emperor　himself；　and　I　swore　to　set　the　seed　of　my　body；　which　the　Lord　might　grant　me；　again　among　the　great　ones。　Have　I　not　done　it？　Is　not　Philip；　my　son；　affianced　to　that　pale　girl　of　Avesnes；　and　with　more　acres　of　pleasant　land　to　his　name　than　any　knightlet　in　Artois？〃

The　Cluniac　bowed　a　courtly　head。　〃It　is　a　great　alliancebut　not　above　the　dignity　of　your　house。〃

〃House　you　call　it；　and　I　have　had　the　making　of　it。　What　was　Willebald　but　a　plain　merchant…man；　one　of　many　scores　at　the　Friday　Market？　Willebald　was　clay　that　I　moulded　and　gilded　till　God　put　him　to　bed　under　a　noble　lid　in　the　New　Kirk。　A　worthy　man；　but　loutish　and　slow　like　one　of　his　own　hookers。　Yet　when　I　saw　him　on　the　plainstones　by　the　English　harbour　I　knew　that　he　was　a　weapon　made　for　my　hand。〃

Her　voice　had　become　even　and　gentle　as　of　one　who　remembers　far…away　things。　The　Cluniac；　having　dipped　his　hands　in　a　silver　basin；　was　drying　them　in　the　brazier's　heat。　Presently　he　set　to　picking　his　teeth　daintily　with　a　quill；　and　fell　into　the　listener's　pose。　From　long　experience　he　knew　the　atmosphere　which　heralds　confidences；　and　was　willing　to　humour　the　provider　of　such　royal　fare。

〃You　have　never　journeyed　to　King's　Lynn？〃　said　the　voice　from　the　bed。　〃There　is　little　to　see　there　but　mudbars　and　fens　and　a　noisy　sea。　There　I　dwelt　when　I　was　fifteen　years　of　age；　a　maid　hungry　in　soul　and　body。　I　knew　I　was　of　the　seed　of　Forester　John　and　through　him　the　child　of　a　motley　of　ancient　kings；　but　war　and　famine　had　stripped　our　house　to　the　bone。　And　now　I；　the　last　of　the　stock；　dwelt　with　a　miserly　mother's　uncle　who　did　shipwright's　work　for　the　foreign　captains。　The　mirror　told　me　that　I　was　fair　to　look　on；　though　ill…nourished；　and　my　soul　assured　me　that　I　had　no　fear。　Therefore　I　had　hope；　but　I　ate　my　heart　out　waiting　on　fortune。〃

She　was　looking　at　the　monk　with　unseeing　eyes；　her　head　half　turned　towards　him。

〃Then　came　Willebald　one　March　morning。　I　saw　him　walk　up　the　jetty　in　a　new　red　cloak；　a　personable　man　with　a　broad　beard　and　a　jolly　laugh。　I　knew　him　by　repute　as　the　luckiest　of　the　Flemish