惊婚记 英文版 Quentin Durward
瓦尔特.司各特 Sir Walter Scott
CHAPTER VI: THE BOHEMIANS Page 2
The singular assemblage, both male and female, wore turbans andcaps, more similar in general appearance to his own bonnet thanto the hats commonly worn in France. Several of the men had curledblack beards, and the complexion of all was nearly as dark as thatof Africans. One or two who seemed their chiefs, had some tawdryornaments of silver about their necks and in their ears, and woreshowy scarfs of yellow, or scarlet, or light green; but their legsand arms were bare, and the whole troop seemed wretched and squalidin appearance. There were no weapons among them that Durward saw,except the long knives with which they had lately menaced him, andone short, crooked sabre, or Moorish sword, which was worn by anactive looking young man, who often laid his hand upon the hill, whilehe surpassed the rest of the party in his extravagant expressionsof grief, and seemed to mingle with them threats of vengeance.
The disordered and yelling group were so different in appearancefrom any beings whom Quentin had yet seen, that he was on the pointof concluding them to be a party of Saracens, of those "heathenhounds," who were the opponents of gentle knights and Christianmonarchs in all the romances which he had heard or read, and wasabout to withdraw himself from a neighbourhood so perilous, whena galloping of horse was heard, and the supposed Saracens, who hadraised by this time the body of their comrade upon their shoulders,were at once charged by a party of French soldiers.
This sudden apparition changed the measured wailing of the mournersinto irregular shrieks of terror. The body was thrown to the groundin an instant, and those who were around it showed the utmost andmost dexterous activity in escaping under the bellies as it wereof the horses, from the point of the lances which were levelled atthem, with exclamations of "Down with the accursed heathen thieves-- take and kill -- bind them like beasts -- spear them like wolves!"
These cries were accompanied with corresponding acts of violence;but such was the alertness of the fugitives, the ground beingrendered unfavourable to the horsemen by thickets and bushes,that only two were struck down and made prisoners, one of whom wasthe young fellow with the sword, who had previously offered someresistance. Quentin, whom fortune seemed at this period to havechosen for the butt of her shafts, was at the same time seized bythe soldiers, and his arms, in spite of his remonstrances, bounddown with a cord; those who apprehended him showing a readinessand dispatch in the operation, which proved them to be no novicesin matters of police.
Looking anxiously to the leader of the horsemen, from whom he hopedto obtain liberty, Quentin knew not exactly whether to be pleasedor alarmed upon recognising in him the down looking and silentcompanion of Maitre Pierre. True, whatever crime these strangersmight be accused of, this officer might know, from the history ofthe morning, that he, Durward, had no connection with them whatever;but it was a more difficult question, whether this sullen man wouldbe either a favourable judge or a willing witness in his behalf,and he felt doubtful whether he would mend his condition by makingany direct application to him.
But there was little leisure for hesitation. "Trois Eschelles andPetit Andre," said the down looking officer to two of his band,"These same trees stand here quite convenient. I will teach thesemisbelieving, thieving sorcerers to interfere with the King'sjustice, when it has visited any of their accursed race. Dismount,my children, and do your office briskly."
Trois Eschelles and Petit Andre were in an instant on foot, andQuentin observed that they had each, at the crupper and pommel ofhis saddle, a coil or two of ropes, which they hastily undid, andshowed that, in fact, each coil formed a halter, with the fatalnoose adjusted, ready for execution. The blood ran cold in Quentin'sveins, when he saw three cords selected, and perceived that it wasproposed to put one around his own neck. He called on the officerloudly, reminded him of their meeting that morning, claimed theright of a free born Scotsman in a friendly and allied country, anddenied any knowledge of the persons along with whom he was seized,or of their misdeed.
The officer whom Durward thus addressed, scarce deigned to lookat him while he was speaking, and took no notice whatever of theclaim he preferred to prior acquaintance. He barely turned to oneor two of the peasants who were now come forward, either to volunteertheir evidence against the prisoners, or out of curiosity, and saidgruffly, "Was yonder young fellow with the vagabonds?"
"That he was, sir, and it please your noble Provostship," answeredone of the clowns; "he was the very first blasphemously to cut downthe rascal whom his Majesty's justice most deservedly hung up, aswe told your worship."
"I'll swear by God, and Saint Martin of Tours, to have seen himwith their gang," said another, "when they pillaged our metairie(a small farm)."
"Nay, but," said a boy, "yonder heathen was black, and this youthis fair; yonder one had short curled hair, and this hath long fairlocks."
"Ay, child," said the peasant, "and perhaps you will say yonderone had a green coat and this a gray jerkin. But his worship, theProvost, knows that they can change their complexions as easily astheir jerkins, so that I am still minded he was the same."
"It is enough that you have seen him intermeddle with the course ofthe King's justice, by attempting to recover an executed traitor,"said the officer. -- "Trois Eschelles and Petit Andre, dispatch."
"Stay, signior officer!" exclaimed the youth in mortal agony; "hearme speak -- let me not die guiltlessly -- my blood will be requiredof you by my countrymen in this world, and by Heaven's justice inthat which is to follow."
"I will answer for my actions in both," said the Provost, coldly,and made a sign with his left hand to the executioners; then, witha smile of triumphant malice, touched with his forefinger his rightarm, which hung suspended in a scarf, disabled probably by the blowwhich Durward had dealt him that morning.
"Miserable, vindictive wretch!" answered Quentin, persuaded bythat action that private revenge was the sole motive of this man'srigour, and that no mercy whatever was to be expected from him.
"The poor youth raves," said the functionary: "speak a word ofcomfort to him ere he make his transit, Trois Eschelles; thou arta comfortable man in such cases when a confessor is not to be had.Give him one minute of ghostly advice, and dispatch matters in thenext. I must proceed on the rounds. -- Soldiers, follow me!"
The Provost rode on, followed by his guard, excepting two or three,who were left to assist in the execution. The unhappy youth castafter him an eye almost darkened by despair, and thought he heardin every tramp of his horse's retreating hoofs the last slightchance of his safety vanish. He looked around him in agony, and wassurprised, even in that moment, to see the stoical indifference ofhis fellow prisoners. They had previously testified every sign offear, and made every effort of escape; but now, when secured anddestined apparently to inevitable death, they awaited its arrivalwith the utmost composure. The scene of fate before them gave,perhaps, a more yellow tinge to their swarthy cheeks; but it neitheragitated their features, nor quenched the stubborn haughtiness oftheir eye. They seemed like foxes, which, after all their wilesand artful attempts at escape are exhausted, die with a silent andsullen fortitude which wolves and bears, the fiercer objects of thechase, do not exhibit. They were undaunted by the conduct of thefatal executioners, who went about their work with more deliberationthan their master had recommended, and which probably arose fromtheir having acquired by habit a sort of pleasure in the dischargeof their horrid office. We pause an instant to describe them, because,under a tyranny, whether despotic or popular, the character of thehangman becomes a subject of grave importance.
These functionaries were essentially different in their appearanceand manners. Louis used to call them Democritus and Heraclitus,and their master, the Provost, termed them Jean qui pleure and Jeanqui rit.
(Democritus and Heraclitus: two Greek philosophers of the fifthcentury; the former because of his propensity to laugh at thefollies of men was called the "laughing philosopher;" the latter,according to a current notion, probably unfounded, habitually weptover the follies of mankind)
(Jean qui pleure, and Jean qui rit: John who weeps and John wholaughs. One of these two persons, . . might with more accuracyhave been called Petit Jean, than Petit Andre. This was actuallythe name of the son of Henry de Cousin, master executioner of theHigh Court of Justice. S.)
Trois Eschelles was a tall, thin, ghastly man, with a peculiargravity of visage, and a large rosary round his neck, the use ofwhich he was accustomed piously to offer to those sufferers on whomhe did his duty. He had one or two Latin texts continually in hismouth on the nothingness and vanity of human life; and, had itbeen regular to have enjoyed such a plurality, he might have heldthe office of confessor to the jail in commendam with that ofexecutioner. Petit Andre, on the contrary, was a joyous looking,round, active, little fellow, who rolled about in execution of hisduty as if it were the most diverting occupation in the world. Heseemed to have a sort of fond affection for his victims, and alwaysspoke of them in kindly and affectionate terms. They were his poorhonest fellows, his pretty dears, his gossips, his good old fathers,as their age or sex might be; and as Trois Eschelles endeavoured toinspire them with a philosophical or religious regard to futurity,Petit Andre seldom failed to refresh them with a jest or two, as ifto induce them to pass from life as something that was ludicrous,contemptible, and not worthy of serious consideration.
I cannot tell why or wherefore it was, but these two excellentpersons, notwithstanding the variety of their talents, and the rareoccurrence of such among persons of their profession, were bothmore utterly detested than perhaps any creatures of their kind,whether before or since; and the only doubt of those who knew aughtof them was, whether the grave and pathetic Trois Eschelles or thefrisky, comic, alert Petit Andre was the object of the greatestfear, or of the deepest execration. It is certain they bore thepalm in both particulars over every hangman in France, unless itwere perhaps their master Tristan l'Hermite, the renowned ProvostMarshal, or his master, Louis XI.
It must not be supposed that these reflections were of QuentinDurward's making. Life, death, time, and eternity were swimmingbefore his eyes -- a stunning and overwhelming prospect, from whichhuman nature recoiled in its weakness, though human pride wouldfain have borne up. He addressed himself to the God of his fathers;and when he did so, the little rude and unroofed chapel, which nowheld almost all his race but himself, rushed on his recollection.
"Our feudal enemies gave my kindred graves in our own land," hethought, "but I must feed the ravens and kites of a foreign land,like an excommunicated felon!"
The tears gushed involuntarily from his eyes. Trois Eschelles,touching one shoulder, gravely congratulated him on his heavenlydisposition for death, and pathetically exclaiming, Beati qui inDomino moriuntur (blessed are they who die in the Lord), remarked,the soul was happy that left the body while the tear was in the eye.Petit Andre, slapping the other shoulder, called out, "Courage, myfair son! since you must begin the dance, let the ball open gaily,for all the rebecs are in tune," twitching the halter at the sametime, to give point to his joke. As the youth turned his dismayedlooks, first on one and then on the other, they made their meaningplainer by gently urging him forward to the fatal tree, and biddinghim be of good courage, for it would be over in a moment.
In this fatal predicament, the youth cast a distracted look aroundhim. "Is there any good Christian who hears me," he said, "that willtell Ludovic Lesly of the Scottish Guard, called in this country LeBalafre, that his nephew is here basely murdered?" The words werespoken in good time, for an Archer of the Scottish Guard, attractedby the preparations for the execution, was standing by, with oneor two other chance passengers, to witness what was passing.
"Take heed what you do," he said to the executioners, "if this youngman be of Scottish birth, I will not permit him to have foul play."
"Heaven forbid, Sir Cavalier," said Trois Eschelles; "but we mustobey our orders," drawing Durward forward by one arm. "The shortestplay is ever the fairest," said Petit Andre, pulling him onward bythe other.
But Quentin had heard words of comfort, and, exerting his strength,he suddenly shook off both the finishers of the law, and, withhis arms still bound, ran to the Scottish Archer. "Stand by me,countryman," he said, in his own language, "for the love of Scotlandand Saint Andrew! I am innocent -- I am your own native landsman.Stand by me, as you shall answer at the last day."
"By Saint Andrew! they shall make at you through me!" said theArcher, and unsheathed his sword.
"Cut my bonds, countryman," said Quentin, "and I will do somethingfor myself."
This was done with a touch of the Archer's weapon, and the liberatedcaptive, springing suddenly on one of the Provost's guard, wrestedfrom him a halbert with which he was armed. "And now" he said,"come on, if you dare."
The two officers whispered together.
"Ride thou after the Provost Marshal," said Trois Eschelles, "andI will detain them here, if I can. Soldiers of the Provost's guard,stand to your arms."
Petit Andre mounted his horse, and left the field, and the otherMarshals men in attendance drew together so hastily at the commandof Trois Eschelles, that they suffered the other two prisoners tomake their escape during the confusion. Perhaps they were not veryanxious to detain them; for they had of late been sated with theblood of such wretches, and, like other ferocious animals, were,through long slaughter, become tired of carnage. But the pretextwas, that they thought themselves immediately called upon to attendto the safety of Trois Eschelles; for there was a jealousy, whichoccasionally led to open quarrels, betwixt the Scottish Archersand the Marshal guards, who executed the orders of their Provost.
"We are strong enough to beat the proud Scots twice over, if it beyour pleasure," said one of these soldiers to Trois Eschelles.
But that cautious official made a sign to him to remain quiet, andaddressed the Scottish Archer with great civility. "Surely, sir,this is a great insult to the Provost Marshal, that you shouldpresume to interfere with the course of the King's justice, dulyand lawfully committed to his charge; and it is no act of justiceto me, who am in lawful possession of my criminal. Neither isit a well meant kindness to the youth himself, seeing that fiftyopportunities of hanging him may occur, without his being found inso happy a state of preparation as he was before your ill advisedinterference."
"If my young countryman," said the Scot, smiling, "be of opinion Ihave done him an injury, I will return him to your charge withouta word more dispute."
"No, no! -- for the love of Heaven, no!" exclaimed Quentin. "Iwould rather you swept my head off with your long sword -- it wouldbetter become my birth, than to die by the hands of such a foulchurl."
"Hear how he revileth," said the finisher of the law. "Alas! howsoon our best resolutions pass away! -- he was in a blessed framefor departure but now, and in two minutes he has become a contemnerof authorities."
"Tell me at once," said the Archer, "what has this young man done."
"Interfered," answered Trois Eschelles, with some earnestness, "totake down the dead body of a criminal, when the fleur de lys wasmarked on the tree where he was hung with my own proper hand."
"As I desire your protection," answered Durward, "I will tell youthe truth as if I were at confession. I saw a man struggling on thetree, and I went to cut him down out of mere humanity. I thoughtneither of fleur de lys nor of clove gilliflower, and had no moreidea of offending the King of France than our Father the Pope."
"What a murrain had you to do with the dead body, then?" said theArcher. "You 'll see them hanging, in the rear of this gentleman,like grapes on every tree, and you will have enough to do in thiscountry if you go a-gleaning after the hangman. However, I willnot quit a countryman's cause if I can help it. -- Hark ye, MasterMarshals man, you see this is entirely a mistake. You should havesome compassion on so young a traveller. In our country at homehe has not been accustomed to see such active proceedings as yoursand your master's."
"Not for want of need of them, Signior Archer," said Petit Andre,who returned at this moment. "Stand fast, Trois Eschelles, forhere comes the Provost Marshal; we shall presently see how he willrelish having his work taken out of his hand before it is finished."
"And in good time," said the Archer, "here come some of my comrades."
Accordingly, as the Provost Tristan rode up with his patrol on oneside of the little bill which was the scene of the altercation,four or five Scottish Archers came as hastily up on the other, andat their head the Balafre himself.
Upon this urgency, Lesly showed none of that indifference towardshis nephew of which Quentin had in his heart accused him; for heno sooner saw his comrade and Durward standing upon their defence,than he exclaimed, "Cunningham, I thank thee. -- Gentlemen --comrades, lend me your aid. -- It is a young Scottish gentleman --my nephew -- Lindesay -- Guthrie -- Tyrie, draw, and strike in!"
There was now every prospect of a desperate scuffle between theparties, who were not so disproportioned in numbers but that thebetter arms of the Scottish cavaliers gave them an equal chanceof victory. But the Provost Marshal, either doubting the issue ofthe conflict, or aware that it would be disagreeable to the King,made a sign to his followers to forbear from violence, while hedemanded of Balafre, who now put himself forward as the head of theother party, what he, a cavalier of the King's Bodyguard, purposedby opposing the execution of a criminal.
"I deny that I do so," answered the Balafre. "Saint Martin! (patronsaint of Tours, Lucca, and of penitent drunkards. He was greatlyhonoured in the Middle Ages.) there is, I think, some differencebetween the execution of a criminal and a slaughter of my ownnephew!"
"Your nephew may be a criminal as well as another," said the ProvostMarshal; "and every stranger in France is amenable to the laws ofFrance."
"Yes, but we have privileges, we Scottish Archers," said Balafre,"have we not, comrades?"
"Yes, yes," they all exclaimed together. "Privileges -- privileges!Long live King Louis -- long live the bold Balafre -- long live theScottish Guard -- and death to all who would infringe our privileges!"
"Take reason with you, gentlemen cavaliers," said the ProvostMarshal; "consider my commission."
"We will have no reason at your hand," said Cunningham; "our ownofficers shall do us reason. We will be judged by the King's grace,or by our own Captain, now that the Lord High Constable is not inpresence."
"And we will be hanged by none," said Lindesay, "but Sandie Wilson,the auld Marshals man of our ain body."
"It would be a positive cheating of Sandie, who is as honesta man as ever tied noose upon hemp, did we give way to any otherproceeding," said the Balafre. "Were I to be hanged myself, noother should tie tippet about my craig."
"But hear ye," said the Provost Marshal, "this young fellow belongsnot to you, and cannot share what you call your privileges."
"What we call our privileges, all shall admit to be such," saidCunningham.
"We will not hear them questioned!" was the universal cry of theArchers.
"Ye are mad, my masters," said Tristan l'Hermite. "No one disputesyour privileges; but this youth is not one of you."
"He is my nephew," said the Balafre, with a triumphant air.
"But no Archer of the Guard, I think," retorted Tristan l'Hermite.
The Archers looked on each other in some uncertainty.
"Stand to it yet, comrade," whispered Cunningham to Balafre. "Sayhe is engaged with us."
"Saint Martin! you say well, fair countryman," answered Lesly; andraising his voice, swore that he had that day enrolled his kinsmanas one of his own retinue. This declaration was a decisive argument.
"It is well, gentlemen," said the Provost Tristan, who was aware ofthe King's nervous apprehension of disaffection creeping in amonghis Guards. "You know, as you say, your privileges, and it isnot my duty to have brawls with the King's Guards, if it is to beavoided. But I will report this matter for the King's own decision;and I would have you to be aware, that, in doing so, I act moremildly than perhaps my duty warrants."
So saying, he put his troop into motion, while the Archers, remainingon the spot, held a hasty consultation what was next to be done."We must report the matter to Lord Crawford, our Captain, in thefirst place, and have the young fellow's name put on the roll."
"But, gentlemen, and my worthy friends and preservers," saidQuentin, with some hesitation, "I have not yet determined whetherto take service with you or no."
"Then settle in your own mind," said his uncle, "whether you chooseto do so, or be hanged -- for I promise you, that, nephew of mineas you are, I see no other chance of your 'scaping the gallows."
This was an unanswerable argument, and reduced Quentin at once toacquiesce in what he might have otherwise considered as no veryagreeable proposal; but the recent escape from the halter, whichhad been actually around his neck, would probably have reconciledhim to a worse alternative than was proposed.
"He must go home with us to our caserne," said Cunningham; "thereis no safety for him out of our bounds, whilst these man huntersare prowling."
"May I not then abide for this night at the hostelry whereI breakfasted, fair uncle?" said the youth -- thinking, perhaps,like many a new recruit, that even a single night of freedom wassomething gained.
"Yes, fair nephew," answered his uncle, ironically, "that we may havethe pleasure of fishing you out of some canal or moat, or perhapsout of a loop of the Loire, knit up in a sack for the greaterconvenience of swimming -- for that is like to be the end on't. TheProvost Marshal smiled on us when we parted," continued he, addressingCunningham, "and that is a sign his thoughts were dangerous."
"I care not for his danger," said Cunningham; "such game as we arebeyond his bird bolts. But I would have thee tell the whole to theDevil's Oliver (Oliver Dain: Oliver's name, or nickname, was LeDiable, which was bestowed on him by public hatred, in exchangefor Le Daim, or Le Dain. He was originally the King's barber, butafterwards a favourite counsellor. S.), who is always a good friendto the Scottish Guard, and will see Father Louis before the Provostcan, for he is to shave him tomorrow."
"But hark you," said Balafre, "it is ill going to Oliver emptyhanded, and I am as bare as the birch in December."
"So are we all," said Cunningham. "Oliver must not scruple to takeour Scottish words for once. We will make up something handsomeamong us against the next payday; and if he expects to share, letme tell you, the payday will come about all the sooner."
accursed heathen thieves-- take and kill -- bind them like beasts -.
"And now for the Chateau," said Balafre; "and my nephew shall tellus by the way how he brought the Provost Marshal on his shoulders,that we may know how to frame our report both to Crawford andOliver."