惊婚记 英文版 Quentin Durward
瓦尔特.司各特 Sir Walter Scott
CHAPTER XXI: THE SACK
The gates of mercy shall be all shut up,And the flesh'd soldier, rough and hard of heart,In liberty of bloody hand shall range,With conscience wide as hell.
Countess's hand,which seemed as if, but for terror, it would have returned thecaress.
HENRY V
The surprised and affrighted garrison of the Castle of Schonwaldthad, nevertheless, for some time made good the defence of the placeagainst the assailants, but the immense crowds which, issuing fromthe city of Liege, thronged to the assault like bees, distractedtheir attention, and abated their courage.
There was also disaffection at least, if not treachery, among thedefenders, for some called out to surrender, and others, desertingtheir posts, tried to escape from the castle. Many threw themselvesfrom the walls into the moat, and such as escaped drowning, flungaside their distinguishing badges, and saved themselves by minglingamong the motley crowd of assailants. Some few, indeed, fromattachment to the Bishop's person, drew around him, and continuedto defend the great keep, to which he had fled, and others, doubtfulof receiving quarter, or from an impulse of desperate courage, heldout other detached bulwarks and towers of the extensive building.But the assailants had got possession of the courts and lowerparts of the edifice, and were busy pursuing the vanquished, andsearching for spoil, while one individual, as if he sought for thatdeath from which all others were flying, endeavoured to force hisway into the scene of tumult and horror, under apprehensions stillmore horrible to his imagination than the realities around were tohis sight and senses. Whoever had seen Quentin Durward that fatalnight, not knowing the meaning of his conduct, had accounted hima raging madman, whoever had appreciated his motives, had rankedhim nothing beneath a hero of romance.
Approaching Schonwaldt on the same side from which he had left it,the youth met several fugitives making for the wood, who naturallyavoided him as an enemy, because he came in an opposite directionfrom that which they had adopted. When he came nearer, he couldhear, and partly see, men dropping from the garden wall into thecastle fosse, and others who seemed precipitated from the battlementsby the assailants. His courage was not staggered, even for aninstant. There was not time to look for the boat, even had it beenpracticable to use it, and it was in vain to approach the posternof the garden, which was crowded with fugitives, who ever and anon,as they were thrust through it by the pressure behind, fell intothe moat which they had no means of crossing.
Avoiding that point, Quentin threw himself into the moat, nearwhat was called the little gate of the castle, and where there wasa drawbridge, which was still elevated. He avoided with difficultythe fatal grasp of more than one sinking wretch, and, swimming tothe drawbridge, caught hold of one of the chains which was hangingdown, and, by a great exertion of strength and activity, swayedhimself out of the water, and attained the platform from which thebridge was suspended. As with hands and knees he struggled to makegood his footing, a lanzknecht, with his bloody sword in his hand,made towards him, and raised his weapon for a blow which must havebeen fatal.
"How now, fellow," said Quentin, in a tone of authority. "Is thatthe way in which you assist a comrade? -- Give me your hand."
The soldier in silence, and not without hesitation, reached himhis arm, and helped him upon the platform, when, without allowinghim time for reflection, the Scot continued in the same tone ofcommand, "To the western tower, if you would be rich -- the Priest'streasury is in the western tower."
The words were echoed on every hand: "To the western tower -- thetreasure is in the western tower!" And the stragglers who werewithin, hearing of the cry, took, like a herd of raging wolves, thedirection opposite to that which Quentin, come life, come death,was determined to pursue.
Bearing himself as if he were one, not of the conquered, but of thevictors, he made a way into the garden, and pushed across it withless interruption than he could have expected, for the cry of "Tothe western tower!" had carried off one body of the assailants,and another was summoned together, by war cry and trumpet sound, toassist in repelling a desperate sally, attempted by the defendersof the keep, who had hoped to cut their way out of the castle,bearing the Bishop along with them. Quentin, therefore, crossed thegarden with an eager step and throbbing heart, commending himselfto those heavenly powers which had protected him through thenumberless perils of his life, and bold in his determination tosucceed, or leave his life in this desperate undertaking. Ere hereached the garden, three men rushed on him with levelled lances,crying, "Liege, Liege!"
Putting himself in defence, but without striking, he replied,"France, France, friend to Liege."
Quentin began to hope that his ?
"Vivat France!" cried the burghers of Liege, and passed on. Thesame signal proved a talisman to avert the weapons of four or fiveof La Marck's followers, whom he found straggling in the garden,and who set upon him crying, "Sanglier!"
In a word, Quentin began to hope that his character as an emissaryof King Louis, the private instigator of the insurgents of Liege,and the secret supporter of William de la Marck, might possiblybear him through the horrors of the night.
On reaching the turret, he shuddered when he found that the littleside door, through which Marthon and the Countess Hameline hadshortly before joined him, was now blockaded with more than onedead body.
Two of them he dragged hastily aside, and was stepping over thethird body, in order to enter the portal, when the supposed deadman laid hand on his cloak, and entreated him to stay and assist himto rise. Quentin was about to use rougher methods than strugglingto rid himself of this untimely obstruction, when the fallen mancontinued to exclaim, "I am stifled here, in mine own armour! -- Iam the Syndic Pavillon of Liege! If you are for us, I will enrichyou -- if you are for the other side, I will protect you, but donot -- do not leave me to die the death of a smothered pig!"
In the midst of this scene of blood and confusion, the presenceof mind of Quentin suggested to him that this dignitary might havethe means of protecting their retreat. He raised him on his feet,and asked him if he was wounded.
"Not wounded, at least I think not," answered the burgher, "butmuch out of wind."
"Sit down, then, on this stone, and recover your breath," saidQuentin, "I will return instantly."
"For whom are you?" said the burgher, still detaining him.
"For France -- for France," answered Quentin, studying to get away.
"What! my lively young Archer?" said the worthy Syndic. "Nay, ifit has been my fate to find a friend in this fearful night, I willnot quit him, I promise you. Go where you will, I follow, and couldI get some of the tight lads of our guildry together, I might beable to help you in turn, but they are all squandered abroad likeso many pease. -- Oh, it is a fearful night!"
During this time, he was dragging himself on after Quentin, who,aware of the importance of securing the countenance of a person ofsuch influence, slackened his pace to assist him, although cursingin his heart the encumbrance that retarded his pace.
At the top of the stair was an anteroom, with boxes and trunks,which bore marks of having been rifled, as some of the contents layon the floor. A lamp, dying in the chimney, shed a feeble beam ona dead or senseless man who lay across the hearth.
Bounding from Pavillon like a greyhound from his keeper's leash, andwith an effort which almost overthrew him, Quentin sprang througha second and a third room, the last of which seemed to be the bedroomof the Ladies of Croye. No living mortal was to be seen in eitherof them. He called upon the Lady Isabelle's name, at first gently,then more loudly, and then with an accent of despairing emphasis,but no answer was returned. He wrung his hands, tore his hair, andstamped on the earth with desperation. At length a feeble glimmerof light, which shone through a crevice in the wainscoting of a darknook in the bedroom, announced some recess or concealment behindthe arras. Quentin hasted to examine it. He found there was indeeda concealed room, but it resisted his hurried efforts to open it.Heedless of the personal injury he might sustain, he rushed at thedoor with the whole force and weight of his body, and such was theimpetus of an effort made betwixt hope and despair, that it wouldhave burst much stronger fastenings.
He thus forced his way, almost headlong, into a small oratory, wherea female figure, which had been kneeling in agonizing supplicationbefore the holy image, now sank at length on the floor, under thenew terrors implied in this approaching tumult. He hastily raisedher from the ground, and, joy of joys it was she whom he sought tosave -- the Countess Isabelle. He pressed her to his bosom -- heconjured her to awake -- entreated her to be of good cheer -- forthat she was now under time protection of one who had heart andhand enough to defend her against armies.
"Durward!" she said, as she at length collected herself, "is itindeed you? -- then there is some hope left. I thought all livingand mortal friends had left me to my fate. -- Do not again abandonme."
"Never -- never!" said Durward. "Whatever shall happen, whateverdanger shall approach, may I forfeit the benefits purchased byyonder blessed sign, if I be not the sharer of your fate until itis again a happy one!"
"Very pathetic and touching, truly," said a rough, broken, asthmaticvoice behind. "A love affair, I see, and, from my soul, I pity thetender creature as if she were my own Trudchen."
thecause of Liege, than his capacity of bearing arms. It afterwardsturned.
"You must do more than pity," said Quentin, turning towards thespeaker, "you must assist in protecting us, Meinheer Pavillon. Beassured this lady was put under my especial charge by your ally theKing of France, and, if you aid me not to shelter her from everyspecies of offence and violence, your city will lose the favour ofLouis of Valois. Above all, she must be guarded from the hands ofWilliam de la Marck."
"That will be difficult," said Pavillon, "for these schelms oflanzknechts are very devils at rummaging out the wenches. But I'lldo my best. -- We will to the other apartment, and there I willconsider. -- It is but a narrow stair, and you can keep the doorwith a pike, while I look from the window, and get together some ofmy brisk boys of the curriers' guildry of Liege, that are as trueas the knives they wear in their girdles. -- But first undo methese clasps -- for I have not worn this corselet since the battleof Saint Tron (fought by the insurgents of Liege against the Dukeof Burgundy, Charles the Bold, when Count of Charalois, in whichthe people of Liege were defeated with great slaughter. S.) and Iam three stone heavier since that time, if there be truth in Dutchbeam and scale."
The undoing of the iron enclosure gave great relief to the honestman, who, in putting it on, had more considered his zeal to thecause of Liege, than his capacity of bearing arms. It afterwardsturned out that being, as it were, borne forward involuntarily,and hoisted over the walls by his company as they thronged to theassault, the magistrate had been carried here and there, as thetide of attack and defence flowed or ebbed, without the power,latterly, of even uttering a word until, as the sea casts a log ofdriftwood ashore in the first creek, he had been ultimately thrownin the entrance to the Ladies of Croye's apartments, where theencumbrance of his own armour, with the superincumbent weight oftwo men slain in the entrance, and who fell above him, might havefixed him down long enough, had he not been relieved by Durward.
The same warmth of temper which rendered Hermann Pavillon a hotheaded and intemperate zealot in politics, had the more desirableconsequence of making him, in private, a good tempered, kind heartedman, who, if sometimes a little misled by vanity, was always wellmeaning and benevolent. He told Quentin to have an especial care ofthe poor pretty yung frau (young woman), and, after this unnecessaryexhortation, began to halloo from the window, "Liege, Liege, forthe gallant skinners' guild of curriers!"
One or two of his immediate followers collected at the summons andat the peculiar whistle with which it was accompanied (each of thecrafts having such a signal among themselves), and, more joiningthem, established a guard under the window from which their leaderwas bawling, and before the postern door.
Matters seemed now settling into some sort of tranquillity. Allopposition had ceased, and the leaders of the different classes ofassailants were taking measures to prevent indiscriminate plunder.The great bell was tolled, a summons to a military counsel, andits iron tongue communicating to Liege the triumphant possessionof Schonwaldt by the insurgents, was answered by all the bells inthat city, whose distant and clamorous voices seemed to cry, Hailto the victors! It would have been natural that Meinheer Pavillonshould now have sallied from his fastness, but either in reverentcare of those whom he had taken under his protection, or perhapsfor the better assurance of his own safety, he contented himselfwith dispatching messenger on messenger, to command his lieutenant,Peterkin Geislaer, to attend him directly.
Peterkin came, at length, to his great relief, as being the personupon whom, on all pressing occasions, whether of war, politics, orcommerce, Pavillon was most accustomed to repose confidence. He wasa stout, squat figure, with a square face and broad black eyebrows,that announced him to be opinionative and disputatious, -- anadvice giving countenance, so to speak. He was endued with a buffjerkin, wore a broad belt and cutlass by his side, and carried ahalberd in his hand.
"Peterkin, my dear lieutenant," said the commander, "this has beena glorious day -- night I should say -- I trust thou art pleasedfor once."
"I am well enough pleased that you are so," said the doughtylieutenant, "though I should not have thought of your celebratingthe victory, if you call it one, up in this garret by yourself,when you are wanted in council."
"But am I wanted there?" said the Syndic.
"Ay, marry are you, to stand up for the rights of Liege, that arein more danger than ever," answered the lieutenant.
"Pshaw, Peterkin," answered his principal, "thou art ever such aframpold grumbler --"
"Grumbler? not I," said Peterkin, "what pleases other people willalways please me. Only I wish we have not got King Stork, insteadof King Log, like the fabliau (fable) that the Clerk of SaintLambert's used to read us out of Meister Aesop's book."
(Refers to Aesop's fable. The commonwealth of frogs, having conceivedan aversion for their amiable king Log, asked Jupiter to send themanother sovereign. He accordingly bestowed upon them a stork whogradually devoured all his subjects.)
"Why then, I tell you, Master Pavillon, that this Boar or Bear islike to make his own den of Schonwaldt, and is probable to turnout as bad a neighbour to our town as ever was the old Bishop, andworse. Here has he taken the whole conquest in his own hand, andis only doubting whether he should be called Prince or Bishop --and it is a shame to see how they have mishandled the old man amongthem."
"I will not permit it, Peterkin," said Pavillon, hustling up, "Idisliked the mitre, but not the head that wore it. We are ten toone in the field, Peterkin, and will not permit these courses."
"Ay, ten to one in the field, but only man to man in the castle,besides that Nikkel Blok the butcher, and all the rabble of thesuburbs, take part with William de la Marck, partly for saus andbraus (means here carousing) (for he has broached all the ale tubsand wine casks), and partly for old envy towards us, who are thecraftsmen, and have privileges."
"Peter," said Pavillon, "we will go presently to the city. I willstay no longer in Schonwaldt."
"But the bridges of this castle are up, master," said Geislaer --"the gates locked, and guarded by these lanzknechts, and, if we wereto try to force our way, these fellows, whose everyday business iswar, might make wild work of us that only fight of a holyday."
"But why has he secured the gates?" said the alarmed burgher, "orwhat business hath he to make honest men prisoners?"
"I cannot tell -- not I," said Peter. "Some noise there is about theLadies of Croye, who have escaped during the storm of the castle.That first put the Man with the Beard beside himself with anger,and now he 's beside himself with drink also."
The Burgomaster cast a disconsolate look towards Quentin, and seemedat a loss what to resolve upon. Durward, who had not lost a wordof the conversation, which alarmed him very much, saw neverthelessthat their only safety depended on his preserving his own presenceof mind, and sustaining the courage of Pavillon. He struck boldlyinto the conversation, as one who had a right to have a voice inthe deliberation.
"I am ashamed," he said, "Meinheer Pavillon, to observe you hesitatewhat to do on this occasion. Go boldly to William de la Marck, anddemand free leave to quit the castle, you, your lieutenant, yoursquire, and your daughter. He can have no pretence for keeping youprisoner."
"For me and my lieutenant -- that is myself and Peter? -- Good --but who is my squire?"
"I am for the present," replied the undaunted Scot.
"You!" said the embarrassed burgess, "but are you not the envoy ofKing Louis of France?"
"True, but my message is to the magistrates of Liege -- and onlyin Liege will I deliver it. -- Were I to acknowledge my qualitybefore William de la Marck, must I not enter into negotiationswith him? Ay, and, it is like, be detained by him. You must get mesecretly out of the castle in the capacity of your squire."
"Good -- my squire -- but you spoke of my daughter -- my daughteris, I trust, safe in my house in Liege -- where I wish her fatherwas, with all my heart and soul."
"This lady," said Durward, "will call you father while we are inthis place."
"And for my whole life afterwards," said the Countess, throwingherself at the citizen's feet, and clasping his knees.
"Never shall the day pass in which I will not honour you, loveyou, and pray for you as a daughter for a father, if you will butaid me in this fearful strait. -- Oh, be not hard hearted! Think,your own daughter may kneel to a stranger, to ask him for life andhonour -- think of this, and give me the protection you would wishher to receive!"
"In troth," said the good citizen, much moved with her patheticappeal, "I think, Peter, that this pretty maiden hath a touch ofour Trudchen's sweet look -- I thought so from the first, and thatthis brisk youth here, who is so ready with his advice, is somewhatlike Trudchen's bachelor -- I wager a groat, Peter, that this isa true love matter, and it is a sin not to further it."
"It were shame and sin both," said Peter, a good natured Fleming,notwithstanding all his self conceit, and as he spoke he wiped hiseyes with the sleeve of his jerkin.
"She shall be my daughter, then," said Pavillon, "well wrapped upin her black silk veil and if there are not enough of true heartedskinners to protect her, being the daughter of their Syndic, it werepity they should ever tug leather more. -- But hark ye -- questionsmust be answered -- How if I am asked what should my daughter makehere at such an onslaught?"
"What should half the women in Liege make here when they followedus to the castle?" said Peter. "They had no other reason, sure, butthat it was just the place in the world that they should not havecome to. Our yung frau Trudchen has come a little farther than therest -- that is all."
"Admirably spoken," said Quentin, "only be bold, and take thisgentleman's good counsel, noble Meinheer Pavillon, and, at notrouble to yourself, you will do the most worthy action since thedays of Charlemagne. -- Here, sweet lady, wrap yourself close inthis veil" (for many articles of female apparel lay scattered aboutthe apartment) -- "be but confident, and a few minutes will placeyou in freedom and safety. Noble Sir," he added, addressing Pavillon,"set forward."
"Hold -- hold -- hold a minute," said Pavillon, "my mind misgivesme! -- This De la Marck is a fury, a perfect boar in his nature asin his name, what if the young lady be one of those of Croye? --and what if he discover her, and be addicted to wrath?"
"And if I were one of those unfortunate women," said Isabelle,again attempting to throw herself at his feet, "could you for thatreject me in this moment of despair? Oh, that I had been indeedyour daughter, or the daughter of the poorest burgher!"
"Not so poor -- not so poor neither, young lady -- we pay as wego," said the citizen.
"Forgive me, noble sir," again began the unfortunate maiden.
"Not noble, nor sir, neither," said the Syndic, "a plain burgher ofLiege, that pays bills of exchange in ready guilders. -- But thatis nothing to the purpose. -- Well, say you be a countess, I willprotect you nevertheless."
"You are bound to protect her, were she a duchess," said Peter,"having once passed your word."
"Right, Peter, very right," said the Syndic "it is our old LowDutch fashion, ein wort, ein man (a man of his word), and now letus to this gear. We must take leave of this William de la Marck,and yet I know not, my mind misgives me when I think of him, andwere it a ceremony which could be waived, I have no stomach to gothrough it."
"Were you not better, since you have a force together, to make forthe gate and force the guard?" said Quentin.
But with united voice, Pavillon and his adviser exclaimed againstthe propriety of such an attack upon their ally's soldiers, withsome hints concerning its rashness, which satisfied Quentin thatit was not a risk to be hazarded with such associates.
They resolved, therefore, to repair boldly to the great hall of thecastle, where, as they understood, the Wild Boar of Ardennes heldhis feast, and demand free egress for the Syndic of Liege and hiscompany, a request too reasonable, as it seemed, to be denied. Stillthe good burgomaster groaned when he looked on his companions, andexclaimed to his faithful Peter, "See what it is to have too boldand too tender a heart! Alas! Peterkin, how much have courage andhumanity cost me! and how much may I yet have to pay for my virtues,before Heaven makes us free of this damned Castle of Schonwaldt!"
As they crossed the courts, still strewed with the dying and dead,Quentin, while he supported Isabelle through the scene of horrors,whispered to her courage and comfort, and reminded her that hersafety depended entirely on her firmness and presence of mind.
"Not on mine -- not on mine," she said, "but on yours -- on yoursonly. Oh, if I but escape this fearful night, never shall I forgethim who saved me! One favour more only, let me implore at yourhand, and I conjure you to grant it, by your mother's fame and yourfather's honour!"
"What is it you can ask that I could refuse?" said Quentin, in awhisper.
"Plunge your dagger in my heart," said she, "rather than leave mecaptive in the hands of these monsters."
Quentin's only answer was a pressure of the young Countess's hand,which seemed as if, but for terror, it would have returned thecaress. And, leaning on her youthful protector, she entered thefearful hall, preceded by Pavillon and his lieutenant, and followedby a dozen of the Kurschenschaft, or skinner's trade, who attendedas a guard of honour on the Syndic.
As they approached the hall, the yells of acclamation and burstsof wild laughter which proceeded from it, seemed rather to announcethe revel of festive demons, rejoicing after some accomplished triumphover the human race, than of mortal beings who had succeeded in abold design. An emphatic tone of mind, which despair alone could haveinspired, supported the assumed courage of the Countess Isabelle,undaunted spirits, which rose with the extremity, maintained thatof Durward, while Pavillon and his lieutenant made a virtue ofnecessity, and faced their fate like bears bound to a stake, whichmust necessarily stand the dangers of the course.