Tales of Romance Part 9

"The whole world is full of these Saracens!" he cried in anger, "G.o.d alone can save me. My good horse," added he, "you are very tired. If you had had only five days' rest, I would have led you to the charge; but I see plainly that I can get no help from you, and I cannot blame you for it, as you have served me well all day, and for this I thank you greatly. If ever we reach Orange you shall wear no saddle for twenty days, your food shall be the finest corn, and you shall drink out of a golden trough."

And the horse understood; he threw up his head, and pawed the ground, and his strength came back to him as of old. At this sight William Short Nose felt more glad than if he had been given fourteen cities.

No sooner had he entered a valley that led along the road to Orange, than he saw a fresh body of Saracens blocking one end. He turned to escape into another path, but in front of him rode a handful of his enemies. "By the faith that I swore to my dear Lady Gibourc," he said, "I had better die than never strike a blow," and so rode straight at their leader. "William!" cried the Saracen, "this time you will not escape me." But the sun was in his eyes, and his sword missed his aim.

Before he could strike another blow William had borne him from his horse and galloped away.

The mountain that he was climbing now was beset with enemies, like all the rest, and William looked in vain for a way of escape. He jumped from his horse and rubbed his flanks saying to him, "What will you do?

Your sides are bleeding, and you can scarcely stand; but remember, if once you fall it means my death."

At these words the good horse neighed, p.r.i.c.ked up his ears and shook himself, and as he did so the blood seemed to flow strongly in his veins, as of old. Then the count rode down into the field of the Aliscans, and found his nephew, Vivian, lying under a tree.

"Ah!" cried William, "what sorrow for me! To the end of my life I shall mourn this day. Lady Gibourc, await me no longer, for never more shall I return to Orange!"

So he lamented, grieving sore, till Vivian spoke to him. The Count was full of joy to hear his words, and, kneeling beside the youth, took him in his arms, and bade him confess his sins to him, as to his own father. One by one Vivian remembered them all, then a mist floated before his eyes, and, murmuring a farewell to the Lady Gibourc, his soul left the world.

[Ill.u.s.tration: Vivian's last confession]

William laid him gently down on his s.h.i.+eld, took another s.h.i.+eld for covering, and turned to mount his horse, but at this his heart failed him.

"Is it you, William, that men look to as their leader, who will do this cowardly deed?" he said to himself, and he went back to his nephew's side, and lifted the body on to his horse, to bury it in his city of Orange.

He had done what he could to give honour to Vivian, but he might as well, after all, have left him where he fell, for in a fierce combat with some Saracens on the road the Count was forced to abandon his nephew's body and fight for his own life. He knew the two Saracens well as brave men, but he soon slew one, and the other he unhorsed after a struggle.

"Come back, come back," cried the Saracen; "sell me your horse, for never did I behold his like! I will give you for him twice his weight in gold, and set free besides all your nephews that have been taken prisoners." But William loved his horse, and would not have parted with him to Charles himself.

At length, after fighting nearly every step of the way, he saw the towers of Orange before him, and his palace, Gloriette, where dwelt his wife, the Lady Gibourc. "Ah, with what joy did I leave these walls,"

he said to himself, "and how many n.o.ble Knights have I lost since then!

Oh, Gibourc, my wife, will you not go mad when you hear the tidings I have brought!" And, overcome with grief, the Count bowed his head on the neck of his horse.

PART III.

When he recovered himself he rode straight to the City Gate, and commanded the porter to let him in. "Let down the drawbridge," called he, "and be quick, for time presses." But he forgot that he had changed his own arms, and had taken instead those of a Saracen; therefore the porter, seeing a man with a s.h.i.+eld and pennon and helmet that were strange to him, thought he was an enemy, and stood still where he was. "Begone!" he said to William, "if you approach one step nearer I will deal you a blow that will unhorse you! Begone, I tell you, and as quick as you can, or when William Short Nose returns from the Aliscans it will be the worse for you."

"Fear nothing, friend," replied the Count, "for I am William himself.

I went to the Aliscans to fight the Saracens, and to help Vivian; but all my men are dead, and I only am left to bring these evil tidings.

So open the gates, for the Saracens are close behind."

"You must wait a moment," answered the porter, and he quitted the turret and hastened to the Lady Gibourc. "n.o.ble Countess," cried he, "there knocks at the drawbridge a Knight in Pagan armour, who seems fresh from battle, for his arms are b.l.o.o.d.y. He is tall of stature and bears himself proudly, and he says he is William Short Nose. I pray you, my lady, come with me and see him for yourself."

The face of Gibourc grew red when she heard the porter's words, and she left the Palace and mounted the battlements, where she called, "Warrior, what is your will?"

"Oh, lady," answered he, "open the gate, and that quickly. Twenty thousand Saracens are close upon my track; if they reach me, I am a dead man."

"You cannot enter," replied Gibourc. "I am alone here except for this porter, a priest, a few children, and some ladies whose husbands are all at the war. Neither gate nor wicket will be opened until the return of my beloved lord, William the Count." Then William bowed his head for a moment, and tears ran down his cheeks.

"My lady, I am William himself," said he. "Do you not know me?"

"Saracen, you lie," replied Gibourc. "Take off your helmet and let me see who you are!"

"n.o.ble Countess," cried he, "this is no time to parley. Look round you! Is not every hill covered with enemies?"

"Ah, now I know you are not William," answered she, "for all the Saracens in the world would never have stirred him with fear. By St.

Peter! neither gate nor wicket shall be opened till I have seen your face. I am alone and must defend myself. The voices of many men are alike."

Then the Count lifted his helmet: "Lady look and be content. I am William himself. Now let me in."

Gibourc knew that it was indeed the Count who had returned, and was about to order the gates to be opened when there appeared in sight a troop of Saracens escorting two hundred prisoners, all of them young Knights, and thirty ladies with fair, white faces. Each one was loaded with chains, and cowered under the blows of their captors. Their cries and prayers for mercy reached the ears of Gibourc, and, changing her mind, she said quickly: "There is the proof that you are not William, my husband, whose fame has spread far! For he would never have suffered his brethren to be so shamefully entreated while he was by!"

"Heavens!" cried the Count, "to what hard tests does she put me! But if I lose my head I will do her bidding, for what is there that I would _not_ do for the love of G.o.d and of her!"

PART IV.

Without a word more he turned, and spurred his horse at the Saracens.

So sudden and fierce was his attack that the foremost riders fell back on those behind, who were thrown into confusion, while William's sword swept him a path to the centre, where the prisoners stood bound. The Saracens expected the city gates to open and a body of Franks to come forth to destroy them, and without waiting another moment they turned and fled.

[Ill.u.s.tration: The Captives--William Short-nose rides to the rescue]

"Oh, fair lord," called Gibourc, who from the battlements had watched the fight, "come back, come back, for now indeed you may enter." And William heard her voice, and left the Saracens to go where they would while he struck the chains off the prisoners, and led them to the gates of Orange, when he himself rode back to the Saracens.

Not again would the Lady Gibourc have reason to call him coward.

And Gibourc saw, and her heart swelled within her, and she repented her of her words. "It is my fault if he is slain,", she wept. "Oh, come back, come back!"

And William came.

Now the drawbridge was let down, and he entered the city followed by the Christians whom he had delivered, and the Countess unlaced his helmet, and bathed his wounds, and then stopped, doubting.

"You cannot be William after all," said she, "for William would have brought back the young kinsmen who went with him; and would have been encircled by minstrels singing the great deeds he had done."

"Ah, n.o.ble Countess, you speak truth," answered he. "Henceforth my life will be spent in mourning, for my friends and comrades who went to war with me are lying dead at the Aliscan."

Great was the sorrow in the city of Orange and in the palace of her lord, where the ladies of the Countess mourned for their husbands. But it was Gibourc who first roused herself from her grief for Vivian and others whom she had loved well. "n.o.ble Count," she said, "do not lose your courage. Remember it is not near Orleans, in safety, that your lands lie, but in the very midst of the Saracens. Orange never will have peace till they are subdued. So send messengers to King Louis, and to your father, Aimeri, asking for aid."

"Heavens!" cried William, "has the world ever seen so wise a lady?"

"Let no one turn you from your road," she went on. "At the news of your distress all the Barons that are your kin will fly to your help.

Their numbers are as the sands of the sea."

"But how shall I make them believe in what has befallen us?" answered William. "If I do not go myself I will send n.o.body, and go myself I will not, for I will not leave you alone again for all the gold in Pavia."

"Sir, you must go," said Gibourc, weeping. "I will stay here with my ladies, and each will place a helmet on her head, and hang a s.h.i.+eld round her neck, and buckle a sword to her side, and with the help of the Knights whom you have delivered, we shall know how to defend ourselves."

William's heart bounded at her words; he took her in his arms, and promised that he himself would go, and that he would never lie soft till he returned again to Orange.

PART V.