Malo, and the skipper was willing for certain silver pieces to take me for his pa.s.senger. These I paid down out of a sufficient purse Des Bois had pressed upon me, and with a light and joyous heart tarried on the quay.
Thither came by presently a bluff priest of the town church that was like to give me a fall.
"What, Augustine!" he shouted, so that all on the jetty heard. "Whither art thou journeying?"
"And that thou wilt come near I will tell thee," I replied, not knowing for the world his name.
"Whither art thou bound?" said he.
"To Coutances," said I. "My lord archbishop, you remember."
"My lord archbishop," said he, "thou shouldst know is far from Coutances at this season--for his health."
Here I was troubled, for I had told many that my lord had sent for me on a certain business.
"Ah, yes," said I in haste, "before he went my lord left letters for me that I alone can fetch. But I must go aboard."
"Stay," said he, "a moment! What didst thou in that matter of Sir Hubert? There is a like case of conscience here in St Pierre."
I hurriedly told him that it was not proper for me to disclose so nice a case of conscience, even to my dear friend himself. Whereat he looked strangely at me, I thought, and soon went on his way, wishing me shortly a good voyage to Normandy.
By three o"clock we sailed away. And glad I was to see this second time the highland of the isle grow dim and faint as we sped away with the wind behind us.
CHAPTER XIII.
How I arrived at _St. Malo_, and, proceeding to the Abbey of _St.
Michael de Tombelaine_, found friends to set me on my road.
With a straight course that naught delayed we ran to St. Malo, that ancient town hard by the holy Mount of St Michael, the mother-house of our Vale Abbey, where I had good hope that I should quickly thence be sped upon my way.
So when we had come to port, bidding the captain farewell, I chartered a good horse to reach the holy place where, as men say, the blessed Michael came down to bid St. Aubert build him a brave house on that lonely rock.
It was the hour of vespers when I attained the hostel of the mount, but I had been aware the last few miles of the sound of a trot behind me, whose pace was marvellous like mine own. If I stayed a moment, the rider behind likewise stayed; if I went at a gallop, he galloped also. It gave me some concern to be followed by a caitiff, watching for my purse, as I had only a sheath-knife with which to defend myself.
However, seeing the abbey lights gleam kindly through its narrow windows, I urged my beast on, though in sooth she was weary; and as I clattered at last into the yard, saw, as I waited for a s.p.a.ce by the gateway, my follower walk his steed quietly by, peering the while as he pa.s.sed.
Now, I strove as soon as was convenient to gain audience of my lord abbot. And this was not easy at that time for a simple secular priest, such as I appeared, for there was ever strife and common contempt "twixt monk and parish priest, even as it is to-day.
"Audience of the holy father--and to-night?" repeated the seneschal, with proud disdain. "Good son, it is impossible, the abbot is engaged with knight and bishop; keep thou thy little matters till thou canst catch his rein, as he rides forth to-morrow."
"It is no little matter, good brother," I pleaded, "It is of life and death to many holy men."
"If it concerned a kingdom," returned he, "I could not send thee to the abbot now--with the little matters of thy parish to plague him withal,"
the fellow muttered under his breath.
As we debated thus, a most reverend monk pa.s.sed through the corridor, of a strangely lofty and n.o.ble air and of a winning sweetness, who stayed his journey as he saw my evident distress.
"What ails thee, O my son?" said he.
"I bear grave and sad news to my lord abbot," I said, "and news that he should know without delay."
"What is thy name?" he said, and searched me kindly with his eyes.
I could not lie to him, so I said simply, "Nigel," as I would fain say no more.
"Then, good Father Nigel," said he, seeing my reluctance, "I will go whisper in my lord"s ear, if thou wilt tell me more clearly of thy business."
"Tell him," said I, "that Abbot Michael, his good brother, has sent me with sad news of the miseries of Vale Abbey."
"So, my son," said the monk, gently, and disappeared through the stairway, whence he presently returned, and led me with him.
He led me to a certain fair chamber, wherein sat many great lords around my lord abbot.
"Who is this, brought by our brother of Bec?" said one, as I entered by the side of that great scholar, Lanfranc, the Abbot of Bec.
"This," said the abbot, an Italian also, "is an envoy from the isle of Guernsey, who comes with greeting from our brother yonder, bearing a sad tale with him, or I am mistaken."
I knelt to my lord, as he sat in his rich-broidered cloak, with his plump legs cross-gartered, as befits great n.o.bles, and, kissing his hand, begged that I might speak on.
"Nay; first, sir priest," he said, "tell us thy name, and then thy story."
"Indeed, father," I replied, "I am not that I seem; no priest am I, though bred in Vale cloister in Guernsey."
"Then how darest thou," said he, hotly, "to come hither in this habit?"
"If thou but knewest the greatness of the perils of our brethren, how they are near being murdered by savage men, thou wouldst forgive me, father. But I bear a name none need fear to own--I am Nigel de Bessin, and mine uncle its vicomte, would vouch for me, were he here----"
"As indeed he is," put in a pleasant voice of a gentleman that in scarlet cloak sat by my lord"s right hand. "And thou art my nephew?"
said he, as I moved forward to do him courtesy.
When we were made known he bade me proceed, a.s.suring me that all my wishes should be fulfilled.
"My lords," said I, "the good brothers of St. Michael of the Vale in Guernsey are besieged and shut in this four weeks, nay, stormed and murdered by a most pestilent villain and an innumerable horde of Moorish devils that are settled in the isle. Men call him Le Grand Sarrasin, and as ye have doubtless heard, he is a caitiff without mercy, that wars on women as on men, on monks and husbandmen. This is he that calls himself the Lord of the Norman seas, in clear treachery to our lord the duke, and so cunning he is that he hath watchmen and spies at every harbour, that he may establish himself more stoutly ere help come."
"And didst thou escape his hands?" said mine uncle, pondering, head upon hand.
"Nay; he caught me and shut me in the womb of the earth, but by G.o.d"s grace I escaped him--but this matters not. Give me your good aid to the duke, that in all haste I may return with a great host to save the brethren."
"How old art thou, my son?" asked Lanfranc.
"Father, but sixteen years," said I, as though I feared they might smile at me.
"And thou," said he, in admiration, "hast come through these terrors in such a spirit of courage, wisdom, and love. Verily, my lords, ye see here a child that G.o.d has led marvellously on an undoubted work of charity."
While their eyes rested on me with a wonder I loved not--for, indeed, what had I done above what any knightly youth should do for those he loves?--I spake on, telling them how few days" food remained at Vale, and how strait they were shut in, and begging them to see that I pa.s.sed on to William swiftly.