sir nigel-第61部分

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of　the　line；　he　himself　with　Raguenel；　Tentiniac；　Alain　de
Karanais；　and　Dubois　rushed　round　the　flank　and　attacked　the
English　with　fury　from　behind。　　There　was　a　long　and　desperate
melee　until　once　more　the　heralds；　seeing　the　combatants　stand
gasping　and　unable　to　strike　a　blow；　rode　in　and　called　yet
another　interval　of　truce。

But　in　those　few　minutes　whilst　they　had　been　assaulted　upon　both
sides；　the　losses　of　the　English　party　had　been　heavy。　　The
Anglo…Breton　D'Ardaine　had　fallen　before　Beaumanoir's　sword；　but
not　before　he　had　cut　deeply　into　his　enemy's　shoulder。　　Sir
Thomas　Walton；　Richard　of　Ireland　one　of　the　Squires；　and　Hulbitee
the　big　peasant　had　all　fallen　before　the　mace　of　the　dwarf
Raguenel　or　the　swords　of　his　companions。　　Some　twenty　men　were
still　left　standing　upon　either　side；　but　all　were　in　the　last
state　of　exhaustion；　gasping；　reeling；　hardly　capable　of　striking
a　blow。

It　was　strange　to　see　them　as　they　staggered　with　many　a　lurch　and
stumble　toward　each　other　once　again；　for　they　moved　like　drunken
men；　and　the　scales　of　their　neck…armor　and　joints　were　as　red　as
fishes'　gills　when　they　raised　them　They　left　foul　wet　footprints
behind　them　on　the　green　grass　as　they　moved　forward　once　more　to
their　endless　contest。

Beaumanoir；　faint　with　the　drain　of　his　blood　and　with　a　tongue　of
leather；　paused　as　he　advanced。　　〃I　am　fainting；　comrades；〃　he
cried。　　〃I　must　drink。〃

〃Drink　your　own　blood；　Beaumanoir！〃　cried　Dubois；　and　the　weary
men　all　croaked　together　in　dreadful　laughter。

But　now　the　English　had　learned　from　experience；　and　under　the
guidance　of　Croquart　they　fought　no　longer　in　a　straight　line；　but
in　one　so　bent　that　at　last　it　became　a　circle。　　As　the　Bretons
still　pushed　and　staggered　against　it　they　thrust　it　back　on　every
side；　until　they　had　turned　it　into　the　most　dangerous　formation
of　all；　a　solid　block　of　men；　their　faces　turned　outward；　their
weapons　bristling　forth　to　meet　every　attack。　　Thus　the　English
stood；　and　no　assault　could　move　them。　　They　could　lean　against
each　other　back　to　back　while　they　waited　and　allowed　their　foemen
to　tire　themselves　out。　　Again　and　again　the　gallant　Bretons　tried
to　make　a　way　through。　　Again　and　again　they　were　beaten　back　by　a
shower　of　blows。

Beaumanoir；　his　head　giddy　with　fatigue；　opened　his　helmet　and
gazed　in　despair　at　this　terrible；　unbreakable　circle。　　Only　too
clearly　he　could　see　the　inevitable　result。　　His　men　were　wearing
themselves　out。　　Already　many　of　them　could　scarce　stir　hand　or
foot；　and　might　be　dead　for　any　aid　which　they　could　give　him　in
winning　the　fight。　　Soon　all　would　be　in　the　same　plight。　　Then
these　cursed　English　would　break　their　circle　to　swarm　over　his
helpless　men　and　to　strike　them　down。　　Do　what　he　might；　he　could
see　no　way　by　which　such　an　end　might　be　prevented。　　He　cast　his
eyes　round　in　his　agony；　and　there　was　one　of　his　Bretons　slinking
away　to　the　side　of　the　lists。　　He　could　scarce　credit　his　senses
when　he　saw　by　the　scarlet　and　silver　that　the　deserter　was　his
own　well…tried　squire；　William　of　Montaubon。

〃William！　　William！〃　he　cried。　　〃Surely　you　would　not　leave　me？〃

But　the　other's　helmet　was　closed　and　he　could　hear　nothing。
Beaumanoir　saw　that　he　was　staggering　away　as　swiftly　as　he　could。
With　a　cry　of　bitter　despair；　he　drew　into　a　knot　as　many　of　his
braves　as　could　still　move；　and　together　they　made　a　last　rush
upon　the　English　spears。　　This　time　he　was　firmly　resolved；　deep
in　his　gallant　soul；　that　he　would　come　no　foot　back；　but　would
find　his　death　there　amongst　his　foemen　or　carve　a　path　into　the
heart　of　their　ranks。　　The　fire　in　his　breast　spread　from　man　to
man　of　his　followers；　and　amid　the　crashing　of　blows　they　still
locked　themselves　against　the　English　shields　and　drove　hard　for
an　opening　in　their　ranks。

But　all　was　vain！　　Beaumanoir's　head　reeled。　　His　senses　were
leaving　him。　　In　another　minute　he　and　his　men　would　have　been
stretched　senseless　before　this　terrible　circle　of　steel；　when
suddenly　the　whole　array　fell　in　pieces　before　his　eyes；　his
enemies　Croquart；　Knolles；　Calverly；　Belford；　all　were　stretched
upon　the　ground　together；　their　weapons　dashed　from　their　hands
and　their　bodies　too　exhausted　to　rise。　　The　surviving　Bretons　had
but　strength　to　fall　upon　them　dagger　in　hands；　and　to　wring　from
them　their　surrender　with　the　sharp　point　stabbing　through　their
visors。　　Then　victors　and　vanquished　lay　groaning　and　panting　in
one　helpless　and　blood…smeared　heap。

To　Beaumanoir's　simple　mind　it　had　seemed　that　at　the　supreme
moment　the　Saints　of　Brittany　had　risen　at　their　country's　call。
Already；　as　he　lay　gasping；　his　heart　was　pouring　forth　its　thanks
to　his　patron　Saint　Cadoc。　　But　the　spectators　had　seen　clearly
enough　the　earthly　cause　of　this　sudden　victory；　and　a　hurricane
of　applause　from　one　side；　with　a　storm　of　hooting　from　the　other
showed　how　different　was　the　emotion　which　it　raised　in　minds
which　sympathized　with　the　victors　or　the　vanquished。

William　of　Montaubon；　the　cunning　squire；　had　made　his　way　across
to　the　spot　where　the　steeds　were　tethered；　and　had　mounted　his
own　great　roussin。　　At　first　it　was　thought　that　he　was　about　to
ride　from　the　field；　but　the　howl　of　execration　from　the　Breton
peasants　changed　suddenly　to　a　yell　of　applause　and　delight　as　he
turned　the　beast's　head　for　the　English　circle　and　thrust　his　long
prick　spurs　into　its　side。　　Those　who　faced　him　saw　this　sudden
and　unexpected　appearance。　　Time　was　when　both　horse　and　rider
must　have　winced　away　from　the　shower　of　their　blows。　　But　now
they　were　in　no　state　to　meet　such　a　rush。　　They　could　scarce
raise　their　arms。　　Their　blows　were　too　feeble　to　hurt　this　mighty
creature。　　In　a　moment　it　had　plunged　through　the　ranks；　and　seven
of　them　were　on　the　grass。　　It　turned　and　rushed　through　them
again；　leaving　five　others　helpless　beneath　its　hoofs。　　No　need　to
do　more！　　Already　Beaumanoir　and　his　companions　were　inside　the
circle；　the　prostrate　men　were　helpless；　and　Josselin　had　won。

That　night　a　train　of　crestfallen　archers；　bearing　many　a
prostrate　figure；　marched　sadly　into　Ploermel　Castle。　　Behind　them
rode　ten　men；　all　weary；　all　wounded；　and　all　with　burning　hearts
against　William　of　Montaubon　for　the　foul　trick　that　he　had　served
them。

But　over　at　Josselin；　yellow　gorse…blossoms　in　their　helmets；　the
victors　were　borne　in　on　the　shoulders　of　a　shouting　mob；　amid　the
fanfare　of　trumpets　and　the　beating　of　drums。　　Such　was　the　combat
of　the　Midway　Oak；　where　brave　men　met　brave　men；　and　such　honor
was　gained　that　from　that　day　he　who　had　fought　in　the　Battle　of
the　Thirty　was　ever　given　the　highest　place　and　the　post　of　honor；
nor　was　it　easy　for　any　man　to　pretend　to　have　been　there；　for　it
has　been　said　by　that　great　chronicler　who　knew　them　all；　that　not
one　on　either　side　failed　to　carry　to　his　grave　the　marks　of　that
stern　encounter。




XXIV。　　HOW　NIGEL　WAS　CALLED　TO　HIS　MASTER


My　sweet　ladye；〃　wrote　Nigel　in　a　script　which　it　would　take　the
eyes　of　love　to　read；　〃there　hath　been　a　most　noble　meeting　in　the
fourth　sennight　of　Lent　betwixt　some　of　our　own　people　and　sundry
most　worthy　persons　of　this　country；　which　ended；　by　the　grace　of
our　Lady；　in　so　fine　a　joust　that　no　man　living　can　call　to　mind
so　fair　an　occasion。　　Much　honor　was　gained　by　the　Sieurde
Beaumanoir　and　also　by　an　Almain　named　Croquart；　with　whom　I　hope
to　have　some　speech　when　I　am　hale　again；　for　he　is　a　most
excellent　person　and　very　ready　to　advance　himself　or　to　relieve
another　from　a　vow。　　For　myself　I　had　hoped；　with　Godde's　help；　to
venture　that　third　small　deed　which　might　set　me　free　to　haste　to
your　sweet　side；　but　things　have　gone　awry　with　me；　and　I　early
met　with　such　scathe　and　was　of　so　small　comfort　to　my　friends
that　my　heart　is　heavy　within　me；　and　in　sooth　I　feel　that　I　have
lost　honour　rather　than　gained　it。　　Here　I　have　lain　since　the
Feast　of　the　Virgin；　and　here　I　am　like　still　to　be；　for　I　can
move　no　limb；　save　only　my　hand；　but　grieve　not；　sweet　lady；　for
Saint　Catharine　hath　been　our　friend　since　in　so　short　a　time　I
had　two　such　ventures　as　the　Red　Ferret　and　the　intaking　of　the
Reaver's　fortalice。　　It　needs　but　one　more　deed；　and　sickerly　when
I　am　hale　once　more　it　will　not　be　long　ere　I　seek　it　out。　　Till
then；　if　my　eyes　may　not　rest　upon　you；　my　heart　at　least　is　ever
at　thy　feet。〃

So　he　wrote　from　his　sick…room　in　the　Castle　of　Ploermel　late　in
the　summer；　but　yet　another　summer　had　come　before　his　crushed
head　had　mended　and　his　wasted　limbs　had　gained　their　strength
once　more。　　With　despair　he　heard　of　the　breaking　of　the　truce；
and　of　the　fight　at　Mauron　in　which　Sir　Robert　Knolles　and　Sir
Walter　Bentley　crushed　the　rising　power　of　Brittany　…　a　fight　in
which　many　of　the　thirty　champions　of　Josselin　met　their　end。
Then；　when　with　renewed　strength　and　high　hopes　in　his　heart　he
went　forth　to　search　for　the　famous　Croquart　who　proclaimed
himself　ever　ready　night　or　day　to　meet　any　man　with　any　weapon；
it　was　only　to　find　that　in　trying　the　paces　of　his　new　horse　the
German　had　been　cast　into　a　ditch　and　had　broken　his　neck。　　In　the
same　ditch　perished　Nigel's　last　chance　of　soon　accomplishing　that
deed　which　should　free　him　from　his　vow。

There　was　truce　once　more　over　all　Christendom；　and　mankind　was
sated　with　war；　so　that　only　in　far…off　Prussia；　where　the
Teutonic　knights　waged　ceaseless　battle　with　the　Lithuanian
heathen；　could　he　hope　to　find　his　heart's　desire。　　But　money　and
high　knightly　fame　were　needed　ere　a　man　could　go　upon　the
northern　crusade；　and　ten　years　were　yet　to　pass　ere　Nigel　should
look　from　the　battlements　of　Marienberg　on　the　waters　of　the
Frische　Haff；　or　should　endure　the　torture　of　the　hot　plate　when
bound　to　the　Holy　Woden　stone　of　Memel。　　Meanwhile；　he　chafed　his
burning　soul　out　through　the　long　seasons　of　garrison　life　in
Brittany；　broken　only　by　one　visit　to　the　chateau　of　the　father　of
Raoul；　when　he　carried　to　the　Lord　of　Grosbois　the　news　of　how　his
son　had　fallen　like　a　gallant　gentleman　under　the　gateway　of　La
Brohiniere。

And　then；　then　at