The Life And Death Of Richard Yea And Nay Volume 91, Maurice Hewlett [beautiful books to read .TXT] 📗
- Author: Maurice Hewlett
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All This Points To Some Public Excitement. The Town Gate Was Opened Full
Early, The Booths About It Did A Great Trade; At A Quarter Before Seven
Sir Gilles De Gurdun Rode In, With His Father On His Right Hand, The
Prior Of Rouen On His Left, And Half A Dozen Of His Kindred, Fair And
Solid Men All. They Were Lightly Armed, Clothed In Soft Leather, Without
Shields Or Any Heavy War-Furniture: Old Gurdun A Squarely Built,
Red-Faced Man Like His Son, But With A Bush Of White Hair All About His
Face, And Eyebrows Like Curved Snowdrifts; The Prior (Old Gurdun's
Brother's Son) With A Big Nose, Long And Pendulous; Gilles' Brother
Bartholomew, And Others Whom It Would Be Tedious To Mention. Gilles
Himself Looked Well Knit For The Business In Hand; All The Old Women
Agreed That He Would Make A Masterful Husband. They Stabled Their Horses
In The Inn-Yard, And Went Into The Church Porch To Await The Bride's
Party.
A Trumpet At The Gate Announced Her Coming. She Rode On A Little Ambling
Horse Beside Her Brother Saint-Pol. With Them Were The Portentous Old
Lady, Dame Gudule, William Des Barres, A Very Fine French Knight,
Nicholas D'eu, And A Young Boy Called Eloy De Mont-Luc, A Cousin Of
Jehane's, To Bear Her Train. The Gossips At The Gate Called Her A Wooden
Bride; Others Said She Was Like A Doll, A Big Doll; And Others That They
Read In Her Eyes The Scorn Of Death. She Took No Notice Of Anything Or
Anybody, But Looked Straight Before Her And Followed Where She Was Led.
This Was Straightway Into The Church By Her Brother, Who Had Her By The
Hand And Seemed In A Great Hurry. The Marriage Was To Be Made In The
Lady Chapel, Behind The High Altar.
Twenty Minutes Later Yet, Or Maybe A Little Less, There Was Another
Surging To The Gate About The Arrival Of Four Knights, Who Came Posting
In, Spattered With Mud And The Sweat And Lather Of Their Horses. They
Were Quite Unknown To The People Of Gisors, But Seen For Great Men, As
Indeed They Were. Richard Of Anjou Was The First Of Them, A Young Man Of
Inches Incredible To Gisors. 'He Had A Face Like King Arthur's Of
Britain,' Says One: 'A Red Face, A Tawny Beard, Eyes Like Stones.'
Behind Him Were Three Abreast: Roussillon, A Grim, Dark, Heavy-Eyed
Man, Bearded Like A Turk; Béziers, Sanguine And Loose-Limbed, A Man With
A Sharp Tongue; Gaston Of Béarn, Airy Hunter Of Fine Phrases, Looking
Now Like The Prince Of A Fairy-Tale, With Roving Eyes All A-Scare For
Adventure. The Warders Of The Gate Received Them With A Flourish. They
Knew Nothing Of Them, But Were Certain Of Their Degree.
By Preconcerted Action They Separated There. Roussillon And Béziers Sat
Like Statues Within The Gate, One On Each Side Of The Way, Actually Upon
The Bridge; And So Remained, The Admired Of All The Booths. Gaston, Like
A Yeoman-Pricker In This Hunting Of The Roe, Went With Richard To The
Edge Of The Covert, That Is, To The Steps Of Saint Sulpice, And Stood
There Holding His Master's Horse. What Remained To Be Done Was Done With
Extreme Swiftness. Richard Alone, Craning His Head Forward, Stooping A
Little, Swaying His Scabbarded Sword In His Hand, Went With Long Soft
Strides Into The Church.
At The Entry He Kneeled On One Knee, And Looked About Him From Under His
Brows. Three Or Four Masses Were Proceeding; Out Of The Semi-Darkness
Shone The Little Twinkling Lights, And Illuminated Faintly The Kneeling
People, A Priest's Vestment, A Silver Chalice. But Here Was Neither
Marriage Nor Jehane. He Got Up Presently, And Padded Down The Nave,
Kneeling To Every Altar As He Went. Many An Eye Followed Him As He
Pushed On And Past The Curtain Of The Ambulatory. They Guessed Him For
The Wedding, And So (God Knows) He Was. In The Shadow Of A Great Pillar
He Stopped Short, And Again Went Down On His Knee; From Here He Could
See The Business In Train.
Volume 91 Book 1 (The Book Of Yea) Chapter 9 (Wild Work In The Church Of Gisors) Pg 51
He Saw Jehane At Prayer, In Green And White, Kneeling At Her Faldstool
Like A Painted Lady On An Altar Tomb; He Just Saw The Pure Curve Of Her
Cheek, The Coiled Masses Of Her Hair, Which Seemed To Burn It. All The
World With The Lords Thereof Was At His Feet, But This Treasure Which He
Had Held And Put Away Was Denied Him. By His Own Act She Was Denied. He
Had Said Yea, When Nay Had Been The Voice Of Heart And Head, Of Honour
And Love And Reason At Once; And Now (Close Up Against Her) He Knew That
He Was To Forbid His Own Grant. He Knew It, I Say; But Until He Saw Her
There He Had Not Clearly Known It. Go On, I Will Show You The Deeps Of
The Man For Good Or Bad. Not Lust Of Flesh, But Of Dominion, Ravened In
Him. This Woman, This Jehane Saint-Pol, This Hot-Haired Slip Of A Girl
Was His. The Leopard Had Laid His Paw Upon Her Shoulder, The Mark Was
Still There; He Could Not Suffer Any Other Beast Of The Forest To Touch
That Which He Had Printed With His Own Mark, For Himself.
Twi-Form Is The Leopard; Twi-Natured Was Richard Of Anjou, Dog And Cat.
Now Here Was All Cat. Not The Wolf's Lust, But The Lion's Jealous Rage
Spurred Him To The Act. He Could See This Beautiful Thing Of Flesh
Without Any Longing To Lick Or Tear; He Could Have Seen The Frail Soul
Of It, But Half-Born, Sink Back Into The Earth Out Of Sight; He Could
Have Killed Jehane Or Made Her As His Mother To Him. But He Could Not
See One Other Get That Which Was His. His By All Heaven She Was. When
Gurdun Squared Himself And Puffed His Cheeks, And Stood Up; When
Jehane, Touched By Saint-Pol On The Shoulder, Shivered And Left Staring,
And Stood Up In Turn, Swaying A Little, And Held Out Her Thin Hand; When
The Priest Had The Ring On His Book, And The Two Hands, The Red And The
White, Trembled To The Touch--Richard Rose From His Knee And Stole
Forward With His Long, Soft, Crouching Stride.
So Softly He Trod That The Priest, Old And Blear-Eyed As He Was, Saw Him
First: The Others Had Heard Nothing. With Jehane's Hand In His Own, The
Priest Stopped And Blinked. Who Was This Prowler, Afoot When All Else
Were On Their Knees? His Jaw Dropped; You Saw That He Was Toothless.
Inarticulate Sounds, Crackling And Dry, Came From His Throat. Richard
Had Stopped Too, Tense, Quivering For A Spring. The Priest Gave A
Prodigious Sniff, Turned To His Book, Looked Up Again: The Crouching Man
Was Still There--But Imminent. 'Wine Of Jesus!' Said The Priest, And
Dropped Jehane's Hand. Then She Turned. She Gave A Short Cry; The Whole
Assembly Started And Huddled Together As The Mailed Man Made His Spring.
It Was Done In A Flash. From His Crouched Attitude He Went, As It
Seemed, At One Bound. That Same Shock Drove Gilles De Gurdun Back Among
His People, And The Same Found Jehane Caged In A Hoop Of Steel. So He
Affronting And She Caught Up Stood Together, For A Moment. With One
Mailed Hand He Held Her Fast Under The Armpit, With The Other He Held A
Fidgety Sword. His Head Was Thrown Back; Through Glimmering Eyelids He
Watched Them--As One Who Says, What Next?--Breathing Short Through His
Nose. It Was The Attitude Of The Snatching Lion, Sudden, Arrogant,
Shockingly Swift; A Gross Deed, Done In A Flash Which Was Its Wonderful
Beauty. While The Company Was Panting At The Shock--For Barely A
Minute--He Stood Thus; And Jehane, Quiet Under So Fierce A Hold, Leaned
Not Upon Him, But Stood Her Own Feet Fairly, Her Calm Brows Upon A Level
With His Chin. Shameful If It Was, At That Moment Of Rude Conquest She
Had No Shame, And He No Thought Of Shame.
Nor Was There Much Time For Thought At All. Gurdun Cried On The Name Of
God And Started Forward; At The Same Instant Saint-Pol Made A Rush, And
With Him Des Barres. Richard, With Jehane Held Close, Went Backwards On
The Way He Had Come In. His Long Arm And Long Sword Kept His Distance;
He Worked Them Like A Scythe. None Tackled Him There, Though They
Followed Him Up As Dogs A Boar In The Forest; But Old Gurdun, The
Father, Ran Round The Other Way To Hold The West Door. Richard, Having
Gained The Nave And Open Country (As It Were), Went Swiftly Down It,
Volume 91 Book 1 (The Book Of Yea) Chapter 9 (Wild Work In The Church Of Gisors) Pg 52Carrying Jehane With Ease; He Found The Strenuous Old Man Before The
Door. 'Out Of My Way, De Gurdun,' He Cried In A High Singing Voice, 'Or
I Shall Do That Which I Shall Be Sorry For.'
'Bloody Thief,' Shouted Old Gurdun, 'Add Murder To The Rest!' Richard
Stretched His Sword Arm Stiffly And Swept Him Aside. He Tumbled Back;
The Crowd Received Him--Priests, Choristers, Peasants, Knights, All
Huddled Together, Baying Like Dogs. Count Richard Strode Down The
Steps.
'Alavi! Alavia!' Sang Gaston, 'This Is A Swift Marriage!' Richard,
Cooler Than Circumstances Warranted, Set Jehane On His Saddle, Vaulted
Up Behind Her, And As His Pursuers Were Tumbling Down The Steps,
Cantered Over The Flags Into The Street. Roussillon And Béziers, Holding
The Bridge, Saw Him Come. 'He Has Snatched His Sabine Woman,' Said
Béziers. 'Humph,' Said Roussillon; 'Now For Beastly War.' Richard Rode
Straight Between Them At A Hand-Gallop; Gaston Followed Close, Cheering
His Beast Like A Maniac. Then The Iron Pair Turned Inwards And Rode Out
Together, Taking The Way He Led Them, The Way Of The Dark Tower.
The Wonder Of Gisors Was All Dismay When It Was Learned Who This Tall
Stranger Was. The Count Of Poictou Had Ridden Into His Father's Country
And Robbed His Father's Man Of His Wife. We Are Ruled By Devils In
Normandy, Then! There Was No Immediate Pursuit. Saint-Pol Knew Where To
Find Him; But (As He Told William Des Barres) It Was Useless To Go There
Without Some Force.
Volume 91 Book 1 (The Book Of Yea) Chapter 10 (Night Work By The Dark Tower) Pg 53
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