Red Eve: Chapter 18

Chapter 18

THE PLAGUE PIT

Seven long days had gone by and still Hugh and Grey Dick held out in
their Tower fortress. Though as yet unhurt, they were weary indeed,
since they must watch all night and could only sleep by snatches in the
daytime, one lying down to rest while the other kept guard.

As they had foreseen, except by direct assault, the place proved
impregnable, its moat protecting it upon three sides and the sheer wall
of the old city terminating in the deep fosse upon the fourth. In its
little armoury, among other weapons they had found a great store of
arrows and some good bows, whereof Hugh took the best and longest. Thus
armed with these they placed themselves behind the loopholes of the
embattled gateway, whence they could sweep the space before them. Or
if danger threatened them elsewhere, there were embrasures whence
they could command the bases of the walls. Lastly, also, there was the
central tower, whereof they could hold each landing with the sword.

Thrice they had been attacked, since there seemed to be hundreds of
folk in Avignon bent upon their destruction, but each time their bitter
arrows, that rarely seemed to miss, had repulsed the foe with loss. Even
when an onslaught was delivered on the main gateway at night, they
had beaten their assailants by letting fall upon them through the
_machicoulis_ or overhanging apertures, great stones that had been piled
up there, perhaps generations before, when the place was built.

Still the attacks did not slacken. Indeed the hate of the citizens of
Avignon against these two bold Englishmen, whose courage and resource
they attributed to help given to them by the powers of evil, seemed to
grow from day to day, even as the plague grew in the streets of that
sore-afflicted city. From their walls they could see friars preaching
a kind of crusade against them. They pointed toward the tower with
crucifixes, invoking their hearers to pull it stone from stone and slay
the wizards within, the wizards who had conspired with the accursed
Jews even beneath the eyes of his Holiness the Pope, to bring doom on
Avignon.

The eighth morn broke at length, and its first red rays discovered Hugh
and Dick kneeling side by side behind the battlements of the gateway.
Each of them was making petition to heaven in his own fashion for
forgiveness of his sins, since they were outworn and believed that this
day would be their last.

"What did you pray for, Dick?" asked Hugh, glancing at his companion's
fierce face, which in that half light looked deathlike and unearthly.

"What did I pray for? Well, for the first part let it be; that's betwixt
me and whatever Power sent me out to do its business on the earth. But
for the last--I'll tell you. It was that we may go hence with such a
guard of dead French as never yet escorted two Englishmen from Avignon
to heaven--or hell. Ay, and we will, master, for to-day, as they shouted
to us, they'll storm this tower; but if our strength holds out there's
many a one who'll never win its crest."

"Rather would I have died peacefully, Dick. Yet the blood of these
hounds will not weigh upon my soul, seeing that they seek to murder us
for no fault except that we saved a woman and two children from their
cruel devilries. Oh! could I but know that Red Eve and Sir Andrew were
safe away, I'd die a happy man."

"I think we shall know that and much more before to-morrow's dawn,
master, or never know anything again. Look! they gather yonder. Now let
us eat, for perhaps later we shall find no time."

The afternoon drew on toward evening and still these two lived. Of all
the hundreds of missiles which were shot or hurled at them, although a
few struck, not one of them had pierced their armour so as to do them
hurt. The walls and battlements or some good Fate had protected them.
Thrice had the French come on, and thrice they had retreated before
those arrows that could not miss, and as yet bridge and doors were safe.

"Look," said Dick as he set down a cup of wine that he had drained,
for his thirst was raging, "they send an embassy," and he pointed to
a priest, the same mad-eyed fellow who preached in the square when the
notary Basil led them into a trap, and to a man with him who bore a
white cloth upon a lance. "Shall I shoot them?"

"Nay," answered Hugh; "why kill crazed folk who think that they serve
God in their own fashion? We will hear what they have to say."

Presently the pair stood within speaking distance, and the priest called
out:

"Hearken, you wizards. So far your master the devil has protected you,
but now your hour has come. We have authority from those who rule this
city and from the Church to summon you to surrender, and if you will
not, then to slay you both."

"That, you shameless friar," answered Hugh, "you have been striving to
do these many days. Yet it is not we who have been slain, although we
stand but two men against a multitude. But if we surrender, what then?"

"Then you shall be put upon your trial, wizards, and, if found guilty,
burned; if innocent, set free."

"Put upon our trial before our executioners! Why, I think those fires
are alight already. Nay, nay, mad priest, go back and tell those whom
you have fooled that if they want us they can come and take us, which
they'll not do living."

Then the furious friar began to curse them, hurling at them the
anathemas of the Church, till at length Dick called to him to begone or
he would send an arrow to help him on the road.

So they went, and presently the sun sank.

"Now let us beware," said Dick. "The moon is near her full and will rise
soon. They'll attack between times when we cannot see to shoot."

"Ay," answered Hugh, "moreover, now this gateway is no place for us. Of
arrows there are few left, nor could we see to use them in the dark.
The stones too are all spent and therefore they can bridge the moat and
batter down the doors unharmed."

"What then?" asked Dick. "As we cannot fly, where shall we die?"

"On the roof of the old tower, I think, whence we can hurl ourselves
at last and so perhaps escape being taken alive, and torment. Look you,
Dick, that tower is mounted by three straight flights of steps. The
first two of these we'll hold with such arrows as remain to us--there
are three and twenty, as I think--and the last with axe and sword.
Listen! They come! Take a brand from the hall hearth and let us go light
the flambeaux."

So they went and set fire to the great torches of wood and tallow that
were set in their iron holders to light the steps of the tower. Ere the
last of them was burning they heard their enemies ravening without.

"Listen!" said Hugh as they descended to the head of the first flight of
stairs. "They are across the moat."

As he spoke the massive doors crashed in beneath the blows of a baulk of
timber.

"Now," said Hugh, as they strung their bows, "six arrows apiece here, if
we can get off so many, and the odd eleven at our next stand. Ah, they
come."

The mob rushed into the hall below, waving torches and swords and
hunting it as dogs hunt a covert.

"The English wizards have hid themselves away," cried a voice. "Let us
burn the place, for so we are sure to catch them."

"Nay, nay," answered another voice, that of the mad friar. "We must have
them beneath the torture, that we may learn how to lift the curse
from Avignon, and the names of their accomplices on earth and in hell.
Search, search, search!"

"Little need to search," said Grey Dick, stepping out on to the landing.
"Devil, go join your fellow-devils in that hell you talk of," and he
sent an arrow through his heart.

For a moment there followed the silence of consternation while the mob
stood staring at their fallen leader. Then with a yell of rage they
charged the stair and that fray began which was told of in Avignon
for generations. Hugh and Dick shot their arrows, nor could they miss,
seeing what was their target; indeed some of those from the great black
bow pinned foe to foe beneath them. But so crowded were the assailants
on the narrow stair that they could not shoot back. They advanced
helpless, thrust to their doom by the weight of those who pressed
behind.

Now they were near, the dead, still on their feet, being borne forward
by the living, to whom they served as shields. Hugh and Dick ran to the
head of the second flight and thence shot off the arrows that remained.

Dick loosed the last of them, and of this fearful shaft it was said that
it slew three men, piercing through the body of one, the throat of the
second and burying its barb in the skull of the third on the lowest
step. Now Dick unstrung his bow, and thrust it into its case on his
shoulder, for he was minded that they should go together at the last.

"Shafts have sung their song," he said, with a fierce laugh; "now it is
the turn of the axe and sword to make another music."

Then he gripped Sir Hugh by the hand, saying:

"Farewell, master. Oh, I hold this a merry death, such as the Saints
grant to few. Ay, and so would you were you as free as I am. Well,
doubtless your lady has gone before. Or at worst soon she will follow
after and greet you in the Gate of Death, where Murgh sits and keeps his
count of passing souls."

"Farewell, friend," answered Hugh, "be she quick or dead, thus Red Eve
would wish that I should die. _A Cressi! A Cressi!_" he cried and drove
his sword through the throat of a soldier who rushed at him.

They fought a very good fight, as doubtless the dead were telling each
other while they passed from that red stair to such rest as they had
won. They had fought a very good fight and it was hard to say which had
done the best, Hugh's white sword or Dick's grey axe. And now, unwounded
still save for a bruise or two, they stood there in the moonlight upon
the stark edge of the tall tower, the foe in front and black space
beneath. There they stood leaning on axe and sword and drawing their
breath in great sobs, those two great harvestmen who that day had toiled
so hard in the rich fields of death.

For a while the ever-gathering crowd of their assailants remained still
staring at them. Then the leaders began to whisper to each other, for
they scarcely seemed to dare to talk aloud.

"What shall we do?" asked one. "These are not men. No men could have
fought as they have fought us for seven days and at last have slain us
like sparrows in a net and themselves remained unhurt."

"No," answered another, "and no mortal archer could send his shaft
through the bodies of three. Still it is finished now unless they find
wings and fly away. So let us take them."

"Yes, yes," broke in Grey Dick with his hissing laugh, "come and take
us, you curs of Avignon. Having our breath again, we are ready to be
taken," and he lifted his axe and shook it.

"Seize them," shouted the leader of the French. "Seize them!" echoed
those who poured up the stairs behind.

But there the matter ended, since none could find stomach to face that
axe and sword. So at length they took another counsel.

"Bring bows and shoot them through the legs. Thus we shall bring them
living to their trial," commanded the captain of the men of Avignon. He
was their fourth captain on that one day, for the other three lay upon
the stairs or in the hall.

Now Hugh and Dick spoke together, few words and swift, as to whether
they should charge or leap from the wall and have done with it. While
they spoke a little cloud floated over the face of the moon, so that
until it had gone the French could not see to shoot.

"It's too risky," said Hugh. "If they capture us we must die a death to
which I have no mind. Let us hurl our weapons at them, then leap."

"So be it," whispered Dick. "Do you aim at the captain on the left and I
will take the other. Ready now! I think one creeps near to us."

"I think so, too," Hugh whispered back, "I felt the touch of his
garments. Only he seemed to pass us from behind, which cannot be."

The cloud passed, and once again they were bathed in silver light. It
showed the men of Avignon already bending their bows; it showed Hugh and
Grey Dick lifting axe and sword to hurl them. But between them and their
mark it showed also a figure that they knew well, a stern and terrible
figure, wearing a strange cap of red and yellow and a cape of rich,
black fur.

"O God of Heaven! 'tis Murgh the Helper," gasped Hugh.

"Ay, Murgh the Fire, Murgh the Sword," said Dick, adding quietly, "it
is true I was wondering whether he would prove as good as his word. Look
now, look! they see him also!"

See him they did, indeed, and for a moment there was silence on that
crowded tower top where stood at least a score of men, while their
fellows packed the hall and stair below by hundreds. All stared at
Murgh, and Murgh stared back at them with his cold eyes. Then a voice
screamed:

"Satan! Satan come from hell to guard his own! Death himself is with
you! Fly, men of Avignon, fly!"

Small need was there for this command. Already, casting down their bows,
those on the tower top were rushing to the mouth of the stair, and,
since it was blocked with men, using their swords upon them to hew a
road. Now those below, thinking that it was the English wizards who slew
them, struck back.

Presently all that stair and the crowded hall below, black as the mouth
of the pit, for such lights as still burned soon were swept away, rang
with the screams and curses and stifled groans of the trodden down or
dying. In the pitchy darkness brother smote brother, friend trampled
out the life of friend, till the steep steps were piled high and the
doorways blocked with dead. So hideous were the sounds indeed, that
Hugh and Grey Dick crossed themselves, thinking that hell had come
to Avignon, or Avignon sunk down to hell. But Murgh only folded his
white-gloved hands upon his breast and smiled.

At length, save for the moaning of those hurt men who still lived, the
dreadful tumult sank to silence. Then Murgh turned and spoke in his slow
and icy voice:

"You were about to seek me in the fosse of this high tower, were you
not, Hugh de Cressi and Richard Archer? A foolish thought, in truth, and
a sinful, so sinful that it would have served you well if I had let you
come. But your strait was sore and your faith was weak, and I had no
such command. Therefore I have come to others whose names were written
in my book. Ay, and being half human after all--for does not your creed
tell you that I was born of Sin? I rejoice that it is given to me to
protect those who would have protected _me_ when _I_ seemed to stand
helpless in the hands of cruel men. Nay, thank me not. What need have I
of your thanks, which are due to God alone! And question me not, for why
should I answer your questions, even if I know those answers? Only do my
bidding. This night seek whom you will in Avignon, but to-morrow ere the
dawn ride away, for we three must meet again at a place appointed before
this winter's snows are passed."

"O dread lord of Death, one thing, only one," began Hugh.

But Murgh held up his white-gloved hand and replied:

"Have I not said that I answer no questions? Now go forth and follow the
promptings of your heart till we meet again."

Then gliding to the head of the stair he vanished in the shadow.

"Say, what shall we do?" asked Hugh in amazed voice.

"It matters little what we do or leave undone, master, seeing that we
are fore-fated men whom, as I think, none can harm until a day that will
not dawn to-morrow nor yet awhile. Therefore let us wash ourselves and
eat and borrow new garments, if we can find any that are not soiled,
and then, if the horses are still unharmed, mount and ride from this
accursed Avignon for England."

"Nay, Dick, since first we must learn whether or no we leave friends
behind us here."

"Ay, master, if you will. But since yonder Murgh said nothing of them,
it was in my mind that they are either dead or fled."

"Not dead, I pray, Dick. Oh, I am sure, not dead, and I left living!
When Red Eve and I met, Murgh had been with her and promised that she
would recover and be strong," answered Hugh bravely, although there was
a note of terror in his voice.

"Red Eve has other foes in Avignon besides the pest," muttered Grey
Dick, adding: "still, let us have faith; it is a good friend to man. Did
not yonder Helper chide us for our lack of it?"

They forced a way down the dead-cumbered tower stair, crawling through
the darkness over the bodies of the fallen. They crossed the hall that
also was full of dead, and of wounded whose pitiful groans echoed from
the vaulted roof, and climbed another stair to their chamber in the
gateway tower. Here from a spark of fire that still smouldered on the
hearth, they lit the lamps of olive-oil and by the light of them washed
off the stains of battle, and refreshed themselves with food and wine.
These things done, Dick returned to the hall and presently brought
thence two suits of armour and some cloaks which he had taken either
from the walls or from off the slain. In these they disguised themselves
as best they could, as de Noyon had disguised himself at Crecy.

Then, having collected a store of arrows whereof many lay about, they
departed by the back entrance. The great front doorway was so choked
with corpses that they could not pass it, since here had raged the last
fearful struggle to escape. Going to the little stable-yard, where they
found their horses unharmed in the stalls, although frightened by the
tumult and stiff from lack of exercise, they fed and saddled them and
led them out. So presently they looked their last upon the Bride's Tower
that had sheltered them so well.

"It has served our turn," said Hugh, glancing back at it from the other
side of the deserted square, "but oh, I pray heaven that we may never
see that charnel-house again!"

As he spoke a figure appeared from the shadow of a doorway, and ran
toward them. Thinking it was that of some foe, Dick lifted his axe to
cut him down, whereon a voice cried in English:

"Hold! I am David!"

"David!" exclaimed Hugh. "Then thanks be to God, for know, we thought
you dead these many days."

"Ay, sir," answered the young man, "as I thought you. The rumour reached
the Jews, among whom I have been hiding while I recovered of my hurts,
that the Mad Monk and his fellows had stormed the tower and killed you
both. Therefore I crept out to learn for myself. Now I have found you
by your voices, who never again hoped to look upon you living," and he
began to sob in his relief and joy.

"Come on, lad," said Grey Dick kindly, "this is no place for greetings."

"Whither go you, sir?" asked David as he walked forward alongside of the
horses.

"To seek that house where we saw Sir Andrew Arnold and the lady Eve,"
answered Hugh, "if by any chance it can be found."

"That is easy, sir," said David. "As it happens, I passed it not much
more than an hour ago and knew it again."

"Did you see any one there?" asked Hugh eagerly.

"Nay, the windows were dark. Also the Jew guiding me said he had heard
that all who dwelt in that house were dead of the plague. Still of this
matter he knew nothing for certain."

Hugh groaned, but only answered:

"Forward!"

As they went David told them his story. It seemed that when he was
struck down in the square where the crazy friar preached, and like to
be stabbed and trampled to death, some of the Jews dragged him into the
shadow and rescued him. Afterward they took him to a horrid and squalid
quarter called La Juiverie, into which no Christian dare enter. Here he
lay sick of his hurts and unable to get out until that very afternoon;
the widow Rebecca, whom they had saved, nursing him all the while.

"Did you hear aught of us?" asked Dick.

"Ay, at first that you were holding Dead Bride's Tower bravely. So as
soon as I might, I came to join you there if I could win in and you
still lived. But they told me that you had fallen at last."

"Ah!" said Dick, "well, as it chances it was not we who fell, but that
tale is long. Still, David, you are a brave lad who would have come to
die with us, and my master will thank you when he can give his mind to
such things. Say, did you hear aught else?"

"Ay, Dick; I heard two days ago that the French lord, Cattrina, whom Sir
Hugh was to have fought at Venice, had left Avignon, none knew why or
whither he went."

"Doubtless because of the plague and he wished to go where there was
none," answered Dick.

But Hugh groaned again, thinking to himself that Acour would scarcely
have left Avignon if Eve were still alive within its walls.

After this they went on in silence, meeting very few and speaking with
none, for the part of the great city through which they passed seemed to
be almost deserted. Indeed in this quarter the pest was so fearful
that all who remained alive and could do so had fled elsewhere, leaving
behind them only the sick and those who plundered houses.

"One thing I forgot to say," said David presently. "The Jews told me
that they had certain information that the notary knave Basil was paid
by the lord Cattrina to lead us to that square where the fires burned in
order that we might be murdered there. Further, our death was to be the
signal for the massacre of all the Jews, only, as it chanced, their plan
went awry."

"As will Basil's neck if ever I meet him again," muttered Grey Dick
beneath his breath. "Lord! what fools we were to trust that man. Well,
we've paid the price and, please God, so shall he."

They turned the corner and rode down another street, till presently
David said:

"Halt! yonder is the house. See the cognizance above the gateway!"

Hugh and Dick leapt from their horses, the latter bidding David lead
them into the courtyard and hold them there. Then they entered the
house, of which the door was ajar, and by the shine of the moon that
struggled through the window-places, crept up the stairs and passages
till they reached those rooms where Sir Andrew and Eve had lodged.

"Hist!" said Dick, and he pointed to a line of light that showed beneath
the closed door.

Hugh pushed it gently and it opened a little. They looked through the
crack, and within saw a man in a dark robe who was seated at a table
counting out gold by the light of a lamp. Just then he lifted his head,
having felt the draught of air from the open door. It was the notary
Basil!

Without a word they entered the room, closing and bolting the door
behind them. Then Dick leapt on Basil as a wolf leaps, and held him fat,
while Hugh ran past him and threw wide the door of that chamber in which
Eve had lain sick. It was empty. Back he came again and in a terrible
voice, said:

"Now, Sir Notary, where are the lady Eve and Sir Andrew her guardian?"

"Alas, Sir Knight," began the knave in a quavering voice, "both of them
are dead."

"What!" cried Hugh supporting himself against the wall, for at this
terrible news his knees trembled beneath him, "have you or your patron
Cattrina murdered them?"

"Murdered them, Sir Knight! I do murder? I, a Christian and a man of
peace! Never! And the noble lord of Cattrina, Count de Noyon! Why, he
wished to marry the lady, not to murder her. Indeed he swore that she
was his wife."

"So you know all these things, do you, villain?" said Grey Dick, shaking
him as a terrier shakes a rat.

"Sir Knight," went on the frightened fellow, "blame me not for the acts
of God. He slew these noble persons, not I; I myself saw the lovely lady
carried from this house wrapped in a red cloak."

"So you were in the house, were you?" said Grey Dick, shaking him again.
"Well, whither did they carry her, thief of the night?"

"To the plague pit, good sir; where else in these times?"

Now Hugh groaned aloud, his eyes closed, and he seemed as though he were
about to fall. Grey Dick, noting it, for a moment let go of the notary
and turned as though to help his master. Like a flash Basil drew a
dagger from under his dirty robe and struck at Dick's back. The blow was
well aimed, nor could an unprotected man on whom it fell have escaped
death. But although Basil did not see it because of Dick's long cloak,
beneath this cloak he wore the best of mail, and on that mail the
slender dagger broke, its point falling harmless to the ground. Next
instant Dick had him again in his iron grip. Paying no further heed to
Hugh, who had sunk to the floor a huddled heap, he began to speak into
the lawyer's ear in his slow, hissing voice.

"Devil," he said, "whether or no you murdered Red Eve and Sir Andrew
Arnold the saint, I cannot say for certain, though doubtless I shall
learn in time. At least a while ago you who had taken our money, strove
to murder both of us, or cause us to be torn in pieces upon yonder
square where the fires burned. Now, too, you have striven to murder me
with that bodkin of yours, not knowing, fool, that I am safe from all
men. Well, say your prayers, since you too journey to the plague pit,
for so the gatherers of the dead will think you died."

"Sir," gasped the terrified wretch, "spare me and I will speak----"

"More lies," hissed Dick into his ear. "Nay, go tell them to the father
of lies, for I have no time to waste in hearkening to them. Take your
pay, traitor!"

A few seconds later Basil lay dead upon the floor.

Grey Dick looked at him. Kneeling down, he thrust his hands into the
man's pockets, and took thence the gold that he had been hiding away
when they came upon him, no small sum as it chanced.

"Our own come back with interest," he said with one of his silent
laughs, "and we shall need monies for our faring. Why, here's a writing
also which may tell those who can read it something."

He cast it on the table, then turned to his master, who was awakening
from his swoon.

Dick helped him to his feet.

"What has passed?" asked Hugh in a hollow voice.

"Murgh!" answered Dick, pointing to the dead man on the floor.

"Have you killed him, friend?"

"Ay, sure enough, as he strove to kill me," and again he pointed, this
time to the broken dagger.

Hugh made no answer, only seeing the writing on the table, took it up,
and began to read like one who knows not what he does. Presently his
eyes brightened and he said:

"What does this mean, I wonder. Hearken."

"Rogue, you have cheated me as you cheat all men and now I follow her
who has gone. Be sure, however, that you shall reap your reward in due
season, de Noyon."

"I know not," said Dick, "and the interpreter is silent," and he kicked
the body of Basil. "Perhaps I was a little over hasty who might have
squeezed the truth out of him before the end."

"'Her who is gone,'" reflected Hugh aloud. "'Tis Red Eve who is gone and
de Noyon is scarcely the man to seek her among passed souls. Moreover,
the Jews swear that he rode from Avignon two days ago. Come, Dick, let
that carrion lie, and to the plague pit."

An hour later and they stood on the edge of that dreadful place, hearing
and seeing things which are best left untold. A priest came up to them,
one of those good men who, caring nothing for themselves, still dared to
celebrate the last rites of the Church above the poor departed.

"Friends," he said, "you seem to be in trouble. Can I help you, for
Jesus' sake?"

"Perchance, holy Father," answered Hugh. "Tell us, you who watch this
dreadful place, was a woman wrapped in a red cloak thrown in here two or
three days gone?"

"Alas, yes," said the priest with a sigh, "for I read the Office over
her and others. Nay, what are you about to do? By now she is two fathoms
deep and burned away with lime so that none could know her. If you
enter there the guards will not let you thence living. Moreover, it is
useless. Pray to God to comfort you, poor man, as I will, who am sure it
will not be denied."

Then Dick led, or rather carried, Hugh from the brink of that awesome,
common grave.

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