[Footnote 45: By a charter of 1103, churches allowed an asylum within a s.p.a.ce of thirty paces in circ.u.mference. _Ecclesiae salvitatem habeant triginta pa.s.suum circ.u.mcirca.--Marca._]

A great struggle now ensues, the Bearnais resolving to oppose the Cagot's entrance to the sanctuary, and the knight and his followers maintaining his attempt. The young Marie of Lignac at length forces her way through the crowd, and laying her hand on the Cagot, demands, by virtue of the _fors et coutumes_, that he be given up to the protection of a n.o.ble lady who claims her right to shelter the guilty.

This appeal was not to be treated with contempt; and the mob, perhaps tired of the conflict, gave way with a sudden feeling of respect; while Marie led the persecuted Cagot, surrounded by the knight's men-at-arms, to the door of the church, where he entered, and was in safety.

The next scene of the story introduces the reader to the old knight of Artiguelouve, and the interior of his castle,[46] where the late events are recounted to him by his wife and son, with great bitterness; and envy and offended pride excite the mother and son to resolutions of vengeance, which the father, a man apparently soured with misfortune, and saddened by some concealed sin, can only oppose by expressions of contempt, which irritate the more.

[Footnote 46: The castle of Artiguelouve is still standing--a curious monument of ancient grandeur; it is situated near Sauveterre.]

The demoiselle de Lignac, meantime, is arrived at the Castle of Orthez, and received, as well as her uncle, with great honour by Gaston de Foix, who proposes inst.i.tuting his beautiful guest the queen of the approaching tournament.

The unknown knight, having left the Cagot with the monks of Aubertin, and acted the part of the good Samaritan by his charge, is next seen pursuing his way southward; where, in the mountains, an interview takes place between him and his father, who is, it seems, a proscribed man.

They meet after many years of absence, during which the young knight has won all kinds of honour, having gone to the wars under the care and adoption of a brave champion, Messire Augerot de Domezain; who, dying of his wounds, had recommended his young friend to the King of Castile, from whom he receives knighthood. He learns from his father that the holy hermit, brother of Augerot, under whoso care he was brought up, is dead; and he further learns, that the time is nearly come when the secret of his father's misfortunes will be revealed to him. All that the knight, in fact, knows about himself is, that a cloud hangs over the n.o.ble family to which he belongs, and that his father is obliged to conceal himself to escape persecution.

The father and son separate: the one retiring to his retreat in the Vallee d'Aspe, the other journeying onwards to the court of Gaston Phoebus.

He has arrived at Orthez, and has just reached the famous _Hotel de la Lune_, described by Froissart, when he falls into an ambush, and is carried off by unknown enemies, and thrown into a dungeon in the ruins of an abandoned castle, situated on a hill to the south of the Valley of Geu, between Lagor and Sauvelade--a spot which may still be seen. Here the unfortunate knight is left to lament and mourn, that all his hopes of distinguishing himself in the tournament, and of again seeing the beautiful Marie, are destroyed at once.

The _fetes_ go on, and every thing at Orthez breathes of gaiety and splendour; the people have their games; the Pyrrhic dances, called _sauts Basques_, are in full force, performed by the Escualdunacs in their parti-coloured dresses, and red sashes; the Bearnais execute their spiral dances,[47] and sing their mountain-songs and ballads; some cast great stones and iron bars, in which exercises is distinguished Ernauton d'Espagne, the strong knight mentioned in Froissart as being able to bring into the hall of Gaston an a.s.s fully laden with fuel, and to throw the whole on the hearth, to the great delight of all present. These scenes give occasion to the author to introduce many of the proverbial sayings of the people, which are curious and characteristic. Their strictures on the dress and appearance of the knights and n.o.bles, are in keeping with the freedom of the habits of the day, when the commonalty, however oppressed in some particulars, were allowed a singular lat.i.tude of speech.

[Footnote 47: _i.e._ lifting their partners into the air.]

Amongst their homely sayings, occur the following:--

"Habillat u bastou qu', aura l'air d'u baron."

Dress up a stick, and you can give it the air of a baron.

"Nout basques mey gran hech que non pouchques lheba:"

Do not make a larger f.a.got than you can lift.

"Quabau mey eslurras dap l'esclop que dap la lengue."

It is better to slide with _sabots_ than with the tongue.

"Yamey nou fondes maysou aupres d'aigue ni de seignou."

Never build a house near a torrent nor a great lord.

"Las sourcieros et lous loup-garous Aus cures han minya capons."

Witches and loup-garoux make priests eat fat capons, _i.e. are to their advantage_--an adage which would seem to infer that the search for sorcery was known to be a _job_ in all ages.

The tournament goes on: and, to the great disappointment of the lady of the lists, no stranger-knight appears; and her admirer, Odon, is the victor over all others; when, just at the last moment, the trumpet of the Unknown sounds, and he comes into the arena, and challenges the envious knight, after defeating all the others, Dame Ga.r.s.ende has recourse to a stratagem to overcome him, which fails in regard to him, but overwhelms her son in confusion, and causes his defeat: she cuts the cord of a canopy under which the knight has to pa.s.s, in the hope that it will fall in his way, and enc.u.mber his advance; but he adroitly catches it on the end of his spear, and Odon, in falling from his horse after the knight's attack, gets entangled in the garlands and drapery, and makes a very ridiculous figure. Of course the stranger-knight is made happy in the chaplet placed on his brow by Marie, and the kiss of custom by which the gift is accompanied. His rival retires, vowing vengeance.

A grand feast then takes place; and as the guests arrive they are severally recognised by the people. The stranger-knight, whose device is _a branch of vine clinging to an aged tree_, is hailed with acclamation, and a tumult of enthusiasm, consequent on his successes and his honourable reception by Gaston Phoebus; to whom, when questioned as to his name and family, he replies that he is called Raymond, the adopted son of Messire Augerot de Domezain. Gaston instantly recognises in him a knight whose valorous deeds are on record, and who saved the life of Marie de Lignac's father, at the battle of Aljubarotta.

Raymond produces a chain of gold, which the dying knight had charged him to deliver to Gaston, to be sent to his daughter; and the tears and thanks of the young lady are the reward of his accomplished mission.

The stranger-knight is now at the height of favour: adopted by Ernauton d'Espagne as his brother-in-arms; welcomed by the gorgeous Gaston Phoebus; hailed by the people; and, above all, loved by Marie. He is, of course, exposed to the evil designs of Ga.r.s.ende and her son, from which he twice escapes; but they are obliged to conceal their enmity, and he is ignorant from whence he is attacked. During a grand banquet, a minstrel, whose verses had warned him to avoid a poisoned cup, unable to approach him near enough to deliver a billet, gives it in charge to one of his favourite men-at-arms, who places it in the sheath of his sword till he can transmit it to his master. This action is observed by Ga.r.s.ende; who, afterwards, taking advantage of the soldier's fondness for the fine vintage of Jurancon, contrives to get possession of the letter, and excites the jealousy of Marie, who imagines it written by a woman, deceived by the expressions, "My beloved Raymond," and the signature of "The Being dearest to your Heart," and the mysterious rendezvous appointed, all of which is, in fact, written by his exiled father. This plot, however, fails, through the candour and devotion of Marie; and the knight keeps the tryst which his father had appointed at a ruined hermitage, formerly tenanted by the preceptor of Raymond, on a lonely hill above the Vallee d'Aspe. Here they meet; and a scene of tenderness on the part of the son, and mystery on that of the father, ensues; in which the latter entreats yet a little time before he discloses certain secrets of moment, concerning the young knight, whose successes appear to produce a strange effect on his mind, almost amounting to regret, for which the other cannot account. When they part, he agrees that, when he has once seen him the husband of Marie,--who, though aware of the mystery which envelopes him, has generously granted him her hand,--and when he knows him to be _removed from all danger_, he will no longer withhold the information he has to give.

They separate; but enemies have been on their track; and the father is watched to his concealed retreat, while Raymond remains sleeping at the foot of the altar, in the hermitage. The intention of Odon d'Artiguelouve, who is on the spot, had been to murder him as he slept; but the information brought him by his spies, who have watched the old man, entirely changes his intentions. A more secure revenge is in his power, and he returns to his castle with extraordinary satisfaction; leaving the happy lover of Marie, and the successful victor of the lists, to his dreams of future bliss.

The great day arrives on which Gaston de Foix has announced a solemn festival, to be held in honour of the Knight of the Vine-branch, and his affianced bride, Marie de Lignac. All the n.o.bles of the country a.s.semble; and, amongst them, the old "grim baron," Loup Bergund d'Artiguelouve, and his family. Minstrels sing, music sounds, and honours and compliments pour upon the favoured knight; and even his rivals, to judge by their joyous countenances, have only pleasure in their hearts. The Prince of Bearn, and his brilliant court, enter their decorated pavilion amidst the shouts of the a.s.sembled guests; the people are admitted to view the jousts; and Raymond advances to the foot of the throne, and receives a paternal embrace from the courteous Gaston Phoebus. The signal is given for the amus.e.m.e.nts to begin, when a loud voice is heard above the trumpets and the clash of instruments: the herald-at-arms pauses; and Odon d'Artiguelouve, who had cried, "Hold!"

stands up in his seat, and thunders forth these ominous words:

"'Suspend the solemnities; for I behold here, on this spot, in presence of our august a.s.sembly, one of those impure beings on whom the sun shines with disgust,--who excite horror in heaven and on earth,--whose breath poisons the air we breathe,--whose hand pollutes all it touches.

Hold! for, I tell you, there is a Cagot amongst us!'"

As he spoke, he pointed with a frantic gesture of malevolence towards an aged man, wrapped in a large, dark, woollen cloak, who was vainly endeavouring to conceal himself in the crowd.

A cry of horror and indignation burst from all sides: all shrunk back from the profane object indicated; leaving a s.p.a.ce around him. A deadly paleness, the effect of amazement and consternation, pa.s.sed over the face of Raymond; for, in the person of the accused, he recognised--his father!

Raymond almost instantly, however, recovers from the effect of this terrific announcement; and springing forward, and placing himself before the old man, cried out, in a loud and firm voice:

"'He who dares make such an a.s.sertion has lied!'

"'How! exclaimed Odon d'Artignelouve; 'dost thou give me the lie? Here is my gage of battle: let him take it up who will.' And, throwing his glove into the midst of the a.s.sembly, he continued:

"'I, Odon d'Artiguelouve, to all gentlemen present and to come--knights and n.o.bles--offer to maintain my words, with sword, or battle-axe, or lance, against all who shall have the boldness to deny that yonder old man, wrapped in a dark mantle, now before us, has dared to trample under foot our laws and ordinances, and sully by his impure presence our n.o.ble a.s.sembly; for he is no other than a vile Cagot, leprous and infected, belonging to the Cagoterie of Lurbe, hid, like a nest of snakes, amongst the rocks of Mount Binet, at the entrance of the Vallee d'Aspe.'"

A shudder of horror ran through the crowd as these words were uttered.

"'And I,' cried the knight, in a voice of furious indignation--'I, Raymond, the adopted son of Augerot de Domezain,--whose real name will, I trust, one day appear,--in virtue of my privileges, my t.i.tle, and my oath, protest, in defiance of thy rank, thy strength, and thy youth; in despite of thy sword, thy lance, and thy battle-axe,--I protest, in the face of G.o.d and the men who hear me, that, from the crown of thy head to the sole of thy foot, thou art an infamous and perjured impostor,--a traitor as black as h.e.l.l can make thee,--and that thou hast lied in thy throat. My arm and my sword are ready to engrave upon thy body, in characters of blood, the truth of my words!'"

The tone of energetic conviction with which Raymond spoke, his bold and martial bearing, the flash of his eye, and the indignant rage of his manner, impressed his hearers as they listened, and a murmur of applause followed his exclamation. Marie, pale as death, sat like a statue of marble; her hands clasped, her breath suspended, and her eyes fixed wildly on the trembling old man,--the object of all attention.

Odon was about to reply, when Count Gaston, with a heightened colour and an excited air, rose and spoke:

"We are," he said, "deeply displeased that such a discussion should have disturbed the peace of our a.s.sembly. You are not ignorant, Sir Raymond, that our laws accord to all men of Bearn the right of combat against the aggressor who has outraged him by the injurious epithets of false and traitor. And you, Sir Odon, remember that here, as in the _Cour Majour_, we owe justice to all,--to the weak as well as the strong; and that, before judgment, proof is necessary."

The old man is now required by Odon to stand forth and answer in full a.s.sembly whether he is not called Guilhem, whether he is not a Cagot, and whether he is not a member of the Cagoterie of Lurbe.

A profound silence ensues in the a.s.sembly; all, in breathless anxiety, await the answer of the accused, who stands hesitating and apparently unable to utter a word; at length, with an effort, and in a hoa.r.s.e and trembling voice, he falters from beneath the thick hood which he had drawn over his face, "Heaven has so decreed it--Alas! it is a fatal truth!" Now comes the triumph of the rival of the unfortunate knight; he starts up, wild and fierce, exultation trembling on his envenomed tongue:

"Bearnais!" cried he; "listen to me! If this man, who has dared to call me false and traitor, were a knight, as he calls himself, or a n.o.ble, like me, he would, by our laws, be ent.i.tled to claim the right of duel, to which he had provoked me, on foot or on horseback, armed at all points; or, were he a man belonging to the people, I being a gentleman, he could oppose me with a shield and a club; or were we both equally peasants, we could fight, each armed according to our rank. But, were I ten times the aggressor, and he the offended party, all combat between him and me is impossible, for he is beneath the knight, the n.o.ble, the citizen, the serf, the labourer; beneath the lowest degree in the scale of humanity--beneath the beasts themselves; he is a vile Gesitain, a dog of a leper, an infamous and degraded Cagot, and yonder stands his father!"

Horror takes possession of all--knight, lady, prince, and people. In vain the unfortunate Guilhem, throwing back his cowl and imploring to be heard, proclaims aloud that he is not the father of the n.o.ble knight; that Raymond does not belong to their unhappy race, and calls the Redeemer to witness that he speaks the truth; he is treated with scorn and contempt, and the popular fury rises at the disavowal.

Gaston Phoebus commands silence, and calls upon the knight to disprove the fact alleged, and confirm the hope he entertains; but Raymond has no words but these:

"No, n.o.ble Prince; I have no power to speak other than the truth; and were the torments I endure ten times heavier, I have only to confess--this is, indeed, my father."

Marie, as he spoke, uttered a wild shriek, and fell senseless to the ground; a yell burst from the crowd, joy and triumph glowed on the countenances of Odon and his mother, and Gaston Phoebus cast himself back in his seat, and covered his face with his robe.