第 68 节
作者:你妹找1      更新:2021-08-21 21:26      字数:9322
  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 last; when all hope was well…nigh dead in his
  heart; there carne one glorious July morning which brought a
  horseman bearing a letter to the Castle of Vannes; of which Nigel
  now was seneschal。  It contained but few words; short and clear as
  the call of a war…trumpet。  It was Chandos who wrote。  He needed
  his Squire at his side; for his pennon was in the breeze once
  more。  He was at Bordeaux。  The Prince was starting at once for
  Bergerac; whence he would make a great raid into France。  It would
  not end without a battle。  They had sent word of their coming; and
  the good French King had promised to be at great pains to receive
  them。  Let Nigel hasten at once。  If the army had left; then let
  him follow after with all speed。  Chandos had three other squires;
  but would very gladly see his fourth once again; for he had heard
  much of him since he parted; and nothing which he might not have
  expected to hear of his father's son。  Such was the letter which
  made the summer sun shine brighter and the blue sky seem of a
  still fairer blue upon that happy morning in Vannes。
  It is a weary way from Vannes to Bordeaux。  Coastwise ships are
  hard to find; and winds blow north when all brave hearts would
  fain be speeding south。  A full month has passed from the day when
  Nigel received his letter before he stood upon the quay…side of
  the Garonne amid the stacked barrels of Gascon wine and helped to
  lead Pommers down the gang…planks。  Not Aylward himself had a
  worse opinion of the sea than the great yellow horse; and he
  whinnied with joy as he thrust his muzzle into his master's
  outstretched hand; and stamped his ringing hoofs upon the good
  firm cobblestones。  Beside him; slapping his tawny shoulder in
  encouragement; was the lean spare form of Back Simon who had
  remained ever under Nigel's pennon。
  But Aylward; where was he?  Alas!  two years before he and the
  whole of Knolles' company of archers had been drafted away on the
  King's service to Guienne; and since he could not wri