CHAPTER XIV.

How, being given letters to _Duke William_ by the Abbots of _St. Michael_ and of _Bec_, I set out for _Coutances_, and of what befell me on my way.

"Sit down and take thy pen, good Nigel," said the abbot next morning; "this Lanfranc shall dictate thee thine epistle."

I sat down by the abbot's writing-horn, and wrote somewhat as follows, while the two great men put their wise heads together. After customary salutation, the letter ran--

"We send the bearer with news of grave moment to thee and thy rule. A Sarrasin pirate even now lords it in Guernsey, and kills very many of thy lieges. Moreover, his force grows daily to a greater height. There hath joined him Maugher, once archbishop.

"Thou wilt know how best to protect thine honour. The bearer hath for his years done wondrous chivalrously in this enterprise. Delay not, duke, to hear him."

Such was the letter that I bore, signed with the names of the two abbots. Now I had great joy in having the great Lanfranc's countenance, for all men knew William loved him, since, after his first disgrace for his sharp rebuke of William's marriage, he met him fearlessly, and with cool laughter and wise words brought him into still closer union than ever he had been before. So I knew my letter would have weight.

Now it was decided I was to ride with all speed to Coutances, near fifty miles away, and there to inquire more certainly about William's whereabouts.

My uncle chose for me a fresh horse from the abbot's stable, that he swore would bear me nobly, and seeing me suitably equipped, led me once more to the abbot, who blessed me ere I went forth.

"Child," said he, having given me his blessing, "thou hast by thy spirit made clearer to me the legend of this holy house. A fair child, men say, went with Aubert of old to lay these foundations in the rock, and wherever he trod,--that child of olden days,--the hard rock crumbled for the great bases to be laid. So, beneath thy tread, young though thou art in years, doth difficulty crumble to nothing, for it is the work of God--the saving of our brethren--thou art called to, and wilt perform!"

"What have I done, holy father," I replied, "that any knightly youth would not be proud to do?"

With all fit instructions as to where I was to go at Coutances, and the priests that would there send me onwards to the duke, I jumped upon my steed, and in all fair array, as befitted a youth of high rank, alone I left St Michael de Tombelaine, and leaving Pontorson behind me, and having the blue water all the way on my left, reached Avranches by noon.

Now, though my horse showed signs of weariness, I hoped to get forward another good stage before evening. Therefore after a short rest I pressed forward, and I soon came into a country that was well tilled, and the land was divided by hedges like our lanes in England. I was ill pleased indeed, when well forward on these desolate roads, to hear the same trot behind me that I heard before on my road from St. Malo.

It made me press on my tired steed to a canter, and the steed behind me cantered too. I thought, "I will stay, and let the knave pass," but as I stayed in the way, the horseman that followed stayed as well. We had ridden some hour and a half like this, and the road ran now through a wood that seemed dark and cheerless to the sight, yet I was forced to press on. I had not progressed far, when I heard a whistle behind me, and lo! I saw, as it were, in answer two great knights come spurring towards me from the trees ahead.

Then I feared greatly, and I knew there was an evil trap set to catch me on my way, and I ground my teeth to think that here seemed fresh delays to the work I had in hand.

The three came at me now with drawn swords.

I drew my little poniard, since I knew I must fight.

"Yield thyself up!" said one great villain. "It is useless to resist!"

My answer was an attempt to drive my horse forward, but the frightened brute refused my urging. I lunged at the first with my blade, but with a sweep of his own he drave it out of my hand.

"How now, sir page," said he, "must we teach you manners?"

I was nigh weeping for shame that he should so best me, yet I had no other weapon, and they were three men, and I but a lad.

They dismounted, and pulled me from my horse, and holding me flat on the ground with his knee, one of them began to rifle me. "The abbot's letter," I thought, and in a moment I gave tongue.

"Look you, good sirs," I said, "take my money. You are welcome to it, but let me go forward on my road."

"Wherefore such haste?" said one. "Thy money we will take, and thy sorrel hack, but there is a letter still on thee we require to be found yet!"

It was plain they were no highwaymen, but in some sort the Sarrasin's men, even here in Normandy, and a great terror took me of his power. In a frenzy I escaped from them a moment, and stood clutching madly my breast, where the letter lay hid.

They made a rush for me together, and though like a young tiger I struggled with scratch and bite and kick, they had me down again.

"Alas!" I thought, "die then of famine, poor brethren of the Vale."

One of them thrust his hand under my riding-tunic, and had the parchment in his very palm. And all seemed over with me and my mission, when suddenly I heard the sound of horses' hoofs coming nearer, and I shrieked out "Help!" My enemy stuffed his cap into my throat to stop my cries.

But they had been heard, and they came closer at a gallop. "More villains," I thought, "to make certain of my capture."

But it was no villain's voice that rang out next. It was my uncle's, and with him were men-at-arms. And as he shouted my assailants left me, and, jumping into their saddles, fled into the wood.

So I was free, and my letter safe, and my uncle raised me up, and most tenderly handled me to find my injuries.

"Curse the day," he said, "that I sent thee forth alone! How did I not suspect ill!"

"But how camest thou in such good hour?" I asked, still trembling.

"My heart smote me," said he, "to send thee thus alone. And, indeed, I felt a presage of ill. So I got my men-at-arms, and swore that I would be thy convoy to the duke himself."

"Uncle," said I, "these were no highwaymen."

"What then, lad?"

"They were searching me for the abbot's letter, my passport to William," I said.

"Then traitors grow like mulberries down yonder," he said, pointing back to the Marvel. "But now, if we press on, we shall reach ere nightfall the house of a good knight, where we shall lie safe till morning."

So we trotted forward, and in two hours' time we were at the gateway of the castle of the Sieur de la Haye, who received my uncle with all courtesy, and refreshed us and our steeds; and next morning we rode to Coutances.