'—but I refer my cause to God. I am quite at your service.'
'No, my Osmund!' Dame Alianora then cried. 'It means your death.'
He spread out his hands. 'That is God's affair, madame.'
'Are you not afraid?' she breathed.
'Of course I am afraid,' said Messire Heleigh, irritably.
After that he unarmed Camoys, and presently they faced each other in their tunics. So for the first time in the journey Osmund's long falchion saw daylight. He had thrown away his dagger, as Camoys had none.
The combat was sufficiently curious. Camoys raised his left hand. 'So help me God and His saints, I have upon me neither bone, stone, nor witchcraft wherethrough the power and the word of God might be diminished or the devil's power increased.'
Osmund made similar oath. 'Judge Thou this woman's cause!' he cried, likewise.
Then Gui Camoys shouted, as a herald might have done, 'Laissez les aller, laissez les aller, laissez les aller, les bons combatants!' and warily each moved toward the other.
On a sudden Osmund attacked, desperately apprehensive of his own cowardice. Camoys lightly eluded him and slashed his undefended thigh, drawing much blood. Osmund gasped. He flung away his sword, and in the instant catching Camoys under the arms, threw him to the ground. Messire Heleigh fell with his opponent, who in stumbling had lost his sword, and thus the two struggled unarmed, Osmund atop. But Camoys was the younger man, and Osmund's strength was ebbing rapidly by reason of his wound. Now Camoys' tethered horse, rearing with nervousness, tumbled his master's flat-topped helmet into the road. Osmund caught it up and with it battered Camoys in the face, dealing severe blows.
'God!' Camoys cried, his face all blood.
'Do you acknowledge my quarrel just?' said Osmund, between horrid sobs.
'What choice have I?' said Gui Camoys, very sensibly.
So Osmund rose, blind with tears and shivering. The Queen bound up their wounds as best she might, but Camoys was much dissatisfied.
'For reasons of His own, madame,' he observed, 'and doubtless for sufficient ones, God has singularly favored your cause. I am neither a fool nor a pagan to question His decision, and you two may go your way unhampered. But I have had my head broken with my own helmet, and this I consider to be a proceeding very little conducive toward enhancing my reputation. Of your courtesy, messire, I must entreat another meeting.'
Osmund shrank as from a blow. Then, with a short laugh, he conceded that this was Camoys' right, and they fixed upon the following Saturday, with Poges Copse as the rendezvous.
'I would suggest that the combat be a outrance,' Gui Camoys said, 'in consideration of the fact it was my own helmet. You must undoubtedly be aware, Messire Osmund, that such an affront is practically without any parallel.'
This, too, was agreed upon, and they bade one another farewell.
Then, after asking if they needed money, which was courteously declined, Gui Camoys rode away, and sang as he went. Osmund Heleigh remained motionless. He raised quivering hands to the sky.
'Thou hast judged!' he cried. 'Thou hast judged, O puissant Emperor of Heaven! Now pardon! Pardon us twain! Pardon for unjust stewards of Thy gifts! Thou hast loaned this woman dominion over England, all instruments to aid Thy cause, and this trust she has abused. Thou hast loaned me life and manhood, agility and wit and strength, all instruments to aid Thy cause. Talents in a napkin, O God! Repentant we cry to Thee. Pardon for unjust stewards! Pardon for the ungirt loin, for the service shirked, for all good deeds undone! Pardon and grace, O King of kings!'
Thus he prayed, while Gui Camoys sang, riding deeper into the tattered, yellowing forest. By an odd chance Camoys had lighted on that song made by Thibaut of Champagne, beginning
Sang Camoys:
Dame Alianora shivered. 'No, no!' she cried. 'Is He less pitiful than we?'
They slept that night in Ousley Meadow, and the next afternoon came safely to Bristol. You may learn elsewhere with what rejoicing the royal army welcomed the Queen's arrival, how courage quickened at sight of the generous virago. In the ebullition Messire Heleigh was submerged, and Dame Alianora saw nothing more of him that day. Friday there were counsels, requisitions, orders signed, a memorial despatched to Pope Urban, chief of all a letter (this in the Queen's hand throughout) privily conveyed to the Lady Maude de Mortemer—much sowing of a seed, in fine, that eventually flowered victory. There was, however, no sign of Osmund Heleigh, though by Dame Alianora's order he was sought.
On Saturday at seven in the morning he came to her lodging in complete armor. From the open helmet his wrinkled face, showing like a wizened nut in a shell, smiled upon her questionings.
'I go to fight Gui Camoys, madame and Queen.'
Dame Alianora wrung her hands. 'You go to your death.'
He answered: 'That is very likely. Therefore I am come to bid you farewell.'
The Queen stared at him for a while; on a sudden she broke into a curious fit of deep but tearless sobbing.
'Mon bel esper,' said Osmund Heleigh, very gently, 'what is there in all this worthy of your sorrow? The man will kill me; granted, for he is my junior by some fifteen years, and in addition a skilled swordsman. I fail to see that this is lamentable. Back to Longaville I cannot go after recent happenings; there a rope's end awaits me. Here I must in any event shortly take to the sword, since a beleaguered army has very little need of ink-pots; and shortly I must be slain in some skirmish, dug under the ribs perhaps by a greasy fellow I have never seen. I prefer a clean death at a gentleman's hands.'
'It is I who bring about your death!' she wailed. 'You gave me gallant service, and I have requited you with death!'
'Indeed the debt is on the other side. The trivial services I rendered you were such as any gentleman must render a woman in distress. Naught else have I afforded you, madame, save very anciently a Sestina. Ho, a Sestina! And in return you have given me a Sestina of fairer make—a Sestina of days, six days of life.' His eyes were fervent now.
She kissed him on either cheek. 'Farewell, my champion!'
'Ay, your champion. In the twilight of life old Osmund Heleigh rides forth to defend the quarrel of Alianora of Provence. Reign wisely, my Queen, that hereafter men may not say I was slain in an evil cause. Do not shame my maiden venture.'
'I will not shame you,' the Queen proudly said; and then, with a change of voice: 'O my Osmund! My Osmund!'
He caught her by each wrist. 'Hush!' he bade her, roughly; and stood crushing both her hands to his lips, with fierce staring. 'Wife of my King! wife of my King!' he babbled; and then flung her from him, crying, with a great lift of speech: 'I have not failed you! Praise God, I have not failed you!'
From her window she saw him ride away, a rich flush of glitter and color. In new armor with a smart emblazoned surcoat the lean pedant sat conspicuously erect, though by this the fear of death had gripped him to the marrow; and as he went he sang defiantly, taunting the weakness of his flesh.
Sang Osmund Heleigh:
