The Fortunes of Garin by Mary Johnston (romantic novels in english .txt) 📖

Garin felt the infecting wave. At the head of the train, dismounted, barefoot, wearing each a white garment that reached half-way between knee and ankle, bare-headed, moving a few paces before their own mounted knights, appeared the lords of Panemonde, father and son. Sir Eudes was white-headed, white-bearded, finely-featured, tall and lean. His son, Sir Aimar, seemed not older—or but little older—than Garin’s self, and what the girl had said appeared the truth.

The two came close to the lime tree. Garin, dropping his mantle, stepped into the road and fell upon[139] both knees, suppliant-wise. “Lord of Panemonde,” he cried, “let me go with you to the land over the sea!”

Sir Eudes and his son stood still, and behind them the riders checked their horses.

“What is your name, youth?” asked the first, “And whence do you come?”

“Garin Rogier,” answered Garin, “and from Limousin. I was a younger brother, and have set out to seek my fortune. Of your grace, Lord of Panemonde, place me among your men!”

Sir Eudes regarded him shrewdly. “I make my guess that you are a runaway from trouble.”

“If I am,” said Garin, “it is no trouble that will touch your honour if you take me! I fought, with good reason, one that was more powerful than I.”

The other made to shake his head and go on by. But Garin spread out his arms that he might not pass and still cried, “Take me with you, Lord of Panemonde! I have vowed to go with you across the sea, and so to serve you that you will make me a knight!”

The two gazed at him, and those behind them gazed. He kneeled, so resolved, so energized, so seeing the fate he had chosen, that as at Castel-Noir, so now, the glow within came in some fashion through the material man. From his blue-grey eyes light seemed to dart, his hair, between gold and brown, became a fine web holding light, his flesh seemed to bloom. His field of force, expanding, touched them.[140] “In the name of the Mother of God!” cried Garin; but what the man within meant was, “Because I will it, O Lord of Panemonde!”

The people on foot, too far in the rear to see more than that there was a momentary halting of the train, began a louder singing.

“Jerusalem!
Shall the paynim hold thee,
Jerusalem?
And shame our Lord Jesus,
Jerusalem?
And shame our blessed Lady, his meek Mother,
Jerusalem?
So that they say, ‘Why come not the men
To slay Mahound and cleanse our holy places?
Where are the knights, the sergeants and the footmen?’
Jerusalem!
Who takes the cross and wendeth over seas,
Jerusalem!
Will save his soul thereby, raze out his sins,
Jerusalem!”

Sir Eudes de Panemonde stared at the kneeling figure. But the young knight beside him who had stood in silence, his eyes upon the suppliant, now spoke. “Let him go with us, father! Give him to me for esquire.—There is that that draws between us.”

The father, who had a great affection for his son, looked from him to Garin and back again. “He is a youth well-looking and strong,” he said. “Perhaps he may do thee good service!”

The chant, renewed, and taken up from the roadside, came to his ear. He crossed himself.

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“Nor may I deny to our Lord Jesus one servant who will strike down the infidel! Nor to the youth himself the chance to win forgiveness of sins!” He spoke to Garin. “Stand up, Garin Rogier! Have you a horse?”

Garin rose to his feet. “No, lord. But I have money sufficient to buy one.”

Sir Aimar spoke again. “Pierre Avalon will sell him one when we come to the monastery.”

The father nodded. “Have you confessed and received absolution?”

“One week ago, lord. But when we come to the church I will find a priest. And when I am shriven I will take the cross.”

“Then,” said Sir Eudes, “it is agreed, Garin Rogier. You are my man and my son’s man. As for becoming knight, let us first see what blows you deal and what measure you keep! Now delay us no longer.”

He put himself into motion, and his son walked beside him. The mounted men followed, their horses stepping slowly. Then came the stream afoot, and Garin joined himself to this.

“Who takes the cross and wendeth over seas,
Jerusalem!
Will save his soul thereby, raze out his sins,
Jerusalem!”

Here was the calvary again, and the monk sitting beside it—here was the church, jutting out from the monastery—and people about it, and priests and[142] monks—and a loud and deep chanting—and a mounting sea of emotion. Many broke into cries, some, phrensied, fell to the earth, crying that they had a vision.

“To slay Mahound, and cleanse our sacred places!”

The mass was sung, the sacrament given those who were going to the land over sea. Garin found his priest and was shriven, then knelt with the esquires and men-at-arms and with them took the Body. Upon his breast was sewn a white cross. He had, with all who went, the indulgence. He was delivered from all the sins that through his life, until that day, he had committed.

The mass was sung. A splinter of St. Andrew’s cross—the church’s great possession—was venerated. The two de Panemondes, rising from their knees, passed from the church to the monastery, and here, in the prior’s room, their kinsmen and peers about them, they were clothed as knights again. Without, in a grey square, shaded by old trees, Garin purchased a horse from Pierre Avalon.

Sir Eudes and his son came forth in hauberk and helm. The knights for the ships and the land over the sea mounted, their followers mounted. Farewells were said. Those who were going drew into ranks. A priest blessed them. The people wept and cried out blessings. The monks raised a Latin chant. The sky was sapphire, a light wind carried to and fro the autumn leaves. Sir Eudes de Panemonde[143] and his son touched their horses with their gilded spurs. The knights followed, the esquires and men-at-arms. Behind them the voices, at first swelling louder, sank as lengthened the road between. They pressed on, and now they lost that sound and lost the church, the monastery, and the castle of Panemonde.... Now the leper by the roadside was passed, still sitting beneath the cross, tinkling his bell. In the distance was seen the town that Garin had left that morning. The company did not enter it, but turned aside into a road that ran to the southward and then east and then south again. So at last, to-morrow at sunset, they would come to the port and to the ships that would bring them to Syria.

Garin rode in a dream. He thought of Raimbaut and of Foulque, of Castel-Noir and Roche-de-Frêne, but most he thought of the Fair Goal, and tried to see her, in her court he knew not where.

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