The Iron Trevet; or, Jocelyn the Champion: A Tale of the Jacquerie

An explosion of fury from the Jacques marked the close of these words. Sufficiently exasperated against the Sire of Nointel, they felt that the narrative of Jocelyn's family was that of the martyrdom on earth endured by Jacques Bonhomme.

"Death to the seigneur!.. Death without combat!" repeated the insurgents. "Death to him, like a wolf caught in a trap!"

"Vassal, you promised to fight with me!" cried Conrad of Nointel. "Of what use are these ancient stories?"

"Do you repudiate the acts of your ancestors? Do you repudiate your class?"

"Even with your sword at my throat I shall to the very end pronounce myself proud of belonging to the warrior class that has held you under the whip and the stick, ye miserable serfs… Even dying would I smite your faces!"

With a wafture of his hand Jocelyn restrains a fresh explosion of fury from the Jacques, and says to Adam the Devil: "Deliver the seigneur of his bonds… Once more in the course of the centuries a son of Joel and a son of Neroweg shall take each other's measure, sword in hand!"

"And may my stock again meet yours to the undoing of your own!" answered Conrad of Nointel in a hollow voice. "The elder branch of my family still occupies its domains in Auvergne … and my father's brother has sons! The race of the Nerowegs will reappear across the ages!"

"Battle!.. Battle!" said Jocelyn. "It shall be a battle to the death, without quarter or mercy… Battle!"

"And also I, brother, shall have neither pity nor mercy for that thief, the cause of all my misfortunes!" cried Mazurec, pointing at the knight of Chaumontel, and added: "Adam, untie also his hands. There is room enough here for a double combat. My brother shall have the seigneur… I shall take this thief of a knight. Give me a pitch-fork, the fork is the lance of Jacques Bonhomme."

Freed of his bonds and clad only in his shirt and hose, Gerard of Chaumontel receives from William Caillet a stick to defend himself with, and from Adam the Devil a rude push that throws him in front of Mazurec, who, protected from head to foot by the knight's own armor, holds up his three-pronged and sharp fork.

"Come up, you double thief!" Mazurec called out; "must I step forward to meet you?"

[The knight of Chaumontel, pale from fright and pursued by the cries of (these words missing due to printer's error, here translated from the French version by the etext transcriber)] the Jacques, grasps his stick with both hands and forcing a smile on his lips answers: "The heralds-at-arms have not yet given the signal."

In the meantime, Conrad of Nointel, whose arms have been unbound, stooped down to seize the sword from which Jocelyn had not yet lifted his foot.

"One moment!" cried the champion, always with his foot firmly on the sword. "Sire of Nointel, look me in the face … if you dare!"

Conrad raised his head, fastened his glistening eyes upon his adversary and asked: "What do you want?"

"Worthy Sire, I wish to goad you to the combat. I mistrust your courage. You fled like a coward at the battle of Poitiers, and a minute ago you referred to me as a vile slave fit only for the whip and the cane – "

"And I say so again!" yelled Conrad turning red and white with rage, "you vagabond!"

"Take this for the insult!" came from Jocelyn like a flash while buffeting the livid face of Conrad of Nointel. "These slaps are the goad I promised you. Even if you were more cowardly than a hare, fury will now serve you instead of courage!" Saying this Jocelyn made a leap backward, placing himself on his guard and leaving the sword on the ground free. Crazed with rage, Conrad of Nointel seized the weapon and rushed upon Jocelyn at the very moment that, armed with his stick, Gerard of Chaumontel was rapidly retreating before the approaching prongs of Mazurec's fork.

"Infamous thief!" cried the vassal pressing the knight with his fork; "I had more courage than you… I threw myself under the feet of your horse, and seized you hand to hand!"

"My Jacques!" cried out Adam the Devil seeing the knight of Chaumontel still retreating before Mazurec, "cross your scythes behind that knight of cowardice; let him fall under your iron if he tries to escape Mazurec's fork."

The Jacques followed Adam the Devil's suggestion; at the same time that Mazurec ran forward with his fork Gerard of Chaumontel perceived a formidable array of scythes rise behind him.

"Cowardly varlets! Infamous scamps! You abuse your strength!"

"And you, worthy knight," answered Adam the Devil, "did not you abuse your strength when you fought on horseback and in full armor against Mazurec half naked and with only a stick to defend himself?"

During this short dialogue, the Sire of Nointel was impetuously charging upon Jocelyn. Rendered dexterous in the handling of the sword by the practice of the tourneys, young, agile and vigorous, he aims many an adroit blow at Jocelyn, who, however, parries them all like a consummate gladiator, while pricking his adversary with the contemptuous remark. "To know how to handle a sword so well, and yet to retreat so pitifully at the battle of Poitiers! What a shame!"

With a rapid step back Jocelyn evades at that instant a dangerous thrust of Conrad of Nointel's sword, retorts with a vigorous pass, smites his adversary on the shoulder and, to his great astonishment, sees him suddenly roll on the ground, seem to stiffen his members, and then remain motionless.

"What?" observed the champion lowering his sword, "dead with so little? Beaten down so quickly?"

"Brother, look out … it probably is a ruse!" cried Mazurec, at whom Gerard of Chaumontel had finally aimed so furious a blow with his stick that it broke into splinters against the iron casque on the vassal's head. "Without the casque I would now be a dead man. Oh! that's a good practice you knights have of fighting so well armed against half naked Jacques Bonhomme!" Although somewhat dazed by the shock, Mazurec plunged his fork into the bowels of the robber knight, who fell blaspheming. Observing that Conrad still remained motionless on the ground, Mazurec repeated the warning: "Look out, brother! It is a ruse!"

And so it was. Astonished at the fall of his adversary Jocelyn was stooping over him when the Sire of Nointel suddenly rose on his haunches, seized the champion's leg with one hand, and with the other sought to stab his adversary in the flank with a dagger that he had kept concealed in his hose. Taken by surprise and pulled by a leg, Jocelyn lost his balance.

"Viper!" cried Jocelyn dropping his sword and falling upon Conrad whose hand he struggled to overpower. "I was on the look-out… I thought your death was feigned!" and wresting the dagger from Conrad's hand, Jocelyn plunged it in his adversary's breast: "Die, thou son of the Nerowegs!"

"Gerard!" muttered Conrad, dying, "I … was wrong … in violating the vassal's wife… Oh, Gloriande!"

Hardly had Jocelyn stepped aside from the corpse of the Sire of Nointel when his vassals, so often the victims of his cruelty, precipitated themselves upon the arena, and plying their forks, scythes and axes with savage fury on the still warm body of their recent tyrant, mutilated it beyond recognition. In the meantime, aided by other Jacques, Adam the Devil raised the knight of Chaumontel, who, though mortally wounded by the thrust of Mazurec's fork, was still alive, and called out: "Fetch the bag and ropes!"

A peasant brought a bag with which they had provided themselves at the castle of Chivry. The bleeding body of the knight of Chaumontel was placed within and tied fast so as to allow his cadaverous head to stick out, and the bundle was carried to the Orville bridge.

"Do you recall my prophecy," Mazurec asked the knight, with a diabolical smile; "I prophesied you would be drowned."

Gerard of Chaumontel uttered a deep moan. A superstitious terror now overpowered him. His wonted haughtiness was no more. In a fainting voice he murmured: "Oh, St. James, have pity upon me… Oh, St. James, intercede for me… with our Lord and all his saints… I am justly punished… I stole the vassal's purse… Oh, Lord, Oh, Lord, have pity upon me!"

Arrived at the Orville bridge, the peasants threw the bagged body of the knight of Chaumontel into the river amid the frantic cheers of the Jacques, who exclaimed: "May thus perish all seigneurs!"

CHAPTER VI.

ON TO CLERMONT!

Tarrying a moment on the Orville bridge, which the Jacques had left on the march to join other bands and proceed in stronger force against other seigniories, Jocelyn noticed a rider approaching at full gallop. A few minutes later he recognized the rider to be Rufin the Tankard-smasher, who soon reined in near the bridge, followed at a distance by a considerable number of insurgents.

Jumping off his horse Rufin said to Jocelyn: "I learned from the peasants coming up behind me that there was a large gathering of Jacques at this place; I thought I would find you among them and hastened hither to deliver to you a letter from Master Marcel… Great events are transpiring in Paris."

Jocelyn eagerly took the missive, and while he read it, Rufin the Tankard-smasher went on saying: "By Jupiter! The company of an honorable woman brings good luck. When I used to have Margot on my arms, I always ran up against some accident; on the other hand, nothing could have been happier than this trip of mine to Paris with Alison the Huffy, who, I fancy, is huffy only at Cupid. We arrived in Paris without accident, and Dame Marguerite received Alison with great friendship. Oh, my friend! I worship that tavern-keeper. Fie! What an improper term! No! That Hebe! And was not Hebe the Olympian tavern-keeper? Oh, if Alison would only have me for her husband, we would set up a lovely tavern, intended especially for the students of the University. The shield would be splendid. It would exhibit Greek and Latin verses appealing to the topers, such as: "Like Bacchus does – "

Jocelyn here interrupted the student, saying with much animation after he had finished Etienne Marcel's letter: "Rufin, I return with you to Paris; the provost has orders for me. Mazurec is revenged. Everywhere the Jacques are rising according to the information that reaches Marcel from the provinces. The formidable movement must now be directed and utilized. The Jacquerie must be organized. Wait for me a minute. I shall be back immediately."

Jocelyn thereupon called to Adam the Devil, Mazurec and William Caillet, who had also remained behind, took them aside and said: "Marcel calls me to his side. The Regent has withdrawn to Compiegne; he has declared Paris out of the pale of the law and is preparing to march upon the city at the head of the royal troops; they are waiting for him, and will give him a warm reception. All the communal towns, Meaux, Amiens, Laon, Beauvais, Noyons, Senlis are in arms. Everywhere the peasants are rising and the bourgeois and guild corporations are joining them. The King of Navarre is captain-general of Paris. The man deserves the nickname of 'Wicked,' nevertheless he is a powerful instrument. Marcel will break him if he deviate from the right path and refuse to bow before the popular sovereignty. The hour of Gaul's enfranchisement has sounded at last. In order to carry the work to a successful issue, the Jacquerie will have to be regulated. These scattered and dispersed bands must gather together, must discipline their forces and form an army capable of coping, first with that of the Regent, and then with the English. We must first crush the inside foe and then the foreign one."

"That is right," said Caillet, thoughtfully. "Ten scattered bands can not accomplish much; the ten together can. I am known in Beauvoisis. Our Jacques will follow me wherever I lead them. Once the seigneurs are exterminated, we shall fall upon the English, a vermin that gnaws at the little that seigneurs and their clergy leave us."

"Yesterday's butcheries have opened my appetite," cried Adam the Devil, brandishing his scythe. "We shall mow down the English to the last man. Death to all oppressors!"

"The crop will be fine if we mow together," replied Jocelyn. "Meaux, Senlis, Beauvais and Clermont are awaiting the Jacques with open arms. Their gates will be opened to the peasants. These will find there food and arms."

"Iron and bread! We need no more!" put in William Caillet. "And what is Marcel's plan?"

"These fortified cities, occupied by the Jacques and the armed bourgeoisie, will hold the Regent's troops in check in the provinces," answered Jocelyn. "The other sections of the country are to organize themselves similarly. Now, listen well to Marcel's instructions. The King of Navarre is on our side because he expects with the support of the popular party to dethrone the Regent. He occupies Clermont with his troops. Thence he is to proceed to Paris and meet the royal army under the walls of the city. He needs reinforcements. Marcel mistrusts him. Now, then, you are to gather all the bands of Jacques into a body and proceed to Clermont at the head of eight thousand men. You can then join Charles the Wicked without fear, although he is never to be trusted. But as his own forces barely number two thousand foot soldiers and five hundred horsemen, in case of treason they would be crushed by the Jacques, who would out-number them four to one."

"Agreed," answered William Caillet, after carefully listening to the champion, "and from Clermont are we to march straight to Paris?"

"Upon your arrival at Clermont you will receive further instructions from Marcel. To overpower the nobility, dethrone the Regent and chase the foreigners from our soil – that is the provost's programme. When the campaign shall be over, the hour of Jacques Bonhomme's enfranchisement will have come. Delivered from the tyranny of the seigneurs and the pillaging of the English, free, happy and at peace, the peasant will then be able to enjoy the fruits of his arduous labors and will be able to taste without molestation the sweet pleasures of the hearth… Yes, you William Caillet, you Adam the Devil, you Mazurec, and so many others who have been wounded in your tenderest feelings, you will have been the last martyrs of the seigneurs and clergy, you will be the liberators of your kind."

"Jocelyn, whatever may now happen, vanquisher or vanquished, I can die in peace. My daughter is revenged!" said William Caillet. "I promise to lead more than ten thousand men to the walls of Clermont. The blood of the seigneurs and their priests who have outraged us, the conflagrations of their castles and churches, from which they issued to oppress us, will mark the route of the Jacques."

"Marcel recalls me to Paris; I shall return to him; but you will meet me at Clermont, where I shall convey to you further instructions." And pressing Mazurec to his heart: "Adieu, my brother, my poor brother! We shall soon meet again. William, I leave him with you. Watch over the unfortunate lad!"

"I love him as I did my daughter! She will be the topic of our conversation. And we shall fight like men who no longer care for life."

After this exchange of adieus, Jocelyn turned back to Paris with Rufin the Tankard-smasher on the crupper of his horse.

CHAPTER VII.

CLERMONT

Charles the Wicked, King of Navarre, occupied at Clermont, in the province of Beauvoisis, the castle of the count of the place – a vast edifice one of whose towers dominated the square called the "Suburb." The first floor of the donjon, lighted by a long ogive window, formed a large circular hall. There, near a table, sat Charles the Wicked. It was early morning. The prince asked one of his equerries:

"Has the scaffold been erected?"

"Yes, Sire, you can see it from this window. It is just as you ordered it."

"What face do the bourgeois make?"

"They are in consternation; all the shops are closed; the streets are deserted."

"And the masses?.. the artisans… Are they heard to murmur?"

"Sire, after yesterday's massacre, there are none more of the poorer class to be seen … neither on the streets nor the squares… The people are scarce."

"But some must still be left."

"Those that are left are in consternation and stupor like the bourgeois."

"All the same, let my Navarrians keep sharp watch at the gates of the town, on the ramparts and on the streets. Let them kill on the spot any bourgeois, peasant or artisan who dares this morning to put his nose outside of his house."

"The order has been given, Sire. It will be carried out."

"And the chiefs of those accursed Jacques?"

"They remain impassive, Sire!"

"Blood of Christ! They will become livelier, and that soon… Has a trevet been procured. Let the executioner hold himself ready."

"Yes, Sire. Everything is prepared according to your orders."

"Let everything be ready at the stroke of seven."

"All shall be ready, Sire."

Charles the Wicked reflected a moment, and then resumed, taking up an enameled medallion with his monogram that lay near him on the table: "Did the man arrive who was arrested at the gates last night, and who sent me this medallion?"

"Yes, Sire. He has just been brought in unarmed and pinioned, as you ordered. He is kept under watch in the lower hall. What is your pleasure?"

"Let him be brought up."

The equerry stepped out. Charles the Wicked rose, and approached the window that opened upon the square where the scaffold was erected. After throwing it partly open so as to be able to look out, he reclosed it and returned to his seat near the table, his lips contracted with a sinister smile. He had barely sat down again when the equerry returned preceding the archers in the middle of whom walked Jocelyn the Champion with his hands bound behind his back and his face inflamed with anger. The prince made a sign to the equerry, who thereupon withdrew with the Navarrians, leaving Charles the Wicked and Jocelyn alone, the latter, however, still pinioned.

"Sire, I am the victim either of a mistake or of unworthy treason!" cried Jocelyn. "For the sake of your honor, I hope it is a mistake… Order me to be unbound."

"There is no mistake in the case."

"Then it is treason! To disarm me! To pinion me!.. Me, the carrier of the medallion that I sent to you together with a letter that I brought to you from Master Marcel! That is treason, Sire! Disgraceful felony!"

"There is in all this neither mistake nor felony. A truce with your imprudent words!"

"What else is it?"

"A simple measure of prudence," coolly answered Charles the Wicked; "you signed the letter 'Jocelyn the Champion'… Is that your name and profession?'

"Yes, Sire; I am a defender of the oppressed."

"Did Marcel send you to me?"

"I told you so, and proved it by forwarding the medallion. What do you want of me? Ask; I shall answer."

"What is the purpose of your message?"

"You shall know it when you will have set me free of my bonds."

"The bonds do not tie your tongue … seems to me! You can answer very well as you are."

"You ignore my character of ambassador! I have come in that capacity."

"That's subtle … but be careful; the minutes are precious; your message is certainly important… Its success may be endangered by a prolonged silence."

"Sire, I came to you, if not as a friend, still as an ally. You treat me like an enemy. Master Marcel will be thankful for my reserve – "

"Very well," said Charles the Wicked, ringing a bell. The call was forthwith answered by the equerry. "Let this man be taken outside of the town, and the gates closed after him. Do not allow him in again."

After a brief struggle with himself, Jocelyn resumed: "However outrageous be the reception you give an envoy of Marcel, I shall speak and fulfill my mission."

At another sign from the King of Navarre, the equerry stepped out again and the former said to Jocelyn: "What is your message?"

"Master Marcel charged me to say to you, Sire, that it was time to open the campaign; the Regent's army is marching upon Paris; all the vassals are up in arms; numerous troops of Jacques must be approaching Clermont to join you. Indeed, I am astonished at not having met any Jacques."

"By what gate did you enter Clermont? From what side did you cross the walls?"

"By the gate of the Paris road. It was dark when I arrived and sent you one of the archers who arrested me."

"You spoke with no soldier?"

"I was locked up alone in one of the turrets of the rampart. I could speak with nobody. I communicated only with your archers."

"Proceed … with your message."

"Marcel wishes to know what your plan of campaign will be when your troops have been reinforced by eight or ten thousand Jacques, who, according to our information, may any time arrive in Clermont."

"We shall speak about that presently… First tell me what the public sentiment is in Paris. Are more rebellions feared?"

"The adversaries of Marcel and partisans of the Regent are very active. They seek to mislead the population by imputing to the revolt all the ills that the city suffers from. Royal troops seized Etamps and Corbeil to prevent the arrival of grains in Paris and starve out the city. Marcel took the field with the bourgeois militia, and after a murderous conflict he threw the royalists back and secured the subsistence of Paris. But the provost's adversaries are redoubling their underhand manoeuvres with a view to bring a portion of the bourgeoisie back to the Regent. The people, more accustomed to privations, are easily resigned; full of hope in the future that is to bring them deliverance, they weaken neither in energy nor in devotion to Marcel, especially since the tidings of the revolts of the Jacques reached Paris. The vassals of the whole valley of Montmorency are now in revolt …"; but suddenly breaking off, Jocelyn said: "Sire, order these bonds to be removed from my hands; they are a disgrace to me and to you… You treat me like a prisoner!"

"You were saying that the Regent's partisans are active? Is not Maillart among the leaders in that movement?"

"No … at least not openly. The avowed leaders of the court party are all nobles; among them is the knight of Charny and the knight James of Pontoise. Prompt and resolute action is necessary. Your chances of reigning over Gaul are excellent if you come to the help of the Parisians, take the field against the forces of the Regent, and utilize, as Master Marcel suggests, the powerful aid offered by the Jacquerie. Next to the clergy and the seigneurs, there are no more implacable enemies of the peasants than the English. Marcel's purpose in encouraging the insurrections of the Jacques and organizing their bands is above all to hurl them in mass against the English in the name of the country that the invaders are ravaging with their predatory bands, and to drive them from our soil. Triumph is assured if the present enthusiasm of the Jacques is utilized by turning it into that sacred channel towards the safety and deliverance of the country. That is the reason, Sire, why Master Marcel has been seeking to effect the junction of the Jacques with the forces that you command."

"Our friend Marcel," Charles the Wicked observed caustically, "made an excellent choice of allies for me in the revolted peasants!" saying which he rang the bell. The equerry entered and left after the prince had whispered a few words in his ear.

"Sire," again remonstrated Jocelyn, "your manners are mysterious. Are you hatching some other plot against me? You may be frank; I am in your power."

"There is no plot hatching," coolly answered Charles the Wicked, shrugging his shoulders. "I am merely taking precautions to insure the quiet and calmness of our interview as becomes people like ourselves."

"Sire, have I perchance failed in calmness and quiet? My language is self-possessed."

"So far … you are right … but presently your moderation may be put to a severe test … my precautions are wise – "

The entrance of two other robust equerries in the company of the prince's confidante interrupted his last words, and without Jocelyn, whose hands were tied, being able to offer any effective resistance, he was thrown on the floor, where, however, despite his being pinioned, he resented the treatment with Herculean though vain efforts to disengage himself from his assailants.

"By God! You are a Hercules … what athletic vigor you display! Am I wrong if I take precautions against the consequences of our further interview, despite your assurances of calmness and moderation?"