Chapter 2 Chapter 2 Wanderers

The world is like an oyster that I will split with my sword. Pistor's Banner It was a pleasant summer morning, the sun was not yet burning, and the dew kept the air cool and fragrant.A young man from the northeast was heading towards Plessy.Le.Walk to the ferry of a small river near the Royal Palace of Tours.The creek, or rather the brook, is a tributary of the Cher.The spooky and sprawling battlements of the palace rose against the background, surrounded by vast forests.In the forest there was an elegant hunting ground or royal garden, separated by a wall called the Praxidia in medieval Latin.Many villages in France are named Plessy, from which Gai originated.The castle and the village we have mentioned in particular, for the sake of distinction, are called Plessy.Le.Tours.It was built about two miles south-west of the ancient capital of the beautiful city of Touraine, whose fertile plain has always been called the Garden of France.

The traveler is walking towards the bank of the stream.On the opposite bank were two men who seemed to be talking deeply, and seemed to be watching his movements from time to time, because they were on a much higher ground and could see him from a long distance. The young traveler is about nineteen, or between nineteen and twenty.He has a pleasing face and figure, but does not belong to the country in which he is currently staying.His short gray cloak and trousers were more Flemish than French, and his handsome blue cap, with a sprig of holly and an eagle's feather, was recognizably a Scottish headdress.He was immaculately dressed and well dressed, with the solicitude of a young man conscious of his own good looks.

He is carrying a rucksack, which seems to contain some necessities; in his left hand he wears a falconry glove, but does not carry an eagle, and in his right hand he holds a solid hunting club.Over his left shoulder hung an embroidered shawl, from which was tied the little red velvet bag which honorable fowlers keep for eagle food and other supplies of the envied game.Intersecting it is another shoulder strap from which hangs a hunting knife.He wore semi-finished buckskin boots instead of ordinary leather boots that people wore at that time. Although his body is not yet fully developed, he is tall and active.The lightness of his walk told him that hiking was a pleasure rather than a pain.His complexion is fair, although it has been scorched by the exotic sun.It's just a slightly darker shade of tan from constant exposure to the wild Scottish air.

His features, though not quite regular, were frank, cheerful, and agreeable.Maybe it was his energy that made him smile a little bit, which made him often show his neat, ivory-clean teeth.His light blue eyes had an expression of merriment in response, casting a proper glance on everything he encountered, expressing good humor, lightheartedness, and firm determination. His manner appealed to everyone, including the few travelers who frequented that troubled world.The itinerant spearman, half soldier, half bandit, eyed the young man as if weighing the prospect of loot against the possibility of a desperate resistance, the latter being more likely in the traveler's fearless gaze. At that time, he changed his sinister intentions and said unhappily: Hello, buddy.The young Scot replied in an equally martial, but less sullen tone.The paternal blessing of the wandering pilgrim or the begging dervish answered his respectful greeting.After the dark-eyed peasant girl walked past him, she looked back at him after many steps and greeted each other with a smile.In short, his whole appearance possessed an attractiveness which it was difficult to escape from being stared at, and which was derived from fearless frankness and good-nature, as well as from the vigor of his countenance, his handsome features, and his fine figure.His whole demeanour, too, seemed to speak of a man who had just entered the stage of life, fearless of the evils which beset it, and who had few pecuniary means of coping with its hardships, save a vivacious spirit and a courageous character. Those who wrestle with difficulty.Such a character can easily arouse sympathy and affection among young people, and make old and experienced people feel love and pity.

Although the young man we have just described was separated from the garden and the castle by a small river, the two people loitering on the other side of the river had already seen him approaching.When he came down the rough bank to the water's edge with the light step of an elk going to a spring to drink, the younger said to the older: He is the Bohemian we were waiting for!If he tries to ford the crossing, he's screwed. The water is up and the crossing is impossible! Let him discover that for himself, man, said the older man, and maybe it will save a rope and puncture a prophecy.

I judge by the blue hat, said the other, because I couldn't see his face well, my lord, he shouted hello and asked if the water was deep. In this world, nothing compares to experience.Another replied, let him try. At this time, since the young man did not get any hint that he could not cross the river, he took the other party's silence as tacit consent. After a short pause, he took off his half boots and walked into the creek without hesitation.Now the older man called his attention, and lowered his voice to his companion, "My God, you've made another mistake, it's not that bohemian rapper."

But the warning to young people is too late.Either he didn't hear, or he was already in the deep water, and it was too late to receive advice.The stream was deep and swift, and if people had not been as quick and accustomed to water as he was, they would surely have died. Saint Anne!He's a nice lad.Said the elder, run, man, and help him if you can, and make up for your fault.He's one of your kind, and if the old adage is true, the water won't drown him. In truth, the young traveler swam so vigorously, and fought the waves so well, that, in spite of the current, he was carried only a little further from his usual landing.

At this time, the young man rushed to the river to help him, while the old man followed behind him with steady and slow steps, talking to himself as he walked: I know that the water will never drown the young man. He's ashore, grabbing his stick!If I didn't walk faster, he'd beat my chap, and to my chap, it was the only good thing he ever did or was going to do in his life. It was not unreasonable to predict the outcome of the matter in this way, for the well-built Scot had already lashed out at the young man who had hurried to his aid: impertinent dog!Why didn't you answer when I yelled to see if I could try to cross the river?Just let the demons haunt me, but next time I will teach you to show due respect to strangers!

As he spoke, he swung his stick in a swaggering manner.The stick is called the windmill paddle because the martial artist holds the stick in the center and swings the ends in all directions like the blades of the windmill are turning.His adversary, seeing himself so threatened, gripped his sword-hilt, for he was a man who on all occasions preferred deeds to words.But his more thoughtful companion stepped up, ordered him to restrain himself, and then, turning to the young man, rebuked him for his recklessness in plunging headfirst into the swollen ferry and his reckless running with The people who came to help him made a fuss.

The young man dropped his arms when he heard that he had been so reprimanded by a respectable-looking old man, and said he would be sorry if he had been unjust to them.and the fact that they seemed to him, by failing to warn him in time, to risk his life on purpose; neither an honest man nor a good Christian could do such a thing; It should not be so. Good boy, said the elder, you look like a stranger from your accent and complexion.You should think that dialects are easy for you to speak, but difficult for us to understand. Well, old man, replied the young man, I don't care much about the smothering I've had.Although you are partly responsible for this, I am more than happy to forgive you as long as you can take me to a place where I can dry my clothes.This is the only outfit I have, and I have to keep it somewhat presentable.

My boy, what do you take us for?replied the older stranger. Needless to say, I regard you as well-to-do citizens.Come on, said the young man, your lord may be a loan broker or a grain merchant, and this man may be a butcher or a stockman. You are a rare guess.The elder smiled and said, my business is indeed to handle as much money as possible, and my guy's business is a bit like a butcher.As for finding you a place to dry your clothes, we'll do it for you.But first I must know who you are and where you are going, for in this world the roads are filled with travelers on foot and on horseback who have everything in their heads but honesty and the fear of God. Again the young man cast a keen, piercing glance at the speaker and his silent companion, as if to doubt whether, on their part, they were worthy of the confidence they demanded.The result of the observation is this The older and more prominent of the two, in dress and appearance, seemed to be a contemporary merchant or shopkeeper.His doublet, trousers, and cloak were dark, but so worn that the keen Scot thought that the wearer was either rich or poor, probably the former.The style of this kind of tight jacket was not considered appropriate among the gentlemen and even the high-class citizens at that time.At that time, high-class citizens generally wore loose robes that reached below their knees. The man's facial expression was both intriguing and intimidating.His strong features, sunken cheekbones, sunken eye sockets, shrewd and humorous demeanor suited the young adventurer quite well.But there was something majestic and sinister about the eyes sunken beneath their heavy black brows.Perhaps the fur hat, pressed low on the forehead, added some shadows over the eyes to intensify the effect.How to coordinate his humble appearance in other aspects with his arrogant appearance, the strange young man must feel very embarrassed.Especially his hat.Any decent man would wear a gold or silver brooch on his hat, but his hat was decorated with that cheap lead Madonna brought from Loreto by the poorer class of pilgrims. . His companion was a stout, medium-sized man, more than ten years his junior, with a face habitually looking down, and a very dark sneer which occasionally succumbed to a certain smile; And unless he was answering a lingo with an older stranger, he wasn't smiling at all, nor could he be seen producing any.The man was armed with a sword and a dagger; and beneath his plain coat the Scot saw that he concealed a suit of elastic chain mail.Since those who were of commoner origin, but who were called to war with equal frequency in those troubled times, also wore armor of this kind, it confirmed the young man's conjecture that the man was a butcher, a stockman, or a The man called to fight some battles. The young stranger draws at a glance the conclusions that take us a while to draw.After a moment's pause, he replied: I don't know the name of the person I'm honored to talk to. He bowed slightly and saluted, but I don't care if anyone knows that I'm a young officer from Scotland. To seek happiness in France or elsewhere, according to our custom. Heck, it's a brave custom.Said the older stranger, you are a handsome young man just about to make your way among men or women.what do you think?I'm a businessman and I need a young man to help me with my business.I suppose you are too high up to help with such mechanical toil? Dear sir, said the young man, if your proposal is serious and I doubt it, then I should thank you, and thank you for that.But I'm afraid I'm not at all fit to serve you. Hey!The elder said, I can guarantee that you must be better at pulling a big bow than billing; you are better at wielding a big knife instead of using a pen haha! My lord, answered the young Scot, I am a hillman, and therefore an archer, as we say.But besides that, I was in a monastery, where good priests taught me to read and write, and even translate. Oh, that is beautiful, said the merchant, by Our Lady of Embrun, boy, you are a prodigy! Good lord, rejoice, the young man is displeased with the humor of this new stranger, I have to dry my clothes, and I can't just stand here and let it drip and answer questions. Hearing what he said, the older man laughed even louder.oops!As the saying goes, be as proud as a Scotchman, lad.You are from a country that I respect very much.I respect Scotland because I did business there earlier and the Scots are poor honest folk.If you'll go into the village with us, I'll compensate you for your drenching with a glass of sack and a warm breakfast.But, my God!Why are you wearing hunter gloves on your hands?Don't you know that falconry is not allowed on the royal hunting grounds? I've been taught a lesson by one of the bastard rangers of the Duke of Burgundy.The young man replied, I just sent the eagle, which I brought from Scotland, which I hoped would make me noticeable, to a bluebird that fell near Peron, and the rascal shot him with an arrow. Dead my eagle. what do you do thenasked the merchant. Beat him up, said the lad, waving his club, as hard as a Christian can beat another Christian, as hard as he can be. I don't want his life to spare. Don't you know, said the townsman, that if you should fall into the duke's hands, he'd hang you up like a chestnut? Yes, I hear he is as quick and decisive in doing such things as the King of France.Fortunately, however, this happened near Peron, and I jumped across the border and laughed at him.If he wasn't so rash, I might find a job with him. If the truce were to be broken, he would regret losing such a knight as you.said the merchant, giving his companion a wink.This gloomy smile flashed across the man's face, just like a shooting star that disappears in an instant adds a ray of life to the winter night sky, adding a little life to this face. The young Scot stopped abruptly, pulled his cap over his right eyebrow, and said with the firmness of one who would not be mocked: Attention, my lords, especially you, who are older and more Should be smarter.With all due respect, you will find that it is not so safe to make fun of me.I don't really like the tone of your conversation.I can joke with anyone, and I can accept the reprimand of the elders.If I knew that I deserved a reprimand, I would also say: Thank you, sir.But I don't like being teased like a kid.God knows, if you guys get mad at me, I think I'd be enough to beat you both up by myself. Seeing the young man's statement, the older man seemed to be unable to breathe out of laughter.His companion's hand quietly moved to the hilt.The young man's eyes were quick and his hands were quick, and he hit him on the wrist so hard that he couldn't hold the hilt of his sword.And this move only made his companion more delighted.Stop, stop, he cried, most valiant Scotchman, stop even for the sake of your dear country.Dude, put away your intimidation too.oops!Let's make a fair deal, you get soaked by the river and you hit him so nicely and cleanly, so even out.Listen, young friend, he said in a commanding tone.No matter how capable the young man is, this tone can't help calming him down and admiring him.You stop using force.I'm not the right match for you, and my buddy, you can tell, is sick of it too.You'd better give us your name. I can politely answer a polite question.said the young man, I would pay due respect to your advanced age, if you would not make me impatient with your mockery.Ever since I came to France and Flanders, people have somehow called me the prodigal with the velvet bag because of this falconry bag I have slung around my waist.But my real name at home was Quentin.Da Wilt. Dar Wilt!Was it a gentleman's name, said the interlocutor? The name of our family has been passed down fifteen generations, said the young man, and it makes me very reluctant to pursue any career other than that of the soldier. A true Scot!Hot-blooded, reserved and conceited, besides, I can guarantee that he must be short of money.Well, man, he said to his companions, you go ahead and tell them to prepare some breakfast at the Mulberry Grove Inn.The young man will live up to this early meal as a hungry mouse lives up to a housewife's cheese.As for the bohemian you put your ears out and listen His companion returned a sullen, knowing sneer, and set off at a brisk pace.The older man continued to chat with Davelt: You and I will walk without haste, and we can have a mass in St. Hubert's church as we walk through the forest, because we are thinking about our spiritual needs. It is not good to think of the needs of the flesh before. Darwilt, being a good Catholic, had nothing to object to the suggestion, though perhaps he'd rather dry his clothes and fill his belly first.At this time, the companion who was used to looking down had disappeared from their sight.They continued along the road he had walked until they came to a forest of tall old trees interspersed with thick undergrowth.The forest is criss-crossed by long avenues, through which, as through a painting of vistas, small herds of elk can be seen gliding there with a sense of security fully aware of their protection. You asked me if I was a good archer, said the young Scot, if you only give me a bow and two arrows, you will have a piece of venison right away. oops!My young friend, said his companion, take care, my fellow takes special care of the deer.They were all under his protection, and he was a strict caretaker. He looked more like a butcher than a merry forester.Darwilt replied, I cannot imagine his sinister and cunning look as belonging to a man of refined gardens. Alas, my young friend, replied his companion, that my chap was not very handsome at first glance, but no one who knew him ever complained against him. Quentin.Darwilt felt something strange and unpleasant in the tone of the words.Looking at the speaker suddenly, from the smile on his lips and the blink of his sharp black eyes at the same time, he saw a certain expression, which was enough to explain that his displeasure was deeply justified.I've heard of robbers, he thought, and cunning liars and assassins. What if the guy is a murderer and this old rascal is his string?I have to beware that they won't get anything out of me but a Scottish beating. While he was thinking thus, they came to a glade in the woods.Here the tall trees are more widely spaced, and the ground is stripped of the undergrowth and covered with the softest, loveliest greenery.Because the scorching sun is shaded by the leaves, the greenery is more beautiful and soft than what is usually seen in France.In this secluded place, the trees are mainly huge nanshu and elms, clustered in clusters, like mountains made of leaves.Among these magnificent children of the earth, a low chapel could be seen in one of the widest places of the glade, near by a trickling brook.The architectural style of the church is the most primitive and simple type.Next to it was a small wooden hut for a hermit or solitary priest who stayed there periodically to perform duties on the altar.In a small shrine above the arch stands a stone statue of St. Hubert.Around the neck of the statue is a horn, and at its feet is a leash for a hound.The location of the chapel in a garden or hunting ground so rich in game makes this dedication to the sainted hunter all the more fitting. (Original Note: In the Middle Ages, every profession had its patron saint. As the profession of many and the recreation of all, the lucky and dangerous hunt was placed under the guidance of St. Hubert. God was originally the son of Beltrand, Duke of Aquitaine. When he was a layman, he was a courtier of King Pepin. He was very fond of hunting, and was often neglected to worship because of this entertainment. At one time he was engaged in this entertainment. , suddenly saw a stag with a cross tied between its horns appearing in front of him, and heard a voice threatening that if he did not repent, he would suffer eternal punishment. Since then he has become a monk and his wife has also lived in seclusion. The monastery was a nun. Later Hubert became the bishop of Maestrecht and Liege. Because of his enthusiasm for eradicating the remnants of idolatry, he was called the apostle of Ardennes and Brabant. His Descendants are said to heal anyone bitten by a mad dog.) The old man walked towards the small building for prayers followed by the young Darwilt.As they approached, a priest in monk's clothing appeared before them.He was walking from his cell to the chapel, no doubt in fulfillment of his priesthood.Darwilt bowed respectfully to the priest, as reverence to the priesthood required.His companion, on the other hand, knelt down on one foot with a deeper pious expression, accepted the blessing of the holy monk, and then followed him into the church with steps and manners that showed his most sincere repentance and humility. The interior of the chapel is decorated in a manner befitting the patron saint's occupation during his lifetime.The most precious skins of animals hunted in various countries took the place of tapestries and hangings around altars and elsewhere.Horns, crossbows, quiveres and other symbols of hunting surround the walls and are intermingled with the heads of deer, wolves and other animals regarded as hunting beasts.The whole decor has a decent woodsy feel to it.And the Mass itself, much shortened, shows itself to belong to a class of rites known as the Mass of the Hunt.This brief mass was adopted because those who were noble and powerful, when they attended this solemn ceremony, were usually impatient to begin their beloved entertainment at once. During this brief ceremony, however, Darwilt's companion seemed to display the strictest scrupulousness.Dawilt, who was not so absorbed in religious thought, could not help blaming himself now for having ever entertained degrading doubts about such a good and humble man.Instead of seeing him now as the robber's companion and accomplice, on the contrary, it was with great difficulty that he refrained from seeing him as a saintly figure. When Mass was over, they retired together from the chapel, and the elder said to his companion, "It's only a short way from here to the village, and now you can follow me with your breakfast in peace of mind." As they turned to the right, and followed a path that seemed to gradually go up, he advised his companion not to go out of the way, but to keep as close to the middle of it as possible.Dawilt couldn't help but ask why he needed to be so careful. Young man, you are now very close to the palace.The leader replied, Oops!There is a difference between walking in this place and walking on your own hills of heather.Every yard of ground here, except the one we took, is dangerous and almost impassable, for it is full of traps, traps, and equipped with guillotines whose sharp blades cut at limbs and feet like a Cut a hawthorn branch with a hedge-knife so clean And besides, caltrops will pierce your feet, and pits deep enough to bury you forever in the ground.You are now within the palace precincts, and we will soon be able to see the front of the castle. If I were the King of France, said the young man, I would not have to use so much brains to set up traps and traps, but to work hard so that no one dared to approach my residence with malice.As for those auspicious visitors with good intentions, the more the better. His companion looked around, and said with feigned horror: "Hush, whisper, Mr. Prodigal with the velvet bag!"I forgot to tell you that one of the great dangers of this region is that every leaf of these trees is like an ear, and it can carry every word that is spoken into the king's chamber. I don't care about that.Quentin.Darwilt replied, I have a Scotchman's tongue in my mouth, I have enough courage to dare to say what I want to say in the presence of King Louis, God bless him, as for your talking ear, if I see They grow on human heads, and I'll cut them off with my paring knife.