Aumur. Thibaut, although he naturally felt some stirrings of gratitude toward those rascals for their eminently satisfactory disposal of his noble kinsmen, yet was no man to cocker vice. His stern sense of duty compelled him to chasten the unmeritable varlets, and so the villagers took great dolor of their late enterprise, and before their lord had finished with them it is not too much to say that the humble and contrite heart was theirs.

II.

IN WHICH THE LORD OF AUMUR MAKES TERMS WITH HIS VASSALS.

April was yet virgin green when the vengeance of Thibaut the Cat was accomplished. And, thus sure in conquest, upon a morning of dew, under the high singing of the lark, he rode down into the village. Full of the sweet spring, he too sang as he rode; of how King Mark took to wife Yseult of the Green Island, and how guiltily she loved the strong Lord Tristan of Lyonesse, and of the evil which came of it. He had a good voice, and he sang the lay well.

"Lo, here comes our new lord," said the headman to Pierre of the Scar. "Singing! God 'a mercy! Trouble surely brews for the poor when the great sing!"

"Ay, Jacques," answered the other; "'tis the way of the Cat to purr when he hath killed. Truly our exchange hath been to our greater dolor."

No more spake these varlets until Thibaut was upon them. Then Pierre plucked off his cap and louted low. The headman grovelled, abasing himself even in the dust-for he was of soft fibre and cowardly-until, with a well-directed flick of his whip, Thibaut straightened him to the natural posture of a man.

"O Magnificence,"-began the slave. "Miserable image!" broke in the Baron. "Thou, methinks, are head

man of mine amiable and sweet-smelling subjects of Aumur. Is it so?" He punctuated with his whip.

"Even so, my lord." The headman dodged nimbly.

"Go then, fat pig; assemble them in the market-place. I would have some talk with them. Stay thou,"-this to Pierre, who had moved with the other. "Thou art a stout rascal, and I like big men. How tall art thou? Seven feet, by'r Lady!"

"Nay, my lord, an't please you, but six and half."

"Thine estate?"

"Farmer, my lord."

"Now, by Saint Paul!"-Thibaut's cold eye appraised the huge muscles of his vassal-"a man of thy thews should have been nought but a soldier. Those hands of thine would wield a pike shrewdly. I dare wager thou hadst some slight occupation in the vile treason done upon my kin. Fellow, I have suspicion of thee, and it is my way upon suspicions to stretch necks. What if I hang thee, varlet?" "Why, then, my lord, you do me a favor."

"A favor! Ha! you knaves of Aumur should be much beholden to me for the favors I have scattered in the village."

"Yes, my lord," said Pierre boldly, "we are much beholden. You will hear the praises of our villagers in the market-place. Does not the hare love the hawk?"

"Hawk!" Thibaut's voice grew hard. "Dost fear death?"

"Not I, my lord."

Here followed a pause, in which the life of Pierre balanced most finely. Then the Lord of Aumur slapped his thigh. "A man," he cried, "a man. "Twere pity to hang thee. But bethink thee well, now-dost fear me?" "Not I, my lord."

Thibaut laid his whip on the broad shoulders of his vassal. "Oh, man,"

he said, "thou wert near to it. Hadst said 'I fear,' thou wouldst have hung surely. How camest thou by yon scar upon thy poll?"

"Fighting for the Cat who is dead, my lord. And I have other scars upon my back from his claws."

"For which thou hast requited him. Nay-speak not; I have no mind to boil thee. For, mark thou, I, the Cat that lives, like spirit in my rats when I have a mind to play. But I may Ideal in devices with thee which may break that spirit. Well, of that hereafter. Get thee now before me unto the market-place, and hear my words to Aumur's rebels. Go."

Thibaut, riding amongst the shouting villagers, smiled most amiably upon them. For their cries spake of the love in their hearts, even as Pierre had predicted. "Vive le Chat!" He knew they wished him with his uncle. "Le bel Thibaut!" Oh! 'twas the very blindness of love; he himself had no illusions in regard to his beauty. "Le fort Chat!" Aha! they had him there: did not their backs even now smart from his swingeing? Still smiling, he held up his hand. They were silent. Still smiling, he surveyed them.

"Dogs and traitors," he began pleasantly. "Here am I, but one. Ye are many will ye not hack me to pieces as most bloodily and foully ye did my kin? Or has, perchance, the claw of the Cat brought ye truly to right clean mind again? I have boiled, I have broken, I have hung. And some slight tale there was of broken crowns upon my first coming among ye. Still, some have gone unpunished that might well die, for sure I am that 'twould take more than twenty or thirty of ye to have so belled the old Cat. But let that pass. "Hark now, and mark me well. Ι am a man of method, I. I do not take my dues as it pleases me, out of right season. I love order, I adore regular

ity." His eye caught Pierre's, and he smiled affably. "Does not my Lord Bishop ever take his tenth? Why should my portion be less fixed than his? If it be known unto ye what exact return ye win for your labor, ye will work with lighter hearts than should the tax-gatherer be ever in the village crying 'give-give.' Is it not so?"

The poor rascals cried that it was So. Their praises broke forth again, heartfelt this time. One-tenth, for so they understood their lord, was, in truth, an easy tax. Had it not been a frequent habit of the old Lord Thibaut to take half? This with the Church tithe had left them but twofifths of their meagre earnings upon which to live and give thanks to the infinite mercy of God in allowing them so much. Again Thibaut held up his hand.

"My good and loving vassals," he purred, "ye seem not to have taken me. What is this talk among ye of one-tenth? I should have made it clear that, though truly my portion shall be as fixed as that of Holy Church, yet in punishment of your heinous faults-which may God forgive, as I do I shall be compelled to ask but a poor half of your crops, be they wheat or root. And your headman shall make valuation of your lands, and what they may be supposed to yield. Upon pain of torture shall he make true reckoning. And upon pain of whipping ye shall see to't that the lands under your care shall bring forth to their full. This is my will. See that it be obeyed." He ceased.

There was a dead silence. Was this the way to receive his benignant conditions? He frowned, much displeased and hurt at this lack of cordiality. "Why, ungrateful dogs," he roared, "doth your love grudge your dear lord's scant living? Cheer as ye did when I first came into the market

place. Cheer, ye knaves, or each tenth man amongst ye hangs."

Thus reminded of ingratitude, their long-pent love and admiration scared shrewdly the rooks in the elms beyond the river. This was popularity indeed. Thibaut's emotion was beautiful to witness. He bowed and smiled upon

the poor rogues as they gave tongue to their pious wishes for his immortality, to their praises of his kindness, his beauty, his valor, and his wisdom. Then he turned his steed-in the act of trampling down a child-and left them to their joyance.

Far up on the castle heights the villagers heard, as their lord rode, the "Lai de Tristan":

Yseult ma drue, Yseult ma mie,

En vous ma mort, en vous ma vie: Bele amie, si est de nous,

Ne vous sans moi, ne je sans vous.

Thus carolled Thibaut of Aumur in very lightness of heart and the benign consciousness of good deeds.

And Pierre of the Scar, though for the sake of the honor of his newlymade wife he had taken joy of the feel of the old Lord's spine against his reddened pike, yet could see otherwise little good of the exchange. He sat before the tavern, his chin in his hands, looking up under scowling brows through the noontide haze to the square masses of the castle against the blue. Pondering all things, for and against, he found one crumb of comfort.

"Courage" he said, abruptly, to the innkeeper. "But that this man is a great lord he would be a merry companion and a true. And-how he bearded the village alone! By Saint Denis, he is a man."

"One-half!" moaned the innkeeper. "His steward showed me the tax-paper yestere'en. How doth he expect a poor devil to live? A murrain on him! It is infamous."

"The same on all the great!" growled Pierre. "But wait, my friend, till thou art really hurt. I think my Lord Thibaut hath not done with us yet. He hath the eye of the mocker, the soul of the Cat which couches on his shield. Well, it is in God's hands. Fare thee well, comrade, I go to kill one of his deer. Shall I bring thee a haunch?”

"God 'a mercy, no!" screamed the innkeeper. This was dangerous business, hanging business; he would certainly have no share in it.

Pierre swore at him for a coward slave, and strode out into the hot glare of the market-place; the other, with fear in his heart, and eyes screwed up against the molten noon, watching him until he disappeared into the shade of the willows which fringed the river banks.

III.

WHICH TELLS OF THE VILLAINY OF
PIERRE OF THE SCAR.

Now it so happened that Thibaut, with his friend of Chataurenard, rode, hawk on wrist, through the woods, upon that very day wherein he had given terms unto his vassals. And, as the two rode, my Lord of Aumur told of the finding of a man in a village of rats; a real man, of good inches and without fear. And in what way to deal with him he knew not. Perigny, upon this tale, grew much wroth, saying that it were great shame in a noble so to be bearded by canaille, and, for dealing, recommending the rack as a chastener of high spirit. For manhood in a vassal this young lord of weak chin held as, in itself, vile rebellion. Were it not early shattered, he held again that trouble would grow of it. But Thibaut, more a judge of things human, would have it that a man was less to be feared than a base thing that crawls and suffers, and at last stings in the back. Pierre, he said, would never strike so, the others

would. And so there was to be no talk of rack or thumbscrew; with three round oaths he swore that he liked his big villein with the scarred poll, and that no harm should come to him in that way. He might sport with him hereafter, but that would wait. Thus Pierre was held in reserve like a bear, to be baited at some future time of his lords idlesse. In such discourse they rode side by side until the river bank was reached.

There Perigny, having flown his hawk at a heron, followed it afar; for twice the bird stooped ere it killed. So that he missed Thibaut and rode back to the Château without having seen him again that afternoon. Thibaut, indeed, was in no way ill-pleased at having lost his friend, for he would fain be alone. Riding slowly, therefore, he mused pleasantly upon his fortunes; upon the strange evanishment of the treasure of Aumur; upon the rich lands of his heritage; upon the quaint and humorous events of the morning. And lastly, upon Pierre of the Scar. It was, he felt, absurd, but this man he liked well, and would fain see more of him. A bold man this, and in farming was a good soldier lost. So he rode, musing.

Wherefore it came to pass that Pierre, having watched a stag, two roes, and a brocket for many hours drift slowly within range as they fed, and having smitten the stag well and truly behind the shoulder with a short bolt, looked up from prideful contemplation of his quarry to meet the cold anger in the eye of his lord.

"By St. Loy!" sware he of Aumur, "this shall not be. Thou shalt hang. A stag royal, too! Villain! Three crockets, and oh, the noble branching tines of him! Why chosest thou this great stag? It was in my heart to have pardoned thee a lesser thing. A roe, a spire, e'en a well-grown stag

gart. But no, thou must slay this. Dog, what hast thou to say?"

"Seigneur," answered Pierre, “we are alone, one man against one-nay, come not closer, my lord," he raised his crossbow.

"What, rat!" sneered Thibaut, "wouldst lift thy bow against thy betters?"

"Ay, my better, would I. We are alone, who could know? But I have ta'en a foolish liking for you, my lord; and though you are now about to die, I dare swear you are not afraid."

Thibaut deigned no answer to this varlet; let him shoot. It was, nevertheless, annoying. He brushed શ speck of dust off his cuff.

"Dost fear me, my lord?" asked

Pierre.

At this did Thibaut throw back his head and laugh. "Oh, apt!" he cried. "But it doth not save, fellow. Andthrow down thy bow, for 'tis not in thy heart to kill me. Thou art not one to do foul murder upon weaponless men."

"Nay, hang me for a fool, but you've hit it. I cannot." Pierre flung down the bow.

The Lord of Aumur stepped forward, picked up the weapon, placed the bolt, and levelled it against the heart of the deer-killer. "On thy knees, varlet, for thou hast not one minute to live. Pray, poor fool, though I fear thou art lost for this stag."

"I like not the Church," answered Pierre, "and I hold it shame to die on my marrowbones, like a monk."

"Nay, live then, knave," said Thibaut. "Wert noble, I could love thee well. Art certain, in truth, that thou art not half so? Thy mother, perchance, lived at the castle? Why, now I come to look, thou hast the very trick of the eye which had my late cousin, God rest his soul."

"Nay, my lord, that I know not. But of my mother I am told that she

was kept close by my father, who, good man, was much about the Chateau by day-and night."

Thibaut laughed again. "Go," he said, "before I repent me my folly of pardon. A stag royal! Oh, villainous!"

"Touching that same stag, my lord," insinuated Pierre, "will you deign to accept it with my best reverence?"

"What! Insolent knave! I see, after all thou dost desire hanging. Nay then, take it to the devil with thee. But haply thou wouldst wish me to help thee carry it?"

"My lord doth me too much honor," replied Pierre gravely. "But in truth I can make shift to carry it myself."

He shouldered his game with ease, though indeed it was a great stag, and took his way through the forest. Thibaut stood long in thought. "I am mad," he muttered, and-"what a The Pall Mall Magazine.

man! what a man!" Then he remounted and pricked home to tell the tale, to the infinite scandal of Léon Perigny.

And, in the dusk, came Pierre of the Scar before the inn, and, throwing down his stag, cried loudly to mine host that he had the promised venison. Whereat the latter, a cautelous fellow, I warrant you, groaned and prayed and bolted the door, refusing share in such folly and villainy. So Pierre, laughing, went his way.

Nor could the base rascal of the inn, coming up at night to the castle in coward fear of his own skin, understand why, as Thibaut listened to his tale, he slapped his thigh and laughed: nor why he was kicked from the august presence of his lord, whom in zeal and love he had come to serve, as all loyal subjects should.

"Shall I bring you back some salamanders?"

So ran the postscript to a letter written to me by our chaplain, who had gone for a few days' change of air to Schwartzburg.

Should I like some salamanders? Well, yes, perhaps I should, if I were only gifted to know what salamanders

were.

I may as well acknowledge that not long since I should have written down a salamander as a species of either sand-fly or sand-shrimp to be met with in hot climates. "As lively as a salamander," or "Hot enough for a salamander." On dimly recollected and disjointed sayings of this type I might have built up a theory quite good enough for a man who was not invited to deal with the salamander in propria persona. But now, seriously athirst

Howard Ashton.

for information, I plied acquaintances here with inquiries, only to discover that in the matter of salamanders I was not much more ignorant than my neighbors. After the example of Rehoboam I sought advice from both old and young counsellors. But even so I failed to achieve my purpose, though a jolly old colonel, who might have sat for the portrait of the older Peveril of the Peak, and who appeared to have Ruff's Guide at his finger's ends, was on the whole more truthful than his neighbors.

"Salamander?" he exclaimed. "Why, bless my soul, yes! I remember him perfectly well-won the Grand National, my boy, somewhere in the 'sixties. I can't remember exactly who rode him, but I can easily look it up. D-d fine jumper he was too, though I didn't back him."