The Knight of Malta

“Raimond V. is not a bad master. If the harvest fails, he comes to your aid; he replaced two draught-oxen that I lost through witchcraft.”

“That is true, when one holds out a hand to the lord of Anbiez, he never draws it back empty,” said an artisan.

“And at the time of the last descent of the pirates in this place, he and his people bravely fought the miscreants; but for him, I, my wife, and my daughter, would have been carried off by these demons,” said a citizen.

“And the two sons of the good man Jacbuin were redeemed and brought back from Barbary by good Father Elzear, the brother of Raimond V. But for him they would still have been in chains galling enough to damn their souls,” replied another.

“And the other brother, the commander, who looks as sombre as his black galley,” said a patron of a merchant vessel, “did he not keep those pagans in awe for more than two months while his galley lay soaked in the gulf? Come, a good and noble family is that of Anbiez. After all, this man of law is not one of us,” and pointed to the recorder. “What does it matter to us if he is or is not run through by a bull’s horn?”

“That is true, that is true; he is not one of us,” repeated several voices.

“Raimond V. is a good old gentleman who never refuses a pound of powder and a pound of lead to a sailor, to defend his boat,” said a sailor.

“There is always a good place at the fireside of Maison-Forte, a good glass of Sauve-chrétien wine and a piece of silver for those who go there,” said a beggar.

“And his daughter! An angel! A perfect Notre Dame for the poor people,” said another.

“Well, who in the devil denies all that?” cried the consul. “Raimond V. kills wolves because he is fond of the chase. He does not mind a piece of silver or a pound of powder or a glass of wine, because he is rich, very rich; but he does all this to hide his perfidious designs.”

“What designs?” asked several auditors.

“The design of ruining our commerce, ravaging our city, in short, doing worse than the pirates, or the Duke d’Eperaon with his Gascons,” said the consul, with a mysterious air.

All this, which he did not believe, the consul had uttered as an experiment, and the alarming disclosure of some hidden design, exciting the curiosity of the crowd, was at last listened to with attention.

“Explain that to us, consul,” said all, with one voice.

“Master Isnard, who is a man of the law, is going to explain this tissue of dark and pernicious schemes,” said Talebard-Talebardon.

The recorder came forward with an anxious air, raised his eyes to heaven, and said:

“Your worthy consul, my friends, has told you nothing but what is, unfortunately, too true. We have proofs of it.”

“Proofs!” repeated several hearers, looking at each other.

“Give me your attention. The king, our master, and monseigneur the cardinal have only one thought, – the happiness of the French people.”

“But we are not French, we are quite another thing,” said a Provençal, proud of his nationality. “The king is not our master, he is our count.”

“You talk finely, my comrade, but listen to me, if you please,” replied the recorder. “The king, our count, not wishing to have his Provençal communities exposed to the despotic power of the nobles and lords, has ordered us to disarm them. His Eminence remembers too well the violences of the Duke d’Epernon, of the lords of Baux, of Noirol, of Traviez, and many others. He desires now to take away from the nobility the power of injuring the people and the peasantry. Thus, for instance, his Eminence wished, – and these sovereign orders will be executed sooner or later, – he wished, I repeat, to remove from Maison-Forte, the castle of Raimond V., the cannon and small pieces of ordnance which guard the entrance of your port, and which can prevent the going out of the smallest fishing-boat.”

“But which can also prevent the entrance of pirates,” said a sailor.

“No doubt, my friends, the fire bums or purifies; the arrow kills the friend or the enemy, according to the hand which holds the crossbow. I should not have had any suspicion of Raimond V., if he had not himself unveiled to me his perfidious designs. Let us put aside his cruelty to me. I am happy to be the martyr of our sacred cause.”

“You are not a martyr, as you are still living,” said the incorrigible sailor.

“I am living at this moment,” replied the recorder, “but the Lord knows at what price, with what perils, I have bought my life, or what dangers I may still be required to meet. But let us not talk of myself.”

“No, no, do not talk of yourself, – that does not concern us, – but tell us how you obtained proof of the wicked designs Raimond V. has against our city,” said an inquirer.

“Nothing more evident, my friends. He has fortified his castle again, and why? To resist the pirates, say some. But never would the pirates dare attack such a fortress, where they would gain nothing but blows. He has made a strong fort in his house, from which the cannon can founder your vessels and destroy your city. Do you know why? In order to tyrannise over you for his profit, and tread Provençal customs under foot with impunity. Wait; let me give you an instance. He has, contrary to all law, established his fishing-nets outside of his legal boundary.”

“That is true,” said Talebard-Talebardon; “you know he has no right to do it. What injury that does to our fisheries, often our only resource!”

“That is evident,” answered a few hearers; “the seines of Raimond V. have injured us, especially now when the supply of fish is smaller. But if it is his right?”

“But it is not his right!” shouted the recorder.

“We will know to-day, as the suit is to be decided by the overseers of the port,” said an auditor.

The recorder exchanged a glance of intelligence with the consul, and said:

“Doubtless the tribunal of overseers is all-powerful to decide the question, but it is exactly on this point that my doubts have arisen. I fear very much that Raimond V. is not willing to refer to this popular tribunal. He is capable of refusing to obey that summons, made, after all, by poor people, on a high and powerful baron – ”

“It is impossible! it is impossible! for it is our special right. The people have their rights, the nobility have theirs. Freedom for all!” cried many voices.

“I hold Raimond V. to be a good and generous noble,” said another, “but I shall regard him as a traitor if he refuses to recognise our privileges.”

“No, no, that is impossible,” repeated several voices.

“He will come – ”

“He is going to appear before the overseers – ”

“God grant it!” said the recorder, exchanging another glance with the consul. “God grant it, my friends; because, if he despises our customs enough to act otherwise, we must think that he put his house in a state of such formidable defence only to brave the laws.”

“We repeat that what you are saying, recorder, is impossible. Raimond V. cannot deny the authority of the overseers, nor can he deny the authority of the king,” said an auditor.

“But, first, he denies the authority of the king,” cried Master Isnard, triumphantly; “and, since I must tell you, I believe, even after what your worthy consul has told me, that he will deny, not only the royal power, but the rights of the community also; in a word, that he will positively refuse to appear before the overseers, and that he wishes to keep his seines and nets where they are, to the detriment of the general fishery.”

A hollow murmur of astonishment and indignation welcomed this news.

“Speak, speak, consul; is it true?”

“Raimond V. is too brave a nobleman for that.”

“If it is true, yet – ”

“They are our rights, after all, and – ”

Such were the various remarks which rapidly crossed each other through the restless crowd.

The consul and recorder saw themselves surrounded and pressed by a multitude which was becoming angrily impatient.

Talebard-Talebardon, in collusion with the recorder, had prepared this scene with diabolical cunning.

The consul replied, hoping to increase the dissatisfaction of the populace: