The Knight of Malta

“Secretary, call another plaintiff.”

The dispute between Jacques Brun, the pilot, and the sailmaker, Pierre Baif, was of little importance. It was promptly, but carefully, decided by the overseers in the midst of the general preoccupation, and the cause of the baron immediately followed.

Notwithstanding the presence of the Baron des Anbiez, it was not known that he intended to appear before the tribunal. Naturally, the crowd remembered the insinuations of Master Isnard. The latter insisted that the baron was capable of manifesting his contempt for the tribunal in a very startling manner.

At last the secretary called, in an excited voice: “Master Talebard-Talebardon, consul of the city of La Ciotat, versus Raimond V., Baron des Anbiez.”

A long murmur of satisfied impatience circulated around the hall.

“Now, my children,” said the old gentlemen to those who surrounded him, “make way, I pray you, not for the baron, but for the suitor who is going before his judges.”

The enthusiasm inspired by these words of Raimond V. proved that, in spite of their instinctive thirst for equality, the people always had an immense liking for persons of rank who submitted to the common law.

The crowd, dividing on each side, made a wide avenue, in the middle of which Raimond V. walked with a grave and majestic step.

The old gentleman wore the sumptuous costume of the time: a doublet with points, a short mantle of brown velvet, richly braided with gold, wide trousers of the same material, which formed a sort of skirt descending below the knee. His scarlet silk stockings disappeared in the funnel of his short boots made of cordovan leather, and equipped with long gold spurs. A costly shoulder-belt sustained his sword, and the white plumes of his black cap fell over his collar of Flanders lace.

The countenance of the old gentleman, habitually joyous, showed at that moment a lofty expression of nobility and authority.

A few steps from the tribunal the baron took off his hat, which he had kept on until then, although the crowd was uncovered. One could not help admiring the dignity of the face and bearing of this noble old man with long hair and gray moustache.

Soon Master Talebardon arrived.

Notwithstanding his usual assurance, and although he had the recorder Isnard at his heels, he could not conquer his emotion, and carefully avoided the baron’s glances.

Peyrou rose, as well as the other overseers; he kept his hat on.

“Bernard Talebard-Talebardon, come forward,” said he.

The consul entered the enclosure.

“Raimond V., Baron des Anbiez, come forward.”

The baron entered the enclosure.

“Bernard Talebard-Talebardon, you demand, in the name of the community of La Ciotat, to be heard by the overseers of the port, against Raimond V., Baron des Anbiez.”

“Yes, syndic,” replied the consul.

“Deposit two sous and eight farthings in the common purse, and speak.”

The consul put the money in a wooden box, and, advancing near the tribunal, stated his grievance in these terms:

“Syndic and overseers, from time immemorial the fishery of the cove of Camerou has been divided between the community of the city and the lord of Anbiez; the said lord can lay his nets and seines from the coast to the rocks called the Seven Stones of Castrembaou, which form a sort of belt, about five hundred steps from the coast. The community hold the right from the Seven Stones of Castrembaou to the two points of the bay; before you, syndic and overseers, I affirm on oath that this is the truth, and I adjure Raimond V., Baron des Anbiez, here present and called by me, to say if such is not the truth.”

Turning to the gentleman, Peyrou said to him:

“Raimond V., Baron des Anbiez, is what the plaintiff says true? Has the right of fishery always been thus divided between the lords of Anbiez and the community of the city of La Ciotat?”

“The fishery has always been thus divided. I recognise it,” said the baron.

The perfect agreeableness with which the baron made his reply left no doubt as to his submission to the ability of the tribunal.

A murmur of satisfaction circulated through the hall. “Continue,” said Peyrou to the consul.

“Syndic and overseers,” pursued Talebard-Talebardon, “in spite of our rights and our custom, instead of confining himself to the space between the rocks of the Seven Stones of Castrembaou and the coast, Raimond V., Baron des Anbiez, has laid his nets beyond the rocks of the Seven Stones toward the high sea, and consequently has injured the rights of the community which I represent. He fishes in the part reserved for the said community. These facts, which I affirm on oath, are known, besides, to everybody, as well as yourselves, syndic and overseers.”

“The syndic and the overseers are not in this suit,” replied the watchman to the consul, severely. Then turning to the gentleman, he said to him:

“Raimond V., Baron des Anbiez, do you admit that you have thrown your nets on this side of the Seven Rocks, and toward the high sea, in the part of the cove reserved for the community of La Ciotat?”

“I have had my nets thrown this side of the Seven Rocks,” said the baron.

“Plaintiff, what do you demand from Raimond V., Baron des Anbiez?” said the syndic.

“I require,” answered Talebard-Talebardon, “the tribunal to forbid the lord of Anbiez henceforth to fish or to lay seines beyond the rocks of Castrembaou; I require that the said lord be commanded to pay to the said community, under the claim of damages and restitution, the sum of two thousand pounds; I require that the said lord be notified that, if he again lay nets and seines in that part of the cove which does not belong to him, the said community shall have the right to remove and destroy by force the said nets and seines, making the lord of Anbiez alone responsible for the disorders which may follow the exercise of this right.”

As they heard the consul formulate so clearly his charge against Raimond V., the spectators turned to look at the baron.

He remained calm and unmoved, to the great astonishment of the public.

The violent and impetuous character of the baron was so well known that his calmness and self-possession inspired as much admiration as astonishment.

Peyrou, addressing the old lord, said, in a solemn tone:

“Raimond V., Baron des Anbiez, what have you to reply to the plaintiff? Do you accept his requisitions from you as just and fair?”

“Syndic and overseers,” replied the baron, bowing respectfully, “yes, that is true. I have had my nets laid outside of the Seven Rocks of Oastrembaou, but, in order to explain my act, I will state that which all of you know.”

“Raimond V., Baron des Anbiez, we are not in this suit,” said Peyrou, gravely.

In spite of his self-control and his affection for the watchman, the old gentleman bit his lip, but soon regained his calmness and said:

“I will say to you, syndic and overseers, what every one knows: for several years the sea has fallen to such a degree that the part of the cove in which I had the right to fish has become dry. The sea broom has pushed its way there to the utmost, and my greyhound Eclair started a hare there the other day; honestly, syndic and overseers, to make any use of the part of the cove which belongs to me, I should need, now, horses and guns, instead of boats and nets.”

The baron’s reply, delivered with his usual good humour, amused the crowd; even the overseers could not repress a smile.

The baron continued:

“The retreat of the sea has been so great that there is hardly six feet of water in the spot around the Seven Rocks, where my fishing-place ends and that of the community begins. I have believed I had the right to lay my nets and my seines five hundred steps beyond the Seven Rocks, since there was no more water on this side, supposing that the community, following my example, and the movement of the water, would also advance five hundred steps toward the high sea.”

The moderation manifest in the baron’s tone, his reasons, which were really plausible, made a very great impression on the spectators, although the greater part of them had a common cause with the consul, who represented the interest of the town.

Addressing the consul, the syndic said:

“Talebard-Talebardon, what have you to reply?”

“Syndic and overseers, I reply that the cove of Castrembaou has no more than six hundred steps to begin from the Seven Rocks, and that if the lord of Anbiez is adjudged five hundred, there will hardly remain one hundred steps for the community to throw its nets; now, every one knows that fishing for tunnies is profitable only in the bay. No doubt the waters, retiring, have left all the fishing domain of the lord of Anbiez dry, but that is not the fault of the community, and the community ought not to suffer from it.”