The Truce of God | Page 2

said, standing with her feet
well apart and looking up at him, "would I become a boy?"
The Bishop tugged at his beard. "A boy, little maid! Would you give up
your blue eyes and your soft skin to be a roystering lad?"
"My father wishes for a son," she had replied and the cloud that was

over the Castle shadowed the Bishop's eyes.
"It would not be well," he replied, "to tamper with the works of the
Almighty. Pray rather for this miracle, that your father's heart be turned
toward you and toward the lady, your mother."
So during much of the night she had asked this boon steadfastly. But
clearly she had not been heard.
"Back to your bed!" said her father, and turned his face away.
So she went as far as the leather curtain which hung in the doorway and
there she turned.
"Why do they sing?" she had asked the Bishop, of the blacksmith and
the others, and he had replied into his beard, "To soften the hard of
heart."
So she turned in the doorway and sang in her reedy little voice, much
thinned by the cold, sang to soften her young father's heart.
"The Light of Light Divine, True Brightness undefined. He bears for us
the shame of sin, A holy, spotless Child."
But the song failed. Perhaps it was the wrong hour, or perhaps it was
because she had not slept in the manger and brought forth the gift of
voice.
"Blood of the martyrs!" shouted her father, and raised himself on his
elbow. "Are you mad? Get back to your bed. I shall have a word with
someone for this."
Whether it had softened him or not it had stirred him, so she made her
plea.
"It is His birthday. I want to see my mother."
Then she ducked under the curtain and ran as fast as she could back to
where she belonged. Terror winged her feet. She had spoken a

forbidden word.
All sleep was gone from Charles the Fair. He lay on his elbow in his
bed and thought of things that he wished to forget: of the wife he had
put away because in eight years she had borne him no son; of his great
lands that would go to his cousin, Philip of the Black Beard, whom he
hated; of girls in the plain who wooed him with soft eyes and whom he
passed by; of a Jew who lay in a dungeon beneath the Castle because of
usury and other things.
After a time he slept again, but lightly, for the sun came in through the
deep, unshaded window and fell on his face and on the rushes that
covered the floor. And in his sleep the grimness was gone, and the
pride. And his mouth, which was sad, contended with the firmness of
his chin.
Clotilde went back to her bed and tucked her feet under her to warm
them. In the next room her nurse lay on a bed asleep, with her mouth
open; outside in the stone corridor a page slept on a skin, with a corner
over him against the draught.
She thought things over while she warmed her feet. It was clear that
singing did not soften all hearts. Perhaps she did not sing very well. But
the Bishop had said that after one had done a good act one might pray
with hope. She decided to do a good act and then to pray to see her
mother; she would pray also to become a boy so that her father might
care for her. But the Bishop considered it a little late for such a prayer.
She made terms with the Almighty, sitting on her bed.
"I shall do a good act," she said, "on this the birthday of Thy Son, and
after that I shall ask for the thing Thou knowest of."
After much thinking, she decided to free the Jew. And being, after all,
her father's own child, she acted at once.
It was a matter of many cold stone steps and much fumbling with bars.
But Guillem the gaoler had crept up to the hall and lay sleeping by the

fire, with a dozen dogs about him. It was the time of the Truce of God,
and vigilance was relaxed. Also Guillem was in love with a girl of the
village and there was talk that the seigneur, in his loneliness, had seen
that she was beautiful. So Guillem slept to forget, and the Jew lay
awake because of rats and anxiety.
The Jew rose from the floor when Clotilde threw the grating open, and
blinked at her with weary and gentle eyes.
"It is the birthday of our Lord," said Clotilde, "and I am doing a good
deed