The Well at the World's End: A Tale
by William Morris · English · Gutenberg #169 · 1,181,254 chars · public domain (US)
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Title: The Well at the World's End: A Tale
Author: William Morris
Release date: October 1, 1994 [eBook #169]
Most recently updated: March 31, 2025
Language: English
Other information and formats: www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/169
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*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE WELL AT THE WORLD'S END: A TALE ***
The Well at the World's End
by
William Morris
Table of Contents
BOOK ONE The Road Unto Love
Chapter
1 The Sundering of the Ways
2 Ralph Goeth Back Home to the High House
3 Ralph Cometh to the Cheaping-Town
4 Ralph Rideth the Downs
5 Ralph Cometh to Higham-on-the-Way
6 Ralph Goeth His Ways From the Abbey of St. Mary at Higham
7 The Maiden of Bourton Abbas
8 Ralph Cometh to the Wood Perilous. An Adventure Therein
9 Another Adventure in the Wood Perilous
10 A Meeting and a Parting in the Wood Perilous
11 Now Must Ralph Ride For It
12 Ralph Entereth Into the Burg of the Four Friths
13 The Streets of the Burg of the Four Friths
14 What Ralph Heard of the Matters of the Burg of the Four Friths
15 How Ralph Departed From the Burg of the Four Friths
16 Ralph Rideth the Wood Perilous Again
17 Ralph Cometh to the House of Abundance
18 Of Ralph in the Castle of Abundance
19 Ralph Readeth in a Book Concerning the Well at the World's End
20 Ralph Meeteth a Man in the Wood
21 Ralph Weareth Away Three Days Uneasily
22 An Adventure in the Wood
23 The Leechcraft of the Lady
24 Supper and Slumber in the Woodland Hall
BOOK TWO The Road Unto Trouble
1 Ralph Meets With Love in the Wilderness
2 They Break Their Fast in the Wildwood
3 The Lady Telleth Ralph of the Past Days of Her Life
4 The Lady Tells of Her Deliverance
5 Yet More of the Lady's Story
6 The Lady Tells Somewhat of Her Doings After She Left the Wilderness
7 The Lady Tells of the Strife and Trouble That Befell After Her Coming
8 The Lady Maketh an End of Her Tale
9 They Go On Their Way Once More
10 Of the Desert-House and the Chamber of Love in the Wilderness
11 Ralph Cometh Out of the Wilderness
12 Ralph Falleth in With Friends and Rideth to Whitwall
13 Richard Talketh With Ralph Concerning the Well at the World's End.
14 Ralph Falleth in With Another Old Friend
15 Ralph Dreams a Dream Or Sees a Vision
16 Of the Tales of Swevenham
17 Richard Bringeth Tidings of Departing
18 Ralph Departeth From Whitwall With the Fellowship of Clement Chapman
19 Master Clement Tells Ralph Concerning the Lands Whereunto They Were
20 They Come to the Mid-Mountain Guest-House
21 A Battle in the Mountains
22 Ralph Talks With Bull Shockhead
23 Of the Town of Cheaping Knowe
24 Ralph Heareth More Tidings of the Damsel
25 The Fellowship Comes to Whiteness
26 They Ride the Mountains Toward Goldburg
27 Clement Tells of Goldburg
28 Now They Come to Goldburg
29 Of Goldburg and the Queen Thereof
30 Ralph Hath Hope of Tidings Concerning the Well at the World's End
31 The Beginning of the Road To Utterbol
32 Ralph Happens on Evil Days
33 Ralph is Brought on the Road Towards Utterbol
34 The Lord of Utterbol Will Wot of Ralph's Might and Minstrelsy
35 Ralph Cometh To the Vale of the Tower
36 The Talk of Two Women Concerning Ralph
37 How Ralph Justed With the Aliens
38 A Friend Gives Ralph Warning
39 The Lord of Utterbol Makes Ralph a Free Man
40 They Ride Toward Utterness From Out of Vale Turris
41 Redhead Keeps Tryst
BOOK THREE The Road To The Well At World's End.
1 An Adventure in the Wood Under the Mountains
2 Ralph Rides the Wood Under the Mountains
3 Ralph Meeteth With Another Adventure in the Wood Under the Mountain
4 They Ride the Wood Under the Mountains
5 They Come on the Sage of Swevenham
6 Those Two Are Learned Lore by the Sage of Swevenham
7 An Adventure by the Way
8 They Come to the Sea of Molten Rocks
9 They Come Forth From the Rock-Sea
10 They Come to the Gate of the Mountains
11 They Come to the Vale of Sweet Chestnuts
12 Winter Amidst of the Mountains
13 Of Ursula and the Bear
14 Now Come the Messengers of the Innocent Folk
15 They Come to the Land of the Innocent Folk
16 They Come to the House of the Sorceress
17 They Come Through the Woodland to the Thirsty Desert
18 They Come to the Dry Tree
19 They Come Out of the Thirsty Desert
20 They Come to the Ocean Sea
21 Now They Drink of the Well at the World's End
22 Now They Have Drunk and Are Glad
BOOK FOUR The Road Home
1 Ralph and Ursula Come Back Again Through the Great Mountains
2 They Hear New Tidings of Utterbol
3 They Winter With the Sage; and Thereafter Come Again to Vale Turris
4 A Feast in the Red Pavilion
5 Bull Telleth of His Winning of the Lordship of Utterbol
6 They Ride From Vale Turris. Redhead Tells of Agatha
7 Of Their Riding the Waste, and of a Battle Thereon
8 Of Goldburg Again, and the Queen Thereof
9 They Come to Cheaping Knowe Once More. Of the King Thereof
10 An Adventure on the Way to the Mountains
11 They Come Through the Mountains Into the Plain
12 The Roads Sunder Again
13 They Come to Whitwall Again
14 They Ride Away From Whitwall
15 A Strange Meeting in the Wilderness
16 They Come to the Castle of Abundance Once More
17 They Fall in With That Hermit
18 A Change of Days in the Burg of the Four Friths
19 Ralph Sees Hampton and the Scaur
20 They Come to the Gate of Higham By the Way
21 Talk Between Those Two Brethren
22 An Old Acquaintance Comes From the Down Country to See Ralph
23 They Ride to Bear Castle
24 The Folkmote of the Shepherds
25 They Come to Wulstead
26 Ralph Sees His Father and Mother Again
27 Ralph Holds Converse With Katherine His Gossip
28 Dame Katherine Tells of the Pair of Beads, and Whence She Had Them
29 They Go Down to Battle in Upmeads
30 Ralph Brings His Father and Mother to Upmeads
31 Ralph Brings Ursula Home to the High House
32 Yet a Few Words Concerning Ralph of Upmeads
BOOK ONE
The Road Unto Love
CHAPTER 1
The Sundering of the Ways
Long ago there was a little land, over which ruled a regulus or
kinglet, who was called King Peter, though his kingdom was but little.
He had four sons whose names were Blaise, Hugh, Gregory and Ralph: of
these Ralph was the youngest, whereas he was but of twenty winters and
one; and Blaise was the oldest and had seen thirty winters.
Now it came to this at last, that to these young men the kingdom of
their father seemed strait; and they longed to see the ways of other
men, and to strive for life. For though they were king's sons, they
had but little world's wealth; save and except good meat and drink, and
enough or too much thereof; house-room of the best; friends to be merry
with, and maidens to kiss, and these also as good as might be; freedom
withal to come and go as they would; the heavens above them, the earth
to bear them up, and the meadows and acres, the woods and fair streams,
and the little hills of Upmeads, for that was the name of their country
and the kingdom of King Peter.
So having nought but this little they longed for much; and that the
more because, king's sons as they were, they had but scant dominion
save over their horses and dogs: for the men of that country were
stubborn and sturdy vavassors, and might not away with masterful
doings, but were like to pay back a blow with a blow, and a foul word
with a buffet. So that, all things considered, it was little wonder if
King Peter's sons found themselves straitened in their little land:
wherein was no great merchant city; no mighty castle, or noble abbey of
monks: nought but fair little halls of yeomen, with here and there a
franklin's court or a shield-knight's manor-house; with many a goodly
church, and whiles a house of good canons, who knew not the road to
Rome, nor how to find the door of the Chancellor's house.
So these young men wearied their father and mother a long while with
telling them of their weariness, and their longing to be gone: till at
last on a fair and hot afternoon of June King Peter rose up from the
carpet which the Prior of St. John's by the Bridge had given him (for
he had been sleeping thereon amidst the grass of his orchard after his
dinner) and he went into the hall of his house, which was called the
High House of Upmeads, and sent for his four sons to come to him. And
they came and stood before his high-seat and he said:
"Sons, ye have long wearied me with words concerning your longing for
travel on the roads; now if ye verily wish to be gone, tell me when
would ye take your departure if ye had your choice?"
They looked at one another, and the three younger ones nodded at Blaise
the eldest: so he began, and said: "Saving the love and honour that
we have for thee, and also for our mother, we would be gone at once,
even with the noon's meat still in our bellies. But thou art the lord
in this land, and thou must rule. Have I said well, brethren?" And
they all said "Yea, yea." Then said the king; "Good! now is the sun
high and hot; yet if ye ride softly ye may come to some good harbour
before nightfall without foundering your horses. So come ye in an
hour's space to the Four-want-way, and there and then will I order your
departure."
The young men were full of joy when they heard his word; and they
departed and went this way and that, gathering such small matters as
each deemed that he needed, and which he might lightly carry with him;
then they armed themselves, and would bid the squires bring them their
horses; but men told them that the said squires had gone their ways
already to the Want-way by the king's commandment: so thither they went
at once a-foot all four in company, laughing and talking together
merrily.
It must be told that this Want-way aforesaid was but four furlongs from
the House, which lay in an ingle of the river called Upmeads Water
amongst very fair meadows at the end of the upland tillage; and the
land sloped gently up toward the hill-country and the unseen mountains
on the north; but to the south was a low ridge which ran along the
water, as it wound along from west to east. Beyond the said ridge, at
a place whence you could see the higher hills to the south, that
stretched mainly east and west also, there was presently an end of the
Kingdom of Upmeads, though the neighbours on that side were peaceable
and friendly, and were wont to send gifts to King Peter. But toward
the north beyond the Want-way King Peter was lord over a good stretch
of land, and that of the best; yet was he never a rich man, for he had
no freedom to tax and tail his folk, nor forsooth would he have used it
if he had; for he was no ill man, but kindly and of measure. On these
northern marches there was war at whiles, whereas they ended in a great
forest well furnished of trees; and this wood was debateable, and King
Peter and his sons rode therein at their peril: but great plenty was
therein of all wild deer, as hart, and buck, and roe, and swine, and
bears and wolves withal. The lord on the other side thereof was a
mightier man than King Peter, albeit he was a bishop, and a baron of
Holy Church. To say sooth he was a close-fist and a manslayer; though
he did his manslaying through his vicars, the knights and men-at-arms
who held their manors of him, or whom he waged.
In that forest had King Peter's father died in battle, and his eldest
son also; therefore, being a man of peace, he rode therein but seldom,
though his sons, the three eldest of them, had both ridden therein and
ran therefrom valiantly. As for Ralph the youngest, his father would
not have him ride the Wood Debateable as yet.
So came those young men to the Want-ways, and found their father
sitting there on a heap of stones, and over against him eight horses,
four destriers, and four hackneys, and four squires withal. So they
came and stood before their father, waiting for his word, and wondering
what it would be.
Now spake King Peter: "Fair sons, ye would go on all adventure to seek
a wider land, and a more stirring life than ye may get of me at home:
so be it! But I have bethought me, that, since I am growing old and
past the age of getting children, one of you, my sons, must abide at
home to cherish me and your mother, and to lead our carles in war if
trouble falleth upon us. Now I know not how to choose by mine own wit
which of you shall ride and which abide. For so it is that ye are
diverse of your conditions; but the evil conditions which one of you
lacks the other hath, and the valiancy which one hath, the other lacks.
Blaise is wise and prudent, but no great man of his hands. Hugh is a
stout rider and lifter, but headstrong and foolhardy, and over
bounteous a skinker; and Gregory is courteous and many worded, but
sluggish in deed; though I will not call him a dastard. As for Ralph,
he is fair to look on, and peradventure he may be as wise as Blaise, as
valiant as Hugh, and as smooth-tongued as Gregory; but of all this we
know little or nothing, whereas he is but young and untried. Yet may
he do better than you others, and I deem that he will do so. All
things considered, then, I say, I know not how to choose between you,
my sons; so let luck choose for me, and ye shall draw cuts for your
roads; and he that draweth longest shall go north, and the next longest
shall go east, and the third straw shall send the drawer west; but as
to him who draweth the shortest cut, he shall go no whither but back
again to my house, there to abide with me the chances and changes of
life; and it is most like that this one shall sit in my chair when I am
gone, and be called King of Upmeads.
"Now, my sons, doth this ordinance please you? For if so be it doth
not, then may ye all abide at home, and eat of my meat, and drink of my
cup, but little chided either for sloth or misdoing, even as it hath
been aforetime."
The young men looked at one another, and Blaise answered and said:
"Sir, as for me I say we will do after your commandment, to take what
road luck may show us, or to turn back home again." They all yeasaid
this one after the other; and then King Peter said: "Now before I draw
the cuts, I shall tell you that I have appointed the squires to go with
each one of you. Richard the Red shall go with Blaise; for though he
be somewhat stricken in years, and wise, yet is he a fierce carle and a
doughty, and knoweth well all feats of arms.
"Lancelot Longtongue shall be squire to Hugh; for he is good of seeming
and can compass all courtesy, and knoweth logic (though it be of the
law and not of the schools), yet is he a proper man of his hands; as
needs must he be who followeth Hugh; for where is Hugh, there is
trouble and debate.
"Clement the Black shall serve Gregory: for he is a careful carle, and
speaketh one word to every ten deeds that he doeth; whether they be
done with point and edge, or with the hammer in the smithy.
"Lastly, I have none left to follow thee, Ralph, save Nicholas
Longshanks; but though he hath more words than I have, yet hath he more
wisdom, and is a man lettered and far-travelled, and loveth our house
right well.
"How say ye, sons, is this to your liking?"
They all said "yea." Then quoth the king; "Nicholas, bring hither the
straws ready dight, and I will give them my sons to draw."
So each young man came up in turn and drew; and King Peter laid the
straws together and looked at them, and said:
"Thus it is, Hugh goeth north with Lancelot, Gregory westward with
Clement." He stayed a moment and then said: "Blaise fareth eastward
and Richard with him. As for thee, Ralph my dear son, thou shalt back
with me and abide in my house and I shall see thee day by day; and thou
shalt help me to live my last years happily in all honour; and thy love
shall be my hope, and thy valiancy my stay."
Therewith he arose and threw his arm about the young man's neck; but he
shrank away a little from his father, and his face grew troubled; and
King Peter noted that, and his countenance fell, and he said:
"Nay nay, my son; grudge not thy brethren the chances of the road, and
the ill-hap of the battle. Here at least for thee is the bounteous
board and the full cup, and the love of kindred and well-willers, and
the fellowship of the folk. O well is thee, my son, and happy shalt
thou be!"
But the young man knit his brows and said no word in answer.
Then came forward those three brethren who were to fare at all
adventure, and they stood before the old man saying nought. Then he
laughed and said: "O ho, my sons! Here in Upmeads have ye all ye need
without money, but when ye fare in the outlands ye need money; is it
not a lack of yours that your pouches be bare? Abide, for I have seen
to it."
Therewith he drew out of his pouch three little bags, and said; "Take
ye each one of these; for therein is all that my treasury may shed as
now. In each of these is there coined money, both white and red, and
some deal of gold uncoined, and of rings and brooches a few, and by
estimation there is in each bag the same value reckoned in lawful
silver of Upmeads and the Wolds and the Overhill-Countries. Take up
each what there is, and do the best ye may therewith."
Then each took his bag, and kissed and embraced his father; and they
kissed Ralph and each other, and so got to horse and departed with
their squires, going softly because of the hot sun. But Nicholas
slowly mounted his hackney and led Ralph's war-horse with him home
again to King Peter's House.
CHAPTER 2
Ralph Goeth Back Home to the High House
Ralph and King Peter walked slowly home together, and as they went King
Peter fell to telling of how in his young days he rode in the Wood
Debateable, and was belated there all alone, and happed upon men who
were outlaws and wolfheads, and feared for his life; but they treated
him kindly, and honoured him, and saw him safe on his way in the
morning. So that never thereafter would he be art and part with those
who hunted outlaws to slay them. "For," said he, "it is with these men
as with others, that they make prey of folk; yet these for the more
part prey on the rich, and the lawful prey on the poor. Otherwise it
is with these wolfheads as with lords and knights and franklins, that
as there be bad amongst them, so also there be good; and the good ones
I happed on, and so may another man."
Hereto paid Ralph little heed at that time, since he had heard the tale
and its morality before, and that more than once; and moreover his mind
was set upon his own matters and these was he pondering. Albeit
perchance the words abode with him. So came they to the House, and
Ralph's mother, who was a noble dame, and well-liking as for her years,
which were but little over fifty, stood in the hall-door to see which
of her sons should come back to her, and when she saw them coming
together, she went up to them, and cast her arms about Ralph and kissed
him and caressed him--being exceeding glad that it was he and not one
of the others who had returned to dwell with them; for he was her
best-beloved, as was little marvel, seeing that he was by far the
fairest and the most loving. But Ralph's face grew troubled again in
his mother's arms, for he loved her exceeding well; and forsooth he
loved the whole house and all that dwelt there, down to the turnspit
dogs in the chimney ingle, and the swallows that nested in the earthen
bottles, which when he was little he had seen his mother put up in the
eaves of the out-bowers: but now, love or no love, the spur was in his
side, and he must needs hasten as fate would have him. However, when
he had disentangled himself from his mother's caresses, he enforced
himself to keep a cheerful countenance, and upheld it the whole evening
through, and was by seeming merry at supper, and went to bed singing.
CHAPTER 3
Ralph Cometh to the Cheaping-Town
He slept in an upper chamber in a turret of the House, which chamber
was his own, and none might meddle with it. There the next day he
awoke in the dawning, and arose and clad himself, and took his wargear
and his sword and spear, and bore all away without doors to the side of
the Ford in that ingle of the river, and laid it for a while in a
little willow copse, so that no chance-comer might see it; then he went
back to the stable of the House and took his destrier from the stall
(it was a dapple-grey horse called Falcon, and was right good,) and
brought him down to the said willow copse, and tied him to a tree till
he had armed himself amongst the willows, whence he came forth
presently as brisk-looking and likely a man-at-arms as you might see on
a summer day. Then he clomb up into the saddle, and went his ways
splashing across the ford, before the sun had arisen, while the
throstle-cocks were yet amidst their first song.
Then he rode on a little trot south away; and by then the sun was up he
was without the bounds of Upmeads; albeit in the land thereabout dwelt
none who were not friends to King Peter and his sons: and that was
well, for now were folk stirring and were abroad in the fields; as a
band of carles going with their scythes to the hay-field; or a maiden
with her milking-pails going to her kine, barefoot through the seeding
grass; or a company of noisy little lads on their way to the nearest
pool of the stream that they might bathe in the warm morning after the
warm night. All these and more knew him and his armour and Falcon his
horse, and gave him the sele of the day, and he was nowise troubled at
meeting them; for besides that they thought it no wonder to meet one of
the lords of Upmeads going armed about his errands, their own errands
were close at home, and it was little likely that they should go that
day so far as to Upmeads Water, seeing that it ran through the meadows
a half-score miles to the north-ward.
So Ralph rode on, and came into the high road, that led one way back
again into Upmeads, and crossed the Water by a fair bridge late builded
between King Peter and a house of Canons on the north side, and the
other way into a good cheaping-town hight Wulstead, beyond which Ralph
knew little of the world which lay to the south, and seemed to him a
wondrous place, full of fair things and marvellous adventures.
So he rode till he came into the town when the fair morning was still
young, the first mass over, and maids gathered about the fountain
amidst the market-place, and two or three dames sitting under the
buttercross. Ralph rode straight up to the house of a man whom he
knew, and had often given him guesting there, and he himself was not
seldom seen in the High House of Upmeads. This man was a merchant, who
went and came betwixt men's houses, and bought and sold many things
needful and pleasant to folk, and King Peter dealt with him much and
often. Now he stood in the door of his house, which was new and
goodly, sniffing the sweet scents which the morning wind bore into the
town; he was clad in a goodly long gown of grey welted with silver, of
thin cloth meet for the summer-tide: for little he wrought with his
hands, but much with his tongue; he was a man of forty summers,
ruddy-faced and black-bearded, and he was called Clement Chapman.
When he saw Ralph he smiled kindly on him, and came and held his
stirrup as he lighted down, and said: "Welcome, lord! Art thou come
to give me a message, and eat and drink in a poor huckster's house, and
thou armed so gallantly?"
Ralph laughed merrily, for he was hungry, and he said: "Yea, I will eat
and drink with thee and kiss my gossip, and go my ways."
Therewith the carle led him into the house; and if it were goodly
without, within it was better. For there was a fair chamber panelled
with wainscot well carven, and a cupboard of no sorry vessels of silver
and latten: the chairs and stools as fair as might be; no king's might
be better: the windows were glazed, and there were flowers and knots
and posies in them; and the bed was hung with goodly web from over sea
such as the soldan useth. Also, whereas the chapman's ware-bowers were
hard by the chamber, there was a pleasant mingled smell therefrom
floating about. The table was set with meat and drink and vessel of
pewter and earth, all fair and good; and thereby stood the chapman's
wife, a very goodly woman of two-score years, who had held Ralph at the
font when she was a slim damsel new wedded; for she was come of no mean
kindred of the Kingdom of Upmeads: her name was Dame Katherine.
Now she kissed Ralph's cheek friendly, and said: "Welcome, gossip! thou
art here in good time to break thy fast; and we will give thee a trim
dinner thereafter, when thou hast been here and there in the town and
done thine errand; and then shalt thou drink a cup and sing me a song,
and so home again in the cool of the evening."
Ralph seemed a little troubled at her word, and he said: "Nay, gossip,
though I thank thee for all these good things as though I had them, yet
must I ride away south straightway after I have breakfasted, and said
one word to the goodman. Goodman, how call ye the next town southward,
and how far is it thither?"
Quoth Clement: "My son, what hast thou to do with riding south? As
thou wottest, going hence south ye must presently ride the
hill-country; and that is no safe journey for a lonely man, even if he
be a doughty knight like to thee, lord."
Said Ralph, reddening withal: "I have an errand that way."
"An errand of King Peter's or thine own?" said Clement.
"Of King Peter's, if ye must wot," said Ralph.
Clement were no chapman had he not seen that the lad was lying; so he
said:
"Fair lord, saving your worship, how would it be as to the speeding of
King Peter's errand, if I brought thee before our mayor, and swore the
peace against thee; so that I might keep thee in courteous prison till
I had sent to thy father of thy whereabouts?"
The young man turned red with anger; but ere he could speak Dame
Katherine said sharply: "Hold thy peace, Clement! What hast thou to
meddle or make in the matter? If our young lord hath will to ride out
and see the world, why should we let him? Yea, why should his father
let him, if it come to that? Take my word for it that my gossip shall
go through the world and come back to those that love him, as goodly as
he went forth. And hold! here is for a token thereof."
Therewith she went to an ark that stood in the corner, and groped in
the till thereof and brought out a little necklace of blue and green
stones with gold knobs betwixt, like a pair of beads; albeit neither
pope nor priest had blessed them; and tied to the necklace was a little
box of gold with something hidden therein. This gaud she gave to
Ralph, and said to him: "Gossip, wear this about thy neck, and let no
man take it from thee, and I think it will be salvation to thee in
peril, and good luck to thee in the time of questing; so that it shall
be to thee as if thou hadst drunk of the WELL AT THE WORLD'S END."
"What is that water?" said Ralph, "and how may I find it?"
"I know not rightly," she said, "but if a body might come by it, I hear
say it saveth from weariness and wounding and sickness; and it winneth
love from all, and maybe life everlasting. Hast thou not heard tell of
it, my husband?"
"Yea," said the chapman, "many times; and how that whoso hath drunk
thereof hath the tongue that none may withstand, whether in buying or
selling, or prevailing over the hearts of men in any wise. But as for
its wherabouts, ye shall not find it in these parts. Men say that it
is beyond the Dry Tree; and that is afar, God wot! But now, lord
Ralph, I rede thee go back again this evening with Andrew, my nephew,
for company: forsooth, he will do little less gainful than riding with
thee to Upmeads than if he abide in Wulstead; for he is idle. But, my
lord, take it not amiss that I spake about the mayor and the tipstaves;
for it was but a jest, as thou mayest well wot."
Ralph's face cleared at that word, and he stood smiling, weighing the
chaplet in his hand; but Dame Katherine said:
"Dear gossip, do it on speedily; for it is a gift from me unto thee:
and from a gossip even king's sons may take a gift."
Quoth Ralph: "But is it lawful to wear it? is there no wizardry within
it?"
"Hearken to him!" she said, "and how like unto a man he speaketh; if
there were a brawl in the street, he would strike in and ask no word
thereof, not even which were the better side: whereas here is my
falcon-chick frighted at a little gold box and a pair of Saracen beads."
"Well," quoth Ralph, "the first holy man I meet shall bless them for
me."
"That shall he not," said the dame, "that shall he not. Who wotteth
what shall betide to thee or me if he do so? Come, do them on, and
then to table! For seest thou not that the goodman is wearying for
meat? and even thine eyes will shine the brighter for a mouthful,
king's son and gossip."
She took him by the hand and did the beads on his neck and kissed and
fondled him before he sat down, while the goodman looked on, grinning
rather sheepishly, but said nought to them; and only called on his boy
to lead the destrier to stable. So when they were set down, the
chapman took up the word where it had been dropped, and said: "So,
Lord Ralph, thou must needs take to adventures, being, as thou deemest,
full grown. That is all one as the duck taketh to water despite of the
hen that hath hatched her. Well, it was not to be thought that Upmeads
would hold you lords much longer. Or what is gone with my lords your
brethren?"
Said Ralph: "They have departed at all adventure, north, east, and
west, each bearing our father's blessing and a bag of pennies. And to
speak the truth, goodman, for I perceive I am no doctor at lying, my
father and mother would have me stay at home when my brethren were
gone, and that liketh me not; therefore am I come out to seek my luck
in the world: for Upmeads is good for a star-gazer, maybe, or a
simpler, or a priest, or a worthy good carle of the fields, but not for
a king's son with the blood running hot in his veins. Or what sayest
thou, gossip?"
Quoth the dame: "I could weep for thy mother; but for thee nought at
all. It is good that thou shouldest do thy will in the season of youth
and the days of thy pleasure. Yea, and I deem that thou shalt come
back again great and worshipful; and I am called somewhat foreseeing.
Only look to it that thou keep the pretty thing that I have just given
thee."
"Well," said the chapman, "this is fine talk about pleasure and the
doing of one's will; nevertheless a whole skin is good wares, though it
be not to be cheapened in any market of the world. Now, lord, go thou
where thou wilt, whether I say go or abide; and forsooth I am no man of
King Peter's, that I should stay thee. As for the name of the next
town, it is called Higham-on-the-Way, and is a big town plenteous of
victuals, with strong walls and a castle, and a very rich abbey of
monks: and there is peace within its walls, because the father abbot
wages a many men to guard him and his, and to uphold his rights against
all comers; wherein he doth wisely, and also well. For much folk
flocketh to his town and live well therein; and there is great recourse
of chapmen thither. No better market is there betwixt this and
Babylon. Well, Sir Ralph, I rede thee if thou comest unhurt to
Higham-on-the-Way, go no further for this time, but take service with
the lord abbot, and be one of his men of war; thou may'st then become
his captain if thou shouldest live; which would be no bad adventure for
one who cometh from Upmeads."
Ralph looked no brighter for this word, and he answered nought to it:
but said presently:
"And what is to be looked for beyond Higham if one goeth further? Dost
thou know the land any further?"
The carle smiled: "Yea forsooth, and down to the Wood Perilous, and
beyond it, and the lands beyond the Wood; and far away through them. I
say not that I have been to the Dry Tree; but I have spoken to one who
hath heard of him who hath seen it; though he might not come by a
draught of the Well at the World's End."
Ralph's eyes flashed, and his cheeks reddened as he listened hereto;
but he spake quietly:
"Master Clement, how far dost thou make it to Higham-on-the-Way?"
"A matter of forty miles," said the Chapman; "because, as thou wottest,
if ye ride south from hence, ye shall presently bring your nose up
against the big downs, and must needs climb them at once; and when ye
are at the top of Bear Hill, and look south away ye shall see nought
but downs on downs with never a road to call a road, and never a
castle, or church, or homestead: nought but some shepherd's hut; or at
the most the little house of a holy man with a little chapel thereby in
some swelly of the chalk, where the water hath trickled into a pool;
for otherwise the place is waterless." Therewith he took a long pull at
the tankard by his side, and went on:
"Higham is beyond all that, and out into the fertile plain; and a
little river hight Coldlake windeth about the meadows there; and it is
a fair land; though look you the wool of the downs is good, good, good!
I have foison of this year's fleeces with me. Ye shall raise none such
in Upmeads."
Ralph sat silent a little, as if pondering, and then he started up and
said: "Good master Clement, we have eaten thy meat and thank thee for
that and other matters. Wilt thou now be kinder, and bid thy boy bring
round Falcon our horse; for we have far to go, and must begone
straight-away."
"Yea, lord," said Clement, "even so will I do." And he muttered under
his breath; "Thou talkest big, my lad, with thy 'we'; but thou art
pressed lest Nicholas be here presently to fetch thee back; and to say
sooth I would his hand were on thy shoulder even now."
Then he spake aloud again, and said:
"I must now begone to my lads, and I will send one round with thy
war-horse. But take my rede, my lord, and become the man of the Abbot
of St. Mary's of Higham, and all will be well."
Therewith he edged himself out of the chamber, and the dame fell to
making a mighty clatter with the vessel and trenchers and cups on the
board, while Ralph walked up and down the chamber his war-gear jingling
upon him. Presently the dame left her table-clatter and came up to
Ralph and looked kindly into his face and said: "Gossip, hast thou
perchance any money?"
He flushed up red, and then his face fell; yet he spake gaily: "Yea,
gossip, I have both white and red: there are three golden crowns in my
pouch, and a little flock of silver pennies: forsooth I say not as many
as would reach from here to Upmeads, if they were laid one after the
other."
She smiled and patted his cheek, and said:
"Thou art no very prudent child, king's son. But it comes into my mind
that my master did not mean thee to go away empty-handed; else had he
not departed and left us twain together."
Therewith she went to the credence that stood in a corner, and opened a
drawer therein and took out a little bag, and gave it into Ralph's
hand, and said: "This is the gift of the gossip; and thou mayst take
it without shame; all the more because if thy father had been a worser
man, and a harder lord he would have had more to give thee. But now
thou hast as much or more as any one of thy brethren."
He took the bag smiling and shame-faced, but she looked on him fondly
and said:
"Now I know not whether I shall lay old Nicholas on thine heels when he
cometh after thee, as come he will full surely; or whether I shall
suffer the old sleuth-hound nose out thy slot of himself, as full
surely he will set on to it."
"Thou mightest tell him," said Ralph, "that I am gone to take service
with the Abbot of St. Mary's of Higham: hah?"
She laughed and said: "Wilt thou do so, lord, and follow the rede of
that goodman of mine, who thinketh himself as wise as Solomon?"
Ralph smiled and answered her nothing.
"Well," she said, "I shall say what likes me when the hour is at hand.
Lo, here! thine horse. Abide yet a moment of time, and then go whither
thou needs must, like the wind of the summer day."
Therewith she went out of the chamber and came back again with a scrip
which she gave to Ralph and said: "Herein is a flask of drink for the
waterless country, and a little meat for the way. Fare thee well,
gossip! Little did I look for it when I rose up this morning and
nothing irked me save the dulness of our town, and the littleness of
men's doings therein, that I should have to cut off a piece of my life
from me this morning, and say, farewell gossip, as now again I do."
Therewith she kissed him on either cheek and embraced him; and it might
be said of her and him that she let him go thereafter; for though as
aforesaid he loved her, and praised her kindness, he scarce understood
the eagerness of her love for him; whereas moreover she saw him not so
often betwixt Upmeads and Wulstead: and belike she herself scarce
understood it. Albeit she was a childless woman.
So when he had got to horse, she watched him riding a moment, and saw
how he waved his hand to her as he turned the corner of the
market-place, and how a knot of lads and lasses stood staring on him
after she lost sight of him. Then she turned her back into the chamber
and laid her head on the table and wept. Then came in the goodman
quietly and stood by her and she heeded him not. He stood grinning
curiously on her awhile, and then laid his hand on her shoulder, and
said as she raised her face to him:
"Sweetheart, it availeth nought; when thou wert young and exceeding
fair, he was but a little babe, and thou wert looking in those days to
have babes of thine own; and then it was too soon: and now that he is
such a beauteous young man, and a king's son withal, and thou art
wedded to a careful carle of no weak heart, and thou thyself art more
than two-score years old, it is too late. Yet thou didst well to give
our lord the money. Lo! here is wherewithal to fill up the lack in thy
chest; and here is a toy for thee in place of the pair of beads thou
gavest him; and I bid thee look on it as if I had given him my share of
the money and the beads."
She turned to Clement, and took the bag of money, and the chaplet which
he held out to her, and she said: "God wot thou art no ill man, my
husband, but would God I had a son like to him!"
She still wept somewhat; but the chapman said: "Let it rest there,
sweetheart! let it rest there! It may be a year or twain before thou
seest him again: and then belike he shall be come back with some woman
whom he loves better than any other; and who knows but in a way he may
deem himself our son. Meanwhile thou hast done well, sweetheart, so be
glad."
Therewith he kissed her and went his ways to his merchandize, and she
to the ordering of her house, grieved but not unhappy.
CHAPTER 4
Ralph Rideth the Downs
As for Ralph, he rode on with a merry heart, and presently came to an
end of the plain country, and the great downs rose up before him with a
white road winding up to the top of them. Just before the slopes began
to rise was a little thorp beside a stream, and thereby a fair church
and a little house of Canons: so Ralph rode toward the church to see if
therein were an altar of St. Nicholas, who was his good lord and
patron, that he might ask of him a blessing on his journey. But as he
came up to the churchyard-gate he saw a great black horse tied thereto
as if abiding some one; and as he lighted down from his saddle he saw a
man coming hastily from out the church-door and striding swiftly toward
the said gate. He was a big man, and armed; for he had a bright steel
sallet on his head, which covered his face all save the end of his
chin; and plates he had on his legs and arms. He wore a green coat
over his armour, and thereon was wrought in gold an image of a tree
leafless: he had a little steel axe about his neck, and a great sword
hung by his side. Ralph stood looking on him with his hand on the
latch of the gate, but when the man came thereto he tore it open
roughly and shoved through at once, driving Ralph back, so that he
well-nigh overset him, and so sprang to his horse and swung himself
into the saddle, just as Ralph steadied himself and ruffled up to him,
half drawing his sword from the scabbard the while. But the
man-at-arms cried out, "Put it back, put it back! If thou must needs
deal with every man that shoveth thee in his haste, thy life is like to
be but short."
He was settling himself in his saddle as he spoke, and now he shook his
rein, and rode off speedily toward the hill-road. But when he was so
far off that Ralph might but see his face but as a piece of reddish
colour, he reined up for a moment of time, and turning round in his
saddle lifted up his sallet and left his face bare, and cried out as if
to Ralph, "The first time!" And then let the head-piece fall again, and
set spurs to his horse and gallopped away.
Ralph stood looking at him as he got smaller on the long white road,
and wondering what this might mean, and how the unknown man should know
him, if he did know him. But presently he let his wonder run off him,
and went his ways into the church, wherein he found his good lord and
friend St. Nicholas, and so said a paternoster before his altar, and
besought his help, and made his offering; and then departed and gat to
horse again, and rode softly the way to the downs, for the day was hot.
The way was steep and winding, with a hollow cup of the hills below it,
and above it a bent so steep that Ralph could see but a few yards of it
on his left hand; but when he came to the hill's brow and could look
down on the said bent, he saw strange figures on the face thereof, done
by cutting away the turf so that the chalk might show clear. A tree
with leaves was done on that hill-side, and on either hand of it a
beast like a bear ramping up against the tree; and these signs were
very ancient. This hill-side carving could not be seen from the thorp
beneath, which was called Netherton, because the bent looked westward
down into the hollow of the hill abovesaid; but from nigher to Wulstead
they were clear to see, and Ralph had often beheld them, but never so
nigh: and that hill was called after them Bear Hill. At the top of it
was an earth-work of the ancient folk, which also was called Bear
Castle. And now Ralph rode over the hill's brow into it; for the walls
had been beaten down in places long and long ago.
Now he rode up the wall, and at the topmost of it turned and looked
aback on the blue country which he had ridden through stretching many a
league below, and tried if he could pick out Upmeads from amongst the
diverse wealth of the summer land: but Upmeads Water was hidden, and he
could see nothing to be sure of to tell him whereabouts the High House
stood; yet he deemed that he could make out the Debateable Wood and the
hills behind it well enough. Then he turned his horse about, and had
the down-country before him; long lines of hills to wit, one rising
behind the other like the waves of a somewhat quiet sea: no trees
thereon, nor houses that he might see thence: nought but a green road
that went waving up and down before him greener than the main face of
the slopes.
He looked at it all for a minute or two as the south-west wind went
past his ears, and played a strange tune on the innumerable stems of
the bents and the hard-stalked blossoms, to which the bees sang
counterpoint. Then the heart arose within him, and he drew the sword
from the scabbard, and waved it about his head, and shook it toward the
south, and cried out, "Now, welcome world, and be thou blessed from one
end to the other, from the ocean sea to the uttermost mountains!"
A while he held the white steel in his fist, and then sheathed the
blade, and rode down soberly over the turf bridge across the ancient
fosse, and so came on to the green road made many ages before by an
ancient people, and so trotted south along fair and softly.
Little is to be told of his journey through the downs: as he topped a
low hill whereon were seven grave-mounds of the ancient folk in a row,
he came on a shepherd lying amidst of his sheep: the man sprang to his
feet when he heard horse-hoofs anigh him and saw the glint of steel,
and he set his hand to a short spear which lay by him; but when he saw
nought but Ralph, and heard how he gave him the sele of the day, he
nodded his head in a friendly way, though he said nought in salutation;
for the loneliness of the downs made the speech slow within him.
Again some two miles further on Ralph met a flock of sheep coming down
a bent which the road climbed, and with them were three men, their
drovers, and they drew nigh him as he was amidst of the sheep, so that
he could scarce see the way. Each of these three had a weapon; one a
pole-axe, another a long spear, and the third a flail jointed and bound
with iron, and an anlace hanging at his girdle. So they stood in the
way and hailed him when the sheep were gone past; and the man with the
spear asked him whither away. "I am turned toward Higham-on-the-Way,"
quoth he; "and how many miles shall I ride ere I get there?"
Said one of them: "Little less than twenty, lord." Now it was past
noon two hours, and the day was hot; so whereas the faces of the men
looked kind and friendly, albeit somewhat rugged, he lighted down from
his horse and sat down by the way-side, and drew his bottle of good
wine from out of his wallet, and asked the men if they were in haste.
"Nay, master," said he of the pole-axe, while all eyes turned to the
bottle, "HE has gone by too long; and will neither meddle with us, nor
may we deal with him."
"Well then," quoth Ralph, "there is time for bever. Have ye ought of a
cup, that we may drink to each other?"
"Yea," said the carle with the anlace, "that have I." Therewith he drew
from his pouch a ram's horn rimmed with silver, and held it up, and
said as if he were speaking to it: "Now, Thirly, rejoice! for ye shall
have lord's wine poured into thy maw."
Therewith he held it out toward Ralph, who laughed and filled it up,
and filled for himself a little silver cup which he carried, and said:
"To you, shepherds! Much wool and little cry!" And he drank withal.
"And I," quoth the man with the horn, "call this health; Much cry and
little wool!"
"Well, well, how mean ye by that, Greasy Wat?" said the man with the
spear, taking the horn as he spake; "that is but a poor wish for a lord
that drinketh out of our cup."
Said Wat: "Why, neighbour, why! thy wit is none too hasty. The wool
that a knight sheareth is war and battle; that is wounding and death;
but the cry is the talk and boasting and minstrelsy that goeth before
all this. Which is the best wish to wish him? the wounds and the
death, or the fore-rumour and stir thereof which hurteth no man?"
Ralph laughed thereat, and was merry and blithe with them; but the
spearman, who was an old man, said:
"For all Wat sayeth, lord, and his japes, ye must not misdeem of us
that we shepherds of the Downs can do nought but run to ales and
feasts, and that we are but pot-valiant: maybe thou thyself mayst live
to see things go otherwise: and in that day may we have such as thee
for captain. Now, fair lord, I drink to thy crown of valour, and thy
good luck; and we thank thee for the wine and yet more for the blithe
fellowship."
So Ralph filled up the ram's horn till Dame Katherine's good island
wine was well-nigh spent; and at last he said:
"Now, my masters, I must to horse; but I pray you tell or we depart,
what did ye mean when ye said that HE had gone past? Who is HE?"
The merry faces of the men changed at his word, and they looked in each
other's faces, till at last the old spearman answered him:
"Fair lord, these things we have little will to talk about: for we be
poor men with no master to fleece us, and no lord to help us: also we
be folk unlearned and unlettered, and from our way of life, whereas we
dwell in the wilderness, we seldom come within the doors of a church.
But whereas we have drunk with thee, who seemest to be a man of
lineage, and thou hast been blithe with us, we will tell thee that we
have seen one riding south along the Greenway, clad in a coat as green
as the way, with the leafless tree done on his breast. So nigh to him
we were that we heard his cry as he sped along, as ye may hear the
lapwing whining; for he said: 'POINT AND EDGE, POINT AND EDGE! THE RED
WATER AMIDST OF THE HILLS!' In my lifetime such a man hath, to my
knowledge, been seen thrice before; and after each sight of him
followed evil days and the death of men. Moreover this is the Eve of
St. John, and we deem the token the worse therefor. Or how deemest
thou?"
Ralph stood silent awhile; for he was thinking of the big man whom he
had met at the churchyard gate, and all this tale seemed wonderful to
him. But at last he said:
"I cannot tell what there is in it; herein am I no help to you. To-day
I am but little; though I may one day be great. Yet this may I do for
you; tomorrow will I let sing a mass in St. Mary's Church on your
behoof. And hereafter, if I wax as my will is, and I come to be lord
in these lands, I will look to it to do what a good lord should do for
the shepherds of the Downs, so that they may live well, and die in good
hope. So may the Mother of God help me at need!"
Said the old shepherd: "Thou hast sworn an oath, and it is a good
oath, and well sworn. Now if thou dost as thou swearest, words can but
little thanks, yet deeds may. Wherefore if ever thou comest back
hither, and art in such need that a throng of men may help thee
therein; then let light a great fire upon each corner of the topmost
wall of Bear Castle, and call to mind this watch-word: 'SMITE ASIDE THE
AXE, O BEAR-FATHER,' and then shalt thou see what shall betide thee for
thy good-hap: farewell now, with the saints to aid!"
Ralph bade them live well and hail, and mounted his horse and rode off
down the Greenway, and as he rode the shepherds waved their weapons to
him in token of good-will.
CHAPTER 5
Ralph Cometh to Higham-on-the-Way
Nought more befell Ralph to tell of till he came to the end of the
Downs and saw Higham lying below him overlooked by a white castle on a
knoll, and with a river lapping it about and winding on through its
fair green meadows even as Clement had told. From amidst its houses
rose up three towers of churches above their leaden roofs, and high
above all, long and great, the Abbey Church; and now was the low sun
glittering on its gilded vanes and the wings of the angels high upon
the battlements.
So Ralph rode down the slopes and was brisk about it, for it was
drawing toward sunset, and he knew not at what hour they shut their
gates. The road was steep and winding, and it was the more part of an
hour ere he came to the gate, which was open, and like to be yet, for
many folk were thronging in, which throng also had hindered him soon
after he came into the plain country. The gate was fair and strong,
but Ralph saw no men-at-arms about it that evening. He rode into the
street unquestioned, and therein was the throng great of people clad in
fair and gay attire; and presently Ralph called to mind that this was
St. John's Eve, so that he knew that there was some feast toward.
At last the throng was so thick that he was stayed by it; and
therewithal a religious who was beside him and thrust up against his
horse, turned to him and gave him good even, and said: "By thy weapons
and gear thou art a stranger here in our burg, Sir Knight?"
"So it is," said Ralph.
"And whither away?" said the monk; "hast thou some kinsman or friend in
the town?"
"Nay," said Ralph, "I seek a good hostelry where I may abide the night
for my money."
The monk shook his head and said: "See ye the folk? It is holiday
time, and midsummer after haysel. Ye shall scarce get lodging outside
our house. But what then? Come thou thither straightway and have
harbour of the best, and see our prior, who loveth young and brisk
men-at-arms like to thee. Lo now! the throng openeth a little; I will
walk by thy bridle and lead thee the shortest road thither."
Ralph gainsaid him not, and they bored through the throng of the street
till they came into the market-square, which was very great and clean,
paved with stones all over: tall and fair houses rose up on three
sides of it, and on the fourth was the Great Church which made those
houses seem but low: most of it was new-built; for the lord Abbot that
then was, though he had not begun it, had taken the work up from his
forerunner and had pushed it forward all he might; for he was very
rich, and an open-handed man. Like dark gold it showed under the
evening sun, and the painted and gilded imagery shone like jewels upon
it.
"Yea," said the monk, as he noted Ralph's wonder at this wonder; "a
most goodly house it is, and happy shall they be that dwell there."
Therewith he led Ralph on, turning aside through the great square.
Ralph saw that there were many folk therein, though it was too big to
be thronged thick with them. Amidst of it was now a great pile of wood
hung about with flowers, and hard by it a stage built up with hangings
of rich cloth on one side thereof. He asked the monk what this might
mean, and he told him the wood was for the Midsummer bale-fire, and the
stage for the show that should come thereafter. So the brother led
Ralph down a lane to the south of the great west door, and along the
side of the minster and so came to the Abbey gate, and there was Ralph
well greeted, and had all things given him which were due to a good
knight; and then was he brought into the Guest-hall, a very fair
chamber, which was now full of men of all degrees. He was shown to a
seat on the dais within two of the subprior's, and beside him sat an
honourable lord, a vassal of St. Mary's. So was supper served well and
abundantly: the meat and drink was of the best, and the vessel and all
the plenishing was as good as might be; and the walls of that chamber
were hung with noble arras-cloth picturing the Pilgrimage of the Soul
of Man.
Every man there who spoke with Ralph, and they were many, was exceeding
courteous to him; and he heard much talk about him of the wealth of the
lands of St. Mary's at Higham, and how it was flourishing; and of the
Abbot how mighty he was, so that he might do what he would, and that
his will was to help and to give, and be blithe with all men: and folk
told of turmoil and war in other lands, and praised the peace of
Higham-on-the-Way.
Ralph listened to all this, and smiled, and said to himself that to
another man this might well be the end of his journey for that time;
but for him all this peace and well-being was not enough; for though it
were a richer land than Upmeads, yet to the peace and the quiet he was
well used, and he had come forth not for the winning of fatter peace,
but to try what new thing his youth and his might and his high hope and
his good hap might accomplish.
So when the supper was over, and the wine and spices had been brought,
the Guest-hall began to thin somewhat, and the brother who had brought
Ralph thither came to him and said:
"Fair lord, it were nowise ill if ye went forth, as others of our
guests have done, to see the deeds of Midsummer Eve that shall be done
in the great square in honour of Holy John; for our manner therein at
Higham has been much thought of. Look my son!"
He pointed to the windows of the hall therewith, and lo! they grew
yellow and bright with some fire without, as if a new fiery day had
been born out of the dusk of the summer night; for the light that shone
through the windows out-did the candle-light in the hall. Ralph
started thereat and laid his right hand to the place of his sword,
which indeed he had left with the chamberlain; but the monk laughed and
said: "Fear nothing, lord; there is no foeman in Higham: come now,
lest thou be belated of the show."
So he led Ralph forth, and into the square, where there was a space
appointed for the brethren and their guests to see the plays; and the
square was now so full of folk that it seemed like as if that there
were no one man in the streets which were erewhile so thronged.
There were rows of men-at-arms in bright armour also to keep the folk
in their places, like as hurdles pen the sheep up; howbeit they were
nowise rough with folk, but humble and courteous. Many and many were
the torches and cressets burning steadily in the calm air, so that, as
aforesaid, night was turned into day. But on the scaffold aforesaid
were standing bright and gay figures, whose names or what they were
Ralph had no time to ask.
Now the bells began to clash from the great tower of the minster, and
in a little while they had clashed themselves into order and rang clear
and tuneably for a space; and while they were ringing, lo! those
gay-clad people departed from the scaffold, and a canvas painted like a
mountain-side, rocky and with caves therein, was drawn up at the back
of it. Then came thereon one clad like a king holding a fair maiden by
the hand, and with him was a dame richly clad and with a crown on her
head. So these two kissed the maiden, and lamented over her, and went
their ways, and the maiden left alone sat down upon a rock and covered
up her face and wept; and while Ralph wondered what this might mean, or
what grieved the maiden, there came creeping, as it were from out of a
cranny of the rocks, a worm huge-headed and covered over with scales
that glittered in the torch-light. Then Ralph sprang up in his place,
for he feared for the maiden that the worm would devour her: but the
monk who sat by him pulled him down by the skirt, and laughed and said:
"Sit still, lord! for the champion also has been provided."
Then Ralph sat down again somewhat abashed and looked on; yet was his
heart in his mouth the while. And so while the maiden stood as one
astonied before the worm, who gaped upon her with wide open mouth,
there came forth from a cleft in the rocks a goodly knight who bore
silver, a red cross; and he had his sword in his hand, and he fell upon
the worm to smite him; and the worm ramped up against him, and there
was battle betwixt them, while the maiden knelt anigh with her hands
clasped together.
Then Ralph knew that this was a play of the fight of St. George with
the worm; so he sat silent till the champion had smitten off the worm's
head and had come to the maiden and kissed and embraced her, and shown
her the grisly head. Then presently came many folk on to the scaffold,
to wit, the king and queen who were the father and mother of the
maiden, and a bishop clad in very fair vestments, and knights withal;
and they stood about St. George and the maiden, and with them were
minstrels who fell to playing upon harps and fiddles; while other some
fell to singing a sweet song in honour of St. George, and the maiden
delivered.
So when it was all done, the monk said: "This play is set forth by the
men-at-arms of our lord Abbot, who have great devotion toward St.
George, and he is their friend and their good lord. But hereafter will
be other plays, of wild men and their feasting in the woods in the
Golden Age of the world; and that is done by the scribes and the
limners. And after that will be a pageant of St. Agnes ordered by the
clothiers and the webbers, which be both many and deft in this good
town. Albeit thou art a young man and hast ridden far to-day belike,
and mayhappen thou wilt not be able to endure it: so it may be well to
bring thee out of this throng straightway. Moreover I have bethought
me, that there is much of what is presently to come which we shall see
better from the minster roof, or even it may be from the tower: wilt
thou come then?"
Ralph had liefer have sat there and seen all the plays to the end, for
they seemed to him exceeding fair, and like to ravish the soul from the
body; howbeit, being shamefaced, he knew not how to gainsay the
brother, who took him by the hand, and led him through the press to the
west front of the minster, where on the north side was a little door in
a nook. So they went up a stair therein a good way till they came into
a gallery over the western door; and looking forth thence Ralph deemed
that he could have seen a long way had daylight been, for it was higher
than the tops of the highest houses.
So there they abode a space looking down on the square and its throng,
and the bells, which had been ringing when they came up, now ceased a
while. But presently there arose great shouts and clamour amongst the
folk below, and they could see men with torches drawing near to the
pile of wood, and then all of a sudden shot up from it a great spiring
flame, and all the people shouted together, while the bells broke out
again over their heads.
Then the brother pointed aloof with his finger and said: "Lo you! fair
lord, how bale speaks to bale all along the headlands of the
down-country, and below there in the thorps by the river!"
Forsooth Ralph saw fire after fire break out to the westward; and the
brother said: "And if we stood over the high altar and looked east, ye
would see more of such fires and many more; and all these bales are
piled up and lighted by vassals and villeins of my lord Abbot: now
to-night they are but mere Midsummer bale-fires; but doubt ye not that
if there came war into the land each one of these bales would mean at
least a half-score of stout men, archers and men-at-arms, all ready to
serve their lord at all adventure. All this the tyrants round about,
that hate holy Church and oppress the poor, know full well; therefore
we live in peace in these lands."
Ralph hearkened, but said nought; for amidst all this flashing of fire
and flame, and the crying out of folk, and the measured clash of the
bells so near him, his thought was confused, and he had no words ready
to hand. But the monk turned from the parapet and looked him full in
the face and said to him:
"Thou art a fair young man, and strong, and of gentle blood as I deem;
and thou seemest to me to have the lucky look in thine eyes: now I tell
thee that if thou wert to take service with my lord thou shouldest
never rue it. Yea, why shouldest thou not wax in his service, and
become his Captain of Captains, which is an office meet for kings?"
Ralph looked on him, but answered nought, for he could not gather his
thoughts for an answer; and the brother said: "Think of it, I bid thee,
fair young lord; and be sure that nowhere shalt thou have a better
livelihood, not even wert thou a king's son; for the children of my
lord Abbot are such that none dareth to do them any displeasure;
neither is any overlord as good as is Holy Church."
"Yea," said Ralph, "doubtless thou sayest sooth; yet I wot not that I
am come forth to seek a master."
Said the brother: "Nay, do but see the lord Abbot, as thou mayst do
to-morrow, if thou wilt."
"I would have his blessing," said Ralph.
"No less shalt thou have," said the brother; "but look you down yonder;
for I can see tokens that my lord is even now coming forth."
Ralph looked down and beheld the folk parting to right and left, and a
lane made amidst the throng, guarded by men-at-arms mingled with the
cross-bearers and brethren; and the sound of trumpets blared forth over
the noises of the throng.
"If the lord Abbot cometh," said Ralph, "I were fain of his blessing
to-night before I sleep: so go we down straightway that I may kneel
before him with the rest."
"What!" said the monk, "Wilt thou, my lord, kneel amongst all these
burgesses and vavassors when thou mightest see the Abbot in his own
chamber face to face alone with him?"
"Father," said Ralph, "I am no great man, and I must needs depart
betimes to-morrow; for I perceive that here are things too mighty and
over-mastering for such as I be."
"Well," said the monk, "yet mayst thou come back again; so at present I
will make no more words about it."
So they went down, and came out amidst the throng, above which the bale
still flared high, making the summer night as light as day. The
brother made way for Ralph, so that they stood in the front row of
folk: they had not been there one minute ere they heard the sound of
the brethren singing, and the Abbot came forth out of the lane that
went down to the gate. Then all folk went down upon their knees, and
thus abode him. Right so Ralph deemed that he felt some one pull his
sleeve, but in such a throng that was nought of a wonder; howbeit, he
turned and looked to his left, whence came the tug, and saw kneeling
beside him a tall man-at-arms, who bore a sallet on his head in such
wise that it covered all his face save the point of his chin. Then
Ralph bethought him of the man of the leafless tree, and he looked to
see what armoury the man bore on his coat; but he had nothing save a
loose frock of white linen over his hauberk. Nevertheless, he heard a
voice in his ear, which said, "The second time!" whereon he deemed that
it was verily that same man: yet had he nought to do to lay hold on
him, and he might not speak with him, for even therewith came the Abbot
in garments all of gold, going a-foot under a canopy of baudekyn, with
the precious mitre on his head, and the crozier borne before him, as if
he had been a patriarch: for he was an exceeding mighty lord.
Ralph looked hard on him as he passed by, blessing the folk with
upraised hand; and he saw that he was a tall spare man, clean-shaven,
and thin-faced; but no old man, belike scarce of fifty winters. Ralph
caught his eye, and he smiled on the goodly young man so kindly, that
for a moment Ralph deemed that he would dwell in St. Mary's House for a
little while; for, thought he, if my father, or Nicholas, hear of me
therein, they must even let me alone to abide here.
Therewith the Abbot went forth to his place, and sat him down under a
goodly cloth of estate, and folk stood up again; but when Ralph looked
for the man in the sallet he could see nought of him. Now when the
Abbot was set down, men made a clear ring round about the bale, and
there came into the said ring twelve young men, each clad in nought
save a goat-skin, and with garlands of leaves and flowers about their
middles: they had with them a wheel done about with straw and hemp
payed with pitch and brimstone. They set fire to the same, and then
trundled it blazing round about the bale twelve times. Then came to
them twelve damsels clad in such-like guise as the young men: then
both bands, the young men and the maidens, drew near to the bale, which
was now burning low, and stood about it, and joined hands, and so
danced round it a while, and meantime the fiddles played an uncouth
tune merrily: then they sundered, and each couple of men and maids
leapt backward and forward over the fire; and when they had all leapt,
came forward men with buckets of water which they cast over the dancers
till it ran down them in streams. Then was all the throng mingled
together, and folk trod the embers of the bale under foot, and
scattered them hither and thither all over the square.
All this while men were going about with pitchers of wine and ale, and
other good drinks; and every man drank freely what he would, and there
was the greatest game and joyance.
But now was Ralph exceeding weary, and he said: "Father, mightest thou
lead me out of this throng, and show me some lair where I may sleep in
peace, I would thank thee blithely."
As he spake there sounded a great horn over the square, and the Abbot
rose in his place and blessed all the people once more. Then said the
monk:
"Come then, fair field-lord, now shalt thou have thy will of bed." And
he laughed therewith, and drew Ralph out of the throng and brought him
into the Abbey, and into a fair little chamber, on the wall whereof was
pictured St. Christopher, and St. Julian the lord and friend of
wayfarers. Then he brought Ralph the wine and spices, and gave him
good-night, and went his ways.
As Ralph put the raiment from off him he said to himself: a long day
forsooth, so long that I should have thought no day could have held all
that has befallen me. So many strange things have I seen, that surely
my dreams shall be full of them; for even now I seem to see them,
though I waken.
So he lay down in his bed and slept, and dreamed that he was fishing
with an angle in a deep of Upmeads Water; and he caught many fish; but
after a while whatsoever he caught was but of gilded paper stuffed with
wool, and at last the water itself was gone, and he was casting his
angle on to a dry road. Therewith he awoke and saw that day was
dawning, and heard the minster clock strike three, and heard the
thrushes singing their first song in the Prior's garden. Then he
turned about and slept, and dreamed no more till he woke up in the
bright sunny morning.
CHAPTER 6
Ralph Goeth His Ways From the Abbey of St. Mary at Higham
It was the monk who had been his guide the day before who had now waked
him, and he stood by the bedside holding a great bowl of milk in his
hand, and as Ralph sat up, and rubbed his eyes, with all his youthful
sloth upon him, the monk laughed and said:
"That is well, lord, that is well! I love to see a young man so sleepy
in the morning; it is a sign of thriving; and I see thou art thriving
heartily for the time when thou shalt come back to us to lead my lord's
host in battle."
"Where be the bale-fires?" said Ralph, not yet fully awake.
"Where be they!" said the brother, "where be they! They be sunken to
cold coals long ago, like many a man's desires and hopes, who hath not
yet laid his head on the bosom of the mother, that is Holy Church.
Come, my lord, arise, and drink the monk's wine of morning, and then if
ye must need ride, ride betimes, and ride hard; for the Wood Perilous
beginneth presently as ye wend your ways; and it were well for thee to
reach the Burg of the Four Friths ere thou be benighted. For, son,
there be untoward things in the wood; and though some of them be of
those for whom Christ's Cross was shapen, yet have they forgotten hell,
and hope not for heaven, and their by-word is, 'Thou shalt lack ere I
lack.' Furthermore there are worse wights in the wood than they be--
God save us!--but against them have I a good hauberk, a neck-guard
which I will give thee, son, in token that I look to see thee again at
the lovely house of Mary our Mother."
Ralph had taken the bowl and was drinking, but he looked over the brim,
and saw how the monk drew from his frock a pair of beads, as like to
Dame Katherine's gift as one pea to another, save that at the end
thereof was a little box shapen crosswise. Ralph emptied the bowl
hastily, got out of bed, and sat on the bed naked, save that on his
neck was Dame Katherine's gift. He reached out his hand and took the
beads from the monk and reddened therewith, as was his wont when he had
to begin a contest in words: but he said:
"I thank thee, father; yet God wot if these beads will lie sweetly
alongside the collar which I bear on my neck as now, which is the gift
of a dear friend."
The monk made up a solemn countenance and said: "Thou sayest sooth, my
son; it is most like that my chaplet, which hath been blessed time was
by the holy Richard, is no meet fellow for the gift of some light love
of thine: or even," quoth he, noting Ralph's flush deepen, and his brow
knit, "or even if it were the gift of a well-willer, yet belike it is a
worldly gift; therefore, since thy journey is with peril, thou wert
best do it off and let me keep it for thee till thou comest again."
Now as he spake he looked anxiously, nay, it may be said greedily, at
the young man. But Ralph said nought; for in his heart he was
determined not to chaffer away his gossip's gift for any shaveling's
token. Yet he knew not how to set his youthful words against the
father's wisdom; so he stood up, and got his shirt into his hand, and
as he did it over his head he fell to singing to himself a song of
eventide of the High House of Upmeads, the words whereof were somewhat
like to these:
Art thou man, art thou maid, through the long grass a-going?
For short shirt thou bearest, and no beard I see,
And the last wind ere moonrise about thee is blowing.
Would'st thou meet with thy maiden or look'st thou for me?
Bright shineth the moon now, I see thy gown longer;
And down by the hazels Joan meeteth her lad:
But hard is thy palm, lass, and scarcely were stronger
Wat's grip than thine hand-kiss that maketh me glad.
And now as the candles shine on us and over,
Full shapely thy feet are, but brown on the floor,
As the bare-footed mowers amidst of the clover
When the gowk's note is broken and mid-June is o'er.
O hard are mine hand-palms because on the ridges
I carried the reap-hook and smote for thy sake;
And in the hot noon-tide I beat off the midges
As thou slep'st 'neath the linden o'er-loathe to awake.
And brown are my feet now because the sun burneth
High up on the down-side amidst of the sheep,
And there in the hollow wherefrom the wind turneth,
Thou lay'st in my lap while I sung thee to sleep.
O friend of the earth, O come nigher and nigher,
Thou art sweet with the sun's kiss as meads of the May,
O'er the rocks of the waste, o'er the water and fire,
Will I follow thee, love, till earth waneth away.
The monk hearkened to him with knitted brow, and as one that liketh not
the speech of his fellow, though it be not wise to question it: then he
went out of the chamber, but left the pair of beads lying in the
window. But Ralph clad himself in haste, and when he was fully clad,
went up to the window and took the beads in his hand, and looked into
them curiously and turned them over, but left them lying there. Then
he went forth also, and came into the forecourt of the house, and found
there a squire of the men-at-arms with his weapons and horse, who
helped him to do on his war-gear.
So then, just as he was setting his foot in the stirrup, came the
Brother again, with his face once more grown smiling and happy; and in
his left hand he held the chaplet, but did not offer it to Ralph again,
but nodded his head to him kindly, and said: "Now, lord, I can see by
thy face that thou art set on beholding the fashion of this world, and
most like it will give thee the rue."
Then came a word into Ralph's mouth, and he said: "Wilt thou tell me,
father, whose work was the world's fashion?"
The monk reddened, but answered nought, and Ralph spake again:
"Forsooth, did the craftsman of it fumble over his work?"
Then the monk scowled, but presently he enforced himself to speak
blithely, and said: "Such matters are over high for my speech or
thine, lord; but I tell thee, who knoweth, that there are men in this
House who have tried the world and found it wanting."
Ralph smiled, and said stammering:
"Father, did the world try them, and find them wanting perchance?"
Then he reddened, and said: "Are ye verily all such as this in this
House? Who then is it who hath made so fair a lordship, and so goodly
a governance for so many people? Know ye not at all of the world's
ways!"
"Fair sir," said the monk sternly, "they that work for us work for the
Lord and all his servants."
"Yea," said Ralph, "so it is; and will the Lord be content with the
service of him whom the devil hath cast out because he hath found him a
dastard?"
The monk frowned, yet smiled somewhat withal, and said: "Sir, thou art
young, but thy wits are over old for me; but there are they in this
House who may answer thee featly; men who have read the books of the
wise men of the heathen, and the doctors of Holy Church, and are even
now making books for the scribes to copy." Then his voice softened,
and he said: "Dear lord, we should be right fain of thee here, but
since thou must needs go, go with my blessing, and double blessing
shalt thou have when thou comest back to us." Then Ralph remembered
his promise to the shepherds and took a gold crown from his pouch, and
said: "Father, I pray thee say a mass for the shepherd downsmen; and
this is for the offering."
The monk praised the gift and the bidding, and kissed Ralph, who clomb
into his saddle; and the brother hospitalier brought him his wallet
with good meat and drink therein for the way. Then Ralph shook his
rein, and rode out of the abbey-gate, smiling at the lay-brethren and
the men-at-arms who hung about there.
But he sighed for pleasure when he found himself in the street again,
and looked on the shops of the chapmen and the booths of the petty
craftsmen, as shoe-smiths and glovers, and tinsmiths and coppersmiths,
and horners and the like; and the folk that he met as he rode toward
the southern gate seemed to him merry and in good case, and goodly to
look on. And he thought it pleasant to gaze on the damsels in the
street, who were fair and well clad: and there were a many of them
about his way now, especially as he drew nigh the gate before the
streets branched off: for folk were coming in from the countryside with
victual and other wares for the town and the Abbey; and surely as he
looked on some of the maidens he deemed that Hall-song of Upmeads a
good one.
CHAPTER 7
The Maiden of Bourton Abbas
So went he through the gate, and many, both of men and maids gazed at
him, for he was fair to look on, but none meddled with him.
There was a goodly fauburg outside the gate, and therein were fair
houses, not a few, with gardens and orchards about them; and when these
were past he rode through very excellent meadows lying along the water,
which he crossed thrice, once by a goodly stone bridge and twice by
fords; for the road was straight, and the river wound about much.
After a little while the road led him off the plain meads into a
country of little hills and dales, the hill-sides covered with
vineyards and orchards, and the dales plenteous of corn-fields; and now
amongst these dales Higham was hidden from him.
Through this tillage and vine-land he rode a good while, and thought he
had never seen a goodlier land; and as he went he came on husbandmen
and women of the country going about their business: yet were they not
too busy to gaze on him, and most greeted him; and with some he gave
and took a little speech.
These people also he deemed well before the world, for they were well
clad and buxom, and made no great haste as they went, but looked about
them as though they deemed the world worth looking at, and as if they
had no fear either of a blow or a hard word for loitering.
So he rode till it was noon, and he was amidst a little thorp of grey
stone houses, trim enough, in a valley wherein there was more of
wild-wood trees and less of fruit-bearers than those behind him. In
the thorp was a tavern with the sign of the Nicholas, so Ralph deemed
it but right to enter a house which was under the guard of his master
and friend; therefore he lighted down and went in. Therein he found a
lad of fifteen winters, and a maiden spinning, they two alone, who
hailed him and asked his pleasure, and he bade them bring him meat and
drink, and look to his horse, for that he had a mind to rest a while.
So they brought him bread and flesh, and good wine of the hill-side, in
a little hall well arrayed as of its kind; and he sat down and the
damsel served him at table, but the lad, who had gone to see to his
horse, did not come back.
So when he had eaten and drunk, and the damsel was still there, he
looked on her and saw that she was sad and drooping of aspect; and
whereas she was a fair maiden, Ralph, now that he was full, fell to
pitying her, and asked her what was amiss. "For," said he, "thou art
fair and ailest nought; that is clear to see; neither dwellest thou in
penury, but by seeming hast enough and to spare. Or art thou a servant
in this house, and hath any one misused thee?"
She wept at his words, for indeed he spoke softly to her; then she
said: "Young lord, thou art kind, and it is thy kindness that draweth
the tears from me; else it were not well to weep before a young man:
therefore I pray thee pardon me. As for me, I am no servant, nor has
any one misused me: the folk round about are good and neighbourly; and
this house and the croft, and a vineyard hard by, all that is mine own
and my brother's; that is the lad who hath gone to tend thine horse.
Yea, and we live in peace here for the most part; for this thorp, which
is called Bourton Abbas, is a land of the Abbey of Higham; though it be
the outermost of its lands and the Abbot is a good lord and a defence
against tyrants. All is well with me if one thing were not."
"What is thy need then?" said Ralph, "if perchance I might amend it."
And as he looked on her he deemed her yet fairer than he had done at
first. But she stayed her weeping and sobbing and said: "Sir, I fear
me that I have lost a dear friend." "How then," said he, "why fearest
thou, and knowest not? doth thy friend lie sick between life and
death?" "O Sir," she said, "it is the Wood which is the evil and
disease."
"What wood is that?" said he.
She said: "The Wood Perilous, that lieth betwixt us and the Burg of
the Four Friths, and all about the Burg. And, Sir, if ye be minded to
ride to the Burg to-day, do it not, for through the wood must thou wend
thereto; and ye are young and lovely. Therefore take my rede, and
abide till the Chapmen wend thither from Higham, who ride many in
company. For, look you, fair lord, ye have asked of my grief, and this
it is and nought else; that my very earthly love and speech-friend rode
five days ago toward the Burg of the Four Friths all alone through the
Wood Perilous, and he has not come back, though we looked to see him in
three days' wearing: but his horse has come back, and the reins and
the saddle all bloody."
And she fell a-weeping with the telling of the tale. But Ralph said
(for he knew not what to say): "Keep a good heart, maiden; maybe he is
safe and sound; oft are young men fond to wander wide, even as I
myself."
She looked at him hard and said: "If thou hast stolen thyself away
from them that love thee, thou hast done amiss. Though thou art a
lord, and so fair as I see thee, yet will I tell thee so much."
Ralph reddened and answered nought; but deemed the maiden both fair and
sweet. But she said: "Whether thou hast done well or ill, do no
worse; but abide till the Chapmen come from Higham, on their way to the
Burg of the Four Friths. Here mayst thou lodge well and safely if thou
wilt. Or if our hall be not dainty enough for thee, then go back to
Higham: I warrant me the monks will give thee good guesting as long as
thou wilt."
"Thou art kind, maiden," said Ralph, "but why should I tarry for an
host? and what should I fear in the Wood, as evil as it may be? One
man journeying with little wealth, and unknown, and he no weakling, but
bearing good weapons, hath nought to dread of strong-thieves, who ever
rob where it is easiest and gainfullest. And what worse may I meet
than strong-thieves?"
"But thou mayest meet worse," she said; and therewith fell a-weeping
again, and said amidst her tears: "O weary on my life! And why should
I heed thee when nought heedeth me, neither the Saints of God's House,
nor the Master of it; nor the father and the mother that were once so
piteous kind to me? O if I might but drink a draught from the WELL AT
THE WORLD'S END!"
He turned about on her hastily at that word; for he had risen to
depart; being grieved at her grief and wishful to be away from it,
since he might not amend it. But now he said eagerly:
"Where then is that Well? Know ye of it in this land?"
"At least I know the hearsay thereof," she said; "but as now thou shalt
know no more from me thereof; lest thou wander the wider in seeking it.
I would not have thy life spilt."
Ever as he looked on her he thought her still fairer; and now he looked
long on her, saying nought, and she on him in likewise, and the blood
rose to her cheeks and her brow, but she would not turn her from his
gaze. At last he said: "Well then, I must depart, no more learned than
I came: but yet am I less hungry and thirsty than I came; and have thou
thanks therefor."
Therewith he took from his pouch a gold piece of Upmeads, which was
good, and of the touch of the Easterlings, and held it out to her. And
she put out her open hand and he put the money in it; but thought it
good to hold her hand a while, and she gainsayed him not.
Then he said: "Well then, I must needs depart with things left as they
are: wilt thou bid thy brother bring hither my horse, for time presses."
"Yea," she said (and her hand was still in his), "Yet do thine utmost,
yet shalt thou not get to the Burg before nightfall. O wilt thou not
tarry?"
"Nay," he said, "my heart will not suffer it; lest I deem myself a
dastard."
Then she reddened again, but as if she were wroth; and she drew her
hand away from his and smote her palms together thrice and cried out:
"Ho Hugh! bring hither the Knight's horse and be speedy!"
And she went hither and thither about the hall and into the buttery and
back, putting away the victual and vessels from the board and making as
if she heeded him not: and Ralph looked on her, and deemed that each
way she moved was better than the last, so shapely of fashion she was;
and again he bethought him of the Even-song of the High House at
Upmeads, and how it befitted her; for she went barefoot after the
manner of maidens who work afield, and her feet were tanned with the
sun of hay harvest, but as shapely as might be; but she was clad goodly
withal, in a green gown wrought with flowers.
So he watched her going to and fro; and at last he said: "Maiden, wilt
thou come hither a little, before I depart?"
"Yea," she said; and came and stood before him: and he deemed that she
was scarce so sad as she had been; and she stood with her hands joined
and her eyes downcast. Then he said:
"Now I depart. Yet I would say this, that I am sorry of thy sorrow:
and now since I shall never see thee more, small would be the harm if I
were to kiss thy lips and thy face."
And therewith he took her hands in his and drew her to him, and put his
arms about her and kissed her many times, and she nothing lothe by
seeming; and he found her as sweet as May blossom.
Thereafter she smiled on him, yet scarce for gladness, and said: "It is
not all so sure that I shall not see thee again; yet shall I do to thee
as thou hast done to me."
Therewith she took his face between her hands, and kissed him
well-favouredly; so that the hour seemed good to him.
Then she took him by the hand and led him out-a-doors to his horse,
whereby the lad had been standing a good while; and he when he saw his
sister come out with the fair knight he scowled on them, and handled a
knife which hung at his girdle; but Ralph heeded him nought. As for
the damsel, she put her brother aside, and held the stirrup for Ralph;
and when he was in the saddle she said to him:
"All luck go with thee! Forsooth I deem thee safer in the Wood than my
words said. Verily I deem that if thou wert to meet a company of
foemen, thou wouldest compel them to do thy bidding."
"Farewell to thee maiden," said Ralph, "and mayst thou find thy beloved
whole and well, and that speedily. Fare-well!"
She said no more; so he shook his rein and rode his ways; but looked
over his shoulder presently and saw her standing yet barefoot on the
dusty highway shading her eyes from the afternoon sun and looking after
him, and he waved his hand to her and so went his ways between the
houses of the Thorp.
CHAPTER 8
Ralph Cometh to the Wood Perilous. An Adventure Therein
Now when he was clear of the Thorp the road took him out of the dale;
and when he was on the hill's brow he saw that the land was of other
fashion from that which lay behind him. For the road went straight
through a rough waste, no pasture, save for mountain sheep or goats,
with a few bushes scattered about it; and beyond this the land rose
into a long ridge; and on the ridge was a wood thick with trees, and no
break in them. So on he rode, and soon passed that waste, which was
dry and parched, and the afternoon sun was hot on it; so he deemed it
good to come under the shadow of the thick trees (which at the first
were wholly beech trees), for it was now the hottest of the day. There
was still a beaten way between the tree-boles, though not overwide,
albeit, a highway, since it pierced the wood. So thereby he went at a
soft pace for the saving of his horse, and thought but little of all he
had been told of the perils of the way, and not a little of the fair
maid whom he had left behind at the Thorp.
After a while the thick beech-wood gave out, and he came into a place
where great oaks grew, fair and stately, as though some lord's
wood-reeve had taken care that they should not grow over close
together, and betwixt them the greensward was fine, unbroken, and
flowery. Thereby as he rode he beheld deer, both buck and hart and
roe, and other wild things, but for a long while no man.
The afternoon wore and still he rode the oak wood, and deemed it a
goodly forest for the greatest king on earth. At last he came to where
another road crossed the way he followed, and about the crossway was
the ground clearer of trees, while beyond it the trees grew thicker,
and there was some underwood of holly and thorn as the ground fell off
as towards a little dale.
There Ralph drew rein, because he doubted in his mind which was his
right road toward the Burg of the Four Friths; so he got off his horse
and abode a little, if perchance any might come by; he looked about
him, and noted on the road that crossed his, and the sward about it,
the sign of many horses having gone by, and deemed that they had passed
but a little while. So he lay on the ground to rest him and let his
horse stray about and bite the grass; for the beast loved him and would
come at his call or his whistle.
Ralph was drowsy when he lay down, and though he said to himself that
he would nowise go to sleep, yet as oft happens, he had no defence to
make against sleepiness, and presently his hands relaxed, his head fell
aside, and he slept quietly. When he woke up in a little space of
time, he knew at once that something had awaked him and that he had not
had his sleep out; for in his ears was the trampling of horse-hoofs and
the clashing of weapons and loud speech of men. So he leapt up
hastily, and while he was yet scarce awake, took to whistling on his
horse; but even therewith those men were upon him, and two came up to
him and laid hold of him; and when he asked them what they would, they
bade him hold his peace.
Now his eyes cleared, and he saw that those men were in goodly
war-gear, and bore coats of plate, and cuir-bouilly, or of bright
steel; they held long spears and were girt with good swords; there was
a pennon with them, green, whereon was done a golden tower, embattled,
amidst of four white ways; and the same token bore many of the men on
their coats and sleeves. Unto this same pennon he was brought by the
two men who had taken him, and under it, on a white horse, sat a Knight
bravely armed at all points with the Tower and Four Ways on his green
surcoat; and beside him was an ancient man-at-arms, with nought but an
oak wreath on his bare head, and his white beard falling low over his
coat: but behind these twain a tall young man, also on a white horse
and very gaily clad, upheld the pennon. On one side of these three
were five men, unarmed, clad in green coats, with a leafless tree done
on them in gold: they were stout carles, bearded and fierce-faced:
their hands were bound behind their backs and their feet tied together
under their horses' bellies. The company of those about the Knight,
Ralph deemed, would number ten score men.
So when those twain stayed Ralph before the Knight, he turned to the
old man and said:
"It is of no avail asking this lither lad if he be of them or no: for
no will be his answer. But what sayest thou, Oliver?"
The ancient man drew closer to Ralph and looked at him up and down and
all about; for those two turned him about as if he had been a joint of
flesh on the roasting-jack; and at last he said:
"His beard is sprouting, else might ye have taken him for a maid of
theirs, one of those of whom we wot. But to say sooth I seem to know
the fashion of his gear, even as Duke Jacob knew Joseph's tabard. So
ask him whence he is, lord, and if he lie, then I bid bind him and lead
him away, that we may have a true tale out of him; otherwise let him go
and take his chance; for we will not waste the bread of the Good Town
on him."
The Knight looked hard on Ralph, and spake to him somewhat courteously:
"Whence art thou, fair Sir, and what is thy name? for we have many foes
in the wildwood."
Ralph reddened as he answered: "I am of Upmeads beyond the down
country; and I pray thee let me be gone on mine errands. It is meet
that thou deal with thine own robbers and reivers, but not with me."
Then cried out one of the bounden men: "Thou liest, lad, we be no
robbers." But he of the Knight's company who stood by him smote the man
on the mouth and said: "Hold thy peace, runagate! Thou shalt give
tongue to-morrow when the hangman hath thee under his hands."
The Knight took no heed of this; but turned to the ancient warrior and
said: "Hath he spoken truth so far?"
"Yea, Sir Aymer," quoth Oliver; "And now meseems I know him better than
he knoweth me."
Therewith he turned to Ralph and said: "How fareth Long Nicholas, my
lord?"
Ralph reddened again: "He is well," said he.
Then said the Knight: "Is the young man of a worthy house, Oliver?"
But ere the elder could speak, Ralph brake in and said: "Old warrior, I
bid thee not to tell out my name, as thou lovest Nicholas."
Old Oliver laughed and said: "Well, Nicholas and I have been friends
in a way, as well as foes; and for the sake of the old days his name
shall help thee, young lord." Then he said to his Knight: "Yea, Sir
Aymer, he is of a goodly house and an ancient; but thou hearest how he
adjureth me. Ye shall let his name alone."
The Knight looked silently on Ralph for a while; then he said: "Wilt
thou wend with us to the Burg of the Four Friths, fair Sir? Wert thou
not faring thither? Or what else dost thou in the Wood Perilous?"
Ralph turned it over in his mind; and though he saw no cause why he
should not join himself to their company, yet something in his heart
forbade him to rise to the fly too eagerly; so he did but say: "I am
seeking adventures, fair lord."
The Knight smiled: "Then mayst thou fill thy budget with them if thou
goest with us," quoth he. Now Ralph did not know how he might gainsay
so many men at arms in the long run, though he were scarce willing to
go; so he made no haste to answer; and even therewith came a man
running, through the wood up from the dale; a long, lean carle, meet
for running, with brogues on his feet, and nought else but a shirt; the
company parted before him to right and left to let him come to the
Knight, as though he had been looked for; and when he was beside him,
the Knight leaned down while the carle spake softly to him and all men
drew out of ear-shot. And when the carle had given his message the
Knight drew himself straight up in his saddle again and lifted up his
hand and cried out:
"Oliver! Oliver! lead on the way thou wottest! Spur! spur, all men!"
Therewith he blew one blast from a horn which hung at his saddle-bow;
the runner leapt up behind old Oliver, and the whole company went off
at a smart trot somewhat south-east, slantwise of the cross-roads,
where the wood was nought cumbered with undergrowth; and presently they
were all gone to the last horse-tail, and no man took any more note of
Ralph.
CHAPTER 9
Another Adventure in the Wood Perilous
Ralph left alone pondered a little; and thought that he would by no
means go hastily to the Burg of the Four Friths. Said he to himself;
This want-way is all unlike to the one near our house at home: for
belike adventures shall befall here: I will even abide here for an hour
or two; but will have my horse by me and keep awake, lest something hap
to me unawares.
Therewith he whistled for Falcon his horse, and the beast came to him,
and whinnied for love of him, and Ralph smiled and tied him to a
sapling anigh, and himself sat down on the grass, and pondered many
things; as to what folk were about at Upmeads, and how his brethren
were faring; and it was now about five hours after noon, and the sun's
rays fell aslant through the boughs of the noble oaks, and the scent of
the grass and bracken trodden by the horse-hoofs of that company went
up into the warm summer air. A while he sat musing but awake, though
the faint sound of a little stream in the dale below mingled with all
the lesser noises of the forest did its best to soothe him to sleep
again: and presently had its way with him; for he leaned his head back
on the bracken, and in a minute or two was sleeping once more and
dreaming some dream made up of masterless memories of past days.
When he awoke again he lay still a little while, wondering where in the
world he was, but as the drowsiness left him, he arose and looked
about, and saw that the sun was sinking low and gilding the oakboles
red. He stood awhile and watched the gambols of three hares, who had
drawn nigh him while he slept, and now noted him not; and a little way
he saw through the trees a hart and two hinds going slowly from grass
to grass, feeding in the cool eventide; but presently he saw them raise
their heads and amble off down the slope of the little dale, and
therewith he himself turned his face sharply toward the north-west, for
he was fine-eared as well as sharp-eyed, and on a little wind which had
just arisen came down to him the sound of horse-hoofs once more.
So he went up to Falcon and loosed him, and stood by him bridle in
hand, and looked to it that his sword was handy to him: and he
hearkened, and the sound drew nigher and nigher to him. Then lightly
he got into the saddle and gathered the reins into his left hand, and
sat peering up the trodden wood-glades, lest he should have to ride for
his life suddenly. Therewith he heard voices talking roughly and a man
whistling, and athwart the glade of the wood from the northwest, or
thereabout, came new folk; and he saw at once that there went two men
a-horseback and armed; so he drew his sword and abode them close to the
want-ways. Presently they saw the shine of his war-gear, and then they
came but a little nigher ere they drew rein, and sat on their horses
looking toward him. Then Ralph saw that they were armed and clad as
those of the company which had gone before. One of the armed men rode
a horse-length after his fellow, and bore a long spear over his
shoulder. But the other who rode first was girt with a sword, and had
a little axe hanging about his neck, and with his right hand he seemed
to be leading something, Ralph could not see what at first, as his left
side was turned toward Ralph and the want-way.
Now, as Ralph looked, he saw that at the spearman's saddle-bow was hung
a man's head, red-haired and red-bearded; for this man now drew a
little nigher, and cried out to Ralph in a loud and merry voice: "Hail,
knight! whither away now, that thou ridest the green-wood sword in
hand?"
Ralph was just about to answer somewhat, when the first man moved a
little nigher, and as he did so he turned so that Ralph could see what
betid on his right hand; and lo! he was leading a woman by a rope tied
about her neck (though her hands were loose), as though he were
bringing a cow to market. When the man stayed his horse she came
forward and stood within the slack of the rope by the horse's head, and
Ralph could see her well, that though she was not to say naked, her
raiment was but scanty, for she had nought to cover her save one short
and strait little coat of linen, and shoes on her feet. Yet Ralph
deemed her to be of some degree, whereas he caught the gleam of gold
and gems on her hands, and there was a golden chaplet on her head. She
stood now by the horse's head with her hands folded, looking on, as if
what was tiding and to betide, were but a play done for her pleasure.
So when Ralph looked on her, he was silent a while; and the spearman
cried out again: "Ho, young man, wilt thou speak, or art thou
dumb-foundered for fear of us?"
But Ralph knit his brows, and was first red and then pale; for he was
both wroth, and doubtful how to go to work; but he said:
"I ride to seek adventures; and here meseemeth is one come to hand. Or
what will ye with the woman?"
Said the man who had the woman in tow: "Trouble not thine head
therewith; we lead her to her due doom. As for thee, be glad that thou
art not her fellow; since forsooth thou seemest not to be one of them;
so go thy ways in peace."
"No foot further will I go," said Ralph, "till ye loose the woman and
let her go; or else tell me what her worst deed is."
The man laughed, and said: "That were a long tale to tell; and it is
little like that thou shalt live to hear the ending thereof."
Therewith he wagged his head at the spearman, who suddenly let his
spear fall into the rest, and spurred, and drave on at Ralph all he
might. There and then had the tale ended, but Ralph, who was wary,
though he were young, and had Falcon well in hand, turned his wrist and
made the horse swerve, so that the man-at-arms missed his attaint, but
could not draw rein speedily enough to stay his horse; and as he passed
by all bowed over his horse's neck, Ralph gat his sword two-handed and
rose in his stirrups and smote his mightiest; and the sword caught the
foeman on the neck betwixt sallet and jack, and nought held before it,
neither leather nor ring-mail, so that the man's head was nigh smitten
off, and he fell clattering from his saddle: yet his stirrups held him,
so that his horse went dragging him on earth as he gallopped over rough
and smooth betwixt the trees of the forest. Then Ralph turned about to
deal with his fellow, and even through the wrath and fury of the
slaying saw him clear and bright against the trees as he sat handling
his axe doubtfully, but the woman was fallen back again somewhat.
But even as Ralph raised his sword and pricked forward, the woman
sprang as light as a leopard on to the saddle behind the foeman, and
wound her arms about him and dragged him back just as he was raising
his axe to smite her, and as Ralph rode forward she cried out to him,
"Smite him, smite! O lovely creature of God!"
Therewith was Ralph beside them, and though he were loth to slay a man
held in the arms of a woman, yet he feared lest the man should slay her
with some knife-stroke unless he made haste; so he thrust his sword
through him, and the man died at once, and fell headlong off his horse,
dragging down the woman with him.
Then Ralph lighted down from his horse, and the woman rose up to him,
her white smock all bloody with the slain man. Nevertheless was she as
calm and stately before him, as if she were sitting on the dais of a
fair hall; so she said to him:
"Young warrior, thou hast done well and knightly, and I shall look to
it that thou have thy reward. And now I rede thee go not to the Burg
of the Four Friths; for this tale of thee shall get about and they
shall take thee, if it were out of the very Frith-stool, and there for
thee should be the scourge and the gibbet; for they of that Burg be
robbers and murderers merciless. Yet well it were that thou ride hence
presently; for those be behind my tormentors whom thou hast slain, who
will be as an host to thee, and thou mayst not deal with them. If thou
follow my rede, thou wilt take the way that goeth hence east away, and
then shalt thou come to Hampton under Scaur, where the folk are
peaceable and friendly."
He looked at her hard as she spake, and noted that she spake but
slowly, and turned red and white and red again as she looked at him.
But whatever she did, and in spite of her poor attire, he deemed he had
never seen woman so fair. Her hair was dark red, but her eyes grey,
and light at whiles and yet at whiles deep; her lips betwixt thin and
full, but yet when she spoke or smiled clad with all enticements; her
chin round and so wrought as none was ever better wrought; her body
strong and well-knit; tall she was, with fair and large arms, and limbs
most goodly of fashion, of which but little was hidden, since her coat
was but thin and scanty. But whatever may be said of her, no man would
have deemed her aught save most lovely. Now her face grew calm and
stately again as it was at the first, and she laid a hand on Ralph's
shoulder, and smiled in his face and said:
"Surely thou art fair, though thy strokes be not light." Then she took
his hand and caressed it, and said again: "Dost thou deem that thou
hast done great things, fair child? Maybe. Yet some will say that
thou hast but slain two butchers: and if thou wilt say that thou hast
delivered me; yet it may be that I should have delivered myself ere
long. Nevertheless hold up thine heart, for I think that greater
things await thee."
Then she turned about, and saw the dead man, how his feet yet hung in
the stirrups as his fellow's had done, save that the horse of this one
stood nigh still, only reaching his head down to crop a mouthful of
grass; so she said: "Take him away, that I may mount on his horse."
So he drew the dead man's feet out of the stirrups, and dragged him
away to where the bracken grew deep, and laid him down there, so to say
hidden. Then he turned back to the lady, who was pacing up and down
near the horse as the beast fed quietly on the cool grass. When Ralph
came back she took the reins in her hand and put one foot in the
stirrup as if she would mount at once; but suddenly lighted down again,
and turning to Ralph, cast her arms about him, and kissed his face many
times, blushing red as a rose meantime. Then lightly she gat her up
into the saddle, and bestrode the beast, and smote his flanks with her
heels, and went her ways riding speedily toward the south-east, so that
she was soon out of sight.
But Ralph stood still looking the way she had gone and wondering at the
adventure; and he pondered her words and held debate with himself
whether he should take the road she bade him. And he said within
himself: "Hitherto have I been safe and have got no scratch of a weapon
upon me, and this is a place by seeming for all adventures; and little
way moreover shall I make in the night if I must needs go to Hampton
under Scaur, where dwell those peaceable people; and it is now growing
dusk already. So I will abide the morning hereby; but I will be wary
and let the wood cover me if I may."
Therewith he went and drew the body of the slain man down into a little
hollow where the bracken was high and the brambles grew strong, so that
it might not be lightly seen. Then he called to him Falcon, his horse,
and looked about for cover anigh the want-way, and found a little thin
coppice of hazel and sweet chestnut, just where two great oaks had been
felled a half score years ago; and looking through the leaves thence,
he could see the four ways clearly enough, though it would not be easy
for anyone to see him thence.
Thither he betook him, and he did the rein off Falcon, but tethered him
by a halter in the thickest of the copse, and sat down himself nigher
to the outside thereof; he did off his helm and drew what meat he had
from out his wallet and ate and drank in the beginning of the summer
night; and then sat pondering awhile on what had befallen on this
second day of his wandering. The moon shone out presently, little
clouded, but he saw her not, for though he strove to wake awhile,
slumber soon overcame him, and nothing waked him till the night was
passing, nor did he see aught of that company of which the lady had
spoken, and which in sooth came not.
CHAPTER 10
A Meeting and a Parting in the Wood Perilous
When the first glimmer of dawn was in the sky he awoke in the fresh
morning, and sat up and hearkened, for even as he woke he had heard
something, since wariness had made him wakeful. Now he hears the sound
of horse-hoofs on the hard road, and riseth to his feet and goeth to
the very edge of the copse; looking thence he saw a rider who was just
come to the very crossing of the roads. The new comer was much muffled
in a wide cloak, but he seemed to be a man low of stature. He peered
all round about him as if to see if the way were clear, and then
alighted down from horseback and let the hood fall off his head, and
seemed pondering which way were the best to take. By this time it was
grown somewhat lighter and Ralph, looking hard, deemed that the rider
was a woman; so he stepped forward lightly, and as he came on to the
open sward about the way, the new comer saw him and put a foot into the
stirrup to mount, but yet looked at him over the shoulder, and then
presently left the saddle and came forward a few steps as if to meet
Ralph, having cast the cloak to the ground.
Then Ralph saw that it was none other than the damsel of the hostelry
of Bourton Abbas, and he came up to her and reached out his hand to
her, and she took it in both hers and held it and said, smiling: "It is
nought save mountains that shall never meet. Here have I followed on
thy footsteps; yet knew I not where thou wouldst be in the forest. And
now I am glad to have fallen in with thee; for I am going a long way."
Ralph looked on her and himseemed some pain or shame touched his heart,
and he said: "I am a knight adventurous; I have nought to do save to
seek adventures. Why should I not go with thee?"
She looked at him earnestly awhile and said: "Nay, it may not be; thou
art a lord's son, and I a yeoman's daughter." She stopped, and he said
nothing in answer.
"Furthermore," said she, "it is a long way, and I know not how long."
Again he made no answer, and she said: "I am going to seek the WELL AT
THE WORLD'S END, and to find it and live, or to find it not, and die."
He spake after a while: "Why should I not come with thee?"
It was growing light now, and he could see that she reddened and then
turned pale and set her lips close.
Then she said: "Because thou willest it not: because thou hadst
liefer make that journey with some one else."
He reddened in his turn, and said: "I know of no one else who shall go
with me."
"Well," she said, "it is all one, I will not have thee go with me."
"Yea, and why not?" said he. She said: "Wilt thou swear to me that
nought hath happed to thee to change thee betwixt this and Bourton? If
thou wilt, then come with me; if thou wilt not, then refrain thee. And
this I say because I see and feel that there is some change in thee
since yesterday, so that thou wouldst scarce be dealing truly in being
my fellow in this quest: for they that take it up must be
single-hearted, and think of nought save the quest and the fellow that
is with them."
She looked on him sadly, and his many thoughts tongue-tied him a while;
but at last he said: "Must thou verily go on this quest?" "Ah," she
said, "now since I have seen thee and spoken with thee again, all need
there is that I should follow it at once."
Then they both kept silence, and when she spoke again her voice was as
if she were gay against her will. She said: "Here am I come to these
want-ways, and there are three roads besides the one I came by, and I
wot that this that goeth south will bring me to the Burg of the Four
Friths; and so much I know of the folk of the said Burg that they would
mock at me if I asked them of the way to the Well at the World's End.
And as for the western way I deem that that will lead me back again to
the peopled parts whereof I know; therefore I am minded to take the
eastern way. What sayest thou, fair lord?"
Said Ralph: "I have heard of late that it leadeth presently to Hampton
under the Scaur, where dwelleth a people of goodwill."
"Who told thee this tale?" said she. Ralph answered, reddening again,
"I was told by one who seemed to know both of that folk, and of the
Burg of the Four Friths, and she said that the folk of Hampton were a
good folk, and that they of the Burg were evil."
The damsel smiled sadly when she heard him say 'She,' and when he had
done she said: "And I have heard, and not from yesterday, that at
Hampton dwelleth the Fellowship of the Dry Tree, and that those of the
fellowship are robbers and reivers. Nevertheless they will perchance
be little worse than the others; and the tale tells that the way to the
Well at the World's End is by the Dry Tree; so thither will I at all
adventure. And now will I say farewell to thee, for it is most like
that I shall not see thee again."
"O, maiden!" said Ralph, "why wilt thou not go back to Bourton Abbas?
There I might soon meet thee again, and yet, indeed, I also am like to
go to Hampton. Shall I not see thee there?"
She shook her head and said: "Nay, since I must go so far, I shall not
tarry; and, sooth to say, if I saw thee coming in at one gate I should
go out by the other, for why should I dally with a grief that may not
be amended. For indeed I wot that thou shalt soon forget to wish to
see me, either at Bourton Abbas or elsewhere; so I will say no more
than once again farewell."
Then she came close to him and put her hands on his shoulders and
kissed his mouth; and then she turned away swiftly, caught up her
cloak, and gat lightly into the saddle, and so shook her reins and rode
away east toward Hampton, and left Ralph standing there downcast and
pondering many things. It was still so early in the summer morning,
and he knew so little what to do, that presently he turned and walked
back to his lair amongst the hazels, and there he lay down, and his
thoughts by then were all gone back again to the lovely lady whom he
had delivered, and he wondered if he should ever see her again, and,
sooth to say, he sorely desired to see her. Amidst such thoughts he
fell asleep again, for the night yet owed him something of rest, so
young as he was and so hard as he had toiled, both body and mind,
during the past day.
CHAPTER 11
Now Must Ralph Ride For It
When he awoke again the sun was shining through the hazel leaves,
though it was yet early; he arose and looked to his horse, and led him
out of the hazel copse and stood and looked about him; and lo! a man
coming slowly through the wood on Ralph's right hand, and making as it
seemed for the want-way; he saw Ralph presently, and stopped, and bent
a bow which he held in his hand, and then came towards him warily, with
the arrow nocked. But Ralph went to meet him with his sword in his
sheath, and leading Falcon by the rein, and the man stopped and took
the shaft from the string: he had no armour, but there was a little axe
and a wood-knife in his girdle; he was clad in homespun, and looked
like a carle of the country-side. Now he greeted Ralph, and Ralph gave
him the sele of the day, and saw that the new-comer was both tall and
strong, dark of skin and black-haired, but of a cheerful countenance.
He spake frank and free to Ralph, and said: "Whither away, lord, out of
the woodland hall, and the dwelling of deer and strong-thieves? I would
that the deer would choose them a captain, and gather head and destroy
the thieves--and some few others with them."
Said Ralph: "I may scarce tell thee till I know myself. Awhile ago I
was minded for the Burg of the Four Friths; but now I am for Hampton
under Scaur."
"Yea?" said the carle, "when the Devil drives, to hell must we."
"What meanest thou, good fellow?" said Ralph, "Is Hampton then so evil
an abode?" And indeed it was in his mind that the adventure of the
lady led captive bore some evil with it.
Said the carle: "If thou wert not a stranger in these parts I need not
to answer thy question; but I will answer it presently, yet not till we
have eaten, for I hunger, and have in this wallet both bread and
cheese, and thou art welcome to a share thereof, if thou hungerest
also, as is most like, whereas thou art young and fresh coloured."
"So it is," said Ralph, laughing, "and I also may help to spread this
table in the wilderness, since there are yet some crumbs in my wallet.
Let us sit down and fall to at once."
"By your leave, Sir Gentleman," said the carle, "we will go a few yards
further on, where there is a woodland brook, whereof we may drink when
my bottle faileth."
"Nay, I may better that," said Ralph, "for I have wherewithal."
"Nevertheless," said the carle, "we will go thither, for here is it too
open for so small a company as ours, since this want-way hath an ill
name, and I shall lead thee whereas we shall be somewhat out of the way
of murder-carles. So come on, if thou trusteth in me."
Ralph yeasaid him, and they went together a furlong from the want-way
into a little hollow place wherethrough ran a clear stream betwixt
thick-leaved alders. The carle led Ralph to the very lip of the water
so that the bushes covered them; there they sat down and drew what they
had from their wallets, and so fell to meat; and amidst of the meat the
carle said:
"Fair Knight, as I suppose thou art one, I will ask thee if any need
draweth thee to Hampton?"
Said Ralph: "The need of giving the go-by to the Burg of the Four
Friths, since I hear tell that the folk thereof be robbers and
murderers."
"Thou shalt find that out better, lord, by going thither; but I shall
tell thee, that though men may slay and steal there time and time
about, yet in regard to Hampton under Scaur, it is Heaven, wherein men
sin not. And I am one who should know, for I have been long dwelling
in Hell, that is Hampton; and now am I escaped thence, and am minded
for the Burg, if perchance I may be deemed there a man good enough to
ride in their host, whereby I might avenge me somewhat on them that
have undone me: some of whom meseemeth must have put in thy mouth that
word against the Burg. Is it not so?"
"Maybe," said Ralph, "for thou seemest to be a true man." No more he
spake though he had half a mind to tell the carle all the tale of that
adventure; but something held him back when he thought of that lady and
her fairness. Yet again his heart misgave him of what might betide
that other maiden at Hampton, and he was unquiet, deeming that he must
needs follow her thither. The carle looked on him curiously and
somewhat anxiously, but Ralph's eyes were set on something that was not
there; or else maybe had he looked closely on the carle he might have
deemed that longing to avenge him whereof he spoke did not change his
face much; for in truth there was little wrath in it.
Now the carle said: "Thou hast a tale which thou deemest unmeet for my
ears, as it well may be. Well, thou must speak, or refrain from
speaking, what thou wilt; but thou art so fair a young knight, and so
blithe with a poor man, and withal I deem that thou mayest help me to
some gain and good, that I will tell thee a true tale: and first that
the Burg is a good town under a good lord, who is no tyrant nor
oppressor of peaceful men; and that thou mayest dwell there in peace as
to the folk thereof, who be good folk, albeit they be no dastards to
let themselves be cowed by murder-carles. And next I will tell thee
that the folk of the town of Hampton be verily as harmless and innocent
as sheep; but that they be under evil lords who are not their true
lords, who lay heavy burdens on them and torment them even to the
destroying of their lives: and lastly I will tell thee that I was one
of those poor people, though not so much a sheep as the more part of
them, therefore have these tyrants robbed me of my croft, and set
another man in my house; and me they would have slain had I not fled to
the wood that it might cover me. And happy it was for me that I had
neither wife, nor chick, nor child, else had they done as they did with
my brother, whose wife was too fair for him, since he dwelt at Hampton;
so that they took her away from him to make sport for them of the Dry
Tree, who dwell in the Castle of the Scaur, who shall be thy masters if
thou goest thither.
"This is my tale, and thine, I say, I ask not; but I deem that thou
shalt do ill if thou go not to the Burg either with me or by thyself
alone; either as a guest, or as a good knight to take service in their
host."
Now so it was that Ralph was wary; and this time he looked closely at
the carle, and found that he spake coldly for a man with so much wrath
in his heart; therefore he was in doubt about the thing; moreover he
called to mind the words of the lady whom he had delivered, and her
loveliness, and the kisses she had given him, and he was loth to find
her a liar; and he was loth also to think that the maiden of Bourton
had betaken her to so evil a dwelling. So he said:
"Friend, I know not that I must needs be a partaker in the strife
betwixt Hampton and the Burg, or go either to one or the other of these
strongholds. Is there no other way out of this wood save by Hampton or
the Burg? or no other place anigh, where I may rest in peace awhile,
and then go on mine own errands?"
Said the Carle: "There is a thorp that lieth somewhat west of the
Burg, which is called Apthorp; but it is an open place, not fenced, and
is debateable ground, whiles held by them of the Burg, whiles by the
Dry Tree; and if thou tarry there, and they of the Dry Tree take thee,
soon is thine errand sped; and if they of the Burg take thee, then
shalt thou be led into the Burg in worse case than thou wouldest be if
thou go thereto uncompelled. What sayest thou, therefore? Who shall
hurt thee in the Burg, a town which is under good and strong law, if
thou be a true man, as thou seemest to be? And if thou art seeking
adventures, as may well be, thou shalt soon find them there ready to
hand. I rede thee come with me to the Burg; for, to say sooth, I shall
find it somewhat easier to enter therein if I be in the company of
thee, a knight and a lord."
So Ralph considered and thought that there lay indeed but little peril
to him in the Burg, whereas both those men with whom he had striven
were hushed for ever, and there was none else to tell the tale of the
battle, save the lady, whose peril from them of the Burg was much
greater than his; and also he thought that if anything untoward befel,
he had some one to fall back on in old Oliver: yet on the other hand
he had a hankering after Hampton under Scaur, where, to say sooth, he
doubted not to see the lady again.
So betwixt one thing and the other, speech hung on his lips awhile,
when suddenly the carle said: "Hist! thou hast left thy horse without
the bushes, and he is whinnying" (which indeed he was), "there is now
no time to lose. To horse straightway, for certainly there are folk at
hand, and they may be foemen, and are most like to be."
Therewith they both arose and hastened to where Falcon stood just
outside the alder bushes, and Ralph leapt a-horseback without more ado,
and the carle waited no bidding to leap up behind him, and pointing to
a glade of the wood which led toward the highway, cried out, "Spur that
way, thither! they of the Dry Tree are abroad this morning. Spur! 'tis
for life or death!"
Ralph shook the rein and Falcon leapt away without waiting for the
spur, while the carle looked over his shoulder and said, "Yonder they
come! they are three; and ever they ride well horsed. Nay, nay! They
are four," quoth he, as a shout sounded behind them. "Spur, young
lord! spur! And thine horse is a mettlesome beast. Yea, it will do,
it will do."
Therewith came to Ralph's ears the sound of their horse-hoofs beating
the turf, and he spurred indeed, and Falcon flew forth.
"Ah," cried the carle! "but take heed, for they see that thy horse is
good, and one of them, the last, hath a bent Turk bow in his hand, and
is laying an arrow on it; as ever their wont is to shoot a-horseback: a
turn of thy rein, as if thine horse were shying at a weasel on the
road!"
Ralph stooped his head and made Falcon swerve, and heard therewith the
twang of the bowstring and straightway the shaft flew past his ears.
Falcon galloped on, and the carle cried out: "There is the highway
toward the Burg! Do thy best, do thy best! Lo you again!"
For the second shaft flew from the Turkish bow, and the noise of the
chase was loud behind them. Once again twanged the bow-string, but
this time the arrow fell short, and the woodland man, turning himself
about as well as he might, shook his clenched fist at the chase, crying
out in a voice broken by the gallop: "Ha, thieves! I am Roger of the
Rope-walk, I go to twist a rope for the necks of you!"
Then he spake to Ralph: "They are turning back: they are beaten, and
withal they love not the open road: yet slacken not yet, young knight,
unless thou lovest thine horse more than thy life; for they will follow
on through the thicket on the way-side to see whether thou wert born a
fool and hast learned nothing later."
"Yea," said Ralph, "and now I deem thou wilt tell me that to the Burg I
needs must."
"Yea, forsooth," said the carle, "nor shall we be long, riding thus,
ere we come to the Burg Gate."
"Yea, or even slower," said Ralph, drawing rein somewhat, "for now I
deem the chase done: and after all is said, I have no will to slay
Falcon, who is one of my friends, as thou perchance mayest come to be
another."
Thereafter he went a hand-gallop till the wood began to thin, and there
were fields of tillage about the highway; and presently Roger said:
"Thou mayst breathe thy nag now, and ride single, for we are amidst
friends; not even a score of the Dry Tree dare ride so nigh the Burg
save by night and cloud."
So Ralph stayed his horse, and he and Roger lighted down, and Ralph
looked about him and saw a stone tower builded on a little knoll amidst
a wheatfield, and below it some simple houses thatched with straw;
there were folk moreover working, or coming and going about the fields,
who took little heed of the two when they saw them standing quiet by
the horse's head; but each and all of these folk, so far as could be
seen, had some weapon.
Then said Ralph: "Good fellow, is this the Burg of the Four Friths?"
The carle laughed, and said: "Simple is the question, Sir Knight:
yonder is a watch-tower of the Burg, whereunder husbandmen can live,
because there be men-at-arms therein. And all round the outskirts of
the Frank of the Burg are there such-like towers to the number of
twenty-seven. For that, say folk, was the tale of the winters of the
Fair Lady who erewhile began the building of the Burg, when she was
first wedded to the Forest Lord, who before that building had dwelt, he
and his fathers, in thatched halls of timber here and there about the
clearings of the wild-wood. But now, knight, if thou wilt, thou mayest
go on softly toward the Gate of the Burg, and if thou wilt I will walk
beside thy rein, which fellowship, as aforesaid, shall be a gain to me."
Said Ralph: "I pray thee come with me, good fellow, and show me how
easiest to enter this stronghold." So, when Falcon was well breathed,
they went on, passing through goodly acres and wide meadows, with here
and there a homestead on them, and here and there a carle's cot. Then
came they to a thorp of the smallest on a rising ground, from the
further end of which they could see the walls and towers of the Burg.
Thereafter right up to the walls were no more houses or cornfields,
nought but reaches of green meadows plenteously stored with sheep and
kine, and with a little stream winding about them.
CHAPTER 12
Ralph Entereth Into the Burg of the Four Friths
When they came up to the wall they saw that it was well builded of good
ashlar, and so high that they might not see the roofs of the town
because of it; but there were tall towers on it, a many of them, strong
and white. The road led up straight to the master-gate of the Burg,
and there was a bailey before it strongly walled, and manned with
weaponed men, and a captain going about amongst them. But they entered
it along with men bringing wares into the town, and none heeded them
much, till they came to the very gate, on the further side of a moat
that was both deep and clean; but as now the bridge was down and the
portcullis up, so that the market-people might pass in easily, for it
was yet early in the day. But before the door on either side stood
men-at-arms well weaponed, and on the right side was their captain, a
tall man with bare grizzled head, but otherwise all-armed, who stopped
every one whom he knew not, and asked their business.
As Ralph came riding up with Roger beside him, one of the guard laid
his spear across and bade them stand, and the captain spake in a dry
cold voice: "Whence comest thou, man-at-arms?" "From the Abbey of St.
Mary at Higham," said Ralph. "Yea," said the captain, smiling grimly,
"even so I might have deemed: thou wilt be one of the Lord Abbot's
lily lads." "No I am not," quoth Ralph angrily. "Well, well," said the
captain, "what is thy name?"
"Ralph Motherson," quoth Ralph, knitting his brow. Said the captain
"And whither wilt thou?" Said Ralph, "On mine own errands." "Thou
answerest not over freely," quoth the captain. Said Ralph, "Then is it
even; for thou askest freely enough." "Well, well," said the captain,
grinning in no unfriendly wise, "thou seemest a stout lad enough; and
as to my asking, it is my craft as captain of the North Gate: but now
tell me friendly, goest thou to any kinsman or friend in the Burg?"
Then Ralph's brow cleared and he said, "Nay, fair sir." "Well then,"
said the captain, "art thou but riding straight through to another
gate, and so away again?" "Nay," said Ralph, "if I may, I would abide
here the night over, or may-happen longer." "Therein thou shalt do
well, young man," said the captain; "then I suppose thou wilt to some
hostelry? tell me which one."
Said Ralph, "Nay, I wot not to which one, knowing not the town." But
Roger close by him spake and said: "My lord shall go to the Flower de
Luce, which is in the big square."
"Truly," said the captain, "he goes to a good harbour; and moreover,
fair sir, to-morrow thou shalt see a goodly sight from thine inn; thou
mayst do no better, lord. But thou, carle, who art thou, who knowest
the inside of our Burg so well, though I know thee not, for as well as
I know our craftsmen and vavassors?"
Then Roger's words hung on his lips awhile, and the knight bent his
brow on him, till at last he said, "Sir Captain, I was minded to lie,
and say that I am this young knight's serving-man." The captain broke
in on him grimly, "Thou wert best not lie."
"Yea, sir," quoth Roger, "I deemed, as it was on my tongue's end, that
thou wouldst find me out, so I have nought to do but tell thee the very
sooth: this it is: I am a man made masterless by the thieves of the
Dry Tree. From my land at Hampton under Scaur have I been driven, my
chattels have been lifted, and my friends slain; and therefore by your
leave would I ride in the host of the Burg, that I may pay back the
harm which I had, according to the saw, 'better bale by breeding bale.'
So, lord, I ask thee wilt thou lend me the sword and give me the loaf,
that I may help both thee, and the Burg, and me?"
The captain looked at him closely and sharply, while the carle faced
him with open simple eyes, and at last he said: "Well, carle, thou wert
about to name thyself this young knight's serving-man; be thou even so
whiles he abideth in the Burg; and when he leaveth the Burg then come
back to me here any day before noon, and may be I shall then put a
sword in thy fist and horse between thy thighs. But," (and he wagged
his head threateningly at Roger) "see that thou art at the Flower de
Luce when thou art called for."
Roger held his peace and seemed somewhat abashed at this word, and the
captain turned to Ralph and said courteously: "Young knight, if thou
art seeking adventures, thou shalt find them in our host; and if thou
be but half as wise as thou seemest bold, thou wilt not fail to gain
honour and wealth both, in the service of the Burg; for we be overmuch
beset with foemen that we should not welcome any wight and wary
warrior, though he be an alien of blood and land. If thou thinkest
well of this, then send me thy man here and give me word of thy mind,
and I shall lead thee to the chiefs of the Port, and make the way easy
for thee."
Ralph thanked him and rode through the gate into the street, and Roger
still went beside his stirrup.
Presently Ralph turned to Roger and spake to him somewhat sourly, and
said: "Thou hadst one lie in thy mouth and didst swallow it; but how
shall I know that another did not come out thence? Withal thou must
needs be my fellow here, will I, nill I; for thou it was that didst put
that word into the captain's mouth that thou shouldst serve me while I
abide in the Burg. So I will say here and now, that my mind misgives
me concerning thee, whether thou be not of those very thieves and
tyrants whom thou didst mis-say but a little while ago."
"Yea," said Roger, "thou art wise indeed to set me down as one of the
Dry Tree; doubtless that is why I delivered thee from their ambush even
now. And as for my service, thou mayst need it; for indeed I deem thee
not so safe as thou deemest thyself in this Burg."
"What!" said Ralph, "Dost thou blow hot and cold? why even now, when we
were in the wood, thou wert telling me that I had nought at all to fear
in the Burg of the Four Friths, and that all was done there by reason
and with justice. What is this new thing then which thou hast found
out, or what is that I have to fear?"
Roger changed countenance thereat and seemed somewhat confused, as one
who has been caught unawares; but he gat his own face presently, and
said: "Nay, Sir Knight, I will tell thee the truth right out. In the
wood yonder thy danger was great that thou mightest run into the hands
of them of the Dry Tree; therefore true it is that I spake somewhat
beyond my warrant concerning the life of the folk of the Burg, as how
could I help it? But surely whatever thy peril may be here, it is
nought to that which awaited thee at Hampton."
"Nay, but what is the peril?" said Ralph. Quoth Roger, "If thou wilt
become their man and enter into their host, there is none; for they
will ask few questions of so good a man-at-arms, when they know that
thou art theirs; but if thou naysay that, it may well be that they will
be for turning the key on thee till thou tellest them what and whence
thou art." Ralph answered nought, thinking in his mind that this was
like enough; so he rode on soberly, till Roger said:
"Anyhow, thou mayst turn the cold shoulder on me if thou wilt. Yet
were I thee, I would not, for so it is, both that I can help thee, as I
deem, in time to come, and that I have helped thee somewhat in time
past."
Now Ralph was young and could not abide the blame of thanklessness; so
he said, "Nay, nay, fellow, go we on together to the Flower de Luce."
Roger nodded his head and grumbled somewhat, and they made no stay
except that now and again Ralph drew rein to look at goodly things in
the street, for there were many open booths therein, so that the whole
street looked like a market. The houses were goodly of building, but
not very tall, the ways wide and well-paved. Many folk were in the
street, going up and down on their errands, and both men and women of
them seemed to Ralph stout and strong, but not very fair of favour.
Withal they seemed intent on their business, and payed little heed to
Ralph and his fellow, though he was by his attire plainly a stranger.
Now Ralph sees a house more gaily adorned than most, and a sign hung
out from it whereon was done an image of St. Loy, and underneath the
same a booth on which was set out weapons and war-gear exceeding
goodly; and two knaves of the armourer were standing by to serve folk,
and crying their wares with "what d'ye lack?" from time to time. So he
stayed and fell to looking wistfully at the gleam and glitter of those
fair things, till one of the aforesaid knaves came to his side and said:
"Fair Sir, surely thou lackest somewhat; what have we here for thy
needs?" So Ralph thought and called to mind that strong little steel
axe of the man whom he had slain yesterday, and asked for the sight of
such a weapon, if he might perchance cheapen it. And the lad brought a
very goodly steel axe, gold-inlaid about the shaft, and gave him the
price thereof, which Ralph deemed he might compass; so he brought round
his scrip to his hand, that he might take out the money. But while his
hand was yet in the bag, out comes the master-armourer, a tall and very
stark carle, and said in courteous wise: "Sir Knight, thou art a
stranger to me and I know thee not; so I must needs ask for a sight of
thy license to buy weapons, under the seal of the Burg."
"Hear a wonder," said Ralph, "that a free man for his money shall not
buy wares set out to be bought, unless he have the Burg-Reeve's hand
and seal for it! Nay, take thy florins, master, and give me the axe
and let the jest end there." "I jest not, young rider," quoth the
armourer. "When we know thee for a liegeman of the Burg, thou shalt
buy what thou wilt without question; but otherwise I have told thee the
law, and how may I, the master of the craft, break the law? Be not
wrath, fair sir, I will set aside thine axe for thee, till thou bring
me the license, or bid me come see it, and thou shalt get the said
license at the Town Hall straight-way, when they may certify thee no
foeman of the Burg."
Ralph saw that it availed nothing to bicker with the smith, and so went
his way somewhat crestfallen, and that the more as he saw Roger
grinning a little.
Now they come into the market-place, on one side whereof was the master
church of the town, which was strongly built and with a tall tower to
it, but was not very big, and but little adorned. Over against it they
saw the sign of the Flower de Luce, a goodly house and great.
Thitherward they turned; but in the face of the hostelry amidmost the
place was a thing which Roger pointed at with a grin that spoke as well
as words; and this was a high gallows-tree furnished with four forks or
arms, each carved and wrought in the fashion of the very bough of a
tree, from which dangled four nooses, and above them all was a board
whereon was written in big letters THE DRY TREE. And at the foot of
this gallows were divers folk laughing and talking.
So Ralph understood at once that those four men whom he had seen led
away bound yesterday should be hanged thereon; so he stayed a franklin
who was passing by, and said to him, "Sir, I am a stranger in the town,
and I would know if justice shall be done on the four woodmen to-day."
"Nay," said the man, "but to-morrow; they are even now before the
judges."
Then said Roger in a surly voice, "Why art thou not there to look on?"
"Because," quoth the man, "there is little to see there, and not much
more to hearken. The thieves shall be speedily judged, and not
questioned with torments, so that they may be the lustier to feel what
the hangman shall work on them to-morrow; then forsooth the show shall
be goodly. But far better had it been if we had had in our hands the
great witch of these dastards, as we looked to have her; but now folk
say that she has not been brought within gates, and it is to be feared
that she hath slipped through our fingers once more."
Roger laughed, and said: "Simple are ye folk of the Burg and know
nought of her shifts. I tell thee it is not unlike that she is in the
Burg even now, and hath in hand to take out of your prison the four
whom ye have caught."
The franklin laughed scornfully in his turn and said: "If we be simple,
thou art a fool merely: are we not stronger and more than the Dry
Tree? How should she not be taken? How should she not be known if she
were walking about these streets? Have we no eyes, fool-carle?" And he
laughed again, for he was wroth.
Ralph hearkened, and a kind of fear seemed griping his heart, so he
asked the franklin: "Tell me, sir, are ye two speaking of a woman who
is Queen of these strong-thieves?" "Yea," said he, "or it might better
be said that she is their goddess, their mawmet, their devil, the very
heart and soul of their wickedness. But one day shall we have her body
and soul, and then shall her body have but an evil day of it till she
dieth in this world."
"Yea, forsooth, if she can die at all," quoth Roger.
The franklin looked sourly on him and said: "Good man, thou knowest
much of her, meseemeth--Whence art thou?" Said Roger speedily: "From
Hampton under Scaur; and her rebel I am, and her dastard, and her
runaway. Therefore I know her forsooth."
"Well," the Franklin said, "thou seemest a true man, and yet I would
counsel thee to put a rein on thy tongue when thou art minded to talk
of the Devil of the Dry Tree, or thou mayst come to harm in the Burg."
He walked away towards the gallows therewith; and Roger said, almost as
if he were talking to himself; "A heavy-footed fool goeth yonder; but
after this talk we were better hidden by the walls of the
Flower-de-Luce." So therewith they went on toward the hostel.
But the market place was wide, and they were yet some minutes getting
to the door, and ere they came there Ralph said, knitting his brows
anxiously: "Is this woman fair or foul to look on?" "That is nought so
easy to tell of," said Roger, "whiles she is foul, whiles very fair,
whiles young and whiles old; whiles cruel and whiles kind. But note
this, when she is the kindest then are her carles the cruellest; and
she is the kinder to them because they are cruel."
Ralph pondered what he said, and wondered if this were verily the woman
whom he had delivered, or some other. As if answering to his unspoken
thought, Roger went on: "They speak but of one woman amongst them of
the Dry Tree, but in sooth they have many others who are like unto her
in one way or other; and this again is a reason why they may not lay
hands on the very Queen of them all."
Therewithal they came unto the hostel, and found it fair enough within,
the hall great and goodly for such a house, and with but three
chapmen-carles therein. Straightway they called for meat, for it was
now past noon, and the folk of the house served them when the grooms
had taken charge of Falcon. And Roger served Ralph as if he were
verily his man. Then Ralph went to his chamber aloft and rested a
while, but came down into the hall a little before nones, and found
Roger there walking up and down the hall floor, and no man else, so he
said to him: "Though thou art not of the Burg, thou knowest it; wilt
thou not come abroad then, and show it me? for I have a mind to learn
the ways of the folk here."
Said Roger, and smiled a little: "If thou commandest me as my lord, I
will come; yet I were better pleased to abide behind; for I am weary
with night-waking and sorrow; and have a burden of thought, one which I
must bear to the end of the road; and if I put it down I shall have to
go back and take it up again."
Ralph thought that he excused himself with more words than were needed;
but he took little heed of it, but nodded to him friendly, and went out
of the house afoot, but left his weapons and armour behind him by the
rede of Roger.
CHAPTER 13
The Streets of the Burg of the Four Friths
He went about the streets and found them all much like to the one which
they had entered by the north gate; he saw no poor or wretched houses,
and none very big as of great lords; they were well and stoutly
builded, but as aforesaid not much adorned either with carven work or
painting: there were folk enough in the streets, and now Ralph, as was
like to be, looked specially at the women, and thought many of them
little better-favoured than the men, being both dark and low; neither
were they gaily clad, though their raiment, like the houses, was stout
and well wrought. But here and there he came on a woman taller and
whiter than the others, as though she were of another blood; all such
of these as he saw were clad otherwise than the darker women: their
heads uncoifed, uncovered save for some garland or silken band: their
gowns yellow like wheat-straw, but gaily embroidered; sleeveless withal
and short, scarce reaching to the ancles, and whiles so thin that they
were rather clad with the embroidery than the cloth; shoes they had
not, but sandals bound on their naked feet with white thongs, and each
bore an iron ring about her right arm.
The more part of the men wore weapons at their sides and had staves in
hand, and were clad in short jerkins brown or blue of colour, and
looked ready for battle if any moment should call them thereto; but
among them were men of different favour and stature from these, taller
for the most part, unarmed, and clad in long gowns of fair colours with
cloths of thin and gay-coloured web twisted about their heads. These
he took for merchants, as they were oftenest standing in and about the
booths and shops, whereof there were some in all the streets, though
the market for victuals and such like he found over for that day, and
but scantily peopled.
Out of one of these markets, which was the fish and fowl market, he
came into a long street that led him down to a gate right over against
that whereby he had entered the Burg; and as he came thereto he saw
that there was a wide way clear of all houses inside of the wall, so
that men-at-arms might go freely from one part to the other; and he had
also noted that a wide way led from each port out of the great place,
and each ended not but in a gate. But as to any castle in the town, he
saw none; and when he asked a burgher thereof, the carle laughed in his
face, and said to him that the whole Burg, houses and all, was a
castle, and that it would turn out to be none of the easiest to win.
And forsooth Ralph himself was much of that mind.
Now he was just within the south gate when he held this talk, and there
were many folk thereby already, and more flocking thereto; so he stood
there to see what should betide; and anon he heard great blowing of
horns and trumpets all along the wall, and, as he deemed, other horns
answered from without; and so it was; for soon the withoutward horns
grew louder, and the folk fell back on either side of the way, and next
the gates were thrown wide open (which before had been shut save for a
wicket) and thereafter came the first of a company of men-at-arms,
foot-men, with bills some, and some with bows, and all-armed knights
and sergeants a-horseback.
So streamed in these weaponed men till Ralph saw that it was a great
host that was entering the Burg; and his heart rose within him, so
warrior-like they were of men and array, though no big men of their
bodies; and many of them bore signs of battle about them, both in the
battering of their armour and the rending of their raiment, and the
clouts tied about the wounds on their bodies.
After a while among the warriors came herds of neat and flocks of sheep
and strings of horses, of the spoil which the host had lifted; and then
wains filled, some with weapons and war gear, and some with bales of
goods and household stuff. Last came captives, some going afoot and
some for weariness borne in wains; for all these war-taken thralls were
women and women-children; of males there was not so much as a little
lad. Of the women many seemed fair to Ralph despite their grief and
travel; and as he looked on them he deemed that they must be of the
kindred and nation of the fair white women he had seen in the streets;
though they were not clad like those, but diversely.
So Ralph gazed on this pageant till all had passed, and he was weary
with the heat and the dust and the confused clamour of shouting and
laughter and talking; and whereas most of the folk followed after the
host and their spoil, the streets of the town there about were soon
left empty and peaceful. So he turned into a street narrower than
most, that went east from the South Gate and was much shaded from the
afternoon sun, and went slowly down it, meaning to come about the
inside of the wall till he should hit the East Gate, and so into the
Great Place when the folk should have gone their ways home.
He saw no folk in the street save here and there an old woman sitting
at the door of her house, and maybe a young child with her. As he came
to where the street turned somewhat, even such a carline was sitting on
a clean white door-step on the sunny side, somewhat shaded by a tall
rose-laurel tree in a great tub, and she sang as she sat spinning, and
Ralph stayed to listen in his idle mood, and he heard how she sang in a
dry, harsh voice:
Clashed sword on shield In the harvest field;
And no man blames The red red flames,
War's candle-wick On roof and rick.
Now dead lies the yeoman unwept and unknown
On the field he hath furrowed, the ridge he hath sown:
And all in the middle of wethers and neat
The maidens are driven with blood on their feet;
For yet 'twixt the Burg-gate and battle half-won
The dust-driven highway creeps uphill and on,
And the smoke of the beacons goes coiling aloft,
While the gathering horn bloweth loud, louder and oft.
Throw wide the gates
For nought night waits;
Though the chase is dead
The moon's o'erhead
And we need the clear
Our spoil to share.
Shake the lots in the helm then for brethren are we,
And the goods of my missing are gainful to thee.
Lo! thine are the wethers, and his are the kine;
And the colts of the marshland unbroken are thine,
With the dapple-grey stallion that trampled his groom;
And Giles hath the gold-blossomed rose of the loom.
Lo! leaps out the last lot and nought have I won,
But the maiden unmerry, by battle undone.
Even as her song ended came one of those fair yellow-gowned damsels
round the corner of the street, bearing in her hand a light basket full
of flowers: and she lifted up her head and beheld Ralph there; then she
went slowly and dropped her eyelids, and it was pleasant to Ralph to
behold her; for she was as fair as need be. Her corn-coloured gown was
dainty and thin, and but for its silver embroidery had hidden her limbs
but little; the rosiness of her ancles showed amidst her white
sandal-thongs, and there were silver rings and gold on her arms along
with the iron ring.
Now she lifted up her eyes and looked shyly at Ralph, and he smiled at
her well-pleased, and deemed it would be good to hear her voice; so he
went up to her and greeted her, and she seemed to take his greeting
well, though she glanced swiftly at the carline in the doorway.
Said Ralph: "Fair maiden, I am a stranger in this town, and have seen
things I do not wholly understand; now wilt thou tell me before I ask
the next question, who will be those war-taken thralls whom even now I
saw brought into the Burg by the host? of what nation be they, and of
what kindred?"
Straightway was the damsel all changed; she left her dainty tricks, and
drew herself up straight and stiff. She looked at him in the eyes,
flushing red, and with knit brows, a moment, and then passed by him
with swift and firm feet as one both angry and ashamed.
But the carline who had beheld the two with a grin on her wrinkled face
changed aspect also, and cried out fiercely after the damsel, and said:
"What! dost thou flee from the fair young man, and he so kind and soft
with thee, thou jade? Yea, I suppose thou dost fetch and carry for
some mistress who is young and a fool, and who has not yet learned how
to deal with the daughters of thine accursed folk. Ah! if I had but
money to buy some one of you, and a good one, she should do something
else for me than showing her fairness to young men; and I would pay her
for her long legs and her white skin, till she should curse her fate
that she had not been born little and dark-skinned and free, and with
heels un-bloodied with the blood of her back."
Thus she went on, though the damsel was long out of ear-shot of her
curses; and Ralph tarried not to get away from her spiteful babble,
which he now partly understood; and that all those yellow-clad damsels
were thralls to the folk of the Burg; and belike were of the kindred of
those captives late-taken whom he had seen amidst the host at its
entering into the Burg.
So he wandered away thence thinking on what he should do till the sun
was set, and he had come into the open space underneath the walls, and
had gone along it till he came to the East Gate: there he looked around
him a little and found people flowing back from the Great Place,
whereto they had gathered to see the host mustered and the spoil
blessed; then he went on still under the wall, and noted not that here
and there a man turned about to look upon him curiously, for he was
deep in thought, concerning the things which he had seen and heard of,
and pondered much what might have befallen his brethren since they
sundered at the Want-way nigh to the High House of Upmeads. Withal the
chief thing that he desired was to get him away from the Burg, for he
felt himself unfree therein; and he said to himself that if he were
forced to dwell among this folk, that he had better never have stolen
himself away from his father and mother; and whiles even he thought
that he would do his best on the morrow to get him back home to Upmeads
again. But then when he thought of how his life would go in his old
home, there seemed to him a lack, and when he questioned himself as to
what that lack was, straightway he seemed to see that Lady of the
Wildwood standing before the men-at-arms in her scanty raiment the
minute before his life was at adventure because of them. And in sooth
he smiled to himself then with a beating heart, as he told himself that
above all things he desired to see that Lady, whatever she might be,
and that he would follow his adventure to the end until he met her.
Amidst these thoughts he came unto the North Gate, whereby he had first
entered the Burg, and by then it was as dark as the summer night would
be; so he woke up from his dream, as it were, and took his way briskly
back to the Flower de Luce.
CHAPTER 14
What Ralph Heard of the Matters of the Burg of the Four Friths
There was no candle in the hall when he entered, but it was not so dark
therein but he might see Roger sitting on a stool near the chimney, and
opposite to him on the settle sat two men; one very tall and big, the
other small; Roger was looking away from these, and whistling; and it
came into Ralph's mind that he would have him think that he had nought
to do with them, whether that were so or not. But he turned round as
Ralph came up the hall and rose and came up to him, and fell to talking
with him and asking him how he liked the Burg; and ever he spake fast
and loud, so that again it came on Ralph that he was playing a part.
Ralph heeded him little, but ever looked through the hall-dusk on those
twain, who presently arose and went toward the hall door, but when they
were but half-way across the floor a chamberlain came in suddenly,
bearing candles in his hands, and the light fell on those guests and
flashed back from a salade on the head of the big man, and Ralph saw
that he was clad in a long white gaberdine, and he deemed that he was
the very man whom he had seen last in the Great Place at Higham, nigh
the church, and before that upon the road. As for the smaller man
Ralph had no knowledge of him, for he could see but little of his face,
whereas he was wrapped up in a cloak, for as warm as the evening was,
and wore a slouch hat withal; but his eyes seemed great and wondrous
bright.
But when they were gone Ralph asked Roger if he knew aught of them, or
if they had told him aught. "Nay," said Roger, "they came in here as I
sat alone, and had their meat, and spake nought to me, and little to
each other. I deem them not to be of the Burg. Nay, sooth to say, I
doubt if they be true men."
As he spake came in a sort of the townsmen somewhat merry and noisy,
and called for meat and drink and more lights; so that the board was
brought and the hall was speedily astir. These men, while supper was
being dight, fell to talking to Ralph and Roger, and asking them
questions of whence and whither, but nowise uncourteously: to whom
Roger answered with the tale which he had told Ralph, and Ralph told
what he would, and that was but little.
But when the board was dight they bade them sit down with them and eat.
Ralph sat down at once, and Roger would have served him, but Ralph bade
him do it not, and constrained him to sit by his side, and they two sat
a little apart from the townsmen.
So when they had eaten their fill, and wine was brought, and men were
drinking kindly, Ralph began to ask Roger concerning those women whom
he had seen in the street, and the captives whom he had seen brought in
by the host, and if they were of one kindred, and generally how it was
with them: and he spake somewhat softly as if he would not break into
the talk of the townsmen: but Roger answered him in a loud voice so
that all could hear:
"Yea, lord, I will tell thee the tale of them, which setteth forth well
both the wise policy and the great mercy of the folk of the Burg and
their rulers."
Said Ralph: "Are these women also of the Dry Tree? For I perceive
them to be born of the foes of the Burg."
Now the townsmen had let their talk drop a while to listen to the talk
of the aliens; and Roger answered still in a loud voice: "Nay, nay, it
is not so. These queens are indeed war-taken thralls, but not from
them of the Dry Tree, or they would have been slain at once, like as
the carles of those accursed ones. But these are of the folk of the
Wheat-wearers, even as those whom thou sawest brought to-day amidst the
other spoil. And to this folk the Burg showeth mercy, and whenso the
host goeth against them and over-cometh (and that is well-nigh whenever
they meet) these worthy lords slay no woman of them, but the men only,
whether they be old or young or youngest. As for their women they are
brought hither and sold at the market-cross to the highest bidder. And
this honour they have, that such of them as be fair, and that is the
more part of the younger ones, fetch no ill penny. Yet for my part I
were loth to cheapen such wares: for they make but evil servants,
being proud, and not abiding stripes lightly, or toiling the harder for
them; and they be somewhat too handy with the knife if they deem
themselves put upon. Speak I sooth, my masters?" quoth he, turning
toward them of the town.
Said a burgher somewhat stricken in years, "Nought but sooth; peaceable
men like to me eschew such servants; all the more because of this, that
if one of these queens misbehave with the knife, or strayeth from her
master's bed, the laws of the Burg meddle not therein. For the wise
men say that such folk are no more within the law than kine be, and may
not for their deeds be brought before leet or assize any more than
kine. So that if the master punish her not for her misdoings,
unpunished she needs must go; yea even if her deed be mere murder."
"That is sooth," said a somewhat younger man; "yet whiles it fareth ill
with them at the hands of our women. To wit, my father's brother has
even now come from the war to find his thrall all spoilt by his wife:
and what remedy may he have against his wife? his money is gone, even
as if she had houghed his horse or his best cow."
"Yea," said a third, "we were better without such cattle. A thrust
with a sword and all the tale told, were the better way of dealing with
them."
Said another; "Yet are the queens good websters, and, lacking them,
figured cloth of silk would be far-fetched and dear-bought here."
A young man gaily clad, who had been eyeing the speakers disdainfully,
spake next and said: "Fair sirs, ye are speaking like hypocrites, and
as if your lawful wives were here to hearken to you; whereas ye know
well how goodly these thralls be, and that many of them can be kind
enough withal; and ye would think yourselves but ill bestead if ye
might not cheapen such jewels for your money. Which of you will go to
the Cross next Saturday and there buy him a fairer wife than he can wed
out of our lineages? and a wife withal of whose humours he need take no
more account of than the dullness of his hound or the skittish temper
of his mare, so long as the thong smarts, and the twigs sting."
One or two grinned as he spake, but some bent their brows at him, yet
scarce in earnest, and the talk thereover dropped, nor did Ralph ask
any more questions; for he was somewhat down-hearted, calling to mind
the frank and free maidens of Upmead, and their friendly words and
hearty kisses. And him seemed the world was worse than he had looked
to find it.
Howsoever, the oldest and soberest of the guests, seeing that he was a
stranger and of noble aspect, came unto him and sat by him, and fell to
telling him tales of the wars of the men of the Burg with the
Wheat-wearers; and how in time past, when the town was but little
fenced, the Wheat-wearers had stormed their gates and taken the city,
and had made a great slaughter; but yet had spared many of the
fighting-men, although they had abided there as the masters of them,
and held them enthralled for three generations of men: after which time
the sons' sons of the old Burg-dwellers having grown very many again,
and divers of them being trusted in sundry matters by the conquerors,
who oppressed them but little, rose up against them as occasion served,
in the winter season and the Yule feast, and slew their masters, save
for a few who were hidden away.
"And thereafter," quoth he, "did we make the Burg strong and hard to
win, as ye see it to-day; and we took for our captain the Forest Lord,
who ere-while had dwelt in the clearings of the wildwood, and he wedded
the Fair Lady who was the son's daughter of him who had been our lord
ere the Wheat-wearers overcame us; and we grew safe and free and mighty
again. And the son of the Forest Lord, he whom we call the War-smith,
he it was who beheld the Burg too much given to pleasure, and
delighting in the softness of life; and he took order to harden our
hearts, and to cause all freemen to learn the craft of war and battle,
and let the women and thralls and aliens see to other craftsmanship and
to chaffer; and even so is it done as he would; and ye shall find us
hardy of heart enough, though belike not so joyous as might be. Yet at
least we shall not be easy to overcome."
"So indeed it seemeth," said Ralph. "Yet will I ask of you first one
question, and then another."
"Ask on," said the burgher.
Said Ralph: "How is it that ye, being so strong, should still suffer
them of the Dry Tree, taking a man here and a man there, when ye might
destroy them utterly?"
The Burgher reddened and cleared his throat and said: "Sir, it must be
made clear to you that these evil beasts are no peril to the Burg of
the Four Friths; all the harm they may do us, is as when a cur dog
biteth a man in the calf of the leg; whereby the man shall be grieved
indeed, but the dog slain. Such grief as that they have done us at
whiles: but the grief is paid for thus, that the hunting and slaying
of them keeps our men in good trim, and pleasures them; shortly to say
it, they are the chief deer wherewith our wood is stocked."
He stopped awhile and then went on again and said: "To say sooth they
be not very handy for crushing as a man crushes a wasp, because sorcery
goes with them, and the wiles of one who is their Queen, the evilest
woman who ever spat upon the blessed Host of the Altar: yet is she
strong, a devouring sea of souls, God help us!" And he blessed himself
therewith.
Said Ralph: "Yet a word on these Wheat-wearers; it seemeth that ye
never fail to overcome them in battle?"
"But seldom at least," quoth the Burgher.
Said Ralph: "Then it were no great matter for you to gather a host
overwhelming, and to take their towns and castles, and forbid them
weapons, and make them your thralls to till the land for you which now
they call theirs; so that ye might have of their gettings all save what
were needful for them to live as thralls."
"I deem it were an easy thing," said the burgher.
Quoth Ralph: "Then why do ye not so?"
"It were but a poor game to play," said the burgher. "Such of their
wealth as we have a mind to, we can have now at the cost of a battle or
two, begun one hour and ended the next: were we their masters sitting
down amidst of their hatred, and amidst of their plotting, yea, and in
the very place where that were the hottest and thickest, the battle
would be to begin at every sun's uprising, nor would it be ended at any
sunset. Hah! what sayest thou?"
Said Ralph: "This seemeth to me but the bare truth; yet it is little
after the manner of such masterful men as ye be. But why then do ye
slay all their carles that are taken; whereas ye bear away the women
and make thralls of them at home, that is to say, foes in every house?"
"It may be," said the Burgher, "that this is not amongst the wisest of
our dealings. Yet may we do no otherwise; for thus we swore to do by
all the greatest oaths that we might swear, in the days when we first
cast off their yoke, and yet were not over strong at the first; and now
it hath so grown into a part of our manners, yea, and of our very
hearts and minds, that the slaying of a Wheat-wearer is to us a lighter
matter than the smiting of a rabbit or a fowmart. But now, look you,
fair sir, my company ariseth from table; so I bid thee a good night.
And I give thee a good rede along with the good wish, to wit, that thou
ask not too many questions in this city concerning its foemen: for here
is the stranger looked upon with doubt, if he neither will take the
wages of the Burg for battle, nor hath aught to sell."
Ralph reddened at his word, and the other looked at him steadily as he
spoke, so that Ralph deemed that he mistrusted him: he deemed moreover
that three or four of the others looked hard at him as they went
towards the door, while Roger stood somewhat smiling, and humming a
snatch of an old song.
But when the other guests had left the hostelry, Roger left his
singing, and turned to Ralph and said: "Master, meseems that they
mistrust us, and now maybe is that peril that I spake of nigher than I
deemed when we came into the Burg this morning. And now I would that
we were well out of the Burg and in the merry greenwood again, and it
repents me that I brought thee hither."
"Nay, good fellow," quoth Ralph, "heed it not: besides, it was me, not
thee, that they seemed to doubt of. I will depart hence to-morrow
morning no worser than I came, and leave thee to seek thy fortune here;
and good luck go with thee."
Roger looked hard at him and said: "Not so, young lord; if thou goest
I will go with thee, for thou hast won my heart, I know not how: and I
would verily be thy servant, to follow thee whithersoever thou goest;
for I think that great deeds will come of thee."
This word pleased Ralph, for he was young and lightly put faith in
men's words, and loved to be well thought of, and was fain of good
fellowship withal. So he said: "This is a good word of thine, and I
thank thee for it; and look to it that in my adventures, and the reward
of them thou shalt have thy due share. Lo here my hand on it!"
Roger took his hand, yet therewith his face seemed a little troubled,
but he said nought. Then spoke Ralph: "True it is that I am not fain
to take the wages of the Burg; for it seems to me that they be hard
men, and cruel and joyless, and that their service shall be rather
churlish than knightly. Howbeit, let night bring counsel, and we will
see to this to-morrow; for now I am both sleepy and weary." Therewith
he called the chamberlain, who bore a wax light before him to his
chamber, and he did off his raiment and cast himself on his bed, and
fell asleep straightway, before he knew where Roger was sleeping,
whether it were in the hall or some place else.
CHAPTER 15
How Ralph Departed From the Burg of the Four Friths
Himseemed he had scarce been asleep a minute ere awoke with a sound of
someone saying softly, "Master, master, awake!" So he sat up and
answered softly in his turn: "Who is it? what is amiss, since the
night is yet young?"
"I am thy fellow-farer, Roger," said the speaker, "and this thou hast
to do, get on thy raiment speedily, and take thy weapons without noise,
if thou wouldst not be in the prison of the Burg before sunrise."
Ralph did as he was bidden without more words; for already when he lay
down his heart misgave him that he was in no safe place; he looked to
his weapons and armour that they should not clash, and down they came
into the hall and found the door on the latch; so out they went and
Ralph saw that it was somewhat cloudy; the moon was set and it was
dark, but Ralph knew by the scent that came in on the light wind, and a
little stir of blended sounds, that it was hard on dawning; and even
therewith he heard the challenge of the warders on the walls and their
crying of the hour; and the chimes of the belfry rang clear and loud,
and seeming close above him, two hours and a half after midnight.
Roger spake not, and Ralph was man-at-arms enough to know that he must
hold his peace; and though he longed sore to have his horse Falcon with
him, yet he wotted that it availed not to ask of his horse, since he
durst not ask of his life.
So they went on silently till they were out of the Great Place and came
into a narrow street, and so into another which led them straight into
the houseless space under the wall. Roger led right on as if he knew
the way well, and in a twinkling were they come to a postern in the
wall betwixt the East Gate and the South. By the said postern Ralph
saw certain men standing; and on the earth near by, whereas he was
keen-eyed, he saw more than one man lying moveless.
Spake Roger softly to the men who stood on their feet: "Is the rope
twined?" "Nay, rope-twiner," said one of them. Then Roger turned and
whispered to Ralph: "Friends. Get out thy sword!" Wherewithal the
gate was opened, and they all passed out through the wall, and stood
above the ditch in the angle-nook of a square tower. Then Ralph saw
some of the men stoop and shoot out a broad plank over the ditch, which
was deep but not wide thereabout, and straightway he followed the
others over it, going last save Roger. By then they were on the other
side he saw a glimmer of the dawn in the eastern heaven, but it was
still more than dusk, and no man spoke again. They went on softly
across the plain fields outside the wall, creeping from bush to bush,
and from tree to tree, for here, if nowhere about the circuit of the
Burg, were a few trees growing. Thus they came into a little wood and
passed through it, and then Ralph could see that the men were six
besides Roger; by the glimmer of the growing dawn he saw before them a
space of meadows with high hedges about them, and a dim line that he
took for the roof of a barn or grange, and beyond that a dark mass of
trees.
Still they pressed on without speaking; a dog barked not far off and
the cocks were crowing, and close by them in the meadow a cow lowed and
went hustling over the bents and the long, unbitten buttercups. Day
grew apace, and by then they were under the barn-gable which he had
seen aloof he saw the other roofs of the grange and heard the bleating
of sheep. And now he saw those six men clearly, and noted that one of
them was very big and tall, and one small and slender, and it came into
his mind that these two were none other than the twain whom he had come
upon the last night sitting in the hall of the Flower de Luce.
Even therewith came a man to the gate of the sheep-cote by the grange,
and caught sight of them, and had the wits to run back at once shouting
out: "Hugh, Wat, Richard, and all ye, out with you, out a doors! Here
be men! Ware the Dry Tree! Bows and bills! Bows and bills!"
With that those fellows of Ralph made no more ado, but set off running
at their best toward the wood aforesaid, which crowned the slope
leading up from the grange, and now took no care to go softly, nor
heeded the clashing of their armour. Ralph ran with the best and
entered the wood alongside the slim youth aforesaid, who stayed not at
the wood's edge but went on running still: but Ralph stayed and turned
to see what was toward, and beheld how that tall man was the last of
their company, and ere he entered the wood turned about with a bent bow
in his hand, and even as he nocked the shaft, the men from the Grange,
who were seven in all, came running out from behind the barn-gable,
crying out: "Ho thieves! ho ye of the Dry Tree, abide till we come!
flee not from handy strokes." The tall man had the shaft to his ear in
a twinkling, and loosed straightway, and nocked and loosed another
shaft without staying to note how the first had sped. But Ralph saw
that a man was before each of the shafts, and had fallen to earth,
though he had no time to see aught else, for even therewith the tall
man caught him by the hand, and crying out, "The third time!" ran on
with him after the rest of their company; and whereas he was
long-legged and Ralph lightfooted, they speedily came up with them, who
were running still, but laughing as they ran, and jeering at the men of
the Burg; and the tall man shouted out to them: "Yea, lads, the
counterfeit Dry Tree that they have raised in the Burg shall be dry
enough this time." "Truly," said another, "till we come to water it
with the blood of these wretches."
"Well, well, get on," said a third, "waste not your wind in talk; those
carles will make but a short run of it to the walls long as it was for
us, creeping and creeping as we behoved to."
The long man laughed; "Thou sayest sooth," said he, "but thou art the
longest winded of all in talking: get on, lads."
They laughed again at his word and sped on with less noise; while Ralph
thought within himself that he was come into strange company, for now
he knew well that the big man was even he whom he had first met at the
churchyard gate of the thorp under Bear Hill. Yet he deemed that there
was nought for it now but to go on.
Within a while they all slacked somewhat, and presently did but walk,
though swiftly, through the paths of the thicket, which Ralph deemed
full surely was part of that side of the Wood Perilous that lay south
of the Burg of the Four Friths. And now Roger joined himself to him,
and spake to him aloud and said: "So, fair master, thou art out of the
peril of death for this bout."
"Art thou all so sure of that?" quoth Ralph, "or who are these that be
with us? meseems they smell of the Dry Tree."
"Yea, or rebels and runaways therefrom," said Roger, with a dry grin.
"But whosoever they may be, thou shalt see that they will suffer us to
depart whither we will, if we like not their company. I will be thy
warrant thereof."
"Moreover," said Ralph, "I have lost Falcon my horse; it is a sore miss
of him."
"Maybe," quoth Roger, "but at least thou hast saved thy skin; and
whereas there are many horses on the earth, there is but one skin of
thine: be content; if thou wilt, thou shall win somewhat in exchange
for thine horse."
Ralph smiled, but somewhat sourly, and even therewith he heard a shrill
whistle a little aloof, and the men stayed and held their peace, for
they were talking together freely again now. Then the big man put his
fingers to his mouth and whistled again in answer, a third whistle
answered him; and lo, presently, as their company hastened on, the
voices of men, and anon they came into a little wood-lawn wherein
standing about or lying on the grass beside their horses were more than
a score of men well armed, but without any banner or token, and all in
white armour with white Gaberdines thereover; and they had with them,
as Ralph judged, some dozen of horses more than they needed for their
own riding.
Great was the joy at this meeting, and there was embracing and kissing
of friends: but Ralph noted that no man embraced that slender youth,
and that he held him somewhat aloof from the others, and all seemed to
do him reverence.
Now spake one of the runaways: "Well, lads, here be all we four well
met again along with those twain who came to help us at our pinch, as
their wont is, and Roger withal, good at need again, and a friend of
his, as it seemeth, and whom we know not. See ye to that."
Then stood forth the big man and said: "He is a fair young knight, as
ye may see; and he rideth seeking adventures, and Roger did us to wit
that he was abiding in the Burg at his peril, and would have him away,
even if it were somewhat against his will: and we were willing that it
should be so, all the more as I have a guess concerning what he is; and
a foreseeing man might think that luck should go with him." Therewith
he turned to Ralph and said: "How say ye, fair sir, will ye take
guesting with us a while and learn our ways?"
Said Ralph: "Certain I am that whither ye will have me go, thither
must I; yet I deem that I have an errand that lies not your way.
Therefore if I go with you, ye must so look upon it that I am in your
fellowship as one compelled. To be short with you, I crave leave to
depart and go mine own road."
As he spoke he saw the youth walking up and down in short turns; but
his face he could scarce see at all, what for his slouched hat, what
for his cloak; and at last he saw him go up to the tall man and speak
softly to him awhile. The tall man nodded his head, and as the youth
drew right back nigh to the thicket, spake to Ralph again.
"Fair sir, we grant thine asking; and add this thereto that we give
thee the man who has joined himself to thee, Roger of the Rope-walk to
wit, to help thee on the road, so that thou mayst not turn thy face
back to the Burg of the Four Friths, where thine errand, and thy life
withal, were soon sped now, or run into any other trap which the Wood
Perilous may have for thee. And yet if thou think better of it, thou
mayst come with us straightway; for we have nought to do to tarry here
any longer. And in any case, here is a good horse that we will give
thee, since thou hast lost thy steed; and Roger who rideth with thee,
he also is well horsed."
Ralph looked hard at the big man, who now had his salade thrown back
from his face, to see if he gave any token of jeering or malice, but
could see nought such: nay, his face was grave and serious, not
ill-fashioned, though it were both long and broad like his body: his
cheek-bones somewhat high, his eyes grey and middling great, and
looking, as it were, far away.
Now deems Ralph that as for a trap of the Wood Perilous, he had already
fallen into the trap; for he scarce needed to be told that these were
men of the Dry Tree. He knew also that it was Roger who had led him
into this trap, although he deemed it done with no malice against him.
So he said to himself that if he went with Roger he but went a
roundabout road to the Dry Tree; so that he was well nigh choosing to
go on with their company. Yet again he thought that something might
well befall which would free him from that fellowship if he went with
Roger alone; whereas if he went with the others it was not that he
might be, but that he was already of the fellowship of the Dry Tree,
and most like would go straight thence to their stronghold. So he
spake as soberly as the tall man had done.
"Since ye give me the choice, fair sir, I will depart hence with Roger
alone, whom ye call my man, though to me he seemeth to be yours.
Howbeit, he has led me to you once, and belike will do so once more."
"Yea," quoth the big man smiling no whit more than erst, "and that will
make the fourth time. Depart then, fair sir, and take this word with
thee that I wish thee good and not evil."
CHAPTER 16
Ralph Rideth the Wood Perilous Again
Now Roger led up to Ralph a strong horse, red roan of hue, duly
harnessed for war, and he himself had a good grey horse, and they
mounted at once, and Ralph rode slowly away through the wood at his
horse's will, for he was pondering all that had befallen him, and
wondering what next should hap. Meanwhile those others had not
loitered, but were a-horseback at once, and went their ways from Ralph
through the wildwood.
Nought spake Ralph for a while till Roger came close up to him and
said: "Whither shall we betake us, fair lord? hast thou an inkling of
the road whereon lies thine errand?"
Now to Ralph this seemed but mockery, and he answered sharply: "I wot
not, thou wilt lead whither thou wilt, even as thou hast trained me
hitherward with lies and a forged tale. I suppose thou wilt lead me
now by some roundabout road to the stronghold of the Dry Tree. It
matters little, since thou durst not lead me back into the Burg. Yet
now I come to think of it, it is evil to be alone with a found out
traitor and liar; and I had belike have done better to go with their
company."
"Nay nay," quoth Roger, "thou art angry, and I marvel not thereat; but
let thy wrath run off thee if thou mayest; for indeed what I have told
thee of myself and my griefs is not all mere lying. Neither was it any
lie that thou wert in peril of thy life amongst those tyrants of the
Burg; thou with thy manly bearing, and free tongue, and bred, as I
judge, to hate cruel deeds and injustice. Such freedom they cannot
away with in that fellowship of hard men-at-arms; and soon hadst thou
come to harm amongst them. And further, let alone that it is not ill
to be sundered from yonder company, who mayhap will have rough work to
do or ever they win home, I have nought to do to bring thee to Hampton
under Scaur if thou hast no will to go thither: though certes I would
lead thee some whither, whereof thou shalt ask me nought as now; yet
will I say thereof this much, that there thou shalt be both safe and
well at ease. Now lastly know this, that whatever I have done, I have
done it to do thee good and not ill; and there is also another one,
whom I will not name to thee, who wisheth thee better yet, by the token
of those two strokes stricken by thee in the Wood Perilous before
yesterday was a day."
Now when Ralph heard those last words, such strong and sweet hope and
desire stirred in him to see that woman of the Want-ways of the Wood
Perilous that he forgat all else, except that he must nowise fall to
strife with Roger, lest they should sunder, and he should lose the help
of him, which he now deemed would bring him to sight of her whom he had
unwittingly come to long for more than aught else; so he spake to Roger
quietly and humbly: "Well, faring-fellow, thou seest how I am little
more than a lad, and have fallen into matters mighty and perilous,
which I may not deal with of my own strength, at least until I get
nigher to them so that I may look them in the eyes, and strike a stroke
or two on them if they be at enmity with me. So I bid thee lead me
whither thou wilt, and if thou be a traitor to me, on thine own head be
it; in good sooth, since I know nought of this wood and since I might
go astray and so come back to the Burg where be those whom thou hast
now made my foemen, I am content to take thee on thy word, and to hope
the best of thee, and ask no question of thee, save whitherward."
"Fair sir," said Roger, "away from this place at least; for we are as
yet over nigh to the Burg to be safe: but as to elsewhither we may
wend, thereof we may speak on the road as we have leisure."
Therewith he smote his horse with his heel and they went forward at a
smart trot, for the horses were unwearied, and the wood thereabouts of
beech and clear of underwood; and Roger seemed to know his way well,
and made no fumbling over it.
Four hours or more gone, the wood thinned and the beeches failed, and
they came to a country, still waste, of little low hills, stony for the
more part, beset with scraggy thorn-bushes, and here and there some
other berry-tree sown by the birds. Then said Roger: "Now I deem us
well out of the peril of them of the Burg, who if they follow the chase
as far as the sundering of us and the others, will heed our slot
nothing, but will follow on that of the company: so we may breathe our
horses a little, though their bait will be but small in this rough
waste: therein we are better off than they, for lo you, saddle bags on
my nag and meat and drink therein."
So they lighted down and let their horses graze what they could, while
they ate and drank; amidst which Ralph again asked Roger of whither
they were going. Said Roger: "I shall lead thee to a good harbour,
and a noble house of a master of mine, wherein thou mayst dwell certain
days, if thou hast a mind thereto, not without solace maybe."
"And this master," said Ralph, "is he of the Dry Tree?" Said Roger: "I
scarce know how to answer thee without lying: but this I say, that
whether he be or not, this is true; amongst those men I have friends
and amongst them foes; but fate bindeth me to them for a while." Said
Ralph reddening: "Be there any women amongst them?" "Yea, yea," quoth
Roger, smiling a little, "doubt not thereof."
"And that Lady of the Dry Tree," quoth Ralph, reddening yet more, but
holding up his head, "that woman whereof the Burgher spoke so bitterly,
threatening her with torments and death if they might but lay hold of
her; what wilt thou tell me concerning her?" "But little," said Roger,
"save this, that thou desirest to see her, and that thou mayest have
thy will thereon if thou wilt be guided by me."
Ralph hearkened as if he heeded little what Roger said; but presently
he rose up and walked to and fro in short turns with knit brows as one
pondering a hard matter. He spake nought, and Roger seemed to heed him
nothing, though in sooth he looked at him askance from time to time,
till at last he came and lay down again by Roger, and in a while he
spake: "I wot not why ye of the Dry Tree want me, or what ye will do
with me; and but for one thing I would even now ride away from thee at
all adventure."
Roger said: "All this ye shall learn later on, and shalt find it but a
simple matter; and meanwhile I tell thee again that all is for thy gain
and thy pleasure. So now ride away if thou wilt; who hindereth thee?
certes not I."
"Nay," said Ralph, "I will ride with thee first to that fair house; and
afterwards we shall see what is to hap." "Yea," quoth Roger, "then let
us to horse straightway, so that we may be there if not before dark
night yet at least before bright morn; for it is yet far away."
CHAPTER 17
Ralph Cometh to the House of Abundance
Therewithal they gat to horse and rode away through that stony land,
wherein was no river, but for water many pools in the bottoms, with
little brooks running from them. But after a while they came upon a
ridge somewhat high, on the further side whereof was a wide valley
well-grassed and with few trees, and no habitation of man that they
might see. But a wide river ran down the midst of it; and it was now
four hours after noon. Quoth Roger: "The day wears and we shall by no
means reach harbour before dark night, even if we do our best: art thou
well used to the water, lord?" "Much as a mallard is," said Ralph.
Said Roger: "That is well, for though there is a ford some mile and a
half down stream, for that same reason it is the way whereby men mostly
cross the water into the wildwood; and here again we are more like to
meet foes than well-wishers; or at the least there will be question of
who we are, and whence and whither; and we may stumble in our answers."
Said Ralph: "There is no need to tarry, ride we down to the water."
So did they, and took the water, which was deep, but not swift. On the
further side they clomb up a hill somewhat steep; at the crown they
drew rein to give their horses breath, and Ralph turned in his saddle
and looked down on to the valley, and as aforesaid he was clear-sighted
and far-sighted; now he said: "Fellow-farer, I see the riding of folk
down below there, and meseems they be spurring toward the water; and
they have weapons: there! dost thou not see the gleam?"
"I will take thy word for it, fair sir," said Roger, "and will even
spur, since they be the first men whom we have seen since we left the
thickets." And therewith he went off at a hand gallop, and Ralph
followed him without more ado.
They rode up hill and down dale of a grassy downland, till at last they
saw a wood before them again, and soon drew rein under the boughs; for
now were their horses somewhat wearied. Then said Ralph: "Here have
we ridden a fair land, and seen neither house nor herd, neither
sheep-cote nor shepherd. I wonder thereat."
Said Roger: "Thou wouldst wonder the less didst thou know the story of
it." "What story?" said Ralph. Quoth Roger: "A story of war and
wasting." "Yea?" said Ralph, "yet surely some bold knight or baron hath
rights in the land, and might be free to build him a strong house and
gather men to him to guard the shepherds and husbandmen from burners
and lifters." "Sooth is that," said Roger; "but there are other things
in the tale." "What things?" said Ralph. Quoth Roger: "Ill hap and
sorrow and the Hand of Fate and great Sorcery." "And dastards withal?"
said Ralph. "Even so," said Roger, "yet mingled with valiant men.
Over long is the tale to tell as now, so low as the sun is; so now ride
we on with little fear of foemen. For look you, this wood, like the
thickets about the Burg of the Four Friths, hath an evil name, and few
folk ride it uncompelled; therefore it is the safer for us. And yet I
will say this to thee, that whereas awhile agone thou mightest have
departed from me with little peril of aught save the stumbling on some
of the riders of the Burg of the Four Friths, departing from me now
will be a hard matter to thee; for the saints in Heaven only know
whitherward thou shouldest come, if thou wert to guide thyself now.
This a rough word, but a true one, so help me God and Saint Michael!
What sayest thou; art thou content, or wilt thou cast hard words at me
again?"
So it was that for all that had come and gone Ralph was light-hearted
and happy; so he laughed and said: "Content were I, even if I were not
compelled thereto. For my heart tells me of new things, and marvellous
and joyous that I shall see ere long."
"And thine heart lieth not," said Roger, "for amidst of this wood is
the house where we shall have guesting to-night, which will be to thee,
belike, the door of life and many marvels. For thence have folk sought
ere now to the WELL AT THE WORLD'S END."
Ralph turned to him sharply and said: "Many times in these few days
have I heard that word. Dost thou know the meaning thereof? For as to
me I know it not." Said Roger: "Thou mayest well be as wise as I am
thereon: belike men seek to it for their much thriving, and oftenest
find it not. Yet have I heard that they be the likeliest with whom all
women are in love."
Ralph held his peace, but Roger noted that he reddened at the word.
Now they got on horseback again, for they had lighted down to breathe
their beasts, and they rode on and on, and never was Roger at fault:
long was the way and perforce they rested at whiles, so that night fell
upon them in the wood, but the moon rose withal. So night being fairly
come, they rested a good while, as it would be dawn before moonset.
Then they rode on again, till now the summer night grew old and waned,
but the wood hid the beginnings of dawn.
At last they came out of the close wood suddenly into an open plain,
and now, as the twilight of the dawn was passing into early day, they
saw that wide grassy meadows and tilled fields lay before them, with a
little river running through the plain; and amidst the meadows, on a
green mound, was a white castle, strong, and well built, though not of
the biggest.
Roger pointed to it, and said, "Now we are come home," and cried on his
wearied beast, who for his part seemed to see the end of his journey.
They splashed through a ford of the river and came to the gate of the
castle as day drew on apace; Roger blew a blast on a great horn that
hung on the gate, and Ralph looking round deemed he had never seen
fairer building than in the castle, what he could see of it, and yet it
was built from of old. They waited no long while before they were
answered; but whereas Ralph looked to see armed gatewards peer from the
battlements or the shot window, and a porter espying them through a
lattice, it happened in no such way, but without more ado the wicket
was opened to them by a tall old woman, gaunt and grey, who greeted
them courteously: Roger lighted down and Ralph did in likewise, and
they led their horses through the gate into the court of the castle;
the old woman going before them till they came to the hall door, which
she opened to them, and taking the reins of their horses led them away
to the stable, while those twain entered the hall, which was as goodly
as might be. Roger led Ralph up to a board on the dais, whereon there
was meat and drink enow, and Ralph made his way-leader sit down by him,
and they fell to. There was no serving-man to wait on them nor a carle
of any kind did they see; the old woman only, coming back from the
horses, served them at table. Ever as she went about she looked long
on Ralph, and seemed as if she would have spoken to him, but as often,
she glanced at Roger and forbore.
So when they were well nigh done with their meat Ralph spake to the
carline and said: "Belike the lord or the lady of this house are abed
and we shall not see them till the morrow?"
Ere the carline could speak Roger broke in and said: "There is neither
lord nor lady in the castle as now, nor belike will there be to-morrow
morning, or rather, before noon on this day; so now ye were better to
let this dame lead thee to bed, and let the next hours take care of
themselves."
"So be it," said Ralph, who was by this time heartily wearied, "shall
we two lie in the same chamber?"
"Nay," said the carline shortly, "lodging for the master and lodging
for the man are two different things."
Roger laughed and said nought, and Ralph gave him good night, and
followed the carline nothing loth, who led him to a fair chamber over
the solar, as if he had been the very master of the castle, and he lay
down in a very goodly bed, nor troubled himself as to where Roger lay,
nor indeed of aught else, nor did he dream of Burg, or wood, or castle,
or man, or woman; but lay still like the image of his father's father
on the painted tomb in the choir of St. Laurence of Upmeads.
CHAPTER 18
Of Ralph in the Castle of Abundance
Broad lay the sun upon the plain amidst the wildwood when he awoke and
sprang out of bed and looked out of the window (for the chamber was in
the gable of the hall and there was nought of the castle beyond it). It
was but little after noon of a fair June day, for Ralph had slumbered
as it behoved a young man. The light wind bore into the chamber the
sweet scents of the early summer, the chief of all of them being the
savour of the new-cut grass, for about the wide meadows the carles and
queens were awork at the beginning of hay harvest; and late as it was
in the day, more than one blackbird was singing from the bushes of the
castle pleasance. Ralph sighed for very pleasure of life before he had
yet well remembered where he was or what had befallen of late; but as
he stood at the window and gazed over the meadows, and the memory of
all came back to him, he sighed once more for a lack of somewhat that
came into his heart, and he smiled shamefacedly, though there was no
one near, as his thought bade him wonder if amongst the haymaking women
yonder there were any as fair as those yellow-clad thrall-women of the
Burg; and as he turned from the window a new hope made his heart beat,
for he deemed that he had been brought to that house that he might meet
some one who should change his life and make him a new man.
So he did on his raiment and went his ways down to the hall, and looked
about for Roger, but found him not, nor any one else save the carline,
who presently came in from the buttery, and of whom he asked, where was
Roger. Quoth she: "He has been gone these six hours, but hath left a
word for thee, lord, to wit, that he beseeches thee to abide him here
for two days at the least, and thereafter thou art free to go if thou
wilt. But as for me" (and therewith she smiled on him as sweetly as
her wrinkled old face might compass) "I say to thee, abide beyond those
two days if Roger cometh not, and as long as thou art here I will make
thee all the cheer I may. And who knoweth but thou mayest meet worthy
adventures here. Such have ere now befallen good knights in this house
or anigh it."
"I thank thee, mother," quoth Ralph, "and it is like that I may abide
here beyond the two days if the adventure befall me not ere then. But
at least I will bide the eating of my dinner here to-day."
"Well is thee, fair lord," said the carline. "If thou wilt but walk in
the meadow but a little half hour all shall be ready for thee.
Forsooth it had been dight before now, but that I waited thy coming
forth from thy chamber, for I would not wake thee. And the saints be
praised for the long sweet sleep that hath painted thy goodly cheeks."
So saying she hurried off to the buttery, leaving Ralph laughing at her
outspoken flattering words.
Then he got him out of the hall and the castle, for no door was shut,
and there was no man to be seen within or about the house. So he
walked to and fro the meadow and saw the neat-herds in the pasture, and
the hay-making folk beyond them, and the sound of their voices came to
him on the little airs that were breathing. He thought he would talk
to some of these folk ere the world was much older, and also he noted
between the river and the wood many cots of the husbandmen trimly
builded and thatched, and amidst them a little church, white and
delicate of fashion; but as now his face was set toward the river
because of the hot day. He came to a pool a little below where a
wooden foot-bridge crossed the water, and about the pool were willows
growing, which had not been shrouded these eight years, and the water
was clear as glass with a bottom of fine sand. There then he bathed
him, and as he sported in the water he bethought him of the long smooth
reaches of Upmeads Water, and the swimming low down amidst the long
swinging weeds between the chuckle of the reed sparrows, when the sun
was new risen in the July morning. When he stood on the grass again,
what with the bright weathe
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