“My Lord, I’ll e’en follow her to the world’s end.”
“Thou art a good lad, and I trust thee”; and as he spoke, my Lord
smiled.
True, as I swore fealty to my Lady, I little recked how soon ’t would be
before I rode away behind her!
Just then the huntsman wound his horn, and we all rode out over the
drawbridge and away into the bright sun and green fields a-hawking. We
made a merry day of it. The hounds sped before, starting up many a
creature that fled affrighted from us.
My Lady rode, not her own palfrey, which was a gentle animal but of
little speed, but a chestnut mare, one specially cherished by Comte
Gaston, even though she was a thought too light for his bulk.
For many a day the mare had been but exercised about the court, and
being a high-mettled creature, soon grew fretted by the flapping of my
Lady’s habit,—a thing to which she was ill-used.
We were pricking along at a good pace, my Lady having her hands full
with holding down the mare, when suddenly from the grass at her very
feet darted out a fallow deer, a little thing scarcely more than a month
old. The mare started, threw up her head, and ere I knew what had
befallen, had wheeled about and started off like the wind.
“Jehan,” I heard my Lady call; and turning my own horse about, I spurred
him after the flying mare. On we sped; the others, passing through a
copse, had missed seeing our plight.
“Hold fast, mistress,” shouted I, while I strove with whip and spur to
get beside her.
Little by little we crept forward, my horse and I, and after that day I
ever forbore to call him a poor thing. First his nose pressed the mare’s
thigh, and then he came up with the saddle-cloth, and then a bit ahead
of that, till I called,—
“Loose your foot from the stirrup, mistress.”
Even as I spoke I could see that she did it.
“Lean towards me and drop the reins, mistress”; and as I spoke I
switched my poor nag and leaned from the saddle, took my mistress about
the waist, and pulled her clear of the mare. It took but a moment more
to set her gently on the ground and start after the mare, since I knew,
if aught befell her, our day of pleasuring would have but an ill ending.
Freed from the flapping of the skirt, she gradually slackened her pace,
and erelong I was leading her back to where my Lady stood with the tall
marsh grasses waving about her feet.
“Help me to mount, Jehan,” saith she, whilst I was turning about in my
mind how to urge her to let me ride the mare while she took the steadier
horse.
“Pray, mistress,” I began; but she cut me short with,—
“Have a care that my cousin knows not of this mishap, since it fairly
shames me to think how the mare bested me. But I was not affrighted.”
At this she gave a side look at me, but I knew her too well to show that
I had noted her white face. I did not answer, but pondered if it was not
seemlier to guard my mistress even against herself. When she noted me
standing and switching of the grass, she crieth out,—
“Sure, Jehan, it would be an unkind part to tell that I was like to be
run with on my fête day, since all has come out well. Promise now that
thou wilt hold thy peace.”
So promise I did, and none guessed how near we had come to grief, though
my Lord, when we drew up with them, wondered why the mare looked so hard
ridden!
’Twas now well on to noon, and we rested by the side of a clear stream,
and ate of squirrels fresh roasted, and of little fishes drawn from the
brook but half an hour before, and of the honey of the wild bee spread
on cakes of white flour, and of spices and of wine.
“Hast had a happy day, little one?” saith my Lord, as we sat ’neath the
trees; and my mistress, turning, laid her cheek on his hand and said,—
“Dear Cousin, never can I thank thee enough for all that thou hast done
for me”; and the tears like to have fallen.
“To see thee happy gives me all the thanks I crave”; and my Lord fetched
a deep sigh, thinking belike of that son whom his own hand had slain.
Then, when the sun grew low, homeward we turned, the pages singing as we
rode along,—
“White as a lily, more ruddy than the rose,
Brilliant as a ruby that with spark of fire glows,
Your beauty and your loveliness to me all peerless shows,
White as a lily, more ruddy than the rose.
My heart for your heart watches; it pleaseth me to know
That to all other lovers the law of love I show.
White as a lily, more ruddy than the rose,
Brilliant as a ruby that with spark of fire glows.”