BIRDALONE COMETH TO THE CASTLE OF THE QUEST, HEARETH THE TALE THEREOF
FROM LEONARD, AND DEPARTETH THENCE BY THE SENDING BOAT.
She arose betimes on the morrow, and was out of Greenford so soon as
the gates were open, and at first made all speed that she might toward
the Castle of the Quest; and nothing hindered her, for the land was
verily in good peace, and she might have come there if she would before
sunset, for all whom she met furthered her. But as the day waned her
courage waned with it, so that at last she stayed some six miles short
of the house, and craved shelter at a yeoman’s stead there, which was
granted her with all kindness; and they made much of her, and she told
them her vow of the sallet, and they deemed nought save that she was a
young man.
She departed early in the morning with their God-speed, and while the
day was yet young came into the meadows before the castle, and saw the
towers thereof rising up before her: then she checked her horse, and
rode on no faster than a foot’s pace; yet as slow as she might ride,
needs must she get to the gate while the day was yet young.
So came Birdalone by that bower wherein she had slept that first night
she came to the castle; and she reined up to look on it; and as she sat
there gazing, came a man out from it clad as a man of religion; and her
heart beat quick, and she was like to fall from her horse, for there
came into her mind what the townsman had said, that the Black Squire
had gone into religion. But the hermit came towards her with a cup of
water in his hand, and he cast his hood aback from him, and she saw at
once that it was Leonard the priest, and though it was not the friend
whom she sought, yet was she glad that it was a friend; but he came and
stood by her, and said: Hail, wayfarer! wilt thou drink of our well and
rest thee a while? So she took the cup and drank of the water, looking
kindly on him, while he wondered at the beauty of her hand, and
misdoubted him. Then she gave him back the cup and lighted down off her
horse, and took the sallet from her head, and spake: I may not pass by
a friend without a word; think if thou hast not seen me before?
Then he knew her, and might not refrain him, but cast his arms about
her and kissed her, weeping; and she said: It is sweet to me to find a
friend after what I have been told of yonder house. Yea, said he, and
art thou going up thither? Certes, said she, and why not? Said he: They
are gone, and all gone! How and whither? said she. But I must full
certainly go thither at once; I will go afoot with thee; do thou tether
my horse till thou comest back.
He said: But wilt not thou come back? I know not, she said: I know
nought save that I would go thither; let it be enough that I suffer
thee to go with me, and on the way thou shalt tell me what thou canst
of the tale.
Then went Leonard and tethered the horse, and they went together afoot
to the gate; and Birdalone told what she had heard of Arthur and Hugh;
and Leonard said: This is true, and there is not much else to be said.
When the Black Squire came back from the leaguer of the Red Hold, and
had heard before of thy departure, he was heavy of mood and few-spoken,
and wandered about as one who might find no rest; yet was he not stern
with Atra, who for her part was no less heavy-hearted: soothly a sad
company we were, and it was somewhat better when my Lord Arthur went
his ways from us; and indeed eager he was to be gone; and it could be
seen of him that he was fain of the toil and peril which they of
Greenford offered him. Then in some four months spake my lord Hugh that
he also would be gone to a place where were both a land and folk that
would look friendly on him; so he went with my lady Viridis and my lady
Aurea, and they had Atra also with them; and me also they would have
had, but my heart failed me to leave the place where I had been so glad
and so sorry with thee; death had been better; wherefore in yonder
bower as in an hermitage I serve God and abide my time. But though I
wot nought of where is gone the Black Squire, I know whereto those four
are gone, and it is but a seven days’ ride hence, and the land is
goodly and peaceable, and if they be not dead, most like they be there
yet. How sayest thou then, thou dearest and kindest, wilt thou thither
to them? For if so, I may well lead thee thither.
Birdalone shook her head. Nay, she said, I deem that I am drawn
elsewhither, but soon I shall tell thee. Lo now the gate. But ere we
enter, tell me of Sir Geoffrey of Lea, and why it was that they might
not abide the uncouth things, or if there were any such. Spake Leonard:
Things uncouth there were, and I was called upon to lay them, and I did
as biddeth Holy Church in all wise, but prevailed not against them, and
still were they seen and heard, till folk might endure it no longer.
And what like were these things? said Birdalone, and are they yet seen
and heard? Said Leonard: Strange it is, but last night I went into the
great hall where they mostly betid, and laid me down there, as whiles I
do, for I fear them not, and would see if they yet appear; but all
night came nothing at all. As to the likeness of them . . . Then he
stopped, but said presently: Hard it is to tell thee of them, but needs
must I. There be two of these things; and one is an image of a tall
woman of middle-age, red-haired, white-skinned, and meagre, and whiles
she has a twiggen rod in her hand, and whiles a naked short sword, and
whiles nought at all. But the voice of her is cursing and blaspheming
and ill-saying.
Said Birdalone: This is then a fetch of my witch-mistress of whom I
told thee erst, and the image of her; what is the other? Said Leonard:
I were fain not to tell thee. Yet needs must thou, said Birdalone. Dear
lady, said Leonard, the other is an image of thee, and even most like
unto thee; but whiles clad in a scanty grey coat and barefoot, and
whiles clad in a fair green gown goodly broidered, and broidered shoon;
and whiles all mother-naked.
And what voice cometh from mine image? said Birdalone, smiling, yet
somewhat pale withal. Said Leonard: One while a voice of sweet singing,
as of a bird in the brake, and that is when thou art clad; and again,
when thou art naked, a voice of shrieking and wailing, as of one
enduring torments.
Spake Birdalone: And when did these wonders begin? Said he: Not till
after Sir Hugh and thy she-friends were gone hence.
Pondered Birdalone a little; then she said: I see herein the malice of
my witch-mistress; she would not send these fetches while Hugh was
here, lest he should turn to seeking me with all his might. But when
they departed, she would have the castle waste, and then she sent them,
wotting that thereby she would rid her of Sir Geoffrey of Lea; while,
on the other hand, I was nought so much unto him that he would spend
all his life seeking me. But now I deem I know so much of her that I
may bid thee to look on her as dead if these fetches come not again
within a little while. Then mayst thou send and do Sir Geoffrey to wit
thereof, and belike he will come back again; and fain were I thereof
for it will be merrier if the Castle of the Quest be dwelt in once
more.
Yea, verily, said Leonard; but far merrier yet wert thou to dwell
there. Nay, she said, but now I see that it is not fated for me. Let us
go in, for I would get to what I would do.
So therewith they passed under the shadow of the archway, and Birdalone
stayed not but went straightway into the hall, and through it; and the
priest, who lagged somewhat behind her speedy feet, cried out unto her:
Whither wilt thou? what chamber wilt thou visit first? But she stayed
not, and spake to him over her shoulder as she went: Follow me if thou
wilt; I have but one place only to come to ere I leave the Castle of
the Quest, save I must needs turn back on my footsteps.
Then Leonard came up with her, and she went her ways out of the hall,
and out on to the waterswale of the castle, and so to the little haven
of the water-gate. There Birdalone looked about her eagerly; then she
turned to Leonard and pointed with her finger and said: Lo thou! there
yet lieth my ferry of old time, the Sending Boat; now wot I wherefore I
was drawn hither. And her eyes glittered and her body quivered as she
spake.
Yea forsooth, said Leonard, there it lieth; who of all folk in the
castle had durst to touch it? But what hath it to do with thee, O
kindest lady?
Friend, she said, if this day weareth, and I am yet within these walls,
then meseemeth there must I abide for evermore; and there perchance
shall I meet that seeming of myself, maybe for this night, maybe for
ever, till I die here in this castle void of all that I love, and I
over-young for it, friend. And I know now that there is hope within me;
for I bethink me of a dear friend over yonder water of whom I have
never told any, nor will tell thee now, save this, that she is the
wisdom of my life.
Wherefore now I will try this ferry and wot if the wight thereof will
yet obey the voice of the speaker of the spell, who has shed of her
blood to pay therefor. Put not forth a hand therefore nor speak a word
to let me, but take this farewell of me, with my pity and such love as
I may give thee, and let me go, and think kindly of me.
Then she went up to him, and laid her hands upon his shoulders, and
kissed him, and turned about without more ado and stepped into the
boat; then she sat down and stripped her arm of its sleeve, and drew
forth a knife and let blood of her arm, and then arose and smeared stem
and stern therewith, and then sat down with her face to the stern and
sang:
The red raven-wine now
Hast thou drunk, stern and bow;
Wake then and awake
And the Northward way take:
The way of the Wenders forth over the flood,
For the will of the Senders is blent with the blood.
Then she abode a little, while Leonard stood staring on her speechless
with grief and blinded with his bitter tears, till the boat began to
move under her, and presently glided out of the little haven into the
wide lake; then she turned her face back unto him and waved her hand,
and he knelt down and blessed her, weeping. And so she vanished away
from before him.