BIRDALONE COMETH AGAIN TO THE ISLE OF QUEENS, AND FINDETH A PERILOUS
ADVENTURE THEREIN.
It was not yet daybreak when Birdalone came ashore again, and the moon
was down, and it was dark; wherefore she durst not go up on the land,
but lay down in the ferry and fell asleep there. When she woke again it
was broad daylight, the sun was up, and a little ripple was running
over the face of the water. She stepped ashore straightway, and looked
up the land and to the right hand and the left, and saw at once that it
was indeed the Isle of Queens, and the house stood trim and lovely as
of old time; then she longed somewhat to tread the green meadow a
little, for yet young was the day, and she saw nought stirring save the
throstle and a few small beasts. However, she said to herself that she
would go nowhere nigh to the goodly house wherein abode those images of
death. Yet her body longed so sore for the springtide freshness of the
grass, and was so bewooed of the flowery scent thereof, that though she
durst not go unarmed, she did off her footgear and went stealing softly
barefoot and with naked legs over the embroidered greensward, saying
aloud to herself: If run for the ferry I needs must, lighter shall I
run so dight.
Nonetheless, she had gone but a little way ere a terror took hold of
her, though she saw no child of Adam anigh, and she turned and ran back
swiftly to her old place and sat down under a twisted oak-tree hard by
the Sending Boat, and abode there panting and quaking, and scarce
daring to look up from the grass for a while. Then her heart came back
to her, and she laughed, and said to herself: I am a fool, for I need
fear nought on this Isle of Queens save women like myself.
Yet she sat there a little while longer without stirring; then she
stood up and looked keenly around, and, as aforesaid, exceeding
far-sighted she was; but still she saw neither man nor maid nor
suckling child.
Then her eyes sought the lips of the lake, and rested on a little bight
some stone’s throw ahead of the Sending Boat, where, a little back from
the water, slim willows made a veil betwixt the water of the meadow;
and she looked, and saw how pleasant a place it were for a one to stand
and look on the ripple just left, while the water dripped from the
clear body on to the grass. And her bare feet fell to telling her clad
sides of the sweet coolness of the water, and waited for no naysay, but
lightly bore her toward the willowy bight. And when she was there, she
did off her sallet and ungirt her, and laid her sword on the grass, and
did off her surcoat and hauberk, and so was a woman again in one white
coat above her smock. Then she looked heedfully betwixt the
willow-boughs, and saw no more than before, nought but a little
whitethorn brake, now white indeed with blossom, some fifty yards
landward from where she stood. So she laughed, and did off her other
raiment, and slid swiftly into the water, that embraced her body in all
its fresh kindness; and as for Birdalone, she rewarded it well for its
past toil by sporting and swimming to her full.
Then she came forth from the water, and clad herself in no great haste,
and did on her hauberk and sallet and sword, and so went back to her
place, and sat down and began to do on her foot-gear.
But as she looked up from her work a moment, lo! a tall man coming
toward her, and just about the willows whereby she had bathed. Her
heart beat quick and her face changed, yet she hastened, and was shod
and stood up in knightly array by then he stayed his steps some five
paces from her, and gave her the sele of the day in courteous wise; and
she strove to think that he had not seen her, or at least noted her
otherwise dight; yet her heart misgave her.
He was a grizzled-haired man of over fifty summers by seeming, but
goodly enough and well-knit; he was clad in a green coat more than a
little worn, but made after the fashion of knighthood; he had nought on
his head but an oak-chaplet, and no weapons but a short sword by his
side and a stout staff in his hand.
She gave back his greeting in a quavering voice; and he said: Welcome
again, young man. Art thou come to dwell with us? Truly thou art trim
now, but ere some few months thine attire will be not so much fairer
than ours, and thine hauberk will be rusted, for here be no joyous
tiltings nor deeds of arms, and no kind ladies to give the award of
honour, so that if we fight amongst ourselves it will be because we
have fallen out, and spitefully. Yet (and he laughed, mockingly, as she
thought) thou mayst bring us luck, and draw some fair damsels unto us,
for that is what we await in this isle, which is barren of their fair
bodies, despite of its deceitful name.
Thereat Birdalone reddened, deeming that he divined her womanhood, but
she enforced her to speak hardily, and as manly as she might, and said:
Yea, fair sir, and if I be the God of Love, as thou deemest, and not
merely a poor squire (Louis Delahaye, at thy service), how many damsels
shall I send thee if there must needs be one to each man of you? Quoth
he: Thou must make up the tale to a score or more, or some of us must
lack. Sooth to say, at this time thou needest not haste overmuch for
all the tale, whereas there is but one other of the company near at
hand, a mere foolish young man; the others are gone to the leeward side
of the isle, to fetch us venison and fish, both of which are more
plenty there than here; wherefore are we two somewhat lonesome in this
stead, all the more as we be over-nigh to the sorcery in the great
house, which we durst not enter; for though nought cometh out thence
down unto us, yet hear we a-night-tides, first songs, and then cries
and shrieking, come out therefrom.
Then he stayed his speech, and drew a little nigher to Birdalone, and
then grinned, and said: Forsooth we can spare him, we twain. And he
looked on her hard, and the colour came into her cheeks, and she
laughed uneasily, as a dainty lady when she heareth some unmeet tale.
But again the old carle drew nigher to her, and said: Thou seemest to
have a good bow and store of arrows; if thou wouldst lend them to me
for a little, and come with me into the wood hard by, I might shoot
thee some venison with little toil to thee; whereas, forsooth, thou
lookest scarce like one who is meet for over-much toil. Again she
reddened, and spake nought this time; and he said: Deem not there be no
deer this end of the isle because I said that the others were gone to
fetch home venison; only the deer be tamer there and more, and we have
but evil shooting-gear, whereas thou art well found therein. Wilt thou
not come? we shall have merry feast after the hunt.
Now had Birdalone come to her wits again, and she answered like a merry
youth, with a flavour of mockery in her speech: Fair sir, thou shalt
not deem that I need much help in slaying the dun deer; for I do thee
to wit that I shoot not ill in the bow; neither am I heavy-footed. But
I will not hunt in your park to-day, for I have an errand which calleth
me away, so that I shall depart hence presently. Besides, wise elder,
there is thine errand to see to; and if I be the God of Love, as thou
sayest, I must not keep thee and thy valiant fellows languishing
mateless; so with thy leave I will now depart, that I may send you a
score of fair damsels for your company.
And she turned about and made a step toward her boat; but the carle
drew nearer, laughing; and he said: Truly sayest thou that thou art not
heavy-footed, for never saw I feet lighter or fairer than glided over
the meadow e’en now; nor a fairer body than came like rosy-tinted pearl
fresh out of the water while I lay hidden in yonder thorn-brake that
while. Wherefore trouble not thyself to bring any more damsels than
thyself, fairest Goddess of Love, for thou art enough for me.
And therewith he ran forward, and stretched out a hand to her; but in
that nick of time had she her sword naked in her hand, and the carle
drew back before the glitter thereof, and cried out: Ho, ho! is it to
be battle, my mistress? Deemest thou that thou wilt slay me as lightly
as the dun deer, and thou with thy bow unstrung at thy back? Now shall
I show thee a trick of fence; but fear not that I shall hurt thee to
spoil thee.
He advanced on her with his staff aloft, and her heart failed her, and
she quaked, and lightly he beat down her guard and did the sword out of
her hand; and again he turned on her to take her, but she sprang aside
and ran from him, but ran landward perforce, as he was betwixt her and
the boat; and he followed heavily, and had nought to do in the race.
But she had not gone a two-score yards ere she heard a great shout, and
another man came running over the meadow; a slim young man was this,
and worse of attire than the old carle, for so tattered was his raiment
that he was half naked; but he was goodly of fashion, fresh-coloured
and black-haired. Birdalone stayed her feet when she saw him, for
though she doubted not to outrun him, yet whither should she run, since
her ferry was behind her?
So the young man came up to her, and the old carle met him all panting,
and the young man said: How now, Antony! what battle is this? and
wherefore art thou chasing this fair knight? And thou, fair sir, why
fleest thou this grey dastard?
Said Antony: Thou art but a young fool, Otter, this is no man, but a
woman, and I have taken her, and she is mine.
Well, said Otter, I say she is as much mine as thine; nay, more, if she
will give herself unto me. But if she will not, she shall go whither
she will in thy despite. Or art thou a woman?
Yea, yea, said Birdalone; and I pray thee, by thy mother’s head, suffer
me to depart; for heavy and full of need is the errand that I am about.
Go thou shalt then, said Otter; lead back to thy place, and I will walk
with thee. So did they: and Birdalone went beside the young man
quaking; but he put out no hand unto her; and sooth to say, she deemed
that she had seldom seen so fair a young man, but it were Arthur or
Hugh.
Now he, as Antony, was girt with a short sword, but he let it be in its
sheath; and as they went, Antony drew his blade again, and hove it up
to smite Otter, but as it befell Birdalone saw him, and turned round
sharp upon him and gat hold of his wrist, and therewith Otter turned
also, and caught the old carle by the nape as he turned away, and put a
foot before his and shoved mightily, so that he went noseling to the
earth.
Then turned Otter about again, laughing, and he said to Birdalone: By
Saint Giles! thou art well-nigh too valiant for a woman, and I would
that we two might be together; and then between us we might achieve the
adventure of the dead ladies up yonder. She hung her head, and said:
Fair sir, it may not anywise be; yet I thank thee, I thank thee.
So came they to the water-side and the Sending Boat, and Birdalone
stayed her feet there, and the young man said: What is this keel, that
seemeth unto me as if it were a ferry for malefactors wending to a
death of torment, so grey and bleared and water-logged and sun-bleached
as it is, and smeared over with stains of I know not what?
Said Birdalone: Such as it is, it is my ferry over the water to where I
would be. Strange! said Otter; to my mind it is like to our fortunes on
this isle, we who were once knights and merry squires and are now as
gangrel men, and of ill conditions, thinking of nought save our first
desires, even those which we share with the wolf and the kite.
She said: But art thou of evil conditions, thou who hast just delivered
me from trouble? He smiled grimly: Damsel, said he, I have not
delivered thee yet from me, though I have from him. But tell me, art
thou a sorceress? Not a black one, said Birdalone; but I will tell thee
at once that I have been bred by a witch most mighty, and some deal of
lore have I learned. And therewith she told him of the Sending Boat,
and how she would have to speed it on the way.
He looked on her a little and then turned away, and saw her sword lying
on the grass; so he went to it and picked it up and brought it to her,
and said: Thou mayst yet need this keen friend. So she took it and
thrust it back into the scabbard, quaking somewhat because of him; so
feeble and frail as she felt before him. Then he said: If thou deemest
thou hast somewhat to reward me for, I have a boon to ask of thee, and
granting that, we shall be quits again. Yea, she said faintly, and what
is the boon? He said: Art thou pressed to depart now, this minute? Nay,
said Birdalone, not for an hour if there be no peril here from other
men, and . . . and . . . And if I be true to thee and will let thee go?
said he, laughing; hah! is that not thy word? fear not, I swear by
thine eyes that thou shalt depart whenso thou wilt. Now then, the boon
I crave is, that thou wilt sit down here beside me and tell me the tale
of thy life that has been. Said she: It wearies me to think thereof;
yet hast thou a right to crave somewhat of me, and this is not hard to
grant.
And she sat down by him; but he said: Do this also for me, take off
thine headpiece, since now that we know thee for a woman it serveth
thee nought. So did she, and began her tale straightway, and told him
all thereof, save as to the wood-wife, and he sat hearkening and
watching her face; and when she had made an end, he said: Now shall I
ask none other boon of thee, though I long sore for it; but best it is
that we sunder straightway, else maybe I might yet be for hindering
thee.
Therewith he stood up, and Birdalone also, and he looked on her
eagerly, and said: I am now to bid thee farewell, and it is most like
that I shall never see thee again, wherefore I will ask thee yet to let
one thing come from thy mouth; for I deem thee the dearest of all women
I have ever seen. What shall I say? said Birdalone, smiling on him
kindly; must thou needs put the word in my mouth? Thou hast been
friendly with me here when need was to me of friendliness; wherefore I
say, I would I might see thee again, and thou better bestead than now
thou art.
The young man’s face brightened, and he said: Spake I not that thou
wert the dearest of all? This was even the word I would have put in thy
mouth. But now see thou, one goeth on from one thing to another, and I
must now ask thee, is there aught which thou hast a mind to give me ere
I depart, some keepsake which I durst not ask for?
She flushed red and said: I will with a good heart give thee my bow and
arrows for a keepsake; whereas the old carle told me that ye be ill
furnished of shooting-gear.
And she would have taken her bow from her back, but he laughed aloud,
and said: Nay, nay, I will not have that; for there be those who gird
them to a sword and know not how to use it, but few will cumber their
shoulders with bow and quiver who cannot shoot therewith; I deem it
like that thou art a fell bowman. Keep thy bow therefore, and if thou
wilt go without any other gift, even so be it.
And he made as if he would turn away; but she put forth both her hands
and took his in them, and lifted up her face and kissed him kindly, and
then turned away to her ferry; while Otter stood still and said in a
merry voice: Now is it better than well, for thou art in all ways what
I would have thee, and there is nought like unto thee. And therewith he
turned away and departed ere Birdalone had stepped into the Sending
Boat, and she blushing like a rose the while. Then she did due
sacrifice to the wight of the witch-ferry, and sped on her way without
any hindrance.