They Come to the Mid-Mountain Guest-House
On that night they slept in their tents which they had pitched on the
field of a little thorp beside a water; and there they had meat and
drink and all things as they needed them. And in likewise it befell
them the next day; but the third evening they set up their tents on a
little hillside by a road which led into a deep pass, even the entry of
the mountains, a road which went betwixt exceeding high walls of rock.
For the mountain sides went up steep from the plain. There they kept
good watch and ward, and naught befell them to tell of.
The next morning they entered the pass, and rode through it up to the
heaths, and rode all day by wild and stony ways and came at even to a
grassy valley watered by a little stream, where they guested, watching
their camp well; and again none meddled with them.
As they were departing the next morn Ralph asked of Clement if he yet
looked for onset from the waylayers. Said Clement: "It is most like,
lord; for we be a rich prey, and it is but seldom that such a company
rideth this road. And albeit that the wild men know not to a day when
we shall pass through their country, yet they know the time within a
four and twenty hours or so. For we may not hide our journey from all
men's hearing; and when the ear heareth, the tongue waggeth. But art
thou yet anxious concerning this matter, son?" "Yea," said Ralph, "for
I would fain look on these miscreants."
"It is like that ye shall see them," said Clement; "but I shall look on
it as a token that they are about waylaying us if we come on none of
them in the Mountain House. For they will be fearful lest their
purpose leak out from unwary lips." Ralph wondered how it would be, and
what might come of it, and rode on, pondering much.
The road was rough that day, and they went not above a foot-pace the
more part of the time; and daylong they were going up and up, and it
grew cold as the sun got low; though it was yet summer. At last at the
top of a long stony ridge, which lay beneath a great spreading
mountain, on the crest whereof the snow lay in plenty, Ralph saw a
house, long and low, builded of great stones, both walls and roof: at
sight thereof the men of the fellowship shouted for joy, and hastened
on, and Clement spurred up the stony slopes all he might. But Ralph
rode slowly, since he had naught to see to, save himself, so that he
was presently left alone. Now he looks aside, and sees something
bright-hued lying under a big stone where the last rays of the sun just
caught some corner of it. So he goes thither, deeming that mayhappen
one of the company had dropped something, pouch or clout, or what not,
in his haste and hurry. He got off his horse to pick it up, and when
he had laid hand on it found it to be a hands-breadth of fine green
cloth embroidered with flowers. He held it in his hand a while
wondering where he could have seen such like stuff before, that it
should smite a pang into his heart, and suddenly called to mind the
little hall at Bourton Abbas with the oaken benches and the rush-strewn
floor, and this same flower-broidered green cloth dancing about the
naked feet of a fair damsel, as she moved nimbly hither and thither
dighting him his bever. But his thought stayed not there, but carried
him into the days when he was abiding in desire of the love that he won
at last, and lost so speedily. But as he stood pondering he heard
Clement shouting to him from the garth-gate of that house. So he leapt
on his horse and rode up the slope into the garth and lighted down by
Clement; who fell to chiding him for tarrying, and said: "There is
peril in loitering outside this garth alone; for those Sons of the Rope
often lurk hard by for what they may easily pick up, and they be brisk
and nimble lads." "What ailed thee?" said Ralph. "I stayed to look at
a flower which called Upmeads to my mind."
"Yea lad, yea," quoth Clement, "and art thou so soft as that? But come
thou into the House; it is as I deemed it might be; besides the
House-warden and his wife there is no soul therein. Thou shalt yet
look on Mick Hangman's sons, as thou desirest."
So they went into the House, and men had all that they might need. The
warden was an old hoar man, and his wife well-stricken in years; and
after supper was talk of this and that, and it fell much, as was like
to be, on those strong-thieves, and Clement asked the warden what he
had seen of them of late.
The old carle answered: "Nay, master Clement, much according to wont:
a few beeves driven into our garth; a pack or two brought into the
hall; and whiles one or two of them come in hither with empty hands for
a sleep and a bellyful; and again a captive led in on the road to the
market. Forsooth it is now a good few days ago three of them brought
in a woman as goodly as mine eyes have ever seen; and she sat on the
bench yonder, and seemed to heed little that she was a captive and had
shackles on her feet after the custom of these men, though indeed her
hands were unbound, so that she might eat her meat; and the carle thief
told me that he took her but a little way from the garth, and that she
made a stout defence with a sword before they might take her, but being
taken, she made but little of it."
"Would he do her any hurt?" said Ralph. "Nay, surely," said the carle;
"doth a man make a hole in a piece of cloth which he is taking to
market? Nay, he was courteous to her after his fashion, and bade us
give her the best of all we had."
"What like was she?" said Ralph. Said the carle: "She was somewhat
tall, if I am to note such matters, grey-eyed and brown haired, and
great abundance of it. Her lips very red; her cheeks tanned with the
sun, but in such wise that her own white and red shone through the
sun's painting, so that her face was as sweet as the best wheat-ear in
a ten-acre field when the season hath been good. Her hands were not
like those of a demoiselle who sitteth in a chamber to be looked at,
but brown as of one who hath borne the sickle in the sun. But when she
stretched out her hand so that the wrist of her came forth from her
sleeve it was as white as milk."
"Well, my man," said the carline, "thou hast a good memory for an old
and outworn carle. Why dost thou not tell the young knight what she
was clad withal; since save for their raiment all women of an age are
much alike?"
"Nay, do thou do it," said the carle; "she was even as fair as I have
said; so that there be few like her."
Said the dame: "Well, there is naught so much to be said for her
raiment: her gown was green, of fine cloth enough; but not very new:
welts of needle-work it had on it, and a wreath of needle-work flowers
round the hem of the skirt; but a cantle was torn off from it; in the
scuffle when she was taken, I suppose, so that it was somewhat ragged
in one place. Furthermore--"
She had been looking at Ralph as she spoke, and now she broke off
suddenly, and said, still looking at him hard; "Well, it is strange!"
"What is strange?" said Clement. "O naught, naught," said the dame,
"save that folk should make so much to do about this matter, when there
are so many coming and going about the Midhouse of the Mountains."
But Ralph noted that she was still staring at him even after she had
let the talk drop.
Waned the even, and folk began to go bedward, so that the hall grew
thin of guests. Then came up the carline to Ralph and took him aside
into a nook, and said to him: "Young knight, now will I tell thee what
seemed to me strange e'en now; to wit, that the captive damsel should
be bearing a necklace about her neck as like to thine as one lamb is to
another: but I thought thou mightest be liever that I spake it not
openly before all the other folk. So I held my peace."
"Dame," said he, "I thank thee: forsooth I fear sorely that this
damsel is my sister; for ever we have worn the samelike pair of beads.
And as for me I have come hither to find her, and evil will it be if I
find her enthralled, and it may be past redemption."
And therewith he gave her a piece of the gold money of Upmeads.
"Yea," said she, "poor youth; that will be sooth indeed, for thou art
somewhat like unto her, yet far goodlier. But I grieve for thee, and
know not what thou wilt do; whereas by this time most like she has been
sold and bought and is dwelling in some lord's strong-house; some
tyrant that needeth not money, and will not let his prey go for a
prayer. Here, take thou thy gold again, for thou mayst well need it,
and let me shear a lock of thy golden hair, and I shall be well apaid
for my keeping silence concerning thy love. For I deem that it is even
so, and that she is not thy sister, else hadst thou stayed at home, and
prayed for her with book and priest and altar, and not gone seeking her
a weary way."
Ralph reddened but said naught, and let her put scizzors amongst his
curly locks, and take what of them she would. And then he went to his
bed, and pondered these matters somewhat, and said to himself that it
was by this damsel's means that he should find the Well at the World's
End. Yet he said also, that, whether it were so or not, he was bound
to seek her, and deliver her from thralldom, since he had kissed her so
sweet and friendly, like a brother, for the sweetness and kindness of
her, before he had fallen into the love that had brought him such joy
and such grief. And therewith he took out that piece of her gown from
his pouch, and it seemed dear to him. But it made him think sadly of
what grief or pain she might even then be bearing, so that he longed to
deliver her, and that longing was sweet to him. In such thoughts he
fell asleep.