HOW BELTANE MET WITH A YOUTHFUL KNIGHT
Now at this time the fame of Beltane's doing went throughout the Duchy,
insomuch that divers and many were they that sought him out within the
green; masterless men, serfs new-broke from thraldom, desperate fellows
beyond the law, thieves and rogues in dire jeopardy of life or limb:
off-scourings, these, of camp and town and village, hither come seeking
shelter with Beltane in the wild wood, and eager for his service.
In very truth, a turbulent company this, prone to swift quarrel and
deadly brawl; but, at these times, fiercer than any was Walkyn o' the
Axe, grimmer than any was Roger the Black, whereas Giles was quick as
his tongue and Eric calm and resolute: four mighty men were these, but
mightier than all was Beltane. Wherefore at this time Beltane set
himself to bring order from chaos and to teach these wild men the
virtues of obedience; but here indeed was a hard matter, for these were
lawless men and very fierce withal. But upon a morning, ere the sun had
chased the rosy mists into marsh and fen, Beltane strode forth from the
cave wherein he slept, and lifting the hunting horn he bare about his
neck, sounded it fierce and shrill. Whereon rose a sudden uproar, and
out from their caves, from sleeping-places hollowed within the rocks,
stumbled his ragged following--an unordered rabblement, half-naked,
unarmed, that ran hither and thither, shouting and rubbing sleep from
their eyes, or stared fearfully upon the dawn. Anon Beltane sounded
again, whereat they, beholding him, came thronging about him and
questioned him eagerly on all sides, as thus:
"Master, are we attacked forsooth?"
"Is the Red Pertolepe upon us?"
"Lord, what shall we do--?"
"Lead us, master--lead us!"
Then, looking upon their wild disorder, Beltane laughed for scorn:--
"Rats!" quoth he, "O rats--is it thus ye throng to the slaughter, then?
Were I in sooth Red Pertolepe with but a score at my back I had slain
ye all ere sun-up! Where be your out-posts--where be your sentinels?
Are ye so eager to kick within a hangman's noose?"
Now hereupon divers growled or muttered threateningly, while others,
yawning, would have turned them back to sleep; but striding among them,
Beltane stayed them with voice and hand--and voice was scornful and
hand was heavy: moreover, beside him stood Roger and Giles, with Walkyn
and Eric of the wry neck.
"Fools!" he cried, "for that Pentavalon doth need men, so now must I
teach ye other ways. Fall to your ranks there--ha! scowl and ye will
but use well your ears--mark me, now. But two nights ago we burned
down my lord Duke's great castle of Garthlaxton: think you my lord Duke
will not seek vengeance dire upon these our bodies therefore? Think ye
the Red Pertolepe will not be eager for our blood? But yest're'en, when
I might have slain yon knavish Gurth, I suffered him to go--and
wherefore? For that Gurth, being at heart a traitor and rogue ingrain,
might straightway his him to the Duke at Barham Broom with offers to
guide his powers hither. But when they be come, his chivalry and heavy
armed foot here within the green, then will we fire the woods about
them and from every point of vantage beset them with our arrows--"
"Ha! Bows--bows!" cried Giles, tossing up his bow-stave and catching
it featly--"Oho! tall brother--fair lord Duke, here is a sweet and
notable counsel. Ha, bows! Hey for bows and bills i' the merry
greenwood!"
"So, perceive me," quoth Beltane, "thus shall the hunters peradventure
become the hunted, for, an Duke Ivo come, 'tis like enough he ne'er
shall win free of our ring of fire." Now from these long and ragged
ranks a buzz arose that swelled and swelled to a fierce shout.
"The fire!" they cried. "Ha, to burn them i' the fire!"
"But so to do," quoth Beltane, "rats must become wolves. Valiant men ye
are I know, yet are ye but a poor unordered rabblement, mete for
slaughter. So now will I teach ye, how here within the wild-wood we may
withstand Black Ivo and all his powers. Giles, bring now the book of
clean parchment I took from Garthlaxton, together with pens and ink-horn,
and it shall be henceforth a record of us every one, our names, our
number, and the good or ill we each one do achieve."
So there and then, while the sun rose high and higher and the mists of
dawn thinned and vanished, phantom-like, the record was begun. Two
hundred and twenty and four they mustered, and the name of each and
every Giles duly wrote down within the book in right fair and clerkly
hand. Thereafter Beltane numbered them into four companies; over the
first company he set Walkyn, over the second Giles, over the third
Roger, and over the fourth Eric of the wry neck. Moreover he caused to
be brought all the armour they had won, and ordered that all men should
henceforth go armed from head to foot, yet many there were that needs
must go short awhile.
Now he ordained these four companies should keep watch and watch day
and night with sentinels and outposts in the green; and when they
murmured at this he stared them into silence.
"Fools!" said he, "an ye would lie secure, so must ye watch constantly
against surprise. And furthermore shall ye exercise daily now, at the
spoke command, to address your pikes 'gainst charge of horse or foot,
and to that company adjudged the best and stoutest will I, each week,
give store of money from my share of booty. So now, Walkyn, summon ye
your company and get to your ward."
Thus it was that slowly out of chaos came order, yet it came not
unopposed, for many and divers were they that growled against this new
order of things; but Beltane's hand was swift and heavy, moreover,
remembering how he had dealt with Tostig, they growled amain but hasted
to obey. So, in place of idleness was work, and instead of quarrel and
riot was peace among the wild men and a growing content. Insomuch that
upon a certain balmy eve, Giles the Archer, lolling beside the fire
looking upon Black Roger, who sat beside him furbishing his mail-shirt,
spake his mind on this wise:
"Mark ye these lamb-like wolves of ours, sweet Roger? There hath been
no blood-letting betwixt them these four days, and scarce a quarrel."
ROGER. "Aye, this comes of my lord. My master hath a wondrous tongue,
Giles."
GILES. "My brother-in-arms hath a wondrous strong fist, Rogerkin--"
ROGER. "Thy brother-in-arms, archer? Thine, forsooth! Ha!"
GILES. "Snort not, my gentle Roger, for I fell in company with him ere
he knew aught of thee--so thy snort availeth nothing, my Rogerkin.
Howbeit, our snarling wolves do live like tender lambs these days, the
which doth but go to prove how blessed a thing is a fist--a fist, mark
you, strong to strike, big to buffet, and swift to smite: a capable
fist, Roger, to strike, buffet and smite a man to the good of his
soul."
ROGER. "In sooth my master is a noble knight, ne'er shall we see his
equal. And yet, Giles, methinks he doth mope and grieve these days. He
groweth pale-cheeked and careworn, harsh of speech and swift to anger.
Behold him now!" and Roger pointed to where Beltane sat apart (as was
become his wont of late) his axe betwixt his knees, square chin propped
upon clenched fist, scowling into the fire that burned before his
sleeping-cave.
"Whence cometh the so great change in him, think you, Giles?"
"For that, while I am I and he is himself, thou art but what thou art,
my Rogerkin--well enough after thy fashion, mayhap, but after all
thou art only thyself."
"Ha!" growled Roger, "and what of thee, archer?"
"I am his brother-in-arms, Rogerkin, and so know him therefore as a
wondrous lord, a noble knight, a goodly youth and a sweet lad. Some
day, when I grow too old to bear arms, I will to pen and ink-horn and
will make of him a ballade that shall, mayhap, outlive our time. A
notable ballade, something on this wise:--
"Of gentle Beltane I will tell,
A knight who did all knights excel,
Who loved of all men here below
His faithful Giles that bare the bow;
For Giles full strong and straight could shoot,
A goodly man was Giles to boot.
A lusty fighter sure was Giles
In counsel sage and full of wiles.
And Giles was handsome, Giles was young,
And Giles he had a merry--"
"How now, Roger, man--wherefore interrupt me?"
"For that there be too many of Giles hereabouts, and one Giles talketh
enough for twenty. So will I to Walkyn that seldom talketh enough for
one."
So saying Roger arose, donned his shirt of mail and, buckling his sword
about him, strode incontinent away.
And in a while Beltane arose also, and climbing one of the many
precipitous paths, answered the challenge of sentinel and outpost and
went on slow-footed as one heavy in thought, yet with eyes quick to
heed how thick was the underbrush hereabouts with dead wood and bracken
apt to firing. Before him rose an upland crowned by a belt of mighty
forest trees and beyond, a road, or rather track, that dipped and wound
away into the haze of evening. Presently, as he walked beneath this
leafy twilight, he heard the luring sound of running water, and turning
thither, laid him down where was a small and placid pool, for he was
athirst. But as he stooped to drink, he started, and thereafter hung
above this pellucid mirror staring down at the face that stared up at
him with eyes agleam 'neath lowering brows, above whose close-knit
gloom a lock of hair gleamed snow-white amid the yellow. Long stayed he
thus, to mark the fierce curve of nostril, the square grimness of jaw
and chin, and the lips that met in a harsh line, down-trending and
relentless. And gazing thus upon his image, he spake beneath his
breath:
"O lady! O wilful Helen! thy soft white hand hath set its mark upon me;
the love-sick youth is grown a man, meseemeth. Well, so be it!" Thus
saying, he laughed harshly and stooping, drank his fill.
Now as he yet lay beside the brook hearkening to its pretty babel, he
was aware of another sound drawing nearer--the slow plodding of a
horse's hoofs upon the road below; and glancing whence it came he
beheld a solitary knight whose mail gleamed 'neath a rich surcoat and
whose shield flamed red with sunset. While Beltane yet watched this
solitary rider, behold two figures that crouched in the underbrush
growing beside the way; stealthy figures, that flitted from tree to
tree and bush to bush, keeping pace with the slow-riding horseman; and
as they came nearer, Beltane saw that these men who crouched and stole
so swift and purposeful were Walkyn and Black Roger. Near and nearer
they drew, the trackers and the tracked, till they were come to a place
where the underbrush fell away and cover there was none: and here,
very suddenly, forth leapt Roger with Walkyn at his heels; up reared
the startled horse, and thereafter the knight was dragged from his
saddle and Walkyn's terrible axe swung aloft for the blow, but Black
Roger turned and caught Walkyn's arm and so they strove together
furiously, what time the knight lay out-stretched upon the ling and
stirred not.
"Ha! Fool!" raged Walkyn, "loose my arm--what would ye?"
"Shalt not slay him," cried Roger, "'tis a notch--'tis a notch from my
accursed belt--shalt not slay him, I tell thee!"
"Now out upon thee for a mad knave!" quoth Walkyn.
"Knave thyself!" roared Black Roger, and so they wrestled fiercely
together; but, little by little, Walkyn's size and bull strength began
to tell, whereupon back sprang nimble Roger, and as Walkyn's axe
gleamed, so gleamed Roger's sword. But now as they circled warily about
each other, seeking an opening for blow or thrust, there came a rush of
feet, and Beltane leapt betwixt them, and bestriding the fallen knight,
fronted them in black and bitter anger.
"Ha, rogues!" he cried, "art become thieves and murderers so soon,
then? Would'st shed each other's blood for lust of booty like any other
lawless knaves, forsooth? Shame--O shame on ye both!"
So saying, he stooped, and lifting the unconscious knight, flung him
across his shoulder and strode off, leaving the twain to stare upon
each other shame-faced.
Scowling and fierce-eyed Beltane descended into the hollow, whereupon
up sprang Giles with divers others and would have looked upon and aided
with the captive; but beholding Beltane's frown they stayed their
questions and stood from his path. So came he to a certain cave
hollowed within the hill-side--one of many such--but the rough walls of
this cave Black Roger had adorned with a rich arras, and had prepared
also a bed of costly furs; here Beltane laid the captive, and sitting
within the mouth of the cave--beyond which a fire burned--fell to
scowling at the flame. And presently as he sat thus came Roger and
Walkyn, who fain would have made their peace, but Beltane fiercely bade
them to begone.
"Lord," quoth Walkyn, fumbling with his axe, "we found this knight hard
by, so, lest he should disclose the secret of this our haven--I would
have slain him--"
"Master," said Roger, "'tis true I had a mind to his horse and armour,
since we do such things lack, yet would I have saved him alive and cut
from my belt another accursed notch--"
"So art thou a fool, Roger," quoth Walkyn, "for an this knight live,
this our refuge is secret no longer."
"Ha!" sneered Beltane, "what matter for that an it shelter but
murderers and thieving knaves--"
"Dost name me murderer?" growled Walkyn.
"And me a thief, master?" sighed Roger, "I that am thy man, that would
but have borrowed--"
"Peace!" cried Beltane, "hence--begone, and leave me to my thoughts!"
Hereupon Walkyn turned and strode away, twirling his axe, but Roger
went slow-footed and with head a-droop what time Beltane frowned into
the fire, his scowl blacker than ever. But as he sat thus, from the
gloom of the cave behind him a voice spake--a soft voice and low, at
sound whereof he started and turned him about.
"Meseemeth thy thoughts are evil, messire."
"Of a verity, sir knight: for needs must I think of women and the ways
of women! To-night am I haunted of bitter memory."
Now of a sudden, the stranger knight beholding Beltane in the light of
the fire, started up to his elbow to stare and stare; then quailing,
shivering, shrank away, hiding his face within his mailed hands.
Whereat spake Beltane in amaze:
"How now, sir knight--art sick in faith? Dost ail of some wound--?"
"Not so--ah, God! not so. Those fetters--upon thy wrists, messire--?"
"Alack, sir knight," laughed Beltane, "and is it my looks afflict thee
so? 'Tis true we be wild rogues hereabout, evil company for gentle
knights. Amongst us ye shall find men new broke from the gallows-foot
and desperate knaves for whom the dungeon yawns. As for me, these gyves
upon my wrists were riveted there by folly, for fool is he that
trusteth to woman and the ways of woman. So will I wear them henceforth
until my work be done to mind me of my folly and of one I loved so much
I would that she had died ere that she slew my love for her."
Thus spake Beltane staring ever into the fire, joying bitterly to voice
his grief unto this strange knight who had risen softly and now stood
upon the other side of the fire. And looking upon him in a while.
Beltane saw that he was but a youth, slender and shapely in his rich
surcoat and costly mail, the which, laced close about cheek and chin,
showed little of his face below the gleaming bascinet, yet that little
smooth-skinned and pale.
"Sir knight," said Beltane, "free art thou to go hence, nor shall any
stay or spoil thee. Yet first, hear this: thou art perchance some
roving knight seeking adventure to the glory and honour of some fair
lady. O folly! choose you something more worthy--a horse is a noble
beast, and dogs, they say, are faithful. But see you, a woman's love is
a pitiful thing at best, while dogs and horses be a-plenty. Give not
thine heart into a woman's hand lest she tear it in her soft, white
fingers: set not thine honour beneath her shapely feet, lest she tread
it into the shameful mire. So fare thee well, sir knight. God go with
thee and keep thee ever from the love of woman!"
So saying Beltane rose, and lifting the bugle-horn he wore, sounded it;
whereon came all and sundry, running and with weapons brandished--but
Roger first of all.
To all of whom Beltane spake thus:
"Behold here this gentle knight our guest is for the nonce--entreat him
courteously therefore; give him all that he doth lack and thereafter
set him upon his way--"
But hereupon divers cast evil looks upon the knight, murmuring among
themselves--and loudest of all Walkyn.
"He knoweth the secret of our hiding-place!"
"'Tis said he knoweth the causeway through the fen!"
"He will betray us!"
"Dogs!" said Beltane, clenching his hands, "will ye defy me then? I say
this knight shall go hence and none withstand him. Make way, then--or
must I?" But now spake the youthful knight his gaze still bent upon
the flame, nor seemed he to heed the fierce faces and eager steel that
girt him round. "Nay, messire, for here methinks my quest is ended!"
"Thy quest, sir knight--how so?" Then the knight turned and looked
upon Beltane. Quoth he: "By thy size and knightly gear, by thy--thy
yellow hair, methinks thou art Beltane, son of Beltane the Strong?"
"Verily, 'tis so that I am called. What would you of me?" "This,
messire." Herewith the stranger knight loosed belt and surcoat and drew
forth a long sword whose broad blade glittered in the firelight, and
gave its massy hilt to Beltane's grasp. And, looking upon its shining
blade, Beltane beheld the graven legend "Resurgam." Now looking upon
this, Beltane drew a deep, slow breath and turned upon the youthful
knight with eyes grown suddenly fierce. Quoth he softly: "Whence had
you this, sir knight?" "From one that liveth but for thee." "Ah!"
said Beltane with scornful lip, "know ye such an one, in faith?" "Aye,
messire," spake the knight, low-voiced yet eager, "one that doth
languish for thee, that hath sent me in quest of thee bearing this thy
sword for a sign, and to bid thee to return since without thee life is
an emptiness, and there is none so poor, so heart-sick and woeful as
Helen of Mortain!" "Ah--liar!" cried Beltane, and reaching out fierce
hands crushed the speaker to his knees; but even so, the young knight
spake on, soft-voiced and calm of eye: "Greater than thine is her love
for thee, methinks, since 'tis changeless and abiding--Slay me an thou
wilt, but while I live I will declare her true to thee. Whatever hath
chanced, whate'er may chance, despite all doubts and enemies she doth
love--love--love thee through life till death and beyond. O my lord
Beltane--" "Liar!" spake Beltane again. But now was he seized of a
madness, a cold rage and a deadly. "Liar!" said he, "thou art methinks
one of her many wooers, so art thou greater fool. But Helen the
Beautiful hath lovers a-plenty, and being what she is shall nothing
miss thee: howbeit thou art surely liar, and surely will I slay thee!"
So saying he swung aloft the great blade, but even so the young knight
fronted the blow with eyes that quailed not: pale-lipped, yet smiling
and serene; and then, or ever the stroke could fall--an arm, bronzed
and hairy, came between, and Roger spake hoarse-voiced: "Master," he
cried, "for that thy man am I and love thee, shalt ne'er do this till
hast first slain me. 'Tis thus thou did'st teach me--to show mercy to
the weak and helpless, and this is a youth, unarmed. Bethink thee,
master--O bethink thee!" Slowly Beltane's arm sank, and looking upon
the bright blade he let it fall upon the ling and covered his face
within his two hands as if its glitter had blinded him. Thus did he
stand awhile, the fetters agleam upon his wrists, and thereafter fell
upon his knees and with his face yet hidden, spake: "Walkyn," said he,
"O Walkyn, but a little while since I named thee 'murderer'! Yet what,
in sooth, am I? So now do I humbly ask thy pardon. As for thee, sir
knight, grant thy pity to one that is abased. Had I tears, now might I
shed them, but tears are not for me. Go you therefore to--to her that
sent thee and say that Beltane died within the dungeons of Garthlaxton.
Say that I who speak am but a sword for the hand of God henceforth, to
smite and stay not until wrong shall be driven hence. Say that this was
told thee by a sorry wight who, yearning for death, must needs cherish
life until his vow be accomplished." But as Beltane spake thus upon
his knees, his head bowed humbly before them all, the young knight came
near with mailed hands outstretched, yet touched him not. "Messire,"
said he, "thou hast craved of me a boon the which I do most full and
freely grant. But now would I beg one of thee." "'Tis thine," quoth
Beltane, "who am I to gainsay thee?" "Messire, 'tis this; that thou
wilt take me to serve thee, to go beside thee, sharing thy woes and
perils henceforth." "So be it, sir knight," answered Beltane, "though
mine shall be a hazardous service, mayhap. So, when ye will thou shalt
be free of it." Thus saying he arose and went aside and sat him down
in the mouth of the cave. But in a while came Roger to him, his
sword-belt a-swing in his hand, and looked upon his gloomy face with eyes
full troubled. And presently he spake, yet halting in his speech and
timid: "Master," he said, "suffer me a question." "Verily," quoth
Beltane, looking up, "as many as thou wilt, my faithful Roger."
"Master," says Roger, twisting and turning the belt in hairy hands, "I
would but ask thee if--if I might cut another notch from this my
accursed belt--a notch, lord--I--the young knight--?" "You mean him
that I would have murdered, Roger? Reach me hither thy belt." So
Beltane took the belt and with his dagger cut thence two notches,
whereat quoth Roger, staring: "Lord, I did but save one life--the
young knight--" "Thou did'st save two," answered Beltane, "for had I
slain him, Roger--O, had I slain him, then on this night should'st have
hanged me for a murderer. Here be two notches for thee--so take back
thy belt and go, get thee to thy rest--and, Roger--pray for one that
tasteth death in life." So Roger took the belt, and turning softly,
left Beltane crouched above the fire as one that is deadly cold.