MYSELF: No, no, indeed, my Gill, not I,
My heroes take a lot of killing--
GILL: Then go on quick, it's very thrilling!
I hope he vanquishes his foes,
And let him do it, please, in prose.
“O woe!” said a quavering voice. “Alack, and well-a-wey--”
My daughter GILLIAN demurreth:
GILL: No, father--that's not right at all.
You'd got to where you'd made him fall.
MYSELF: Well, then, Duke Joc'lyn, from his swoon awaking,
Found that his head confoundedly was aching;
Found he was bruised all down from top to toe--
GILL: A bruise, father, and he a duke? No, no!
Besides, you make
A frightful mistake--
A hero's head should never ache;
And, father, now, whoever knew
A hero beaten black and blue?
And then a bruise, it seems to me,
Is unromantic as can be.
He can't be bruised,
And shan't be bruised,
For, if you bruise him,
And ill-use him,
I'll refuse him--
No reader, I am sure, would choose
A hero any one can bruise.
So, father, if you want him read,
Don't bruise him, please--
MYSELF: Enough is said!
At this, Jocelyn sat up and wondered to find himself in a small chamber
dim-lit by a smoking cresset. On one side of him leaned an ancient woman,
a very hag-like dame
With long, sharp nose that downward curved as though
It fain would, beak-like, peck sharp chin below;
and upon his other side a young damsel of a wondrous dark beauty.
“Lady,” said he, “where am I?”
“Hush, poor Motley!” whispered the maid. “Thou didst fall 'gainst the door
yonder. But speak low, they that seek thy life may yet be nigh.”
“Nay, then,” quoth Jocelyn, reaching for his sword, “I must out and aid my
comrades.”
“Alack!” sighed the old woman. “Thy comrades do without lie all slain save
one that groaneth--hearken!”
“O, woe!” mourned a quavering voice beyond the door. “O, woe, sore hurted I
be, and like to die--and I a tanner!”
Very heedfully, Jocelyn unbarred the door, and peering into the narrow
street, found it deserted and empty save for certain outstretched forms
that stirred not; looking down on these dim shapes he knew one for Rick the
Ploughman, whose ploughing days were sped and, huddled in a corner hard by,
he found Will the Tanner, who groaned fitfully; but of Sir Pertinax and
Gurth he saw nothing. So Jocelyn made shift to bear the Tanner within the
house, and here Will, finding his hurts of small account, sat up, and while
the wise old woman bandaged his wound, answered Jocelyn's eager questions,
and told how Sir Pertinax and Gurth the Dyer had broken through their
assailants and made good their escape.
Now, when the old woman had thus cherished their hurts, Jocelyn would
fain have given her money, but she mumbled and mowed and cracked her
finger-joints and shook grey head.
“Not so, good Fool!” she croaked, “for I do know thee for that same gentle
Motley did save me from Black Lewin--a murrain seize him! So now will I
save thee--behold!” So saying she set bony hand to wall; and lo! in the
wall yawned a square opening narrow and dark, whence issued a cold wind.
“Begone, thou brave merryman!” quoth she. “Yonder safety lieth; this
darksome way shall carry thee out beneath the city wall!”
“Gramercy, thou kindly Witch!” said Jocelyn. “Yet first must I to the
watch-house beside the gate for one Robin that lieth 'prisoned there.”
“How, Fool, dost mean Robin-a-Green that is to hang?”
“In truth!”
“But Rob o' the Green is outlawed, banned o' Church, a very rogue!”
“But a man, wherefore I would save him alive.”
“Nay, Fool, o' thy folly be wise and seek ye safety instead. Would'st peril
thy body for a thief?”
“Verily, dame, even as I did for a Witch.”
Now, here the old woman scowled and mumbled and cracked her finger-bones
angrily. But the beauteous young maid viewed Jocelyn with bright, approving
eyes:
“But, Fool,” cried she, “O wondrous Fool, wilt adventure thyself in cause
so desperate?”
“Blithely, fair lady!”
“But, alas! the guards be many and thou but one--”
“Nay!” cried a voice:
“For thou may'st see
That two are we!”
And forth of the dark opening in the wall strode Lobkyn Lollo the Dwarf,
his great, spiked club on brawny shoulder. Jocelyn viewed the monstrous
little man in awed wonder; but beholding his mighty girth and determined
aspect, wonder changed to kindliness; quoth he:
“Fair greeting, comrade! If thou'rt for a little bickering and disputation
with that goodly club o' thine, come thy ways for methinks I do smell the
dawn.”
“Aha, thou naughty little one!” cried the Witch, shaking bony fist. “Art
for fighting for rogue's life along of a Fool, then?”
Quoth LOBKYN:
Aye, grannam, though ye slap me, still,
Fight and aid this Fool I will--
“And talking o' Will,” quoth Will, “what o' me, for though I'm a tanner I'm
a man, aye, verily, as I'm a tanner.”
“And methinks a better man than tanner!” said Jocelyn. “So here we stand
three goodly wights and well armed. Let's away--”
“Nay, then, wild Madcap,” croaked the Witch, “an my Lobkyn go I go, and,
though I be old and feeble, shalt find my craft more potent than sword or
club--wait!”
Here the old woman, opening a dingy cupboard, took thence a small crock
over which she muttered spells and incantations with look and gesture so
evil that Lobkyn eyed her askance, Will the Tanner cowered and whispered
fragments of prayers, and even Jocelyn crossed himself.
“Come!” croaked the Witch. “Now do I go to save rogue from gallows for sake
of thee, tall Fool. Come ye, come and do as I bid ye in all things--come!”