THE ROSE-RED PAVILION
As the young Earl paused a moment without to tether Black Darnaway to
a fallen trunk of a pine, a chill and melancholy wind seemed to rise
suddenly and toss the branches dark against the sky. Then it flew off
moaning like a lost spirit, till he could hear the sound of its
passage far down the valley. An owl hooted and a swart raven
disengaged himself from the coppice about the door of the pavilion,
and fluttered away with a croak of disdainful anger. Black Darnaway
turned his head and whinnied anxiously after his master.
But William Douglas, though little more than a boy if men's ages are
to be counted by years, was yet a true child of Archibald the Grim,
and he passed through the mysterious encampment to the door of the
lighted pavilion with a carriage at once firm and assured. He could
faintly discern other tents and pavilions set further off, with
pennons and bannerets, which the passing gust had blown flapping from
the poles, but which now hung slackly about their staves.
"I would give a hundred golden St. Andrews," he muttered, "if I could
make out the scutcheon. It looks most like a black dragon couchant on
a red field, which is not a Scottish bearing. The lady is French,
doubtless, and passes through from Ireland to visit the Chancellor's
Court at Edinburgh."
The Black Douglas paused a moment at the tent-flap, which, being of
silken fabric lined with heavier material, hung straight and heavy to
the ground.
"Come in, my lord," cried the low and thrilling voice of his companion
from within. "With both hands I bid you welcome to my poor abode. A
traveller must not be particular, and I have only those condiments
with me which my men have brought from shipboard, knowing how poor was
the provision of your land. See, do you not already repent your
promise to sup with me?"
She pointed to the table on which sparkled cut glass of Venice and
rich wreathed ware of goldsmiths' work. On these were set out oranges
and rare fruits of the Orient, such as the young man had never seen in
his own bleak and barren land.
But the Douglas did no more than glance at the luxury of the
providing. A vision fairer and more beautiful claimed his eyes. For
even as he paused in amazement, the lady herself stood before him,
transformed and, as it seemed, glorified. In the interval she had
taken off the cloak which, while on horseback, she had worn falling
from her shoulders. A thin robe of white silk broidered with gold at
once clothed and revealed her graceful and gracious figure, even as a
glove covers but does not conceal the hand upon which it is drawn.
Whether by intent or accident, the collar had been permitted to fall
aside at the neck and showed the dazzling whiteness of the skin
beneath, but at the bosom it was secured by a button set with black
pearls which constituted the lady's only ornament.
Her arms also were bare, and showed in the lamplight whiter than milk.
She had removed the silver belt, and was tying a red silken scarf
about her waist in a manner which revealed a swift grace and lithe
sinuosity of movement, making her beauty appear yet more wonderful and
more desirable to the young man's eyes.
On either side the pavilion were placed folding couches of rosy silk,
and in the corner, draped with rich blue hangings, glimmered the
lady's bed, its fair white linen half revealed. Two embroidered
pillows were at the foot, and on a little table beside it a crystal
ball on a black platter.
No crucifix or _prie-dieu_, such as in those days was in every lady's
bower, could be discerned anywhere about the pavilion.
So soon as the tent-flap had fallen with a soft rustle behind him, the
Earl William abandoned himself to the strange enchantment of his
surroundings. He did not stop to ask himself how it was possible that
such dainty providings had been brought into the midst of his wide,
wild realm of Galloway. Nor yet why this errant damsel should in the
darksome night-time find herself alone on this hilltop with the tents
of her retinue standing empty and silent about. The present sufficed
him. The soft radiance of dark eyes fell upon him, and all the
quick-running, inconsiderate Douglas blood rushed and sang in his
veins, responsive to that subtle shining.
He was with a fair woman, and she not unwilling to be kind. That was
ever enough for all the race of the Black Douglas. What the Red
Douglas loved is another matter. Their ambitions were more reputable,
but greatly less generous.
"My lord," said the lady, giving him her hand, "will you lead me to
the table? I cannot offer you the refreshment of any elaborate
toilet, but here, at least, is wheaten bread to eat and wine of a good
vintage to drink."
"You yourself scarce need such earthly sustenance," he answered
gallantly, "for your eyes have stolen the radiance of the stars, and
'tis evident that the night dews visit your cheek only as they do the
roses--to render them more fresh and fair."
"My lord flatters well for one so young;" she smiled as she seated
herself and motioned him to sit close beside her. "How comes it that
in this wild place you have learned to speak so chivalrously?"
"When one answers beauty the words are somehow given," he said, "and,
moreover, I have not dwelt in grey Galloway all my days."
"You speak French?" she queried in that tongue.
"Ah," she said when he answered, "the divine language. I knew you were
perfect." And so for a long while the young man sat spellbound,
watching the smiles coming and going upon her red and flower-like
lips, and listening to the fast-running ripple of her foreign talk. It
was pleasure enough to hearken without reply.
It seemed no common food of mortal men that was set before William
Douglas, served with the sweep of white arms and the bend of delicate
fingers upon the chalice stem. He did not care to eat, but again and
again he set the wine cup down empty, for the vintage was new to him,
and brought with it a haunting aroma, instinct with strange hopes and
vivid with unknown joys.
The pavilion, with its cords of sendal and its silver hanging lamps,
spun round about him. The fair woman herself seemed to dissolve and
reunite before his eyes. She had let down the full-fed river of her
hair, and it flowed in the Venetian fashion over her white shoulders,
sparkling with an inner fire--each fine silken thread, as it glittered
separate from its fellows, twining like a golden snake.
And the ripple of her laughter played upon the young man's heart
carelessly as a lute is touched by the hands of its mistress.
Something of the primitive glamour of the night and the stars clung to
this woman. It seemed a thing impossible that she should be less pure
than the air and the waters, than the dewy grass beneath and the sky
cool overhead. He knew not that the devil sat from the first day of
creation on Eden wall, that human sin is all but as eternal as human
good, and that passion rises out of its own ashes like the phoenix
bird of fable and stands again all beautiful before us, a creature of
fire and dew.
Presently the lady rose to her feet, and gave the Earl her hand to
lead her to a couch.
"Set a footstool by me," she bade him, "I desire to talk to you."
"You know not my name," she said, after a pause that was like a
caress, "though I know yours. But then the sun in mid-heaven cannot be
hidden, though nameless bide the thousand stars. Shall I tell you
mine? It is a secret; nevertheless, I will tell you if such be your
desire."
"I care not whether you tell me or no," he answered, looking up into
her face from the low seat at her feet. "Birth cannot add to your
beauty, nor sparse quarterings detract from your charm. I have enough
of both, good lack! And little good they are like to do me."
"Shall I tell you now," she went on, "or will you wait till you convoy
me to Edinburgh?"
"To Edinburgh!" cried the young man, greatly astonished. "I have no
purpose of journeying to that town of mine enemies. I have been
counselled oft by those who love me to remain in mine own country. My
horoscope bids me refrain. Not for a thousand commands of King or
Chancellor will I go to that dark and bloody town, wherein they say
lies waiting the curse of my house."
"But you will go to please a woman?" she said, and leaned nearer to
him, looking deep into his eyes.
For a moment William Douglas wavered. For a moment he resisted. But
the dark, steadfast orbs thrilled him to the soul, and his own heart
rose insurgent against his reason.
"I will come if you ask me," he said. "You are more beautiful than I
had dreamed any woman could be."
"I do ask you!" she continued, without removing her eyes from his
face.
"Then I will surely come!" he replied.
She set her hand beneath his chin and bent smilingly and lightly to
kiss him, but with an imprisoned passionate cry the young man suddenly
clasped her in his arms. Yet even as he did so, his eyes fell upon two
figures, which, silent and motionless, stood by the open door of the
pavilion.