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diff --git a/42284.txt b/42284.txt deleted file mode 100644 index 7198a23..0000000 --- a/42284.txt +++ /dev/null @@ -1,11036 +0,0 @@ - LOVE AMONG THE RUINS - - - - -This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with almost -no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it -under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included with this -eBook or online at http://www.gutenberg.org/license. - - - -Title: Love Among the Ruins -Author: Warwick Deeping -Release Date: March 09, 2013 [EBook #42284] -Language: English -Character set encoding: US-ASCII - - -*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK LOVE AMONG THE RUINS *** - - - - -Produced by Al Haines. - - - - -[Illustration: Cover] - - - - -[Illustration: "FLAVIAN OF GAMBREVAULT STOOD BOUND BEFORE HER."] - - - - - LOVE - AMONG THE RUINS - - - BY - WARWICK DEEPING - - AUTHOR OF "UTHER AND IGRAINE" - - - Grim work, sirs; what would you! - War is the devil. - - - _WITH ILLUSTRATIONS BY W. BENDA_ - - - - New York - THE MACMILLAN COMPANY - LONDON: MACMILLAN & CO., LTD. - 1904 - - _All rights reserved_ - - - - - COPYRIGHT, 1904, BY - THE OUTLOOK COMPANY. - - Set up and electrotyped. Published June, 1904. - - - - Norwood Press - J. S. Cushing & Co. -- Berwick & Smith Co. - Norwood, Mass., U.S.A. - - - - - TO - MY MOTHER AND FATHER - WITH ALL LOVE AND GRATITUDE - - - - - PART I - - - - I - - -The branches of the forest invoked the sky with the supplications of -their thousand hands. Black, tumultuous, terrible, the wilds billowed -under the moon, stifled with the night, silent as a windless sea. -Winter, like a pale Semiramis of gigantic mould, stood with her coronet -touching the steely sky. A mighty company of stars stared frost-bright -from the heavens. - -A pillar of fire shone red amid the chaos of the woods. Like a great -torch, a blazing tower hurled spears of light into the gloom. Shadows, -vast and fantastic, struggled like Titans striving with Destiny in the -silence of the night. Their substanceless limbs leapt and writhed -through the gnarled alleys of the forest. Overhead, the moon looked -down with thin and silver lethargy on the havoc kindled by the hand of -man. - -In a glade, all golden with the breath of the fire, blackened -battlements waved a pennon of vermilion flame above the woods. Smoke, -in eddying and gilded clouds, rolled heavenwards to be silvered into -snow by the light of the moon. The grass of the glade shone a dusky, -yet brilliant green; the tower's windows were red as rubies on a pall of -sables. About its base, cottages were burning like faggots piled about -a martyr's loins. - -Tragedy had touched the place with her ruddy hand. There had been savage -deeds done in the silence of the woods. Hirelings, a rough pack of -mercenaries in the service of the Lord Flavian of Gambrevault, had -stolen upon the tower of Rual of Cambremont, slain him before his own -gate, and put his sons to the sword. A feud had inspired the event, a -rotten shred of enmity woven on Stephen's Eve in a tavern scuffle. The -burning tower with its cracking walls bore witness to the extravagant -malice of a rugged age. - -Death, that flinty summoner, salves but the dead, yet wounds the living. -It is sport with him to pile woe upon the shoulders of the weak, to -crown with thorns the brows of those who mourn. Double-handed are his -blessings--a balm for those who sleep, an iron scourge for the living. -The quick bow down before his feet; only the dead fear him no more in -the marble philosophy of silence. - -On a patch of grass within the golden whirl of the fire lay the body of -Rual of Cambremont, stiff and still. His face was turned to the heavens; -his white beard tinctured with the dye of death. Beside him knelt a -girl whose unloosed hair trailed on his body, dark and disastrous as a -sable cloud. The girl's eyes were tearless, dry and dim. Her hands -were at her throat, clenched in an ecstasy of despair. Her head was -bowed down below her stooping shoulders, and she knelt like Thea over -Saturn's shame. - -Behind her in the shadow, his face grey in the uncertain gloom, an old -man watched the scene with a wordless awe. He was a servant, thin and -meagre, bowed under Time's burden, a dried wisp of manhood, living -symbol of decay. There was something of the dog about his look, a dumb -loyalty that grieved and gave no sound. Beneath the burning tower in -the heat of the flames, these twain seemed to mimic the stillness of the -dead. - -There was other life in the glade none the less, a red relic evidencing -the handiwork of the sword. A streak of shadow that had lain motionless -in the yellow glare of the fire, stirred in the rank grass with a -snuffling groan. There was a curt hint in the sound that brought Jaspar -the harper round upon his heel. He moved two steps, went down on his -knees in the ooze, turned the man's head towards the tower, and peered -into his face. It was gashed from chin to brow, a grim mask of war, -contorted the more by the uncertain palpitations of the flames. - -Jaspar had a flask buckled at his girdle. He thrust his knee under the -man's head, trickled wine between his lips, and waited. The limp hands -began to twitch; the man jerked, drew a wet, stertorous breath, stared -for a moment with flickering lids at the face above him. Jaspar craned -down, put his mouth to the man's ear, and spoke to him. - -The fellow's lips quivered; he stirred a little, strove to lift his -head, mumbled thickly like a man with a palsied tongue. Jaspar put his -ear to the bruised mouth and listened. He won words out of the grave, -for his rough face hardened, his brows were knotted over the dying man's -stumbling syllables. The harper shouted in his ear, and again waited. - -"Gam--Gambrevault, Flavian's men, dead, all dead," ran the death -utterance. "Ave Maria, my lips burn--St. Eulalie--St. Jude, defend -me----" - -A cough snapped the halting appeal. The man stiffened suddenly in -Jaspar's arms, and thrust out his feet with a strong spasm. His hands -clawed the grass; his jaw fell, leaving his mouth agape, a black circle -of death. There was a last rattling stridor. Then the head fell back -over Jaspar's knee with the neck extended, the eyes wide with a -visionless stare. - -A shadow fell athwart the dead man and the living, a shadow edged with -the golden web of the fire. Looking up, Jaspar the harper saw the girl -standing above him, staring down upon the dead man's body. The red -tower framed her figure with flame, making an ebon cloud of her hair, -her body a pillar of sombre stone. Her face was grey, pinched, and -expressionless. Youth seemed frozen for the moment into bleak and -premature age. - -She bowed down suddenly, her hair falling forward like a cataract, her -eyes large with a tearless hunger. Pointing to the man on Jaspar's knee, -she looked into the harper's face, and spoke to him. - -"Quick, the truth. I fear it no longer." - -Her voice was toneless and hoarse as an untuned string. She beat her -hands together, and then stood with her fists pressed over her heart. - -"Quick, the truth." - -The old man turned the body gently to the grass, and still knelt at the -woman's feet. - -"It is Jean," he said, with great quietness, "Jean the swineherd. He is -dead. God rest his soul!" - -She bent forward again with arm extended, her voice deep and hoarse in -her throat. - -"Tell me, who is it that has slain my father?" - -"They of Gambrevault." - -"Ah!" - -Her eyes gleamed behind her hair as it fell dishevelled over her face. - -"And the rest--Bertrand, my brothers?" - -Her voice appealed him with a gradual fear. Jaspar the harper bowed his -face, and pointed to the tower. The girl straightened, and stood -quivering like a loosened bow. - -"God! In there! And Roland?" - -Again the harper's hand went up with the slow inevitableness of destiny. -The flames, as beneath the incantations of a sibyl, leapt higher, -roaring hungrily towards the heavens. The girl swayed away some paces, -her lips moving silently, her hair fanned by the draught, blowing about -her like a veil. She turned to the tower, thrust up her hands to it -with a strong gesture of anguish and despair. - -A long while she stood in silence as in a kind of torpor, gazing at this -red pyre of the Past, where memories leapt heavenwards in a golden haze -of smoke. The roar of the fire was as the voice of Fate. She heard it -dim and distant like the far thunder of a sea. Beyond, around, above, -the gaunt trees clawed at the stars with their leafless talons. Night -and the shadow of it were very apparent to the girl's soul. - -Jaspar the harper stood and watched her with a dumb and distant awe. -Her rigid anguish cowed him into impotent silence. The woman's soul -seemed to soar far above comfort, following the saffron smoke into the -silver aether of the infinite. The man stood apart, holding aloof with -the instinct of a dog, from a sorrow that he could not chasten. He was -one of those dull yet happy souls, who carry eloquence in their eyes, -whose tongues are clumsy, but whose hearts are warm. He stood aloof -therefore from Yeoland, dead Rual's daughter, pulling his ragged beard, -and calling in prayer to the Virgin and the saints. - -Presently the girl turned very slowly, as one whose blood runs chill and -heavy. Her eyes were still dry and crystal bright, her face like -granite, or a mask of ice. The man Jaspar hid his glances from her, and -stared at the sod. He was fearful in measure of gaping blankly upon so -great a grief. - -"Jaspar," she said, and her voice was clear now as the keen sweep of a -sword. - -He crooked the knee to her, stood shading his eyes with his wrinkled -hand. - -"We alone are left," she said. - -"God's will, madame, God's will; He giveth, and taketh away. I, even I, -am your servant." - -Her eyes lightened an instant as though red wrath streamed strongly from -her heart. Her mouth quivered. She chilled the mood, however, and stood -motionless, save for her hands twining and twisting in her hair. - -"Does Heaven mock me?" she asked him, with a level bitterness. - -"How so, madame?" he answered her; "who would mock thee at such an -hour?" - -"Who indeed?" - -"Not even Death. I pray you be comforted. There is a balm in years." - -They stood silent again in the streaming heat and radiance of the fire. -A sudden wind had risen. They heard it crying far away in the infinite -vastness of the woods. It grew, rushed near, waxed with a gradual -clamour till the bare wilds seemed to breathe one great gathering roar. -The flames flew slanting from the blackened battlements. The trees -clutched and swayed, making moan under the calm light of the moon. - -The sound thrilled the girl. Her lips trembled, her form dilated. - -"Listen," she said, thrusting up her hands into the night, "the cry of -the forest, the voice of the winter wind. What say they but -'vengeance--vengeance--vengeance'?" - - - - - II - - -Dawn came vaguely in a veil of mist. A heavy dew lay scintillant upon -the grass; a great silence covered the woods. The trees stood grim and -gigantic with dripping boughs in a vapoury atmosphere, and there seemed -no augury of sunlight in the blind grey sky. - -A rough hovel under a fir, used for the storing of wood, had given -Yeoland and the harper shelter for the night. The sole refuge left to -them by fire, the hut had served its purpose well enough, for grief is -not given to grumbling over externals in the extremity of its distress. - -The girl Yeoland was astir early with the first twitter of the birds in -the boughs overhead. Jaspar had made her a couch of straw, and she had -lain there tossing to and fro with no thought of sleep. The moon had -sunk early over the edge of the world, and heavy darkness had wrapped -her anguish close about her soul, mocking her with the staring of a dead -face. The burning tower had ceased to torch her vigil towards dawn; yet -there had been no fleeing from the pale candour of the night. - -A slim, white-faced woman she stood shivering in the doorway of the -hovel. Her eyes were black and lustrous--swift, darting eyes full of -dusky fire and vivid unrest. Her mouth ran a red streak, firm above her -white chin. Her hair gleamed like sable steel. The world was cold about -her for the moment, dead and inert as her own heart. As she stood there, -fine and fragile as gossamer, the very trees seemed to weep for her with -the dawning day. - -Some hundred paces from the hut, a cloud of smoke mingled with the mist -that hung about the blackened walls of the forest tower. Its windows -were blind and frameless to the sky; a zone of charred wood and reeking -ashes circled its base. The mist hung above it like a ghostly memory. -The place looked desolate and pitiful enough in the meagre light. - -The girl Yeoland watched the incense of smoke wreathing grey spirals -overhead, melting symbolic--into nothingness. The pungent scent of the -ruin floated down to her, and became a recollection for all time. This -blackened shell had been a home to her, a bulwark, nay, a cradle. -Sanguine life had run ruddy through its heart. How often had she seen -its grey brow crowned with gold by the mystic hierarchy of heaven. She -had found much joy there and little sorrow. A wrinkled face had taught -her these many years to cherish the innocence of childhood. All this -was past; the present found her bankrupt of such things. The place had -become but a coffin, a charnel-house for the rotting bones of love. - -As she brooded in the doorway, the smite of a spade came ringing to her -on the misty air. Terse and rhythmic, it was like the sound of Time -plucking the hours from the Tree of Life. She looked out over the -glade, and saw Jaspar the harper digging a shallow grave under an oak. - -She went and watched him, calmly, silently, with the utter quiet of a -measureless grief. There was reason in this labour. It emphasised -reality; helped her to grip the present. As the brown earth tumbled at -her feet, she remembered how much she would bury in that narrow forest -grave. - -The man Jaspar was a ruddy soul, like a red apple in autumn. His strong -point was his loyalty, a virtue that had stiffened with the fibres of -his heart. He could boast neither of vast intelligence, nor of -phenomenal courage, but he had a conscience that had made gold of his -whole rough, stunted body. Your clever servant is often a rogue; in the -respect of apt villainy, the harper was a fool. - -He ceased now and again from his digging, hung his hooked chin over his -spade, and snuffed the savour of the clean brown earth. He thrust curt, -furtive glances up into the girl's face as she watched him, as though -desirous of reading her humour or her health. - -"You are weary," she said to him anon, looking blankly into the trench. - -The man wagged his head. - -"Have ye broken fast? There is bread and dried fruit in the hut, and a -pitcher of water." - -"I cannot eat--yet," she answered him. - -He sighed and continued his digging. The pile of russet earth increased -on the green grass at her feet; the trench deepened. Jaspar moistened -his palms, and toiled on, grunting as he hove his libations of soil over -his shoulder. Presently he stood up again to rest. - -"What will you do, madame?" he asked her, squinting at the clouds. - -"Ride out." - -"And whither?" - -"Towards Gilderoy--as yet." - -"Ah, ah, a fair town and strong. John of Brissac is madame's friend. -Good. Have we money?" - -"Some gold nobles." - -They waxed silent again, and in a while the grave lay finished. 'Twas -shallow, but what of that! It gave sanctuary enough for the dead. - -They went together, and gazed on the sleeping man's face. It was grey, -but very peaceful, with no hint of horror thereon. The eyes were -closed, and dew had starred the white hair with a glistening web. -Yeoland knelt and kissed the forehead. She shivered and her hands -trembled, but she did not weep. - -So they carried the Lord Rual between them, for he was a spare man and -frugal of frame, and laid him in the grave beneath the oak. When they -had smoothed his hair, and crossed his hands upon his breast, they knelt -and prayed to the Virgin and the saints that in God's heaven he might -have peace. The wind in the boughs sang a forest requiem. - -When Yeoland had looked long at the white face in the trench, she rose -from her knees, and pointed Jaspar to his spade. The harper took the -measure of her mind. When she had passed into the shadows of the trees, -he mopped his face, and entered on his last duty to the dead. It was -soon sped, soon ended. A pile of clean earth covered the place. Jaspar -banked the grave with turf, shouldered his spade, and returned to the -hovel. - -He found the girl Yeoland seated on a fallen tree in the forest, her -ebon hair and apple-green gown gleaming under the sweeping boughs. Her -cheeks were white as windflowers, her eyes full of a swimming gloom. -She raised her chin, and questioned the man mutely with a look that -smouldered under her arched brows. - -"Jaspar?" - -"Madame----" - -"Have you entered the tower?" - -The man's wrinkled face winced despite his years. - -"Would you have me go?" he asked her in a hoarse undertone. - -She looked into the vast mazes of the woods, shuddered in thought, and -was silent. Her mouth hardened; the desire melted from her eyes. - -"No," she said anon, turning her hood forward, and drawing a green cloak -edged with sables about her, "what would it avail us? Let us sally at -once." - -A little distance away, their horses, that had been hobbled over night, -stood grazing quietly on a patch of grass under the trees. One was a -great grey mare, the other a bay jennet, glossy as silk. Jaspar caught -them. He was long over the girths and bridles, for his hands were -stiff, and his eyes dim. When he returned, Yeoland was still standing -like a statue, staring at the blackened tower reeking amid the trees. - -"Truly, they have burnt the anguish of it into my heart with fire," she -said, as Jaspar held her stirrup. - -"God comfort you, madame!" - -"Let us go, Jaspar, let us go." - -"And whither, lady?" - -"Where revenge may lead." - -The day brightened as they plunged down into the forest. A light breeze -rent the vapours, and a shimmer of sunlight quivered through the haze. -The tree-tops began to glisten gold; and there was life in the deepening -promise of the sky. The empty woods rolled purple on the hills; the -greensward shone with a veil of gossamer; the earth grew glad. - -The pair had scant burden of speech upon their lips that morning. They -were still benumbed by the violence of the night, and death still -beckoned to their souls. Fate had smitten them with such incredible and -ponderous brevity. On the dawn of yesterday, they had ridden out hawk on -wrist into the wilds, lost the bird in a long flight, and turned -homeward when evening was darkening the east. From a hill they had seen -the tower lifting its flame like a red and revengeful finger to heaven. -They had hastened on, with the glare of the fire spasmodic and lurid -over the trees. In one short hour they had had speech with death, and -came point to point with the bleak sword of eternity. - -What wonder then that they rode like mutes to a burial, still of tongue -and dull of heart? Life and the zest thereof were at low ebb, -colourless as a wintry sea. Joy's crimson wings were smirched and -broken; the lute of youth was unstrung. A granite sky had drawn low -above their heads, and to the girl a devil ruled the heavens. - -Before noon they had threaded the wild waste of woodland that girded the -tower like a black lagoon. They came out from the trees to a heath, a -track that struck green and purple into the west, and boasted nought -that could infringe the blue monotony of the sky. It was a wild region, -swept by a wind that sighed perpetually amid the gorse and heather. By -the black rim of the forest they had dismounted and partaken of bread -and water before pushing on with a listless persistence that won many -miles to their credit. - -The man Jaspar was a phlegmatic soul in the hot sphere of action. He -was a circumspect being who preferred heading for the blue calm of a -haven in stormy weather, to thrusting out into the tossing spume of the -unknown. The girl Yeoland, on the contrary, had an abundant spirit, and -an untamed temper. Her black eyes roved restlessly over the world, and -she tilted her chin in the face of Fate. Jaspar, knowing her fibre, -feared for her moods with the more level prudence of stagnant blood. -Her obstinacy was a hazardous virtue, hawk-like in sentiment, not given -to perching on the boughs of reason. Moreover, being cumbered with a -generous burden of pity, he was in mortal dread of wounding her pale -proud grief. - -By way of being diplomatic, he began by hinting that there were -necessities in life, trivial no doubt, but inevitable, as sleep and -supper. - -"Lord John of Brissac is your friend," he meandered, "a strong lord, and -a great; moreover, he hates those of Gambrevault, God chasten their -souls! Fontenaye is no long ride from Gilderoy. Madame will lodge -there till she can come by redress?" - -Madame had no thought of being beholden to the gentleman in question. -Jaspar understood as much from a very brief debate. Lord John of -Brissac was forbidden favour, being as black a pard when justly blazoned -as any seigneur of Gambrevault. The harper's chin wagged on maugre her -contradiction. - -"We have bread for a day," he chirped, dropping upon banalities by way -of seeming wise. "The nights are cold, madame, damp as a marsh. As for -the water-pot----" - -"Water may be had--for the asking." - -"And bread?" - -"I have money." - -"Then we ride for Gilderoy?" - -The assumption was made with an excellent unction that betrayed the -seeming sincerity of the philosopher. Yeoland stared ahead over her -horse's ears, with a clear disregard for Jaspar and his discretion. - -"We are like leaves blown about in autumn," she said to him, "wanderers -with fortune. You have not grasped my temper. I warrant you, there is -method in me." - -Jaspar looked blank. - -"Strange method, madame, to ride nowhere, to compass nothing." - -She turned on him with a sudden rapid gleam out of her passionate eyes. - -"Nothing! You call revenge nothing?" - -The harper appealed to his favourite saint. - -"St. Jude forfend that madame should follow such a marsh fire," he said. - -They had drawn towards the margin of the heath. Southwards it sloped to -the rim of a great pine forest, that seemed to clasp it with ebonian -arms. The place was black, mysterious, impenetrable, fringed with a -palisading of dark stiff trunks, but all else, a vast undulation of -sombre plumes. Its spires waved with the wind. There was a soundless -awe about its sable galleries, a saturnine gloom that hung like a -curtain. In the vague distance, a misty height seemed to struggle above -the ocean of trees, like the back of some great beast. - -Yeoland, keen of face, reined in her jennet, and pointed Jaspar to this -landscape of sombre hues. There was an alert lustre in her eyes; she -drew her breath more quickly, like one whose courage kindles at the cry -of a trumpet. - -"The Black Wild," she said with a little hiss of eagerness, and a glance -that was almost fierce under her coal-black brows. - -Jaspar shook his head with the cumbersome wit of an ogre. - -"Ha, yes, madame, a bloody region, packed with rumours, dark as its own -trees; no stint of terror, I warrant ye. See yonder, the road to -Gilderoy." - -The girl in the green cloak seemed strongly stirred by her own thoughts. -Her face had a wild elfin look for the moment, a beautiful and daring -insolence that deified her figure. - -"And Gilderoy?" she said abstractedly. - -"Gilderoy lies south-east; Gambrevault south-west many leagues. -Southwards, one would find the sea, in due season. Eastwards, we touch -Geraint, and the Roman road." - -Yeoland nodded as though her mind were already adamant in the matter. - -"We will take to the forest," ran her decretal. - -Here was crass sentiment extravagantly in the ascendant, mad wilfulness -pinioning forth like a bat into gloom. Jaspar screwed his mouth into a -red knot, blinked and waxed argumentative with a vehemence that did his -circumspection credit. - -"A mad scheme." - -"What better harbour for the night than yonder trees?" - -"Who will choose us a road? I pray you consider it." - -Yeoland answered him quietly enough. She had set her will on the -venture, was in a desperate mood, and could therefore scorn reason. - -"Jaspar, my friend," she said, "I am in a wild humour, and ripe for the -wild region. Peril pleases me. The unknown ever draweth the heart, -making promise of greater, stranger things. What have I to lose? If -you play the craven, I can go alone." - - - - - III - - -The avenues of the pine forest engulfed the harper and the lady. The -myriad crowded trunks hemmed them with a stubborn and impassive gloom. -A faint wind moved in the tree-tops. Dim aisles struck into an -ever-deepening mystery of shadow, as into the dark mazes of a dream. - -The wild was as some primaeval waste, desolate and terrible, a vast -flood of sombre green rolling over hill and valley. Its thickets -plunged midnight into the bosom of day. On the hills, the trees stood -like traceried pinnacles, spears blood-red in the sunset, or splashed -with the glittering magic of the moon. There were dells sunk deep -beneath crags; choked with dense darkness, unsifted by the sun. Winding -alleys white with pebbles as with the bones of the dead, wound through -seething seas of gorse. In summer, heather sucked with purple lips at -the tapestries of moss blazoning the ground, bronze, green, and gold. -It was a wild region, and mysterious, a shadowland moaned over by the -voice of a distressful wind. - -Yeoland held southwards by the gilded vane of the sun. She had turned -back her hood upon her shoulders, and fastened her black hair over her -bosom with a brooch of amethysts. The girl was wise in woodlore and the -philosophies of nature. The sounds and sights of the forest were like a -gorgeous missal to her, blazoned with all manner of magic colours. She -knew the moods of hawk and hound, had camped often under the steely -stare of a winter sky, had watched the many phases of the dawn. Hers -was a nature ripe for the hazardous intent of life. It was she who led, -not Jaspar. The harper followed her with a martyred reason, having, for -all his discontent, some faith in her keen eyes and the delicate -decision of her chin. - -There was a steady dejection in the girl's mood--a dejection starred, -however, with red wrath like sparks glowing upon tinder. She was no -Agnes, no Amorette, mere pillar of luscious beauty. Her eyes were as -blue-black shields, flashing with many sheens in the face of day. The -flaming tower, the dead figure in the forest grave, had thrust the -gentler part out of her being. She was miserable, mute, yet full of a -volcanic courage. - -As for the harper, a rheumy dissatisfaction pervaded his temper. His -blood ran cold as a toad's in winter weather. He blew upon his fingers, -dreaming of inglenooks and hot posset, and the casual luxuries the -forest did not promise. Yeoland considered not the old man's babblings. -Her heart looked towards the dawn, and knew nothing of the twilight -under the dark eaves of age. - -They had pressed a mile or more into the waste, and the day was waxing -sere and yellow in the west. Before them ran a huge thicket, its floor -splashed with tawny splendours, the sable plumes touched with gold by -the sun. Its deep bosom hung full of purple gloom, dusted with amber, -wild and windless. - -A sudden "hist" from his lady's lips made the harper start in the -saddle. Her hand had snatched at his bridle. Both horses came to a -halt. The man looked at her as they sat knee to knee; she was alert and -vigilant, her eyes bright as the eyes of a hawk. - -"Marked you that?" she said to him in a whisper. - -Jaspar gave her a vacant stare and shook his head. - -"Nothing?" - -"Boughs swaying in the wind, no more." - -Yeoland enlightened him. - -"Tush. There's no wind moving. A glimmer of armour, yonder, up the -slope." - -"Holy Jude!" - -"A flash, it has gone." - -They held silent under the drooping boughs, listening, with noiseless -breath. The breeze made mysterious murmurings with a vague unrest; now -and again a twig cracked, or some forest sound floated down like a filmy -moth on the quiet air. The trees were dumb and saturnine, as though -resenting suspicion of their sable aisles. - -Jaspar, peering over his shoulder, jerked out a word of warning. -Yeoland, catching the monosyllable from his lips, and following his -stare, glanced back into the eternal shadows of the place. - -"I see nothing," she said. - -Jaspar answered her slowly, his eyes still at gaze. - -"A shadow slipping from trunk to trunk." - -"Where?" - -"I see it no longer. The saints succour us!" - -Yeoland's face was dead white under her hair; her mouth gaped like a -circle of jet. She listened constantly. Her head moved in stately -fashion on her slim neck, as she shot glances hither and thither into -the glooms, her eyes challenging the world. She felt peril, but was no -craven in the matter--a contrast to Jaspar, who shook as with an ague. - -The harper's distress broke forth into petulant declaiming. - -"Trapped," he said; "I could have guessed as much, with all this -fooling. These skulkers are like crows round carrion. Shall we lose -much, madame?" - -"Gold, Jaspar, if they are content with such. What if they should be of -Gambrevault!" - -The harper gave a quivering whistle, a shrill breath between his teeth, -eloquent of the unpleasant savour of such a chance. It was beyond him -for the moment whether he preferred being held up by a footpad, to being -bullied by some ruffian of a feudatory. He had a mere bodkin of a -dagger in his belt, and little lust for the letting of blood. - -"'Tis a chance, madame," he said, with a certain lame sententiousness, -"that had not challenged my attention. Say nothing of Cambremont; one -word would send us to the devil." - -"Am I a fool? Since these gentlemen will not declare themselves, let us -hold on and tempt their purpose." - -Thinking to see the swirl of shadows under the trees, the glimmer of -steel in the forest's murk, they rode on at a lifeless trot. Nothing -echoed to their thoughts. The woods stood impassive, steeped in -solitude. There was a strange atmosphere of peace about the place that -failed to harmonise their fears. Yet like a prophecy of wind there -stole in persistently above the muffled tramp of hoofs, a dull, -characterless sound, touched with the crackling of rotten wood, that -seemed to hint at movement in the shadows. - -The pair pressed on vigilant and silent. Anon they came to a less -multitudinous region, where the trees thinned, and a columned ride -dwindled into infinite gloom. Betwixt the black stems of the trees -flashed sudden a streak of scarlet, torchlike in the shadows. An armed -rider in a red cloak, mounted on a sable horse, kept vigil silently -between the boles of two great firs. He was immobile as rock, his spear -set rigid on his thigh, his red plume sweeping the green fringes of the -trees. - -This solemn figure stood like a sanguinary challenge to Yeoland and the -harper. Here at least was something tangible in the flesh, more than a -mere shadow. The pair drew rein, questioning each other mutely with -their eyes, finding no glimmer of hope on either face. - -As they debated with their glances over the hazard, a voice came crying -weirdly through the wood. - -"Pass on," it said, "pass on. Pay ye the homage of the day." - -This forest cry seemed to loosen the dilemma. Certainly it bore wisdom -in its counsel, seeing that it advised the inevitable, and ordered -action. Yeoland, bankrupt of resource, took the unseen herald at his -word, and rode on slowly towards the knight on the black horse. - -The man abode their coming like a statue, his red cloak shining -sensuously under the sombre green of the boughs. A canopy of golden fire -arched him in the west. He sat his horse with a certain splendid -arrogance, that puzzled not a little the conjectures of Yeoland and the -harper. This was neither the mood nor the equipment of a vagabond soul. -The fine spirit of the picture hinted briskly at Gambrevault. - -The pair came to a halt under the two firs. The man towered above them -on his horse, grim and gigantic, a great statue in black and burnished -steel. His salade with beaver lowered shone ruddy in the sun. His -saddle was of scarlet leather, bossed with brass and fringed with sable -cord. Gules flamed on his shield, devoid of all device, a strong wedge -of colour, bare and brave. - -The girl caught the gleam of the man's eyes through the grid of his -vizor. He appeared to be considering her much at his leisure with a -keen silence, that was not wholly comforting. Palpably he was in no -mood for haste, or for such casual courtesies that might have ebbed from -his soundless strength. - -Full two minutes passed before a deep voice rolled sonorously from the -cavern of the casque. - -"Madame," it said, "be good enough to consider yourself my prisoner. -Rest assured that I bring you no peril save the peril of an empty -purse." - -There was a certain powerful complacency in the voice, pealing with the -deep clamour of a bell through the silence of the woods. The man seemed -less ponderous and sinister, giant that he was. The girl's eyes fenced -with him fearlessly under the trees. - -"Presumably," she said to him, "you are a notorious fellow; I have the -misfortune to be ignorant of these parts and their possessors. Be so -courteous as to unhelm to me." - -Her tone did not stir the man from his reserve of gravity. Her words -were indeed like so many ripples breaking against a rock. The voice -retorted to her calmly from the helmet. - -"Madame, leave matters to my discretion." - -She smiled in his face despite herself, a smile half of petulance, half -of relish. - -"You pretend to wisdom, sir." - -"Forethought, madame." - -"Am I your prisoner?" - -"No new thing, madame; I have possessed you since you ventured into -these shadows." - -He made a gesture with his spear, holding it at arm's length above his -head, where it quivered like a reed in his staunch grip. A sound like -the moving of a distant wind arose. The dark alleys of the wood grew -silvered with a circlet of steel. The shafts of the sunset flickered on -pike and bassinet, gleaming amid the verdured glooms. Again the man's -spear shook, again the noise as of a wind, and the girdle of steel -melted into the shadows. - -"Madame is satisfied?" - -She sucked in her breath through her red lips, and was mute. - -"Leave matters to my discretion. You there, in the brown smock, fall -back twenty paces. Madame, I wait for you. Let us go cheek by jowl." - -The man wheeled his horse, shook his spear, hurled a glance backward -over his shoulder into the woods. There was no gainsaying him for the -moment. Yeoland, bending to necessity, sent Jaspar loitering, while she -flanked the black destrier with her brown jennet. She debated keenly -within herself whither this adventure could be leading her, as she rode -on with this unknown rider into the wilds. - -The man in the red cloak was wondrous mute at first, an iron pillar of -silence gleaming under the trees. The girl knew that he was watching -her from behind his salade, for she caught often the white glimmer of -his stare. He bulked largely in the descending gloom, a big man deep of -chest, with shoulders like the broad ledges of some sea-washed rock. He -was richly appointed both as to his armour and his trappings; to Yeoland -his shield showed a blank face, and he carried no crest or token in his -helmet. - -They had ridden two furlongs or more before the man stepped from his -pedestal of silence. He had been studying the girl with the mood of a -philosopher, had seen her stark, strained look, the woe in her eyes, the -firm closure of her lips. The strong pride of grief in her had pleased -him; moreover he had had good leisure to determine the character of her -courage. His first words were neither very welcome to the girl's ears -nor productive of great comfort, so far as her apprehensions were -concerned. Bluntly came the calm challenge from the casque. - -"Daughter of Rual of Cambremont, you have changed little these five -years." - -Yeoland gave the man a stare. Seeing that his features were screened by -his helmet, the glance won her little satisfaction. She knew that he -was watching her to his own profit, and her discovery, for the reflex -look she had flashed at him, must have told him all he desired, if he -had any claim to being considered observant. There was that also in the -tone and tenor of his words that implied that he had ventured no mere -tentative statement, but had spoken to assure her that her name and -person were not unknown to him. Acting on the impression, she tacitly -confessed to the justice of his charge. - -"Palpably," she said, "my face is known to you." - -"Even so, madame." - -"How long will you hold me at a disadvantage?" - -"Is ignorance burdensome?" - -She imagined of a sudden that the man was smiling behind his beaver. -Being utterly serious herself, she discovered an illogical lack of -sympathy in the stranger's humour. Moreover she was striving to spell -Gambrevault from the alphabet of word and gesture, and to come to an -understanding with the doubts of the moment. - -"Messire," she began. - -"Madame," he retorted. - -"Are you mere stone?" - -For answer he lapsed into sudden reflection. - -"It is five years ago this Junetide," he said, "since the King and the -Court came to Gilderoy." - -"Gilderoy?" - -"You know the town, madame?" - -She stared back upon a sudden vision of the past, a past gorgeous with -the crimson fires of youth. That Junetide she had worn a new green -gown, a silver girdle, a red rose in her hair. There had been jousting -in the Gilderoy meadows, much braying of trumpets, much splendour, much -pomp of arms. She remembered the scent and colour of it all; the blaze -of tissues of gold and green, purple and azure. She remembered the -flickering of a thousand pennons in the wind, the fair women thronging -the galleries like flowers burdening a bowl. The vision came to her -undefiled for the moment, a dream-memory, calm as the first pure pageant -of spring. - -"And you, messire?" she said, with more colour of face and soul. - -"Rode in the King's train." - -"A noble?" - -"Do I bulk for a cook or a falconer?" - -"No, no. Yet you remember me?" - -"As it were yesterday, walking in the meadows at your father's -side--your father, that Rual who carried the banner when the King's men -stormed Gaerlent these forty years ago. Not, madame, that I followed -that war; I was a mass of swaddling-clothes puking in a cradle. So we -grow old." - -The girl's face had darkened again on the instant. The man in the red -cloak saw her eyes grow big of pupil, her lips straightened into a -colourless line. She held her head high, and stared into the purple -gloom of the woods. Memories were with her. The present had an iron -hand upon her heart. - -"Time changes many things," he said, with a discretion that desired to -soften the silence; "we go from cradle to throne in one score years, -from life to clay in a moment. Pay no homage to circumstance. The wave -covers the rock, but the granite shows again its glistening poll when -the water has fallen. A Hercules can strangle Fate. As for me, I know -not whether I have soared in the estimation of heaven; yet I can swear -that I have lost much of the vagabond, sinful soul that straddled my -shoulders in the past." - -There was a warm ruggedness about the man, a flippant self-knowledge, -that touched the girl's fancy. He was either a strong soul, or an utter -charlatan, posing as a Diogenes. She preferred the former picture in -her heart, and began to question him again with a species of picturesque -insolence. - -"I presume, messire," she said, "that you have some purpose in life. -From my brief dealings with you, I should deem you a very superior -footpad. I gather that it is your intention to rob me. I confess that -you seem a gentleman at the business." - -The man of the red cloak laughed in his helmet. - -"To be frank, madame," he said, "you may dub me a gatherer of taxes." - -"Explain." - -"Being unfortunates and outcasts from the lawful ways of life, my men -and I seek to remedy the injustice of the world by levying toll on folk -more happy than ourselves." - -"Then you condemn me as fortunate?" - -"Your defence, madame." - -The girl smiled with her lips, but her eyes were hard and bright as -steel. - -"I might convince you otherwise," she said, "but no matter. Why should -I be frank with a thief, even though he be nobly born?" - -"Because, madame, the thief may be of service to the lady." - -"I have little silver for your wallet." - -"Am I nothing but a money-bag!" - -She looked up at him with a straight stare; her voice was level, even -imperious. - -"Put up your vizor," she said to him. - -The man in the black harness hesitated, then obeyed her. She could see -little of his face, however, save that it was bronzed, and that the eyes -were very masterful. She ventured further in the argument, being bent -on fathoming the baser instincts of the business. - -"Knight of the red shield," she said. - -"Madame?" - -"I ask you an honest question. If you would serve me, speak the truth, -and let me know my peril. Are you the Lord Flavian of Gambrevault, or -no?" - -The man never hesitated an instant. There was no wavering to cast doubt -upon his sincerity, or upon his intelligence as a liar. - -"No, madame," he answered her, "I am not the Lord of Gambrevault and -Avalon, and may I, for the sake of my own neck, never come single-handed -within his walls. I have an old feud with the lords of Gambrevault, and -when the chance comes, I shall settle it heavily to my credit. If you -have any ill to say of the gentleman, pray say it, and be happy in my -sympathy." - -"Ha," she said, with a sudden flash of malice, "I would give my soul for -that fellow's head." - -"So," quoth the man, with a keen look, "that would be a most delectable -bargain." - - - - - IV - - -The stems thinned about them suddenly, and the sky grew great beyond a -more meagre screen of boughs. To the west, breaking the blood-red -canopy with an edge of agate, rocks towered heavenwards, smiting -golden-fanged into a furnace of splendour. Waves of light beat in spray -upon the billowy masses of the trees, dying in the east into a majestic -mask of gloom. - -Yeoland and the man in red came forth into a little glade, hollowed by -the waters of a rush-edged pool. A stream, a scolloped sheet of foam, -stumbled headlong into the mere, vanishing beyond like a frail white -ghost into the woods. A fire danced in the open, and under the trees -stood a pavilion of red cloth. - -The man dismounted and held the girl's stirrup. A quick glance round -the glade had shown her bales of merchandise, littering the green carpet -of the place, horses tethered in the wood, men moving like gnomes about -the fire. Even as she dismounted, streaks of steel shone out in the -surrounding shadows. Armed men streamed in, and piled their pikes and -bills about the pines. - -At the western end of the glade, a gigantic fir, a forest patriarch, -stood out above the more slender figures of his fellows. The grotesque -roots, writhing like talons, tressled a bench of boughs and skins. -Before the tree burnt a fire, the draught sweeping upwards to fan the -fringe of the green fir's gown. The man in the black harness took -Yeoland to the seat under the tree. The boughs arched them like a -canopy, and the wood fire gave a lusty heat in the gloaming. - -A boy had run forward to unhelm the knight in the red cloak. Casque and -sword lay on the bench of boughs and skins. The girl's glance framed -for the first time the man's face. She surveyed him at her leisure -under drooping lids, with a species of reticent interest that escaped -boldness. It was one of those incidents to her that stand up above the -plain of life, and build individual history. - -She saw a bronzed man with a tangle of tawny-red hair, a great beak of a -nose, and a hooked chin. His eyes were like amber, darting light into -the depth of life, alert, deep, and masterful. There was a rugged and -indomitable vigour in the face. The mouth was of iron, yet not unkind; -the jaw ponderous; the throat bovine. The mask of youth had palpably -forsaken him; Life, that great chiseller of faces, had set her tool upon -his features, moulding them into a strenuous and powerful dignity that -suited his soul. - -He appeared to fathom the spirit of the girl's scrutiny, nor did he take -umbrage at the open and critical revision of her glances. He inferred -calmly enough, that she considered him by no means blemishless in -feature or in atmosphere. Probably he had long passed that age when the -sanguine bachelor never doubts of plucking absolute favour from the eyes -of a woman. The girl was not wholly enamoured of him. He was rational -enough to read that in her glances. - -"Madame is in doubt," he said to her, with a glimmer of a smile. - -"As to what, messire?" - -"My character." - -"You prefer the truth?" - -"Am I not a philosopher?" - -"Hear the truth then, messire, I would not have you for a master." - -The man laughed, a quiet, soundless laugh through half-closed lips. -There was something magnetic about his grizzled and ironical strength, -cased in its shell of blackened steel. He had the air of one who had -learnt to toy with his fellows, as with so many strutting puppets. The -world was largely a stage to him, grotesque at some seasons, strenuous -at others. - -"Ha, a miracle indeed," he said, "a woman who can tell the truth." - -She ignored the gibe and ran on. - -"Your name, messire?" - -The man spread his hands. - -"Pardon the omission. I am known as Fulviac of the Forest. My heritage -I judge to be the sword, and the shadows of these same wilds." - -Yeoland considered him awhile in silence. The firelight flickered on -his harness, glittering on the ribbed and jointed shoulder plates, -striking a golden streak from the edge of each huge pauldron. Mimic -flames burnt red upon his black cuirass, as in a darkened mirror. The -night framed his figure in an aureole of gloom, as he sat with his -massive head motionless upon its rock-like throat. - -"Five years ago," she said suddenly, "you rode as a noble in the King's -train. Now you declare yourself a thief. These things do not harmonise -unless you confess to a dual self." - -"Madame," he answered her, "I confess to nothing. If you would be wise, -eschew the past, and consider the present at your service. I am named -Fulviac, and I am an outlaw. Let that grant you satisfaction." - -Yeoland glanced over the glade, walled in with the gloom of the woods, -the stream foaming in the dusk, the armed men gathered about the further -fire. - -"And these?" she asked. - -"Are mine." - -"Outcasts also?" - -"Say no hard things of them; they are folk whom the world has treated -scurvily; therefore they are at feud with the world. The times are out -of joint, tyrannous and heavy to bear. The nobles like millstones grind -the poor into pulp, tread out the life from them, that the wine of -pleasure may flow into gilded chalices. The world is trampled under -foot. Pride and greed go hand in hand against us." - -She looked at him under her long lashes, with the zest of cavil -slumbering in her eyes. Autocracy was a hereditary right with her, even -though feudalism had slain her sire. - -"I would have the mob held in check," she said to him. - -"And how? By cutting off a man's ears when he spits a stag. By -splitting his nose for some small sin. By branding beggars who thieve -because their children starve. Oh, equable and honest justice! God -prevent me from being poor." - -She looked at him with her great solemn eyes. - -"And you?" she asked. - -He spread his arms with a half-flippant dignity. - -"I, madame, I take the whole world into my bosom." - -"And play the Christ weeping over Jerusalem?" - -"Madame, your wit is excellent." - -A spit had been turning over the large fire, a haunch of venison being -basted thereon by a big man in the cassock of a friar. Certain of -Fulviac's fellows came forward bearing wine in silver-rimmed horns, -white bread and meat upon platters of wood. They stood and served the -pair with a silent and soldierly briskness that bespoke discipline. The -girl's hunger was as healthy as her sleek, plump neck, despite the day's -hazard and her homeless peril. - -Dusk had fallen fast; the last pennon of day shone an eerie streak of -saffron in the west. The forest stood wrapped in the stupendous -stillness of the night. An impenetrable curtain of ebony closed the -glade with its rush-edged pool. - -Fulviac's servers had retreated to the fire, where a ring of rough faces -shone in the wayward light. The sound of their harsh voices came up to -the pair in concord with the perpetual murmur of the stream. Yeoland -had shaken the bread-crumbs from her green gown. She was comforted in -the flesh, and ready for further foining with the man who posed as her -captor. - -"Sincerity is a rare virtue," she said, with a slight lifting of the -angles of her mouth. - -"I can endorse that dogma." - -"Do you pretend to the same?" - -"Possibly." - -"You love the poor, conceive their wrongs to be your own?" - -Fulviac smiled in his eyes like a man pleased with his own thoughts. - -"Have I not said as much?" - -"Well?" - -"I revere my own image." - -"And fame?" - -He commended her and unbosomed in one breath. - -"Pity," he said, "is often a species of splendid pride. We toil, we -fight, we labour. Why? Because below all life and effort, there burns -an immortal egotism, an eternal vanity. 'Liberty, liberty,' we cry, -'liberty and justice man for man.' Yet how the soul glows at the sound -of its own voice! The human self hugs fame, and mutters, 'Lo, what a -god am I in the eyes of the world!'" - - - - - V - - -Silence fell between them for a season, a silence deep and intangible as -the darkness of the woods. The man's mood had recovered its subtle -calm, even as a pool that has been stirred momentarily by the plashing -of a stone sinks into rippleless repose. He sat with folded arms before -the flare of the fire, watching the girl under his heavy brows. - -She was very fair to look upon, slim, yet spirited as a band of steel. -Her ears shone out from her dusky hair like apple blossoms in a mist of -leaves. Her lips were blood-red, sensitive, clean as the petals of a -rose. Her great grief had chastened her. From the curve of her neck to -the delicate strength of her white hands, she was as rich an idyll as a -man could desire. - -Fulviac considered her with a thought that leant philosophically towards -her beauty. He had grown weary of love in his time; the passions of -youth had burnt to dry ashes; possibly he had been luckless in his -knowledge of the sex. He had married a wife of irreproachable birth, a -lady with a sharp nose and a lipless mouth, eyes of green, and a most -unholy temper. She was dead, had been dead many years. The man had no -delirious desire to meet her again in heaven. As for this girl, he had -need of her for revolutionary reasons, and his mood to her was more that -of a father. Her spirit pleased him. Moreover, he knew what he knew. - -Gazing at the flames, he spread his hands to them, and entered again on -the confines of debate. His voice had the steady, rhythmic insistence -of a bell pealing a curfew. Its tone was that of a man not willing to be -gainsaid. - -"Therefore, madame, I would have you understand that I desire in some -measure to be a benefactor to the human race." - -"I take your word for it," she answered him. - -"That I am an ambitious man, somewhat vain towards fame, one that can -glow in soul." - -"A human sun." - -"So." - -"That loves to be thought great through warming the universe." - -"Madame, you are epigrammatic." - -"Or enigmatic, messire." - -"As you will," he answered her; "your womanhood makes you an enigma; it -is your birthright. Understand that I possess power." - -"Fifty cut-throats tied to a purse." - -"Consider me a serious figure in the world's sum." - -"As you will, messire. You are an outlaw, a leader of fifty vagabonds, -a man with ideals as to the establishing of justice. You are going to -subvert the country. Very good. I have learnt my lesson. But how is -all this going to help me out of the wood?" - -Fulviac took his sword, and balanced it upon his wrist. The red light -from the fire flashed on the swaying steel. - -"Our hopes are more near of kin, madame, than you imagine." - -"Well?" - -"Flavian of Gambrevault's raiders burnt your home, slew your father, -exterminated your brethren. This happened but a day ago. You do not -love this Flavian of Gambrevault." - -Her whole figure stiffened spasmodically as at the prick of a sword. -Her eyes, with widely open pupils, flashed up to Fulviac's face. She -questioned him through her set teeth with a passionate whisper of -desire. - -"How do you know this?" - -His face mellowed; the arm bearing the sword was steady as the limb of -an oak. - -"I am wiser in many ways than you imagine," he said. "Look at me, I am -no longer young; I hate women; I patronise God. You are a mere child; -to you life is dark and perilous as this wilderness of pines. Your -trouble is known to me, because it is my business to know of such -things. It was my deliberate intent that you should fall into my hands -to-day." - -The girl was still rigidly astonied. She stared at him mutely with -dubious eyes. The man and his philosophy were beyond her for the -moment. - -"Well?" she said to him with a quaver of entreaty. - -"First, you will honour me by saying that I have your trust." - -"How may I promise you that?" - -"Because I am surety for my own honour." - -She smiled in his face despite the occasion. - -"You seem very sure of your own soul," she said. - -"Madame, it has taken me ten years to come by so admirable a state. -Self-knowledge carried to the depths, builds up self-trust. I may take -it for granted that you hate the Lord Flavian of Gambrevault?" - -"Need you ask that!" - -Her eyes echoed the mood of the flame. Fulviac, watching her, saw the -strong wrack of wrath twisting her delicate features for the moment into -pathetic ugliness. - -"You have courage," he said to her. - -"Ample, messire." - -"Flavian of Gambrevault is the greatest lord in the south." - -"I am as wise." - -"On that score, this Flavian and Fulviac of the Forest are -irreconcilable as day and night." - -The man stood his sword pommel upwards in the grass, and ran on. - -"Some day I shall slay this same Flavian of Gambrevault. His blood will -expiate the blood of these your kinsfolk. Therefore, madame, you will -be my debtor." - -"That is all?" she asked him with a wistfulness in her voice that was -even piteous. - -Fulviac looked long into the fire like a man whose thoughts channel -under the crust of years. Pity for the girl had gone to the heart under -the steel cuirass, a pity that was not the pander of desire. His eyes -took a new meaning into their keen depths; he looked to have grown -suddenly younger by some years. When he spoke again, his voice had lost -its half-mocking and grandiose confidence. It was the voice of a man who -strides generous and eager into the breach of fate. - -"Listen," he said to her, "I may tell you that your sorrow has armed my -manhood. Give me my due; I am more than a mere vagabond. You have been -cruelly dealt with; I take your cause upon the cross of my sword." - -"You, messire?" - -"Even so. I need a good woman, a brave woman. You please me." - -"Well?" - -"You are a necessity to me." - -"And why, messire?" - -"For a matter of religion and of justice. Trust to my honour. You -shall learn more in due season." - -Yeoland, smitten with incredulity, stared at the man in mute surmise. -Here was an amazing circumstance--robbery idealised, soul, body, purse, -at one bold swoop. In her mystification, she could find nothing to say -to the man for the moment, even though he had promised her a refuge. - -"You are very sure of yourself," she said at length. - -"I am a man." - -"Yet you leave me in ignorance." - -"Madame, we are to undertake great deeds together, great perils. I -could hold up an astonishing future to your eyes, but for the present I -keep silence. Rest assured that you shall be accorded such honour as -the Virgin herself could desire. Remember that I give you promise of -vengeance, and a home." - -The girl drew a deep breath, as though taking the spirit of the hour -into her bosom. - -"If I refuse?" she said to him. - -"You cannot refuse," came the level retort. - -"And why, messire?" - -"Your consent, though pleasant, is not necessary in the matter. I have -long ago determined to appropriate you to my ambition." - - - - - VI - - -Fulviac's lair lay deep within the waving wilderness of pines. Above -the spires of the forest, a massive barrier of rock thrust up its rugged -bartisans into the blue. East and west it stretched a mile or more, -concavitated towards the north, and standing like a huge breakwater amid -the sea of boughs. - -The rocky plateau above was peopled by pines and rowans, thatched also -with a wild tangle of briar, whin, and heather. Crannies cleft into it; -caves tunnelled its massive bosom; innumerable minarets of stone mingled -with the wind-wracked trees. The cliffs rose like the walls of a castle -donjon from the forest floor, studded with dwarf trees, bearded with -ferns and grass. The plateau was inaccessible from the forest save by a -thin rocky track, where the western slope of the cliff tailed off to -merge into the trees. - -The significance of the place to Fulviac lay in the existence of a -cavern or series of caves piercing the cliff, and opening both upon the -southern and northern facades of the mass. A wooden causeway led to the -southern entry, bridging a small gorge where a stream foamed under the -pines. The yawn of the southern opening had been built up with great -blocks of stone, and the rough walls pierced by narrow squints, and a -gate opening under a rounded arch. - -Within, the roof of the main cavern arched abruptly upwards, hollowing a -great dome over the smooth floor beneath. This grotesque and -rock-ripped hall served as guard-room and dormitory, a very various -chamber. Winding ways smote from it into the black bowels of the cliff. -The height of the main cavern dwindled as it tunnelled northwards into -the rock. A second wall of stone partitioned the guard-room from a -second and smaller chamber, lit always by a great lamp pendent from the -ceiling, a chamber that served Fulviac as state-room. - -From Fulviac's parlour the cavern narrowed to a throat-like gallery that -had been expanded by human craft into a third and smaller room. This -last rock chamber was wholly more healthy and habitable than the others. -Its walls stood squarely from floor to rocky roof, and it was blessed -with a wide casement, that stared northwards over a vista of obeisant -trees. A postern gave entry to the room from a narrow platform, and -from this ledge a stairway cut in the flank of the cliff dwindled into -the murk of the forest below. - -A more romantic atmosphere had swept into the bleak galleries of the -place that winter. Plundered stores were ransacked, bales of -merchandise ungirded, caskets and chests pilfered as for the endowing of -the chamber of a queen. The northern room in the cliff blossomed into -the rich opulence of a lady's bower. Its stone walls were panelled with -old oak carvings taken from some ancient manor. There were tapestries of -green, gold, and purple; an antique bed with a tester of silver silk, -its flanks blazoned with coloured escutcheons. Painted glass, azure, -red, and gold, jewelled the casement, showing also Sebastian bound to -his martyr's tree. A Jew merchant plundered on the road had surrendered -a set of brazen ewers, a lute inlaid with pearl, a carpet woven on the -looms of the purple East. There were mirrors of steel about the walls. -A carved prayer-desk, an embroidery frame, a crucifix wrought in ivory: -Fulviac had consecrated all these to Yeoland, dead Rual's daughter. - -A white lily amid a horde of thistles! The girl's life had drawn under -the black shadow of the cliff, and into the clanging torrent of these -rough men of the sword. It was a wild age and a wild region. Fulviac's -rogues were like wolves in a forest lair, keen, bloody, and relentless. -There was a rude strain of violence running through the strenuous mood -of the place, like the song of Norse rovers, piercing the roar of the -sea. Mystery enveloped the girl, war, and the sound of the sword. She -fumbled at the riddle of Fate with the trembling fingers of one who -unbars a prison gate in the hush of night. It was all strange and -fantastic beyond the riot of a dream. - -"Madame," Fulviac had said to her when he had hung a key at her girdle, -"I have bidden you trust me; remember that I trust you in turn. Take -this room as your sanctuary. Lock me out when you will. I prepare, -among other things, to perfect your vengeance." - -Yeoland suffered him and her necessity. She was shrewdly wise in the -conviction that it would be useless to rebel against the man. Though -over-masterful and secretive, his purpose appeared benignant in the -opulence of its favour. Moreover, the forest was as a vast web holding -her within the maze of the unknown. - -"I have no alternative," she said to him, "I am in your power. And yet, -I believe you are no villain." - -"Your charity pleases me. I am a man with a strong purpose." - -"For good?" - -"Do I not need you?" - -"Am I then so powerful a person?" - -"You will learn anon." - -"You seem something of a mystic," she said to him. - -"Madame," he retorted, "trust my discretion. In due season I shall -unfold to you certain aspects of life that will kindle your sympathies. -I shall appeal to the woman in you. When you are wise you will commend -my ambition." - -"You speak in riddles." - -"Wait. As yet you see through a glass darkly." - -From the mountainous north to the warm southern sea, from the wooded -west to the eastern fens, the good King ruled, holding many great barons -in feudal faith, and casting his fetters of gold over Church and State. -Chivalry moved through the world to the clangour of arms and the songs -of the troubadour. Lutes sounded on terrace and in garden, fair women -bloomed like roses, bathed in a sensuous blaze of romance. Baron made -war upon baron; glory and death were crowned together. The painter -spread his colours in the halls of the great; the goldsmith and the -carver wrought wondrous things to charm the eye. Church bells tolled. -Proud abbots carried the sword, and made fine flutter among the women. -Innumerable saints crowded the avenues to heaven. It was a fair age and -very lovely, full of colour and desire, music and the odour of romance. - -And the poor? Their lot hung largely on the humour of an overlord, or -the state of a gentleman's stomach. They had their saints' days, their -games, their pageants, their miracle plays. They had hovels of clay and -wattle; labour in wind and rain; plagues and pestilences in the rotting -filth of their city alleys. They marked the great folk go by in silks -and cloth of gold, saw the pomp and opulence of that other life, -remembered their own rags and their squealing children. - -And yet, consider the broad inclinations of the world. To eat, to be -warm, to satisfy the flesh, to ease a lust, to drink beer. There was no -very vast gulf betwixt the rich man and the poor. The one feasted to -music, the other scraped a bone to the dirge of toil. They had like -appetites, like satisfactions, and hell is considered to be Utopian in -the extreme. The poor man envied the rich; the rich man ruled the poor. -Envy, that jingling demagogue, has made riotous profit out of such a -stew since the world was young. - -Fulviac's cliff was shut out from the ken of man by leagues of woodland, -moor, and waste. The great pine forest girded it in its inmost bosom. -No wayfarers rode that way; no huntsman ranged so deep; the place had an -evil rumour; many whom it had welcomed had never returned. Romancers -had sung of it, the lay of Guingamor. Horror ruled black-browed over its -pine-cumbered hills, its gloomy depths. Solitude abode there, as over a -primaeval sea, and there was no sound save the moan or storm-cry of the -wind over its troubled trees. - -According to legend lore, Romulus peopled Rome with the offscourings of -Italy. Fulviac had emulated the device with the state-craft of a strong -conspirator. The forest stood a grand accomplice, abetting him with its -myriad sentinels, who gossiped solely with the wind. The venture had -been finely conceived, finely edificated. A cliff, a cave, five-score -armed men. Not a vast power on the face of it to threaten a system or -to shake a throne. Superficialities were fallacious, the surface false -and fair as glistening ice. The forest hid more than a company of -ruffians banded together to resist tyranny. Enthusiasm, genius, vigour, -such torches, like a burning hovel, can fling a city into flame. - -As for the girl Yeoland, she was more than mocked by the swift vagaries -of life. Two days of mordant realism had erased from her heart the -dream visions of childhood. To be declared homeless, kinless, in one -day; to be bereft of liberty the next! To what end? She stared round -the richly-garnished room into which Fate had thrust her, fingered the -pearl-set lute, gazed at her own face in the steel mirrors. She was the -same woman, yet how differently circumstanced! Fulviac's mood had not -hinted at love, or at any meaner jest. What power could he prophesy to -his advantage in the mere fairness of her face? What was the gall of a -woman's vengeance to a man who had conceived the downfall of a kingdom? - -Her knowledge of psychology was rustic in the extreme, and she had no -wit for the unravelling of Fulviac's subtleties. There were certain -convictions, however, that abode with her even in her ignorance. She -could have taken oath that he was no mere swashbuckler, no captain of -outlaws, no mere spoiler of men. Moreover, she believed him to be the -possessor of some honour, and a large guerdon of virility. Lastly, pity -appealed her as a sentiment not to be discarded. The man, whoever he -might be, appeared desirous of putting his broad shoulders betwixt her -and the world. - -Fulviac grew perspicuous sooner than she could have prophesied. He had -a fine, cloud-soaring way with him that seemed to ignore the mole-hills -of common circumspection. He had wit enough also to impose his trust on -others with a certain graceful confidence that carried bribery in the -very generosity of its hardiness. - -March was upon them like a spirit of discord, wild, riotous weather, -with the wind thundering like storm-waves upon the cliff. The pines -were buffeting each other in the forest, and reeling beneath the -scourgings of the breeze. Fulviac came to the girl one windy noon, when -the caverns were full of the breath of the storm. His manner to her -seemed as a significant prelude, heralding the deep utterance of some -human epic. - -Fulviac took the girl by a winding stair leading from the guard-room--a -stair that circled upwards in the thickness of the rock some hundred -steps or more, and opened into a basin-shaped pit on the plateau above. -Dwarf trees and briars domed the hollow, giving vision of a grey and -hurrying sky. The pair climbed a second stair that led to a rock -perched like a pulpit on the margin of the southern precipice. The wind -swept gusty and tempestuous over the cliff. It tossed back the girl's -hood, made her stagger; she would have fallen had not Fulviac gripped -her arm. - -Below stretched an interminable waste of trees, of bowing pine-tops, and -dishevelled boughs. The dull green of the forest merged into the grey -of the cloud-strewn sky. On either hand the craggy bulwarks of the -cliffs stretched east and west, its natural bartisans and battlements -topped by a cornice of mysterious pines. It was a superb scene, rich -with a wild liberty, stirred by the wizard chanting of the wind. - -Fulviac watched the girl as she stood limned against the grey curtain of -the sky. Her hair blew about her white throat and shoulders in sombre -streams; her eyes were very bright under their dusky lashes; and the -wind had kissed a stronger colour into her cheeks. She was clad in a -kirtle of laurel-green cloth, bound about the waist with a girdle of -silver. A white kerchief lay like snow over her shoulders and bosom; -her green sleeves were slashed and puffed with crimson. - -"Wild country," he said, looking in her eyes. - -"Wild as the sea." - -"You are a romanticist." - -She gave a curt laugh. - -"After what I have suffered!" - -"Romance and sorrow go hand in hand. For the moment my words are more -material. You see this cliff?" - -She turned to him and stood watching his face. - -"This cliff is the core of a kingdom. A granite wedge to hurl feudalism -to ruins, to topple tyranny." - -She nodded slowly, with a grave self-reservation. - -"You have hinted that you are ambitious," she said. - -"Ambition would have stormed heaven." - -"And your ladder?" - -The man made a strong gesture, like one who points a squadron to the -charge. His eyes shone with a glint of grimness under his shaggy brows. - -"The rabid discontent of the poor, fermenting ever under the crust of -custom. The hate of the toiler for the fop and the fool. The iron that -lies under the rusting injustice of riches. The storm-cry of a people's -vengeance against the tyrant and the torturer." - -Yeoland, solemn of face, groped diligently amid her surmises. The man -was a visionary by his own showing; it was impossible to mistake him for -a fool. Like all beings of uncommon power, he combined imagination with -that huge vigour of mind that moves the world. A vast element of -strength lay coiled in him, subtle, yet overpowering as the body of some -great reptile. The girl felt the gradual magic of his might mesmerising -her with the inevitableness of its approach. - -"You have brought me here?" she asked him. - -"As I promised." - -"Well?" - -"To tell you something of the truth." - -She looked at him with a penetrating frankness that was in -spirit--laudatory. - -"You put great trust in me," she said. - -"That I may trust the more." - -He sat himself down on a ledge of rock, and proceeded to parade before -her imagination such visions as were well conceived to daze the reason -of a girl taken fresh from a forest hermitage. He spoke of riot, -revolution, and revenge; painted Utopias established beneath the -benediction of a just personal tyranny, a country purged of oppression, -a kingdom cleansed of pride. He told of arms stored in the warrens of -the cliff, of grain and salted meat sufficient for an army. He pointed -out the vast strength of the place, the plateau approachable only by the -stairway in the cliff, and the narrow causeway towards the west. He -described it as sufficient for the gathering and massing of a great -host. Finally, he swept his hand over the leagues of forestland, dark as -the sea, isleting the place from the ken of the world. - -"You understand me?" he said to her. - -She nodded and waited with closed lips. He gazed at the horizon, and -spoke in parables. - -"The King and the nobles are throned upon a pile of brushwood. A torch -is plunged beneath; a tempest scourges the beacon into a furnace. The -kingdom burns." - -"Yes?" - -"Consider me no mere visionary; I have the country at my back. For five -years the work has gone on in secret. I have trusted nothing to chance. -It needs a bold man to strike at a kingdom. I--Fulviac, am that man." - - - - - VII - - -The free city of Gilderoy climbed red-roofed up a rocky hill, a hill -looped south-east and west by the blue breadth of the river Tamar. Its -castle, coroneting the central rock, smote into the azure, a sheaf of -glistening towers and turrets, vaned with gold. Lower still, the -cathedral's sable crown brooded above a myriad red-tiled roofs and -wooden gables. Many fair gardens blazoned the higher slopes of the -city. Tall walls of grey stone ringed round the whole, grim and quaint -with bartisan and turret. To the north, green meadows dipped to the -billowy distance of the woods. The silver streak of the sea could be -seen southwards from the platforms of the castle. - -Gilderoy was a rich city and a populous, turbulent withal, holding -honourable charters from the King, exceeding proud of its own freedom. -Its Guilds were the wealthiest in all the south; the coffers of its -Commune overflowed with gold. Nowhere was fairer cloth woven than in -Gilderoy. Nowhere could be found more cunning smiths, more subtle -armourers. The mansions of its rich merchant folk were wondrous opulent -and great, bedight with goodly tapestry and all manner of rare -furniture. Painters had gathered to it from the far south; its -courtezans were the joy of the whole kingdom. - -Two days after his confessions on the cliff, Fulviac took horse, mounted -Yeoland on a white palfrey, and rode for Gilderoy through the forest. -The man was upholstered as a merchant, in a plum-coloured cloak, a cap -of sables, and a Venetian mail cape. Yeoland wore a light blue jupon -edged with silver, a green kirtle, a cloak of brocaded Tartarin. She -rode beside the man, demure as a daughter, her bridle of scarlet leather -merry with silver bells. Two armed servants and some six packhorses -completed the cavalcade. - -Fulviac had fallen into one of his silent moods that day. He was -saturnine and enigmatic as though immersed in thought. The girl won -nothing from him as to the purpose of their ride. They were for -Gilderoy; thus much he vouchsafed her, and no more. She had a shrewd -belief that he was for giving her tangible evidence of the hazardous -schemes that were fermenting under the surface of silence, and that she -was to learn more of the tempest that was gathering in the dark. Being -tactful in her generation, she asked him no questions, and kept her -conjectures to herself. - -They broke their ride to pass the night at a wayside hostelry, where the -road from Gambrevault skirted the forest. Holding on at their good -leisure on the following day, they entered Gilderoy by the northern -gate, towards evening, with the cathedral bell booming a challenge to -the distant sea. Crossing the great square with its tall mansions of -carved oak and chiselled stone, they plunged into a narrow highway that -curled downhill under a hundred overhanging gables. Set back in a murky -court, a tavern hung out its gilded sign over the cobbles, a Golden -Leopard, that groaned in the wind on its rusty hinges. The inn's -casements glowed red under the gloom of roof and bracket. Fulviac rode -into its stone-paved court with its balustraded gallery, its carved -stairways, its creaking lamps swaying under the high-peaked gables. - -Their horses were taken by a lean groom, blessed with a most malevolent -squint. On the lower step of the gallery stair stood a rotund little -man, with a bunch of keys reposing on his stomach, the light from a -lantern overhead shining on his bald pate, as on a half sphere of -alabaster. He seemed to sweat beef and beer at every pore. Shuffling -his feet, he tilted his double chin to the sky, as though he were -conducting a monologue under the stars. - -"No brew yet," he hummed in a high falsetto, throaty and puling from so -ponderous a carcase. - -Fulviac set one foot on the stairs. - -"St. Prosper's wine, fat Jean," he said. - -The rotund soul turned his face suddenly earthwards, as though he had -been jerked down by one leg out of heaven. - -"Ah, sire, it is you." - -"Who else? What of the good folk of Gilderoy?" - -"Packed like a crowd of rats in a drain. Will your honour sup?" - -The man stood aside with a great sweep of the hand, and a garlic-ladened -breath given full in Yeoland's face. - -"And the lady, sire, a cup of purple; the roads are dry?" - -Fulviac pushed up the stairs. - -"We are late, and supped as we came. Your private cellar will suit us -better." - -"Of a truth, sire, most certainly." - -"Send the men back with the horses; Damian has his orders, and your -money-bag." - -"Rely on my dispatch, sire." - -"Well, then, roll on." - -Fat Jean, sweaty deity of pot and gridiron, took the keys from his -girdle and a lantern from a niche in the wall. Going at a wheezy -shuffle, he led them by a long passage and two circles of stairs to a -cellar packed with hogsheads, tuns, and great vats of copper. From the -first cellar a second opened, from the second, a third. In the last -vault Jean rolled a cask from a corner, turned a flagstone on its side, -showed them a narrow stairway descending into the dark. - -Fulviac took the lantern, made a sign to Jean, and passed down the -stairway with Yeoland at his heels. The tavern-keeper remained above in -the cellar, and closed the stone when the last gleam of the light had -died down the stair. He rolled the cask back into its place, and felt -his way back by cellar and stairway to the benignant glow of his own -tavern room. - -Fulviac and the girl had descended the black well of the stair. Tunnels -of gloom ran labyrinthine on every hand; a musty scent burdened the air, -and fine sand covered the floor. Fulviac held the lantern -shoulder-high, took Yeoland's wrist, and moved forward into a great -gallery that sloped downwards into the depths of the rock. The place -was silent as the death-chamber of a pyramid. The lantern fashioned -fantastic shadows from the gloom. - -Yeoland held close to the man with an instinct towards trust that made -her smile at her own thoughts. Fulviac had been in her life little more -than a week; yet his unequivocating strength had won largely upon her -liking--in no sentimental sense indeed, but rather with the calm command -of power. Possibly she feared him a very little. Yet with the despair -of a wrecked mariner she clung to him, in spirit, as she would have -clung to a rock. - -As they passed down the gallery with the lantern swinging in Fulviac's -hand, she began to question him with a quiet persistence. - -"What place is this?" she said. - -For retort, Fulviac pointed her to the wall, and held the lantern to aid -her scrutiny. The girl saw numberless recesses excavated in the rock; -some had been bricked up and bore tablets; others were packed with -grinning skulls. There were scattered paintings on the walls, symbolic -daubs, or scenes from scriptural history. The place was meaningless to -the girl, save that the dead seemed ever with them. - -Fulviac smiled at her solemn face. - -"The catacombs of the city of Gilderoy," he said; "yonder are the niches -of the dead. These paintings were made by early folk, centuries ago. A -veritable maze this, a gallery of skulls, a warren for ghosts to squeak -in." - -Yeoland had turned to scan a tablet on the wall. - -"We go to some secret gathering?" she asked. - -Fulviac laughed; the sound echoed through the passages with -reverberating scorn. - -"The same dark fable," he said, "telling of vaults and secret stairs, -passwords and poniards, masks and murder. Remember, little sister, you -are to be black and subtle to the heart's chords. This is life, not a -romance or an Italian fable. We are men here. There is to be no -strutting on the stage." - -The girl loitered a moment, as though her feet kept pace with her -cogitations. - -"I am content," she said, "provided I may eschew poison, nor need run a -bodkin under some wretch's ribs." - -"Be at peace on that score. I have not the heart to make a Rosamund of -you." - -Sudden out of a dark bye-passage, like a rat out of a hole, a man sprang -at them and held a knife at Fulviac's throat. The mock merchant gave -the password with great unconcern, putting his cap of sables back from -off his face. The sentinel crossed himself, fell on one knee, and gave -them passage. Turning a bluff buttress of stone, they came abruptly -upon a short gallery that widened into a great circular chamber, -pillared after the manner of a church. - -A flare of torches harassed the shadowy vault, and played upon a -thousand upturned faces that seemed to surge wave on wave out of the -gloom. In the centre of the crypt stood an altar of black marble, and -before it on the dais, a priest with a cowl down, a rough wooden -crucifix in his hand. A knot of men in armour gleamed about the altar, -ringing a clear space about the steps. Others, with drawn swords, kept -the entries of the galleries leading to the cavern. A great quiet hung -over the place, a silence solid as the rock above. - -A group of armed men waited for Fulviac at the main entry to the crypt. -He merged into their ranks, exchanging signs and words in an undertone -with one who seemed in authority. The ring of figures pressed through -the crowd towards the altar, Fulviac and Yeoland in their midst. -Fulviac mounted the steps, and drew the girl up beside him. He -uncovered his face to the mob with the gesture of a king uncovering to -his people. - -"Fulviac, Fulviac!" - -The press swayed suddenly like the black waters of a lake, stirred by -the rush of flood water through a broken dam. The ring of armed men -gave up the shout with a sweeping of swords and a clangour of harness. -The great cavern took up the cry, reverberating it from its thundering -vault. A thousand hands were thrust up, as of the dead rising from the -sea. - -Yeoland watched the man's face with a mute kindling of enthusiasm. As -she gazed, it beaconed forth a new dignity to her that she had never -seen thereon before. A sudden grandeur of strength glowed from its -weather-beaten features. The mouth and jaw seemed of iron; the eyes -were full of a stormy fire. It was the face of a man transfigured, -throned above himself on the burning pinnacle of power. He towered -above the mob like some granite god, colossal in strength, colossal in -courage. His manhood flamed out, a watch-fire to the world. - -As the cry dwindled, the priest, who still kept his cowl down over his -face, held his crucifix on high, and broke into the strident cadence of -a rebel ballad. The people followed as by instinct, knowing the song of -old. Many hundred voices gathered strenuously into the flood, the -massed roar rolling through the great crypt, echoing along the galleries -like the sound of some subterranean stream. It was a deep chant and a -stirring, strong with the strength of the storm wind, fanatic as the -sea. - -The silence that fell at the end thereof was the more solemn in contrast -to the thundering stanzas of the hymn. Under the flare of the torches, -Fulviac stood forward to turn the task from the crucifix to the sword. - -"Men of Gilderoy." - -A billow of cheering dashed again to the roof. - -"Fulviac, Fulviac!" - -The man suffered the cry to die into utter silence, before leaping into -a riot of words, a harangue that had more justification in it than -appeal. His voice filled the cavern with its volume and depth. It was -more the voice of a captain thundering commands to a squadron of horse -than the declamatory craft of the orator. Fulviac knew the mob, that -they were rough and turbulent, and loved a demagogue. Scholastic -subtleties could never fill their stomachs. - -"Men of Gilderoy, I come to you with the sword. Bombast, bombast, come -hither all, I'll laden ye with devilry, puff you up with pride. Ha, who -is for being strong, who for being master? Listen to me. Damnation and -death, I have the kingdom in the palm of my hand. Liberty, liberty, -liberty. We strike for the people. Geraint is ours; Gore is ours; all -the southern coast waits for the beacons. Malgo of the Mountain holds -the west like a storm cloud under his cloak. The east raves against the -King. Good. Who is for the stronger side, for Fulviac, liberty, and -the people?" - -He halted a moment, took breath, quieted all clamour with a sweep of the -hand, plunged on again like a great carrack buffeting tall billows. - -"Are there spies here? By God, let them listen well, and save their -skins. Go and tell what ye have heard. Set torch to tinder. Blood and -fire, the country would be in arms before the King could stir. No, no, -there are no spies in Gilderoy; we are all brothers here. By my sword, -sirs, I swear to you, that before harvest tide, we shall sweep the -nobles into the sea." - -A great shout eddied up to answer him. Fulviac's voice pierced it like -a trumpet cry. - -"Liberty, liberty, and the people!" - -Sound can intoxicate as well as wine. The thunder of war, the bray of -clarions, can fire even the heart of the coward. The mob swirled about -the altar of black marble, vociferous and eager. Torches rocked to and -fro in the cavern; shadows leapt grotesquely gigantic over the rough -groinings of the roof. Yet Fulviac had further and fiercer fuel for the -fire. At a sign from him, the circle of armed men parted; two peasants -stumbled forward bearing a cripple in their arms. They carried him up -the steps and set him upon the altar before all the people, supporting -him as he stared round upon the sea of faces. - -He was a shrivelled being, yellow, black of eye, cadaverous. He looked -like a man who had wallowed for years among toads in a pit, and had -become as one of them. His voice was cracked and querulous, as he -brandished a claw of a hand and screamed at the crowd. - -"Look at me, mates and brothers. Five years ago I was a tall man and -lusty. I forbade the Lord of Margradel my wife. They racked and -branded me, tossed me into a stinking pit. I am young, young. I shall -never walk again." - -A woman rushed from the crowd, grey-haired, fat, and bloated. She -climbed the altar steps, and stretched out her hands in a kind of frenzy -towards the people. - -"Look at me, men of Gilderoy. Last spring I had a daughter, a clean -wench as ever danced. Seek her from John of Brissac and his devils. -Ha, good words these for a mother. Men of Gilderoy, remember your -children." - -Fulviac's pageant gathered grimly before the mob. A blind man tottered -up and pointed to his sightless eyes. A girl held up an infant, and told -shrilly of its father's murder. One fellow displayed a tongueless -mouth; another, a face distorted by the iron; a third had lost nose and -ears; a fourth showed arms shrivelled and contracted by fire. It was a -sinister appeal, strong yet piteous. The tyranny of the age showed in -the bodies of these wronged and mutilated beings. They had been mere -carrion tossed under the iron heel of power. The granite car of -ruthless opulence and passion had crushed them under its reddened -wheels. - -At a gesture from Fulviac, the priest upon the steps threw back his cowl -and stood forward in the torchlight. His face was the face of a zealot, -fanatical, sanguine, lined with an energy that was prophetic of power. -His eyes smouldered under their straight black brows. His hands, white -and bony, quivered as he stretched them out towards the people. - -They knew him on the instant; their clamour told as much. Often had the -shadow of that thin figure fallen athwart the parched highways of -stricken cities. Often had those hands tended death, those lips smitten -awe into the souls of the drunkard and the harlot. - -"Prosper, Prosper the Preacher!" - -There rang a rude, rough joy in the clamour that was spontaneous and -eloquent. It was the heart's cry of the people, wild, trusting, and -passionate. Men and women broke through the circle of armed men, cast -themselves upon the altar steps, kissed the friar's gown, and fawned on -him. He put them back with a certain awkward dignity, and a hot colour -upon his almost boyish face. The man had a fine humility, though the -strenuous ideals of his soul ran in fire to the zenith. - -Anon he signed a benediction, and a hush descended on the place. - -"God's peace to you, people of Gilderoy!" - -The clamour revived. - -"Preach to us, preach to us!" came the cry. - -The friar stretched forth his hands; his voice rang strong and strident -over the packed upturned faces. - -"Children, what need have we of words! To-night have we not seen enough -to scourge the manhood in us, to bear forth the Holy Cross of war? The -evil beast is with us even yet; Mammon the Mighty treads you under foot. -Ye saints, what cause more righteous since the martyrs fell? Look on -these scars, these wrongs, these agonies. Preach! I am dumb beside -such witnesses as these." - -The crypt thundered to him when he lowered his hands. It was the cry of -men bankrupt of liberty, thirsty for revenge. Fulviac grappled the -climax, and stood forward with uplifted sword. His lion's roar sounded -above the din. - -"Go, people of Gilderoy," he cried, "go--but remember. When castles -burn, and bolts scream, when spears splinter, and armies crash to the -charge, remember your children and your wrongs. Strike home for God, -and for your liberty." - - - - - VIII - - -The crowd had streamed from the cavern, swirling like black water under -the tossing torches, the hollow galleries reverberating to the rush of -many feet. Prosper had gone, borne away by the seditious captains of -the Commune and the armed burghers who had guarded the entries. A great -silence had fallen upon the crypt. Fulviac and the girl were left by -the altar of black marble, their one lamp burning solitary in the gulf -of gloom. - -Fulviac had the air of a man whose favourite hawk had flown with fettle, -and brought her quarry tumbling out of the clouds. He was warm with the -zest of it, and his tawny eyes sparkled. - -"May the Virgin smile on us!" he said. "Gilderoy will serve our ends." - -The girl's eyes searched him gravely. - -"You make holy war," she charged him. - -"Ha, my sister, it is well to profess a strong conviction in the justice -of one's cause. Tell men they are heroes, patriots, martyrs, and you -will make good fighting stuff. Applaud fanaticism, make great parade of -righteousness, hail the Deity as patron, assemble all the saints under -your banner. Ha, trust me, that is a way to topple a kingdom. Come, we -must stir." - -By many labyrinthine passages, strange galleries of death, they passed -together from the dark deeps of the catacombs. At one point the roof -shone silvered as with dew, and the air stood damp as in a marsh on a -winter's eve. The river Tamar flowed above them in its rocky bed, so -Fulviac told the girl. Anon they came out by a narrow stair that opened -by a briar-grown throat into a thicket of old oaks in the Gilderoy -meadows. The stairhead was covered by a species of stone trap that -could be covered and concealed by sods. In the thicket a man awaited -them with the bridles of three horses over his arm. Fulviac held -Yeoland's stirrup, and they rode out, the three of them, from under the -trees. - -A full moon swam in a purple black sky amid a shower of shimmering -stars. Gilderoy, with its climbing towers and turrets, stood out white -under the moon. The city walls gleamed like alabaster in the magic -glow. In the meadows the ringlets of the river glimmered. Far and -distant rose the nebulous midnight of the woods. - -Fulviac had bared his head to an inconstant and torpid breeze. They -were riding for the west along a bridle track that curled grey and dim -through the sombre meadows. The calm, soundless vault of the world rose -now in contrast to the canopies of stone and the passion-throes of the -catacombs. Human moil and effort seemed infinitely little under the -eternal scrutiny of the stars. So thought the man for the moment, as he -rode with his chin sunk upon his breast, watching keenly the girl at his -side. - -Yeoland was young. All the roses of youth were budding about her soul; -idealism, like the essence of crushed violets, hovered heavy over the -world. Her soul as yet was no frayed and listless lute, thrummed into -discords by the bony hand of care. She was built for love, a temple of -white marble, lit by lamps of rubeous glory. Colours flashed through -the red sanctuaries of the flesh. Yet pain and great woe had smitten -her. The grim destinies of earth seemed bent on thrusting an innocent -pilgrim into the turbulent contradictions of life. - -The pageant in the catacombs that night had stirred her strangely beyond -belief. The fantastic faces, the zeal, the hot words of gesturing -enthusiasm, these were things new to her, therefore the more vivid and -convincing. New worlds, new passions, seemed to burst into being under -the stars. She was utterly silent as she rode, looking forth into the -night. Her hood had fallen back; her face shone white and clear; her -eyes gleamed in the moonlight. Fulviac, like a chess-player who had -evolved some subtle scheme, rode and watched her with a smile deep in -his eyes. For the moment he was content to leave her to the magic of -her own thoughts. - -At certain rare seasons in life, virgin light floods down into the -heart, as from some oriel opened in heaven. The world stands under a -grander scheme of chiaroscuro; men comprehend where they once scoffed. -It was thus that Yeoland rose inspired, like a spiritual Venus from a -sea of dreams. As molten glass is shaped speedily into fair and -exquisite device, so the red wax of her heart had taken the impress of -the hour. Gilderoy had stirred her like a blazoned page of romance. - -Fulviac caught the girl's half glance at him; read in measure the -meaning of her mood. Her lips were half parted as though she had words -upon her tongue, but still hesitated from some scruple of pride. He -straightened in the saddle, and waited for her to unbosom to him with a -confident reserve. - -"Well?" he said at length, since she still lingered in her silence. - -"How much one may learn in a day," she answered, drawing her white -palfrey nearer to his horse. - -Fulviac agreed with her. - -"The man on the end of the rope," he said, "learns in two minutes that -which has puzzled philosophers since Adam loved Eve." - -She turned to him with an eagerness that was almost passionate even in -its suppressed vigour. - -"How long was it before you came to pity your fellows?" - -"Some minutes, not more." - -"And the conversion?" - -"Shall satisfy you one day. For the present I will buckle up so -unsavoury a fable in my bosom. Tell me what you have learnt at -Gilderoy." - -Yeoland looked at the moon. The man saw great sadness upon her face, -but also an inspired radiance that made its very beauty the more -remarkable. He foresaw in an instant that they were coming to deeper -matters. Superficialities, the mannerisms of life, were falling away. -The girl's heart beat near to his; he felt a luminous sympathy of spirit -rise round them like the gold of a Byzantine background. - -"Come," he said, with a burst of beneficence, "you are beginning to -understand me." - -She jerked a swift glance at him, like the look of a half-tamed falcon. - -"You are a man, for all your sneers and vapourings." - -"I had a heart once. Call me an oak, broken, twisted, aged, but an oak -still." - -Yeoland drew quite close to him, so that her skirt almost brushed his -horse's flank. Fulviac's shadow fell athwart her. Only her face shone -clear in the moonlight. - -"I have ceased," she said, "to look upon life as a stretch of blue, a -laughing dawn." - -"Good." - -"I have learnt that woe is the crown of years." - -"Good again." - -"That life is full of violence and wrong." - -"A platitude. Yes. Life consists in learning platitudes." - -"I am only one woman among thousands." - -"A revelation." - -"You jeer." - -"Not so. Few women learn the truth of your proverb." - -"Lastly, my trouble is not the only woe in the world. That it is an -error to close up grief in the casket of self." - -Fulviac flapped his bridle, and looked far ahead into the cavern of the -night. He was silent awhile in thought. When he spoke again, he -delivered himself of certain curt cogitations, characteristic -confessions that were wholly logical. - -"I am a selfish vagabond," he said; "I appeal to Peter's keys whether -all ambition is not selfish. I am an egotist for the good of others. -The stronger my ambition, the stronger the hope of the land in generous -justice. I live to rule, to rule magnanimously, yet with an iron -sceptre. There, you have my creed." - -"And God?" she asked him. - -"Is a most useful subordinate." - -"You do not mean that?" - -"I do not." - -She saw again the mutilated beings in the catacombs, aye, even her own -home flaming to the sky, and the white face of her dead father. Faith -and devotion were great in her for the moment. Divine vengeance -beaconed over the world, a torch borne aloft by the hand of Pity. - -"It is God's war," she said to him with a finer solemnity sounding in -her voice; "you have stirred the woman in me. Is that enough?" - -"Enough," he answered her. - -"And the rest?" - -"God shall make all plain in due season." - -Gilderoy had dwindled into the east; its castle's towers still netted -the moonlight from afar. The meadowlands had ceased, and trees strode -down in multitudes to guard the track. The night was still and calm, -with a whisper of frost in the crisp, sparkling air. The world seemed -roofed with a dome of dusky steel. - -Before them a shallow valley lay white in the light of the moon. Around -climbed the glimmering turrets of the trees, rank on rank, solemn and -tumultuous. The bare gable ends of a ruined chapel rose in the valley. -Fulviac drew aside by a bridle path that ran amid rushes. To the left, -from the broken wall of the curtilage, a great beech wood ascended, its -boughs black against the sky, its floor ankle-deep with fallen leaves. -The chapel stood roofless under the moon. Hollies, a sable barrier that -glistened in the moonlight, closed the ruin on the south. Yews cast -their gloom about the walls. A tall cross in the forsaken graveyard -stretched out its mossy arms east and west. - -The armed groom took the horses and tethered them under a clump of pines -by the wall. Fulviac and the girl Yeoland passed up through weeds and -brambles to the porch. A great briar rose had tangled the opening with -a thorny web, as though to hold the ruin from the hand of man. The -tiled floor was choked with grass; a rickety door drooped rotten on its -rusty hinges. - -Fulviac pushed through and beckoned the girl to follow. Within, all was -ruinous and desolate, the roof fallen, the casements broken. - -"We must find harbour here," said the man, "our horses go far -to-morrow." - -"A cheerful hostel, this." - -"Its wildness makes it safe. You fear the cold. I'll see to that." - -"No. I am hungry." - -The high altar still stood below the small rose window in the east, -where the rotting fragments of a triptych hid the stonework. There was -a great carved screen of stone on either side, curiously recessed as -though giving access to an ambulatory. The altar stood in dense shadow, -with broken timber and a tangle of briars ringing a barrier about its -steps. On the southern side of the nave, a patch of tiled flooring -still stood riftless, closed in by two fallen pillars. The groom came -in with two horse-cloaks, and Fulviac spread them on the tiles. He also -gave her a small flask of wine, and a silver pyx holding meat and bread. - -"We crusaders must not grumble at the rough lodging," he said to her; -"wrap yourself in these cloaks, and play the Jacob with a stone pillow." - -She smiled slightly in her eyes. The groom brought in a saddle, ranged -it with a saddle cloth covering it, that it might rest her head. - -"And you?" she said to Fulviac. - -"Damian and I hold the porch." - -"You will be cold." - -"I have a thick hide. The Lady of Geraint give you good rest!" - -He threaded his way out amid the fallen stones and pillars, and closed -the rickety gate. The groom, a tall fellow in a battered bassinet and a -frayed brigantine, stood by the yew trees, as on guard. Fulviac -gestured to him. The man moved away towards the eastern end of the -chapel, where laurels grew thick and lusty about the walls. When he -returned Fulviac was sitting hunched on a fallen stone in the corner of -the porch, as though for sleep. The man dropped a guttural message into -his master's ear, and propped himself in the other angle of the porch. - -An hour passed; the moon swam past the zenith towards the west; a vast -quiet watched over the world, and no wind rippled in the woods. In the -sky the stars shivered, and gathered more closely their silver robes. -In the curtilage the ruined tombs stared white and desolate at the moon. - -An owl's cry sounded in the woods. Sudden and strange, as though -dropped from the stars, faint music quivered on the frost-brilliant air. -It gathered, died, grew again, with a mysterious flux of sweetness, as -of some song stealing from the Gardens of the Dead. Flute, cithern, and -viol were sounding under the moon, merging a wizard chant into the magic -of the hour. Angels, crimson-winged, in green attire, seemed to descend -the burning stair of heaven. - -A sudden great radiance lit the ruin, a glory of gold streaming from the -altar. Cymbals clashed; waves of shimmering light surged over the -broken walls. Incense, like purple smoke, curled through the casements. -The music rushed in clamorous rapture to the stars. A voice was heard -crying in the chapel, elfin and wild, yet full of a vague rich sanctity. -It ceased sudden as the brief moan of a prophecy. The golden glow -elapsed; the music sank to silence. Nought save the moonlight poured in -silver omnipotence over the ruin. - -From the chapel came the sound of stumbling footsteps amid the stones. -A hand clutched at the rotting door, jerked it open, as in terror. The -girl Yeoland came out into the porch, and stood swaying white-faced in -the shadow. - -"Fulviac." - -Her voice was hoarse and whispering, strained as the overwrought strings -of a lute. The man did not stir. She bent down, dragged at his cloak, -calling to him with a quick and gathering vehemence. He shook himself, -as from the thongs of sleep, stood up and stared at her. The groom -still crouched in the dark corner. - -"Fulviac." - -She thrust her way through the briars into the moonlight. Her hood had -fallen back, her hair loose upon her shoulders; her eyes were full of a -supernatural stupor, and she seemed under the spell of some great shock -of awe. She trembled so greatly, that Fulviac followed her, and held her -arm. - -"Speak. What has chanced to you?" - -She still shook like some flower breathed upon by the oracular voice of -God. Her hands were torn and bloody from the thorns. - -"The Virgin has appeared to me." - -"Are you mad?" - -"The Virgin." - -"Some ghost or phantom." - -"No, no, hear me." - -She stretched out her hands like one smitten blind, and took breath -swiftly in sudden gasps. - -"Hear me, I was but asleep, woke, and heard music. The Virgin came out -upon the altar, her face like the moon, her robes white as the stars. -There was great light, great glory. And she spoke to me. Mother of -God, what am I that I should be chosen thus!" - -"Speak. Can this be true?" - -"The truth, the truth!" - -Fulviac fell on his knees with a great gesture of awe. The girl, her -face turned to the moon, stood quivering like a reed, her lips moving as -if in prayer. - -"Her message, child?" - -"Ah, it was this: 'Go forth a virgin, and lead the hosts of the Lord.'" - -Fulviac's face was in shadow. He thrust up his hands to the heavens, -but would not so much as glance at the girl above him. His voice rang -out in the silence of the night:-- - -"Gloria tibi, Sancta Maria! Gloria tibi, Domine!" - - - - - IX - - -Faith, golden crown of the Christian! Self-mesmerism, subtle alchemy of -the mind! How the balance of belief swings between these twain! - -A spiritual conception born in a woman's brain is as a savour of rich -spices sweetening all the world. How great a power of obstinacy stirs -in one small body! A pillar of fire, a shining grail. She will bring -forth the finest gems that hang upon her bosom, the ruby of heroism, the -sapphire of pity. She will cast all her store of gold into the lap of -Fate. Give to her some radiant dream of hope, and she may prove the -most splendid idealist, even if she do not prove a wise one. Remember -the women who watched about the Cross of Christ. - -There had been trickery in the miracle, a tinge of flesh in the vision. -The Virgin, in the ruck of religion, had suffered herself to be -personated by a clever little "player" from Gilderoy, aided and -idealised by a certain notorious charlatan who dealt in magic, was not -above aiding ecclesiastical mummeries on occasions, and conspiring for -the solemn production of miracles. A priest's juggling box, a secret -door at the back of the altar used in bygone days for the manipulation -of a wonder-working image, musicians, incense, and Greek fire. These -had made the portent possible. As for Fulviac, rugged plotter, he was -as grave as an abbot over the business; his words were wondrous -beatific; he spoke of the interventions of Heaven with bated breath. - -It was a superstitious age, touched with phantasy and gemmed with magic. -Relics were casketed in gold and silver; holy blood amazed with yearly -liquefactions the souls of the devout; dreamers gazed into mirrors, -crystals, finger-nails, for visions of heaven. Jewels were poured in -scintillant streams at the white feet of the Madonna. It was all done -with rare mysticism, colour, and rich music. The moon ruled marriage, -corn, and kine. The saints, like a concourse of angels, walked with -melancholy splendour through the wilds. - -As for the girl Yeoland, she had the heart of a woman in the noblest -measure, a red heart, pure yet passionate. The world waxed prophetic -that shrill season. She was as full of dreams and phantasies as an -astrologer's missal. Nothing amazed her, and yet all earth was -mysterious. The wind spoke in magic syllables; the trees were oracular; -the stars, white hands tracing symbols in the sky. She was borne above -herself on the pinions of ecstasy, heard seraph wings sweep the air, saw -the glimmer of their robes passing the portals of the night. Mysticism -moved through the world like the sound of lutes over a moonlit sea. - -One March morning, Fulviac came to her in the northern chamber of the -cliff. Yeoland had masses of scarlet cloth and threads of gold upon her -knees, for she was broidering a banner, the banner of the Maid of -Gilderoy. Her eyes were full of violet shadow. She wore a cross over -her bosom, emeralds set in silver; a rosary, dangling on her wrist, told -how her prayers kept alternate rhythm with her fingers. Fulviac crooked -the knee to the crucifix upon the wall, sat down near her on a rich -bench of carved cedar wood. - -The man was in a beneficent mood, and beamed on her like a lusty summer. -He had tidings on his tongue, tidings that he hoarded with the craft of -an epicure. It was easy to mark when the world trundled well with his -humour. He put forth smiles like a great oak whose boughs glisten in -the sun. - -"You will tire yourself, little sister." - -She looked at him with one of her solemn glances, a glance that spoke of -vigils, soul-searchings, and prayer. - -"My fingers tire before my heart," she said to him. - -"Rest, rest." - -"Do I seem weary to you?" - -"Nay, you are fresh as the dawn." - -He brushed back the tawny hair from off his forehead, and the lines -about his mouth softened. - -"I have news from the west." - -"Ah!" - -"We gather and spread like fire in a forest. The mountain men are with -us, ready to roll down from the hills with hauberk and sword. In two -months Malgo will have sent the bloody cross through all the west." - -The golden thread ran through the girl's white fingers; the beads of her -rosary rattled; she seemed to be weaving the destiny of a kingdom into -the device upon her banner. - -"How is it with us here?" she asked him. - -"I have a thousand stout men and true camped upon the cliff. Levies are -coming in fast, like steel to a magnet. In a month we shall outbulk a -Roman legion." - -"And Gilderoy?" - -"Gilderoy and Geraint will give us a score thousand pikemen." - -"The stars fight for us." - -Fulviac took her lute from the carved bench and began to thrum the -chords of an old song. - - "Spears crash, and swords clang, - Fame maddens the world. - Come battle and love. - Iseult-- - Ah, Iseult." - -He broke away with a last snap at the strings, and set the lute aside. - -"Bear with me," he said. - -Her dark eyes questioned him over her banner. - -"I offer you the first victim." - -"Ah!" - -"Flavian of Gambrevault." - -An indefinite shadow descended upon the girl's face. The inspired -radiance seemed dimmed for the moment; the crude realism of her thoughts -rang in discord to her dreams. She lost the glimmering thread from her -needle. Her hands trembled a little as she played with the scarlet folds -of the banner. - -"Well?" - -"A lad of mine bears news--a black-eyed rogue from the hills of -Carlyath, sharp as a sword's point, quaint as an elf. I sent him -gleaning, and he has done bravely. You would hear his tale from his own -lips?" - -She nodded and seemed distraught. - -"Yes. Bring him in to me," she said. - -Fulviac left her, to return with a slim youth sidling in behind him like -a shadow. The lad had a nut-brown skin and ruddy cheeks, a pair of -twinkling eyes, a thatch of black hair over his forehead. Bred amid the -hills of Carlyath, where the women were scarlet Eves, and the land a -paradise, he had served in Gilderoy as apprentice to an armourer. -Carlyath's wilds and the city's roguery had mingled in him fantastic -strains of extravagant sentiment and cunning. Half urchin, half elf, he -stood with bent knees and slouched shoulders, his black eyes alert on -Fulviac, his lord. - -The man thrust him forward by the collar, with an eloquent gesture. - -"The whole tale. Try your wit." - -The Carlyath lad advanced one foot, and with an impudent southern smirk, -remarked-- - -"This, madame, is an infatuated world." - -Thus, sententiously delivered, he plunged into a declamation with a -picturesque and fanciful extravagance that he had imbibed from the -strolling romancers of his own land. - -"In the city of Gilderoy," he said, speaking very volubly and with many -gestures, "there lives a lady of surpassing comeliness. Her eyes are as -the sky, her cheeks as June roses, her hair a web of gold. She is a -right fair lady, and daily she sits at her broad casement, singing, and -plaiting her hair into shackles of gold. She has bound the Lord Flavian -of Gambrevault in a net starred with poppies, scarlet poppies of the -field, so that he ever dreams dreams of scarlet, and sees visions of -lips warm as wine. Daily the Lord Flavian scours the country between -Avalon and the fair city of Gilderoy, till the very dust complains of -his fury, and the green grass curses his horse's heels. But the lady -with the hair of gold compasses him like the sunset; she has stolen the -eyes of heaven, and the stars are blind." - -Fulviac smiled over the extreme subtlety of the rendering. It was a -delicate matter, delicately handled. The Carlyath lad had wit, and a -most seraphic tongue. - -"What more?" - -"There is yet another lady at Avalon." - -"Well?" - -"A lady whose name is Duessa, a lady with black hair and a blacker -temper. Lord Flavian has a huge horror of her tongue. Therefore he -rides like a thief, without trumpets, to Gilderoy." - -"Yet more." - -The lad spread his hands with an inimitable gesture, shrugged, and -heaved a most Christian sigh. - -"The Lady Duessa is the Lord Flavian's wife," he said. - -"Surely." - -"Therefore, sire, he is a coward." - -The lad drew back with a bow and a scrape of the foot, keeping his eyes -on the floor with the discretion of a veteran lackey. At a sign from -Fulviac, he slipped away, and left Yeoland and the man alone. - -The girl's hands were idle in her lap; the great scarlet banner trailed -in rich folds about her feet. There was a white mask of thought upon -her face, and her eyes searched the distance with an oblivious stare. -All the strong discords of the past rushed clamorous to her brain; her -consecrated dreams were as so many angels startled by the assaults of -hell. - -She rose from her chair, cast the casement wide, and stood gazing over -the forest. Youth seemed in the breeze, and the clear voice of the -Spring. The green woods surged with liberty; the strong zest of life -breathed in their bosoms. In the distance the pines seemed to beckon to -her, to wave their caps in windy exultation. - -Fulviac had stood watching her with the calm scrutiny of one wise in the -passionate workings of the soul. He suffered her to possess her -thoughts in silence for a season, to come by a steady comprehension of -the past. Presently he gathered the red banner, and hung it on the -frame, went softly to her and touched her sleeve. - -"Shall they kill him on the road?" he asked. - -She pondered a moment, and did not answer him. - -"It is easy," he said, "and a matter of sheer justice." - -The words seemed to steel her decision. - -"No," she said, "let them bring him here--to me." - -"So be it," he answered her. - -Fulviac found her cold and taciturn, desirous of solitude. He humoured -the mood, and she was still staring from the window when he left her. -The woodland had melted before her into an oblivious mist. In its stead -she saw a tower flaming amid naked trees, a white face staring -heavenwards with the marble tranquillity of death. - - - - - X - - -Down through the woods of Avalon rode the Lord Flavian of Gambrevault, -down towards the forest track in the grey face of the dawn. In the -meadows and beyond the orchards, water shone, and towers stood mistily. -The voice of Spring pulsed in the air, songs of green woods, the wild -wine of violets, pavements of primrose gold. Birds piped lustily in -wood and thicket, and the ascending sun lavished his glittering archery -from the chariots of the clouds. - -The Lord Flavian was inordinately cheerful that morning, as he rode in -green and red through the prophetic woods. Heart and weather were in -kindred keeping, and his youth sang like a brook after April rains. The -woods danced in dew. Far on its rocky hill the towers of Gilderoy would -soon beckon him above the trees. Beneath the shadow of the cathedral -tower stood a gabled house with gilded vanes and roofs of generous red. -There in Gilderoy, in a room hung with cloth of purple and gold, white -arms waited, and the bosom of a golden Helen held love like a red rose -in a pool of milky spikenard. - -Picture a slim but muscular man with the virile figure of a young David, -a keen, smooth face, a halo of brown hair, eyes eloquent as a woman's. -Picture a good grey horse trapped in red and green, full of fettle as a -colt, burly as a bull. Picture the ermined borderings, the jewelled -clasps, brigantine of quilted velvet, fur-lined bassinet bright as a -star. Youth, clean, adventurous, aglow to the last finger-tip, -impetuous to the tune of thirty breaths a minute. Youth with all its -splendid waywardness, its generosities, its immense self-intoxications. -Youth with the voice of a Golden Summer in its heart, and for its plume -the gorgeous fires of eve. - -Wealth often breeds apathy and parsimonious instincts. It is the beggar -whose purse bursts with joy, whose soul blazes generous red upon the -clouds. As for Flavian of Gambrevault and Avalon, he was rich but no -miser, proud yet not haughty, sanguine but not vicious. Like many a man -inspired by an instinctive idealism, his heart ran before his reason: -they not having come cheek by jowl as in later years. He was very -devout, yet very worldly; very ardent, yet over hasty. Mark him then, a -lovable fool in the eyes of philosophy; a cup of mingled wine, both -white and red. He was a great lord; yet his serfs loved him. - -The Lady Duessa's parents, good folk, had been blessed with aspirations. -Gambrevault and Avalon had bulked very gloriously under the steel-blue -vault of pride. Moreover, their daughter was a sensuous being, who -panted for poetic surroundings, and lived to music. A boy of twenty; a -passionate, dark-eyed, big-bosomed houri of twenty and five; bell, book, -and ring--such had been the bridal bargain consummated on church -principles five years ago or more. A youth of twenty is not supremely -wise concerning the world, or his own heart. The Lord Flavian's -marriage had not proved a magic blessing to him. Parentally sealed -marriage deeds are the edicts of the devil. - -Quickly are the mighty fallen, and the chalices of love broken. It was -no mere chance ambuscade that waited open-mouthed for Flavian, Lord of -Gambrevault and Avalon, Warden of the Southern Marches, Knight of the -Order of the Rose, as he rode that morning to Gilderoy, a disciple of -Venus. In a certain perilous place, the road ran betwixt walls of rock, -and under the umbrage of overhanging trees. Twenty men with pike and -gisarme swarming out of the woods; a short scuffle and a stabbed horse; -a gag in the mouth, a bandage over the eyes, a mule's back, half a dozen -thongs of stout leather. That same evening the Lord Flavian was brought -like a bale of merchandise into Fulviac's guard-room, and tumbled on a -heap of straw in a corner. - -They were grim men, these forest rangers, not given to pity, or the -light handling of a feud. A poniard point was their pet oath, a whip of -the sword the best word with an enemy. They bit their thumb nails at -creation, and were not gentle in the quest of a creed. Fulviac heard -their news, and commended them. They were like the ogres of the old -fables; the red blood of a lusty aristocrat smelt fresh for the sword's -supper. - -The girl Yeoland was at her prayer-desk with a blazoned breviary under -her fingers, when Fulviac came to her with tidings of the day's capture. -She knelt with her hands crossed upon her bosom, as Fulviac stood in the -darkened doorway. To the man she appeared as the Madonna in some -picture of the Annunciation, the yellow light from the lamp streaming -down upon her with a lustre of sanctity. - -"They have brought the boar home." - -"Dead?" - -"Nay; but his corpse candle walks the cavern." - -For the girl it was a descent from spiritual themes to the stark realism -of life. She left her prayer-desk with a little sigh. Her hands -trembled as she drew a scarlet cloak about her, and fastened it with a -girdle of green leather. Her eyes dwelt on Fulviac's face with a species -of dusky pain. - -"Come," he said to her. - -"Whither?" - -"To judge him." - -"Not before all, not in the guard-room." - -"Leave it to me," he said. "Be forewarned. We deal with no mere -swashbuckler." - -They went together to Fulviac's parlour, where a great brazen lamp hung -from the roof, and a book bound in black leather lay chained on the -table. Yeoland took the man's carved chair, while he stood behind her -leaning on the rail. She was paler than was her wont. Now and again -she pressed a hand to her breast, as though to stay the too rapid -beating of her heart. - -Two guards bearing partisans came in from the guard-room with a man -bound and blindfold between them. A third followed, bearing a -two-handed sword naked over his shoulder. He was known as Nord of the -Hammer, an armourer like to a Norse Volund, burly, strong as a bear. The -door was barred upon them. One of the guards plucked the cloth from the -bound man's face. - -In the malicious imagery of thought, Yeoland had often pictured to -herself this Flavian of Gambrevault, a coarse, florid ruffian, burly and -brutal, a fleshly demigod in the world of feudalism. So much for -conjecture. What she beheld was a straight-lipped, clean-limbed man, -slim as a cypress, supple as good steel. The face was young yet strong, -the grey eyes clear and fearless. Moreover there was a certain lonely -look about him that invoked pity, and angered her in an enigmatic way. -She was wrath with him for being what he was, for contradicting the -previous imaginings of her mind. - -Flavian of Gambrevault stood bound before her, an aristocrat of -aristocrats, outraged in pride, yet proud beyond complaint. The -self-mastery of his breeding kept him a stately figure despite his -tumbling and his youth, one convinced of lordship and the powerful -splendour of his name. The whole affair to him was illogical, -preposterous, insolent. A gentleman of the best blood in the kingdom -could not be hustled out of his dignity by the horse-play of a bevy of -cut-throats. - -Possibly the first vision to snare the man's glance was the elfin -loveliness of the girl, who sat throned in the great chair as on a -judgment seat. He marked the rose-white beauty of her skin, her -sapphire eyes gleaming black in certain lights, her ebon hair bound with -a fillet of sky-blue leather. Moreover, it was plain to the man in turn -that this damoisel in the red gown was deciphering his features in turn -with a curiosity that was no vapid virtue. As for Fulviac, he watched -them both with his amber-brown eyes, eyes that missed no movement in the -mask of life. To him the scene under the great brazen lamp was a study -in moods and emotions. - -The aristocrat was the first to defy the silence. He had stared round -the room at his leisure, and at each of its motionless figures in turn. -The great sword, slanted in gleaming nakedness over Nord's shoulder, -appeared to fascinate him for the moment. Despite his ambiguous -sanctity, he showed no badge of panic or distress. - -Ignoring the woman, he challenged Fulviac, who leant upon the chair -rail, watching him with an enigmatic smile. - -"Goodman in the red doublet," quoth he, "when you have stared your fill -at me, I will ask you to read me the moral of this fable." - -Fulviac stroked his chin with the air of a man who holds an adversary at -some subtle disadvantage. - -"Messire," he said, "address yourself to madame--here; you are her -affair in the main." - -The Warden of the Southern Marches bowed as by habit. His grey eyes -reverted to Yeoland's face, searching it with a certain courteous -curiosity that took her beauty for its justification. The woman was an -enigma to him, a most magical sphinx whose riddle taunted his reason. - -"Madame," he began. - -The girl stiffened in her chair at the word. - -"You hold me at a disadvantage, seeing that I am ignorant of sin or -indiscretion against you. If it is a question of gold----" - -"Messire!" - -He swept her exclamation suavely aside and ran on mellifluously. - -"If it is a question of gold, let me beseech you to be frank with me. I -will covenant with you instanter. My seneschal at Gambrevault will -unbolt my coffers, and ease your greed. Pray be outspoken. I will -renounce the delight of lodging here for a purse of good rose nobles." - -There was the faintest tinge of insolence in the man's voice, an -insolence that exaggerated to the full the charge of plunder in his -words. Whether he hinted at blood money or no, there was sufficient -poison in the sneer to fire the brain and scorch the heart to vengeance. - -The woman had risen from her chair, and stood gripping the carved -woodwork with a passion that set her arms quivering like bands of -tightened steel. The milk-white calm had melted from her face. Wrath -ran riot in her blood. So large were her pupils that her eyes gleamed -red. - -"Ha, messire, I bring you to justice, and you offer me gold." - -The man stared; his eyes did not quail from hers. - -"Justice, madame! Of what sin then am I accused? On my soul, I know not -who you are." - -She calmed herself a little, shook back her hair from her shoulders, -fingered her throat, breathing fast the while. - -"My name, messire? Ha, you shall have it. I am Yeoland, daughter of -that Rual of Cambremont whom you slaughtered at the gate of his burning -house. I--am the sister of those fair sons whom you did to death. Blood -money, forsooth! God grant, messire, that you are in honest mind for -heaven, for you die to-night." - -The man had bent to catch her words. He straightened suddenly like a -tree whose throat is loosed from the grim grip of the wind. He went -grey as granite, flushed red again as a dishonoured girl. The words had -touched him with the iron of truth. - -"Hear me," he said to her. - -"Ah, you would lie." - -"By Heaven, no; give me an hour's justice." - -"Murderer." - -"Before God, you wrong me." - -He stood with twitching lips, shackled hands twisting one within the -other. For the instant words eluded him, like fruit jerked from the -mouth of a thirst-maddened Tantalus. Anon, his manhood gathered in him, -rushed forth redly like blood from a stricken throat. - -"Daughter of Rual, hear me, I tell you the truth. I, Flavian of -Gambrevault, had in my pay a company of hired 'spears,' rough devils -from the north. The braggarts served me against John of Brissac, were -half their service drunk and mutinous. When Lententide had come, their -captain swore to me, 'Lording, pay us and let us go. We have spilt blood -near Gilderoy,' scullion blood he swore, 'give us good bounty, and let -us march.' So at his word I gave them largesse, and packed them from -Gambrevault with pennons flying. Methought they and their brawlings -were at an end. Before God and the saints, I never knew of this." - -Yeoland considered him, strenuous as he seemed towards truth. He was -young, passionate, sanguine; for one short moment she pitied him, and -pondered his innocence in her heart. It was then that Fulviac plucked -at her sleeve, spoke in her ear, words that hardened her like a winter -frost. - -She stared in the man's eyes, as she gave him his death-thrust with the -sureness of hate. - -"Blood for blood," were her words to him. - -"Is this justice!" - -"I have spoken." - -"Monstrously. Hear me----" - -"Messire, make your peace with Heaven, I give you till daylight." - -The man stumbled against the table, white as the moon. Youth strove in -him, the crimson fountain of life's wine, the wild cry of the dawn. His -eyes were great with a superhuman hunger. Fulviac's strong voice -answered him. - -"Hence, hence. At dawn, Nord, do your duty." - - - - - XI - - -Give doubt the password, and the outer battlements are traitorously -stormed. Parley with pity, and the white banner flutters on the keep. - -Provided her emotions inspire her, a woman is strong; let her take to -logic, and she is a rushlight wavering in the wind. In her red heart -lies her divinity; her feet are of clay when reason rules her head. - -The girl Yeoland took doubt to her chamber that night, a malicious -sprite, sharp of wit and wild of eye. All the demons of discord were -loosed in the silence of the night. Pandora's box stood open, and the -hours were void of sleep; faces crowded the shadows, voices wailed in -the gloom. Her thoughts rioted like frightened bats fluttering and -squeaking round a torch. Sleep, like a pale Cassandra, stood aloof and -watched the mask of these manifold emotions. - -Turn and twist as she would amid her fevered pillows, a wild voice -haunted her, importunate and piteous. As the cry of one sinking in a -stormy sea, it rang out with a passionate vehemence. Moreover, there -was a subtle echo in her own heart, a strong appeal that did not spare -her, toss and struggle as she would. Decision fluttered like a wounded -bird. Malevolence rushed back as an ocean billow from the bastion of a -cliff that emblemed mercy. - -With a beating of wings and a discordant clamour, a screech-owl buffeted -the casement. A lamp still burnt beneath the crucifix; the glow had -beaconed the bird out of the night. Starting up with a shiver of fear, -she quenched the lamp, and crept back to bed. The darkness seemed to -smother her like a cloak; the silence took to ghostly whisperings; a -death-watch clicked against the wall. - -The night crawled on like a funeral cortege. Baffled, outfaced, -sleepless, she rose from her tumbled bed, and paced the room as in a -fever. Still wakefulness and a thousand dishevelled thoughts that hung -about her like her snoodless hair. Again and again, she heard the -distant whirr and rattle of wheels, the clangour of the wire, as the -antique clock in Fulviac's chamber smote away the hours of night. Each -echo of the sound seemed to spur to the quick her wavering resolution. -Time was flying, jostling her thoughts as in a mill race. With the -dawn, the Lord Flavian would die. - -Anon she flung the casement wide and stared out into the night. A calm -breeze moved amid the masses of ivy, and played upon her face. She -bared her breast to its breath, and stood motionless with head thrown -back, her white throat glimmering amid her hair. Below, the sombre -multitudes of the trees showed dim and ghostly, deep with mystery. A -vague wind stirred the branches; the dark void swirled with unrest, -breaking like a midnight sea upon a cliff. A few straggling stars -peeped through the lattice of the sky. - -She leant against the sill, rested her chin upon her palms, and brooded. -Thoughts, fierce, passionate, and clamorous, came crying like gusts of -wind through a ruined house. Death and dead faces, blood, the yawn of -sepulchres, life and the joy of it, all these passed as visions of fire -before her fancy. Vengeance and pity agonised her soul. She answered -yea and nay with the same breath; condemned and pardoned with -contradicting zeal. Youth lifted up its face to her, piteous and -beautiful. Death reached out a rattling hand into her bosom. - -Presently, a far glow began to creep into the sky; a gradual greyness -absorbed the shadows of the night. The day was dawning. From the -forest, the trembling orisons of the birds thrilled like golden light -into the air. Unutterable joy seemed to flood forth from the piping -throats. Even the trees seemed to quiver to the sound. With a rush of -bitter passion, she closed the casement, cast herself upon her bed, and -strove to pray. - -Again came the impotent groping into nothingness. A dense mist seemed -to rise betwixt her soul and the white face of the Madonna. Aspiration -lessened like an afterglow, and dissolved away into a dark void of -doubt. Prayer eluded her; the utterances of her heart died in a -miserable endeavour, and she could not think. - -The spiritual storm wore itself away as the dawn streamed in with a -glimmer of gold. Yeoland lay and stared at the casement, and the figure -of Sebastian rendered radiant by the dawn, the whiteness of his limbs -tongued with dusky rills of blood, where the barbs had smitten into the -flesh. Sombre were the eyes, and shadowy with suffering. A halo of gold -gilded the youthful face. The painted glass about him blazed like a -shower of gems. - -The Sebastian of the casement recalled to her with wizard power the face -of the man whom death claimed at dawn. The thought woke no new passion -in her. The night's vigil had left her reason like a skein of tangled -silk, and with the day she verged towards a wearied apathy. The voice of -pity in her waned to an infrequent whisper that came like the rustling -of leaves on a summer night. She realised that it had dawned an hour or -more; that the man had knelt and fallen to Nord's sword. - -Suddenly the silence was snapped by a far outcry sounding in the bowels -of the cliff. Gruff voices seemed to echo and re-echo like breakers in -a cavern. A horn blared. She heard the thudding of a door, the -shrilling of mail, the clangour of iron steps passing up the gallery. - -Shivering, she raised herself upon her elbow to listen. Were they -bringing her the man's head, grey and blood-dabbled, with closed lids -and mangled neck? She fell back again upon her pillows, pressed her -hands to her face with a great revulsion of pity, for the image had -burnt in upon her brain. - -The clangour of harness drew near, with an iron rhythm as of the march -of destiny. It ceased outside the door. A heavy hand beat upon the -panelling. - -"Who knocks?" - -Her own voice, strained and shrill, startled her like an owl's hoot. -Fulviac's deep bass answered her from the passage. - -"Unbar to me, I must speak with you." - -She started up from the bed in passionless haste, ran to a closet, drew -out a cloak and wrapped it about her shoulders. Her bare feet showed -white under her night-gear as she slid the bolt from its socket, and let -the man in. He was fully armed save for his salade, which he carried in -the hollow of his arm. His red cloak swept his heels. A tower of -steel, there was a clangorous bluster about him that bespoke action. - -The girl had drawn apart, shivering, and gathering her cloak about her, -for in the gloom of the place she had thought for an instant that -Fulviac carried a mangled head. - -"A rider has brought news," he said to her. "John of Brissac's men have -taken Prosper the Preacher, to hang him, as their lord has vowed, over -the gate of Fontenaye. They are on the march home from Gilderoy, ten -lances and a company of arbalestiers. I ride to ambuscado them. Prosper -shall not hang!" - -She stood with her back to the casement, and looked at him with a -restless stare. Her thoughts were with the man whose grey eyes had -pleaded with her through the night. Her fears clamoured like captives -at the gate of a dungeon. - -"What is more, this vagabond of Avalon has been begging twelve hours' -grace to scrape his soul clean for Peter." - -"Ah!" she said, with a sudden stark earnestness. - -"I will give him till sunset----" - -"If I suffer it----" - -"The dog has spirit. I would thrust no man into the dark till he has -struck a bargain with his own particular saints." - -She drew back, sank down into a chair with her hair half hiding her -face. - -"You are right in being merciful," she said very slowly. - -Magic riddle of life; rare roseate rod of love. Was it youth leaping -towards youth, the cry of the lark to the dawn, the crimson flowering of -a woman's pity? The air seemed woven through with gold. A thousand -lutes had sounded in the woods. Voiceless, she sat with flickering -lids, amazed at the alchemy that had wrought ruth out of hate. - -Fulviac had drawn back into the gloom of the gallery. He turned suddenly -upon his heel, and his scabbard smote and rang against the rock. - -"I take all the men I have," he said to her, "even the dotard Jaspar, -for he knows the ways. Gregory and Adrian I leave on guard; they are -tough gentlemen, and loyal. As for the lordling, he is well shackled." - -Yeoland was still cowering in her chair with the mysterious passions of -the moment. - -"You will return?" she asked him. - -"By nightfall, if we prosper; as we shall." - -He moved two paces, stayed again in his stride, and flung a last message -to her from the black throat of the passage. - -"Remember, there is no recantation over this business. The man is my -affair as well as yours. He is a power in the south, and would menace -us. Remember, he must die." - -He turned and left her without more palaver. She heard him go clanging -down the gallery, heard the thunder of a heavy door, the braying of a -horn. A long while she sat motionless, still as stone, her hands lying -idle in her lap. When an hour had passed, the sun smote in, and found -her kneeling at her prayer-desk, her breviary dewed with tears. - - - - - XII - - -Fulviac passed away that morning into the forest, a shaft of red amid -the mournful glooms. Colour and steel streamed after him fantastically. -The great cliff, silent and desolate, basked like a leviathan in the -sun. - -Of the daylight and its crown of gold, the girl Yeoland had no deep joy. -When she had ended her passion over the blazoned pages of her breviary, -and mopped her tears with a corner of her gown, she rose to realism, and -turned her mood to the cheating of the dues of time. - -The hours lagged with enough monotony to degenerate a saint; Yeoland was -very much a woman. The night had left her a legacy of evil. She had -shadows under her eyes, and a constant swirl of thoughts within her -brain that made solitude a torture-house, full of prophetic pain. There -was her lute, and she eschewed it, seeing that her fingers seemed as -ice. As for her embroidery, the stitches wandered haphazard, wrought -grotesque things, or lost all method in a stupor of sloth. She threw -the banner aside in a fume at last, and let her broodings have their -way. - -The forenoon crawled, like a beggar on a dusty high-road in the welt of -August. Time seemed to stand and mock her. Hour by hour, she was -tortured by the vision of steel falling upon a strong young neck, of a -white face lying in a pool of blood, of a dripping carcase and a -sweating sword. Though the vision maddened her, what could her weak -hands do? The man was shackled, and guarded by men with whom she dared -not tamper. Moreover, she remembered the last look in Fulviac's keen -eyes. - -Towards evening she grew rabid with unrest, fled from the cave by the -northern stair, and took sanctuary amid the tall shadows of the forest. -The pine avenues were ever like a church to her, solemn, stately, -sympathetic as night. There was nought to anger, nought to bring -discord, where the croon of the branches soothed like a song. - -It was as she played the nun in this forest cloister, that a strange -thought challenged her consciousness under the trees. It was subtle, -yet full of an incomprehensible bitterness, that made her heart hasten. -Even as she considered it, as a girl gazes at a jewel lying in her palm, -the charm flashed magic fire into her eyes. This victim for the sword -lay shackled to the wall in the great guard-room. She would go and -steal a last glance at him before Fulviac and death returned. - -Stairway, bower, and gallery were behind her. She stood in Fulviac's -parlour, where the lamp burnt dimly, and harness glimmered on the walls. -The door of the room stood ajar. She stole to it, and peered through -the crack left by the clumsy hingeing, into the lights and shadows of -the room beyond. - -At the lower end of a long table the two guards sat dicing, sprawling -greedily over the board, the lust of hazard writ large in their looks. -The dice kept up a continuous patter, punctuated by the intent growls of -the gamesters. By the sloping wall of the cavern, palleted on a pile of -dirty straw, lay the Lord Flavian of Gambrevault, with his hands -shackled to a staple in the rock. He lay stretched on his side, with -his back turned towards the light, so that his face was invisible to the -girl behind the door. - -She watched the man awhile with a curious and dark-eyed earnestness. -There was pathos in the prostrate figure, as though Hezekiah-like the -man had turned to the bare rock and the callous comfort despair could -give. Once she imagined that she saw a jerking of the shoulders, that -hinted at something very womanish. The thought smote new pity into her, -and sent her away from the cranny, trembling. - -Yeoland withdrew into Fulviac's room, and thence into the murk of the -gallery leading to her bower. A sudden sense of impotence had flooded -into her heart; she even yearned for some shock of Fate that might break -the very bonds that bound her to her vengeance, as to a corpse. On the -threshold of her room, a sudden sound brought her to a halt like a hand -thrust out of the dark to clutch her throat. She stood listening, like -a miser for thieves, and heard much. - -A curse came from the guard-room, the crash of an overturned bench, the -tingling kiss of steel. She heard the scream as of one stabbed, a -smothered uproar, an indiscriminate scuffling, then----silence. She -stood a moment in the dark, listening. The silence was heavy and -implacable as the rock above. Fear seized her, a lust to know the -worst. She ran down the gallery into Fulviac's room. The door was -still ajar; she thrust it open and entered the great cavern. - -Her doubts elapsed in an instant. At the long table, a man sat with his -head pillowed on his arms. A red rivulet curled away over the board, -winding amid the drinking horns, isleting the dice in its course. On -the floor lay the second guard, a smudge of crimson oozing from his grey -doublet, his arms rigid, his hands clawing in the death-agony. At the -end of the table stood the Lord Flavian of Gambrevault, free. - -Three cubits of steel had tangled the plot vastly in the passing of a -minute. The climax was like a knot of silk thrust through with a sword. -The two stood motionless a moment, staring at each other across the -length of the table, like a couple of mutes over a grave. The man was -the first to break the silence. - -"Madame," he said, with a certain grand air, and a flippant gesture, -"suffer me to condone with you over the lamentable tricks of Fortune. -But for gross selfishness on my part, I should still be chastening -myself for the unjust balancing of our feud. God wills it, seemingly, -that I should continue to be your debtor." - -Despite her woman's wit, the girl was wholly puzzled how to answer him. -She was wickedly conscious in her heart of a subtle gratitude to Heaven -for the sudden baulking of her malice. The man expected wrath from her, -perhaps an outburst of passion. Taking duplicity to her soul, she stood -forward on the dais and tilted her chin at him with dutiful defiance. - -"Thank my irresolution, messire," she said, "for this reprieve of -fortune." - -He came two steps nearer, as though not unminded to talk with her in -open field. - -"At dawn I might have had you slain," she continued, with some hastening -of her tongue; "I confess to having pitied you a little. You are young, -a mere boy, weak and powerless. I gave you life for a day." - -The man reddened slightly, glanced at the dead men, and screwed his -mouth into a dry smile. - -"Most harmless, as you see, madame," he said. "For your magnanimity, I -thank you. _Deo gratias_, I will be as grateful as I may." - -She stood considering him out of her dark, long-lashed eyes. The man -was good to look upon, ruddy and clean of lip, with eyes that stared -straight to the truth, and a pose of the head that prophesied spirit. -The sunlight of youth played sanguine upon his face; yet there was also -a certain shadow there, as of premature wisdom, born of pain. There -were faint lines about the mouth and eyes. For all its sleek and ruddy -comeliness, it was not the face of a boy. - -"Messire," she said to him at last. - -"Madame." - -"He who lurks over long in the wolf's den may meet the dam at the door." - -He smiled at her, a frank flash of sympathy that was not devoid of -gratitude. - -"Haste would be graceless," he said to her. - -"How so?" she asked him. - -"Ha, Madame Yeoland, have I not watched my arms at night before the high -altar at Avalon? Have I not sworn to serve women, to keep troth, and to -love God? You judge me hardly if you think of me as a butcher and a -murderer. For the death of your kinsfolk I hold myself ashamed." - -There was a fine light upon his face, a power of truth in his voice that -was not hypocritic. The girl stared him over with a certain critical -earnestness that boasted a gleam of approval. - -"Fair words," she said to him; "you did not speak thus to me last eve." - -"Ah!" he cried, beaming on her, "I was cold as a corpse; nor could I -whine, for pride." - -"And your shackles?" - -He laughed and held up both hands; the wrists were chafed and bloody. - -"It was ever a jest against me," he said, "that I had the hands of a -woman, white and meagre, yet strong with the sword. Your fellows thrust -a pair of wristlets on me fit for a Goliath, strong, but bulky. My -hands have proved my salvation. I pulled them through while the guards -diced, crept for a sword, gained it, and my freedom." - -She nodded, and was not markedly dismal, though the wind had veered -against her cause. The man with the grey eyes was a being one could not -quarrel with with easy sincerity. Probably it did not strike her at the -moment that this friendly argument with the man she had plotted to slay -was a contradiction worthy of a woman. - -The Lord of Avalon meanwhile had drawn still nearer to the girl upon the -dais. His grey eyes had taken a warmer lustre into their depths, as -though her beauty had kindled something akin to awe in his heart. He -set the point of the sword on the floor, his hands on the hilt, and -looked up at the white face medallioned in the black splendour of its -hair. - -"Madame," he said very gravely, "it is the way of the world to feel -remorse when such an emotion is expedient, and to fling penitence into -the bottomless pit when the peril is past. I shall prove to you that -mine is no such April penitence. Here, on the cross of my sword, I -swear to you a great oath. First, that I will build a chapel in -Cambremont glade, and establish a priest there. Secondly, I will -rebuild the tower, refit it royally, attach to it cottars and borderers -from mine own lands. Lastly, mass shall be said and tapers burnt for -your kinsfolk in every church in the south. I myself will do such -penance as the Lord Bishop shall ordain for my soul." - -The man was hotly in earnest over the vow--red as a ruby set in the sun. -Yeoland looked down upon him with the glimmer of a smile upon her lips -as he kissed the cross of the sword. - -"You seem honest," she said to him. - -"Madame, on this sword I swear it. It is hard to believe any good of an -enemy. Behold me then before you as a friend. There is a feud betwixt -us, not of my willing. By God's light I am eager to bridge the gulf and -to be at peace." - -She shook her head and looked at him with a sudden mysterious sadness. -Such a pardon was beyond belief, the man's pure ardour, nothing but seed -cast upon sand. Fulviac, a tower of steel, seemed to loom beyond him--an -iron figure of Fate, grim and terrible. - -"This can never be," she said. - -His eyes were honestly sorrowful. - -"Is madame so implacable?" - -"Ah!" she said, "you do not understand me." - -He stood a moment in thought, as though casting about in his heart for -the reason of her sternness. Despite her wrongs, he was assured by some -spirit voice that it was not death that stalked betwixt them like an -angel of doom. As he stood and brooded, a gleam of the truth flashed in -upon his brain. He went some steps back from her, as though destiny -decreed it that they should sever unabsolved. - -"Your pardon, madame," he said to her; "the riddle is plain to me. I no -longer grope into the dark. This man, here, is your husband." - -She went red as a rose blushing on her green throne at the coming of the -dawn. - -"Messire." - -"Your pardon." - -"Ah, I am no wife," she said to him. "God knows but for this man I -should be friendless and without home. He has spread honour and chivalry -before my feet like a snow-white cloak. Even in this, my godless -vengeance, he has served me." - -The man strode suddenly towards the dais, with his face turned up to -hers. A strange light played upon it, half of passion, half of pity. -His voice shook, for all its sanguine strength. - -"Ah, madame, tell me one thing before I go." - -"Messire." - -"Have I your pardon?" - -"If you love life, messire, leave me." - -"Have I your pardon?" - -"Go! ere it is too late." - -Like a ghostly retort to her appeal came the sound of armed men -thundering over the bridge. Their rough voices rose in the night's -silence, smitten through with the clash and clangour of arms. Fulviac -had caught John of Brissac's company in the woods by Gilderoy. There had -been a bloody tussle and much slaughter. Triumphant, they were at the -gate with Prosper the Preacher in their midst. - -The pair in the cavern stared at each other with a mute appeal. - -"Fulviac," said the girl in a whisper. - -"The door!" - -"It is barred." - -They were silent and round-eyed, as children caught in the midst of -mischief. Mailed fists and pike staves were beating upon the gate. A -babel of impatience welled up without. - -"Adrian, Gregory!" - -"Lazy curs!" - -"Unbar, unbar!" - -Mocking silence leered in retort. Yeoland and the Lord of Avalon were -still as mice. The din slackened and waned, as though Fulviac's men -were listening for sound of life within. Then came more blows upon the -gate; fingers fumbled at the closed grill. The man Gregory lay and -stared at the rocky roof; Adrian sat with his face pooled by his own -blood. - -A fiercer voice sounded above the clamour. It was Fulviac's. The girl -shivered as she stood. - -"Ho, there, Gregory, Adrian; what's amiss with ye?" - -Still silence, mocking and implacable. The lull held for the moment; -then the storm gathered. - -"Break down the gate," roared the voice; "by God, we will see the bottom -of this damned silence." - -The Lord Flavian of Avalon had stood listening with the look of a man -cooped in a cavern, who hears the sea surging to his feet. He glanced -at the dead guards, and went white. To save his soul from purgatory it -behoved him to act, and to act quickly. A single lamp still burnt in -the oratory of hope. He went near to the girl on the dais, and held up -the crossed hilt of his sword. - -"By the Holy Cross, mercy!" - -She cast a frightened glance into his eyes, and continued mute a moment. -The thunder grew against the gate, the crash of steel, a rending din -that went echoing into all the pits and passage-ways of the place. -Fulviac's men had dragged the trunk of a fallen pine up the causeway, -and were charging the gate till the timber groaned. - -The man, with his sword held like a crucifix, stood and pleaded with his -eyes. - -"Mercy!" he said; "you know this warren and can save me." - -"Are you a craven?" - -"Craven? before God, no, only desperate. What hope have I unharnessed, -one sword against fifty?" - -For yet another moment she appeared irresolute, dazed by the vision of -Fulviac's powerful wrath. He was a stark man and a terrible, and she -feared him. The timbers of the gate began to crack and gape. Flavian -of Avalon lifted up his voice to her with a passionate outburst of -despair. - -"God, madame, I cannot die. I am young, look at me, life is at its -dawn. By your woman's mercy, hide me. Give me not back to death." - -His bitter agitation smote her to the core. She looked into his eyes; -they were hungry as love, and very piteous. There could be no sinning -against those eyes. Great fear flooded over her like a green billow, -bearing her to the inevitable. In a moment she was as hot to save him -as if he had been her lover. - -"Come," she said, "quick, before the gate gives." - -She led him like the wind through Fulviac's parlour, and down the -gallery to her own bower. It was dark and lampless. She groped to the -postern, fumbled at the latch and conquered it. Night streamed in. She -pushed the man out and pointed to the steps. - -"The forest," she said, "for your life; bear by the stars for the -north." - -A full moon had reared her silver buckler in the sky. The night was -sinless and superb, drowned in a mist of phosphor glory. The man knelt -at her feet a moment, and pressed his lips to the hem of her gown. - -"The Virgin bless you!" - -"Go----" - -"I shall remember." - -He descended and disappeared where the trees swept up with wizard -glimmerings to touch the cliff. When he had fled, Yeoland passed back -into the cavern, and met Fulviac before the splintered gate with a lie -upon her lips. - - - - - PART II - - - - XIII - - -Fra Balthasar rubbed his colours in the chapel of Castle Avalon, and -stared complacently upon the frescoes his fingers had called into being. - -A migratory friar, Fra Balthasar had come from the rich skies, the -purple vineyards, the glimmering orange groves of the far south. Gossip -hinted that a certain romantic indiscretion had driven him northwards -over the sea. A "bend sinister" ran athwart his reputation as a priest. -Men muttered that he was an infidel, a blasphemous vagabond, versed in -all the damnable heresies of antiquity. Be that as it may, Fra -Balthasar had come to Gilderoy on a white mule, with two servants at his -back, an apt tongue to serve him, and much craft as a painter and -goldsmith. He had set up a _bottega_ at Gilderoy, and had cozened the -patronage of the magnates and the merchants. Moreover, he had netted -the favour of the Lord Flavian of Avalon, and was blazoning his chapel -for him with the lavish fancy of a Florentine. - -Fra Balthasar stood in a cataract of sunlight, that poured in through a -painted window in the west. He wore the white habit of Dominic and the -long black mantle. A golden mist played about his figure as he rubbed -his palette, and scanned with the egotism of the artist the _Pieta_ -painted above the Lord Flavian's state stall. That gentleman, in the -flesh, had established himself on a velvet hassock before the altar -steps, thus flattering the friar in the part of a sympathetic patron. -The Lord of Avalon had dedicated his own person to art as an Eastern -King in the splendour of Gothic arms, kneeling bare-headed before the -infant Christ. - -Fra Balthasar was a plump man and a comely, black of eye and full of -lip. His shaven chin shone blue as sleek velvet. He had turned from -the _Pieta_ towards the altar, where a triptych gleamed with massed and -brilliant colour. The Virgin, a palpitating divinity breathing stars -and gems from her full bosom, gazed with a face of sensuous serenity at -the infant lying in her lap. She seemed to exhale an atmosphere of -gold. On either wing, angels, transcendant girls in green and silver, -purple and azure, scarlet and white, made the soul swim with visions of -ruddy lips and milk-white hands. Their wings gleamed like opals. They -looked too frail for angels, too human for heaven. - -The Lord of Avalon sat on his scarlet hassock, and stared at the Madonna -with some measure of awe. She was no attenuated, angular, green-faced -fragment of saintliness, but by every curve a woman, from plump finger -to coral lip. - -"You are no Byzantine," quoth the man on the hassock, with something of -a sigh. - -The priest glanced at him and smiled. There were curves in lip and -nostril that were more than indicative of a sleek and sensuous -worldliness. Fra Balthasar was much of an Antinous, and doted on the -conviction. - -"I paint women, messire," he said. - -His lordship laughed. - -"Divinities?" - -Balthasar flourished his brush. - -"Divine creatures, golden flowers of the world. Give me the rose to -crush against my mouth, violets to burn upon my bosom. Truth, sire, -consider the sparkling roundness of a woman's arm. Consider her -wine-red lips, her sinful eyes, her lily fingers dropping spikenard into -the soul. I confess, sire, that I am a man." - -The friar's opulent extravagance of sentiment suited the litheness of -his look. Balthasar had enthroned himself in his own imagination as a -species of Apollo, a golden-tongued seer, whose soul soared into the -glittering infinitudes of art. An immense egotist, he posed as a -full-blooded divinity, palpitating to colour and to sound. He had as -many moods as a vain woman, and was a mere fire-fly in the matter of -honour. - -"Reverend sire," quoth the man on the footstool with some tightening of -the upper lip, "you bulk too big for your frock, methinks." - -Balthasar touched a panel with his brush; cast a glance over his -shoulder, with a cynical lifting of the nostril. - -"My frock serves me, sire, as well as a coat of mail." - -"And you believe the things you paint?" - -The man swept a vermilion streak from his brush. - -"An ingenuous question, messire." - -"I am ever ingenuous." - -"A perilous habit." - -"Yet you have not answered me." - -The friar tilted his chin like a woman eyeing herself in a mirror. - -"Religion is full of picturesque incidents," he said. - -"And is profitable." - -"Sire, you shame Solomon. There are ever many rich and devout fools in -the world. Give me a gleaming Venus, rising ruddy from the sea, rather -than a lachrymose Magdalene. But what would you? I trim my Venus up in -fine apparel, put a puling infant in her lap. _Ecce--Sancta Maria_." - -The man on the footstool smiled despite the jester's theme, a smile that -had more scorn in it than sympathy. - -"You verge on blasphemy," he said. - -"There can be no blasphemy where there is no belief." - -"You are over subtle, my friend." - -"Nay, sire, I have come by that godliness of mind when man discovers his -own godhead. Let your soul soar, I say, let it beat its wings into the -blue of life. Hence with superstition. Shall I subordinate my mind to -the prosings of a mad charlatan such as Saul of Tarsus? Shall I, like -each rat in this mortal drain, believe that some god cares when I have -gout in my toe, or when I am tempted to bow to Venus?" - -The man on the hassock grimaced, and eyed the friar much as though he -had stumbled on some being from the underworld. He was a mystic for all -his manhood. - -"God pity your creed," he said. - -"God, the inflated mortal----" - -"Enough." - -"This man god of yours who tosses the stars like so many lemons." - -"Enough, sir friar." - -"Defend me from your mass of metaphor, your relics of barbarism. We, -the wise ones, have our own hierarchy, our own Olympus." - -"On my soul, you are welcome to it," quoth the man by the altar. - -Balthasar's hand worked viciously; he was strenuous towards his own -beliefs, after the fashion of dreamers delirious with egotism. The very -splendour of his infidelity took its birth from the fact that it was -largely of his own creating. His pert iconoclasm pandered to his own -vast self-esteem. - -"Tell me for what you live," said the man by the altar. - -"For beauty." - -"And the senses?" - -"Colours, odours, sounds. To breathe, to burn, and to enjoy. To be a -Greek and a god." - -"And life?" - -"Is a great fresco, a pageant of passions." - -The Lord of Avalon sprang up and began to pace the aisle with the air of -a man whose blood is fevered. For all his devoutness and his mystical -fidelity, he was in too human and passionate a mood to be invulnerable -to Balthasar's sensuous shafts of fire. The Lord Flavian had come by a -transcendental star-soaring spirit, an inspiration that had torched the -wild beacon of romance. He was red for a riot of chivalry, a passage of -desire. - -Turning back towards the altar, he faced the Madonna with her choir of -angel girls. Fra Balthasar was watching him with a feline sleekness of -visage, and a smile that boasted something of contempt. The friar -considered spirituality a species of magician's lanthorn for the -cozening of fools. - -"What quip have you for love?" said the younger man, halting by the -altar rails. - -Balthasar stood with poised brush. - -"There is some sincerity in the emotion," he said. - -"You are experienced?" - -"Sire, consider my 'habit.'" - -The friar's mock horror was surprising, an excellent jest that fell like -a blunted bolt from the steel of a vigorous manhood. The Lord Flavian -ran on. - -"Shall I fence with an infidel?" he asked. - -"Sire, a man may be a man without the creed of Athanasius." - -"How much of me do you understand?" - -Fra Balthasar cleared his throat. - -"The Lady Duessa, sire, is a rose of joy." - -"Monk!" - -"My lord, it was your dictum that you are ever ingenuous. I echo you." - -"Need I confess to you on such a subject?" - -"Nay, sire, you have the inconsistency of a poet." - -"How so?" - -"Well, well, one can sniff rotten apples without opening the door of the -cupboard." - -The younger man jerked away, and went striding betwixt the array of -frescoes with something of the wild vigour of a blind Polyphemus. -Balthasar, subtle sophist, watched him from the angle of his eye with -the sardonic superiority of one well versed in the contradictions of the -world. He had scribbled a shrewd sketch of the passions stirring in his -patron's heart. Had he not heard from the man's own lips of the -white-faced elf of the pine woods and her vengeance? And the Lady -Duessa! Fra Balthasar was as wise in the gossip of Gilderoy as any -woman. - -"Sire," he said, as the aristocrat turned in his stride, "I ask of you a -bold favour." - -"Speak out." - -"Suffer me to paint your mood in words." - -The man stared, shrugged his shoulders, smiled enigmatically. - -"Try your craft," he said. - -Balthasar began splashing in a foreground with irritable bravado. - -"My lord, you were a fool at twenty," were his words. - -"A thrice damned fool," came the echo. - -Balthasar chuckled. - -"And now, messire, a golden chain makes a Tantalus of you. Life crawls -like a sluggish river. You chafe, you strain, you rebel, feed on your -own heart, sin to assert your liberty. Youth slips from you; the sky -narrows about your ears. Well, well, have I not read aright?" - -"Speak on," quoth the man by the altar. - -"Ah, sire, it is the old tale. They have cramped up your youth with -book and ring; shut you up in a moral sarcophagus with a woman they call -your wife. You burn for liberty, and the unknown that shines like a -purple streak in a fading west. Ah, sire, you look for that one -marvellous being, who shall torch again the youth in your heart, make -your blood burn, your soul to sing. That one woman in the world, -mysterious as the moon, subtle as the night, ineffably strange as a -flaming dawn. That woman who shall lift you to the stars; whose lips -suck the sap of the world; whose bosom breathes to the eternal swoon of -all sweet sounds. She shall light the lust of battle in your heart. -For her your sword shall leap, your towers totter. Chivalry should lead -you like a pillar of fire out of the night, a heroic god striving for a -goddess." - -The Lord of Avalon stood before the high altar as one transfigured. -Youth leapt in him, red, glorious, and triumphant. Balthasar's tongue -had set the pyre aburning. - -"By God, it is the truth," he said. - -The friar gathered his brushes, and took breath. - -"Hast thou found thy Beatrice, O my son?" - -"Have I gazed into heaven?" - -Balthasar's voice filled the chapel. - -"Live, sire, live!" he said. - -"Ah!" - -"Be mad! Drink star wine, and snuff the odours of all the sunsets! -Live, live! You can repent in comfort when you are sixty and measure -fifty inches round the waist." - - - - - XIV - - -Dame Duessa had come to Avalon, having heard certain whisperings of -Gilderoy, and of a golden-haired Astarte who kept house there. Dame -Duessa was a proud woman and a passionate, headstrong as a reformer, -jealous as a parish priest. She boasted a great ancestry and a great -name, and desires and convictions in keeping. She was a woman who loved -her robe cupboard, her jewel-case, and her bed. Moreover, she pretended -some affection for the Lord Flavian her husband, perhaps arrogance of -ownership, seeing that Dame Duessa was very determined to keep him in -bonded compact with herself. She suspected that the man did not -consider her a saint, or worship her as such. Yet, termagant that she -was, Dame Duessa could suffer some trampling of empty sentiment, -provided Fate did not rob her of her share in the broad demesne and -rent-roll of Gambrevault. - -Avalon was a castle of ten towers, linked by a strong curtain wall, and -built about a large central court and garden. A great moat circled the -whole, a moat broad and silvery as a lake, with water-lilies growing -thick in the shallows. Beyond the moat, sleek meadows tufted with green -rushes swept to the gnarled piers of the old oaks that vanguarded the -forest. The black towers slumbered in a mist of green, girded with -sheeny water, tented by the azure of a southern sky. - -Dame Duessa, being a lady of silks and tissues, did not love the place -with all her soul. Avalon of the Orchards was dull, and smacked of -Arcady; it was far removed from that island of fair sin, Lauretia, the -King's city. Moreover, the Lord Flavian and his ungallant gentlemen -held rigorously to the northern turrets, leaving her to lodge -ascetically in her rich chamber in a southern tower. - -Her husband contrived to exile himself as far as Castle Avalon could -suffer him. If the pair went to mass, they went separately, with the -frigid hauteur of an Athanasius handing an Aryus over to hell. When -they hunted they rode towards opposite stars. No children had chastened -them, pledges of heaven-given life. The Lady Duessa detested ought that -hinted at caudle, swaddling-clothes, and cradles. Moreover, all Avalon -seemed in league with the Lord Flavian. Knights, esquires, scullions, -horse-boys swore by him as though he were a Bayard. Dame Duessa could -rely solely on a prig of a page, and a lady-in-waiting who wore a wig, -and perhaps on Fra Balthasar, the Dominican. - -Meanwhile, the Lord of Avalon had been putting forth his penitence in -stone and timber, and an army of craftsmen from Geraint. The glade in -Cambremont wood rang to the swing of axes and the hoarse groaning of the -saw. The tower had been purged of its ashes, its rooms retimbered, its -casements filled with glass. A chapel was springing into life under the -trees; the cleverest masons of the south were at work upon its pillars -and its arches. Fra Balthasar, the Dominican, held sway over the whole, -subtle in colour and the carving of stone. Flavian could have found no -better pander to his penitence. Rose nobles had been squandered. -Frescoes, jewel bright, were to blaze out upon the walls. The vaulted -roof was to be constellated with glimmering gold stars, shining from -skies of purple and azure. - -To turn to Fulviac's great cliff hid in the dark depths of the forest of -pines. The disloyal chaff of the kingdom was wafted thither day by day, -borne on the conspiring breeze. The forest engulfed all comers and -delivered them like ghosts into Fulviac's caverns. An army might have -melted into the wilds, and the countryside have been none the wiser. -Amid the pines and rocks of the cliffs there were marchings and -countermarchings, much shouldering of pikes and ordering of companies. -Veterans who had fought the infidels under Wenceslaus, drilled the raw -levies, and inculcated with hoarse bellowings the rudiments of military -reason. They were rough gentlemen, and Fulviac stroked them with a -gauntlet of iron. They were to attempt liberty together, and he -demonstrated to them that such freedom could be won solely by discipline -and soldierly concord. The rogues grumbled and swore behind his back, -but were glad in their hearts to have a man for master. - -To speak again of the girl Yeoland. That March night she had met -Fulviac over the wreckage of the broken gate, and had made a profession -of the truth, so far, she said, as she could conjecture it. She had -been long in the forest, had returned to the cliff to find the guards -slain, and the Lord Flavian gone. By some device he had escaped from -his shackles, slain the men, and fled by the northern postern. The -woman made a goodly pretence of vexation of spirit over the escape of -this reprobate. She even taunted Fulviac with foolhardiness, and lack -of foresight in so bungling her vengeance. - -The man's escape from the cliff roused Fulviac's energies to full flood. -The aristocrat of Avalon was ignorant of the volcano bubbling under his -feet, yet any retaliatory meddling on his part might prove disastrous at -so critical an hour. Fulviac thrust forward the wheels of war with a -heavy hand. The torrents of sedition and discontent were converging to -a river of revolt, that threatened to crush tyranny as an avalanche -crushes a forest. - -The Virgin with her moon-white face still inspired Yeoland with the -visionary behest given in the ruined chapel. The girl's fingers toiled -at the scarlet banner; she spent half her days upon her knees, devout as -any Helena. She knew Fulviac's schemes as surely as she did the beads -on her rosary. The rough rangers of the forest held her to be a saint, -and knelt to touch her dress as she passed by. - -Yet what are dreams but snowflakes drifting from the heavens, now white, -now red, as God or man carries the lamp of love? The girl's ecstasy of -faith was but a potion to her, dazing her from a yet more subtle dream. -A faint voice summoned her from the unknown. She would hear it often in -the silence of the night, or at full noon as she faltered in her -prayers. The rosary would hang idle on her wrist, the crucifix melt -from her vision. She would find her heart glowing like a rose at the -touch of the sun. Anon, frightened, she would shake the human half of -herself, and run back penitent to her prayers. - -It was springtide and the year's youth, when memories are garlanded with -green, and romance scatters wind-flowers over the world. Many voices -awoke, like the chanting of birds, in Yeoland's heart. She desired, -even as a swallow, to see the old haunts again, to go a pilgrim to the -place where the dear dead slept. Was it yearning grief, or a joy more -subtle, the cry of the wild and the voice of desire? Mayhap white -flowers shone on the tree of life, prophetic of fruit in the mellow -year. Jaspar the harper heard her plea; 'twas wilful and eager, but -what of that! Fulviac, good man, had ridden to Gilderoy. The girl had -liberty enough and to spare. She took it and Jaspar, and rode out from -the cliff. - -Threading the sables of the woods, they came one noon to the open moor. -It was golden with the western sun, solitary as the sea. The shadows -were long upon the sward when Cambremont wood billowed out in its -valley. There was no hope of their reaching the tower before dusk, so -they piled dead bracken under a cedar, where the shelving eaves swept to -the ground. - -They were astir early upon the morrow, a sun-chastened wind inspiring -the woodlands, and sculpturing grand friezes from the marbles of the -sky. The forest was full of the glory of Spring, starred with anemones -and dusted with the azure campaniles of the hyacinth horde. Primroses -lurked on the lush green slopes. In the glades, the forest peristyles, -green gorse blazed with its constellations of gold. - -To the dolt and the hag the world is nothing but a fat larder; only the -unregenerate are blind of soul. Beauty, Diana-like, shows not her naked -loveliness to all. The girl Yeoland's eyes were full of a strange -lustre that May morning. Many familiar landmarks did she pass upon the -way, notched deep on the cross of memory. There stood the great beech -tree where Bertrand had carved his name, and the smooth bark still bore -the scars where the knife had wantoned. She forded the stream where -Roland's pony had once pitched him into the mire. Her eyes grew dim as -she rode through the sun-steeped woods. - -The day had drawn towards noon when they neared the glade in the midst -of Cambremont wood. Heavy wain wheels had scarred the smooth green of -the ride, and the newly-sawn pedestals of fallen oaks showed where -woodmen had been felling timber. To Jaspar the harper these signs were -more eloquent of peril than of peace. He began to snuff the air like an -old hound, and to jerk restless glances at the girl at his side. - -"See where wheels have been," he began. - -"And axes, my friend." - -"What means it?" - -"Some one rebuilds the tower." - -The harper wagged his head and half turned his horse from the grass -ride. - -"Have a care," he said. - -"Hide in the woods if you will." - -She rode on with a triumphant wilfulness and he followed her. - -As they neared the glade, the noise of axe and hammer floated on the -wind, and they saw the scene flicker towards them betwixt the great -boles of the trees. The tower stood with battlements of fresh white -stone; its windows had been reset, the blasting touch of fire effaced -from the walls. The glade was strewn with blocks of stone and lengths -of timber; the walls of a chapel were rising from the grass. Men were -digging trenches for the foundations of the priest's cell. Soldiers -idled about gossiping with the masons. - -There was a smile in the girl's eyes and a deeper tint upon her cheeks -as she stared betwixt the trees at the regarnished tower. Those grey -eyes had promised the truth in Fulviac's cavern. She was glad in her -heart of the man's honour, glad with a magic that made her colour. As -for the harper, he stroked his grey beard and was mute. He lacked -imagination, and was no longer young. - -On a stump of an oak tree at the edge of the wood sat a man in a black -mantle and a habit of white cloth. He had a panel upon his knee, and a -small wooden chest beside him on the grass. His eyes were turned often -to the rolling woods, as his plump hand flourished a brush with nervous -and graceful gestures. - -Seeing the man's tonsure, and his dress that marked him a Dominican, -Yeoland rode out from the trees, casting her horse's shadow athwart his -work. The man looked up with puckered brow, his keen eye framing the -girl's figure at a glance. It was his destiny to see the romantic and -the beautiful in all things. - -The priest and the girl on the horse eyed each other a moment in -silence. Each was instinctively examining the other. The churchman, -with an approving glint of the eye, was the first to break the woodland -silence. - -"Peace be with you, madame." - -His tone hinted at a question, and the girl adopted therewith an -ingenuous duplicity. - -"My man and I were of a hunting party," she said; "we went astray in the -wood. You, Father, will guide us?" - -"Madame has not discovered to me her desire." - -"We wish for Gilderoy." - -Balthasar rose and pointed with his brush towards the ride by which they -had come. He mapped the road for them with sundry jaunty flourishes, -and much showing of his white teeth. Yeoland thanked him, but was still -curious. - -"Ah, Father, whither have we wandered?" - -"Men call it Cambremont wood, madame." - -"And these buildings? A retreat, doubtless, for holy men." - -Balthasar corrected her with much unction. - -"The Lord Flavian of Avalon builds here," he said, "but not for monks. -I, madame, am his architect, his pedagogue in painting." - -Yeoland pretended interest. She craned forward over her horse's neck -and looked at the priest's panel. The act decided him. Since she was -young and comely, Balthasar seized the chance of a chivalrous service. -The girl had fine eyes, and a neck worthy of a Venus. - -"Madame has taste. She would see our work?" - -Madame appeared very ready to grant the favour. Balthasar put his -brushes aside, held the girl's stirrup, and, unconscious of the irony of -the act, expatiated to Yeoland on the beauties of her own home. At the -end of their pilgrimage, being not a little bewitched by such eyes and -such a face, he begged of her the liberty of painting her there and -then. 'Twas for the enriching of religious art, as he very properly put -it. - -Dead Rual's grave was not ten paces distant, and Jaspar was standing by -it as in prayer. Thus, Yeoland sat to Fra Balthasar, oblivious of him -indeed as his fingers brought her fair face into being, her shapely -throat and raven hair. His picture perfected, he blessed her with the -unction of a bishop, and stood watching her as she vanished down the -southern ride, graceful and immaculate as a young Dian. - - - - - XV - - -Hardly had an hour passed, and Fra Balthasar was still touching the -study he had made of Yeoland's face, when a company of spears flashed -out by the northern ride into the clearing. At their head rode a knight -in harness of burnished steel, a splendid figure flashing chivalry in -the eyes of the sun. On his shield he bore "a castle, argent, with -ports voided of the field, on a field vert," the arms of the house of -Gambrevault. His surcoat was diapered azure and green with three gold -suns blazoned thereon. His baldric, a splendid streak of scarlet silk, -slashed his surcoat as with blood. His troop, men in half armour, rode -under the Pavon Vert of the demesne of Avalon. - -They thundered into the open stretch of grass with a clangorous rattle -of steel. Flavian, bare-headed, for his salade hung at his saddle-bow -and he wore no camail, scanned the glade with a keen stare. Seeing Fra -Balthasar seated under a tree, he turned his horse towards him, and -smiled as the churchman put his tools aside and gave him a benediction. -The man made a fine figure; judged by the flesh, Balthasar might have -stood for an Ambrose or a Leo. - -"Herald of heaven, how goes the work?" - -"Sire, we emulate Pericles." - -"What have you there, a woman's head, some rare Madonna?" - -Balthasar showed his white teeth. - -"A pretty pastoral, messire. The study of a lady who had lost her way -hunting, and craved my guidance this morning. A woman with the face and -figure of a Dian." - -"Ha, rogue of the brush, let us see it." - -Balthasar passed the parchment into the other's hand. Flavian stared at -it, flushed to the temples, rapped out an ejaculation in ecclesiastic -Latin. His eyes devoured the sketch with the insatiable enthusiasm of a -lover; words came hot off his tongue. - -"Quick, man, quick, is this true to life?" - -"As ruby to ruby." - -"None of your idealisations?" - -"Messire, but an hour ago that girl was sitting her horse where your -destrier now stands." - -"And you sketched this at her desire?" - -"At my own, sire; it was courtesy for courtesy: I had shown her our -handiwork here." - -"You showed her this tower and chapel?" - -"Certainly, sire." - -"She seemed sad?" - -"Nay, merry." - -"This is romance!" He lifted the little picture at arm's length to the -sun, kissed it, and put it in his bosom. His face was radiant; he -laughed as though some golden joy rang and resounded in his heart. - -"A hundred golden angels for this face!" - -Fra Balthasar was in great measure mystified. The Lord of Avalon seemed -an inflammable gentleman. - -"Messire, you are ever generous." - -"Man, man, you have caught the one woman in the world." - -"Sire----" - -"The Madonna of the Pine Forest, the Madonna of Mercy; she whose -kinsfolk were put to the sword by my men; even the daughter of Rual -whose tower stands yonder." - -The priest comprehended the whole in a moment. The dramatic quaintness -of the adventure had made him echo Flavian's humour. He laughed and -shrugged his shoulders. - -"Romance, romance! By all the lovers who ever loved, by Tristan and the -dark Iseult, by Launcelot and Guinivere, follow that picture." - -"Which way went she?" - -"By the southern ride, towards Gilderoy." - -The man was in heroic humour; his sword flashed out and shook in the -sun. - -"By God, I'll see her face again, and yet again, though I burn in hell -for it. Roland, Godamar, come, men, come, throw away your spears. -Ride, ride, we chase the sunset. Life and desire!" - -He sprang away on his great bay horse, a shimmering shaft of -youth--youth that flashed forth chivalry into the burgeoning green of -Spring. The sunlight webbed his hair with gold; his face glowed like a -martyr's. Balthasar watched him with much poetic zest, as he swept away -with his thundering knights into the woods. - -The friar settled to his work again, but it was fated that he was to -have no lasting peace that morning. He was painting in a background, a -landscape, to a small Crucifixion. His hand was out of touch, however; -the subject was not congenial. A pale face and a pair of dusky eyes had -deepened a different stream of thought in the man. Themes hypersensuous -held his allegiance; from prim catholic ethics, he reverted to his -glorious paganism with an ever-broadening sense of satisfaction. - -He was interrupted once more, and not unpleasantly, by a lady, with two -armed servants at her back, riding in from the forest by the northern -ride. The woman was clad in a cloak of damask red, and a jupon of dark -green, broidered with azure scroll work. Her hood, fallen back, showed -her purple black hair bound up in a net of gold. Her large dark eyes -flashed and smouldered under their long lashes. She had high -cheek-bones, a big nose, lips full as an over-ripe rose. She was big of -body, voluptuous to look upon, as an Eastern odalisque, a woman of great -passions, great appetites. - -Fra Balthasar tumbled his brushes and paints aside, and went to meet her -as she rode over the grass. There was a smile on the man's lips, a -flush upon his sleek face, as he walked with a courtly and debonair -vanity. The woman caught sight of him and wheeled her horse in his -direction. The autumn splendour of her cheeks told of hard riding, and -her horse dropped foam from his black muzzle. - -Fra Balthasar crossed himself with much meekness. - -"Good greeting, Madame Duessa," were his words, as he kept his eyes on -the ground. - -The woman scanned the glade with the strenuous spirit of a Boadicea. - -"My Lord Flavian?" - -"Madame?" - -"He has been here." - -"But is here no longer." - -"These buildings?" - -"Are the Lord Flavian's." - -"And you?" - -"I am his architect." - -"Morally, messire monk?" - -"Madame, I do not edificate souls." - -The woman stared him over with a critical comprehensiveness. - -"Balthasar." - -The man half glanced at her. - -"Look me in the face." - -He gave a sigh, made a gesture with his hands, looked melancholy and -over-ecstasied to the point of despair. - -"Madame, there are thoughts beyond one's liberty." - -"Well?" - -"There are women, a woman, one dares not look upon. There are eyes, -well--well, that are too bright. Pardon me, I would serve you." - -She took a deep breath, held out her hand to him, a big, warm hand, soft -and white. The man's lips burnt upon it. She touched his cheek and saw -him colour. - -"Well?" - -"My Lord Flavian is not here." - -"But has been. Where now?" - -"Away hunting." - -"Ha, what?" - -"Madame, what do men hunt and burn for?" - -"Sometimes a stag, a hare, a standard, a woman." - -"Sometimes--a woman." - -Balthasar, looking slantwise under half-closed lids, saw her eyes flash -and her lips tighten. - -"Which way?" - -"The southern ride, towards Gilderoy." - -Duessa shook her bridle, and threw one look into Balthasar's eyes. - -"Remember," she said, "remember, a woman loves a friend, a true friend, -who can tell a lie, or keep a secret." - -Balthasar watched her ride away. He stood and smiled to himself, while -his long fingers played with the folds of his mantle. Red wine was -bounding in his blood, and his imagination revelled. He was a poetic -person, and a poet's soul is often like tinder, safe enough till the -spark falls. - -"_Gloria_," he said to himself with a smirk, "here's hunting with a -vengeance. Two women and a man! The devil is loose. Soul of Masaccio, -that woman has fine eyes." - -That day, when the sky was growing red over the woods, Flavian and his -troop drew close on the heels of Yeoland and the harper. The man, for -all his heat, had kept his horse-flesh well in hand. Once out of -Cambremont wood, they had met a charcoal-burner, who had seen Yeoland -and her follower pass towards the west. They had hunted fast over fell -and moor. While not two miles behind came Duessa of the Black Hair, -biting her lips and giving her brute lash and spur with a woman's -viciousness. - -Yeoland, halting on a slope above the pine woods, looked back and saw -something that made her crane her neck and wax vigilant. Out of the -wine-red east and the twilight gloom came the lightning of harness, the -galloping gleam of armed men. Jaspar's blear eyes were unequal to the -girl's. The men below were riding hard, half under the lea of the -midnight pines, whose tops touched the sunset. A half-moon of steel, -their crescent closed wood and moor. They had the lead in the west; -they were mounting the slope behind. - -Jaspar saw them at last. He was for galloping. Yeoland held him in. - -"Fool, we are caught. Sit still. We shall gain nothing by bolting." - -A knight was coming up the slope at a canter. Yeoland saw his shield, -read it and his name. She went red under her hood, felt her heart -beating, wondered at its noise. - -Youth, aglitter in arms, splendid, triumphant! A face bare to the west, -eyes radiant and tender, a great horse reined in on its haunches, a -mailed hand that made the sign of the cross! - -"Madame, your pardon." - -He drew Balthasar's picture from his bosom and held it before her eyes. - -"My torch," he said, "that led me to see your face again." - -The girl was silent. Her head was thrown back, her slim throat showing, -her face turned heavenwards like the face of a woman who is kissed upon -the lips. - -"You have seen your home?" - -"Yes, messire." - -"God pardon me your sorrow. You see I am no hypocrite. I keep my -vows." - -"Yes, messire." - -"Madame, let me be forgiven; you have trusted one man, trust another." - -She turned her horse suddenly and began to ride towards the black maw of -the forest. Her lips were tightly closed, and she looked neither to the -right nor the left. Flavian, a tower of steel, was at her side. Armed -men ranged in a circle about them. They opened ranks at a sign from -their lord, and gave the woman passage. - -"Madame----" - -"Messire----" - -"Am I to be forgiven?" - -She was mute a moment, as in thought. Then she spoke quietly enough. - -"Yes, for a vow." - -"Tell it me." - -"If you will never see my face again." - -He looked at her with a great smile, drew his sword, and held the point -towards her. - -"Then give me hate." - -"Messire!" - -"Hate, not forgiveness, hate, utter and divine, that I may fight and -travail, labour and despair." - -"Messire!" - -"Hate me, hate me, with all the unreason of your heart. Hate me a -hundred times, that I may but leap a hundred times into your life. Bar -me out that I may storm your battlements again and again." - -"Are you a fool?" - -"A glorious, mad, inspired fool." - -They were quite near the trees. Their black masses threw a great shadow -over the pair. Higher still the sky burnt. - -"Madame, whither do you go?" - -"Where you may not venture, messire." - -"God, I know no such region." - -She flashed round on him with sudden bitterness. - -"Go back to your wife. Go back to your wife, messire; remember her -honour." - -It was a home-thrust, but it did not shame or weaken him. He sheathed -his sword, and looked at her sadly out of his grey eyes. - -"What a world is this," he said, "when heaven comes at last, hell yawns -across the path. When summer burns, winter lifts its head. Even as a -man would grow strong and pure, his own cursed shackles cumber him. -To-night I say no more to you. Go, madame, pray for me. You shall see -my face again." - -He let life vanish under the pines, and rode back with the sunset on his -armour, his face staring into the rising night. His men came round him, -silent statues of steel. He rode slowly, and met his wife. - -Her eyes were turbulent, her lips red streaks of scorn. - -"Ha, sire, I have found you." - -"Madame, I trust you are well?" - -They looked at each other askance like angry dogs, as they rode side by -side, and the night came down. The men left them to themselves, and went -on ahead. A wind grew gusty over the moor. - -[Illustration: "THEY LOOKED AT EACH OTHER ASKANCE LIKE ANGRY DOGS."] - -"Messire, I have borne enough from you." - -"Madame, is it fault of mine?" - -His whole soul revolted from her with an immensity of hate. She -cumbered, clogged, crushed him. Mad brutality leapt in his heart -towards her. He could have smitten the woman through with his sword. - -"Five years ago----" she said. - -"You did the wooing. Damnation, we have been marvellously happy." - -She bit her lip and was white as the moon. - -"Have a care, messire, have a care." - -"Threats, threats." - -"Have a care----" - -"Look at my shield. Have I quartered your arms with mine? God's blood, -there is nothing to erase." - -"Ha!" - -"We have no children." - -"Go on." - -"I shall send gold and an embassage to the Pope." - -She clenched her hands and could not speak for the moment. - -"You dare do this?" - -"I dare ten thousand greater things than this." - -"By God, messire." - -"By God, woman, am I going down to hell because you are my wife!" - -She grew quiet very suddenly, a dangerous move in a woman. - -"Very well," she said, "try it, dear lord. I am no fool. Try it, I am -as strong as you." - -And so they rode on towards Avalon together. - - - - - XVI - - -It is impossible for two persons of marked individuality to be much -together without becoming more or less faceted one towards the other. -We appeal by sympathy, and inspire by contrast. What greater glory -falls to a man's lot than to be chastened by the warm May of some girl's -pure heart! Yeoland had felt the force of Fulviac's manhood; the more -eternal and holier instincts were being stirred in him by a woman's -face. - -The man's life had been a transmigration. In his younger days the world -had banqueted him; new poignancies had bubbled against his lips in the -cup of pleasure. Later had come that inevitable weariness, that distaste -of pomp, the mood that discovers vanity in all things. Finally he had -set his heart upon a woman, a broken reed indeed, and had discovered her -a hypocrite, according to the measure of her passions. There had been -one brief burst of blasphemy. He had used his dagger and had -disappeared. There had been much stir at the time. A ruby had fallen -from the King's crown. Some spoke of Palestine, others of a monastery, -others of a cubit of keen steel. - -Fulviac had begun life over again. He had fallen back upon elemental -interests--had gone hungry, fought for his supper, slept many a storm -out under a tree. The breath of the wilderness had winnowed out luxury; -rain had scourged him into philosophic hardihood. He had learnt in -measure that nothing pleases and endures like simplicity. Even his -ambition was simple in its audacious grandeur. - -Now the eyes of the daughter of Rual were like the eyes of a Madonna, -and she stood in a circle of white lilies like the spirit of purity. -Fulviac had begun to believe in her a little, to love her a little. She -stood above all other women he had known. The ladies of the court were -superb and comely, and marvellously kind, but they loved colour and -contemned the robe of white. They were like a rich posy for a man to -choose from, scarlet and gold, azure, damask or purple. You could love -their bodies, but you could not trust their souls. - -As for the girl Yeoland, she was very devout, very enthusiastic, but no -Agnes. Her rosary had little rest, and with the suspicions of one not -utterly sure of herself, she had striven to make religion and its -results satisfy her soul. In some measure she had succeeded. Yet there -is ever that psychic echo, that one mysterious being, subtle as the -stars, that may come before Christ in the heart. Transcendent spirit of -idolatry! And yet it is often heaven-sent, seeing that it leads many a -soul to God. - -It had become Yeoland's custom to walk daily in the pine wood at the -foot of the stairway leading from the northern room. She had discovered -a quaint nook, a mile or more from the cliff, a nook where trees stood -gathered in a dense circle about a grassy mound capped by a square of -mouldering stone. It was a grave, nameless and without legend. Perhaps -a hermit had crumbled away there under the sods, or the bones of some -old warrior slept within rusty harness. None knew, none cared greatly. -Fulviac's men had hinted at treasure, yet even they were kept from -desecrating the place by a crude and superstitious veneration for the -dead. - -She had wandered here one day and had settled herself on the grassy -slope of the grave. The ribbon of her lute lay over her shoulder. A -breeze sang fitfully through the branches, and a golden haze shimmered -down as from the clerestory windows of a cathedral. Her lute seemed sad -when it made answer to her fingers. Thought was plaintive and not -devotional, if one might judge by the mood of the music, and the notes -were wayward and pathetically void of discipline. - -It was while the girl thrummed idly at the strings that a vague sound -floated down to her with the momentary emphasis born of a fickle wind. -It was foreign to the forest, or it would not have roused her as it did. -As she listened the sound came again from the west. It was neither the -distant bay of a hound nor a horn's solitary note. There was something -metallic about it, something musical. When it disappeared, she listened -for its recurrence; when she heard it again, she puzzled over its -nature. - -The sound grew clearer at gradual intervals, and then ceased utterly. -The girl listened for a long while to no purpose, and then prepared to -forget the incident. The decision was premature. She was startled anon -by the sound breaking out at no great distance. There was no doubt as -to its nature: it was the clanging of a bell. - -Yeoland wondered who could be carrying such a thing in such a place. -Possibly some of Fulviac's men were coming home with stolen cattle, and -an old bell-wether from some wild moorland with them. - -The sound of the bell came very near; it seemed close amid the circling -ranks of pines. Twigs were cracking too, and she heard the beat of -approaching footsteps. Then her glance caught something visible, a -streak of white in the shadows, moving like a ghost. The thing went amid -the trees with the bell mute. The girl's doubts were soon set at rest -as to whether she had been seen or no. The figure in grey slipped -between the pines, and came out into the grass circle about the grave, -cowled, masked, bell at girdle, a leper. - -The girl stared at it with a cold flutter at her heart. The thing stood -under the boughs motionless as stone. The bell gave never a tinkle; a -white chin poked forward from under the hood; the masked face was in -shadow. Then the bell jangled, and a gruff voice came from the cowl. - -"Unclean, unclean!" it said; "avoid the white death, and give alms." - -Yeoland obeyed readily enough, put a portion of the grave betwixt -herself and the leper, fumbled in her pouch and threw the man a piece of -silver. He came forward suddenly into the light, fell on his knees, put -his hood back, plucked off the mask. - -It was the face of the Lord Flavian of Gambrevault. - -The girl stood and stared at him with unstinted astonishment. - -"You," she said, "you?" - -"Madame, I said that you should see my face again." - -She conceived a sudden impetuous desire to turn and leave him on his -knees, but some inner potency of instinct restrained her. She looked -down at the man, with no kindling kindness upon her face. She did not -know what to say to him, how to tune her mood. The first thought that -rushed into her mind was seized upon and pressed into service, -discretion or no discretion. - -"Madman, they will kill you if they find you here." - -"No woman ever loved a coward." - -"For Heaven's sake, go away." - -He rose from his knees and lifted up his frock. The girl saw harness -and a sword beneath it. This young leopard of the southern shores had -fettle enough, and spirit. He was a mixture of imperturbable -determination and sanguine Quixotism, as he faced her under the trees. - -"This dress is privileged; my bell warns folk away; who would fall foul -of a miserable leper? If this frock fails me, I have my sword." - -She looked at him with the solemnity of a child, hand folded in hand. - -"I cannot understand you," she said. - -"Not yet." - -"Are you the man whose life I saved? That breath of death on your brow, -messire, should have made you thoughtful of your soul." - -"Let me plead a moment." - -"For what?" - -"My honour." - -"Why your honour?" - -"Because I want you to believe that I have a soul." - -He was vastly earnest, and his eyes followed her, as though she were -some being out of heaven. She had never seen such a look in a man's -eyes before; it troubled her. She questioned her own heart, laughed -emptily, and gave in to him. - -"We are both mad," she said, "but go on. I will listen for one minute. -Keep watch lest any one should come upon us suddenly." - -She sat down on the grass bank, while he stood before her, holding his -lazar bell by the clapper. - -"Look at this dress," he said. - -"Yes?" - -"It is how I feel in soul when I look at you." - -She frowned visibly. - -"If you wax personal, messire, I shall leave you." - -"No, no, I will keep to my own carcase, and play the egotist. Well, I -will be brief. Look at me, I am the first lord in the south, master of -an army, one of the twelve knights of the Order of the Rose." - -"Go on." - -"When I was twenty years old, certain clever people found me a wife, a -woman five years my senior in time, twenty years my superior in -knowledge of the world. Well, six months had not passed before I hated -her, hated her with my whole soul. My God, what a thing for a boy to -begin life with a woman who made him half the bounden vassal of the -devil!" - -"You seem generous. The faults were all on her side." - -"Madame, I say nothing against the woman, only that she had no soul. We -were incompatible as day and night, fire and water. The thing crushed -the youth out of me, made me desperate, and worse, made me old beyond my -years. I have done my best. I have groped along like a man in the -dark, knowing nothing, understanding nothing, save that I had a warm -heart in me, and that life seemed one grim jest. The future had no fire -for me; I drank the wine of the present, strove to please my senses, -plunged into the abysses of the world. Sometimes I tried to pray. -Sometimes I played the cynic. The eternal beacon of love had gone out -of my life. I had no sun, no inspiration for my soul." - -She sprang up suddenly, breathing fast like one who is near tears. - -"Why do you speak to me of this?" - -"God knows." - -His voice was utterly lonely. - -"What am I to you? You have hardly seen me three hours in your life. -Why do you speak to me of this?" - -He put a hand to his throat, and did not look at her. - -"Madame, there are people who come near our hearts in one short hour, -people who are winter to us to eternity. Do not ask me to explain this -truth; as Christ's death, I know it to be true. I trust you. All the -logicians of the world could not tell me why. I do not know that I -could bring forward one single reason out of my own soul, save that you -showed me great mercy once. And now--and now----" - -He broke down suddenly, and could not speak. Yeoland appealed to him -out of the quickness of her fear. - -"Messire, messire, your promise." - -"Let me speak, or I stifle." - -"Go, for God's sake, go!" - -He flung his hands towards her with a great outburst of passion. - -"Heaven and God's throne, you shall hear me to the end. Woman, woman, -my soul flows to you as the sea ebbs to the moon; deep in the sky a new -sun burns; the stars are dust, dust blown from the coffins of the dead -who loved. Life leaps in me like another chaos. All my heart glows like -an autumn orchard, and I burn. The world is red with a myriad roses. -God's in the heaven, Christ bleeds on quaking Calvary." - -She ran to him suddenly and seized his wrist. - -"GO----!" - -"I cannot." - -"Men are coming, I hear them in the woods, they will kill you!" - -"I hear them too." - -"Go, go, for my sake and for God's." - -He kissed her sleeve, pulled his cowl down, and fled away into the -woods. - - - - - XVII - - -The Lady Duessa stood in the chapel of water-girded Avalon, with Fra -Balthasar the Dominican beside her. She had slipped in without his -noticing her, and had watched him awhile in silence at his work. The -jingling of her chatelaine had brought him at last to a consciousness of -her presence. Now they stood together before the high altar and looked -at the Madonna seated on her throne of gold, amid choirs of angel women. - -The Lady Duessa's intelligence had waxed critical on the subject. - -"You have altered the Virgin's face," she said. - -Balthasar stared at his handiwork and nodded. - -"The former has been erased, the latter throned in her stead." - -The words had more significance for the lady than the friar had perhaps -intended. A better woman would have snubbed him for his pains. As it -was, he saw her go red, saw the tense stare of her dark eyes, the -tightening of the muscles of her jaw. She had a wondrous strong jaw, -had the Lady Duessa. She was no mere puppet, no bright-eyed, fineried -piece of plasticity. Fra Balthasar guessed the hot, passionate power of -her soul; she was the very woman for the rough handling of a cause, such -as the Lord Flavian her husband had roused against her. - -"I suppose," she said, "this alteration was a matter of art, Balthasar?" - -"A matter of heart, madame." - -"So?" - -"My Lord Flavian commanded it." - -"And yonder face is taken from life?" - -"Madame, I leave the inference to your charity." - -She laughed a deep, cynical laugh, and went wandering round the chapel, -looking at the frescoes, and swinging a little poniard by the chain that -linked it to her girdle. Balthasar made a pretence of mixing colours on -his palette. Worldly rogue that he was, he knew women, especially women -of the Lady Duessa mould. He had a most shrewd notion as to what was -passing in her mind. Morally, he was her abettor, being a person who -could always take a woman's part, provided she were pretty. He believed -women had no business with religion. To Balthasar, like fine glass, -their frailty was their most enhancing characteristic. It gave such -infinite scope to a discreet confessor. - -The Lady Duessa strolled back again, and stood by the altar rails. - -"Am I such a plain woman?" she asked. - -"Madame!" - -"You have never painted me." - -"There are people above the artist's brush." - -"But you paint the Madonna." - -"Madame, the Madonna is anybody's property." - -"Am I?" - -"God forbid that a poet should speak lightly of beauty." - -She laughed again, and touching her hair with her fingers, scanned -herself in a little mirror that she carried at her girdle. - -"Tell me frankly, am I worth painting?" - -"Madame, that purple hair, those splendid eyes, the superb colour of -those cheeks, would blaze out of a golden background as out of heaven." - -She gave a musical little titter. - -"Heaven, heaven, ha--ha." - -"I should be grateful for so transcendent a chance." - -"And you would do me justice?" - -"Where inspiration burns, there art soars." - -"You would be true?" - -"To the chiselling of a coral ear." - -"And discreet?" - -"To the curve of a lip." - -"And considerate?" - -"My hands are subtle." - -"And your heart?" - -"Is ingenuous as a little child's." - -She laughed again, and held out her hands. Balthasar kissed the white -fingers, crowded with their gems. His eyes were warm as water in the -sun; the colours and the glimmering richness of the chapel burnt into -his brain. - -"You shall paint me," she said. - -"Here, madame, here?" - -"No, my own bower is pleasanter. You can reach it by my Lord Flavian's -stair in the turret. Here is the key; he never uses it now. Avalon has -not seen him these six days." - -"Madame, I will paint you as man never painted woman before." - -Dame Duessa's bower was a broad chamber on the western walls, joining -the south-western tower. A great oriel, jewelled with heraldic glass, -looked over the mere with its dreaming lilies, over the green meadows to -the solemn silence of the woods. - -Calypso's grotto! The bower of a luxurious lady in a luxurious age! -The snuff of Ind and Araby tingled in Balthasar's nostrils. The silks -of China and Bagdad, the cloths of Italy, bloomed there; flowers crowded -the window, the couches, every nook. Blood-red hangings warmed the -walls. - -The Lady Duessa sat to Balthasar in the oriel, with her lute upon her -bosom. She was in azure and violet, with neck and bosom showing under a -maze of gossamer gold. Her arms were bare to the shoulder, white, -gleaming arms, subtle, sinuous, voluptuous. Her hair had been powdered -with gold. Her lips were wondrous red, her eyes dark as wells. Musk -and lavender breathed from her samites; her girdle glowed with precious -stones. - -Fra Balthasar sat on a stool inlaid with mother-of-pearl and ivory. An -embroidery frame served him as an easel. The man was living under the -many-constellationed vault of beauty. All the scent and floweriness of -the room played on his brain; all the wealth of it pandered to his art; -all the woman's splendour made molten wax of his being. - -As he painted she sang to him, an old lay of Arthurian love, so that he -might catch the music in her eyes, and watch the deep notes gathering in -her throat. He saw her bosom sway beneath her lace, saw the inimitable -roundness of her arms. Often his brush lingered. He might gaze upon -the woman as he would, drink her beauty like so much violet wine, open -his soul to the opulent summer of her power. His heart was in a sunset -mood; he lived the life of a poet. - - "And the green spring grew subtle," sang the dame, - "With song of birds and laughter, and the woods - Were white for maying. So fair Guinivere - Loosed her long hair like rivulets of gold - That stream from the broad casement of the dawn. - And her sweet mouth was like one lovely rose, - And her white bosom like a bowl of flowers; - So wandered she with Launcelot, while the wind - Blew her long tresses to him, and her eyes - Were as the tender azure of the night." - -Of such things sang Duessa, while the friar spread his colours. - -And then she questioned him. - -"Love you the old legends, Balthasar?" - -"Madame, as I love life." - -"Ah! they could love in those old days." - -"Madame, men can love even now." - -She put her lute aside, and knelt upon the couch before the window, with -her elbows on the cushioned sill. Her silks swept close upon her -shapely back, her shoulders gleamed under her purple hair. In the west -the world grew red; the crimson kisses of the sunset poured upon the -ecstasied green woods. The mere was flaked with a myriad amber scales. -The meadows broidered their broad laps with cowslips, as with dust of -gold. - -"Balthasar." - -"Madame?" - -"Look yonder at the sunset. You must be tired of gazing on my face." - -He rose up like one dazed--intoxicated by colours, sounds, and odours. -Duessa's hand beckoned him. He went and knelt on the couch at her side, -and looked out over the flaming woods. - -"And the other woman?" she said. - -"The other woman?" - -"This Madonna of my lord's chapel." - -"Yes?" - -"She amuses me; I am not jealous; what is jealousy to me? Tell me about -her, Balthasar; no doubt it is a pretty tale, and you know the whole." - -"I, madame?" - -"I, Duessa." - -"But----" - -"You are my Lord Flavian's friend; he was ever a man to be garrulous: he -has been garrulous to you. Tell me the whole tale." - -"Duessa!" - -"Better, better, my friend." - -She put her hands upon his shoulders, and stared straight into his eyes. -Her lips overhung his like ripe red fruit. Her arms were fragrant of -myrrh and violet; her bosom was white as snow under the moon. - -"Can you refuse me this?" - -"God, madame, I can refuse you nothing." - - - - - XVIII - - -The girl Yeoland saw nothing of the leper for a season. For several days -she did not venture far into the pine forest, and the nameless grave -heard not the sound of her lute. The third night after the incident, as -she lay in her room under her canopy of purple cloth, she heard -distinctly the silver clangour of a bell floating up through the -midnight silence. She lay as still as a mouse, and scarcely drew -breath, for fear the man in grey should venture up the stairway. The -casement was open, with a soft June air blowing in like peace. The bell -continued to tinkle, but less noisily, till it vanished into silence. - -Other folk from the cliff had seen the leper, and Yeoland could not -claim to have monopolised the gentleman. One of Fulviac's fellows had -seen him one morning near the cliff, gliding like a grey ghost among the -pines. Another had marked him creeping swiftly away through the -twilight. It was a superstitious age and a superstitious region. The -figure in grey seemed to haunt the place, with the occasional and -mournful sounding of its bell. Men began to gossip, as the ignorant -always will. Fulviac himself grew uneasy for more material reasons, and -contemplated the test of a clothyard shaft or a bolt upon the leper's -body. The man might be a spy, and if the bolt missed its mark it would -at least serve as a sinister hint to this troublesome apparition. - -It was then that Yeoland took alarm into her woman's heart. There was -great likelihood of the man ending his days under the tree with a shaft -sticking fast between his shoulders. Though he was something of a -madman, she did not relish such a prospect. The day after she had heard -the bell at midnight near the stair she haunted the forest like a pixie, -keeping constant watch between the cliff and the forest grave. Fulviac -had ridden out on a plundering venture, and she was free of him for the -day. - -It was not till evening that she heard the faint signal of the bell, -creeping down through the gold-webbed boughs like the sound of a distant -angelus. The sound flew from the north, and beckoned her towards the -forest grave. Fearful of being caught, she followed it as fast as her -feet could carry her, while the deepening clamour led her on. Presently -she called the man by name as she ran. His grey frock and cowl came -dimly through the trees. - -"At last you are merciful," was his greeting. - -She stood still and twisted her gown restlessly between her two hands. -Anarchy showed in her face; fear, reason, and desire were calling to her -heart. The intangible touch of the man's soul threw her being into -chaos. She feared greatly for him, stood still, and could say nothing. -Flavian put his cowl back, and stood aloof from her, looking in her -face. - -"Seemingly we are both embarrassed," he said. - -She made a petulant little gesture. He forestalled her in speech. - -"It is best to be frank when life runs deep. I will speak the truth to -you, and you may treat me as you will." - -Yeoland leant against a tree, and began to pull away the brittle scales -of the bark. - -"If you stay here longer, messire----" she began. - -"Well, madame, what then?" - -"You will be shot like a dog; you are suspected; they are going to try -your leper's gown with a crossbow bolt." - -The man smiled optimistically. - -"And you came to tell me this?" - -"Yes." - -"I thank you." - -The wind moved through the trees; a fir-cone came pattering through the -branches and fell at their feet. On the cliff a horn blared; its -throaty cry came echoing faintly through the trees. - -Flavian looked towards the gold of the west. His mood was calm and -deliberate; he had his enthusiasms in leash for the moment, for there -were more mundane matters in his mind--matters that were not savoury, -however crimson shone the ideal years. - -"I have thrown down the glove," he said, "for good or evil, honour or -dishonour. I will tell you the whole truth." - -Yeoland, watching his face, felt her impatient dreads goad her to the -quick. - -"Will you talk for ever?" she said to him. - -"Take the core then. I am going to rend my bonds as I would rend flax. -I have appealed to the Church; I have poured out gold." - -"To the point, messire." - -"I shall divorce my wife." - -He threw his head back, and challenged the world in her one person. Her -good favour was more to him than the patronage of Pope or King. It was -in his mind that she should believe the worst of him from the beginning, -so that in some later season he might not emulate Lucifer, toppled out -of the heaven of her heart. She should have the truth from the first, -and build her opinion of him on no fanciful basis. Even in this justice -to the more sinister side of his surroundings, he was an idealist, -thorough and enthusiastic. - -"So you must understand, madame, that I am not without blemishes, not -without things that I myself would rather see otherwise. With me it is -a question of going to hell for a woman, or getting rid of her. Being -an egotist, I choose the latter alternative." - -Yeoland still evaded his eyes. - -"And the woman loves you?" - -"Not an atom; she only cares to be called the Lady of Gambrevault, -Signoress of Avalon, the first dame in the south." - -"Why do you tell me this?" - -"Madame, have I need of more words? It is for this: that you might not -picture me as I am not, or form any false conception of me. I have -bared my moral skeleton to you. Perhaps you will never know what it -costs a man at times to make his mind as glass to the woman he honours -above the whole world." - -"Well?" - -"It is because I honour you that I have goaded myself to tell you the -whole truth." - -Her verdict was more sudden and more human than he might have expected. - -"Messire, you are a brave man," she said; "I believe I am beginning to -trust you." - -The sky flamed into sunset; the tracery of the trees seemed webbed with -gold into shimmering domes and fans of quivering light. In the -distance, the great cliff stood out darkly from the scarlet caverns of -the west. The pine tops rose like the black spires of some vast city. -Above, floated clouds, effulgent mounts of fire, hurled from the abysmal -furnace of the sun. - -Flavian came two steps nearer to the woman, leaning against the tree. - -"Give me my due," he said; "I have uncovered the difficult workings of -my heart, I have shown you the inner man in his meaner mould. Suffer me -to speak of my manhood in godlier words. I have shown you Winter; let -me utter forth Spring." - -Yeoland turned and faced him at last. - -"You have risked your life and my honour long enough," she said, "I am -going back to the cliff." - -"And I with you, as far as the stairway." - -"To the threshold of death." - -"What care I if I tread it at your side?" - -She turned homewards with obstinate intent, and the mild hauteur of a -good woman. The man followed her, went with her step for step, looking -in her face. - -"Hear my confession," he said; "you shall have it before you leave me. -For the sake of your honour, I hold my soul by the collar. But--but, I -shall win liberty, liberty. When I am free, ah, girl, girl, I shall -flash golden wings in the face of the sun. I shall soar to you that I -may look into your eyes, that I may touch your hands, and breathe the -warm summer of your soul. I want God, I want purity, I want the Eternal -peace, I want your heart. I have said the whole; think of me what you -will." - -Twilight had gathered; all the violet calmness of the night came down -upon the world. Under the shadows of the tall trees, the girl was -deeply stirred beyond her own compassion. She halted, hesitated, went -suddenly near the man with her face turned heavenwards like a new-spread -flower. Her eyes were very wistful, and she spoke almost in a whisper. - -"You have told me the whole truth, you have shown me your whole soul?" - -"As I serve you, madame, I have kept nothing back." - -"Ah, messire, I will speak to you the truth in turn. God be merciful to -me, but you have come strangely near my heart. These are bitter words -for my soul. Ah, messire, if you have any honour for me, trust me that I -aspire to heaven. I cannot suffer you to come deeper into my life." - -The man held out his hands. - -"Why, why?" - -"Because in following me, you go innocently to your death." - -He lifted up his arms, and leapt into heroics like an Apollo leaping -into a blood-red sky. - -"What care I; you speak in riddles; can I fear death?" - -"Messire, messire, it is the woman who fears. I tell you this, because, -because--God help me----" - -She fled away, but that night he did not follow her. - - - - - XIX - - -As a wind sweeps clamorous into a wood, so Modred and his fellows, -household knights, streamed into the great hall of Avalon, where the -Lord Flavian sat at supper. Bearers of angry steel, fulminators of -vengeance, vociferous, strong, they poured in through the screens like a -mill race, bearing a tossed and impotent figure in their midst. Their -swords yelped and flashed over this bruised fragment of humanity. - -A gauntlet of steel was dashed often into the white face. Hands clawed -his collar, clutched his body. Dragged, jerked onwards, buffeted, -beaten to his knees, he sank down before the Lord Flavian's chair, blood -streaming from his mouth and nostrils, specking his white habit, -drabbling the floor. Then only did the flashing, growling circle recede -like waves from a fallen rock. - -Modred, a black man, burly, a bigot to honour, stood out a giant before -his fellows. His great sword quivered to the roof; his deep voice shook -the rafters. - -"Blood, sire, blood." - -The man in the white habit quailed, and held up his hands. - -"Let me smite him as he kneels." - -"Sirs, give me the courtesy of silence." - -Flavian started from his chair and looked at the man, who knelt, huddled -into himself, at his feet. It was a scene replete with the grim -cynicism of life. Here was a man of mind and genius, cowering, -quivering before the strong wrath of a dozen muscular illiterates. Here -was the promulgator of bold truths, an utter dastard when the physical -part of him was threatened with dissolution. Not that this event was any -proof against the moral power of pagan self-reliance. Not that there -was any cause for the bleating of sanctimonious platitudes, or the -pointing of a proverb. A true churchman might have carved a fine moral -fable out of the reality. It would have been a fallacy. Fra Balthasar -was a coward. He had none of the splendid mental anatomy of a Socrates. -He would have played the coward even under the eye of Christ. - -Silence had fallen. Far away, choked by the long throats of gallery and -stair, rose the wild, passionate screaming of a woman. It had the -rebellious, blasphemous agony of one flung into eternal fire. Without -modulation, abatement, or increase, malevolent, impotent, ferocious, -piteous, it pealed out in long, tempestuous bursts that swept into the -ears like some unutterable discord out of hell. - -The kneeling man heard it, and seemed to contract, to shrink into -himself. His white habit was rent to the middle; his ashy face splashed -over with blood. He tottered and shook, his hands clasped over the nape -of his neck, for fear of the sword. His tongue clave to his palate; his -eyes were furtively fixed on the upreared yard of steel. - -Torches and cressets flared. Servants stared and shouldered and gaped -in the screens; all the castle underlings seemed to have smelt out the -business like the rats they were. Modred's knights put them out with -rough words and the flat of the sword. The doors were barred. Only -Flavian, the priest, and Modred and his men took part in that tribunal -in the hall of Avalon. - -Flavian stood and gazed on Balthasar, the man of tones and colours. The -Lord of Gambrevault was calm, unhurried, and dispassionate, yet not -unpleased. The man's infinite abasement and terror seemed to arrest him -like some superb precept from the lips of a philosopher. He had the air -of a man who calculates, the look of a diplomat whose scheme has worked -out well. From Balthasar he looked to Modred the Strong, the torchlight -lurid on his armour, his great sword quivering like a falcon to leap -down upon its prey. The distant screaming, somewhat fainter and less -resolute, still throbbed in his ears. He thought of Dante, and the -_bolgias_ of that superhuman singer. - -Going close to the Dominican, he spoke to him in strong, yet not -unpitying tones. Balthasar dared not look above the Lord Flavian's -knees. - -"Ha, my friend, where is all your fine philosophy?" - -The man cringed like a beggar. - -"Where are all your sonorous phrases, your pert blasphemies, your -subtleties, your fine tinsel of intellect and vanity?" - -Balthasar had no word. - -"Where is your godliness, my friend, where your glowing and superhuman -soul? Have we found you out, O Satanas; have we shocked your pagan -heroism? Be a man. Stand up and face us. You could hold forth roundly -on occasions. Even that Saul of Tarsus was not afraid of a sword." - -Balthasar cowered, and hid his face behind his hands. He began to -whimper, to rock to and fro, to sob. The grim men round him laughed, -deep-chested, iron, scoffing laughter. Modred pricked the priest's neck -with the point of his sword. It was then that Balthasar fell forward -upon his face, senseless from sheer terror. - -Flavian abandoned philosophic irony, and addressed himself to Modred and -his knights. - -"Put up your swords, sirs; this man shall go free." - -"Sire, sire!" came the massed cry. - -"Trust my discretion. The fellow has done me the greatest service of my -life." - -"Sire!" - -"He has given me liberty. He has gnawed the shackles from my soul. You -are all my witnesses in this, and may count upon my gratitude. But this -man here, he has danced to my whim like a doll plucked by a string. For -my liberty has he sinned; out of Avalon shall he go scatheless." - -The men still murmured. Modred shot home his sword into its scabbard -with a vicious snap. Flavian read their humour. - -"Do not imagine, gentlemen," he said, "that your vigilance and your -loyalty to my honour can go unrewarded. Modred, your lands are heavily -mortgaged, I free you at a word, with this my signet. To you, Bertrand, -I give the Manor of Riesole to keep and hold for you and yours. To all -you, good friends, I give a hundred golden angels, man and man. And -now, sirs, as to madame, my wife." - -They gathered round him in curious conclave, Balthasar lying in their -midst. - -"Sir Modred, you will order out my state litter, set the Lady Duessa -therein, and have her borne with all courtesy to Gilderoy, to her -father's house. Then you will take these gentlemen who are my true -friends and witnesses, and you will ride to Lauretia, to make solemn -declaration before Bishop Hilary. He has already received my earlier -embassage. After this affair, we have no need of ethical subtleties and -clerical conveniences. You will obtain a dispensation at his hands. -_Ex vinculo matrimonii_. Nothing less than that." - -They bowed to him and his commands, like the loyal gentlemen they were. -Modred pointed to the prostrate Balthasar, who was already squirming -back to consciousness, with his fingers feeling at his throat, as though -to discover whether it was still sound or no. - -"And this fellow, sire?" - -"Pick him up." - -Balthasar had found his tongue at last. He was jerked to his feet, and -held up by force, with the handle of a poniard rammed into his mouth to -stem his garrulity. - -Flavian read him an extemporary lecture. There was something like a -smile hovering about his lips. - -"Go back to your missal, man, and forswear women. They are like strong -wine, too much for your flimsy brain. I have more pity for you than -censure. Say to yourself, when you patter your prayers, 'Flavian of -Gambrevault saved me from the devil once.' And yet, my good saint, I -have a shrewd notion that you will be just as great a fool two months -hence." - -The man gave a scream of delight, and attempted to throw himself at -Flavian's feet. His superlative joy was almost ludicrous. Half a dozen -hands dragged him back. - -"Take him away--who cares for such gratitude!" - -As they marched him off, he broke like an imbecile into hysterical -laughter. Tears streamed from his eyes. He mopped his face with the -corner of his habit, laughed and snivelled, and sang snatches of tavern -ditties. So, with many a grim jest, they cuffed Fra Balthasar out of -Avalon. - -At the end of the drama, Flavian called for tapers, and marched in state -to the chapel. He knelt before the altar and prayed to the Madonna, -whose face was the face of the girl Yeoland. - - - - - XX - - -"Fulviac, I cannot fasten all these buckles." - -The man waited at the door of her room, and looked at her with a -half-roguish smile in his eyes. - -She stood by the window in Gothic armour of a grandly simple type, no -Maximilian flutings, no Damascening, the simple Gothic at its grandest, -nothing more. Her breast-plate, with salient ridge, was blazoned over -with golden fleur-de-lis. The pauldrons were slightly ridged; vam-brace -and rere-brace were beautifully jointed with most quaint elbow-pieces. -She wore a great brayette, a short skirt of mail, but no tassets. In -place of cuishes, jambs, and solerets, she had a kirtle of white cloth, -and laced leather shoes. It was light work and superbly wrought; -Fulviac had paid many crowns for it from an armourer at Geraint. - -Her beauty, mailed and cased in steel, seemed to shine upon the man with -a new glory. When he had played the armourer, she stood and looked at -him with a most conscious modesty, a warm colour in her cheeks, eyes -full of tremulous light, her masses of dark hair rolling down over her -blazoned cuirass. A hand and a half sword in a gilded scabbard, a rich -baldric, and a light bassinet lay on the oak table. Fulviac took the -sword, and belted it to her, and slung the baldric over her shoulder. -His hands moved through her dark hair. For a moment, her eyes trembled -up at him under their long lashes. He gave the helmet into her hands, -but she did not wear it. - -A sudden gust of youth seized the man, an old strain of chivalry woke in -his heart. Grizzled and gaunt, he went on his knees in front of her and -held up his hands as in prayer. There was a warm light in his eyes. - -"The Mother Virgin keep you, little woman. May all peril be far from -your heart, all trouble far from your soul. May my arm ever ward you, my -sword guard your womanhood. All the saints watch over you; may the -Spirit of God abide with you in my heart." - -It was a true prayer, though Fulviac stumbled up from his knees, looking -much like an awkward boy. He was blushing under his tanned skin, -blushing, scarred and battered worldling that he was, for his heart -still showed gold to the knife of Time. Yeoland thought more of him -that moment than she had done these four months. A shadow passed over -her face, and she touched her forehead with her hand. - -Fulviac, a far-away look in his eyes, was furling her great scarlet -banner upon its staff. Yeoland spoke to him over her shoulder. - -"I am in your hands," she said. - -Fulviac smoothed out a crease. - -"What is your will, you have not yet enlightened me?" - -He looked at her gravely for a moment. - -"You are ours," he said, "a woman given to us by heaven," he hesitated, -as over a lie; "you are to shine out a star, a pillar of fire before the -host; every man who follows you will know your story; every man who -follows you will worship you in his heart. You will inspire us as no -mere man could inspire; your blood-red banner will wave on heroes, -patriots. You will play the comet with an army for your tail." - -Some sudden emotion seemed to sweep over her. She stood motionless with -clasped hands, looking at her crucifix. There was a strange sadness upon -her face, a tragic sanctity, as on the face of a woman who renounces the -world, and more. For a long while she was silent, as though suffering -some lustre light out of heaven to stream into her heart. Presently she -answered Fulviac. - -"God help me to be strong," she said, "God help me to bear the burden He -has put upon my soul." - -"Amen, little woman." - -"And now?" - -"Prosper is preaching to all our men upon the cliff. He is telling them -your story. I take you now to set you before them all, that they may -look upon a living Saint. I leave the rest to your soul. God will tell -you how to bear yourself in the cause of the people. Come, let us pray -a moment." - -They knelt down side by side before the crucifix, like effigies on a -tomb. Fulviac's face was in shadow; Yeoland's turned heavenward to the -Cross. It was her renunciation. Then they arose; Fulviac took up the -scarlet banner, and they passed out together from the room. - -Traversing parlour and guard-room, finding them empty and silent as a -church, they came by the winding stairway in the rock to the hollow -opening upon the platform above. Two sentinels stood by the rough door. -Above and around, great stones had been piled up so as to form a species -of natural battlement. Fulviac, bearing the banner, climbed the rocks, -and signed to Yeoland to follow. They were still within a kind of rude -tower, walled in by heaped blocks of stone on every side. They were -alone save for the two sentinels. Above, they saw Prosper the Preacher -standing on a great square mass of rock, his tall figure outlined -against the sky. - -They could see that the man was borne along by the strong spirit of the -preacher. His arms tossed to the sky as he bent forward and preached to -those invisible to Fulviac and the girl. His oratory was of a fervid, -strenuous type, like fire leaping in a wind, fierce, mobile, passionate. -They could see him stride to and fro on his platform, gesticulate, point -to heaven, smite his bosom, strike attitudes of ecstasy. His voice rang -out the while, full of subtle modulations, the pathetic abandonments, -the supreme outbursts of the orator. Much that he said fell deep into -the girl's heart. The man had that strange power, that magnetic -influence that exists in the individual, defying analysis, yet real as -the stirring witchery of great music, or as the voice of the sea. - -Anon they saw him fall upon his knees, and lift his hands to the -heavens. He had cast a quick glance backward over his shoulder. -Prosper had soared to his zenith; he had his men listening as for the -climax of some great epic. Fulviac thrust Yeoland forward up the slope. -She understood the dramatic pause in an instant. Prosper's words had -been like the orisons of birds preluding the dawn. She climbed the -rocks, and stepped out at the kneeling monk's side. - -The scene below dazed her for the moment. Many hundred faces were -turned to her from the slopes at her feet. Innumerable eyes seemed -fixed upon her with a mesmeric stare. She saw the whole cliff below her -packed with men, every rock crowned with humanity, even the pine trees -had their living burden. She saw swords waving like innumerable streaks -of light; she had a confused vision of fanaticism, exultation, power. -Deep seemed calling unto deep; a noise like the noise of breakers was in -her ears. - -Then the whole grew clear on the instant. The sky seemed strangely -luminous; every outline in the landscape took marvellous and intelligent -meaning. Strange Promethean fire flashed down into her brain. She felt -her heart leaping, her blood bounding through her body, yet her mind -shone clear as a crystal grael. - -Below her, she had humanity, plastic, inflammable, tinder to her touch. -An infinite realisation of power seemed to leap in her as at the beck of -some spirit wand. She felt all the dim heroism of dreams glowing in her -like wine given of the gods. - -Holy fire burnt on her forehead and her tongue was loosed. She stood -out on the great rock, her armour flashing in the sun, her face bright -as the moon in her strength. Her voice, clear and silvery, carried far -over cliff and wood, for the day was temperate and without a wind. - -"Look upon me well. I tell you the truth. I am she to whom the Madonna -appeared from heaven." - -Great silence answered her, the silence of awe, not of disbelief or -disapprobation. Her voice rang solitary as the voice of a wood-fay in -the wilderness. The huddled men below were silent as children whose -solemn eyes watch a priest before the altar. She spoke on. - -"I am she whose tale you have heard. God has given me to the cause of -the poor. To your babes and to your womenfolk I lift my hands; from the -Mother of Jesus I hold my command. Men of the land, will you believe -and follow my banner?" - -A thousand hands leapt to the sun, yet hardly a voice broke the silence, -the calm as of supreme revelation. All the simple mediaeval faith shone -in the rough faces; all the quaint reverence, the unflinching fidelity, -of the unlettered of the age shone in their hearts. They were warm -earth to the seed of faith. - -"Men of the land, I hear great noise of violence and wrong, of hunger -and despair. Your lords crush you; your priests go in jewels and fine -linen, and preach not the Cross. Your babes are slaves even before they -see the light. Your children, like brute beasts, are bound to the soil. -Men of the land, give me your strength, give me your strength for the -cause of God." - -She drew her sword from its sheath, pressed the blade to her lips, held -it up to heaven. Her voice rang over rock and tree. - -"Justice and liberty!" - -Her shrill hail seemed to lift the silence from a thousand throats. The -human sea below gave up its soul to her with thundering surges and vast -sound of faith. As roar followed roar, she stood a bright, silvery -pinnacle above the black fanaticism beneath, transcendent Hope holding -her sword to the eternal sun. - -Behind her, Fulviac unwrapped the great scarlet banner she had wrought. -Its cross of gold gleamed out as he lifted the staff with both hands. -Prosper, erect and exultant, stood pointing to its device. Then, in -sight of all men, he bowed down before the girl and kissed her feet, as -though she had been some rare messenger out of heaven. - - - - - XXI - - -The day had done gloriously till noon, but the sky's mood changed as -evening advanced. Clouds were huddled up in grey masses by a gathering -and gusty wind, and the June calm took flight like a girl in a new gown -when rain threatens. - -By nightfall, a storm held orgy over the cliff. Billow upon billow of -wind came roaring over the myriad trees. The pines were sweeping a murky -sky with their black brooms, creaking and moaning in chorus. Rain -rattled heavily, and over the cliff the storm thundered and cried with -the long wail of the wind over rock and tree. - -In Yeoland's chamber the lamp flared and smoked, and the postern -clattered. Rain splashed upon the shivering casement; the carpet -breathed restlessly with the draught under the door. It was late, yet -the girl was still at her devotions. Her thoughts were dishevelled and -full of discords, while between her fingers the beads of her rosary -moved listlessly, and her prayers were broken by the anathemas of the -storm. - -The dual distractions of life had come in her to grappling point again. -She could boast no omnipotence in her own heart, and could but give -countenance to one of the two factions that clamoured for her favour. -As her mood changed like the mood of a fickle despot none too sure of -his throne, so tumult and despair were let loose time after time into -the echoing courts and alleys of her soul. She had neither the courage -nor the force of will for the moment to compel herself either to satisfy -her womanhood or sacrifice her instincts to a religious conviction. Man -and God held each a half of her being. The man's face outstared God's -face; God's law overshadowed the man's. - -She had been carried into the palpitating azure of religious exaltation. -The world had rolled at her feet. She had bathed her forehead in the -infinite forethought of eternity; she had heard the stupendous sounding -of the spheres. Then some mischievous sprite had plucked the wings from -her shoulders, and she had fallen far into an abyss. After spiritual -exaltation comes physical depression. Neither is a normal state; neither -strictly sane to the intellect. Peter-like, she had trod the waves; -faith had played her false; the waters had gone over her soul. - -As she knelt brooding before her crucifix, under the wavering lamp, she -was smitten into listening immobility, her rosary idle in her hand. A -cry had come to her amid the multitudinous voices of the storm, a cry -like a hail from a ship over a tumbling sea at night. - -She waited and wondered. Again the cry rose above the babel of the -wind. Was it from Fulviac's room; or a sentinel's shout from the cliff, -seized upon and carried by the wind with distorting vehemence? Midnight -covered the world, and the girl was in an impressionable mood. She took -the lamp from its bracket and, opening the door, peered down the gallery -that led to Fulviac's room. - -A sudden sinister sound made her start back into the room, the lamp -flashing tremulous beams upon the walls, and striking confusion into the -shadows. A hand was beating heavily upon the postern. - -She set the lamp in its bracket, crept to the door, put her ear to the -lock and listened. The knocking had ceased, and in a momentary lulling -of the wind she even fancied she could hear the sound of deep breathing. -Her heart was hurrying, but suspense emboldened her. - -"Who's there?" - -A sudden gust made such a bluster that her voice died almost unheard in -the night. There was a vague clangour without, as of arms, and the -knocking re-echoed sullenly through the room. A lull came again. - -"Who knocks?" - -This time an answer came back to her. - -"I--Flavian." - -She caught her breath and shivered. - -"What do you want at midnight, and in such a storm?" - -"Let me in. Open to me." - -"No--no." - -"Open to me." - -"Are you still mad?" - -Silence held a moment. Then the voice rose again, with the hoarse moan -of the wind for an underchant. - -"Liberty, liberty, I am free, I am free." - -She shrank aside against the wall. - -"The night gave me my chance; I have men in the wood. Let me in." - -"Ah, messire." - -"I plead for love and my own soul. I come to give you life, sword, all. -I cannot leave you; I am in outer darkness; you are in heaven. Let me -in." - -She stood swaying like a reed in a breeze. Her brain glowed like some -rich scheme of colour, some sun-ravished garden. The massed moan of a -hundred viols seemed to sweep over her soul. God, for the courage to be -weak! - -"Yeoland! Yeoland! have you no word for me?" - -Her hand trembled to the door; her fingers closed upon the key. She -hesitated and her dangling rosary caught her glance; sudden revulsions -of purpose flooded back; she stumbled away from the door like one about -to faint. - -"I cannot, I cannot," she said. - -"I will break down the door." - -The threat inspired her. - -"No, no, not thus can you win me." - -"I will break in." - -"Attempt it, and I will call the guard. You will lose hope of me for -ever. I swear it." - -Her voice rang true and strong as a sword. With her judgment, silence -fell again, and ages seemed to crawl over the world. When the man spoke -again, his voice was less masterful, more pathetic. - -"Have you no hope for me?" it said. - -"I have given you life." - -"What is life without love?" - -She sighed very bitterly. - -"Messire, you do not understand," she said. - -"No, you are a riddle to me." - -"A riddle that you may read anon; time will show you the truth. I tell -you I am given to God. Only in one way can you win me." - -"Are you solemn over this?" - -"Solemn as death." - -"Tell me that only way." - -"Only by breaking the bonds about my soul, by liberating me from myself, -by battle and through perils that you cannot tell." - -"War and the sword!" - -"Yet not to-night. You would need ten thousand men to take me from this -cliff. I advise you for your good. Only by great power and the sword -can you win your desire." - -"By God, then, let it be war." - -An utter sense of loneliness flooded over her. She sobbed in her -throat, leant against the door, listened, waited. The wind roared -without, the rain beat upon the quaking casement, and she heard the -multitudinous moaning of the pines. No voice companioned her, and the -night was void. - -A sudden access of passion prompted her. She twisted at the key, tore -the bolts aside, flung the door open. The stairway was empty. Rain -whirled in her face, as she stood out in the wind, and called the man -many times by name. It was vain and to no purpose. - -Presently she re-entered the room, very slowly, and barred the door. -Her rosary rolled under her feet. She picked it up suddenly and dashed -it away into a corner. The face on the crucifix seemed to leer at her -from the wall. - - - - - PART III - - - - XXII - - -Aurelius, physician of Gilderoy, flourished on the fatness of a -fortunate reputation. He was a rubicund soul, clean and pleasant, with -a neatly-trimmed beard, and a brow that seemed to dome a very various -and abundant wisdom. He combined a sprightly humour and an enlivening -presence with the reverent solemnity necessary to his profession. - -As for the ladies of Gilderoy, they reverenced Master Aurelius with a -loyalty that became perhaps less remarkable the more one considered the -character of the worthy charlatan. Aurelius was an AEsculap in court -clothing. He was ignorant, but as no one realised the fact, the soul of -Hippocrates would have been wasted in his body. Discretion was his -crowning virtue. He was so sage, so intelligent, so full of a simple -understanding for the ways of women, that the frail creatures could not -love him enough. The confidences granted to a priest were nothing -compared to the truths that were unmasked to his tactful ken. The -physician is the priest of the body, a privileged person, suffered to -enter the bed-chamber before the solemn rites of the toilet have been -performed. He sees many strange truths, beholds fine and wonderful -transfigurations, presides over the confessional of the flesh. And -Aurelius never whispered of these mysteries; never displayed -astonishment; always discovered extraordinary justification for the -quaintest inconsistencies, the most romantic failings. He carried a -sweet and sympathetic air of propriety about with him, like a perfume -that exhaled a most comfortable odour of religion. His salves were -delectable to a degree, his unguents and cosmetics remarkable -productions. Dames took his potions in lieu of Malmsey, his powders in -place of sweetmeats. Never did a more pleasant, a more tactful old -hypocrite pander to the failings of an unregenerate world. - -Aurelius stood in his laboratory one June morning, balancing a money-bag -in his chubby pink palm. He seemed tickled by some subtlety of thought, -and wonderfully well pleased with his own good-humour. He smiled, -locked the money-bag in a drawer that stood in a confidential cupboard, -and, taking his cap and walking-staff, repaired to the street. Pacing -the narrow pavement like a veritable potentate, pretentious as any -peacock, yet mightily amiable from the superb self-satisfaction that -roared in him like a furnace, he acknowledged the greetings of -passers-by with the elevation of a hand, a solemn movement of the head. -It was well to seem unutterably serious when under the eyes of the mob. -Only educated folk can properly understand levity in a sage. - -In the Erminois, a stately highway that ran northwards from the -cathedral, he halted before a mansion whose windows were rich with -scutcheons and proud blazonry. Aurelius prospered with the rich. The -atmosphere of the mean quarters was like a miasma to him; he loved -sunlight and high places where he might bask like a lizard. He passed -by a great gateway into the inner court, and was admitted into the house -with that ready deference that speaks of familiarity and respect. - -Aurelius climbed the broad stairway, and sailed like a stately carrack -into my lady's chamber. A dame in blue and silver greeted him from an -oriel. The compounder of cosmetics bowed, disposed his staff and velvet -cap upon a table, and appropriated the chair the lady had assigned to -him. - -"Superb weather, madame." - -"Too sultry, though I am a warm-souled person." - -"True, madame, true, Gilderoy would be fresher if there were no mean -folk to stifle up the streets like weeds. The alleys send up such an -unpleasant stench upon the breeze, that it makes the cultured sense -revolt from poverty." - -The Lady Duessa's lips curled approvingly, - -"Poverty, poverty, my dear Aurelius, is like a carcase, fit only for -quicklime. If I had the rule of the place, I would make poverty a -crime, and cram all our human sweepings into lazar quarters." - -The man of physic nodded for sympathy. - -"Exactly so, madame, but one would have to deal with the inevitable -religious instinct." - -"That would be simple enough," she simpered. "I should confine religion -to shadows and twinkling tapers, lights streaming in through enamelled -casements upon solemn colours bowing before dreamy music; pardons and -absolutions bought with a purse of gold. It is sad, Aurelius, but who -doubts but that religion makes scavengers of us all? Away with your -smug widows, your frouzy burgher saints, your yellow-skinned -priest-hunters! I would rather have picturesque sin than vulgar piety." - -The man of herbs sighed like an organ pipe. - -"Everything can be pardoned before coarseness," he said; "give me a -dirty heart before a dirty face, provided the sinner be pretty. I trust -that madame was satisfied with my endeavours, that the perfumes were -such as she desired, the oil of Arabia pleasant and fragrant?" - -"Magical, my AEsculap. The oil makes the skin like velvet, and the -drugs are paradisic and full of languors. Ah, woman, set the tray beside -Master Aurelius' chair." - -The man's eyes glistened over the salver and the cup. He bowed to his -hostess, sniffed, and pursed his lips over the wine. - -"Madame knows how to warm the heart." - -"Truth to you. Who have you been renovating of late? What carcase have -you been painting, you useful rogue?" - -"Madame, my profession is discreet." - -"I see your work everywhere. There is the little brown-faced thing who -is to marry John of Brissac. Well, she needed art severely. Now the -lady has a complexion like apple-blossom." - -The old man's eyes twinkled. - -"Madame is pleased to jest," he said, "and to think her -fancies--realities. Were all ladies as fresh as Madame Duessa, what, -think you, would become of my delectable art, my science of beauty? I -should be a poor bankrupt old man, ruined by too much comeliness." - -Aurelius always had the wit to say the pleasantest thing possible, and -to press the uttermost drop of honey from the comb of flattery. A surly -tongue will break a man, a glib intelligence ensure him a fortune. -Aurelius earned many a fee by a pretty speech, or a tactful suggestion. -Then of course he was never hindered by sincerity. - -"Holy Dominic," laughed the lady, "I have proved a good patron to you in -many ways." - -"And I trust I shall always deserve madame's trust." - -"A discreet tongue and a comfortable obedience are sweet things to a -woman, Aurelius." - -"Madame's voice recalls Delphi." - -"Ah, the Greeks were poets; they knew how to fit their religion to their -pleasures. 'Tis only we, poor fools, who measure sin by a priest's -pardon. Give me a torch before an aspergill." - -The man of physic sipped his wine, cogitating over it with Jovian -wisdom. - -"The chief aim in life, madame," he said, "should be the perfecting of -one's own comfort. 'Tis my contention that a fat bishop is a finer -Christian than a lean friar. The truism is obvious. Is not my soul the -more mellifluous and benign if its shell is gilded and its vest of -velvet?" - -Duessa chuckled, and flipped her chin. - -"Give me a warm bed," she laughed, "and I will pity creation. The -world's saints are plump and comely; the true goddess has a supple knee. -Am I the worse for being buxom!" - -"Madame," said the sage with great unction, "only beggars denounce gold, -and heaven is the dream of diseased souls. The cult of pleasure is the -seal of health. Discontent is the seed of religion." - -The door opened a few inches, and there was the sound of voices in -muffled debate in the gallery. The Lady Duessa listened, rose from her -chair, appeared restless. The man of physic comprehended the situation, -and with that tact that characterised him, declared that he had -patronage elsewhere to assuage. The lady did not detain him, but -dismissed him with a smile--a smile that on such a face as hers often -took the place of words. So Master Aurelius took his departure. - -Five minutes later Sforza, Gonfaloniere of Gilderoy, occupied the vacant -chair in the oriel. - -There are many ways to fame. By the broad, embattled gate where the -Cerberus of War crouches; by the glistening stair of glass where all the -beauty of the world gleams as in a thousand mirrors; by the cloaca of -diplomacy and cunning, that tunnels under truth and honour. Sforza of -Gilderoy was a man who never took his finger off a guinea till he had -seen ten dropped into the other palm. He was a narrow-faced, -long-whiskered rat, ever nibbling, ever poking his keen snout into -prospective prosperity. He had no real reverence for anything under the -sun. To speak metaphorically, he would as soon steal the sacrificial -wafer from the altar as the cheese from a burgher's larder. When he -lived in earnest, he lived in moral nebulosity, that is to say, he had -no light save his own lantern. Publicly, he appeared a sleek, dignified -person, quick with his figures, apt at oratory, a man who could quote -scripture by the ell and swear by every saint in the calendar. - -Sforza, Gonfaloniere of Gilderoy, sat and faced Dame Duessa over a -little table that held wine and a bowl of roses. His large hands rested -on the carved arms of the chair. He had a debonair smirk on his face, a -mask of complacency that suffered him to be vigilant in a polite and -courteous fashion. - -"Madame has considered my proposition?" - -The woman leant back in her chair and worked her full lower lip against -her teeth. - -"I recognise your infallibility, Gonfaloniere." - -"Only to the level of human foresight, madame." - -"You have a longer nose than most men." - -"I take the insinuation as a compliment." - -He contemplated her awhile in silence. - -"How am I to know that you are sincere?" he said. - -"Need you disbelieve me?" - -"It is my custom to disbelieve in everybody." - -"Till they have satisfied you?" - -"Exactly." - -Duessa looked out of the window, and played with her chatelaine. - -"You know women?" - -"I would never lay claim to such an arrogance of cunning." - -"Nevertheless you are no fool." - -"I am no fool." - -"And you imagine my protestations are not sincere, even after what I -have suffered?" - -He smiled at her most cunningly. - -"You want proof?" - -"I do not like unsigned documents." - -She started forward in her chair with a strangely strenuous look on her -face. - -"Fanatic fools have often made some show of fortitude," she said, "by -thrusting a hand into the fire, or the like. See now if I am a liar or a -coward." - -Before he could stay her she drew a small stiletto from her belt, spread -her left hand on the table, and then smote the steel through the thick -of the palm, and held it there without flinching as the blood flowed. - -"My signature," she said, with her cheeks a shade paler. - -"Madame, you have spirit." - -"Do you believe in me?" - -"I may say so." - -"You will include me in your schemes?" - -"I will." - -"You remember our mutual bargain?" - -"I remember it." - -She withdrew the stiletto and wrapped her bleeding hand in her robe. - -"You will initiate me--at once." - -"To-morrow, madame, you shall go with me to the council." - - - - - XXIII - - -Castle Gambrevault stood out on a great cliff above the sea, like a huge -white crown on the country's brow. It was as fine a mass of masonry as -the south could show, perched on its great outjutting of the land, -precipiced on every side, save on the north. Hoary, sullen, -stupendously strong, it sentinelled the sea that rolled its blue to the -black bastions of the cliffs. Landwards, green downs swept with long -undulations to the valleys and the woods. - -That Junetide Gambrevault rang with the clangour of arms. The Lord -Flavian's riders had spurred north, east, and west to manor and hamlet, -grange and lone moorland tower. There had been a great burnishing of -arms, a bending of bows through all the broad demesne. Steel had -trickled over the downs towards the tall towers of Gambrevault. -Knights, with esquires, men-at-arms, and yeomen, had ridden in to keep -feudal faith. The Lord Flavian had swept the country for a hundred -miles for mercenary troops and free-lances. His coffers poured gold. -He had pitched a camp in the Gambrevault meadows; some fifteen hundred -horse and two thousand foot were gathered under his banner. - -From the hills cattle were herded in, and heavy wains laden with flour -creaked up to the castle. There was much victualling, much blaring of -trumpets, much blowing of pennons, much martial stir in the meadows. It -seemed as though the Lord Flavian had a strenuous campaign in view, and -there was much conjecture on the wind. The strange part of it was, that -none save Sir Modred had any knowledge for what or against whom they -were to fight. It might be John of Brissac, Gambrevault's mortal enemy; -it might develop into a demonstration against the magistracy of -Gilderoy. Blood was to be spilt, so ran the current conviction. For -the rest, Flavian's feudatories were loyal, and left the managing of the -business to their lord. - -The men had been camped a week, and yet there was no striking of tents, -no plucking up of pennons. Sir Modred had ridden out to bring in a body -of five hundred mercenaries from Geraint. The Lord Flavian himself, -with a troop of twenty spears, was lodged for a few days in Gilderoy, in -the great Benedictine monastery, where his uncle held rule as abbot. He -was negotiating for arms, fifty bassinets, two hundred gisarmes, a -hundred ranseurs, fifty glaives, and a number of two-handed swords. He -had found the Armourer's Guild peculiarly insolent, and disinclined to -serve him. He had little suspicion that Gilderoy was seething under the -surface like so much lava. - -Thus, while the Lord Flavian was preparing for his march into the great -pine forest, Fulviac had completed his web of revolt. He had heard of -the gathering at Gambrevault, and had hurried on his schemes in -consequence. Five thousand men were ready at his back. He would gain -ten thousand men from Gilderoy; seven thousand from Geraint. These -outlaw levies, free-lances, and train-bands would give him the nucleus -of the vast host that was to spring like corn from every quarter of the -land. Malgo was to head the rising in the west, and to concentrate at -Conan, a little town in the mountains. In the east, Godamar was to -gather a great camp in Thorney Isle amid the morasses of the fens. -Fulviac would himself overthrow the lords of the south. Then they were -to converge and to gather strength for the march upon Lauretia, proud -city of the King. - -It would be a great war and a bitter, full of fanatical fierceness and -revenge. Fulviac had given word to take, pillage, and burn all strong -places. Destiny stood with wild hands to the heavens, a bosom of -scarlet, and hair aghast. If the horde conquered, the seats of the -mighty would reek amid flame; there would be death, and a great silence -over proud cities. - - - - - XXIV - - -In an antechamber in the palace of Sforza of Gilderoy stood the Lady -Duessa, watching the day die in the west over a black chaos of spires -and gables. Before her, under the casement, lay the palace garden, a -pool of perfume, banked with tall cypresses, red with the fire of a -myriad roses. As night to the sunset, so seemed this antechamber to the -garden, panelled with black oak, a dark square of gloom red-windowed to -the west. The place had a sullen, iron-mouthed look, as though its -walls had developed through the years a sour and world-wise silence. - -The Lady Duessa was not a woman who could trail tamely in anterooms. A -restless temper chafed her pride that evening, and kept her footing the -polished floor like a love-lorn nun treading a cloister. The casements -were open to the garden, and the multitudinous sounds of the city -flooded in--the thunder of the tumbrils in the narrow streets, the -distant blare of trumpets from the castle, the clangour of the cathedral -bells. A solitary figure companioned the Lady Duessa in the anteroom, -cloaked and masked as was the dame herself. It was Balthasar the -Dominican, who followed her now in secular habit, having forsworn his -black mantle and taken refuge in her service. From time to time the two -spoke together in whispering undertones; more than once their lips -touched. - -The Lady Duessa turned and stood by a casement with her large white -hands on the sill. She appeared to grow more restive as the minutes -passed, as though the antique clock on the mantle clicked its tongue at -her each gibing second. - -"This is insolence," she said anon, "holding us idling here like ragged -clients." - -Balthasar joined her, soft-footed and debonair, his black eyes shining -behind his mask. - -"Peter kept Paul before the gate of heaven," quoth he, with a curl of -the lip. "Sforza is a meddler in many matters, a god-busied Mercury. -As for me, I am content." - -Their hands touched, and intertwined with a quick straining of the -fingers. - -"Pah," said the woman with a shiver, "this room is like a funeral -litter; it chills my marrow." - -Balthasar sniggered. - -"See, the sky burns," he said; "yon garden is packed with colour. We -could play a love chase amid those dark hedges of yew." - -She pressed her flank to his; her eyes glittered like amethysts; her -breath hastened. - -"My mouth, man." - -She pouted out her full red lips to his; suffered his arms to possess -her; they kissed often, and were out of breath. A door creaked. The -two started asunder in the shadows with an impatient stare into each -other's eyes. - -Sforza the Gonfaloniere stood on the threshold, clad plainly in a suit -of black velvet, with a sword buckled at his side. He bowed over -Duessa's hand, kissed her finger tips, excusing himself the while for -the delay. He was very suave, very facile, as was his wont. The Lady -Duessa took his excuses with good grace, remembering their compact, and -the common purpose of their ambitions. - -"Gonfaloniere, we wait our initiation." - -Sforza's eyes were fixed on Balthasar with a keen and ironical glitter. - -"Very good, madame." - -"Remember; Lord Flavian's head, that is to be my guerdon." - -"Madame, we will remember it. And this gentleman?" - -"Is the friend of whom I spoke." - -"A most loyal friend, methinks?" - -"True." - -The Gonfaloniere coughed behind his fingers, and spoke in his half-husky -tenor. - -"You are ready to risk everything?" - -Duessa reassured him. - -"Expect no blood and thunder ceremonial," he said to them; "we are grim -folk, but very simple. Your presence will incriminate you both. Be -convinced of that." - -He led them by a little closet into the state-room of the palace, a rich -chamber lit by many tapers, its doorway held by a guard of armed men. -Statues in the antique gleamed in the alcoves. The panelling shone with -gem-brilliant colouring. Armoires and carved cabinets stood against the -walls. The ceiling was of purple, with the signs of the Zodiac in gold -thereon. - -In the centre of the room, before a slightly raised dais, stood a round -table inlaid with diverse-coloured stones. Scrolls, quills, and inkhorns -covered it. Some twoscore men were gathered round the table, staring -with masked faces at a map spread before them--a map showing all the -provinces of the south, with towns and castles marked in vermilion ink -thereon. A big man in a red cloak stood conning the parchment, pointing -out with a long forefinger certain marches to the masked folk about him. - -Sforza pointed Duessa and Balthasar to a carved bench by the wall. - -"Have the patience to listen for an hour," he said, turning to join the -men about the table. - -A silver bell tinkled, and a priest came forward to patter a few prayers -in Latin. At the end thereof, the masked Samson in the red cloak stood -forward on the dais with uplifted fist. Instant silence held throughout -the room. The man in red began to speak in deep, full-throated tones -that seemed to vibrate from his sonorous chest. - -His theme was the revolt, his arguments, the grim bleak facts that -bulked large in the brain of a leader of men. He dealt with realism, -with iron detail, and the strong suggestions of success. Revolt, in the -flesh, bubbled like lava at a crater's brim, seething to overflow and -scorch the land. It was plain that the speaker had great schemes, and a -will of adamant. His ardour ran down like a cataract, smiting into foam -the duller courage of the multitude. - -When he had ended his heroic challenge to the world, he took by the hand -a girl who stood unmasked at his side. She was clad all in white with a -cross of gold over her bosom, and her face shone nigh as pallid as her -mantle. The men around the table craned forward to get the better view -of her. Nor was it her temporal beauty alone that set the fanatical -chins straining towards her figure. There was a radiance as of other -worlds upon her forehead, a glamour of sanctity as though some sacred -lamp shed a divine lustre through all her flesh. - -At the moment that the man in the red mask had drawn the girl forward -beside him on the dais, Balthasar, with a stifled cry, had plucked the -Lady Duessa by the sleeve. She had started, and stared in the friar's -face as he spoke to her in a whisper, a scintillant malice gathering in -her eyes. Balthasar held her close to him by the wrist. They were -observed of none save by Fulviac, whose care it was to watch all men. - -As Balthasar muttered to her, Duessa's frame seemed to straighten, to -dilate, to stiffen. She did not glance at the friar, but sat staring at -the girl in white upon the dais. The Madonna of the chapel of Avalon had -risen before her as by magic; her dispossessor stood before her in the -flesh. Balthasar's tongue bore witness to the truth. In the packed -passion of a moment, Duessa remembered her shame, her dishonour, her -hunger for revenge. - -The girl upon the dais had been speaking to the men assembled round her -with the simple calm of one whose soul is assured of faith. For all her -fierce distraction each word had fallen into Duessa's brain like pebbles -into a well. A mocking, riotous scorn chuckled and leapt in her like -the laughter of some lewd faun. She heard not the zealous mutterings -that eddied through the room. Her eyes were fixed on the man in the red -cloak, as he bent to kiss the girl's slim hand. - -She saw Fulviac turn and point to a roll of parchment on the table. - -"We swim, sirs, or sink together," were his words; "there can be no -traitors to the cause. In three days we hoist our banner. In three -days Gilderoy shall rise. Sign, gentlemen, sign, in the name of God and -of our Lady." - -The leaders of Gilderoy crowded about the table where Prosper the -Preacher waited with quill and testament, Sforza standing with drawn -sword beside him. Fulviac had headed those who took the oath, and had -drawn back from the press on to the dais. Meanwhile Duessa, with -Balthasar muttering discretions in her ear, had skirted the black knot -of conspirators and come close upon Fulviac. While Sforza and the rest -were intent upon the scroll, she plucked the man in red by the sleeve, -and spoke to him in an undertone. - -"A word with you in an alcove." - -Fulviac stared, but drew aside from the group none the less and followed -her. She had moved to an oriel and sat down on the cushioned seat, her -black robe sweeping the crimson cloth. Fulviac stood and faced her, -thus closing her escape from the oriel. Midway between them and the -table, Balthasar stood biting his nails in sullen vexation, ignorant of -where the woman's headstrong passions might be bearing them. - -Duessa soon had Fulviac at the tongue's point. - -"You are the first man in this assemblage?" she had asked him. - -"Madame, that is so." - -"I have a truth to make known." - -"Unmask to me." - -She hesitated, then obeyed him. - -"Possibly I am known to you," she said. - -Fulviac stood back a step, and looked at her as a man might look at an -old love. A knot of wrinkles showed on his forehead. - -"Duessa of the Black Hair." - -"Ah, in the old days." - -"What would you now, madame?" - -"Let me see your face." - -"No." - -"You hold me at a disadvantage." - -"That is well. Tell me this tale of yours." - -His voice was cold as a frost, and there was an inclement look about him -that should have warned the woman had she been less blinded by her own -malice. She had lost her cunning in her fuming passion, and denounced -when she should have suggested, blurted the whole when a hint would have -sufficed her. - -"I was the Lord Flavian of Gambrevault's wife," she said. - -"That man!" - -"That devil!" - -Fulviac drew a deep breath. - -"Well?" he said. - -"The fellow has divorced me; I will tell you why. You are the man they -call Fulviac. It was you who took the Lord Flavian in an ambuscade, to -kill him, for the sake of Yeoland of Cambremont, who stands yonder. The -whole tale is mine. It was that girl who let the Lord Flavian escape -out of your hands. A fine fool she is making of you, my friend. A -saint, forsooth! Flavian of Avalon might sing you a strange song." - -Duessa took breath. She had prophesied passion, a volcanic outburst. -Fulviac leant against the wainscotting with folded arms, his masked face -impenetrable, and calm as stone. He stirred never a muscle. Duessa had -ventured forth into the deeps. - -The man thrust a question at her suddenly. - -"You can prove the truth of this?" - -Duessa pointed him to Fra Balthasar. - -"The priest can bear out my tale. I will beckon him." - -"Wait." - -"Ah!" - -"Does Sforza know of this?" - -"None know it, save I and yonder priest." - -"Then I uncover to you." - -He jerked his mask away, and stood half stooping towards her with a -peculiar lustre in his eyes. Duessa stared at him as at one risen from -the dead. Her face blanched and stiffened into a bleak, gaping terror, -and she could not speak. - -"Your tale dies with you." - -He smote her suddenly in the bosom with his poniard, smote her so -heavily that the blow dragged her to her knees. She screamed like a -trapped hare, pressed her hands over her bosom, blood oozing over them. -A last malevolence leapt into her eyes; she panted and strove to speak. - -"Listen, sirs, hear me----" - -Fulviac, standing over her like a Titan, smote her again to silence, and -for ever. With arms thrust upwards, she fell forward along the floor, -her white face hidden by her hood. A red ringlet curled away over the -polished oak. Fulviac had sprung away with jaw clenched, his face as -stone. He drew his sword, plucked Balthasar by the throat, hurled him -back against the wainscotting. - -"A spy, poniard him." - -The great room rushed into uproar; the guards came running from the -door. Fulviac had passed his sword through Balthasar's body. The friar -rolled upon the floor, yelping, and clutching at the swords that stabbed -him. It was soon over; not a moan, not a whimper. Sforza, white as a -corpse, gripped Fulviac by the shoulder. - -"Know you whom you have killed?" - -"Well enough, Gonfaloniere." - -"What means it?" - -"That I am a brave man." - -Sforza quailed from him and ran to the oriel, where several men had -lifted the woman in their arms. Her lustrous hair fell down from under -her hood; her hands, stained with her own blood, trailed limply on the -floor. She was a pathetic figure with her pale, fair face and drooping -lids. The men murmured as they held her, like some poor bird, still warm -and plastic, with the life but half flown from her body. - -Fulviac stood and looked down into her face. His sword still smoked -with Balthasar's blood. - -"Sirs," he said, and his strong voice shook, "hear me, I will tell you -the truth. Once I loved that woman, but she was evil, evil to the core. -To-night she came bringing discord and treachery amongst us. I have -done murder before God for the sake of the cause. Cover her face; it -was ever too fair to look upon. Heaven rest her soul!" - - - - - XXV - - -Two days had passed since the secret assembly in the house of Sforza, -Gonfaloniere of Gilderoy. They had buried Duessa and Balthasar by night -in the rose garden, by the light of a single lantern, with the fallen -petals for a pall. It was the evening before the day when the land -should rise in arms to overthrow feudal injustice and oppression. On -the morrow the great cliff would be desolate, its garrison marching -through the black pine woods on Avalon and Geraint. - -Towards eve, when the sky was clear as a single sapphire, Fulviac came -from his parlour seeking Yeoland, to find her little chamber empty. A -strange smile played upon his face as he looked round the room with -crucifix, embroidery frame, and prayer-desk, with rosary hung thereon. -He picked up her lute, thrummed the strings, and broke broodingly into -the sway of some southern song: - - "Ah, woman of love, - With the stars in the night, - I see thee above - In a circlet of light. - On the west's scarlet scutcheon - I mark thy device; - And the shade of the forest - Makes gloom of thine eyes, - God's twilight - To me." - - -He ended the stanza, kissed the riband, and set the lute down with a -certain quaint reverence. The postern stood open and admonished him. -He passed out down the cliff stairway to the forest. - -An indescribable peace pervaded the woods, a supreme silence such as the -shepherd on the hills knows when the stars beckon to his soul. Fulviac -walked slowly and thought the more. He felt the altitude of the forest -stillness as of miles of luminous, windless aether; he felt the -anguishing pathos of a woman's face; he felt the strangeness of the new -philosophy that appealed to his heart. Nothing is more fascinating than -watching a spiritual upheaval in one's own soul; watching some great -power breaking up the crust of custom and habit; pondering the while on -the eternal mysteries that baffle reason. - -He found Yeoland amid the pines. She had been to the forest grave and -was returning towards the cliff when the man met her. She seemed whiter -than was her wont, her dark eyes looking solemn and shadowy under their -sweeping lashes. She seemed marvellously fair, marvellously pure and -fragile, as she came towards him under the trees. - -Something in Fulviac's look startled her. Women are like the sea to the -cloudy moods of men, in that they catch every sun-ray and shadow. An -indefinite something in the man's manner made her restless and -apprehensive. She went near to him with questioning eyes and laid her -hand upon his arm. - -"You have had bad news?" - -"Nothing." - -"Something has troubled you?" - -"Perhaps." - -She looked at him pensively, a suspicion of reproach, pity, and -understanding in her eyes. - -"Is it remorse, your conscience?" - -"My conscience? Have I had one!" - -"You have a strong conscience." - -"_Deo gratias_. Then you have unearthed it, madame." - -A vein of infinite bitterness and melancholy seemed to glimmer in his -mood. It was a moment of self-speculation. The girl still looked up -into his face. - -"Why did you kill that woman?" - -"Why?" - -"Her dead face haunts me, I see it everywhere; there is some strange -shadow over my soul. O that I could get her last cry from my ears!" - -Fulviac, with a sudden burst of cynicism, broke into grim laughter, a -sound like the rattling of dry bones in a closet. The girl shrank away -with her lips twitching. - -"Why cannot you trust me with the truth?" - -"Truth is not always beneficent. It was a matter of policy, of -diplomacy." - -"Why?" - -"Discords are bad at the eleventh hour. That woman could have -half-wrecked our cause. It was policy to silence her and the man. I -made sure of it by killing them." - -Yeoland's face had a shadow of repugnance upon it; her eyes darkened. -The man seemed in a callous, scoffing humour; it was mere glittering -steel over the bitterness within. - -"You will tell me her name?" - -"What is it to you?" - -"She haunts me." - -"Forget her." - -"I cannot." - -"Have the truth if you will. She was the wife of the Lord Flavian of -Gambrevault." - -The girl stood motionless for a moment; then swayed away several steps -from Fulviac under the trees. One hand was at her throat; her voice -came in a whisper. - -"What did she tell you?" - -"Many things." - -"Quick, do they touch me?" - -Fulviac choked an oath, and played with his sword. - -"Then there was some truth in her?" he said. - -The girl grew imperious. - -"I command you to tell me all." - -"Madame, the woman declared you were a traitress, and that this -lordling, this Flavian of Gambrevault, loved you." - -"And you killed her----" - -"For your sake and the cause. She might have cast our Saint out of -heaven." - -Yeoland went back from him and leant against a tree, with her hands over -her eyes. Sunlight splashed down upon her dress; she shivered as in a -cold wind, and could not speak. Fulviac's voice, level and passionless, -questioned her as she stood and hid her face. - -"You let the Lord Flavian escape?" - -"I did." - -"Have you seen him since?" - -"I have." - -"Thanks for the truth." - -Her responses had come like chords smitten from the strings of a lute. -She started away from the tree and began to walk up and down, wringing -her hands. Her face was like the face of one in torture, and she seemed -to struggle for breath. - -"Fulviac, I could not kill the man." - -The words came like a wail. - -"He was young, and he besought me when your men were breaking down the -gate. What could I do, what could I do? He was young, and I let him go -by the postern and told you a lie. God help me, I told you a lie." - -The man watched her with arms folded. There was a look of deep -melancholy upon his face, as of one wounded by the truth. His voice was -sad but resolute. - -"And the rest?" - -She rallied suddenly and came to him with truth in her eyes; they were -wonderfully piteous and appealing. - -"God knows I have been loyal to you. The man tempted me, but I -withstood him; I kept my loyalty." - -"And you told him----?" - -"Nothing, nothing; he is as innocent as a child." - -Fulviac looked down at her with a great light in his eyes. He spoke -slowly and with a deeper intonation in his voice. - -"I have dealt with many bad women," he said, "but I believe you are -speaking the truth." - -"It is the truth." - -"I take it as such; you have been too much a woman." - -"Ah, if you could only forgive." - -He stepped forward suddenly, took her hands, and looked down at her with -a vast tenderness. - -"Little woman, if I told you I loved you, would you still swear that you -have spoken the truth?" - -"God judge me, Fulviac, I have been loyal." - -A strange light played upon his face. - -"And I, ye heavens, have I learnt my lesson in these later days? Girl, -you are above me as the stars; I may but kiss your hands, no more. You -are not for worldly ways, or for me. Battered, war-worn veteran, I have -come again by the heart of a boy. Fear me not, little woman, there is -no anger in a great love, only deep grieving and unalterable honour." - - - - - XXVI - - -It was dawn; mists covered the forest; not a wind stirred or sobbed amid -the boughs. A vast grey canopy seemed to tent the world, a mysterious -veil that tempered the sun and spread a spiritual gloom over rock and -tree. - -The noise of horns played through the misty aisles--horns many-tongued, -faint, clamorous, like the trumpeting of forest elves. There was the -dull, rhythmic onrush of many thousand feet, the hurrying, multitudinous -tramp of men marching. Armour gleamed through the glooms; casque and -bassinet, salade and cap of steel flowed on and on as phosphorescent -ripples on a subterranean stream. Pike, glaive, gisarme shone like -stubble over the forest slopes. The sullen tramp of men, the clashing -clamour of arms, the blaring of a solitary clarion, such were songs of -the great pine forest on that July morning. - -Yeoland, rebel lady and saint, on a great white horse, rode at Fulviac's -side in full armour, save for her helmet. Her horse was cased in -steel--chamfron, crinet, gorget, poitrel, croupiere gleaming like -burnished silver. She made a fine and martial figure enough, a -glittering dawn star for a heroic cause. About her rode her guard, the -pick of Fulviac's men, some fifty spears in all, masses of steel, each -bearing a scarlet cross blazoned upon his white jupon. Nord of the -Hammer bore the red banner worked by the girl's own hands. They were -hardy men and big of bone, sworn to keep and guard her to the death. - -Fulviac and Yeoland rode side by side like brothers in arms. All about -them were rolling spears and rocking helmets moving among the myriad -trees. The sound of arms surged round them like the ominous onrush of a -sea. War followed like a thunder-cloud on their heels. - -Fulviac was in great spirits, somewhat solemn and philosophic, but full -of the exultation of a man who feels his ship surging on the foaming -backs of giant billows. His eyes were proud enough when they scanned the -girl at his side. His heart thundered an echo to the grim tramp of his -men on the march. - -"To-day," he said, making grandiose flourishes with his sword, "the -future unrobes to us. We plunge like Ulysses into the unknown. This is -life with a vengeance!" - -She had a smile on her lips and a far-away look in her eyes. - -"If you love me," she said, "be merciful." - -"Ah, you are always a woman." - -"There are many women such as I am; there are many hearts that may be -wounded; there are many children." - -He looked at her meditatively, as though her words were both bitter and -sweet in his mouth. - -"You must play the philosopher, little woman; remember that we work for -great ends. I will have mercy when mercy is expedient. But we must -strike, and strike terror, we must crush, we must kill." - -"Yet be merciful." - -"War is no pastime; men grip with gauntlets of iron, not with velvet -gloves. Fanaticism, hate, revenge, patriotism, lust of plunder, and the -rest, what powers are these to let loose upon a land! We have the -oppression of centuries red in our bosoms. War is no mere subtle game -of chess; the wolf comes from the wilderness; the vulture swings in the -sky. Fire, death, blood, rapine, and despair, such are the elements of -war." - -"I know, I know." - -"To purge a field, we burn the crop. To convert, we set swords leaping. -To cleanse, we let in the sea. To move the fabrics of custom and the -past, a man must play the Hercules. God crushes great nations to insure -the inevitable evolution of His will. To move the world, one must play -the god." - -It was noon when the vanguard cleared the trees, and spread rank on rank -over the edge of a moor. A zealous sun shone overhead, and the world -was full of light and colour, the heather already a blaze of purple, the -bracken still virgin, the dense dark pines richly green against the -white and azure of the sky. - -Fulviac, Yeoland, and her guards rode out to a hillock and took station -under the banner of the Cross. The forest belched steel; rank on rank -swept out with pikes glittering; shields shone, and colours juggled -mosaics haphazard. Horse and foot rolled out into the sun, and gathered -in masses about the scarlet banner and the girl in her silvery harness -on the great white horse. The forest shadows were behind them, they had -cast off its cloak; the world lay bare to their faces; they were hurling -their challenge in the face of Fate. Every man in the mass might well -have felt the future glowing upon his brain, might well conceive himself -a hero and a patriot. It was a deep, sonorous shout that rolled up, -when a thousand points of steel smote upwards to the heavens. Yeoland, -amid her guards, had dim visions of the power vested in her slender -sword. Where her banner flew, there brave men would toss their pikes -with a cheer for the charge home. Where her sword pointed, a thousand -blades would leap to do her bidding. Even as she pondered these things, -the trumpets sounded and the men of the forest marched on. - -Fulviac's plans had been matured but a week. His opening of the -campaign was briefly as follows. He was bearing north-west towards -Geraint, and Geraint was to rise that night, massacre the King's -garrison, and come out to him. Avalon lay in Fulviac's path. He was to -smite a blow at it on his march, surprise the place if possible, and -then hold on for Geraint. The same night, Gilderoy would rise; the -castellan, who was with the townsfolk, would open the gates of the -castle and deliver up all arms and the siege train that was kept there. -From Geraint, Fulviac trusted to ride on with a single troop to take -command at Gilderoy, leaving Nord, Prosper, and the girl Yeoland in -command at Geraint. With his numbers raised to some twenty thousand -men, he would have his force divided into two bodies--ten thousand at -Gilderoy, ten thousand at Geraint. These two bodies would sweep up by -forced marches, converge on Gambrevault, crush the Lord Flavian's small -armament, shut him up in his castle. Assault or leaguer would do the -rest. Meanwhile the peasantry would rise and flock in to the standard -of the people. - -Free of the forest, Fulviac sent on a troop of horse towards Geraint to -warn the townsfolk of his advance. With the main mass of the foot, he -held northwards over hill and dale, and towards evening touched the hem -of the oak woods that wrapped the manor of Avalon. The place was but -feebly garrisoned, as the Lord Flavian had withdrawn most of his men to -Gambrevault, dreaming little of the thunder-storm that was shadowing the -land. - -Fulviac had his plan matured. Fifty men-at-arms in red and green, the -Gambrevault colours, were to advance with a forged pennon upon the -place, as though sent as a reinforcement from Gambrevault. The main -body would follow at a distance and lie ambushed in the woods. If the -ruse answered, and it was an old trick enough, the barbican and gate -could be held till Fulviac came up and made matters sure. Thus Avalon -would fall, proto-martyr on the side of feudalism. - -Nor were Fulviac's prognostications at fault. There were not sixty men -in Avalon, and Fulviac's fifty gained footing in the place and held -their ground till the rest came up. The affair was over, save for some -desultory slaughter on the turrets, when Fulviac galloped forward over -the meadows with Yeoland and her guard. The man kept the girl on the -further side of the moat, and did not suffer her to stumble too suddenly -on the realities of war. He feared wisely her woman's nature, and did -not desire to overshock her senses. The butchery was over when they -neared the walls. They heard certain promiscuous yelpings, and saw half -a dozen men-at-arms, who had made a last stand on a tower, tumbled -headlong over the battlements into the moat below. Fulviac did not -suffer the girl to cross the bridge. What passed within was hidden by -the impenetrable massiveness of the sullen walls. - -Thus Avalon, fair castle of the woods and waters, sent out her wistful -prophecy to the land. In her towers and galleries men lay dead, bleak -and stiff, contorted into fantastic attitudes, with pike or sword -sucking their vitals. Blood crept down the stairs; dead men cumbered the -beds and jammed the doors. There had been much screaming among the -women; even Fulviac's orders could not cool the passions of the mob; it -was well indeed that he kept Yeoland innocent in the meadows. - -Fanaticism, ignorance, lust were loose in Avalon like evil beasts. All -its fairness was defamed in one short hour. Hangings were torn down, -furniture wrecked and shattered, chests and cupboards spoiled of all -their store. In the chapel, where refugees had fled to the altar, there -had been slaughter, merciless and brutal. Bertrand, the old knight and -seneschal, lay dead on the altar steps, with a broken sword and fifty -rents in his carcase. Men were breaking the images, defacing the -frescoes, strewing all the place with blood and riot. Nord of the -Hammer stood over the cellar door with his great mace over his shoulder, -and kept the men from the wine. Elsewhere the mob rooted like a herd of -swine in the rich chambers, and worked to the uttermost its swinish -will. - -When the day was past, Fulviac and his men, as hounds that have tasted -blood, marched on exultantly towards Geraint. Night and great silence -settled down over Avalon. The woods watched like a host of plaintive -mourners over the scene. The moon rose and shone on the glimmering mere -and swooning lilies, and streamed in through shattered casements on men -sleeping in their blood, on ruin, and the ghastly shape of death. - - - - - XXVII - - -Gilderoy had risen. - -It was midnight. A great bell boomed and clashed over the city, with a -roar of many voices floating on the wind, like the sullen thunder of a -rising sea. Torches flashed and ebbed along the streets, with hundreds -of scampering shadows, and a glinting of steel. Knots of armed men -hurried towards the great piazza, where, by the City Cross, Sforza the -Gonfaloniere and his senators had gathered about the red and white -Gonfalon of the Commune. All the Guild companies were there with their -banners and men-at-arms. "Fulviac," "Saint Yeoland," "Liberty and the -Commune": such were the watchwords that filled the mouths of the mob. - -Cressets had burst into flame on the castle's towers, lighting a lurid -firmament; while from the steeps of the city, where stood the palaces of -the nobles, smoke and flame began to rush ominously into the night. -Waves of hoarse ululations seemed to sweep the city from north, south, -east, and west. Trumpets were clanging in the castle, drums beating, -fifes braying. Through the indescribable chaos the great bell smote on, -throbbing through the minutes like the heart of a god. - -It will be remembered that the Lord Flavian was in Gilderoy for the -purchasing of arms. At midnight you would have found him in his state -bed-chamber in the abbot's palace, tugging at his hose, fumbling at his -points and doublet, buckling on his sword. He was hardly awake with the -single taper winking in the gloom. The shrill ululations of the mob -sounded through the house, with the clash of swords and the crash of -hammers. The Lord Flavian craned from the window, saw what he could, -heard much, and wondered if hell had broken loose. - -"Fulviac and the Commune!" - -"Saint Yeoland!" - -"Down with the lords, down with the priests!" - -The man at the window heard these cries, and puzzled them out in his -peril. Certainly he was a lord; therefore unpopular. And Yeoland! -Wherefore was that name sounding on the tongues of brothel-mongers and -cooks! Was he still dreaming? Certes, these rallying-cries carried a -certain blunt hint, advising him that he would have to care for his own -skin. - -Malise, his page, knelt at the door with his ear to the key-hole. The -boy was in his shirt and breeches, and trembling like an aspen. Flavian -stood over him. They heard a rending sound as of a gate giving, a roar -as of water breaking through a dam, a yelp, a scream or two, a confused -medley of many voices. - -Flavian told Malise to open the door and look out into the gallery. He -did so. A man, more zealous than the rest, sprang out of the dark and -stabbed at the lad's throat. He fell with a whimper. Flavian plunged -his sword home, dragged Malise within, barred the door again. Very -tenderly he lifted the boy in his arms. Malise's hands clung about his -lord's neck; he moaned a little, and was very white. - -"Save yourself, messire!" - -Flavian bore him towards a door that stood open in the panelling. He -felt the lad's blood soaking through his doublet; entreaties were poured -into his ears. - -"I die, I die; oh, the smart, the burn of it! Leave me, messire; let me -lie still!" - -"Nonsense----" - -"It is no use; I have it deep, the man's knife went home." - -Flavian felt the lad's hands relax, saw his head droop on his shoulder. -He turned and put him down on the bed, and knelt there, while Malise -panted and strove to speak. - -"Go--messire." - -Flavian was trying to staunch the flow from the boy's neck with a corner -of the sheeting. His own doublet was drenched with blood. In a minute -he saw the futility of such unconscious heroism; the flickering taper by -the bed told that Malise's life would ebb before its own light would be -gutted. Blows were being dealt upon the door. Flavian kissed the lad, -took the taper, and passed out by the panel in the wainscotting. - -A stairway led him to a little gate that opened on the abbot's garden. -He more than thought to find the passage disputed, but the place -stretched quiet before him as he came out with sword drawn. The scent -of the flowers and fragrant shrubs was heavy on the night air, and the -shouts of the mob sounded over the black roofs, and rang in his ears -with an inspiriting fury. - -There was a gate at the far end of the garden, opening through a stone -wall into a narrow alley, and Flavian, as he scoured the paths, could -see pike points bobbing above the wall, and a flare of torches. Men -were breaking in even here, and he was caught like a rat in a corner. -In an angle of the wall he found a big marrow bed, and crawling under -the leaves like a worm, he smeared dirt over his face and clothes and -awaited developments. In another minute the garden gate fell away, and -a tatterdemalion rout poured in, strenuous and frothy as any tavern -pack. They spread over the garden towards the house, shouting and -blaspheming like a herd of satyrs. Flavian saw his chance, plunged from -his dark corner, and joined the mob of moving figures. Dirty face and -dirtier clothes were in kindred keeping. He shouted as lustily as any, -and by dint of gradual and discreet circumlocutions, edged to the gate -and escaped into the now-deserted alley. - -Running on, he skirted the abbey and came out into the square that -flanked the abbey church, and the great gate. A hundred torches seemed -moving behind the abbey windows. The square teemed and smoked with -riot. Flavian went into the crowd with drawn sword, screeching out mob -cries like any huckster, smiting men on the back, laughing and swearing -as in excellent humour. His gusto saved him. As he passed through the -mob he saw heads, gory and mangled, dancing upon pikes; he saw women -drunk with beer and violence, waving a severed foot or hand, kissing -men, hugging each other, mouthing unutterable obscenities in the mad -delirium of the hour. He saw whelps of boys scrambling and struggling -for some ghastly relic; scavengers and sweeps dressed up in the habits -of the Benedictines they had slain. One man carried in his palm an eye -that had been torn from its socket, which he held with a leer in the -faces of his fellows. Further still, he saw half a dozen beggars -dragging the dead body of a lady over the stones by cords fastened to -the ankles, while dogs worried and tore at the flesh. He learnt -afterwards that it was the body of his own cousin, a young girl who had -been lately betrothed. Last of all, he saw a carcase dangling from a -great iron lamp bracket in the centre of the square, and understood from -the crowd that it was the body of the abbot, his uncle. Men and women -were pelting it with offal. - -And he, an aristocrat of aristocrats, dirty and dishevelled, rubbed -shoulders with the scourings of the gutter, shouted their shouts, echoed -their exultation. At first the grim humour of the thing smote him in -grosser farcical fashion; but the mood was not for long. He remembered -Malise, whimpering and quivering in his arms; he remembered the body -dragged about the square and worried by dogs; he remembered the carcase -swinging by the rope; he remembered the dripping heads and the fragments -of flesh tossed about by the maddened and intoxicated mob. It was then -that his eyes grew hot with shame and his blood ran like lava through -his veins. It was then that the spirit of a vampire rushed into his -heart, and that he swore great solemn oaths by all the bones and relics -of the saints. God give him a hale body out of Gilderoy, and this city -scum should be scourged with iron and roasted by fire. - -He got across the square by dint of his noisy hypocrisy, and turned -morosely into a dark alley that led towards the walls. Hot-hearted -gentleman, the mere panic-stricken thirst for existence had cooled out -of him, and he was in a fine, rendering passion to his finger-tips, a -striding, blasphemous temper, that longed to take the whole city by the -throat and beat a fist in its bloated face. He wondered what had become -of his knights, esquires, and men-at-arms. It was told him in later days -how they died fighting in the abbey refectory, died with the -Benedictines at their side, and a rare barrier of corpses to tell of the -swing of their swords. - -Flavian dodged into a dark porch to consider his circumstances and the -baffling influence of the same. He had caught enough from the mob to -comprehend what had occurred, and what was to follow. Certainly for -many months he had heard rumours, but, like other demigods, he had -turned a deaf ear and smiled like a Saturn. The largeness of the -upheaval stupefied him at first; now, as he pondered it, it gave a more -heroic colour to his passions. - -To be free of Gilderoy: that was the necessity. He guessed shrewdly -enough that the gates would be well guarded. And the walls! He smote -his thigh and remembered where the river coursed round the rocky -foundations, and washed the walls. A big plunge, a swim, and he would -have liberty enough and to spare. - -He set off instanter down alleys and byways, through the most -poverty-stricken quarter of the city. The place had a hundred stenches -on a hot summer night. Naturally enough, such haunts were deserted, -save for a few hags garrulous at the doorways, and a few fragments of -dirt, called by courtesy, children. The rats had gone marauding, -leaving their offal heaps empty. - -Keen as a fox, he threaded on, and came before long to the walls, a -black mass, rising above the hovels packed like pigsties to the very -ramparts. Avoiding a tower, he held along a lane that skirted the wall, -looking for one of the many stairways leading to the battlements. It -was here, in the light of a tavern window, that he came plump upon two -sweaty artisans, rendered somewhat more gross and insolent by the fumes -of liquor. The men challenged Flavian with drunken arrogance; they had -their password, to the devil. All the accumulated viciousness of an hour -tingled in his sword arm. He fell upon the men like a Barak, kicked one -carcase into the gutter, and ran on. - -He was soon up a stairway, and on the walls, finding them absolutely -deserted. The city stretched behind him, a black chaos, emitting a grim -uproar, its dark slopes chequered here and there with angry flame. -Before him swept the river, and he heard it swirling amid the reeds. -Further still, meadows lay open to the stars, and in the distance stood -solemn woods and heights, touched with the silver of the sky. - -He moved on to where a loop of the river curled up to wash the walls. -The water was in full flood at the place, and he heard it gurgling -cheerily against the stones. Flavian took a last look at Gilderoy, its -castle red with burning cressets, its multitudinous roofs, its uproar -like the noise of a nest of hornets. He shook his fist over the city, -climbed the battlements, jumped for it, plunged like a log, came up -spluttering to strike out for the further bank. - -In the meadows the townsfolk kept horses at graze. Flavian, aglow to the -finger-tips, with water squelching from his shoes, caught a cob that was -hobbled in a field hard by the river. He unhobbled the beast, hung on -by the mane, mounted, and set off bare-back for the road to Gambrevault. - - - - - XXVIII - - -Dawn climbing red over pinewoods piled on the hills; dawn optimistic yet -ominous, harbinger of war and such perils as set the heart leaping and -the blood afire; dawn that cried unto the world, "Better one burst of -heroism and then the grave, than a miserable monotony of nothingness, a -domestic surfeiting of the senses with a wife and a fat larder." - -Out of the east climbed the man on the stolen horse, riding out of the -dawn with the lurid phantasms of the night still running riot in his -brain. No sleep had smoothed the crumpled page, or touched the memory -with unguent to assuage the smart. Maledictions, vengeances, prophecies -of fire and sword rushed with the red dawn over the hills. - -With forty miles behind him, he came on his jaded, sweaty beast towards -his own castle of Gambrevault, forded his own stream, saw his mills -gushing foam, heard the thunder of the weir. How eternally peaceful -everything seemed in the dewy amber light of the dawn! Away rolled the -downs, billows of glorious green, into the west. Gambrevault's towers -rose against the blue; he saw the camp in the meadows; his own banner -blowing to the breeze. - -The meadows that morning were quiet as a graveyard, as the Lord Flavian -rode through to the great gate of Gambrevault. Soldiers idling about, -stiffened up, saluted, stared in astonishment at the grim, morose-faced -man, who rode by on a foundered horse, looking neither to the right hand -nor the left. He cut something of a figure, as though he had been in a -tavern brawl, and had spent the night snoring in a cow-house. Yet there -was an indescribable power and dignity in the tatterdemalion rider for -all his tumbled look. The compressed lips, knotted brow, smouldering -eyes spoke of phenomenal emotions, phenomenal passions. Not a man -cheered, and the silence was yet more eloquent than clamour. He rode in -by the great gate, and parrying the blank glances and interrogations of -his knights, called for two esquires, and withdrew to his own state -rooms. - -His first trouble was to acknowledge such necessities as hunger and -cleanliness. He contrived to compass both at once, eating ravenously -even while he was in the bath. His next command was for his harness, and -his esquires armed him, agog for news, even waxing inquisitive, to be -snubbed for their pains. - -"Assemble my knights and gentlemen in the great hall," ran his order, -and after praying awhile in his own private oratory, he passed down to -join the assemblage, solemn and soul-burdened as a young Jove. - -There is a certain vain satisfaction in being the possessor of some -phenomenal piece of news, wherewith to astonish a circle of friends. -The dramatic person blurts it out like a stage duke; the real epicure -lets it filter through his teeth in fragments, watching with a twinkling -satisfaction its effect upon his hearers. The Lord Flavian's -revelations that morning were deliberate and gradual, leisurely in the -extreme. Many a man waxes flippant or cynical when his feelings are -deep and sincere, and he is disinclined to bare his heart to the world. -Flavian addressed his assembled knights with a certain stinted and -pedantic courtliness; when they had warmed to his level, then he could -indulge his sympathies to the full. The atmosphere about those who wait -to hear our experiences or opinions is often like cold water, somewhat -repellent till the first plunge has been tried. - -"Gentlemen," he said, "I regret to inform you that the Abbot Porphyry, -my uncle, is numbered with the saints." - -So much for the first confession; it elicited a sympathetic murmur from -those assembled, a very proper and respectable expression of feeling, -but nothing passionate. - -"I also have to inform you, with much Christian resignation, that Sir -Jordan and Sir Kay, Malise, my page, and some twenty men-at-arms are in -all human probability dead." - -This time some glimmer of light pervaded the hall. There was still -mystification, silence, and an exchanging of glances. - -"Finally, gentlemen, I may confess to you that a great insurrection is -afoot in the land; that Gilderoy has declared against the King and the -nobility; that the scum of a populace has made a great massacre of the -magnates; that I, gentlemen, by the grace of God, have escaped to preach -to you of these things." - -A chorus of grim ejaculations came from the knights and the captains -assembled. Astonishment, and emotions more durable, showed on every -face. Flavian gained heat, and let his tongue have liberty; at the end -of ten minutes of fervid oratory, the men were as wise as their lord and -every wit as vicious. Gilderoy had signalised her rising in blood; mob -rule had been proclaimed; the peasantry and townsfolk had thrown down -the glove to the nobles. These were bleak, plain facts, that touched to -the quick the men who stood gathered in the great hall of Gambrevault. -Not a sword was in its scabbard when Modred's deep voice gave the cry-- - -"God and St. Philip--for the King." - -Then like a powder bag flung into a fire came the news of the storming -and wrecking of Avalon. A single man-at-arms had escaped the slaughter, -escaped by crawling down an offal shoot and hiding till the rebels -evacuated the place and marched under cover of night for Geraint. The -man had crept out and fled on foot from the stricken place for -Gambrevault. It was a tramp of ten leagues, but he had stuck to it -through the night like a Trojan, and, knowing the road well, had reached -Gambrevault before the sun was at noon. They brought him before Flavian -and the rest, fagged to the fifth toe, and hardly able to stand. He -told the whole tale, as much as he knew of it, in a blunt yet dazed way. -His senses appeared numbed by the deeds that had been done that night. - -Flavian leant back in his escutcheoned chair, and gnawed at his lip. -This last thrust had gone home more keenly than the rest. That castle -of lilies, Avalon the fair, was but a friend of wood and stone, yet a -friend having wondrous hold upon his heart. He had been born there, and -under the shadows of its towers his mother had taken her last sacrament. -Men can love a tree, a cottage, a stream; Flavian loved Avalon as being -the temple of the unutterable memories of the past. Desolation and -ruin! Bertrand, his old master at arms, slain! He sprang up like an -Achilles with the ghost of Patroclus haunting his soul. - -"Gentlemen, shall these things pass? Hear me, God and the world, hear -my oath sworn in this my castle of Gambrevault. May I never rest till -these things are reprieved in blood, till there are too few men to bury -the dead. Though my walls fall, and my towers totter, though I win ruin -and a grave, I swear by the Sacrament to do such deeds as shall ring and -resound in history." - -So they went all of them together, and swore by the body and blood of -the Lord to take such vengeance as the sword alone can give to the hot -passions of mankind. - -That noon there was much stir and life in Gambrevault. The camp hummed -like a wasp's nest when violence threatens; the men were ready to run to -arms on the first sounding of the trumpet. Armourers and farriers were -at work. Flavian had sent out two companies of light horse to -reconnoitre towards Gilderoy and Geraint. They had orders not to draw -rein till they had sure view of such rebel voices as were on the march; -to hang on the horizon; to watch and follow; to send gallopers to -Gambrevault; on no account to give battle. Companies were despatched to -drive in the cattle from the hills, and to bring in fodder. The -Gambrevault mills were emptied of flour, and burnt to the ground, in -view of their being of use to the rebels in case of a siege. Certain -cottages and outhouses under the castle walls were demolished to leave -no cover for an attacking force. The cats, tribocs, catapults, and -bombards upon the battlements were overhauled, and cleared for a siege. - -Towards evening, human wreckage began to drift in from the country, -bearing lamentable witness to the thoroughness of Fulviac's -incendiarism. Gambrevault might have stood for heaven by the strange -scattering of folk who came to seek its sanctuary. Fire and sword were -abroad with a vengeance; cottars, borderers, and villains had risen in -the night; treachery had drawn its poniard; even the hound had snapped -at its master's hand. - -Many pathetic figures passed under the great arch of Gambrevault gate -that day. First a knight came in on horseback, a baby in his arms, and -a woman clinging behind him, sole relics of a home. Margaret, the -grey-haired countess of St. Anne's, was brought in on a litter by a few -faithful men-at-arms; her husband and her two sons were dead. Young -Prosper of Fountains came in on a pony; the lad wept like a girl when -questioned, and told of a mother and a sire butchered, a home sacked and -burnt. There were stern faces in Gambrevault that day, and looks more -eloquent than words. "Verily," said Flavian to Modred the Strong, "we -shall have need of our swords, and God grant that we use them to good -purpose." - -So night drew near, and still no riders had come from the companies that -had ridden out to reconnoitre towards Gilderoy and Geraint. Flavian had -had a hundred duties on his hands: exercising his courtesy to the -refugees, condoling, reassuring; inspecting the defences and the siege -train; superintending the victualling of the place. He had ordered his -troops under arms in the meadows, and had spoken to them of what had -passed at Gilderoy, and what might be looked for in the future. There -seemed no lack of loyalty on their part. Flavian had ever been a -magnanimous and a generous overlord, glad to be merciful, and no -libertine at the expense of his underlings. His feudatories were bound -to him by ties more strong than mere legalities. They cheered him -loudly enough as he rode along the lines in full armour, with fifty -knights following as his guard. - -Night came. Outposts had been pushed forward to the woods, and a strong -picket held the ford across the river. On the battlements guards went to -and fro, and clarions parcelled out the night, and rang the changes. In -the east there was a faint yellowish light in the sky, a distant glare -as of a fire many miles away. In the camp men were ready to fly to arms -at the first thunder of war over the hills. - -Flavian held a council in the great hall, a council attended by all his -knights and captains. They had a great map spread upon the table, a -chart of the demesnes of Gambrevault and Avalon, and the surrounding -country. Their conjectures turned on the possible intentions of the -rebels, whether they would venture on a campaign in the open, or lie -snug within walls and indulge in raids and forays. And then--as to the -loyalty of their own troops? On this point Flavian was dogmatic, having -a generous and over-boyish heart, not quick to credit others with -treachery. - -"I would take oath for my own men," he said; "their fathers have served -my fathers; I have never played the tyrant; there is every reason to -trust their loyalty." - -An old knight, Sir Tristram, had taken a goodly share in the debate, a -veteran from the barons' wars, and a man of honest experience, no mere -pantaloon. His grey beard swept down upon his cuirass; his deep-set -eyes were full of intelligence under his bushy brows; the hands that -were laid upon the table were clawed and deformed by gout. - -"Gentlemen," he said, "I have not the fitness and youth of many of you, -but I can lay claim to some wisdom in war. To my liege lord, whom, -sirs, I honour as a man of soul, I would address two proverbs. First, -despise not, sire, your enemies." - -Modred laughed in his black beard. - -"Reverence the scum of Gilderoy?" - -"Ha, man, if we are well advised, these folk have been breathed upon by -fanaticism. I tell you, I have seen a meanly-born crowd make a very -stubborn day of it with some of the best troops that ever saw service. -Secondly, sire, I would say to you, turn off your mercenaries if the sky -looks black; never trust your neck to paid men when any great peril -threatens." - -Flavian, out of his good sense, agreed with Tristram. - -"Your words are weighty," he said. "So long as we are campaigning, I -will pay them well and keep them. If it comes to a siege, I will have -no hired bravos in Gambrevault. And now, gentlemen, it is late; get -what sleep you may, for who knows what may come with the morrow. Modred -and Geoffrey, I leave to you the visiting of the outposts to-night. -Order up my lutists and flute-players; I shall not sleep without a -song." - -He passed alone to the outer battlements, and let the night expand about -his soul, the stars touch his meditations. From the minstrels' gallery -in the hall came the wail of viols, the voices of flute, dulcimer and -bassoon keeping a mellow under-chant. He heard the sea upon the rocks, -saw it glimmering dimly to end in a fringe of foam. - -So his thoughts soared to the face of one woman in the world, the golden -Eve peering out of Paradise, whose soul seemed to ebb and flow like the -moan of the distant music. He fell into deep forecastings of the -future. He remembered her words to him, her mysterious warnings, her -inexplicable inconsistencies, her appeal to war. Gilderoy had taught him -much, and some measure of truth shone like a dawn spear in the east. A -gulf of war and vengeance stretched from his feet. Yet he let his soul -circle like a golden moth about the woman's beauty, while the wail of -the viols stole out upon his ears. - - - - - XXIX - - -Little store of sleep had the Lord of Gambrevault that night. War with -all its echoing prophecies played through his thought as a storm wind -through the rotting casements of a ruin. He beheld the high hills red -with beacons, the valleys filled with the surging steel of battle. -Gilderoy and its terrors flamed through his brain. Above all, like the -moon from a cloud shone the face of Yeoland, the Madonna of the Forest. - -He was up and armed before dawn, and on the topmost battlements, eager -for the day. The sun came with splendour out of the east, hurling a -golden net over the woods piled upon the hills. Mists moved from off -the sea, that shimmered opalescent towards the dawn. Brine laded the -breeze. The waves were scalloped amber and purple, fringed with foam -about the agate cliffs. - -The hours were void to the man till riders should come in with tidings -of how the revolt sped at Gilderoy and Geraint. The prophetic hints -that had been tossed to him from the tongues of the mob had served to -discover to him his own invidious fame. Gambrevault, on its rocky -headland, stood, the strongest castle in the south, a black mass looming -athwart the perilous path of war. The rebels would smite at it. Of that -its lord was assured. - -At noon he attended mass in the chapel, with all his knights, solacing -his impatience with the purer aspirations of the soul. It was even as -he left the chapel that Sir Modred met him, telling how a galloper had -left the woods and was cantering over the meadows towards the headland. -The man was soon under the arch of the great gate, his sweating horse -smiting fire from the stones, dropping foam from his black muzzle. The -rider was Godamar, Flavian's favourite esquire, a ruddy youth, with the -heart of a Jonathan. - -Modred brought him to the banqueting-hall, where Flavian awaited him in -full harness, two trumpeters at his back. - -"Sire, Geraint has risen." - -"Ha!" - -"They are marching on Gambrevault." - -"Your news, on with it." - -Godamar told how the troop had neared Geraint at eve and camped in the -wood over night. At dawn they had reconnoitred the town, and seen, to -their credit, black columns of "foot" pouring out by all the gates. The -Gambrevault company had fallen back upon the woods unseen, and had -watched the Gerainters massing in the city meadows about a red banner -and one in armour upon a white horse. Godamar had lain low in a thicket -and watched the rebels march by in the valley. They had passed between -two hundred paces of him, and he swore by Roland the Paladin that it was -a woman who rode the great white horse. - -Flavian had listened to the man with a golden flux of fancy that had -divined something of the esquire's meaning. - -"Godamar," he said. - -"Sire?" - -"You rode with me that day when we tracked a certain lady from -Cambremont glade towards the pine forest." - -"Sire, you forestall me in thought." - -"So?" - -"I could even swear upon my sword that it is Yeoland of Cambremont who -rides with the Gerainters." - -Flavian coloured and commended him. Godamar ran on. - -"I threaded the thicket, sire, made a detour, galloped hard and rejoined -our company. The Gerainters were blind as bats; they had never a scout -to serve them. We kept under cover and watched their march. They came -due west in three columns, one following the other. Six miles from -Geraint, Longsword gave me a spare horse and sent me spurring to bring -you the news." - -Flavian stroked his chin and brooded. - -"Their numbers?" he asked anon. - -"Ten thousand men, sire, we guessed it such." - -Before Godamar had ended his despatch, a second galloper came in -breathless from Gilderoy. He had left Fulviac's rebels massing in the -meadows beyond the river, and had kept cover long enough to see the -foremost column wheel westwards and take the road for Gambrevault. The -scout numbered the Gilderoy force at anything between eight and twelve -thousand pikes. Fulviac had been on the march three hours. - -The Lord of Avalon stood forward in the oriel in the full light of the -sun. Sea, hill, and woodland stretched before him under a peerless sky. -There was the scent of brine in the breeze, the banner of youth was -ablaze upon the hills. A red heart beat under his shimmering cuirass, -red blood flushed his brain. It was a season of romance and of lusty -daring, an hour when his manhood shone bright as his burnished sword. - -Thoughts were tumbling, moving over his mind like water over a wheel. -Geraint stood ten leagues from Gambrevault, Gilderoy thirteen. The -Geraint forces had been on the march six hours or more, the men of -Gilderoy only three. Hence, by all the craft of Araby, they of Geraint -were three hours and three leagues to the fore. Bad generalship without -doubt, but vastly prophetic to the man figuring in the oriel, his -fingers drumming on the stone sill. - -Strategy stirred in him, and waxed like a dragon created from some magic -crystal into the might of deeds. The Lord of Gambrevault caught the -strong smile of chivalry. A great venture burnt upon his sword. It was -no uncertain voice that rang through the hall of Gambrevault. - -"Gentlemen, to horse! Trumpets, blow the sally! Let every man who can -ride, mount and follow me to-day. Blow, trumpets, blow!" - -The brazen throats brayed from the walls, their shrill scream echoing -and echoing amid the distant hills. Their message was like the plunging -of a boulder into a pool, smiting to foam and clamour the camp in the -meadows. Swords were girded on, spears plucked from the sods, horses -saddled and bridled in grim haste. In one short, stirring hour Flavian -rode out from Gambrevault with twelve hundred steel-clad riders at his -back. Those on the walls watched this mass of fire and colour -thundering over the meadows, splashing through the ford, smoking away to -the east with trumpets clanging, banneroles adance. There was to be -great work done that day. The sentinels on the walls gossiped together, -and swore by their lord as he had been the King. - -Gambrevault and its towers sank back against the skyline, its banner -waving heavily above the keep. Flavian's mass of knights and -men-at-arms held over the eastern downs that rolled greenly above the -black cliffs and the blue mosaics of the sea. A brisk breeze laughed in -their faces, setting plumes nodding, banneroles and pensils aslant. -Their spears rose like the slim masts of many sloops in a harbour. The -sun shone, the green woods beckoned to the glittering mass with its -forest of rolling spears. - -Flavian's pride whimpered as he rode in the van with Modred, Godamar, -who bore the banner of Gambrevault, and Merlion d'Or, his herald. The -man felt like a Zeus with a thunderbolt poised in his hand. A word, the -flash of a sword, the cry of a trumpet, and all this splendid torrent of -steel would leap and thunder to work his will. The star of chivalry -shone bright in the heavens. As for this woman on the white horse, the -Madonna of the Pine Forest, God and the saints, he would charge the -whole world, hell and its legions, to win so rich a prize. - -Turning northwards, with scouts scattered in the far van, they drew to -wilder regions where the dark and saturnine outposts of the great pine -forest stood solemn upon the hills. Dusky were the thickets against the -sapphire sky, the cloud banners trailing in the breeze. The very -valleys breathed of battle and sudden peril of the sword. Rounding a -wood, they saw riders flash over the brow of a hill and come towards -them at a gallop. The men drew rein before the great company of spears. -Their leader saluted his lord, and glanced round grimly upon the sea of -steel dwindling over the green slopes. - -"Sire, we are well-fortuned." - -"Say on." - -"Ten thousand rebels from Geraint are on the march two miles away. -Godamar has given you the news. We are on the crest of the wave." - -Flavian tightened his baldric. - -"Good ground to the east, Longsword?" - -"Excellent for 'horse,' sire." - -"To our advantage?" - -"Half a mile further towards Geraint there lies a grass valley, a league -long, four furlongs from wood to wood. The rebels will march through it, -or I am a dotard. There stands your chance, sire. We can roll down on -them like a torrent." - -Flavian took time by the throat, and called on his man of the tabard. - -"Make me this proclamation," quoth he: "'Gentlemen of Gambrevault, -strike for King and chivalry. Let vengeance dye your swords. As for -the lady riding upon the white horse, mark you, sirs, let her be as the -Virgin out of heaven. We ride to take her and her banner. For the -rest, no quarter and no prisoners. We will teach this mob the art of -war.'" - -The man of the tabard proclaimed it as he was bidden. The iron ranks -thundered to him like billows foaming about a rock. Modred claimed -silence with uplifted sword. - -"Enough, gentlemen, enough. No bellowing. Muzzle your temper. We make -our spring in silence, that we may claw the harder." - -A line of hills lay before them, heights crowned with black pine woods, -save for one bare ridge like a great scimitar carving the sky. Flavian -advanced his companies up the slopes, halted them in a broad hollow -under the brow of the hill. A last galloper had ridden in with hot -tidings of the rebels. The Lord of Gambrevault, with Sir Modred and -Longsword, cantered on to reconnoitre. They drew to a thicket of -gnarled hollies on the hilltop, and looked down upon a long grass valley -bounded north and south by woods. - -Half a mile away came the rebel vanguard, a black mass of footmen -plodding uphill, their pikes and bills shining in the sun. Pennons and -gonfalons danced here and there, while in the thick of the column flew -the red banner of the Forest, girt about by the spears of Yeoland's -guard. She could be seen on her white horse in the midst of the press. -The Gerainters were split into three columns, the second column half a -mile behind the first, the third somewhat closer upon the second. They -were marching without outriders, as though thoroughly assured of their -own safety. - -Modred chuckled grimly through his black beard, and smote his thigh. - -"Fools, fools!" - -"Devilish generalship," quoth Longsword under his beaver. "We can crush -their van like a wheatfield before the rest can come up. What say you, -sire, fewtre spears, and at them?" - -Flavian had already turned his horse. - -"No sounding of trumpets, sirs," he said; "we will deal only with their -van. Call up our companies. God and St. Philip for Gambrevault!" - -Over the bare ridge, with its barriers of sun-steeped trees, steel -shivered and spears bristled, rank on rank, wave on wave. With a massed -rhythm of hoofs, the flood crested the hill, plunged down at a gallop -with fewtred spears. Knee to knee, flank to flank, a thousand streaks -of steel deluged the hillside. Their trumpets throated now the charge; -the iron ranks clashed and thundered, rocked on with a rush of -glittering shields. - -As dust rolling before a March wind, so the horsemen of Gambrevault -poured down on the horde of wavering pikes. The storm had come sudden -as thunder out of a summer sky. Before the hurtling impact of that bolt -of war, the palsied ranks of foot crumbled like rotten timber. The -Gerainters were too massed and too amazed to squander or give ground, to -stem with bill and bow the rolling torrent of death. They were rent and -trampled, trodden like straw under the stupendous avalanche of steel -that crushed and pulverised with ponderous and invincible might. - -"God and Gambrevault, kill, kill!" - -Such was the death-cry thundered out over the rebel van. The column -broke, burst into infinite chaos. Yeoland's guards alone stood firm, a -tough core of oak amid rotten tinder. Over the trampled wreckage the -fight swirled and eddied, circling about the knot of steel where the red -banner flapped in the vortex of the storm. - -Yeoland sat dazed on her white horse, as one in the grip of some -terrific dream. Nord was at her side, snarling, snapping his jaw like a -wolf, his great iron mace poised over his shoulder. The red banner -flapped prophetic above their heads. Around them the fight gathered, a -whirlwind of contorted figures and stabbing steel. - -Yeoland's eyes were on one figure in the press, a man straddling a big -bay horse, smiting double-handed with his sword, his red plume jerking -in the hot rush of the fight. She saw horse and man go down before him; -saw him buffet his way onward like a galley ploughing against wind and -wave. His leaping sword and tossing plume came steady and strenuous -through the girdle of death. - -Fear, pride, a hundred battling passions played like the battle through -the woman's mobile brain. She watched the man under the red plume with -an intensity of feeling that made her blind to all else for the moment. -Love seemed to struggle towards her in bright harness through the fight. -She saw the last rank of the human rampart pierced. The man on the bay -horse came out before her like some warrior out of an old epic. - -None save Nord stood between them, shaggy and grim as a great Norse -Thor. She watched the iron mace swing, saw it fall and smite wide. -Flavian stood in the stirrups, both hands to the hilt, his horse's -muzzle rammed against the opposing brute's chest. The blow fell, a -great cut laid in with all the culminating courage of an hour. The -sword slashed Nord's gorget, buried its blade in the bull-like neck. He -clutched at his throat, toppled, slid out of the saddle and rolled under -his horse's hoofs. - -[Illustration: "THE SWORD SLASHED NORD'S GORGET, BURIED ITS BLADE IN THE -BULL-LIKE NECK."] - -The man's hand snatched at the girl's bridle; he dragged her and her -horse out of the press. She had a confused vision of carnage, of -stabbing swords and trampling hoofs. She saw her banner-bearer fall -forward on his horse's neck, thrust through with a sword, while Modred -seized the banner staff from his impotent hand. The rebel column had -deliquesced and vanished. In its stead she was girdled by grim and -exultant horsemen whose swords flashed in the sun. - -Trumpets blew the retreat. A thousand glittering riders swarmed about -her and the knight with the red plume. She had his words confusedly in -her ears, strong, passionate words, heroic, yet utterly tender. They -rode uphill together amid the clangour of his men. In a minute they had -won the ridge, and were swinging down the further slope with their faces -towards Gambrevault. - - - - - XXX - - -Paris and Helen have been dead centuries, yet in that universal world of -the mind they still live, young and glorious as when the Grecian galleys -ploughed foam through the blue AEgean. The world loves a lover. -Troilus stages our own emotions for us in godlier wise than we poor -realists can hope to do. We owe an eternal gratitude to those who have -stood for love in history. All men might well desire to play the -Tristan to Iseult of the Irish eyes. We forget Gemma Donati, and follow -with Dante's wistful idealism the gleaming figure of Beatrice in -Paradise. - -Now the Lord Flavian was one of those happy persons who seem to stumble -into heaven either by prodigious instinct or remarkable good-fortune. -God gives to many men gold; to others intellect; to some truth; to few, -a human echo, a harmony in the spirit, the right woman in the world. -Many of us are such unstable folk that we vibrate vastly to a beautiful -face and hail heaven in a pair of violet eyes. The chance is that such -a business turns out miserably. It is a wise rule to search the world -through to find your Beatrice, or bide celibate to the end. Happy is -the man whose instinctive choice is ratified by all the wisest poetry of -heaven. Happy is he who finds a ruby as he rakes the ephemeral -flower-gardens of life, a gem eternally bright and beautiful, durable, -unchanging, flashing light ever into the soul. It is given to few to -love wisely, to love utterly, to love till death. - -That summer day Flavian saw life at its zenith, as he rode through the -woods on the way to Gambrevault. The horse had dropped to a trot, and -the man had taken off his helmet and hung it at his saddle-bow. He was -still red from the melee; his eyes were bright and triumphant. The girl -at his side looked at him half-timidly, a tremor upon her lip, her -glances clouded. The terrific action of the last hour still seemed to -weigh upon her senses, and she seemed fated to be the sport of -contending sentiments. No sooner had she struggled to some level of -saintliness than love rushed in with burning wings, and lo, all the -tinsel of her religion fell away, and she was a mere Eve, a child of -Nature. - -Flavian watched her with the tenderness of a strong man, who is ready to -give his life for the woman he serves. Love seemed to rise from her and -play upon him like perfume from a bowl of violets; her eyes transfigured -him, and he longed to touch her hair. - -"At last." - -"Lord?" - -"Treat me as a man, I hate that epithet." - -"You are a great signor." - -"What are titles, testaments, etiquettes to us! I am only great so long -as you trust and honour me." - -"Your power might appear precarious." - -"As you will." - -"Yet war is loose!" - -He looked round upon the sea of men that rolled on every hand. - -"And war at its worst. I have seen enough in three days to make me -loathe your partisans and their principles." - -"Perhaps." - -"It is a wicked and inhuman business." - -"What are you going to do with me?" she said. - -"Remove you from the hands of butchers and offal-mongers; put you like a -pearl in a casket in my own castle of Gambrevault." - -"You incur the greater peril." - -"Have I not told you that no woman loves a coward?" - -She was silent awhile, with her eyes wistful and melancholy, as though -some spiritual conflict were passing in her mind. Bitterness escaped in -the man's words for all his tenderness and chivalry. He needed an -answer. Anon she capitulated and appeared to surrender herself -absolutely to circumstance. She began to tell Flavian of her adoption -by Fulviac, of her vision in the ruined chapel, of the part assigned to -her as a woman ordained by heaven. He heard her in silence, finding -quaint pleasure in listening to her voice, having never heard her talk -at such length before. Her voice's modulations, its pathos, its many -tones, were more subtle to him than any music, and seemed to steep in -oblivion the grim realities of the last few days. He watched the play of -thought upon her face, sun and shadow, calm and unrest. He began to -comprehend the discords he had flung into her life; she was no longer a -riddle to him; her confessions portrayed her soul in warm and delicate -colouring--colouring pathetic and heroically pure. He had a glorious -sense of joy in an instinctive conviction that this girl was worthy of -all the highest chivalry a man's heart can conceive of. - -Though he had a strong suspicion that he could humanise her Madonna for -her, he refrained from argument, refrained from dilating on the -iniquities her so-called crusades had already perpetrated. Moreover, -the girl had opened her heart to him with a delicious and innocent -ingenuousness. He felt that the hour had blessed him sufficiently; that -personalities would be gross and impertinent in the light of that -sympathy that seemed suddenly to have enveloped them like a golden -cloud. The girl appeared to have surrendered herself spiritually into -his keeping, not sorry in measure that a strong destiny had decided her -doubts for her. They were to let political considerations and the -ephemeral turmoils of the times sink under their feet. It was -sufficient for them to be but a man and a woman, to forget the forbidden -fruit, and the serpent and his lore. God walked the world; they were not -ashamed to hear His voice. - -So they came with their glittering horde of horsemen to Gambrevault, and -rode over the green downs with towers beckoning from the blue. The -Gilderoy forces were still miles away, and could not have threatened the -retreat on Gambrevault had they been wise as to the event. Yeoland rode -close at Flavian's side. He touched her hand, looked in her eyes, saw -the colour stream to her cheeks, knew that she no longer was his enemy. - -"Yonder stands Gambrevault," were his words; "its walls shall bulwark -you against the world. Trust me and my eternal faith to you. I shall -see God more clearly for looking in your eyes." - -He lodged her in a chamber in the keep, a room that had been his -mother's and still held the furniture, books, and music she had used. -Its window looked out on the castle garden, and over the double line of -walls to the meadows and woods beyond. Maud, the castellan's wife, was -bidden to wait upon her. Flavian gave her the keys of his mother's -chests, where silks, samites, sarcenets galore, lace and all manner of -golden fripperies, were stored. The ewers of the room were of silver, -its hangings of violet cloth, its bed inlaid with ivory and hung with -purple velvet. It had a shelf full of beautifully illumined books, a -prayer-desk and a small altar, a harp, a lute, an embroidery frame, and -numberless curios. Thus by the might of the sword Yeoland was installed -in the great castle of Gambrevault. - -So Duessa and Balthasar were dead. The girl had told Flavian what had -passed in Sforza's palace; the news shocked him more than he would have -dreamed. The dead wound us with their unapproachableness and the mute -pathos of their pale, imagined faces. They are like our own sins that -stare at us from the night sky, irrevocable and beyond us for ever. -Flavian ordered tapers to be burnt and masses said in the castle chapel -for the souls of these two unfortunates. He himself spent more than an -hour in silent prayer before he confessed, received penance and -absolution. - -That evening, at Flavian's prayer, Yeoland came down to meet him in the -castle garden, with the castellan's two girls to serve her as maids of -honour. She had put aside her armour, and was clad in a jacket of -violet cloth, fitting close to the figure, and a skirt of light blue -silk. In the old yew walk, stately and solemn, amid the bright parterres -and stone urns gushing colour, the two children slipped away and left -Yeoland and the man alone. - -She seemed to have lost much of her restraint, much of her independence, -of her reserve, in a few short hours. Her mood inclined towards silence -and a certain delightful solemnity such as a lover loves. Her eyes met -the man's with a rare trust; her hands went into his with all the ideal -faith he had forecast in his dreams. - -They stood together under the yews, full of youth and innocent joy of -soul, timid, happily sad, content to be mere children. Flavian touched -her hands as he would have touched a lily. She seemed too wonderful, -too pure, too transcendent to be fingered. A supreme, a godly timidity -possessed him; he had such love in his heart as only the strong and the -pure can know, such love as makes a man a saint unto himself, a being -wrapped round with the rarest chivalry of heaven. - -Their words were very simple and infrequent. - -"I have been thinking," said the girl. - -"Yes?" - -"How war seems ever in the world." - -"How else should I have won you?" - -She sighed and looked up over his shoulder at the sunlight glimmering -gold through the yews. - -"I have been thinking how I bring you infinite peril. They will not lose -me easily. What if I bring you to ruin?" - -"I take everything to myself." - -"They believe me a saint." - -"And I!" - -"My conscience will reproach me, but now----" - -"Well?" - -"I am too happy to remember." - -Their eyes met and flashed all the unutterable truths of the soul. -Flavian kissed her hand. - -"Forget it all," he said, "save the words I spoke to you over that -forest grave. Whatever doom may come upon me, though death frown, I -care not; all the sky is at sunset, all the world is full of song. I -could meet God to-morrow with a smile, since you have shown me all your -heart." - -From a little stone pavilion hidden by laurels the voices of flutes and -viols swirled out upon the air. The west grew faint, and twilight -increased; night kissed and closed the azure eyes of the day. Under the -yew boughs, Flavian and Yeoland walked hand in hand; the music spoke for -them; the night made their faces pale and spiritual under the trees. -They said little; a tremor of the fingers, a glance, a sigh were enough. -When the west had faded, and the last primrose streak was gone, Flavian -kissed the girl's lips and sent her back to the two children, who were -curled on a bench by the laurels, listening sleepily to the music of -flute and viol. - -The man's soul was too scintillant and joyous to shun the stars. He -passed up on to the battlements, and listened to the long surge of the -summer sea. - -And as he paced the battlements that night, he saw red, impish specks of -flame start out against the black background of the night. They were -the rebel watchfires burning on the hills, sinister eyes, red with the -distant prophecy of war. - - - - - XXXI - - -It would be difficult to describe the thundercloud of thought that came -down upon Fulviac's face when news was brought him of the capture of the -girl Yeoland and the decimation of the vanguard from Geraint. There was -something even Satanic upon his face for the moment. He was not a -pleasant person when roused, and roused he was that day like any ogre. -His tongue ran through the whole gamut of blasphemy before he recovered -a finer dignity and relapsed into a grim reserve. His men spoke to him -with great suavity. He had decreed that Nord of the Hammer should be -hanged for negligence, but the decree was unnecessary, since Flavian's -sword had already settled the matter. - -The Gilderoy forces therefore turned northwards, with their great -baggage and siege train, and in due course came upon the Gerainters -bivouacking on the ridge where the battle had taken place. The green -slopes were specked with dark motionless figures, dead horses, and the -wreckage of war. Men were burying the dead upon the battlefield. -Yeoland's guard had been slaughtered almost to a man; and the whole -affair had damped very considerably the ardour of certain of the less -trustworthy levies. - -But Fulviac was not the man to sit and snivel over a defeat; he knew -well enough that he had good men behind him, tough fighting stuff, fired -by fanaticism and a long sense of wrong. He harangued his whole force, -black-guarded with his lion's roar those concerned in the march from -Geraint, treating them to such a scourging with words that they snarled -and clamoured to be led on at once to prove their mettle. Their leaders -had been at fault, nor did Fulviac keep their spirits cooling in the -wind. The power of his own personality was great, and he had twenty -thousand men at his back, who knew that to fail meant death and torture. -They had received a check from the Lord of Gambrevault; it was -absolutely essential to the cause that they should wipe out the defeat, -recapture their Saint and sacred banner, crush Gambrevault once and for -ever. To this strenuous tune they marched on towards the sea, and that -night lit their fires on the hills that ringed Gambrevault on the north. - -As the sun climbed up and spread a curtain of gold over down and upland, -those on the walls of Gambrevault saw steel glinting on the hills, the -pikes and casques of Fulviac's horde. Yeoland saw them from her -casement, as she stood and combed her hair. Flavian, watching with -certain knights on the keep, confronted the event with a merry smile. -The shimmering line of silver on the hills had broadened to a darker -band, splashed lavishly with steel. The rebel host was coming on in a -half moon, with each horn to the sea. Its centre held towards the ford -and the dismantled Gambrevault mills, positions strongly held on the -southern bank by a redoubt and stockaded trenches. - -The criticisms delivered by those watching from the keep were various -and forcible. - -"By Jeremy--a rare mob!" - -"Let them grip at Gambrevault," said Modred, "and they shall clutch at a -cactus. Look at that long baggage train in the rear. Damn them, I -guess they have the siege train from Gilderoy." - -"We shall sweat a trifle." - -Quoth Tristram, "They have little time to spare for a leaguer, rotting -in trenches, if they are to make the country rise. They'll not leaguer -us." - -Flavian watched the advance under his hand. - -"Fortunately or unfortunately, gentlemen," he said, "we have taken their -Saint, their oracle, and their sacred banner. I imagine they will do -their best to dispossess us. It is time we made for the meadows; I -reckon we shall have hot work to-day." - -When leaving the keep, Flavian crossed the castle garden, and caught -under the tunnel of yews the flutter of a woman's gown. Sunlight -glimmered through and wove a shimmering network in the air. Green and -violet swept the stones; a white face shone in the shadows. - -He went to her and kissed her hands. His eyes were brave and joyous as -she looked into them, and there was no shadow of fear upon his face. -Trumpets were blowing in the meadows, piercing the confused hum of men -running to arms. - -"War, ever war!" - -"You are sad?" - -"Fulviac has the whole kingdom at his back." - -"If he led the world, I should not waver." - -"With me it is different; I am a woman and you know my heart." - -"So well that I seek to know nothing else in the world, I desire no -greater wisdom than my love. You are with me, and my heart sings. No -harm can come to you whatever doom may fall on Gambrevault." - -"Think you my thoughts are all of my own safety?" - -"Ah, golden one, never fear for me. What is life? a little joy, a -little pain, and then eternity. I would rather have an hour's glory in -the sun than fifty years of grey monotony. It is something to fight, -and even to die, for the love of a woman. There is no shadow over my -soul." - -There was a great heroism in his voice, and her eyes caught the light -from his. She touched his cuirass with her slim white fingers. - -"God keep you!" - -"Ha, I do not smell of earth to-day, nor dream of requiems." - -"No, you will come back to me." - -"Give me your scarf." - -She took the green silk and knotted it about his arm; a rich colour -shone in her cheeks, her eyes were warm and wonderfully luminous. - -"God keep you!" - -So he kissed her lips and left her. - -The rebel horde had rolled down in their thousands from the hills. -Flavian saw their black masses moving from the woods, as he rode down -from the great gate. It was evident to him that Fulviac would try and -force the ford and win his way to the open meadows beyond. The river ran -fast with a deep but narrow channel, and there was only one other ford -some nine miles upstream. His own men were under arms in the meadows. -With his knights round him, Flavian rode down to the redoubt and -trenches by the river-bank, packed as they already were with archers and -men-at-arms. He was loudly cheered as he reined in and scanned the -rebel columns moving over the downs. - -Fulviac had ridden forward with a company of spears to reconnoitre. He -saw the captured banner of The Maid hoisted derisively on Gambrevault -keep; he saw the redoubt and the stockades covering the ford; the foot -massed in the meadows; Flavian's mounted men-at-arms drawn up under the -castle walls. Sforza and several captains of note were with Fulviac. -The man was in a grim mood, a slashing Titanic humour. The passage of -the river was to be forced, Flavian's men engaged in the meadows. He -would drive them into Gambrevault before nightfall. Then they would -cast their leaguer, bring up the siege train taken from Gilderoy, and -batter at Gambrevault till they could storm the place. - -Early in the day Fulviac detached a body of two thousand men under -Colgran, a noted free-lance, to march upstream, cross by the upper ford, -and threaten Flavian on the flank. The fighting began at ten of the -clock, when Fulviac's bowmen scattered along the river and opened fire -upon the stockades. Flavian's archers and arbalisters responded. A -body of five thousand rebels advanced with great mantlets upon wheels to -the northern bank and entrenched themselves there. A second body, with -waggons laden with timber and several flat-bottomed boats, poured down -to the river a mile higher up, and began to throw a rough, raft-like -bridge across the stream. At half-past ten masses of men-at-arms -splashed through the water at the ford, under cover of a hot fire from -the archers lining the bank, and began an assault upon the redoubt and -the stockades. - -By twelve o'clock the bridge higher up the stream had been completed, -and a glittering line of pikes poured across, to be met on the southern -bank by Geoffrey Longsword and a body of men-at-arms. It was hand to -hand, and hot and strenuous as could be. Men grappled, stabbed, hacked, -bellowed like a herd of bulls. Flavian had reinforced the defenders of -the ford, who still held Fulviac at bay, despite a heavy archery fire -and the almost continuous assaults poured against the stockades. Yet by -one o'clock Fulviac's levies had forced the passage of the bridge and -gained footing on the southern bank. Longsword's men, outnumbered and -repulsed, were falling back before the black masses of foot that now -poured into the meadows. - -The situation was critical enough, as Flavian had long seen, as he -galloped hotly from point to point. Fulviac's rebels had shown more -valour than he had ever prophesied. Flavian packed all his remaining -foot into the trenches, and putting himself at the head of his knights -and mounted men-at-arms, rode down to charge the troops who had crossed -by the pontoons. Here chivalry availed him to the full. By a -succession of tremendous rushes, he drove the rebels back into the -river, did much merciless slaughter, cut the ropes that held the bridge -to the southern bank, so that the whole structure veered downstream. -The peril seemed past, when he was startled by the cry that the redoubt -had been carried, and that Fulviac held the ford. - -Looking south, he saw the truth with his own eyes. His troops were -falling back in disorder upon Gambrevault, followed by an ever-growing -mass, that swarmed exultantly into the meadows. The last and successful -assault had been led by Fulviac in person. Flavian had to grip the -truth. The rebels outnumbered him by more than five to one; and he had -underrated their discipline and fighting spirit. He was wiser before -the sun went down. - -"Come, gentlemen, we shall beat them yet." - -"Shall we charge them, sire?" - -"Blow bugles, follow me, sirs; I am in no mood for defeat." - -That afternoon there was grim work in the Gambrevault meadows. Five -times Flavian charged Fulviac's columns, hurling them back towards the -river, only to be repulsed in turn by the fresh masses that poured over -by the ford. He made much slaughter, lost many good men in the mad, -whirling melees. Desperate heroism inspired on either hand. Once he -stood in great peril of his own life, having been unhorsed and -surrounded by a mob of rebel pikes. He was saved by the devotion and -heroism of Modred and his household knights. With the chivalry of a -Galahad, he did all that a man could to keep the field. Colgran's -flanking column appeared over the downs, and Fulviac had his whole host -on the southern bank of the river. The masses advanced like one man, -pennons flying, trumpets clanging. Flavian would have charged again, -but for the vehement dissuasion of certain of his elder knights. He -contented himself with covering the retreat of his foot, while the great -gate of Gambrevault opened its black maw to take them in. Many of his -mercenaries had deserted to the rebels. So stubborn and bloody had been -the day, that he had lost close upon half his force by death and -desertion; no quarter had been given on either side. He heard the -surging shouts of exultation from the meadows, as he rode sullen and -wearied into Gambrevault. The great gates thundered to, the -portcullises rattled down. Fulviac had his man shut up in Gambrevault. - - - - - XXXII - - -The leaguer was drawn that night about the towers of Gambrevault, and -the castle stood clasped betwixt the watch-fires and the sea. Fulviac's -rebels, toiling from evening until dawn, banked and staked a rampart to -close the headland. From the north alone could Gambrevault be -approached, precipices plunging south, east, and west to front the sea. -Athwart the grassy isthmus Fulviac drew his works, running from cliff to -cliff, brown earth-banks bristling with timber. Mortars, bombards, -basilics, and great catapults had been brought from Gilderoy to batter -the walls. Redoubts, covered by strong mantlets, were established in -the meadows. Several small war galleys guarded the castle on the side -of the sea. - -Nor was this labour permitted to pass unrebuked before the leaguered -folk upon the headland. There were sallies, assaults, bloody tussles in -the trenches, skirmishes upon the causeway. Yet these fiercenesses -brought no flattering boon to the besieged. The knights and men-at-arms -were masterful enough with an open field to serve them, but behind their -barricades Fulviac's rebels held the advantage. The command went forth -from Modred the seneschal that there were to be no more sorties -delivered against the trenches. - -On the second day of the leaguer the cannonade began. Bombard and mortar -belched flame and smoke; the huge catapults strove with their gigantic -arms; arbalisters wound their windlasses behind the ramparts. Shot -screamed and hurtled, crashed and thundered against the walls, bringing -down mortar and masonry in rattling showers. The battlements of -Gambrevault spouted flame; archers plied their bows in bartisan and -turret. A shroud of dust and smoke swirled about the place, the chaotic -clamour of the siege sending the gulls wheeling and wailing from the -cliffs. - -On the very second day Flavian was brought low by a shot hurling a -fragment of masonry upon his thigh and bruising it to the bone. Stiff -and faint, he was laid abed in his own state room, unable to stir for -the twinging tendons, loth enough to lie idle. Modred, bluff, lusty -smiter, took the command from him, and walked the walls. Hourly he came -in to his lord's chamber to tell of the cannonade and the state of the -castle. Even Flavian from his cushions could see that the man's black -face looked grim and sinister. - -"How do they vex us?" was his question, as the thunder came to them from -the meadows. - -Modred clinked his heels against the wainscotting of the window seat, -and strove to sweeten his looks. He was not a man given to blandishing -the truth. - -"Their damned bombards are too heavy for us. We are dumb." - -"Impossible!" - -"Sire, we shall have to hold Gambrevault by the sword." - -The man on the bed started up on his elbow, only to fall back again with -a spasmodic twitching of the forehead. - -"And our bombards?" he asked. - -"Are toppled off their trunnions." - -"Ha!" - -"For the rest, sire, I have ordered our men to keep cover. The bowmen -shoot passably. The outer battlements are swept." - -"And the walls?" - -Modred grimaced and stroked his beard. - -"There are cracks in the gate-house," quoth he, "that I could lay my -fist in." - -What goodlier fortune for a man than to lie bruised when Love bears to -him the bowl of dreams! What softer balm than the touch of a woman's -hand! What more subtle music than her voice! The girl Yeoland had -betrayed a new wilfulness to the world, in that she now claimed as her -guerdon the care of the man's heart. She was in and about his room, a -shadow moving in the sunlight, a shaft of youth, supple and very tender. -Her eyes had a rarer lustre, her face more of the dawn tint of the rose. -Love stirred within her soul like the sound of angels psaltering on the -golden battlements of heaven. - -As she sat often beside him, Flavian won the whole romance from her, -gradual as glistening threads of silk drawn from a scarlet purse. She -waxed very solemn over her tale, was timid at times, and exceeding -sorrowful for all her passion. Some shadowy fear seemed to companion -her beside the couch, some wraith prophetic of a tragic end. She loved -the man, yet feared her love, even as it had been a sword shimmering -above his head. Peril compassed them like an angry sea; she heard the -bombards thundering in the meadows. - -"Ah, sire," she said to him one morning, as she thrust the flowers she -had gathered in the garden into a brazen bowl, "I am heavy at heart. -Who shall pity me?" - -He turned towards her on his cushions with a smile that was not -prophetic of the tomb. - -"Do I weary you?" - -"Ah no, not that." - -"Why then are you sad?" - -She held up a white hand in the gloom of the room, her hair falling like -a black cloud upon her bosom. - -"Listen," she said to him. - -"I am not deaf." - -"The thunder of war." - -"Well, well, my heart, should I fear it?" - -"It is I who fear." - -"Ah," he said, taking her hand into his bosom, "put such fears far from -you. We shall not end this year in dust." - -A week passed and the man was on the walls again, bold and ruddy as a -youthful Jove. Seven days had gone, swelling with their hours the great -concourse in the meadows. Pikes had sprouted on the hills like -glistening corn, to roll and merge into the girding barrier of steel. -The disloyal south had gathered to Fulviac before Gambrevault like dust -in a dry corner in the month of March. A great host teemed betwixt the -river and the cliffs. Through all, the rack and thunder of the siege -went on, drowning the sea's voice, flinging a storm-cloud over the -stubborn walls. In Gambrevault men looked grim, and muttered of succour -and the armies of the King. - -Yet Flavian was content. He had taken a transcendent spirit into his -soul; he lived to music; drank love and chivalry like nectar from the -gods. The woman's nearness made each hour a chalice of gold. He -possessed her red heart, looked deep into her eyes, put her slim hands -into his bosom. Her voice haunted him like music out of heaven. He was -a dreamer, a Lotos-eater, whose brain seemed laden with all the perfumes -of the East. Ready was he to drain the purple wine of life even to the -dregs, and to find death in the cup if the Fates so willed it. - -And Fulviac? - -War had held a poniard at his throat, turning him to the truth with the -threat of steel. Grim and implacable, he stalked the meadows, bending -his brows upon the towers of Gambrevault. This girl of the woods was no -more a dream to him, but supple love, ardent flesh, blood-red reality. -Lean, leering thoughts taunted the lascivious fears within his brain. -His moods were silent yet tempestuous. Gambrevault mocked him. -Vengeance burnt in his palm like a globe of molten iron. - -His dogged temper roused his captains to strenuous debate. Fifty -thousand men were idle before the place, and the siege dragged like a -homily. Their insinuations were strong and strident. The countryside -was emptying its broad larder; Malgo and Godamar of the Fens were -marching from east and west. Ten thousand men could leaguer -Gambrevault. It behoved Fulviac to pluck up his spears and march on -Lauretia, proud city of the King. - -For a season Fulviac was stubborn as Gambrevault itself. His yellow -eyes glittered, and he tossed back his lion's mane from off his -forehead. - -"Till the place is ours," so ran his dogma, "I stir never a foot. See -to it, sirs, we will put these skulkers to the sword." - -His captains were strenuous in retort. - -"You mar the cause," said Sforza over the council-board, thin-lipped and -subtle. - -"Give me ten thousand men," quoth Colgran the free-lance, "by my bones I -will take the place and bring the Maid out scatheless." - -Prosper the Priest put in his plea. - -"You are our torch," he said, "our beacon. Malgo is on the march; -Godamar has massed behind the creeks of Thorney Isle. The country waits -for you. Leave Gambrevault to Colgran." - -And again the free-lance made his oath. - -"Give me ten thousand men," quoth he, "by Peter's blood the place shall -tumble in a month." - -That same evening, as a last justification of his stubborn will, Fulviac -sent forward a trumpeter under a white flag to parley with the besieged. -The herald's company drew to the walls as the sun sank over the sea, -setting the black towers in a splendour as of fire. Fulviac's troops -were under arms in the meadows, their pikes glittering with sinister -meaning into the purple of the coming night. The Lord of Gambrevault, -in full harness, met the white flag, his knights round him, a crescent -of steel. - -Fulviac's trumpeter proclaimed his terms. They were insolently simple, -surrender absolute with the mere blessings of life and limb, a dungeon -for the lords, a proffer of traitorous service to the men. Yeoland the -Saint was to be sent forth scatheless. The castle was to be garrisoned -and held by the rebels. - -Flavian laughed at the bluff insolence of the demand. - -"Ha, sirs," he said, "we are the King's men here. Get you gone before my -gate. Say to yonder traitor in the meadows, 'We quail not before -scullions and at the frowns of cooks.'" - -Thus, under the red canopy of the warring west, ended the parley at the -gate of Gambrevault. The white flag tripped back behind the trenches; -the castle trumpets blew a fanfare to grace its flight. Yeoland the -Saint heard it, and her lamp of hope burnt dim. - -That night Fulviac paced the meadows, his eyes scanning the black mass -upon the cliffs. Dark as was his humour, reason ruled him at the -climax, powerful to extort the truth. Primaeval instincts were strong -in him, yet he put them back that hour out of his heart. Robust and -vigorous, he trampled passion under foot. At dawn his orders went forth -to the captains and the council. - -"Colgran shall command. Ten thousand men shall serve him. Let him -storm the place, grant no terms, spare Yeoland the Maid alone. Let him -butcher the garrison, and let the ruin rot. When all have been put to -the sword, let him march and join me before the city of Lauretia." - - - - - XXXIII - - -So Fulviac with his host passed northwards from Gambrevault, leaving -Colgran and his ten thousand to guard the trenches. Flavian saw the -black columns curl away over the green slopes, their pikes glittering -against the blue fringe of the horizon, their banners blowing to the -breeze. The red pavilion stood no longer in the meadows; the man on the -black horse rode no more behind the barricades. Ominous was the marching -of the host over the hills, a prophecy of many battles before the King's -men could succour Gambrevault. - -The gate-house stood in ruins, a shattered pile of masonry barriering -the causeway from the meadows. The outer curtain wall on the north had -been pierced between two towers; the stone-work crumbled fast, opening a -gradual breach to the rebel sea dammed behind the trenches. The -battlements were rent and ruinous; many a turret gaped and tottered. -Still the bombards thundered, hurling their salvos of shot against the -place, belching flame even through the night, while the arms of the -great slings toiled like giant hands in the dark. - -As for the girl Yeoland, her joy was dim and flickering, mocked with -constant prophecies of woe. The sounds of the siege haunted her -perpetually. Shafts wailed and whistled, bombards roared, the walls -reeked and cracked. A corner in the garden under the yew walk was the -single nook left her open to the blue hope of heaven. The clamour of -the leaguer woke a hundred echoes in her heart. Above all shone the -man's strong face and passionate eyes; above the moon, the stars, the -blue vault of day, death spread his sable wings, a cloud of gloom. - -On the sixteenth day of the siege, Colgran made an assault in force upon -the ruins of the gate-house. Despite its chaotic state, Flavian clung -to the ruin, and held the stormers at bay. Thrice Colgran's rebels -advanced to the attack, and came hand-to-hand with the defenders over -the crumbling piles of stone; thrice they were beaten back and driven to -retreat upon their trenches. Colgran renounced the gate-house as -impregnable; the slings and bombards were turned upon the outer wall to -widen the breach already made therein. - -It was plain enough even to Yeoland that the siege was bearing slowly -yet surely against Gambrevault. More than half a month had passed, and -still no succouring spears shone upon the hills, no sail upon the sea. -Poor food and summer heat, the crowding of the garrison had opened a -gate to fever and disease. She saw the stern and moody faces of the -soldiery, their loyalty that took fresh and hectic fire from the courage -of their lord. She saw the broken walls and ruined battlements, and -heard the rebels shouting in their trenches. - -As the man's peril grew more real and significant, a fear more vehement -entered into her heart. Sleep left her; she began to look white and -weary, with dark shadows under her eyes. The man's warm youth accused -her like a tree that should soon be smitten by the axe. His fine heroism -was a veritable scourge, making the future full of discords, a -charnel-house glimmering with bleached bones. She began to know how -closely their lives were mingled, even as wine in a cup of gold. He was -lord and husband to her in the spirit. Her red heart quaked for him -like the shivering petals of an autumn rose. - -On the day of the assault upon the gate-house, he came back to her -wounded in the arm and shoulder. He was faint, but brave and even -merry. She would suffer none to come in to him, as he sat in a carved -chair in her room that opened on the garden. The sight of blood when -harness and gamboison were taken from the caked wounds quickened her -fears into a fever of self-torture. She bathed the wounds and dressed -them with fragrant oil and linen. Twilight filled the room, and it was -not till her tears fell upon his hand that the man found that she was -weeping. - -He drew her towards him with sudden great tenderness, as she knelt and -looked into his face. Her eyes swam with tears, her lips quivered. - -"My life, why do you weep?" - -She started away from him with sudden strength, and stood by the window, -trembling. - -"Give me my armour and my banner," she said; "let me ride to the -trenches and barter terms by my surrender. Sire, let me go, let me go." - -He looked at her sadly under his brows, with forehead wrinkled. - -"You would leave me?" - -"Ah yes, to save you from the sword. Is it easy for me to ask you -this?" - -"You crave more than I can give." - -"No, no." - -"I cannot surrender you." - -"And for love, you would doom all Gambrevault!" - -"Ah!" he cried, "I am wounded, and you would wound me the more." - -She gave a whimper of pain, ran to him, and crept into his arms. As her -sobs shook her, he bent many times and kissed her hair. - -"Weep not for me," he said; "even when the end comes no harm can touch -you. I cannot parley with these wolves; there are women and children -under my roof; should I open my gates to a savage mob?" - -"This is your doom," she said to him. - -"I take it, child, from heaven." - -She wept no more, for a richer heroism took fire within her heart. She -knelt to the man while he held her face betwixt his hands, bent over -her, and kissed her forehead. - -"Courage, courage, what is death!" - -"My God, to lose you." - -"There, am I not flesh and blood? God knows, I would rather have death -than give you to these vultures." - -She knelt before him with her face transfigured. - -"And death, death can touch me also." - - - - - XXXIV - - -August came in with storm and rain, and a dreary wind blew from the -south-west, huddling masses of cloud over a spiritless sky. Southwards, -the sea tumbled, a grey expanse edged with foam, its great breakers -booming dismally upon the cliffs. The wind swept over Gambrevault, -moaning and wailing over battlement and tower, driving the rain in -drifting sheets. The bombards still belched and smoked under their -penthouses, and the arms of the catapults rose and fell against the -sullen sky. - -The eighteenth night of the siege came out of the east like a thunder -bank, and the grey shivering ghost of the day fled over the western -hills. When darkness had fallen, the walls of Gambrevault were -invisible from the trenches. Here and there a light shone out like a -spark in tinder; the sky above was black as a cavern, unbroken by the -crack or cranny of a star. - -Flavian, fully armed, kept watch upon the breach with a strong company -of men-at-arms. He had taken the ugly measure of the night to heart, -and had prepared accordingly. Under the shelter of the wall men slept, -wrapped in their cloaks, with their weapons lying by them. The -sentinels had been doubled on the battlements, though little could be -seen in the blank murk, and even the keep had to be looked for before -its mass disjointed itself from the background of the night. - -It was treacherous weather, and just the season for an adventurous enemy -to creep from the trenches and attempt to rush the breach. Flavian -leant upon his long sword, and brooded. The black ends of the broken -wall stood up hugely on either hand; rubble and fallen masonry paved the -breach, and a rough rampart of debris had been piled along the summit. -Around him shone the dull armour of his men, as they stood on guard in -the rain. - -The storm deadened soul and body, yet kept Flavian vigilant with its -boisterous laughter, a sound that might stifle the tramp of stormers -pouring to the breach. He was not lonely, for a lover can do without -the confidences of others, when he has a woman to speak with in his -heart. In fancy he can lavish the infinite tenderness of the soul, -caress, quarrel, kiss, comfort, with all the idealisms of the -imagination. The spirit lips we touch are sweeter and more red than -those in the flesh. To the true man love is the grandest asceticism the -world can produce. - -Flavian's figure straightened suddenly as it leant bowed in thought upon -the sword. He was alert and vigilant, staring into darkness that -baffled vision and hid the unknown. A dull, characterless sound was in -the air. Whether it was the wind, the sea, or something more sinister, -he could not tell. Calling one of his knights to his side, they stood -together listening on the wreckage of the wall. - -A vague clink, clink, came in discord to the wind, a sound that -suggested the cautious moving of armed men. A hoarse voice was growling -warily in the distance, as though giving orders. The shrilling noise of -steel grew more obvious each moment; the black void below appeared to -grow full of movement, to swirl and eddy like a lagoon, whose muddy -waters are disturbed by some huge reptile at night. The sudden hoarse -cries of sentinels rose from the walls. Feet stumbled on the debris at -the base of the breach; stormers were on the threshold of Gambrevault. - -A trumpet blared in the entry; the guard closed up on the rampart; -sleeping men started from the shadows of the wall, seized sword and -shield as the trumpets' bray rang in their ears. Colgran's stormers, -discovered in their purpose, cast caution to the winds, and sent up a -shout that should have wakened all Gambrevault. - -In the darkness and the driving rain, neither party could see much of -the other. The stormers came climbing blindly up the pile of wreckage -in serried masses. Flavian and his knights, who held the rampart, big -men and large-hearted, smote at the black tide of bodies that rolled to -their swords. It was grim work in the dark. It was no sleepy, -disorderly rabble that held the breach, but a tense line of steel, that -stemmed the assault like a wall. The stormers pushed up and up, to -break and deliquesce before those terrible swords. Modred's deep voice -sounded through the din, as he smote with his great axe, blows that -would have shaken an oak. There was little shouting; it was breathless -work, done in earnest. Colgran's men showed pluck, fought well, left a -rampart of dead to their credit, a squirming, oozing barrier, but came -no nearer forcing the breach. - -They had lost the propitious moment, and the whole garrison was under -arms, ready to repulse the attacks made at other points. Scaling -ladders had been jerked forward and reared against the walls; men -swarmed up, but the rebels gained no lasting foothold on the -battlements. They were beaten back, their ladders hurled down, masonry -toppled upon the mass below. Many a man lay with neck or back broken in -the confused tangle of humanity at the foot of the castle. - -Colgran ordered up fresh troops. It was his policy to wear out the -garrison by sheer importunity and the stress of numbers. He could -afford to lose some hundred men; every score were precious now to -Flavian. It was a system of counter barter in blood, till the weaker -vessel ran dry. The Lord of Gambrevault understood this rough -philosophy well enough, and husbanded his resources. He could not -gamble with death, and so changed his men when the opportunity offered, -to give breathing space to all. Conscious of the strong stimulus of -personal heroism, he kept to the breach himself, and fought on through -every assault with Modred's great axe swinging at his side. He owed his -life more than once to those gorilla-like arms and that crescent of -steel. - -In the outer court, certain of the women folk with Yeoland dealt out -wine and food, and tended the wounded. In the chapel, tapers glimmered, -lighting the frescoes and the saints, the priest chanting at the altar, -the women and children who knelt in the shadowy aisles praying for those -who fought upon the walls. Panic hovered over the pale faces, the fear, -the shivering, weeping, pleading figures. There was little heroism in -Gambrevault chapel, save the heroism of supplication. While swords -tossed and men groped for each other in the wind and rain, old Peter the -cellarer lay drunk in a wine bin, and lame Joan, who tended the linen, -was snivelling in the chapel and fingering the gold angels sewn up in -her tunic. - -Five times did Colgran's men assault the breach that night, each repulse -leaving its husks on the bloody wreckage, its red libations to the -swords of Gambrevault. The last and toughest tussle came during the -grey prologue before dawn. The place was so packed with the dead and -stricken, that it was well-nigh impassable. For some minutes the -struggle hung precariously on the summit of the pass, but with the dawn -the peril dwindled and elapsed. The stormers revolted from the shambles; -they had fought their fill; had done enough for honour; were sick and -weary. No taunt, command, or imprecation could keep them longer in that -gate of death. Colgran's rebels retreated on their trenches. - -And with the dawn Flavian looked round upon the breach, and saw all the -horror of the place in one brief moment. Cloven faces, hacked bodies, -distortions, tortures, blood everywhere. He looked round over his own -men; saw their meagre ranks, their weariness, their wounds, their -exultation that lapsed silently into a kind of desperate awe. Some -tried to cheer him, and at the sound he felt an unutterable melancholy -descend upon his soul. The men were like so many sickly ghosts, a wan -and battered flock, a ragged remnant. He saw the whole truth in a -moment, as a man sees life, death, and eternity pass before him in the -flashing wisdom of a single thought. - -And this was war, this cataclysm of insatiate wrath! His men were too -few, too bustled, to hold the breach against such another storm. His -trumpets blared the retreat, a grim and tragic fanfare. They dragged -out their wounded, abandoned the pile of rubbish for which they had -fought, and withdrew sullenly within the inner walls. Colgran, though -repulsed, had taken the outer ward of Gambrevault. - -As one stumbling from a dream, Flavian found himself in the castle -garden. The place was full of the freshness that follows rain; and it -was not till the scent of flowers met him like an odour of peace, that -he marked that the sky was blue and the dawn like saffron. The -storm-clouds had gone, and the wind was a mere breeze, a moist breath -from the west, bearing a curious contrast to the furious temper of the -night. - -Flavian, looking like a white-faced debauchee, limped through the court, -and climbed the stairway of the keep to the banqueting hall and his own -state chambers. Several of his knights followed him at a distance and in -silence. He felt sick as a dog, and burdened with unutterable care, -that weighed upon him like a prophecy. He had held the breach against -heavy odds, and he was brooding over the cost. There was honour in the -sheer physical heroism of the deed; but he had lost old friends and -tried servants, had sacrificed his outer walls; there was little cause -for exultation in the main. - -He stumbled into the banqueting hall like a man into a tavern. - -"Wine, wine, for the love of God." - -A slim figure in green came out from the oriel, and a pair of dark eyes -quivered over the man's grey face and blood-stained armour. The girl's -hands went out to him, and she seemed like a child roused in the night -from the influence of some evil dream. - -"You are wounded." - -She took him by the arm and shoulder, and was able to force him into a -chair, so limp, so impotent, was he for the moment. His face had the -uncanny pallor of one who was about to faint; his eyes stared at her in -a dazed and wistful way. - -"My God, you are not going to die!" - -He shook his head, smiled weakly, and groped for her hand. She broke -away, brought wine, and began to trickle it between his lips. Several -of his knights came in, and looked on awkwardly from the doorway at the -girl leaning over the man's chair, with her arm under his head. Yeoland -caught sight of them, coloured and called them forward. - -The man's faintness had passed. He saw Modred and beckoned him to his -chair. - -"Take her away," in a whisper. - -Yeoland heard the words, started round, and clung to his hand. There -was a strange look upon her face. Flavian spoke slowly to her. - -"Girl, I am not a savoury object, fresh from the carnage of a breach. -Leave me to my surgeon. I would only save you pain. As for dying, I -feel like an Adam. Go to your room, child; I will be with you before -long." - -She held both his hands, looked in his eyes a moment, then turned away -with Modred and left him. She was very pale, and there was a tremor -about her lips. - -Irrelevant harness soon surrendered to skilled fingers. No great evil -had been done, thanks to the fine temper of Flavian's armour; the few -gashes, washed, oiled, and dressed, left him not seriously the worse for -the night's tussle. Wine and food recovered his manhood. He was -barbered, perfumed, dressed, and turned out by his servants, a very -handsome fellow, with a fine pallor and a pathetic limp. - -His first care was to see his own men attended to, the wounded properly -bestowed, a good supply of food and wine dealt out. He had a brave word -and a smile for all. As he passed, he found Father Julian the priest -administering the Host to those whose dim eyes were closing upon earth -and sky. - -Modred, that iron man, who never seemed weary, was stalking the -battlements, and getting the place prepared for the next storm that -should break. Flavian renounced responsibilities for the moment, and -crossed the garden to Yeoland's room. He entered quietly, looked about -him, saw a figure prostrate on the cushions of the window seat. - -He crossed the room very quickly, knelt down and touched the girl's -hair. Her face was hidden in the cushions. She turned slowly on her -side, and looked at him with a wan, pitiful stare; her eyes were timid, -but empty of tears. - -"Ah, girl, what troubles you?" - -She did not look at him, though he held her hands. - -"Are you angry with me?" - -"No, no." - -"What is it, then?" - -She spoke very slowly, in a suppressed and toneless voice. - -"Will you tell me the truth?" - -He watched her as though she were a saint. - -"I have had a horrible thought in my heart, and it has wounded me to -death." - -"Tell it me, tell it me." - -"That you had repented all----" - -"Repented!" - -"Of all the ruin I am bringing upon you; that you were beginning to -think----" - -He gave a deep cry. - -"You believed that!" - -She lay back on the cushions with a great sigh. Flavian had his arms -about her, as he bent over her till their lips nearly touched. - -"How could you fear!" - -"I am so much a woman." - -"Yes----" - -"And something is all the world to me, even though----" - -"Well?" - -"I would die happy." - -He understood her whole heart, and kissed her lips. - -"Little woman, I had come here to this room to ask you one thing more. -You can guess it." - -"Ah----" - -"Father Julian." - -She drew his head down upon her shoulder, and he knelt a long while in -silence, with her bosom rising and falling under his cheek. - -"I am happy," he said at last; "child-wife, child-husband, let us go -hand in hand into heaven." - - - - - XXXV - - -So with Colgran and his rebels beating at the inner gate, Flavian of -Gambrevault took Yeoland to wife, and was married that same eve by -Father Julian in the castle chapel. There was pathetic cynicism in the -service, celebrating as it did the temporal blending of two bodies who -bade fair by their destinies to return speedily to dust. The chant might -have served as a requiem, or a dirge for the fall of the mighty. It was -a tragic scene, a solemn ceremony, attended by grim-faced men in plated -steel, by frightened women and sickly children. Famine, disease, and -death headed the procession, jigged with the torches, danced like -skeletons about a bier. Trumpets and cannon gave an epithalamium; bones -might have been scattered in lieu of flowers, and wounds espoused in -place of favours. For a marriage pageant war pointed to the grinning -corpses in the breach and the clotted ruins. It was such a ceremony -that might have appealed to a Stoic, or to a Marius brooding amid the -ruins of Carthage. - -Peril chastens the brave, and death is as wine to the heart of the -saint. Even as the sky seems of purer crystal before a storm, so the -soul pinions to a more luminous heroism when the mortal tragedy of life -nears the "explicit." As the martyrs exulted in their spiritual -triumph, or as Pico of Mirandola beheld transcendent visions on his bed -of death, when the Golden Lilies of France waved into luckless Florence, -so Flavian and Yeoland his wife took to their hearts a true bridal -beauty. - -When the door was closed on them that night, a mysterious cavern, a -spiritual shrine of gold, came down as from heaven to cover their souls. -They had no need of the subtleties of earth, of music and of colour, of -flowers, or scent, or song. They were the world, the sky, the sea, the -infinite. Imperishable atoms from the alembic of God, they fused soul -with soul, became as one fair gem that wakes a thousand lustres in its -sapphire unity. To such a festival bring no fauns and dryads, no lewd -and supple goddess, no Orphean flute. Rather, let Christ hold forth His -wounded hands, and let the wings of angels glimmer like snow over the -alchemy of souls. - -Flavian knelt beside the bed and prayed. He had the girl's hand in his, -and her dark hair swept in masses over the pillow, framing her spiritual -face as a dark cloud holds the moon. Her bed-gown was of the whitest -lace and linen, like foam bounding the violet coverlet that swept to her -bosom. The light from the single lamp burnt steadily in her great dark -eyes. - -Flavian lifted up his face from the coverlet and looked long at her. - -"Dear heart, have no fear of me," he said. - -She smiled wonderfully, and read all the fine philosophy of his soul. - -"God be thanked, you are a good man." - -"Ah, child, you are so wonderful that I dare not touch you; I have such -grand awe in my heart that even your breath upon my face makes me bow -down as though an angel touched my forehead." - -"All good and great love is of heaven." - -"Pure as the lilies in the courts of God. Every fragment of you is like -to me as a pearl from the lips of angels; your flesh is of silver, your -bosom as snow from Lebanon, girded with the gold of truth. Oh, second -Adam, thanks be to thee for thy philosophy." - -She put out her hands and touched his hair; their eyes were like sea and -sky in summer, tranquil, tender, and unshadowed. - -"I love you for this purity, ah, more and more than I can tell." - -"True love is ever pure." - -"And for me, such love as yours. Never to see the wolfish stare, the -flushed forehead, and the loosened lip; never to feel the burning -breath. God indeed be thanked for this." - -"Have no fear of me." - -"Ah, like a white gull into a blue sky, like water into a crystal bowl, -I give myself into your arms." - - - - - XXXVI - - -A week had passed, and the Gambrevault trumpets blew the last rally; her -drums rumbled on the battlements of the keep where the women and -children had been gathered, a dumb, panic-ridden flock, huddled together -like sheep in a pen. The great banner flapped above their heads with a -solemn and sinuous benediction. The sun was spreading on the sea a -golden track towards the west, and the shouts of the besiegers rose from -the courts. - -On the stairs and in the banqueting hall the last remnant of the -garrison had gathered, half-starved men, silent and grim as death, game -to the last finger. They handled their swords and waited, moving -restlessly to and fro like caged leopards. They knew what was to come, -and hungered to have it over and done with. It was the waiting that -made them curse in undertones. A few were at prayer on the stone steps. -Father Julian stood with his crucifix at the top of the stairway, and -began to chant the "Miserere"; some few voices followed him. - -In the inner court Colgran's men surged in their hundreds like an -impatient sea. They had trampled down the garden, overthrown the urns -and statues, pulped the flowers under their feet. On the outer walls -archers marked every window of the keep. In the inner court cannoneers -were training the gaping muzzle of a bombard against the gate. A sullen -and perpetual clamour sounded round the grey walls, like the roar of -breakers about a headland. - -Flavian stood on the dais of the banqueting hall and listened to the -voices of the mob without. Yeoland, in the harness Fulviac had given -her, held at his side. The man's beaver was up, and he looked pale, but -calm and resolute as a Greek god. That morning his own armour, blazoned -with the Gambrevault arms, had disappeared from his bed-side, a suit of -plain black harness left in its stead. No amount of interrogation, no -command, had been able to wring a word from his knights or esquires. So -he wore the black armour now perforce, and prepared to fight his last -fight like a gentleman and a Christian. - -Yeoland's hand rested in his, and they stood side by side like two -children, looking into each other's eyes. There was no fear on the -girl's face, nothing but a calm resolve to be worthy of the hour and of -her love, that buoyed her like a martyr. The man's glances were very -sad, and she knew well what was in his heart when he looked at her. -They had taken their vows, vows that bound them not to survive each -other. - -"Are you afraid, little wife?" - -"No, I am content." - -"Strange that we should come to this. My heart grieves for you." - -"Never grieve for me; I do not fear the unknown." - -"We shall go out hand in hand." - -"To the shore of that eternal sea; and I feel no wind, and hear no -moaning of the bar." - -"The stars are above us." - -"Eternity." - -"No mere glittering void." - -"But the face of God." - -A cannon thundered; a sudden, sullen roar followed, a din of clashing -swords, the noise of men struggling in the toils. - -"They have broken in." - -Flavian's grasp tightened on her wrist; his face was rigid, his eyes -stern. - -"Be strong," he said. - -"I am not afraid." - -"The Virgin bless you." - -The uproar increased below. The rebels were storming the stairway; they -came up and up like a rising tide in the mazes of a cavern. A wave of -struggling figures surged into the hall: men, cursing, stabbing, hewing, -writhing on the floor, a tangle of humanity. Flavian's knights in the -hall ranged themselves to hold the door. - -It was then that Flavian saw his own state armour doing duty in the -press, its blazonings marking out the wearer to the swords of Colgran's -men. It was Godamar, Flavian's esquire, who had stolen his lord's -harness, and now fought in it to decoy death, and perhaps save his -master. The mute heroism of the deed drew Flavian from the dais. - -"I would speak with Godamar," he said. - -"Do not leave me." - -"Ah! dear heart; when the last wave gathers I shall be at your side." - -Yeoland, with her poniard bare in her hand, stood and watched the tragic -despair of that last fight, the struggling press of figures at the -door--the few holding for a while a mob at bay. Her eyes followed the -man in the black harness; she saw him before the tossing thicket of -pikes and partisans; she saw his sword dealing out death in that Gehenna -of blasphemy and blood. - -A crash of shattered glass came unheard in the uproar. Men had planted -ladders against the wall, and broken in by the oriel; one after another -they sprang down into the hall. The first crept round by the -wainscotting, climbed the dais, seized Yeoland from behind, and held her -fast. - -As by instinct the poniard had been pointed at her own throat; the thing -was twisted out of her hand, and tossed away along the floor. She -struggled with the man in a kind of frenzy, but his brute strength was -too stiff and stark for her. Even above the moil and din Flavian heard -her cry to him, turned, sprang back, to be met by the men who had -entered by the oriel. They hemmed him round and hewed at him, as he -charged like a boar at bay. One, two were down. Swords rang on his -harness. A fellow dodged in from behind and stabbed at him under the -arm. Yeoland saw the black figure reel, recover itself, reel again, as -a partisan crashed through his vizor. His sword clattered to the floor. -So Colgran's men cut the Lord Flavian down in the sight of his young -wife. - -The scene appeared to transfer itself to an infinite distance; a mist -came before the girl's eyes; the uproar seemed far, faint, and unreal. -She tried to cry out, but no voice came; she strove to move, but her -limbs seemed as stone. A sound like the surging of a sea sobbed in her -ears, and she had a confused vision of men being hunted down and stabbed -in the corners of the hall. A mob of wolf-like beings moved before her, -cursing, cheering, brandishing smoking steel. She felt herself lifted -from her feet, and carried breast-high in a man's arms. Then oblivion -swept over her brain. - - - - - PART IV - - - - XXXVII - - -Fortune had not blessed the cause of the people with that torrential -triumph toiled for by their captains. The flood of war had risen, had -overwhelmed tall castles and goodly cities, yet there were heights that -had baulked its frothy turmoil, mountains that had hurled it back upon -the valleys. Victory was like a sphere of glass tossed amid the foam of -two contending torrents. - -In the west, Sir Simon of Imbrecour, that old leopard wise in war, had -raised the royal banner at his castle of Avray. The nobles of the -western marches had joined him to a spear; many a lusty company had -ridden in, to toss sword and shield in faith to the King. From his -castle of Avray Sir Simon had marched south with the flower of the -western knighthood at his heels. He had caught Malgo on the march from -Conan, even as his columns were defiling from the mountains. Sir Simon -had leapt upon the wild hillsmen and rebel levies like the fierce and -shaggy veteran that he was. A splendid audacity had given the day as by -honour to the royal arms. Malgo's troops had been scattered to the -winds, and he himself taken and beheaded on the field under the black -banner of the house of Imbrecour. - -In the east, Godamar the free-lance lay with his troops in Thorney Isle, -closed in and leaguered by the warlike Abbot of Rocroy. The churchman -had seized the dyke-ways of the fens, and had hemmed the rebels behind -the wild morasses. As for the eastern folk, they were poor gizardless -creatures; having faced about, they had declared for the King, and left -Godamar to rot within the fens. The free-lance had enough ado to keep -the abbot out. His marching to join Fulviac was an idle and -strategetical dream. - -Last of all, the barons of the north--fierce, rugged autocrats, had -gathered their half-barbarous retainers, and were marching on Lauretia -to uphold the King. They were grim folk, flint and iron, nurtured amid -the mountains and the wild woods of the north. They marched south like -Winter, black and pitiless, prophetic of storm-winds, sleet, and snow. -Some forty thousand men had gathered round the banner of Sir Morolt of -Gorm and Regis, and, like the Goths pouring into Italy, they rolled down -upon the luxurious provinces of the south. - -Fortune had decreed that about Lauretia, the city of the King, the -vultures of war should wet their talons. It was a rich region, gemmed -thick with sapphire meres set in deep emerald woods. Lauretia, like a -golden courtesan, lay with her white limbs cushioned amid gorgeous -flowers. Her bosom was full of odours and of music; her lap littered -with the fragrant herbs of love. No perils, save those of moonlit -passion, had ever threatened her. Thus it befell that when the -storm-clouds gathered, she cowered trembling on her ivory couch, the -purple wine of pleasure soaking her sinful feet. - -In a broad valley, five leagues south of the city, Fulviac's rebels -fought their first great fight with Richard of the Iron Hand. A -warrior's battle, rank to rank and sword to sword, the fight had burnt -to the embers before the cressets were red in the west. Fulviac had -headed the last charge that had broken the royal line, and rolled the -shattered host northwards under the cloak of night. Dawn had found -Fulviac marching upon Lauretia, eager to let loose the lusts of war upon -that rich city of sin. He was within three leagues of the place, when a -jaded rider overtook him, to tell of Malgo's death and of the battle in -the west. Yet another league towards the city his outriders came -galloping back with the news that the northern barons had marched in and -joined the King. Outnumbered, and threatened on the flank, Fulviac -turned tail and held south again, trusting to meet Godamar marching from -the fens. - -He needed the shoulders of an Atlas those September days, for rumour -burdened him with tidings that were ominous and heavy. Godamar lay -impotent, hedged in the morasses; Malgo was dead, his mountaineers -scattered. Sir Simon of Imbrecour was leading in the western lords to -swell the following of the King. Vengeance gathered hotly on the rebel -rear, as Fulviac retreated by forced marches towards the south. - -It was at St. Gore, a red-roofed town packed on a hill, amid tall, -dreaming woods, that Colgran, with the ten thousand who had leaguered -Gambrevault, drew to the main host again. Fulviac had quartered a -portion of his troops in the town, and had camped the rest in the -meadows without the crumbling, lichen-grown walls. He had halted but -for a night on the retreat from Lauretia, and had taken a brief breath -in the moil and sweat of the march. His banner had been set up in the -market-square before a rickety hostel of antique tone and temper. His -guards lounged on the benches under the vines; his captains drank in the -low-ceilinged rooms, swore and argued over the rough tables. - -It was evening when Colgran's vanguard entered the town by the western -gate. His men had tramped all day in the sun, and were parched and -weary. None the less, they stiffened their loins, and footed it through -the streets with a veteran swagger to show their mettle. Fulviac came -out and stood in the wooden gallery of the inn, watching them defile -into the market-square. They tossed their pikes to him as they poured -by, and called on him by name-- - -"Fulviac, Fulviac!" - -He was glad enough of their coming, for he needed men, and the rough -forest levies were in Colgran's ranks. Ten thousand pikes and brown -bills to bristle up against the King's squadrons! There was strength in -the glitter and the rolling dust of the columns. Yet before all, the -man's tawny eyes watched for a red banner, and a woman in armour upon a -white horse, Yeoland, wife of Flavian of Gambrevault. - -In due season he saw her, a pale, spiritless woman, wan and haggard, -thin of neck and dark of eye. The bloom seemed to have fallen from her -as from the crushed petals of a rose. The red banner, borne by a man -upon a black horse, danced listlessly upon its staff. She rode with -slack bridle, looking neither to the right hand nor to the left, but -into the vague distance as into the night of the past. - -Around her tramped Colgran's pikemen in jerkins of leather and caps of -steel. The woman moved with them as though they were so many -substanceless ghosts, stalking like shadows down the highway of death. -Her face was bloodless, bleached by grievous apathy and chill pride. -The bronzed faces round her were dim and unreal, a mob of masks, void of -life and meaning. Sorrow had robed her in silent snow. The present was -no more propitious to her than a winter forest howling under the moon. - -Before the hostelry the column came to a halt with grounded pikes. The -woman on the white horse stirred from her stupor, looked up, and saw -Fulviac. He was standing with slouched shoulders in the gallery above -her, his hands gripping the wooden rail. Their eyes met in a sudden -mesmeric stare that brought badges of red to the girl's white cheeks. -There was the look upon his face that she had known of old, when -perilous care weighed heavy upon his stubborn shoulders. His eyes -bewildered her. They had a light in them that spoke neither of anger -nor reproach, yet a look such as Arthur might have cast upon fallen -Guinivere. - -They took her from her horse, and led her mute and passive into the -steel-thronged inn. Up a winding stair she was brought into a sombre -room whose latticed casements looked towards the west. By an open -window stood Fulviac, chin on chest, his huge hands clasped behind his -back. Colgran, in dusky harness, was speaking to him in his rough, -incisive jargon. The woman knew that the words concerned her heart. At -a gesture from Fulviac, the free-lance cast a fierce glance at her, and -retreated. - -The man did not move from the window, but stood staring in morose -silence at the reddening west. Hunched shoulders and bowed head gave a -certain powerful pathos to the figure statuesque and silent against the -crimson curtain of the sky. The very air of the room seemed burdened -and saturated with the gloomy melancholy of the man's mood. War, with -its thousand horrors, furrowed his brow and bowed his great shoulders -beneath its bloody yoke. Her woman's instinct told her that he was -lonely, for the soul that had ministered to him breathed for him no -more. - -He turned on her suddenly with a terse greeting that startled her -thoughts like doves in a pine wood. - -"Welcome to you, Lady of Gambrevault." - -There was a bluff bitterness in his voice that forewarned her of his -ample wisdom. Colgran had surrendered her, heart and tragedy in one, to -Fulviac's mercy. A looming cloud of passion shadowed the man's face, -making him seem gaunt and rough to her for the moment. She remembered -him standing over Duessa's body in Sforza's palace at Gilderoy. Life -had too little promise for her to engender fear of any man, even of -Fulviac at his worst. - -"I trust, Madame Yeoland, that you are merry?" - -The taunt touched her, yet she answered him listlessly enough. - -"Do what you will; scoff if it pleases you." - -Fulviac shrugged his shoulders, and tossed his lion's mane from his -broad forehead. - -"It is a grim world this," he said; "when thrones burn, should we seek -to quench them with our tears! Whose was the fault that God made you too -much a woman? Red heart, heart of the rose, a traitorous comrade art -thou, and an easy foe." - -She had no answer on her lips, and he turned and paced the room before -her, darting swift glances into her face. - -"So they killed him?" he said, more quietly anon; "poor child, forget -him, it was the fate of war. Even to the grave he took the love I might -never wear." - -She shuddered and hid her face. - -"Fulviac, have pity!" - -"Pity?" - -"This is a judgment, God help my soul!" - -"A judgment?" - -"For serving my own heart before the Virgin's words." - -The man stopped suddenly in his stride, and looked at her as though her -words had touched him like a bolt betwixt the jointings of his harness. -There was still the morose frown upon his face, the half closure of the -lids over the tawny eyes. He gripped his chin with one of his bony -hands, and turned his great beak of a nose upwards with a gesture of -self-scorn. - -"Since the damned chicanery of chance so wills it," he said, "I will -confess to you, that my confession may ease your conscience. The -Madonna in that forest chapel was framed of flesh and blood." - -"Fulviac!" - -"Of flesh and blood, my innocent, tricked out to work my holy will. We -needed a Saint, we cleansers of Christendom; ha, noble justiciaries that -we are. Well, well, the Virgin served us, and tripped back to a warm -nest at Gilderoy, reincarnated by high heaven." - -Yeoland stood motionless in the shadows of the room, like one striving -to reason amid the rush of many thoughts. She showed no wrath at her -betrayal; her pale soul was too white for scarlet passion. The -significance of life had vanished in a void of gloom. She stood like -Hero striving to catch her lover's voice above the moan of the sea. - -Fulviac unbuckled his sword and threw it with a crash upon the table. -He thrust his arms above his head, stretched his strong sinews, took -deep breaths into his knotted throat. - -"The truth is out," he said to her; "come, madame, confess to me in -turn." - -Yeoland faced him with quivering lips, and a tense straining of her -fingers. - -"What have I to tell?" she asked. - -"Nothing?" - -"Save that I loved the Lord Flavian, and that he is dead." - -"Sufficient unto the day is the evil thereof." - -"Ah, you are avenged," she said, "you have crushed my heart; may the -thought comfort you." - -Her parched apathy seemed to elapse of a sudden, and she lost her -calmness in an outburst of passion. She was athirst for solitude, to be -cloistered from the rough cavil of the world. Colour glowed upon her -sunken cheeks as she stretched out her arms to the man with a piteous -vehemence. - -"Fulviac----" - -"Girl." - -"Ah, for God's love, end now this mockery. Take this armour from me, -for it burns my bosom. Let me go, that I may hide my wounds in peace." - -"Peace!" he said, with a twinge of scorn. - -"Fulviac, can you not pity me? I am broken and bruised, men stare and -jeer. Oh, my God, only to be out of sight and alone!" - -The man stood by the window looking out into the sky with lowering -brows. The west burnt red above the house-tops; from the street came -the noise of men marching. - -"Do not kill yourself," he said with laconic brevity. - -"Why do you say that?" - -"There is truth in the suspicion." - -"Ah, what is life to me!" - -"We Christians still have need of you." - -The man's seeming scorn scourged her anguish to a shrill despair. The -hot blood swept more swiftly through her worn, white body. - -"Cursed be your ambition," she said to him; "must you torture me before -the world?" - -"Perhaps." - -"I renounce this lying part." - -"As you will, madame; it will only make you look the greater fool." - -"Ah, you are brutal." - -He turned to her with the look of one enduring unuttered anguish in the -spirit. His strong pride throttled passion, twisting his rough face -into tragic ugliness. - -"No, believe it not," he said; "I desire even for your heart's sake that -you should make the best of an evil fortune. Learn to smile again; -pretend to a zest in life. I have fathomed hell in my grim years, and my -words are true. Time loves youth and recovers its sorrow. Know this -and ponder it: 'tis better to play the hypocrite than to suffer the -world to chuckle over one's tears." - - - - - XXXVIII - - -The royal host had massed about the walls of Lauretia, and marched -southwards to surprise Fulviac at St. Gore. Half the chivalry of the -land had gathered under the standard of the King. Sir Simon of -Imbrecour had come in from the west with ten thousand spears and five -thousand bowmen. The Northerners under Morolt boasted themselves -twoscore thousand men, and there were the loyal levies of the midland -provinces to march under "The Golden Sun" upon the south. Never had -such panoply of war glittered through the listening woods. Their march -was as the onrush of a rippling sea; the noise of their trumpets as the -cry of a tempest over towering trees. - -Chivalry, golden champion of beauty, had much to avenge, much to -expurgate. The peasant folk had plunged the land into ruin and red war. -Castles smoked under the summer sky; the noble dead lay unburied in the -high places of pride. To the wolf cry of the people there could be no -answer save the hiss of the sword. Before the high altar at Lauretia, -the King had sworn on relics and the Scriptures, to deal such vengeance -as should leave the land cowering for centuries in terror of his name. - -Southwards from St. Gore there stretched for some fifteen leagues the -province of La Belle Foret, a region of rich valleys and romantic woods, -green and quiet under the tranquil sky. Its towns were mere gardens, -smothered deep in flowers, full of cedars and fair cypresses. Its -people were simple, happy, and devout. War had not set foot there for -two generations, and the land overflowed with the good things of life. -Its vineyards purpled the valleys; its pastures harboured much cattle. -Its houses were filled with rich furniture and silks, chests laden with -cloth of gold, caskets of gems, ambries packed with silver plate. The -good folk of La Belle Foret had held aloof from the revolt. -Peace-loving and content in their opulence, they had no fondness for -anarchy and war. - -It was into this fair province that Fulviac led his arms on the march -south for Gilderoy and the great forest by the sea. Belle Foret, -neutral and luxurious, was spoil for the spoiler, stuff for the sword. -Plundering, marauding, burning, butchering, Fulviac's rebels poured -through like a host of Huns. Strength promised licence; there was -little asceticism in the cause, though the sacred banner flew in the van -with an unction that was truly pharisaical. From that flood of war, the -provincials fled as from a plague. It was Fulviac's policy to devastate -the land, to hinder the march of the royal host. Desolation spread like -winter over the fields; Fulviac's ravagers left ruin and despair and a -great silence to mark their track. - -The march became a bloody parable before three days had passed. Fulviac -had taken burning faggots upon his back, and the iron collar of war -weighed heavy on him that autumn season. It was a grim moral and a -terrible. He had called up fiends from hell, and their antics mocked -him. Storm as he would, even his strong wrath was like fire licking at -granite. Death taunted him, and Murder rode as a witness at his side. -The mob of mad humanity was like a ravenous sea, hungry, pitiless, and -insatiate. Even his stout heart was shocked by the bestial passions war -had roused. His men were mutinous to all restraint. Fight they would -when he should marshal them; but for their lusts they claimed a -wolf-like and delirious liberty. - -Yeoland the Saint rode on her white horse through La Belle Foret, like a -pale ghost dazed by the human miseries of war. A captive, she had -surrendered herself to Fate; her heart was as a sea-bird wearied by long -buffetings in the wind. There was no desire in her for life, no spark -of passion, no hope save for the sounding of a convent bell. She -imagined calmly the face of death. Her grave stretched green and quiet -to her fancy, under some forest tree. - -Even her hebetude of soul gave way at last before the horrors of that -bloody march. She saw towns smouldering and flames licking the night -sky, heard walls crack and roofs fall with a roar and an uprushing of -fire. She saw the peasant folk crouching white and stupefied about -their ruined homes. She heard the cry of the children, the wailing of -women, the cracked voices of old men cursing Fulviac as he rode by. She -saw the crops burnt in the fields; cattle slaughtered and their carcases -left to rot in the sun. - -The deeds of those grim days moved in her brain with a vividness that -never abated. War with all its ruthlessness, its devilry, its riotous -horror, burnt in upon her soul. The plash of blood, the ruin, the -despair, appalled her till she yearned and hungered for the end. Life -seemed to have become a hideous purgatory, flaming and shrieking under -the stars. - -She appealed to Fulviac with the vehemence of despair. The man was -obdurate and moody, burdened by the knowledge that these horrors were -beyond him. His very impotence was bitterness itself to his strong -spirit. In the silent passion of his shame, he buckled a sullen scorn -about his manhood, scoffed and mocked when the woman pleaded. He was -like a Titan struggling in the toils of Fate, flinging forth scorn to -mask his anguish. He had let war loose upon the land, and the riot -mocked him like a turbulent sea. - -One noon they rode together through a town that had closed its gates to -them, and had been taken by assault. On the hills around stood the -solemn woods watching in silence the scene beneath. Corpses stiffened -in the gutters; children shrieked in burning attics. By the cross in -the market-square soldiers were staving in wine casks, the split lees -mingling with the blood upon the cobbles. Ruffians rioted in the -streets. Lust and violence were loose like wolves. - -Fulviac clattered through the place with Yeoland and his guards, a tower -of steel amid the reeking ruins. He looked neither to the right hand -nor the left, but rode with set jaw and sullen visage for the southern -gate, and the green quiet of the fields. His tawny eyes smouldered -under his casque; his mouth was as stone, stern yet sorrowful. He spoke -never a word, as though his thoughts were too grim for the girl's ears. - -Yeoland rode at his side in silence, shivering in thought at the scenes -that had passed before her eyes. She was as a lily whose pure petals -quailed before the sprinkling plash of blood. Her soul was of too -delicate a texture for the rude blasts of war. - -She turned on Fulviac anon, and taunted him out of the fulness of her -scorn. - -"This is your crusade for justice," she said to him; "ah, there is a -curse upon us. You have let fiends loose." - -He did not retort to her for the moment, but rode gazing into the gilded -glories of the woods. Even earth's peace was bitter to him at that -season, but bitterer far was the woman's scorn. - -"War is war," he said to her at last; "we cannot leave the King fat -larders." - -"And all this butchery, this ruin?" - -"Blame war for it." - -"And brutal men." - -"Mark you," he said to her, with some deepening of his voice, "I am no -god; I cannot make angels of devils. The sea has risen, can I cork it in -a bottle, or tie the storm wind up in a sack? Give me my due. I am -human, not a demi-god." - -She understood his mood, and pitied him in measure, for he had a burden -on his soul sufficient for a Hercules. His men were half mutinous; they -would fight for him, but he could not stem their lusts. He was as a -stout ship borne upon the backs of riotous waves. - -"Well would it have been," she said, "if you had never raised this -storm." - -"It is easy to be wise at the eleventh hour," he answered her. - -"Can you not stay it even now?" - -"Woman, can I stem the sea!" - -"The blood of thousands dyes your hands." - -He twisted in the saddle as though her words gored him to the quick. -His face twitched, his eyes glittered. - -"My God, keep silence!" - -"Fulviac." - -"Taunt me no longer. Have I not half hell boiling in my heart?" - -Thus Fulviac and his rebels passed on spoiling towards Gilderoy and the -sea, where Sforza lay camped with forces gathered from the south. The -great forest beckoned them; they knew its trammels, and hoped for -strategies therein. Like a vast web of gloom it proffered harbour to the -wolves of war, for they feared the open, and the vengeful onrush of the -royal chivalry. - -Meanwhile, the armies of the King came down upon Belle Foret, a great -horde of steel. From its black ashes the country welcomed them with the -dumb lips of death. Ruin and slaughter appealed them on the march; the -smoke of war ascended to their nostrils. Fierce was the cry for -vengeance in the ranks, as the host poured on like a golden dawn -treading on the dark heels of night. - - - - - XXXIX - - -In a cave whose narrow mouth cut a rough cameo from the snow and azure -of the sky, a man lay sleeping upon a bed of heather. The surge of the -sea rose from the bastions of the cliff, where foam glittered and -swirled over the black rocks that thrust their dripping brows above the -tide. Gulls were winging over the waves, whose green crests shone -brilliant under the sun. On a distant headland, bleak and sombre, the -towers of a castle broke the turquoise crescent of the heavens. - -In one corner of the cave a feeble fire flickered, the smoke therefrom -curling along the roof to vanish in a thin blue plume of vapour. Beside -the bed lay a pile of armour, with a broken casque like a cleft skull to -crown it. Dried herbs and a loaf of rye bread lay on a flat boulder -near the fire. The figure on the heather was covered by a stained yet -gorgeously blazoned surcoat, that seemed an incongruous quilt for such a -couch. Near the cave's entry a great axe glittered on the floor, an axe -whose notched edge had tested the metal of many a bassinet. - -Down a rough path cut in the face of the cliff scrambled a gaunt, -hollow-chested figure, doubleted in soiled scarlet, battered shoes on -feet, a black beard bristling on the stubborn chin. A red cloth was -bound about the man's head. He breathed hard as he clambered down the -cliff, as though winded by fast running. Sweat stood on his forehead. -Beneath him ran the sea, a pit of foam, swirling and muttering amid the -rocks. - -He reached the entry of the cave and dived therein like a fox into an -"earth." Standing by the bed, he looked for a moment at the unconscious -figure with the air of one unwilling to wake a weary comrade from his -sleep. At last he went down on his knees by the heather, and touched -the sleeping man's cheek with the gentle gesture of a woman. The figure -stirred at the touch; two thin hands groped over the green and azure -quilt. The kneeling man gripped them in his great brown paws, and held -them fast. - -"Modred." - -The voice was toneless, husky, and without spirit. - -"Sire." - -"Ah, these waking moments. It had been better if you had let me rot in -Gambrevault." - -"Courage, sire, you wake to a better fortune." - -"There is new life in your voice." - -"The King has come at last." - -The man on the heather raised himself upon one elbow. His face looked -grey and starved in the half gloom of the cave. He lifted up one hand -with a gesture of joy. - -"The King!" - -Modred of the black beard smiled at him like a father. His hands -trembled as he put the man back gently on the heather, and smoothed the -coverlet. - -"Lie still, sire." - -"Ah, this is life, once more." - -"Patience, patience. Let us have no woman's moods, no raptures. Ha, I -am a tyrannous dog. Did I drag you for dead out of Gambrevault to let -you break your heart over Richard of Lauretia! Lie quiet, sire; you -have no strength to gamble with as yet." - -The man on the heather reached out again for Modred's hand. - -"The rough dog should have been born a woman," he said to him. - -Modred laughed. - -"There is a great heart under that hairy chest of yours." - -The moist mutterings of the sea came up to them from the rocky shore -beneath. Clouds in white masses pressed athwart the arch of day. -Modred, seated on a boulder beside the bed, eyed the prostrate figure -thereon with a gaunt and tender pity. He was a stark man and strenuous, -yet warm of heart for all his bull's strength and steely sinew. Youth -lay at his feet, thin and impotent, a white willow wand quivering beside -a black and knotty oak. - -Modred rose up and stood by the opening of the cave, his broad shoulders -well-nigh filling the entry as he looked out over the sea. Far over the -amethystine waters, a hundred pearl-white sails glimmered beyond the -cliffs of Gambrevault. The sun smote on gilded prow and blazoned -bulwark, and upon a thousand streamers tonguing to the breeze. - -Modred stretched out his great arms and smiled, a grim shimmer of joy -over his ruffian's face. Standing at the mouth of the cave, he began to -speak to the man couched in the inner gloom. - -"Yonder, beyond Gambrevault," he said, "I see a hundred sails treading -towards us over the sea. They are the King's ships: God cherish them; -their bulwarks gleam in the sun." - -Flavian twisted restlessly amid the heather. - -"A grand sight, old friend." - -Modred stood silent, fingering his chin. His voice broke forth again -with a bluff exultation that seemed to echo the roar of the waves. - -"St. Philip, that is well." - -"More ships?" - -"Nay, sire, they raise the royal banner on the keep of Gambrevault. I -see spears shine. Listen to the shouting. The King's men hold the -headland." - -This time the voice from the cave was less eager, and tinged with pain. - -"Modred, old friend, I lie here like a stone while the trumpets call to -me." - -"Sire, say not so." - -"Ah, for an hour's youth again, one day in the sun, one moment under the -moon." - -"Sire, I would change with you if God would grant it me." - -"Bless you, old friend; I would not grant it you if I were God." - -A trumpet cried to them from the cliff, sudden, shrill, and imperious. -Modred, leaning against the rock with his hand over his eyes, started -from the cave, and began to climb the path. He muttered and swore into -his beard as he ascended, queer oaths, spasmodic and fantastic. His -black eyes were hazy for the moment. Contemptuous and fervid, he -brushed the tears away with a great brown hand. - -On the green downs above him rolling to the peerless sky, he saw armour -gleam and banners blush. A fanfare of trumpets rolled over the sea. It -was Richard the King. - -Modred bent at the royal stirrup, and kissed the jewelled hand. Above -him a keen, steely-eyed visage looked out from beneath a gold-crowned -bassinet. It was the face of a soldier and a tyrant, handsome, haughty, -yet opulently gracious. The red lips curled under the black tusks of -the long moustache. The big, clean-shaven jaw was a promontory of -marble thrust forth imperiously over the world. - -"Well, man, what of our warden?" - -Modred crossed himself, pointed to the cliff, muttered a few words into -the King's ear. - -"So," came the terse response, "that was an evil fortune. So splendid a -youth, a bright beam of chivalry. Come, lead me to him." - -The royal statue of steel dismounted and stalked down with knights and -heralds towards the cliff. Leaning upon Modred's shoulder, Richard of -the Iron Hand trod the rough path leading to the little cave. He bowed -his golden crown at the entry, stooped like a suppliant, stood before -the Lord Flavian's bed. - -The gloom troubled him for a moment. Anon, he saw the recumbent figure -on the heather, the pile of harness, the brown loaf, and the meagre -fire. He throned himself on the boulder beside the bed, and laid a -white hand on the sick man's shoulder. - -"Lie still," he said, as Flavian turned to rise; "to-day, my lord, we -can forego ceremony." - -Courtesy is the golden crown of power, forged from a poet's song, and -the wisdom of the gods. The royal favour donned its robe of red that -day, proffered its gracious signet to the lips of praise, held forth the -sceptre of a radiant pity. Even the iron of truth becomes as silver on -the lips of kings. Justice herself flatters, when ranged in simple -white before a royal throne. - -"My Lord of Gambrevault," quoth Richard of the Iron Hand, "be it known -to you that your stout walls have saved my kingdom. You held the -barbican of loyalty till true friends rallied to the country's citadel. -Bravely have you sounded your clarions in the gate of fame. My lord, I -give to you the gratitude of a king." - -Flattery strutted in the cave, gathering her robes with jewelled hand, -gorgeous as an Eastern queen. Concerning the fate of a certain rebel -Saint, the royal pardon waxed patriarchal in laconic phrases. - -"Say no more, my lord; the boon is yours. Have I not a noble woman -queening it beside me on my throne, flinging the beams of her bright -eyes through all my life? This quest shall be heralded to the host; I -will offer gold for the damsel's capture. Take this ring from me, no -pledge as betwixt Jews, but as a talisman of good to come." - -So spoke the royal gratitude. When the King had gone, Modred returned -to carry his lord heavenwards to the meadows. He found him prone upon -the heather, covering his eyes with his thin hands as the western -sunlight streaked the gloom. - -"Sire," said Modred, kneeling down beside the bed. - -The effigy on the heather stirred itself and reached out a hand into -Modred's bosom. - -"Man, man, I am in great darkness of soul. Who shall comfort me!" - -Modred bent to him, laid a great palm on the white forehead. - -"Courage, sire, courage." - -"Ah, the pity of it, to lie here like a log when swords ring and peril -threatens her." - -"Sire, we shall win her back again." - -"My God, only to touch her hands once more, to feel the warmth of her -pure bosom, and the thrill of her rich hair." - -"We shall win her, sire. Doubt it not." - -"All life is a doubt." - -"Before God, I swear it!" - -"Modred!" - -"Before God, I swear it!" - -He sprang up, thrust out his arms till the sinews cracked, filled his -great chest with the breath of the sea. Suddenly he stopped, strained at -a rock lying at the cave's mouth, lifted it, and hurled it from him, saw -it smite foam from the water beneath. - -"Fate, take my gauge," he cried, with a fierce glorying in his strength; -"come, sire, put your hands about my neck. I will bear you to your -castle of Gambrevault." - - - - - XL - - -Fulviac and his rebels had plunged into the great pine forest for refuge -from the multitudinous glitter of the royal spears. The wilderness -engulfed them, throwing wide its sable gates to take the war wolves in. -The trees moaned like tall sibyls burdened with prophetic woe. The gold -had long fallen from the gorse; the heather's purple hills were dim. -Mystery abode there; a sound as of tragedy rose with the hoarse piping -of the autumn wind. - -From the north and from the west the royal "arms" had drawn as a -glittering net towards the sea of pines. A myriad splendid warriors -streaked the wilds, like rich rods flowering at some magic trumpet cry. -The King's host swept the hills, their banners blazing towards the -solemn woods. Gambrevault was theirs, and Avalon of the Mere. Morolt's -northerners had marched upon Geraint, to find it a dead city, empty of -life and of human sound. Only Gilderoy stood out for Fulviac. The King -had failed to leaguer it as yet, for reasons cherished in his cunning -brain. - -Some twoscore thousand men had marched with Fulviac into the forest's -sanctuary. Over the hills the royal horse had pressed them hard, -cutting down stragglers, hanging on their rear. Fulviac's host was a -horde of "foot"; he had not a thousand riders to hurl against the -chivalry of the King. On the bold, bleak uplands of the north and west -the royal horsemen would have whelmed him like a sea. Necessity turned -strategist at that hour. Fulviac and his rebels poured with their -stagnant columns into the wilds. - -The thickets teemed with steel; the myriad pike points glittered like -silver moths through the dense green gloom. Once more the great cliff -echoed to the clangour of war and the sword. Fulviac had drawn thither -and camped his men upon the heights, and under the shadow of its mighty -walls. Watch-fires smoked on the hills. Every alley had its sentinel, -a net of steel thrown forth to await the coming of the King. Fulviac -had gathered his cubs into this lair, trusting to trammel the nobles in -the labyrinths of the forest. It was a forlorn hope, the cunning -purpose of despair. The spoilers of Belle Foret were wise in their -generation; little mercy would they win from the Iron Hand of Richard of -Lauretia. - -Like a pale pearl set in ebony, Yeoland the Saint had been established -again in her bower of stone. The room was even as she had left it that -misty summer dawn. Prayer-desk, lute, and crucifix were there, mute -relics of a passionate past. How much had befallen her in those packed -weeks of peril; how great a guerdon of woe had been lavished on her -heart! Love was as the last streak of gold in a fading west; only the -stars recalled the unwavering lamps of heaven. - -The cliff-room and its relics tortured her very soul. She would glance -at the Sebastian of the casement, and remember with a shuddering rush of -woe the man in whose arms she had slumbered as a wife. Death had -deified him in her heart. She remembered his grey eyes, his splendid -youth, his passion, his pure chivalry. He gazed down on her like a -dream hero from a gloom of dusky gold. The bitter ecstasy of the past -spoke to her only of the infinite beneficence of death. The grave -yearned for her, and she had no hope to live. - -Those drear days she saw little of Fulviac. The man seemed to shirk her -pale, sad face and brooding eyes. Her grief stung him more fiercely than -all the flames nurtured in the glowing pit of war. Moreover, he was -cumbered with the imminent peril of his cause, and the facing of a -stormy fortune. His one hope lay in some great battle in the woods, -where the King's mailed chivalry would be cumbered by the trees. He -made many a feint to tempt the nobles to this wild tussle. The cliff -stood as adamant, a vast bulwark to uphold the rebels. Yet Nature -threatened him with other arguments. His stores were meagre, his mouths -many. Victory and starvation dangled upon the opposing beams of Fate. - -If Fulviac feared procrastination, Richard of Lauretia favoured the -same. Wise sluggard that he was, he curbed the vengeance of his -clamorous soldiery, content to temporise with the inevitable trend of -fortune. His light horse scoured the country, garnering food and forage -from the fat lands north of Geraint. Time fought for him, and the -starving wolves were trapped. Sufficient was it that he held his -crescent of steel upon the hills, leaving unguarded the barren wilds -that rolled on Gilderoy towards the east. - -A week passed, dull and lustreless. The forest waved dark and solemn -under the autumn sky; no torrents of steel gushed from its sable gates; -no glittering squadrons plunged into its shadows. The King's men lay -warm about their watch-fires on the hills, fattening on good food, -tingling for the trumpet cry that should herald the advance. Richard of -the Iron Hand smiled and passed the hours at chess in his great pavilion -pitched on the slopes towards Geraint. Simon of Imbrecour held the -southern marches; Morolt and his northerners guarded the west. - -It was grey weather, sullen and storm-laden, eerie of voice. The Black -Wild tossed like a sombre sea over hill and valley, its spires rocking -under the scurrying sky, its myriad galleries shrill with the cry of the -wind. There was no rest there, no breathless silence under the frail -moon. The trees moaned like a vast choir wailing the downfall of a god. -The wild seemed full of death, and of the dead, as though the souls of -those slaughtered in the war screamed about Fulviac's lair. The -sentinels, grey figures in a sombre atmosphere, watched white-faced in -the thickets. The clarions of the storm might mask the onrush of the -royal chivalry. - -Yeoland the Saint lay full length upon a carved settle before a dying -fire. She was listening to the wind as it roared over the cliff, amid -the shrill clamour of the trees. It was such an eve as when Flavian had -rattled at the postern to offer her love, and a throne at Avalon. She -had spoken of war, and war had sundered them, given death to desire, and -a tomb to hope. The glow of the fire played upon the girl's face and -shone in her brooding eyes. Night was falling, and the gloom increased. - -She heard footsteps in the gallery, the clangour of a scabbard against -the rock. The door swung back, and Fulviac stood in the entry, clad in -full harness save for his casque. There were deep furrows upon his -forehead. His lids looked heavy from lack of sleep, and his eyes were -bloodshot. The tinge of grey in his tawny hair had increased to a web of -silver. - -He came in without a word, set his hands on the back of the settle, and -stared at the fire. Yeoland had started up; she sat huddled in the -angle, looking in his face with a mute surmise. Fulviac's face was -sorrowful, yet strong as steel; the lips were firm, the eyes sullen and -sad. He was as a man who stared ruin betwixt the brows, nor quailed -from the scrutiny though death stood ready on the threshold. - -"Cloak yourself," he said to her at last; "be speedy; buckle this purse -to your girdle." - -She sprang up as the leather pouch rattled on the settle, and stood -facing Fulviac with her back to the fire. - -"Whither do we ride?" - -"I send you under escort to Gilderoy." - -"And you?" - -He smiled, tightened his sword belt with a vicious gesture, and still -stared at the hearth. - -"My lot lies here," he said to her; "I meet my doom alone. What need to -drag you deeper into the dark?" - -She understood him on the instant, and the black thoughts moving in his -mind. Disasters thickened about the cliff; perils were clamorous as the -wind-rocked trees. Fulviac feared the worst; she knew that from his -face. - -"You send me to Gilderoy?" she said. - -"I have so determined it." - -"And why?" - -"Need you doubt my discretion?" - -The flames flashed and gleamed upon his breastplate, and deepened the -shadows upon his face. His eyes were sorrowful, yet full of a strenuous -fire. - -"The sky darkens," he said to her, "and the King's hosts watch the -forest. I had thought to draw them into the wilds, but the fox of -Lauretia has smelt a snare. Our stores lessen; we are in the last -trench." - -She moved away into a dark corner of the room, raised the carved lid of -a chest, and began to draw clothes therefrom, fingering them listlessly, -as though her thoughts wavered. Fulviac leant with folded arms upon the -settle, seemed even oblivious of her presence under the burden of his -fate. - -"Fulviac," she said at last, glancing at him over a drooping shoulder. - -He turned his head and looked at her. - -"Must I go then to Gilderoy?" - -"The road is open," he answered, with no obvious kindling of his -sympathy; "there will be bloody work here anon; you will be safer behind -stone walls." - -"And the King?" she asked him. - -He straightened suddenly, like a man tossing some great burden from off -his soul. - -"Ha, girl! are you blind as to what shall follow? Richard of the Iron -Hand waits for us with fivescore thousand men. We shall fight--by God, -yes!--and make a bloody end; there will be much slaughter and work for -the sword. The King will crush us as a falling rock crushes a scorpion. -There will be no mercy. Death waits. Put on that cloak of thine." - -She stood motionless a moment, listening to the moaning of the wind. -The man's grim spirit troubled her. She remembered that he had bulwarked -her in her homeless days, had dealt her much pity out of his rugged -heart. He was alone now, and shadowed by death. Thus it befell that she -cast the cloak aside upon the bed, and stood forward with quivering lips -before the fire. - -"Fulviac." - -"Little sister." - -"Ah! God pardon me; I have been a weak and graceless friend. You have -been good to me, beyond my gratitude. The past has gone for ever; what -is left to me now? Shall I not meet death at your side?" - -He stood back from her, looking in her eyes, breathing hard, combating -his own heart. He loved the girl in his fierce, staunch way; she was -the one light left him in the gathering gloom. Now death offered him -her soul. He tottered, stretched out his hands to her, snatched them -back with a great burst of pride. - -"No, this cannot be." - -"Ah!" - -"I have dared the storm; alone will I fall beneath its vengeance. You -shall go this night to Gilderoy." - -She thrust out her hands to him, but he turned away his face. - -"Ah! little sister, this war was conceived for God, but the devil -leavened it. I have gambled with fire, and the ashes return upon my -head. I give you life; 'tis little I may give. Come now, obey me, -these are my last words." - -She turned from him very quietly in the shadow, hiding her face with her -arm. Picking up her cloak, she drew it slowly about her shoulders, -Fulviac watching her, a pillar of steel. - -"They wait for you in the forest," he said; "go down the stair. Colgran -rides with you to Gilderoy. He is to be trusted." - -She drooped her head, staggered to the door, darted back again with a -low cry and a gush of tears. - -"Fulviac." - -"Little woman." - -"God keep you! Kiss me, this once." - -He bent to her, touched her forehead with his lips, thrust her again -towards the door. - -"Go, my child." - -And she went forth slowly from him, weeping, into the night. - - - - - XLI - - -The prophecies of the King proved the power of their pinions before -fourteen suns had passed over the Black Wild's heart. Richard of -Lauretia had plotted to starve Fulviac into giving him battle, or into a -retreat from the forest upon Gilderoy. The royal prognostications were -pitiless and unflinching as candescent steel. It was no mere -battle-ground that he sought, but rather an amphitheatre where he might -martyr the rebel host like a mob of revolted slaves. - -Whatever tidings may have muttered on the breeze, riders came in hotly -to the royal pavilion towards the noon of the fourteenth day. There was -soon much stir on the hills hard by Geraint. Knights and nobles -thronged the royal tent, captains clanged shoulders, gallopers rode -south and west with fiery despatches to Morolt and Sir Simon of -Imbrecour. Battle breathed in the wind. Before night came, the King's -pavilion had vanished from the hills; his columns were winding round the -northern hem of the forest, to strike the road that ran from Geraint to -Gilderoy. - -The royal scouts and rangers had not played their master false. A river -of steel was curling through the black depths of the wild, threading the -valleys towards the east. The King's scouts had caught the glimmer of -armour sifting through the trees. They had slunk about the rebel host -for days while they lay camped in their thousands about the cliff. -Colgran and his small company had passed through unheeded, but they were -up like hawks when the whole host moved. - -That midnight Fulviac's columns rolled from the outstanding thickets of -the wild, and held in serried masses for the road to Gilderoy. The -King's procrastination had launched them on this last desperate venture. -They would have starved in the forest as Fulviac had foreseen; their -hopes lay in reaching Gilderoy, which was well victualled, throwing -themselves therein, making what terms they could, or die fighting behind -its walls. Thus under cover of night they slipped from the forest, -trusting to leave the King's men guarding an empty lair. - -The brisk forethought of Richard of Lauretia had out-gamed the rebels, -however, in the hazardous moves of war. They were answering to his -opening like wild duck paddling towards a decoy. Ten miles west of -Gilderoy there stretched a valley, walled southwards by tall heights, -banded through the centre by the river Tamar. At its eastern extremity -a line of hills rolled down to touch the river. The road from Geraint -ran through the valley, hugging the southern bank of the river after -crossing it westwards by a fortified bridge. Fulviac and his host would -follow that road, marching betwixt the river and the hills. It was in -this valley that Richard of Lauretia had conceived the hurtling climax -of the war. - -Forewarned in season, Sir Simon of Imbrecour and his bristling squadrons -were riding through the night on Gilderoy, shaping a crescent course -towards the east. Morolt and the giants of the north were striding in -his track, skirting the southern spires of the forest, to press level -with the rebel march, screened by the hills. The King and his -Lauretians came down from Geraint. They were to seize the bridge across -the Tamar, pour over, and close the rebels on the rear. - -It was near dawn when Fulviac's columns struck the highroad from -Geraint, and entered the valley where the Tamar shimmered towards -Gilderoy. Mist covered the world, shot through with the gold threads of -the dawn. The river gleamed and murmured fitfully in the meadows; the -southern heights glittered in the growing day; the purple slopes of the -Black Wild had melted dimly into the west. - -The mist stood dense in the flats where the Geraint road bridged the -river. The northern slopes seemed steeped in vapoury desolation, the -road winding into a waste of green. Fulviac and his men marched on, -chuckling as they thought of the royal troops watching the empty alleys -of the forest. Fulviac took no care to secure the bridge across the -Tamar. With the line of hills before them breasted, they would see the -spires of Gilderoy, glittering athwart the dawn. - -The columns were well in the lap of the valley before two light horsemen -came galloping in from the far van, calling on Fulviac, who rode under -the red banner, that the road to Gilderoy had been seized. Fulviac and -Sforza rode forward with a squadron of horse to reconnoitre. As they -advanced at a canter, the mists cleared from the skirts of the -encircling hills. Far to the east, on the green slopes that rolled -towards the Tamar, they saw the sun smite upon a thousand points of -steel. Pennons danced in the shimmering atmosphere, shields flickered, -armour shone. A torrent of gems seemed poured from the dawn's lap upon -the emerald bosoms of the hills. They were the glittering horsemen of -Sir Simon of Imbrecour, who had ridden out of the night and seized on -the road to Gilderoy. - -Fulviac halted his company, and standing in the stirrups, scanned the -hillside under his hand. He frowned, thrust forth his chin, turned on -Sforza who rode at his side. - -"Trapped," he said with a twist of the lip; "Dick of the Iron Hand has -fooled us. 'Twas done cunningly, though it brings us to a parlous -passage. They hold the road." - -The Gonfaloniere tugged at his ragged beard, and looked white under the -arch of his open salade. - -"Better advance on them," he said; "I would give good gold to be safe in -the streets of Gilderoy." - -Fulviac sneered, and shook his head. - -"There are ten thousand spears on yonder slopes, the lustiest blood in -the land. Count their banners and their pennons, the stuff tells an -honest tale. Pah, they would drive our rapscallions into the river. -Send back and bid our banners halt." - -They wheeled and cantered towards the long black columns plodding -through the meadows. Far to the west over the green plain they saw -spears flash against the sun, a glimmering tide spreading from the -river. The Lauretians had crossed the bridge and were hurrying on the -rebels' heels. Fulviac's trumpets sounded the halt. He thundered his -orders to his captains, bade them mass their men in the meadows, and -hedge their pikes for the crash of battle. - -A shout reached him from his squadrons of horse who had marched on the -southern wing. They were pointing to the heights with sword and spear. -Fulviac reined round, rode forward to some rising ground, and looked -southwards under his hand. The heights bounding the valley shone with -steel. A myriad glistening stars shimmered under the sun. Morolt's -northerners had shown their shields; the hills bristled with their bills -and spears. - -Fulviac shrugged his shoulders, lowered his beaver, and rode back -towards his men. He saw Yeoland the Saint's red banner waving above the -dusky squares. He remembered the girl's pale face and the hands that -had toyed with the gilded silks in the dark chamber upon the cliff. -Though the sun shone and the earth glistened, he knew in his heart that -he should see that face no more. - -Richard of Lauretia had forged his crescent of steel. South, east, and -west the royal trumpets sounded; northwards ran the Tamar, closing the -meadows. Fulviac and his men were trapped in the green valley. A -golden girdle of chivalry hemmed the mob in the lap of the emerald -meadows. All about them blazed the panoply of war. - -Fulviac, pessimist that he was, took to his heart that hour the lofty -tranquillity of a Scandinavian hero. His courage was of that stout, -sea-buffeting fibre that stiffened its beams against the tide of defeat. -He set forth his shield, tossed up his sword, rode through the ranks -with the spirit of a Roland. Life leapt the stronger in him at the -challenge of the Black Raven of death. His captains could have sworn -that he looked for victory in the moil, so bluff and strenuous was his -mood that day. - -Sforza came cringing to him, glib-lipped and haggard, to speak of a -parley. Fulviac shook his shield in the man's white face, set his -ruffians to dig trenches in the meadows, and to range the waggons as a -barricade. - -"Parley, forsooth," quoth he; "talk no more to me of parleys when I have -twoscore thousand smiters at my back. Let Dick of the Iron Hand come -down to us with the sword. Ha, sirs, are we stuffed with hay! We will -rattle the royal bones and make them dance a fandango to the devil." - -His spirit diffused itself through the ranks of the rough soldiery. -They cheered wheresoever he went, kindling their courage like a torch, -and tossed their pikes to him with strenuous insolence. - -"My children," he would roar to them as he passed, "the day has come, we -have drawn these skulkers to a tussle. See to it, sirs, let us maul -these velvet gentlemen, these squires of the cushion. By the Lord, we -will feast anon in Gilderoy, and rifle the King's baggage." - -As for Richard of the Iron Hand, he was content to claim the arduous -blessings of the day. He held his men in leash upon the hills, resting -them and their horses after the marchings of the night. Wine was served -out; clarions and sackbuts sounded through the ranks; the King made his -nobles a rich feast in his pavilion pitched by Sir Morolt's banner. As -the day drew on, he thrust strong outposts towards the meadows, ordered -his troops to sleep through the long night under arms. Their -watch-fires gemmed a lurid bow under the sky, with Tamar stringing it, a -chord of silver. In the meadows the rebel masses lay a black pool of -gloom under the stars. - -Fulviac sat alone in his tent at midnight, his drawn sword across his -knees. His captains had left him, some to watch, others to sleep on the -grass in their armour, Sforza the Gonfaloniere to sneak in the dark to -the King's lines. Silence covered the valley, save for the voices of -the sentinels and the sound of the royal trumpets blowing the changes on -the hills. Their watch-fires hung athwart the sky like a chain of -flashing rubies. - -Fulviac sat motionless as a statue, staring out into the night. Death, -like a grey wraith, stood beside his chair; the unknown, a black and -unsailed sea, stretched calm and imageless beneath his feet. Life and -the ambition thereof tottered and crumbled like a quaking ruin. Love -quenched her torch of gold. The man saw the stars above him, heard in -the silence of thought a thousand worlds surging through the infinitudes -of the heavens. What then was this mortal pillar of clay, that it -should grudge its dust to the womb of the world? - -And ambition? He thought of Yeoland and her wounded heart; of -Gambrevault and Avalon; of La Belle Foret smoking amid its ruins. He -had torched fame through the land, and painted his prowess in symbols of -fire. Now that death challenged him on the strand of the unknown, -should he, Fulviac, fear the unsailed sea! - -His heart glowed in him with a transcendent insolence. Lifting his -sword, he pressed the cold steel to his lips, brandished it in the faces -of the stars. Then, with a laugh, he lay down upon a pile of straw and -slept. - - - - - XLII - - -Dawn rolled out of the east, red and riotous, its crimson spears -streaming towards the zenith. Over the far towers of Gilderoy swept a -roseate and golden mist, over the pine-strewn heights, over Tamar -silvering the valley. A wind piped hoarsely through the thickets, like -a shrill prelude to the organ-throated roar of war. - -The landscape shimmered in the broadening light, green tapestries -arabesqued with gold. To the east, Sir Simon's multitudinous squadrons -ran like rare terraces of flowers, dusted with the scintillant dew of -steel. Westwards dwindled the long ranks of the Lauretians. On the -heights, Morolt's shields flickered in the sun. About a hillock in the -valley, the rebel host stood massed in a great circle, a whorl of -helmets, bills, and pikes; Fulviac's red pavilion starred the centre -like the red roof of a church rising above a town. - -On the southern heights, Richard of Lauretia had watched the dawn rise -behind the towers of Gilderoy. He was on horseback, in full panoply of -war, his gorgeous harness and trappings dazzling the sun. Knights, -nobles, trumpeters were round him, a splendid pool of chivalry, while -east and west stretched the ranks of the grim and gigantic soldiery of -the north. - -Hard by the royal standard with its Sun of Gold, a corpse dangled from -the branch of a great fir. It swayed slightly in the wind, black and -sinister against the gilded curtain of the dawn. It was the body of -Sforza the adventurer from the south, Gonfaloniere of Gilderoy, whom the -King had hanged to grace his double treachery. - -As the light increased, sweeping along the glittering frieze of war, -Morolt of Gorm and Regis stood forward before the King. He was a lean -man, tall and vigorous as a bow of steel, his black eyes darting fire -under his thatch of close-cropped hair. The nobles had put him forward -that morning as a man born to claim a boon upon the brink of battle. -Fierce and virile, he bared his sword to the sun, and pointed with -mailed hand to the rebel host in the valley. - -"Sire, a boon for your loyal servants." - -The King's face was as a mask of steel heated to white heat, ardent and -pitiless. He had the spoilers of his kingdom under his heel, and was -not the man to flinch at vengeance. - -"Say on, Morolt, what would ye?" - -"We are men, sire, and these wolves have slaughtered our kinsfolk." - -"Am I held to be a lamb, sirs!" - -A rough laugh eddied up. Morolt shook his sword. - -"Give them into our hand, sire," he said; "there shall be no need of -ropes and dungeons." - -The iron men cheered him. Richard the King lifted up his baton; his -strong voice swept far in the hush of the dawn. - -"Sirs," he said to them, "take the Black Leopard of Imbrecour for your -pattern, rend and slay, let none escape you. Every man of my host wears -a white cross on his sword arm. Let that badge only stay your -vengeance. As for these whelps of treason, they have butchered our -children, shamed our women, clawed and torn at their King's throne. -To-day who thinks of mercy! Go down, sirs, to the slaughter." - -A roar of joy rose from those rough warriors; they tossed their swords, -gripped hands and embraced, called on the saints to serve them. Strong -passions were loose, steaming like the incense of sacked cities into -heaven. There was much to avenge, much to expurgate. That day their -swords were to drink blood; that day they were to crush and kill. - -In the valley, Fulviac's huge coil of humanity lay sullen and silent, -watching the spears upon the hills. Their russets and sables contrasted -with the gorgeous colouring of the feudalists. The one shone like a -garden; the other resembled a field lying fallow. The romance and pomp -of war gathered to pour down upon the squalid realism of mob tyranny. -Beauty and the beast, knight and scullion faced each other on the stage -that morning. - -Gallopers were riding east and west bearing the King's commands to Sire -Julian, Duke of Layonne, who headed the Lauretians, and to Simon of -Imbrecour upon the hills. The King would not tempt the moil that day, -but left the sweat and thunder of it to his captains, content to play -the Caesar on the southern heights. His commands had gone forth to the -host. The first assault was to be made by twenty thousand northmen -under Morolt, and a like force under Julian of Layonne. The whole -crescent of steel was to contract upon the meadows, and consolidate its -iron wall about Fulviac and his rebels. Simon of Imbrecour was to leash -his chivalry from the first rush of the fight. His knights should ride -in when the rebel ranks were broken. - -An hour before noon, the royal trumpets blew the advance, and a great -shout surged through the shimmering ranks. - -"Advance, Black Leopard of Imbrecour." - -"Advance, Golden Sun of Lauretia." - -"Advance, Grey Wolf of the North." - -With clarions and fifes playing, drums beating, banners blowing, the -whole host closed its semilune of steel upon the dusky mass in the -meadows. The northerners were chanting an old Norse ballad, a grim, -ice-bound song of the sea and the shriek of the sword. Sir Simon's -spears were rolling over the green slopes, their trumpets and bugles -blowing merrily. From the west, the Lauretians were coming up with -their pikes dancing in the sun. The thunder of the advance seemed to -shake the hills. - -Fulviac watched the feudalists from beneath his banner in the meadows. -His captains were round him, grim men and silent, girding their spirits -for the prick of battle. - -"By St. Peter," said the man under the red flag, "these fireflies come -on passably. A fair host and a splendid. If their courage suits their -panoply, we shall have hot work to-day." - -"Faith," quoth Colgran, who had returned from Gilderoy, "I would rather -sweep a flower-garden than a muck-heap. We are good for twice their -number, massed as we are like rocks upon a sea-shore." - -"To your posts, sirs," were Fulviac's last words to them; "whether we -fall or conquer, what matters it if we die like men!" - -Billows of red, green, and blue, dusted with silver, Morolt and his -Berserkers rolled to the charge. They had cast aside their pikes, and -taken to shield and axe, such axes as had warred in the far past for the -faith of Odin. Fulviac's rebels had massed their spears into a hedge of -steel, and though Morolt's men came down at a run, the spear points -stemmed the onrush like a wall. - -Despite this avalanche of iron, the rebel ring stove off the tide of -war. They were stout churls and hardy, these peasant plunderers; death -admonished them; despair tightened their sinews and propped up their -shields. The shimmering flood swirled on their spear points like tawny -billows tossing round a rock. It lapped and eddied, rushed up in spray, -seeking an inlet, yet finding none. The Lauretian feudatories had -swarmed to the charge. Fulviac withstood them, and held their panoply at -bay. - -Richard the King watched the battle from the southern heights. He saw -Morolt's men roll down, saw the fight seethe and glitter, swirl in a -wild vortex round the rebel spears. The war wolves gathered, the -tempest waxed, and still the black ring held. Like steel upon a granite -rock the onslaughts sparked on it, but clove no breach. Under the late -noon sun the valley reeked with dust and din. The royal host was as a -dragon of gold, gnashing and writhing about an iron tower. - -It was then that the King smote his thigh, plucked off his signet, sent -it by Bertrand his herald to Sir Simon and his knights. - -"Go down at the gallop," ran the royal bidding, "cleave me this rock, -and splinter it to dust. Spare neither man nor horse. Cleave in or -perish." - -The black banner of Imbrecour flapped forth; the trumpets clamoured. -Sir Simon's knights might well have graced Boiardo's page, and girded -Albracca with their stalwart spears. They tightened girths, set shields -for the charge, and rode down nobly to avenge or fall. - -As a great ship sails to break a harbour boom, so did the squadrons of -the King crash down with fewtred spears on Fulviac's host. They rode -with the wind, leaping and thundering like an iron flood. No slackening -was there, no wavering of this ponderous bolt. It rushed like a huge -rock down a mountain's flank, smoking and hurtling on the wall of -spears. - -The corn was scythed and trodden under foot. Ranks rocked and broke -like earth before a storm-scourged sea. The spears of Imbrecour flashed -on, smote and sucked vengeance, cleaving a breach into the core of war. -The knights slew, took scarlet for their colour, and made the moment -murderous with steel. Into the breach the King's wolves followed them; -Morolt's grim axemen stumbled in, rending and hurling the black mass to -shreds. Battle became butchery. The day was won. - -What boots it to chronicle the scene that travelled as a forest fire in -the track of Sir Simon's chivalry? The iron hand of the King closed -upon the wrecked victims in the valley. Knight and noble trampled the -peasantry; rapine and lust were put to the sword. The Blatant Beast was -slain by the spear of Romance. The boor and the demagogue were trodden -as straw before the threshing-floor of vengeance. The fields were a -shroud of scarlet; Tamar ran like wine; thorn and bramble were fruited -red with blood. On the heights the tall pines waved over the splendid -masque of death. - -It was late in the day when Morolt and his hillsmen, with certain of Sir -Simon's knights, forced their way through the wreckage of the fight, to -the hillock where stood the banner of the Saint. South, east, and west -the rout bubbled into the twilight, a riot of slaughter seething to the -distant woods. About Yeoland's banner had gathered the last of the -Forest brotherhood, grey wolves red to the throat with battle. Sullen -and indomitable, they had gathered in a dusky knot of steel as the day -sped into the kindling west. Even Morolt's fierce followers stood -still, like hounds that had brought the boar to bay. Simon of Imbrecour -spurred out before the spears, lifted a shattered sword, and called on -Fulviac by name. - -"Traitor, we challenge ye." - -A burly figure in harness of a reddish hue towered up beneath the fringe -of the banner of the Saint. He carried an axe slanted over his -shoulder, as he stood half a head above the tallest of his men. As Sir -Simon challenged him, he lifted his salade, and bared his face to the -war dogs who hemmed him in. - -"Black Leopard of the West, we meet again." - -The Lord of Imbrecour peered at him keenly from under his vizor. - -"Come, sirs, and end it," quoth the man in red, "buffet for buffet, and -sword to sword. I fling ye a gauge to death and the devil. Come, sirs, -let us end it; I bide my time." - -Morolt sprang forward with sword aloft. - -"Traitor and rebel, I have seen your face before." - -Fulviac laughed, a brave burst of scorn. He tossed his axe to them, and -spread his arms. - -"Ha, Morolt, I have foined with ye of old. Saints and martyrs, have I -avenged myself upon the lap-dogs of the court! Here will we fight our -last battle. Bury me, sirs, as Fulk of Argentin, the King's brother, -whom men thought dead these seven years." - -A sudden silence hovered above that remnant of a beaten host. The red -banner drooped, hung down about its staff. Morolt, uttering a strange -cry, smote his bosom with his iron hand. Old Simon crossed himself, -turned back and rode thence slowly from the field. - -Morolt's voice, gruff and husky, sounded the charge. When he and his war -dogs had made an end, they took Fulviac's head and bore it wrapped in -Yeoland's banner to the King. - - - - - XLIII - - -Under the starry pall of night, the last cry of the clarion of tragedy -sounded over wood and meadow. Gilderoy, proud city of the south, had -closed her gates against the royal host, wise at the eleventh hour as to -the measure of the King's mercy. The wreckage from the battle in the -valley had washed on Tamar's bosom past the walls, corpses jostling each -other in the stream of death. Vultures had hovered in the azure sky. -There was no doom for Gilderoy save the doom of the sword. - -The moon rose red amid a whorl of dusky clouds, veiled as with scarlet -for the last orgies of war. Gilderoy had been carried by assault. -Morolt's barbarians were pouring through the streets; the gates yawned -towards the night; bells boomed and clashed. The townsfolk were -scurrying like rats for the great square where the remnant of the -garrison had barricaded the entries, gathering for a death-struggle -under the umbrage of the cathedral towers. - -Richard the King had ridden into Gilderoy by the northern gate with Sir -Simon of Imbrecour and a strong guard of knights and men-at-arms. -Fulviac's head danced on a spear beside the Golden Banner of Lauretia. -The citadel had opened its gates to Sire Julian of Layonne. In the -square before the ruined abbey of the Benedictines the King and his -nobles gathered to await the judgment of the hour. - -A great bell boomed through the night, a deep panting sound in the warm -gloom. Torrents of steel clashed through the narrow streets, gleaming -under the torch flare, bubbling towards the last rampart of revolt. -From the cathedral square arose a wild, whimpering outcry, the wailing -of women mingling with the hoarse clamour of the last assault. - -Word was brought to the King by one of Morolt's esquires, that the -townsfolk were holding the great square behind their barricades, and -pouring a hot fire from the houses upon his troops. Morolt desired the -King's ring and his commands before taking to the resource of the sword. -Richard of the Iron Hand was in no mood for mercy. His decree went -forth from before the gate of the ruined abbey. - -"Consider no church as a sanctuary. Fire the houses about the square. -Gilderoy shall burn." - -The city's doom was sealed by those iron words. The torch took up the -handiwork of the sword. A gradual glow began to rise above the -house-tops; smoke billowed up, black and voluminous, dusted with a -myriad ruddy stars. Flames rose from casement and from gable, from -chimney, spirelet, roof, and tower. The houses were faced with wood, -dry as tinder, crisp for the torch as a summer-bleached prairie. The -flames ran like a red flood from roof to roof, with a roar as from huge -reptiles battling in a burning pit. The great square, with the -glittering pinnacles of its cathedral, was girded in with fire and -sword. - -Men were stabbing and hewing upon the barricades where Morolt's -feudatories had stormed up from the gloom of the streets. Beneath the -light of the burning houses, swords were tossed, the dead forgotten and -trodden under foot. It was not long before the barriers were carried by -assault and the avengers of Belle Foret poured pitiless into the great -square. - -The citizens of Gilderoy had packed their women and children into the -sanctuary of the cathedral choir. They were penned there amid the -gorgeous gildings of the place, a shivering flock swarming in the -frescoed chapels, huddled beneath the painted figures of the saints. -The glow of the burning city beat in through the jewelled glass, -building the huge aisles in a glittering cavern windowed with living -gems. Darkness and dawn struggled and fought under the thundering -vaults. From without came the wild babel, the hoarse death-moan of a -people. - -In the great square the fight went on, a ruthless melee, strong and -terrible. Gilderoy had slaughtered her noblesse. She made expiation for -the deed that night with the heart's blood of her children. Vengeance -and despair grappled and swayed in that great pit of death. The blazing -streets walled in a red inferno, where passions ran like Satanic wine. -Gilderoy, proud city of the south, quivered and expired beneath the iron -gauntlet of the King. - -Modred of Gambrevault moved through the press with Morolt of the North -fighting at his side. They had a common quest that night, a common -watchword, chastening the vengeance of their men. - -"Seek the Saint. Save Yeoland of Gambrevault." - -It was as a hoarse shout, feeble and futile amid the bluster of a storm. -What hope was there for this pale-faced Madonna amid the burning wreck -of Gilderoy? She was as a lily in a flaming forest. Modred sought for -her with voice and sword, thinking of Flavian and the vow upon the -cliff. Though the city lightened, black Modred's heart was steeped in -gloom. Death and despair seemed armed against his hope. - -On the eastern quarter a little court stood back from the great square. -A fountain played in the centre, the water-jet, thrown from a mermaid's -bosom, sparkling like a plume of gems. The walls of the court were -streaked with flame, its casements tawny with yellow light. The breath -of the place was as the breath of a furnace; a quaking crowd filled it, -driven to bay by the swords shining in the square. - -Modred was a tall man, a pine standing amid hollies. Staring into the -murk of the court wreathed round with a garland of fire, he saw, above -the heads of the crowd, a woman standing on the steps of the fountain, -leaning against the brim of the basin. Her hair blew loose from under -her open bassinet; her white face like a flower was turned mutely to the -night. A cuirass glimmered under her cloud of hair. Modred, when he -saw her, sent up a shout like that of a wrecked mariner sighting a sail -over tumbling waves. He tossed his sword, charged forward into the -court, began to buffet his way towards the figure by the fountain. - -A knot of soldiery, taking his shout as a rallying cry, stormed after -him into the court. There was a great crush in the entry, men tumbling -in, and using their swords as poniards. The townsfolk were scattered -like blown leaves towards the burning houses. In the hot turmoil of the -moment the girl was swept from the fountain steps, and carried by a -struggling bunch of figures towards a corner of the court. Modred lost -sight of her for the moment, as he ploughed forward through the press. - -Flames were rushing from casement and from roof; the breath of the place -was as the breath of a burning desert. The Gilderoy rebels pent in the -court were being put to the sword. Through the swirl of the struggle -Yeoland's bassinet shone out again. Modred saw her standing alone, -shading her face with her hands like some wild, desperate thing, knowing -not whither to escape. He pushed on, calling her by name. Before he -could reach her the gabled front of a house undermined by the fire -lurched forward, tottered, and came down with a roar. - -A blazing brand struck Modred on the helmet. He staggered, beheld a -shower of sparks, felt a scorching wind upon his face. The stones were -littered with crackling woodwork, glowing timber, reeking tiles. He was -stunned for a moment as by the blow of a mace. Flames were leaping -heavenwards from the houses, wiping out the mild faces of the stars with -their ruthless hands. - -With a great cry Modred had started forward like a charging bull. He -dragged aside the smouldering wreckage of gable and roof, tore the -rafters aside, nor heeded the heat, for his harness helped him. His -great body quivered as he drew the girl out and lifted her from the -stones. Her green kirtle was alight, and with the strong instinct of -the moment he ran with her to the fountain and plunged her bodily in the -broad basin. - -Panting, he bore her across the great square in his arms. Yeoland was -making a little moaning whimper, but for all else lay quiet as a -half-dead bird. Modred dared not look into her face; the scent of her -scorched hair beat up into his nostrils. He ground his teeth and cursed -Fate as he ran. Was it for this that they had bulwarked Gambrevault? - - - - - XLIV - - -Autumn had cast her scarlet girdle about Avalon; the woods were aflame -with the splendours of the dying year. The oaks stood pavilions of green -and gold; the beeches domes of burnished bronze; from their silver -stems, birches fountained forth showers of amber. It was a season of -crystal skies, of cloud galleons, bulwarked with gold, sailing the -wine-red west. Wild Autumn wandered in the ruined woods, her long hair -streaking the gilded gloom, her voice elfin under the stars. Even as -she passed, the crisp leaves swirled and fell, a pall for the dying -year. - -Avalon slumbered amid her lilies and the painted woods, gorgeous as rare -tapestries, curtaining her meadows. Her mere laughed and glimmered amid -the flags and lily leaves, and lapped at the lichened bases of her -towers. Avalon had arisen from her desolation. No longer were her -chambers void, her gates broken, her courts the haunt of death. The bat -and the screech-owl had fled from her towers. She had lifted up her -face to the dawn, like a mourner who turns from the grave to gaze again -upon the golden face of joy. - -Time with his scythe of silver rested on the hills. The black dragon of -war had crawled sated to the labyrinths of the past; the red throne of -ambition had been consumed by fire. Peace came forth with her -white-faced choir, swinging their golden censers, shedding a purple -perfume of hope over the blackened land. The death wolves had slunk to -the wilds, the vultures had soared from the fields. A splendid calm had -descended upon the land, a silence as of heaven after the hideous masque -of war. The cloud-wrack and thunder had passed from the sky. Men heard -again the voice of God. - -Six weeks had gone since the sacking of Gilderoy, and dead Duessa's -bower in Avalon had been garnished for a second mistress. A white rose -lurked in a whorl of green. The oriel, with its re-jewelled glass, -looked out upon the transient splendours of the woods. Tapestry clothed -the walls, showing knights and maidens wandering through flowering -meads. Rare furniture had been taken from the wrecked palaces of -Gilderoy and given to the Lord Flavian by the King. - -That autumntide Modred played seneschal in Avalon. He had cleansed and -regarnished the castle by his lord's command, and garrisoned it with men -taken from the King's own guard. Moreover, in Gilderoy he had found an -old man groping miserlike amid the ruins, filthy and querulous. The -pantaloon when challenged had confessed to the name of Aurelius, and the -profession of Medicine by royal patent in that city. The townsfolk had -spared his pompous neck for the sake of the benefits of his craft. From -the fat, proud, prosperous worthy he had cringed into a wrinkled, -flap-cheeked beggar. Him Modred had caught like a veritable pearl from -the gutter, and brought with other household perquisites into Avalon. - -In this rich refuge Aurelius awoke as from an unsavoury and penurious -dream. He regained some of his plump, sage swagger, his rotund -phraseology, his autocratic dogmatism in matters AEsculapian. The -atmosphere of Avalon agreed with his gullet. Above all things, he was -held to be a man of tact. - -In dead Duessa's bower there still hung her mirror of steel, whose -sheeny surface had often answered to her languorous eyes and moon-white -face. Duessa's hair had glimmered before this good friend's flattery. -Gems, necklet, broideries, and tiars had sunk deep into its magic -memory. The mirror could have told truths and expounded philosophies, -had there been some Merlin to conjure with the past. - -Aurelius of Gilderoy played the necromancer under more rational -auspices. He was a benignant soul, subtle, sympathetic to the brink of -dotage. His professional hint was that dead Duessa's mirror should be -exiled from the bower of Avalon. The oracle spoke with much beneficence -as to the delusions of the sick, and the demoniac influence of -melancholy upon the brain. Yet his wisdom was withstood in the very -quarter where he had trusted to find obedience and understanding. Dead -Duessa's mirror still hung in the Lady Yeoland's bower. - -One calm evening, when the west stood a great arch of ruddy gold, a slim -girl knelt in the oriel with her face buried in her hands. She was clad -in a gown of peacock blue, fitting close to her slight figure, and -girded about the hips with a girdle of green leather. Her black hair -poured upon her shoulders, clouding her face, yet leaving bare the base -of her white neck where it curved from her pearly shoulders. She -drooped her head as she knelt before the casement, where the light -entered to her, azure and green, vermilion and purple, silver and rose. - -Anon she rose softly, turned towards the mirror hanging on the wall, -gazed into its depths with a species of bewitched fear. One glance -given, she turned away with a shudder, hid her face in her hands, walked -the room in a mute frenzy of self-horror. Presently she knelt again -before the window-seat, struggled in prayer, turning her face piteously -to an open casement where the golden woods stood under the red wand of -the west. The light waned a little. She rose up again from her knees, -shook her hair forward so that it bathed her face, trod slowly towards -the mirror, stared at herself therein. - -The crystal bowl was broken, the ivory throne dishonoured! The blush of -the rose had faded, the gleam of the opal fallen to dust. Youth and its -sapphire shield had passed into the gloom of dreams. The stars and the -moon were magical no more. - -She wavered away from the window to a dark corner, hid her face in the -arras. The same wild cry rang like a piteous requiem through her brain. -The man lived and loved her, and she had come to this! Burning Gilderoy -had stolen her beauty, made her a mockery of her very self. God, that -Fate should compel her to lift her scars to the eyes of love! - -In the gathering dusk, she went again to the mirror, peered therein, -with strained eyes and a tremor of the lip. The twilight softened -somewhat the bitterness of truth. She shook her hair forward, saw her -eyes gleam, fingered her white throat, and smiled a little. Presently -she lit a taper, held it with wavering hand, peered at the steel panel -once again. She cried out, jerked away, and crushed the frail light -under her foot. - -Darkness increased, seeming to clothe her misery. She wandered through -the room, twisting her black hair about her wrist, moaning and darting -piteous glances into the gloom. Once she took a poniard from a table, -fingered the point, pressed her hand over her heart, threw the knife -away with a gesture of despair. On the morrow the man would come to -her. What would she see in those grey eyes of his? Horror and -loathing, ah God, not that! - -Anon she grew calmer and less distressed, prayed awhile, lit a lamp, -delved in an ambry built in the wall. That night her hands worked -zealously, while the moon shimmered on the mere, setting silver wrinkles -on its agate face. The woods were still and solemn as death, deep with -the voiceless sympathy of the hour. Black lace hung upon Yeoland's -hands; the sable thread ran through and through; her white fingers -quivered in the light of the lamp. - -Her few hours of sleep that night were wild and feverish, smitten -through with piteous dreams. On the morrow she bound a black fillet -about her brows, and let the dusky mask of lace fall over face and -bosom. She prayed a long while before her crucifix, but she did not -gaze again into dead Duessa's mirror. - -That same evening Modred the seneschal blasphemed Aurelius in the garden -of Avalon. The man of the sword was in no easy humour; his convictions -emerged from his hairy mouth with a vigour that was not considerate. - -"Dotard, you have no more wit than a pelican." - -"My lord, I embrace truth." - -"Damn truth; what eyes have you for a goodly close!" - -Aurelius spread his hands with the air of a martyr. - -"The physician, my lord," he said, "should ever deserve the confidence -of his patron." - -For retort, Modred shouldered him into the thick of a rose bush. - -"Pedant," quoth he, "crab-apple, say a word on this matter, and I will -drown you in the moat." - -Aurelius gathered his robes and still ruffled it like an autocrat. - -"Barbarity, sir, is the argument of fools." - -"Bag of bones, rot in your wrinkled hide, keep your froth for sick -children." - -"Sir!" - -"You have as much soul as a rat in a sewer. Come, list to me, breathe a -word of this, and I'll starve you in our topmost turret. Leave truth -alone, gaffer, with your rheumy, broken-kneed wisdom. You have no wit -in these matters, no, not a crust. Blurt a word, and I pack you off to -grovel in Gilderoy." - -The man of physic shrugged his shoulders, seemed grieved and -incredulous, prepared to wash his hands of the whole business. - -"Have your way, my lord; you are too hot-blooded for me; I will meddle -no further." - -"Ha, Master Gallipot, you shall acknowledge anon that I have a soul." - - - - - XLV - - -Trumpets were blowing in Avalon of the Twelve Towers, echoing through -the valley where the sun shone upon the woods, the sere leaves -glittering like golden byzants as they fell. The sky was a clear -canopy, drawn as blue silk from height to height, tenting the green -meadows. Avalon's towers rose black and strong above the sheen of her -quiet waters. - -From Gambrevault came the Lord Flavian to claim his wife once more. -Through the brief days of autumn Aurelius of Gilderoy had decreed him an -exile from the Isle of Orchards, pleading for the girl's frail breath -and her lily soul that might fade if set too soon in the noon of love. -In Gambrevault the Lord Flavian had moped like a prisoned falcon, -listening to the far cry of the war, hungry for the touch of a woman's -hand. Modred had snatched the Madonna of the Pine Forest from burning -Gilderoy. She had been throned at last above the tides of violence and -wrong. - -That day the Lord Flavian rode in state for Avalon, even as an -Arthurian, prince coming with splendour from some high-souled quest. -The woods had blazoned their banners for his march. Trumpets hailed him -from the towers and battlements. The sun, like a great patriarch, -smoothed his gold beard and beamed upon the world. - -Over the bridge and beneath the gate, Modred led his master's horse. -The garrison had gathered in the central court; they tossed their -swords, and cheered for Gambrevault. Trumpets set the wild woods -wailing. Bombards thundered from the towers. - -In the court, amid the panoply of arms, Flavian dismounted, took -Modred's hand, leant upon the great man's shoulder. - -"Old friend, is she well?" - -"Ah, sire, youth turns to youth." - -"Let my minstrels play below the stair some old song of Tristan and -Iseult. And now I go to her. Lead on." - -In dead Duessa's bower a drooping figure knelt before a crucifix in -prayer. Foreshadowings of misery and woe were stirring in the woman's -heart. She had heard the bray of trumpets on the towers, the thunder of -cannon, the shouts of strong men cheering in the court. She heard lute, -viol, and flute strike up from afar a mournful melody sweet with an -antique woe. - -Time seemed to crawl like a wounded snake in the grass. The figures on -the arras gestured and grimaced; the jewelled glass in the oriel burnt -in through the dark lattice of her veil. She heard footsteps on the -stairs; Modred's deep voice, joyous and strangely tender. A hand -fumbled at the latch. Starting up, she ran towards the shadows, and hid -her face in the folds of the arras. - -The door had closed and all was silent. - -"Yeoland." - -The cry smote through her like joy barbed with bitterness. She shuddered -and caught her breath, swayed as she stood with the arras hiding her -face. - -"Wife, wife." - -With sudden strength, compelling herself, she peered round, and saw a -figure standing in the shadow, a man with white face turned towards the -light, his hands stretched out like a little child's. She stood -motionless, breathing fast with short, convulsive breaths, her lips -quivering beneath her veil. - -"I am here," she said to him, husky, tremulous, and faint. - -"Yeoland." - -"Ah!" - -"I hear your voice; come near to me." - -She wavered forward three steps into the room, stood staring strangely -at the figure by the door. - -"Yeoland, are you near?" - -"My God!" - -"I give myself to you, a broken man. Ah, where are your hands?" - -Sudden comprehension seized her; she went very near to him, gazing in -his face. - -"Speak." - -"Wife, I shall never see the sky again, nor watch the stars at night, -nor the moon, nor the sea. I shall never look on Avalon, her green -woods and her lilies, and her sleeping mere. I shall never behold your -face again. I am blind, I am blind." - -She gave a great cry, tore the veil from her face, and cast it far from -her. - -"Husband, I come to you." - -His hands were groping in the dark, groping like souls that sought the -light. She went near him, weeping, caught his fingers, kissed them with -her lips. The man's arms circled her; she hung therein, and buried her -head in his bosom. - -[Illustration: "HIS HANDS WERE GROPING IN THE DARK."] - -"My love, my own." - -"I am blind; your hair bathes my face." - -"Ah, you are blind, mine eyes are yours, and I your wife will be your -sun. No more pain shall compass you; there shall be no more grieving, -no more tears." - -"Yeoland." - -"Husband." - -"God in heaven, I give Thee thanks for this." - - - - - - -*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK LOVE AMONG THE RUINS *** - - - - -A Word from Project Gutenberg - - -We will update this book if we find any errors. - -This book can be found under: http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/42284 - -Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no one -owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation (and -you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without permission -and without paying copyright royalties. Special rules, set forth in the -General Terms of Use part of this license, apply to copying and -distributing Project Gutenberg(tm) electronic works to protect the -Project Gutenberg(tm) concept and trademark. 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