The Wood Beyond the World, William Morris [books recommended by bts .TXT] 📗

Frank and kind was the smile on her radiant visage, nor did she seem to note any whit the trouble on Walter’s face, nor how he strove to keep his eyes from the Maid.  As for her, she had so wholly mastered her countenance, that belike she used her face guilefully, for she stood as one humble but happy, with a smile on her face, blushing, and with her head hung down as if shamefaced before a goodly young man, a stranger.

But the Lady looked upon her kindly and said: “Come hither, child, and fear not this frank and free young man, who belike feareth thee a little, and full certainly feareth me; and yet only after the manner of men.”

And therewith she took the Maid by the hand and drew her to her, and pressed her to her bosom, and kissed her cheeks and her lips, and undid the lacing of her gown and bared a shoulder of her, and swept away her skirt from her feet; and then turned to Walter and said: “Lo thou, Squire! is not this a lovely thing to have grown up amongst our rough oak-boles?  What! art thou looking at the iron ring there?  It is nought, save a token that she is mine, and that I may not be without her.”

Then she took the Maid by the shoulders and turned her about as in sport, and said: “Go thou now, and bring hither the good grey ones; for needs must we bring home some venison to-day, whereas this stout warrior may not feed on nought save manchets and honey.”

So the Maid went her way, taking care, as Walter deemed, to give no side glance to him.  But he stood there shamefaced, so confused with all this openhearted kindness of the great Lady and with the fresh sight of the darling beauty of the Maid, that he went nigh to thinking that all he had heard since he had come to the porch of the house that first time was but a dream of evil.

But while he stood pondering these matters, and staring before him as one mazed, the Lady laughed out in his face, and touched him on the arm and said: “Ah, our Squire, is it so that now thou hast seen my Maid thou wouldst with a good will abide behind to talk with her?  But call to mind thy word pledged to me e’en now!  And moreover I tell thee this for thy behoof now she is out of ear-shot, that I will above all things take thee away to-day: for there be other eyes, and they nought uncomely, that look at whiles on my fair-ankled thrall; and who knows but the swords might be out if I take not the better heed, and give thee not every whit of thy will.”

As she spoke and moved forward, he turned a little, so that now the edge of that hazel-coppice was within his eye-shot, and he deemed that once more he saw the yellow-brown evil thing crawling forth from the thicket; then, turning suddenly on the Lady, he met her eyes, and seemed in one moment of time to find a far other look in them than that of frankness and kindness; though in a flash they changed back again, and she said merrily and sweetly: “So, so, Sir Squire, now art thou awake again, and mayest for a little while look on me.”

Now it came into his head, with that look of hers, all that might befall him and the Maid if he mastered not his passion, nor did what he might to dissemble; so he bent the knee to her, and spoke boldly to her in her own vein, and said: “Nay, most gracious of ladies, never would I abide behind to-day since thou farest afield.  But if my speech be hampered, or mine eyes stray, is it not because my mind is confused by thy beauty, and the honey of kind words which floweth from thy mouth?”

She laughed outright at his word, but not disdainfully, and said: “This is well spoken, Squire, and even what a squire should say to his liege lady, when the sun is up on a fair morning, and she and he and all the world are glad.”

She stood quite near him as she spoke, her hand was on his shoulder, and her eyes shone and sparkled.  Sooth to say, that excusing of his confusion was like enough in seeming to the truth; for sure never creature was fashioned fairer than she: clad she was for the greenwood as the hunting-goddess of the Gentiles, with her green gown gathered unto her girdle, and sandals on her feet; a bow in her hand and a quiver at her back: she was taller and bigger of fashion than the dear Maiden, whiter of flesh, and more glorious, and brighter of hair; as a flower of flowers for fairness and fragrance.

She said: “Thou art verily a fair squire before the hunt is up, and if thou be as good in the hunting, all will be better than well, and the guest will be welcome.  But lo! here cometh our Maid with the good grey ones.  Go meet her, and we will tarry no longer than for thy taking the leash in hand.”

So Walter looked, and saw the Maid coming with two couple of great hounds in the leash straining against her as she came along.  He ran lightly to meet her, wondering if he should have a look, or a half-whisper from her; but she let him take the white thongs from her hand, with the same half-smile of shamefacedness still set on her face, and, going past him, came softly up to the Lady, swaying like a willow-branch in the wind, and stood before her, with her arms hanging down by her sides.  Then the Lady turned to her, and said: “Look to thyself, our Maid, while we are away.  This fair young man thou needest not to fear indeed, for he is good and leal; but what thou shalt do with the King’s Son I wot not.  He is a hot lover forsooth, but a hard man; and whiles evil is his mood, and perilous both to thee and me.  And if thou do his will, it shall be ill for thee; and if thou do it not, take heed of him, and let me, and me only, come between his wrath and thee.  I may do somewhat for thee.  Even yesterday he was instant with me to have thee chastised after the manner of thralls; but I bade him keep silence of such words, and jeered him and mocked him, till he went away from me peevish and in anger.  So look to it that thou fall not into any trap of his contrivance.”

Then the Maid cast herself at the Mistress’s feet, and kissed and embraced them; and as she rose up, the Lady laid her hand lightly on her head, and then, turning to Walter, cried out: “Now, Squire, let us leave all these troubles and wiles and desires behind us, and flit through the merry greenwood like the Gentiles of old days.”

And therewith she drew up the laps of her gown till the whiteness of her knees was seen, and set off swiftly toward the wood that lay south of the house, and Walter followed, marvelling at her goodliness; nor durst he cast a look backward to the Maiden, for he knew that she desired him, and it was her only that he looked to for his deliverance from this house of guile and lies.

As they went, they found a change in the land, which grew emptier of big and wide-spreading trees, and more beset with thickets.  From one of these they roused a hart, and Walter let slip his hounds thereafter and he and the Lady followed running.  Exceeding swift was she, and well-breathed withal, so that Walter wondered at her; and eager she was in the chase as the very hounds, heeding nothing the scratching of briars or the whipping of stiff twigs as she sped on.  But for all their eager hunting, the quarry outran both dogs and folk, and gat him into a great thicket, amidmost whereof was a wide plash of water.  Into the thicket they followed him, but he took to the water under their eyes and made land on the other side; and because of the tangle of underwood, he swam across much faster than they might have any hope to come round on him; and so were the hunters left undone for that time.

So the Lady cast herself down on the green grass anigh the water, while Walter blew the hounds in and coupled them up; then he turned round to her, and lo! she was weeping for despite that they had lost the quarry; and again did Walter wonder that so little a matter should raise a passion of tears in her.  He durst not ask what ailed her, or proffer her solace, but was not ill apaid by beholding her loveliness as she lay.

Presently she raised up her head and turned to Walter, and spake to him angrily and said: “Squire, why dost thou stand staring at me like a fool?”

“Yea, Lady,” he said; “but the sight of thee maketh me foolish to do aught else but to look on thee.”

She said, in a peevish voice: “Tush, Squire, the day is too far spent for soft and courtly speeches; what was good there is nought so good here.  Withal, I know more of thine heart than thou deemest.”

Walter hung down his head and reddened, and she looked on him, and her face changed, and she smiled and said, kindly this time: “Look ye, Squire, I am hot and weary, and ill-content; but presently it will be better with me; for my knees have been telling my shoulders that the cold water of this little lake will be sweet and pleasant this summer noonday, and that I shall forget my foil when I have taken my pleasure therein.  Wherefore, go thou with thine hounds without the thicket and there abide my coming.  And I bid thee look not aback as thou goest, for therein were peril to thee: I shall not keep thee tarrying long alone.”

He bowed his head to her, and turned and went his ways.  And now, when he was a little space away from her, he deemed her indeed a marvel of women, and wellnigh forgat all his doubts and fears concerning her, whether she were a fair image fashioned out of lies and guile, or it might be but an evil thing in the shape of a goodly woman.  Forsooth, when he saw her caressing the dear and friendly Maid, his heart all turned against her, despite what his eyes and his ears told his mind, and she seemed like as it were a serpent enfolding the simplicity of the body which he loved.

But now it was all changed, and he lay on the grass and longed for her coming; which was delayed for somewhat more than an hour.  Then she came back to him, smiling and fresh and cheerful, her green gown let down to her heels.

He sprang up to meet her, and she came close to him, and spake from a laughing face: “Squire, hast thou no meat in thy wallet?  For, meseemeth, I fed thee when thou wert hungry the other day; do thou now the same by me.”

He smiled, and louted to her, and took his wallet and brought out thence bread and flesh and wine, and spread them all out before her on the green grass, and then stood by humbly before her.  But she said: “Nay, my Squire, sit down by me and eat with me, for to-day are we both hunters together.”

So he sat down by her trembling, but neither for awe of her greatness, nor for fear and horror of her guile and sorcery.

A while they sat there together after they had done their meat, and