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

out of her dish.  As to him, he was bashful by seeming, but verily fearful; he took the Lady’s caresses with what grace he might, and durst not so much as glance at her Maid.  Long indeed seemed that banquet to him, and longer yet endured the weariness of his abiding there, kind to his foe and unkind to his friend; for after the banquet they still sat a while, and the Lady talked much to Walter about many things of the ways of the world, and he answered what he might, distraught as he was with the thought of those two trysts which he had to deal with.

At last spake the Lady and said: “Now must I leave thee for a little, and thou wottest where and how we shall meet next; and meanwhile disport thee as thou wilt, so that thou weary not thyself, for I love to see thee joyous.”

Then she arose stately and grand; but she kissed Walter on the mouth ere she turned to go out of the hall.  The Maid followed her; but or ever she was quite gone, she stooped and made that sign, and looked over her shoulder at Walter, as if in entreaty to him, and there was fear and anguish in her face; but he nodded his head to her in yea-say of the tryst in the hazel-copse, and in a trice she was gone.

Walter went down the hall, and forth into the early night; but in the jaws of the porch he came up against the King’s Son, who, gazing at his attire glittering with all its gems in the moonlight, laughed out, and said: “Now may it be seen how thou art risen in degree above me, whereas I am but a king’s son, and that a king of a far country; whereas thou art a king of kings, or shalt be this night, yea, and of this very country wherein we both are.”

Now Walter saw the mock which lay under his words; but he kept back his wrath, and answered: “Fair sir, art thou as well contented with thy lot as when the sun went down?  Hast thou no doubt or fear?  Will the Maid verily keep tryst with thee, or hath she given thee yea-say but to escape thee this time?  Or, again, may she not turn to the Lady and appeal to her against thee?”

Now when he had spoken these words, he repented thereof, and feared for himself and the Maid, lest he had stirred some misgiving in that young man’s foolish heart.  But the King’s Son did but laugh, and answered nought but to Walter’s last words, and said: “Yea, yea! this word of thine showeth how little thou wottest of that which lieth betwixt my darling and thine.  Doth the lamb appeal from the shepherd to the wolf?  Even so shall the Maid appeal from me to thy Lady.  What! ask thy Lady at thy leisure what her wont hath been with her thrall; she shall think it a fair tale to tell thee thereof.  But thereof is my Maid all whole now by reason of her wisdom in leechcraft, or somewhat more.  And now I tell thee again, that the beforesaid Maid must needs do my will; for if I be the deep sea, and I deem not so ill of myself, that other one is the devil; as belike thou shalt find out for thyself later on.  Yea, all is well with me, and more than well.”

And therewith he swung merrily into the litten hall.  But Walter went out into the moonlit night, and wandered about for an hour or more, and stole warily into the hall and thence into his own chamber.  There he did off that royal array, and did his own raiment upon him; he girt him with sword and knife, took his bow and quiver, and stole down and out again, even as he had come in.  Then he fetched a compass, and came down into the hazel-coppice from the north, and lay hidden there while the night wore, till he deemed it would lack but little of midnight.

CHAPTER XXI: WALTER AND THE MAID FLEE FROM THE GOLDEN HOUSE

There he abode amidst the hazels, hearkening every littlest sound; and the sounds were nought but the night voices of the wood, till suddenly there burst forth from the house a great wailing cry.  Walter’s heart came up into his mouth, but he had no time to do aught, for following hard on the cry came the sound of light feet close to him, the boughs were thrust aside, and there was come the Maid, and she but in her white coat, and barefoot.  And then first he felt the sweetness of her flesh on his, for she caught him by the hand and said breathlessly: “Now, now! there may yet be time, or even too much, it may be.  For the saving of breath ask me no questions, but come!”

He dallied not, but went as she led, and they were lightfoot, both of them.

They went the same way, due south to wit, whereby he had gone a-hunting with the Lady; and whiles they ran and whiles they walked; but so fast they went, that by grey of the dawn they were come as far as that coppice or thicket of the Lion; and still they hastened onward, and but little had the Maid spoken, save here and there a word to hearten up Walter, and here and there a shy word of endearment.  At last the dawn grew into early day, and as they came over the brow of a bent, they looked down over a plain land whereas the trees grew scatter-meal, and beyond the plain rose up the land into long green hills, and over those again were blue mountains great and far away.

Then spake the Maid: “Over yonder lie the outlying mountains of the Bears, and through them we needs must pass, to our great peril.  Nay, friend,” she said, as he handled his sword-hilt, “it must be patience and wisdom to bring us through, and not the fallow blade of one man, though he be a good one.  But look! below there runs a stream through the first of the plain, and I see nought for it but we must now rest our bodies.  Moreover I have a tale to tell thee which is burning my heart; for maybe there will be a pardon to ask of thee moreover; wherefore I fear thee.”

Quoth Walter: “How may that be?”

She answered him not, but took his hand and led him down the bent.  But he said: “Thou sayest, rest; but are we now out of all peril of the chase?”

She said: “I cannot tell till I know what hath befallen her.  If she be not to hand to set on her trackers, they will scarce happen on us now; if it be not for that one.”

And she shuddered, and he felt her hand change as he held it.

Then she said: “But peril or no peril, needs must we rest; for I tell thee again, what I have to say to thee burneth my bosom for fear of thee, so that I can go no further until I have told thee.”

Then he said: “I wot not of this Queen and her mightiness and her servants.  I will ask thereof later.  But besides the others, is there not the King’s Son, he who loves thee so unworthily?”

She paled somewhat, and said: “As for him, there had been nought for thee to fear in him, save his treason: but now shall he neither love nor hate any more; he died last midnight.”

“Yea, and how?” said Walter.

“Nay,” she said, “let me tell my tale all together once for all, lest thou blame me overmuch.  But first we will wash us and comfort us as best we may, and then amidst our resting shall the word be said.”

By then were they come down to the stream-side, which ran fair in pools and stickles amidst rocks and sandy banks.  She said: “There behind the great grey rock is my bath, friend; and here is thine; and lo! the uprising of the sun!”

So she went her ways to the said rock, and he bathed him, and washed the night off him, and by then he was clad again she came back fresh and sweet from the water, and with her lap full of cherries from a wilding which overhung her bath.  So they sat down together on the green grass above the sand, and ate the breakfast of the wilderness: and Walter was full of content as he watched her, and beheld her sweetness and her loveliness; yet were they, either of them, somewhat shy and shamefaced each with the other; so that he did but kiss her hands once and again, and though she shrank not from him, yet had she no boldness to cast herself into his arms.

CHAPTER XXII: OF THE DWARF AND THE PARDON

Now she began to say: “My friend, now shall I tell thee what I have done for thee and me; and if thou have a mind to blame me, and punish me, yet remember first, that what I have done has been for thee and our hope of happy life.  Well, I shall tell thee—”

But therewithal her speech failed her; and, springing up, she faced the bent and pointed with her finger, and she all deadly pale, and shaking so that she might scarce stand, and might speak no word, though a feeble gibbering came from her mouth.

Walter leapt up and put his arm about her, and looked whitherward she pointed, and at first saw nought; and then nought but a brown and yellow rock rolling down the bent: and then at last he saw that it was the Evil Thing which had met him when first he came into that land; and now it stood upright, and he could see that it was clad in a coat of yellow samite.

Then Walter stooped down and gat his bow into his hand, and stood before the Maid, while he nocked an arrow.  But the monster made ready his tackle while Walter was stooping down, and or ever he could loose, his bow-string twanged, and an arrow flew forth and grazed the Maid’s arm above the elbow, so that the blood ran, and the Dwarf gave forth a harsh and horrible cry.  Then flew Walter’s shaft, and true was it aimed, so that it smote the monster full on the breast, but fell down from him as if he were made of stone.  Then the creature set up his horrible cry again, and loosed withal, and Walter deemed that he had smitten the Maid, for she fell down in a heap behind him.  Then waxed Walter wood-wroth, and cast down his bow and drew his sword, and strode forward towards the bent against the Dwarf.  But he roared out again, and there were words in his roar, and he said “Fool! thou shalt go free if thou wilt give up the Enemy.”

“And who,” said Walter, “is the Enemy?”

Yelled the Dwarf: “She, the pink and white thing lying there; she is not dead yet; she is but dying for fear of me.  Yea, she hath reason!  I could have set the shaft in her heart as easily as scratching her arm; but I need her body alive, that I may wreak me on her.”

“What wilt thou do with her?” said Walter; for now he had heard that the Maid was not slain he had waxed wary again, and stood watching his chance.

The Dwarf yelled so at his last word, that no word came from the noise a while, and then he said: “What will I with her?  Let me at her, and stand by and look on, and then shalt thou have a strange tale to carry off with thee.  For I will let thee go this while.”

Said Walter: “But what need to wreak thee?  What hath she done to thee?”

“What need! what need!” roared the Dwarf; “have I not told thee that she is the Enemy?  And thou askest of what she hath