The Water of the Wondrous Isles, William Morris [funny books to read .txt] 📗

Now he spake fiercely and roughly, and as though he had something against me: Tell me, thou, who thou art and who this is?  I answered nought, for fear had frozen my speech.  He stamped his foot on the ground and cried: Hah! art thou gone dumb?  Speak! thou wert best!  I said, all quaking: My name is Birdalone; I belong to no one; I have no kindred: as for this man, I know not his name.  He said: Comest thou from the Castle of the Quest?  Art thou the whore of those lily-and-rose champions there?  My heart was hot with anger in spite of my dread, but I spake: I came from the Castle of the Quest.  He said: And this man (therewith he turned about and spurned him in the side), where didst thou happen upon him?  Again I was silent, and he roared out at me: So thou wilt not answer!  Beware, or I may see how to compel the speech of thee.  Now answer me this: Was it in the Black Valley of the Greywethers that ye two came together?  Again I knew not how to answer, lest I might do a wrong to him who had repented him of the wrong he had done me.  But the Red Knight burst out a-laughing and said: It shall be remembered against thee, first, that thou didst let fly a shaft at me; second, that thou didst run from me; and thirdly, that thou hast been slack in answering my questions.  But all this scathes me nought; first, because thy shaft missed me; second, because thy legs failed thee (though they were fair to look on, running); and third, because all thou canst tell me I know without thine answering.  Now thee will I tell that this is Friday, and that ye two first met in the Black Valley on Tuesday; now I will ask this last question, and thou mayst answer it or not as thou wilt; for presently I shall wake this brisk and stirring knight, and I deem that he will tell me the truth of this if of nought else.  Tell me, thou whore of the Questing Champions, where and how many times thou hast lain in this good knight’s arms since last Tuesday?  Nowhere and never, quoth I.  Thou liest, I doubt thee, said the Red Knight; howsoever, let us see what this doughty one will say.  Hah! thou deemest he shall be hard to wake up, dost thou not!  Well, I shall see to that.  He who giveth sleep may take it away again.

Therewith he went up to the Black One and stooped adown over his head, and spake some words over him, but so softly that I heard not their import; and straightway the sleeper rose up so suddenly that he wellnigh smote against the Red Knight.  He stood awhile staggering, and blinking at the other one, but somehow got his sword drawn forth, and the Red Knight hindered him nought therein, but spake anon when the other was come to himself somewhat: The sele of the day to thee, Sir Thomas, True Thomas!  Fair is thy bed, and most fair thy bedfellow.

The Black Knight drew aback from him and was now come awake, wherefore he stood on his guard, but said nought.  Then said the Red Knight: Sir Thomas, I have been asking this fair lady a question, but her memory faileth her and she may not answer it; perchance thou mayst do better.  Tell me where and how many times hast thou bedded her betwixt last Tuesday and this?  Nowhere and never, cried Sir Thomas, knitting his brows and handling his sword.  Hah, said the Red Knight, an echo of her speech is this.  Lo, the tale ye have made up betwixt you.  But at least, having done mine errand, though meseemeth somewhat leisurely, and having gotten the woman for me, thou art now bringing her on to the Red Hold, whatever thou hast done with her on the road?  I am not, said my fellow, I am leading her away from the Red Hold.  Pity of thee, quoth the other, that thou hast fallen in with me, and thou but half-armed.  And he raised aloft his sword; but presently sank it again, and let the point rest on the earth.

Then he spoke again, not mockingly as erst: A word before we end it, Thomas: thou hast hitherto done well by me, as I by thee.  I say thou hast gotten this woman, and I doubt not that at first thou hadst the mind to bring her to me unminished; but then thou wert overcome by her beauty, as forsooth I know thee woman-mad, and thou hadst meant to keep her for thyself, as forsooth I marvel not.  But in thy love-making thou hast not bethought thee that keep her to thyself thou mayst not while I am above ground, save thou bewray me, and join thee to my foemen and thine.  Because I am such a man, that what I desire that will I have.  For this reason, when I misdoubted me of thee for thy much-tarrying, I cast the sleep over thee, and have caught thee.  For what wilt thou do?  Doubt it not, that if our swords meet, I shall pay thee for trying to take my bedthrall from me by taking from thee no more than thy life.  But now will I forgive thee all if thou wilt ride home quietly with me and this damsel-errant to the Red Hold, and let her be mine and not thine so long as I will; and then afterwards, if thou wilt, she shall be thine as long as thou wilt.  Now behold, both this chance and thy life is a mere gift of me to thee, for otherwise thou shalt have neither damsel nor life.

Yea, yea, said my friend, I know what thou wouldest: I have been no unhandy devil to thee this long while, and thou wouldst fain keep me still; but now I will be devil no longer, on this earth at least, but will die and take my luck of it.  And do thou, God, see to the saving of this damsel, since thou hast taken the matter out of my hands.  Farewell, dear maiden!

Scarce was the word out of his mouth ere his sword was in the air, and he smote so fierce and straight that he beat down the huge man’s blade, and, ere he could master it again, smote the Red Knight so heavily on the crest that he fell to his knees; and the heart rose in me, for I deemed that he might yet prevail; and in as ’twere a flash I bethought me of the knife at my girdlestead, and drew it and ran to the Red Knight, and tore aside his mail hood with one hand and thrust the knife into his shoulder with the other; but so mighty was he that he heeded nought the hurt, but swept his sword back-handed at the Black Knight’s unarmed leg, and smote him so sore a wound that down he fell clattering.  Then arose the Red Knight, and thrust me from him with the left hand, and strode over my fellow-farer and thrust his sword through his throat.  Then he turned to me, and spake in a braying voice as if a harsh horn were blown:

Abide thou; if thou takest one step I will slay thee at once.  So he went and sat down on a bank a little way from the dead man, and wiped his sword on the grass and laid it beside him, and so sat pondering a while.  Thereafter he called me to him, and bade me stand in face of him with my hands clasped before me.  Then he spake to me: Thou art my thrall and my having, since I had thus doomed it no few days ago; and thou art now in my hands for me to do with as I will.  Now instead of being meek and obedient to me thou hast rebelled against me, shot an arrow at me, run from me, denied answer to my questions, and thrust a knife into me.  To be short, thou hast made thyself my foe.  Furthermore, it is by thy doing that I have lost a right good servant and a trusty fellow, and one that I loved; it is thou that hast slain him.  Now have I been pondering what I shall do with thee.  I said: If I have deserved the death, then make an end and slay me presently; but bring me not to thine house, I pray thee.  I pray by the mother that bore thee!

Quoth he: Hold thy peace, it is not what thou deservest that I am looking to, but what shall pleasure me.  Now hearken; I say that thou hast made thee my foe, and I have overcome thee; thou art my runaway thrall, and I have caught thee.  As my foe I might slay thee in any evil way it might like me; as my thrall I might well chastise thee as sharply and as bitterly as I would.  But it is not my pleasure to slay thee, rather I will bring thee to the Red Hold, and there see what we may make of thee; whereas I cannot but deem that in thee is the making of somewhat more than a thrall; and if not, then a thrall must thou needs be.  Again as to the chastising of thee, that also I forgive thee since I have gotten the hope aforesaid.  Yet forsooth some shame must I do thee to pay thee back for the love that was betwixt thee and the slain man.  I will ponder what it shall be; but take heed that whatsoever it shall be, it will not avail thee to pray me to forego it, though thy speech be as fair and sweet as thy body.

Therewith he was silent a while, and I stood there not daring to move, and my heart was so downcast that all the sweetness of life seemed departed.  Yet I withheld lamentations or prayers, thinking within myself, who knows what occasion may be between this and the Red Hold for my escaping; let me keep myself alive for that if it may be.

Presently he arose and took his sword, and went up to the slain man’s body and smote the head from off it.  Then he went to the two horses of Sir Thomas and of me, and took from them such gear of girths and thongs as he would, and therewith he dight me as ye saw, doing a girth about my middle and making me fast to a line wherewith to hold me in tow.  And then he did that other thing which sickens my very soul to tell of, to wit, that he took the slain man’s head and tied a lace thereto, and hung it about my neck; and as he did so, he said: This jewel shalt thou thyself bear to mine house; and there belike shall we lay it in earth, since the man was my trusty fellow.  Lo now, this is all the ill I shall do thee till it be tried of what avail thou art.  This is a shaming to thee and not a torment, for I will ride a foot’s-pace, and the green way is both soft and smooth; wherefore fear not that I shall throw thee down or drag thee along.  And to-morrow thy shame shall be gone and we shall see what is to betide.

Lo, friends, this is the last word he spake ere he was slain, and the ending of my tale; for we had gone thus but a little way ere ye brake out of the wood upon us; and then befell the death of one friend, and the doubt, maybe, of the others, and all the grief and sorrow that I shall never be quit of unless ye forgive me where I have done amiss, and help me in the days to come.  And she spread out her hands before them, and bowed her head, and the tears fell from her eyes on to the floor.

Viridis wept at Birdalone’s weeping, and Aurea for her own sorrow, which this other sorrow stirred.  Atra wept not, but her face was sadder than weeping.

But Arthur spake and said: Herein hath been the hand of Weird, and hath been heavy on us; but no blame have we to lay on our sister Birdalone, nor hath she done light-mindedly by us; though maybe she erred in not trusting to the good-hap of the Quest to bring us back in due time: and all that she saith do we trow as if it were written in the Holy Gospel.  They all yeasaid this, and called on her to come amongst them; but she thought of little at first save the