The Wood Beyond the World by William Morris (ebook reader for surface pro .txt) 📗

For no otherwise mightest thou live, or I escape from death in life.  But as to the dastard who threatened me with a thrall’s pains, I heeded him nought to live or die, for well I knew that thy valiant sword, yea, or thy bare hands, would speedily tame him.  Now first I knew that I must make a show of yielding to the King’s Son; and somewhat how I did therein, thou knowest.  But no night and no time did I give him to bed me, till after I had met thee as thou wentest to the Golden House, before the adventure of fetching the lion’s skin; and up to that time I had scarce known what to do, save ever to bid thee, with sore grief and pain, to yield thee to the wicked woman’s desire.  But as we spake together there by the stream, and I saw that the Evil Thing (whose head thou clavest e’en now) was spying on us, then amidst the sickness of terror which ever came over me whensoever I thought of him, and much more when I saw him (ah! he is dead now!), it came flashing into my mind how I might destroy my enemy.  Therefore I made the Dwarf my messenger to her, by bidding thee to my bed in such wise that he might hear it.  And wot thou well, that he speedily carried her the tidings.  Meanwhile I hastened to lie to the King’s Son, and all privily bade him come to me and not thee.  And thereafter, by dint of waiting and watching, and taking the only chance that there was, I met thee as thou camest back from fetching the skin of the lion that never was, and gave thee that warning, or else had we been undone indeed.”

Said Walter: “Was the lion of her making or of thine then?”

She said: “Of hers: why should I deal with such a matter?”

“Yea,” said Walter, “but she verily swooned, and she was verily wroth with the Enemy.”

The Maid smiled, and said: “If her lie was not like very sooth, then had she not been the crafts-master that I knew her: one may lie otherwise than with the tongue alone: yet indeed her wrath against the Enemy was nought feigned; for the Enemy was even I, and in these latter days never did her wrath leave me.  But to go on with my tale.”

“Now doubt thou not, that, when thou camest into the hall yester eve, the Mistress knew of thy counterfeit tryst with me, and meant nought but death for thee; yet first would she have thee in her arms again, therefore did she make much of thee at table (and that was partly for my torment also), and therefore did she make that tryst with thee, and deemed doubtless that thou wouldst not dare to forgo it, even if thou shouldst go to me thereafter.”

“Now I had trained that dastard to me as I have told thee, but I gave him a sleepy draught, so that when I came to the bed he might not move toward me nor open his eyes: but I lay down beside him, so that the Lady might know that my body had been there; for well had she wotted if it had not.  Then as there I lay I cast over him thy shape, so that none might have known but that thou wert lying by my side, and there, trembling, I abode what should befall.  Thus I passed through the hour whenas thou shouldest have been at her chamber, and the time of my tryst with thee was come as the Mistress would be deeming; so that I looked for her speedily, and my heart wellnigh failed me for fear of her cruelty.”

“Presently then I heard a stirring in her chamber, and I slipped from out the bed, and hid me behind the hangings, and was like to die for fear of her; and lo, presently she came stealing in softly, holding a lamp in one hand and a knife in the other.  And I tell thee of a sooth that I also had a sharp knife in my hand to defend my life if need were.  She held the lamp up above her head before she drew near to the bed-side, and I heard her mutter: ‘She is not there then! but she shall be taken.’  Then she went up to the bed and stooped over it, and laid her hand on the place where I had lain; and therewith her eyes turned to that false image of thee lying there, and she fell a-trembling and shaking, and the lamp fell to the ground and was quenched (but there was bright moonlight in the room, and still I could see what betid).  But she uttered a noise like the low roar of a wild beast, and I saw her arm and hand rise up, and the flashing of the steel beneath the hand, and then down came the hand and the steel, and I went nigh to swooning lest perchance I had wrought over well, and thine image were thy very self.  The dastard died without a groan: why should I lament him?  I cannot.  But the Lady drew him toward her, and snatched the clothes from off his shoulders and breast, and fell a-gibbering sounds mostly without meaning, but broken here and there with words.  Then I heard her say: ‘I shall forget; I shall forget; and the new days shall come.’  Then was there silence of her a little, and thereafter she cried out in a terrible voice: ‘O no, no, no!  I cannot forget; I cannot forget;’ and she raised a great wailing cry that filled all the night with horror (didst thou not hear it?), and caught up the knife from the bed and thrust it into her breast, and fell down a dead heap over the bed and on to the man whom she had slain.  And then I thought of thee, and joy smote across my terror; how shall I gainsay it?  And I fled away to thee, and I took thine hands in mine, thy dear hands, and we fled away together.  Shall we be still together?”

He spoke slowly, and touched her not, and she, forbearing all sobbing and weeping, sat looking wistfully on him.  He said: “I think thou hast told me all; and whether thy guile slew her, or her own evil heart, she was slain last night who lay in mine arms the night before.  It was ill, and ill done of me, for I loved not her, but thee, and I wished for her death that I might be with thee.  Thou wottest this, and still thou lovest me, it may be overweeningly.  What have I to say then?  If there be any guilt of guile, I also was in the guile; and if there be any guilt of murder, I also was in the murder.  Thus we say to each other; and to God and his Hallows we say: ‘We two have conspired to slay the woman who tormented one of us, and would have slain the other; and if we have done amiss therein, then shall we two together pay the penalty; for in this have we done as one body and one soul.’”

Therewith he put his arms about her and kissed her, but soberly and friendly, as if he would comfort her.  And thereafter he said to her: “Maybe to-morrow, in the sunlight, I will ask thee of this woman, what she verily was; but now let her be.  And thou, thou art over-wearied, and I bid thee sleep.”

So he went about and gathered of bracken a great heap for her bed, and did his coat thereover, and led her thereto, and she lay down meekly, and smiled and crossed her arms over her bosom, and presently fell asleep.  But as for him, he watched by the fire-side till dawn began to glimmer, and then he also laid him down and slept.

CHAPTER XXV: OF THE TRIUMPHANT SUMMER ARRAY OF THE MAID

When the day was bright Walter arose, and met the Maid coming from the river-bank, fresh and rosy from the water.  She paled a little when they met face to face, and she shrank from him shyly.  But he took her hand and kissed her frankly; and the two were glad, and had no need to tell each other of their joy, though much else they deemed they had to say, could they have found words thereto.

So they came to their fire and sat down, and fell to breakfast; and ere they were done, the Maid said: “My Master, thou seest we be come nigh unto the hill-country, and to-day about sunset, belike, we shall come into the Land of the Bear-folk; and both it is, that there is peril if we fall into their hands, and that we may scarce escape them.  Yet I deem that we may deal with the peril by wisdom.”

“What is the peril?” said Walter; “I mean, what is the worst of it?”

Said the Maid: “To be offered up in sacrifice to their God.”

“But if we escape death at their hands, what then?” said Walter.

“One of two things,” said she; “the first that they shall take us into their tribe.”

“And will they sunder us in that case?” said Walter.

“Nay,” said she.

Walter laughed and said: “Therein is little harm then.  But what is the other chance?”

Said she: “That we leave them with their goodwill, and come back to one of the lands of Christendom.”

Said Walter: “I am not all so sure that this is the better of the two choices, though, forsooth, thou seemest to think so.  But tell me now, what like is their God, that they should offer up new-comers to him?”

“Their God is a woman,” she said, “and the Mother of their nation and tribes (or so they deem) before the days when they had chieftains and Lords of Battle.”

“That will be long ago,” said he; “how then may she be living now?”

Said the Maid: “Doubtless that woman of yore agone is dead this many and many a year; but they take to them still a new woman, one after other, as they may happen on them, to be in the stead of the Ancient Mother.  And to tell thee the very truth right out, she that lieth dead in the Pillared Hall was even the last of these; and now, if they knew it, they lack a God.  This shall we tell them.”

“Yea, yea!” said Walter, “a goodly welcome shall we have of them then, if we come amongst them with our hands red with the blood of their God!”

She smiled on him and said: “If I come amongst them with the tidings that I have slain her, and they trow therein, without doubt they shall make me Lady and Goddess in her stead.”

“This is a strange word,” said Walter “but if so they do, how shall that further us in reaching the kindreds of the world, and the folk of Holy Church?”

She laughed outright, so joyous was she grown, now that she knew that his life was yet to be a part of hers.  “Sweetheart,” she said, “now I see that thou desirest wholly what I desire; yet in any case, abiding with them would be living and not dying, even as thou hadst it e’en now.  But, forsooth, they will not hinder our departure if they deem me their God; they do not look for it, nor desire it, that their God should dwell with them daily.  Have no fear.”  Then she laughed again, and said: “What! thou lookest on me and deemest me to be but a sorry image of a goddess; and me with my scanty coat and bare arms and naked feet!  But wait!  I know well how to array me when the time cometh.  Thou shalt see it!  And now, my Master, were it not meet that we took to the road?”

So they arose, and found a ford of the river that took the Maid but to the knee, and so set forth up the greensward