The Water of the Wondrous Isles by William Morris (love letters to the dead txt) 📗

the sooth is that I should have died if I had not found thee here; I have been sick so long with hoping.

Again were they silent till she said: I would that I had heard thee crossing the brook.  But the wood-wife bade me look for thee no earlier than to-morrow; else had I time enough; and I would have made the house trim with the new green boughs, and dighted our bed with rose blooms; and I would have done on me my shining gown that the wood-wife gave me.  For indeed she was but clad in her scanty smock and nought else.

But he laid his head on her bosom and kissed her all about, and said: Nay, my own love, it is well, it is better.  And she murmured over him: O friend, my dear, think not that I had will to hide me from thee.  All that is here of me is thine, and thine, and thine.

And she took his hand and they arose together, and she said: O friend, I fled from thee once and left thee lonely of me because I deemed need drave me to it; and I feared the strife of friends, and confusion and tangle.  Now if thou wilt avenge thee on me thou mayest, for I am in thy power.  Yet will I ask thee what need will drive thee to leave me lonely?

He said: The need of death.  But she said: Mayhappen we shall lie together then, as here to-night we shall lie.

p. 503CHAPTER XXVIII.  FAIR DAYS IN THE HOUSE OF LOVE.

On the morrow it was sweet times betwixt those twain, and what was hard and fierce of their love they seemed to have put behind them.  A dear joy it was to Birdalone that day to busy herself about the housekeeping, and to provide whatsoever seemed now, or had seemed to her in her early days, to be dainties of their meadow and woodland husbandry, as cream and junkets and wood-fruit and honey, and fine bread made for that very occasion.

Withal she was careful as a mother with a child that he should not over-weary himself with the sun of the early summer, but rather to follow the brook up into the wood and lie adown in the flecked shadow and rest him wholly, as if there were nought for him to do but to take in rest all that was done for his service, both by the earth and by the hands and nimble feet of Birdalone.  And as she was wilful in other ways of her cherishing, so also in this, that for nought in that daylight would she go anywise disarrayed, nay not so much as to go barefoot, though he prayed her thereof sorely, and told her that fairer and sweeter she was in her smock alone than in any other raiment.  For in the morning she went in her woodland green let down to her heels, and when the day wore towards evening, and the wind came cool from over the Great Water, then she did on her wonder-raiment which the wood-wife had given her, and led Arthur over the meadows here and there, and went gleaming by the side of the black-clad man along the water’s lip.  And they looked forth on to Green Eyot and Rock Eyot, and stood by the shallow bight where she had bathed those times; and they went along to the dismal creek where the Sending Boat was wont to lie, and where yet lay the scattered staves of it; and then along the meadow-land they went from end to end, resting oft on the flowery grass, till the dews began to fall and the moon cast shadows on the greensward.  Then home they fared to the house; and again on the way must Birdalone feign for their disport that the witch was come back again, and was awaiting her to play the tyrant with her; and Arthur fell in with her game, and kissed her and clipped her, and then drew his sword and said: By All-hallows I shall smite off her head if she but lay a finger on thee.

So they played like two happy children till they came to the door of the house, and Birdalone shoved it open, and they two looked in together and saw nought worse therein save the strange shadows that the moon cast from the settle on to the floor.  Then Birdalone drew in her love, and went about lighting the candles and quickening a little cooking fire on the hearth, till the yellow light chased the moon away from the bed of their desire.

p. 505CHAPTER XXIX.  THOSE TWAIN WILL SEEK THE WISDOM OF THE WOOD-WIFE.

Again next day was their life such as it had been the day before; and as they lay in cool shadow of a great oak, Birdalone fell to telling Arthur all the whole story of her dealings with the wood-wife, and how that she had so loved her and holpen her, that through her love and her help she had escaped the witch and her snares, who would have turned her into a half-devil for the undoing of manfolk.  And how that the said wood-wife had never appeared to her but as an image and double of herself, save on the time when she played the leech to him.  Then she told him how all had gone when the wood-wife had sought him out for the fulfilment of their love, and of the dreadful day when they had come upon him out of his wit and but little manlike.

Then she asked, would he, within the next day or two, that they should go see the wood-wife together and thank her for her help, and bring him within the ring of her love and guarding; and he yeasaid it with a good will.

After this she would have him tell her of how things had gone with him since that evil day when he had come home from the Castle of the Quest and found her gone.  So he told her somewhat, and of his dole and misery, and his dealings with the foemen of Greenford; but yet scantly, and as one compelled; and at last he said:

Dear love, since thou art cossetting me with all solace of caresses, I pray thee remember my trouble and grief, how sore they were, and do with me as with a sick man getting well, as I wot surely thou wouldest do; and do thou that which is at this present the softest and merriest to me, and that forsooth is, that thou shouldest talk and tell, and I should hearken the sweetness of the music, and only here and there put in a word to rest thee and make thy tale the sweeter.

She laughed with love on him, and without more ado fell to telling everything she might think of, concerning her days in the House of Captivity, both when she was but a bairn, and when she was grown to be a young woman; and long was she about the tale, nor was it all done in one day; and a multitude of things she told him which are not set down in this book.

In the evening when they were going again to and fro the meads, it was other talk they fell on, to wit, of their fellows of the Quest, both of Sir Hugh and the three lovely ladies: and now was Arthur nought but kind when he spake of Atra, nor spake Birdalone otherwise; but she said: I shall now say a hard word, yet must thou bear it, my loveling, since we twain are now become one, and have but one joy together and one sorrow.  Deemest thou that Atra is yet alive?  Sooth it is, said Arthur, it may well be that I have slain her.  And what may we do by her if ever we fall in with her alive? said Birdalone.  I wot not, said Arthur; some would say that we have done penance for our fault, both thou and I; and what other penance may we do, save sundering from each other?  And by God above I will not.  By thine head and thine hands I will not, said Birdalone.

So said they; but therewith their eyes told tales of the fair eve and the lovely meadows, and the house, the shrine of the dear white bed no less sweet to them than erst; but then presently Birdalone stayed her love, and took her arms about him, and each felt the sweetness of the other’s body, and joy blossomed anew in their hearts.  Then fell Arthur to telling of the deeds and the kindness of Baudoin, whom never again they should see on the earth; and they turned back home to the house, and on the way spake Birdalone: This is what I would we should do: whereas I have sought thee and thou me, and we have found each other, whereas ye sought me when I went astray in the Black Valley of the Greywethers, and before, when ye three sought your own loves, now I would that we should seek our fellows and have joy in them, and thole sorrow with them as in days gone by.

Spake Arthur: Dear is the rest with thee in this wilderness; yet were it a deed of fame, and would bring about a day of joy, might we find our friends again, and knit up the links of the fellowship once more.  But thou the wise and valiant! belike thou hast in thine head some device whereby this might be set about.

Birdalone said: Simple is my device, to wit, that we ask one who is wiser than I.  Let us tarry not, but go to-morrow and see the wood-wife and talk with her concerning it.  Then she smiled upon him and said: But when thou seest her, wilt thou be aghast if she come before us in my shape of what I was five years agone, or six?

Nay, nay, he said, thou art not so terrible as that; not very far do I run from thee now.  And therewith they kissed and embraced, and so entered the House of Love.

p. 509CHAPTER XXX.  THEY HAVE SPEECH WITH HABUNDIA CONCERNING THE GREEN KNIGHT AND HIS FELLOWS.

When the morrow was they arose and went their ways toward the wood, and Birdalone in her hunter’s coat, quiver at back and bow in hand.  They came to the Oak of Tryst, and Birdalone was at point to call on the wood-wife by the burning of a hair of hers, when she came lightly from out the thicket, clad as Birdalone, and her very image.  She stood before them with a glad countenance, and said: Welcome to the seekers and finders.  But Arthur stepped forth and knelt before her, and took her right hand and kissed it, and said: Here I swear allegiance to thee, O Lady of the Woods, to do thy will in all things, and give thee thanks from my heart more than my tongue can say.

Quoth the wood-wife: I take thine allegiance, fair young man, and mine help shalt thou have henceforward.  Then she smiled and her eyes danced for merriment, and she said: Yet thy thanks meseemeth for this while are more due to the wise carline who brought thee through the woods two days ago, and only left thee when the way was easy and clear to thee.

Lady, said Arthur, I know now how great is thy might, and that thou canst take more shapes than this only; and humbly I thank thee that for us thou hast taken the shape that I love the best of all on the earth.

Said the wood-wife: Stand up, Black Squire, and consider a little what thou wouldst have me do for thee, while I have speech with mine image yonder.  And therewith she came up to Birdalone, and drew her a little apart, and fell to stroking her cheeks and patting her hands and diversely caressing her, and she said to her: How now, my child, have I done for thee what I promised, and art thou wholly happy now?  O yea, said Birdalone; if nought else befell us in this life but to dwell together betwixt the woodland and the water, and to see thee oft, full happy should we be.

Nevertheless, said Habundia, art thou not come hither to ask somewhat of me, that ye may be happier?  So it is, wise mother, said Birdalone; grudge not against me therefor, for more than one thing drives me thereto.  I will not grudge, said the wood-wife; but now I will ask thy mate if he has thought what it is that he will have of me.  And she turned to Arthur, who came forth and said: Lady, I have heard thee, and herein would we have thee help us: There were erst six fellows of us, three caries and three