The Geste of Duke Jocelyn Part 4

So came she to the gate, then cried in fear, And started back from sudden-levelled spear; For 'neath the gate lounged l.u.s.ty fellows three Who seldom spake yet spat right frequently.

"Kind sirs, good sirs," the ancient dame did cry, "In mercy's name I pray ye let me by--"

But, as she spoke, a black-jowled fellow laughed, And, spitting, tripped her with out-thrust pike-shaft,

That down she fell and wailed most piteously, Whereat the brawny fellows laughed all three.

"Ha, witch!" they cried, as thus she helpless lay, "Shalt know the fire and roasted be one day!"

Now as the aged creature wailed and wept, Forth to her side Duke Joc'lyn lightly stepped, With quarter-staff a-twirl he blithely came.

Quoth he: "Messires, harm not this ancient dame, Bethink ye how e'en old and weak as she, Your wives and mothers all must one day be.

So here then lies your mother, and 't were meeter As ye are sons that as sons ye entreat her.

Come, let her by and, fool-like to requite ye, With merry j.a.pe and quip I will delight ye, Or with sweet song I 'll charm those a.s.s's ears, And melt, belike, those bullish hearts to tears--"

Now the chief warder, big and black of jowl, Upon the Duke most scurvily did scowl.

"How now," quoth he, "we want no fool's-heads here--"

"Sooth," laughed the Duke, "you're fools enow 't is clear, Yet there be fools and fools, ye must allow, Gay fools as I and surly fools--as thou."

"Ha, look 'ee, Fool, Black Lewin e'en am I, And, by my head, an ill man to defy.

Now, motley rogue, wilt call me fool?" he roared, And roaring fierce, clapped hairy fist on sword.

"Aye, that will I," Duke Joc'lyn soft replied, And black-avised, swart, knavish rogue beside."

But now, while thus our ducal jester spoke, Black Lewin sprang and fetched him such a stroke

That Jocelyn saw flash before his eyes, More stars that e'er he'd noticed in the skies.

Whereat Sir Pertinax did gaping stare, Then ground his teeth and mighty oaths did swear, And in an instant bared his trusty blade, But then the Duke his fiery onslaught stayed.

"Ha!" cried the Knight, "and wilt thou smitten be By such base knave, such filthy rogue as he?"

"Nay," smiled the Duke, "stand back and watch, good brother, A Rogue and Fool at buffets with each other."

And speaking thus, he leapt on Black Lewin, And smote him twice full hard upon the chin, Two goodly blows upon that big, black jowl, Whereat Black Lewin l.u.s.tily did howl And falling back, his polished bascinet With ringing clash the cold, hard flagstones met.

Whereat his fellows, shouting fierce alarms, Incontinent betook them to their arms; And thus it seemed a fight there must have been But that a horseman sudden spurred between-- A blue-eyed youth with yellow, curling hair, Of slender shape, of face and feature fair, A dainty knight was he in very truth, A blue-eyed, merry, laughter-loving youth.

"Ha, knaves, what do ye with the Fool?" lisped he, "Wilt strike a motley, dogs--a Fool? Let be!

Though faith,'t would seem, Sir Fool, thou hast a fist That surly Lewin to his dole hath kissed.

If it can strum thy lute but half as well, Then gestours all methinks thou should'st excel--

Ye rogues, pa.s.s Folly in, no man shall say That from our town we folly turned away.

Come, follow, Fool, into the market-square, And give us earnest of thy foolish ware."

Now it was market day, and within the goodly square were people come from near and far, a notable concourse, country folk and folk of the town, farmers and merchants, rustic maids, fair ladies, knights and esquires on horseback or a-foot, but who, hearing the jingle of the Duke's tinkling bells, seeing his flaunting c.o.c.k's-comb, with one accord gathered to him from every quarter:

For when this long-legged gestour they espied, They, laughing, hemmed him in on every side, And, "See, a Fool! A Fool! The Fool must sing,"

And "Fool! A Fool!" upon the air did ring, Wherefore the Duke betook him to his lute, And strummed until the chattering crowd was mute.

Then while all folk did hold their peace to hear, In golden voice he sang, full rich and clear:

"'A fool! A fool!' ye cry, A fool forsooth am I.

But tell me, wise ones, if ye can, Where shall ye find a happy man?

Lived there one since the world began?

Come, answer ye To me!

"'What of the king?' says you.

Says I to you--'Go to!

A king despite his crown and throne, Hath divers troubles all his own.

Such woes, methinks, as are unknown To such as ye, Or me!'

"'Ha, then--the rich!' ye cry, 'Not so in truth,' says I.

'The rich man's gold is load of care, That day and night he needs must bear; Less care he'd know if poor he were, As poor as ye, Or me!'

"For, sirs, as I do guess This thing called 'Happiness'

Man leaveth with his youth behind; So keep ye all a youthful mind, Thus happiness ye all shall find If wit have ye, Like me!

"O list ye, great and small, Proud knight, free man and thrall, True happiness, since life began, The birthright is of every man; Seize then your birthright if ye can, Since men are ye-- Like me!

"Thus I forsooth, a Fool, Do now ye wise ones school; Since of my folly, full and free, I wisely thus admonish ye, Be wise--or eke fools learn to be In verity-- Like me!"

Now when the song was ended some there were who laughed and some looked grave, some talked amain and some wagged solemn heads, while many a good coin rang heartily at Duke Jocelyn's feet; smiling, he bade Sir Pertinax take them up, joying to see the proud Knight stooping thus to pouch the money like any beggar. But now, when he would fain have gone his way into the town, the people would by no means suffer it and clamoured amain on all sides, insistent for more; wherefore, lifting his scarred face to the sunset sky, Duke Jocelyn sang as here followeth:

"When man is born he doth begin With right good will, to daily sin, And little careth.

But when his grave he thinketh near, Then grave he groweth in his fear And sin forsweareth.

"This life that man doth cherish so, Is wondrous frail and quick to go, Nor will it stay.

Yet where's the man that will not give All that he hath so he might live Another day.

"Fain would I know the reason why All men so fearful are to die And upward go?

Since Death all woes and ills doth end, Sure Death, methinks, should be a friend, Not hated foe.

"So when Death come, as come he must, Grieve not that we this sorry dust Do leave behind.

For when this fleeting life be run,

By Death we all of us--each one, True life shall find."

Now while he sang melodious and clear Amid the throng that closer pressed to hear, Duke Joc'lyn of a sudden did espy The "wherefore" of his coming and the "why."

Yolande herself he, singing, did behold, Her eyes, red lips, her hair of ruddy gold; And all her warm and glowing loveliness Did sudden thus his raptured vision bless; While she, in gracious ease, her horse did sit That pawed round hoof and champed upon his bit, Arching proud neck as if indeed he were Proud of the lovely burden he did bear.

As Joc'lyn gazed upon her thus, she seemed A thousand times more fair than he had dreamed.

Now while he sang, she viewed him, gentle-eyed, And quite forgot the gallant by her side, A tall, dark-featured, comely lord was he, With chin full square and eyes of mastery, Who, when the Duke made of his song an end Did from his saddle o'er Yolanda bend.

With eyes on her warm beauty he stooped near To touch white hand and whisper in her ear; Whereat she laughed and frowned with cheek flushed red Then, frowning still, she turned her horse's head, And rode away with dame and squire and knight, Till lost she was to Joc'lyn's ravished sight.

"Ha, lord!" quoth Sir Pertinax, as they came within a quiet thoroughfare, "this lady is grown more fair since last we saw her Queen of Beauty at Melloc joust, concerning whom Fame, in troth, doth breed a just report for once. But, messire, didst mark him beside her--with touch o' hand, lord, whispers i' the ear--didst mark this wolf, this Seneschal, this thrice accurst Sir Gui?"

"Aye, forsooth," answered the Duke, "but thou'rt an hungered, methinks?"

"To touch her hand, lord--aha! To whisper in her ear, lord--oho! A right puissant lord, Seneschal of Raddemore, Lord of Thorn and Knight of Ells! A lord of puissance and power potential."

"And thou, my Pertinax, art but a hungry Knight, that trampeth with a hungry Fool, wherefore let us forthwith--"