Beltane the Smith Part 97

"Cut away thy last notch, Roger--thy belt shall go smooth-edged henceforth and thy soul clean, methinks."

"But I meant to slay thee, Giles."

"But spared me, Roger, spared me to life and--love, my Rogerkin. O friend, give me thy belt!"

So Roger gave him the belt, wherefrom Giles forthwith cut the last notch, which done, they together, like mischievous lads, turned to look where their lord rode far ahead; and beholding him all unconscious and lost in thought, they sighed their relief and mounting, went on together.

Now did Roger oft glance at Giles who kept his face averted and held his peace, whereat Roger grew uneasy, fidgeted in his saddle, fumbled with the reins, and at last spake:

"Giles!"

"Aye, Roger!"

"Forgive me!"

But Giles neither turned nor spake, wherefore contrite Roger must needs set an arm about him and turn him about, and behold, the archer's eyes were br.i.m.m.i.n.g with great tears!

"O Giles!" gasped Roger, "O Giles!"

"Roger, I--I do love her, man--I do love her, heart and soul! Is this so hard to believe, Roger, or dost think me rogue so base that true love is beyond me? 'Tis true I am unworthy, and yet--I do verily love her, Roger!"

"Wilt forgive me--can'st forgive me, Giles?"

"Aye, Roger, for truly we have saved each other's lives so oft we must needs be friends, thou and I. Only thy words did--did hurt me, friend-- for indeed this love of mine hath in it much of heaven, Roger. And-- there be times when I do dream of mayhap--teaching--a little Giles--to loose a straight shaft--some day. O sweet Jesu, make me worthy, amen!"

And now Beltane glancing up and finding the sun high, summoned Giles and Roger beside him.

"Friends," said he, "we have journeyed farther than methought. Now let us turn into the boskage yonder and eat."

So in a while, the horses tethered, behold them within a leafy bower eating and drinking and laughing like the blithe foresters they were, until, their hunger a.s.suaged, they made ready to mount. But of a sudden the bushes parted near by and a man stepped forth; a small man he, plump and buxom, whose quick, bright eyes twinkled 'neath his wide-eaved hat as he saluted Beltane with obeisance very humble and lowly. Quoth he:

"Right n.o.ble and most resplendent lord Duke Beltane, I do most humbly greet thee, I--Lubbo Fitz-Lubbin, past Pardoner of the Holy See--who but a poor plain soul am, do offer thee my very insignificant, yet most sincere, felicitous good wishes."

"My thanks are thine. Pardoner. What more would you?"

"Breath, lord methinks," said Giles, "wind, my lord, after periods so profound and sonorous!"

"Lord Duke, right puissant and most potential, I would but tell thee this, to wit, that I did keep faith with thee, that I, by means of this unworthy hand, did set thee beyond care, lift thee above sorrow, and gave to thee the heaven of thy most warm and earnest desires."

"How mean you, Pardoner?"

"Lord Duke, when thou didst bestow life on two poor rogues upon a time, when one rogue stole away minded to betray thee to thine enemy, the second rogue did steal upon the first rogue, and this second rogue bare a small knife whereof the first rogue suddenly died. And thus Duke Ivo, thine enemy, came not before Belsaye until thou and thy company were safe within its walls. So by reason of this poor second rogue, Pentavalon doth rejoice in freedom. To-day is singing on every village green--happiness is in the very air, for 'tis Pentavalon's Beltane, and Beltane is a sweet season; so doth this poor second rogue find him recompense. Verily art well named, lord Beltane, since in thee Pentavalon's winter is pa.s.sed away and spring is come--O happy season of Beltane, O season of new beginnings and new hopes! So, my lord Beltane, may it ever be Beltane with thee, may it be sweet spring ever within thy n.o.ble heart. G.o.d keep thee and farewell."

So saying the Pardoner turned about, and plunging into the dense green, was gone.

"A pestilent wordy fellow, lord," quoth Giles, "one of your windy talkers that talketh that no other talker may talk--now give me a good listener, say I."

"And yet," said Beltane, swinging to saddle, "spake he truly I wonder?

Had Ivo been a little sooner we had not been here, methinks!"

On they rode, through sun and shadow, knee and knee, beneath leafy arches and along green glades, talking and laughing together or plunged in happy thought.

Quoth Beltane of a sudden:

"Roger, hast heard how Giles waxeth in fortune these days?"

"And methinks no man is more worthy, master. Giles is for sure a man of parts."

"Aye--more especially of tongue, Roger."

"As when he did curse the folk of Belsaye out o' their fears, master.

Moreover he is a notable archer and--"

"Art not envious, then, Roger?"

"Not I, master!"

"What would'st that I give unto thee?"

"Thy love, master."

"'Tis thine already, my faithful Roger."

"And therewithal am I content, master."

"Seek ye nought beside?"

"Lord, what is there? Moreover I am not learned like Giles, nor ready of tongue, nor--"

"Art wondrous skilled in wood-lore, my Rogerkin!" quoth Giles.

"Forsooth, lord, there is no man knoweth more of forestry than my good comrade Roger!"

"So will I make of him my chiefest huntsman, Giles--"

"Master--O master!" gasped Roger.

"And set thee over all my foresters of Pentavalon, Roger."

"Why master, I--forsooth I do love the greenwood--but lord, I am only Roger, and--and how may I thank thee--"

"Come!" cried Beltane, and spurred to a gallop.

Thus rode they through the leafy by-ways, avoiding town and village; yet oft from afar they heard the joyous throb of bells upon the air, or the sound of merry voices and happy laughter from village commons where folk rejoiced together that Ivo's iron yoke was lifted from them at last. But Beltane kept ever to the woods and by-ways, lest, being recognised, he should be stayed longer from her of whom he dreamed, bethinking him ever of the deep, shy pa.s.sion of her eyes, the soft tones of her voice, the clinging warmth of her caress, and all the sweet, warm beauty of her. Betimes they crossed the marches into Mortain, but it was late evening ere they saw at last the sleepy manor of Blaen, its white walls and steepy roofs dominated by its one square watch-tower, above which a standard, stirring lazily in the gentle air, discovered the red lion of Pentavalon.

And now Beltane's breath grew short and thick, his strong hand trembled on the bridle, and he grew alternate hot and cold. So rode they into the echoing courtyard whither hasted old G.o.dric to welcome them, and divers servants to take their horses. Being ushered forthwith into the garden, now who so silent and awkward as my Beltane, what time his lady d.u.c.h.ess made known to him her gentle ladies, among whom sweet Genevra, flushed of cheek, gazed breathless upon Giles even as Giles gazed upon her--who so mumchance as Beltane, I say, who saw and heard and was conscious only of one among them all. And who so stately, so calm-voiced and dignified as this one until--aye, until they stood alone together, and then--

To see her sway to his fierce arms, all clinging, yearning womanhood, her state and dignity forgotten quite! To hear her voice soft and low and all a-thrill with love, broken with sighs and sinking to pa.s.sionate-whispered questioning: