The Forest Lovers

by Maurice Hewlett

  CHAPTER V

  LA DESIROUS

  Prosper le Gai--all Morgraunt before him--rose from his bed before theCountess had turned in hers; and long before the Abbot could get alonewith Dom Galors he was sighing for his breakfast. He had, indeed, seenthe dawn come in, caught the first shiver of the trees, the firsttentative chirp of the birds, watched the slow filling of the shadowypools and creeks with the grey tide of light. From brake to brake hestruggled, out of the shade into the dark, thence into what seemed abroad lake of daylight. He met no living thing; or ever the sun kissedthe tree-tops he was hungry. He was well within Morgraunt now, thoughonly, as it might be, upon the hem of its green robe; the adventurousplace opened slowly to him like some great epic whose majesty and forcedawns upon you by degrees not to be marked. It was still twilight inthe place where he was when he heard the battling of birds' wings, thescreaming of one bird's grief, and the angry purr of another, or ofothers. He peered through the bush as the sound swelled. Presently hesaw a white bird come fluttering with a dropt wing, two hen-harriers inclose pursuit. They were over her, upon her, there was a wrangle ofwings--brown and white--even while he watched; then the white got clearagain, and he could see that she bled in the breast. The sound of herscreaming, which was to him like a girl crying, moved him strangely. Hejumped from his saddle, ran to the entangled birds and cuffed the twohawks off; but seeing that they came on again, hunger-bold no doubt, hestrangled them and freed the white pigeon. He took her up in his handsto look at her; she was too far gone for fear; she bled freely, but hejudged she would recover. So she did, after he had washed out thewound; sufficiently at least to hop and flutter into covert. Prospertook to his horse and journey with her voice still ringing in his head.

  In another hour's travel he reached a clearing in the wood, hedged allabout with yew-trees and holm oaks very old; and in the midst of it sawa little stone altar with the figure of a woman upon it. He was not toohungry to be curious, so he dismounted and went to examine. The saintwas Saint Lucy the Martyr, he saw; the altar, hoary as it was withlichen and green moss, had a slab upon it well-polished, with crosseslet into the four corners and into the middle of the stone; there weresockets for tapers, and marks of grease new and thick. Before heapproached it a hind and her calf had been cropping the grass betweenthe cracks of the altar-steps; all else was very still, yet had afeeling of habitancy and familiar use.

  His instinct when he saw an altar being to say his prayers, he kneltdown then and there, facing the image, yet a little remote from it. Avery soft tread behind him broke in upon his exercises; some one wascoming, whence or how he did not then know. The comer was a young girlclothed in a white woollen garment, which was bound about her waistwith a green cord; she was bareheaded; on her feet were thick sandals,bound also with thongs of green. Prosper watched her spread a whitecloth upon the altar-slab, and set a Mass-book upon a stand; he saw hergo and return with two lighted tapers for the sockets, he saw a silvercrucifix shine between them. The girl, when all this business was done,stepped backwards down the steps, and stood at the foot of the altarwith hands clasped upon her bosom and head bent lowly. "By the Saints,"thought Prosper, "Morgraunt is a holy place, it seems. There is to be aMass."

  So it was. An old priest came out of the thicket in a vestment ofyellow and gold thread, bearing in his hands the Sacrament under agreen silk veil. The girl knelt down as he passed up the steps; hebegan his Mass, but in so low a voice that it hardly touched the forestpeace.

  Rabbits came creeping out of bush and bracken, a wood-dove began hermoan, two or three deer stood up. Then Prosper thought--"If the beastscome to prayers, it behoves me as a Christian man to hear Mass also.Moreover, it were fitting that adventure should begin in that manner,to be undertaken in the name of our Lord Jesus Christ." He went forwardaccordingly, flush with the girl, and knelt down by her. When it wasthe time of Communion, both drew nearer and received Christ's body.Prosper, for his part, did not forget the soul of the dead man, DeGenlis or another, whose body he had buried in Cadnam Wood, butcommended it to God together with the sacrifice of the altar. The womancame into his mind. "No, by God," thought he; "she is the devil, or ofhim; I will never pray for her," which was Prosper all over.

  Mass done, he remembered that he had the honour to be uncommonlyhungry. The priest had gone back into the wood, the girl was removingthe altar furniture, and seemed unconscious of his presence; butProsper could not afford that.

  "My young gentlewoman," he said with a bow, "you will see before you,if you turn your head, a very hungry man."

  "Are you hungry, sir?" she said, looking and smiling at him, "then inthree minutes you shall be filled." Whereupon she went away with herload, and quickly returned with another more to Prosper's mind. Shegave him bread and hot milk in a great bowl, she gave him a dishful ofwild raspberries, and waited on him herself in the prettiest manner.Without word said she watered his horse for him; and all the while shetalked to him, but of nothing in the world but the birds and beasts,the falling of the leaf, and the thousand little haps and chances ofher quiet life. Prosper suited his conversation to her book. He toldher of the white bird's rescue, and she opened her blue eyes in wonder.

  "Why, I dreamed of it last night," she said very solemnly.

  "You dreamed of it, Alice?" he echoed. She was called, she had toldhim, Alice of the Hermitage.

  "Yes, yes. A white bird and two hen-harriers. Ah, and there was more.You have not yet done all. You have not yet begun!" She was full of thething.

  "By my faith, I have wrung the necks of the pair of them," saidProsper. "I know not how they can expect more of me than that."

  "Listen," said Alice of the Hermitage, "the bird will be again chased,again wounded. Morgraunt is full of hawks. You will see her again. Mydream was very precise. You will see her again; but this time the chasewill be long, and achievement only at the peril of your own honour. Butit seems that you shall win in the end what you have thought to havewon already, and the wound in the breast will be staunched."

  "Hum," said Prosper. "Now you shall tell me what I ought to do, how Iought to begin. For you know the saw--'The sooner begun, the soonerdone.'"

  "Oh, sir,". cries she, "you shall ride forward in the name of God,remembering your manhood and the vows you made when you took up yourarms." She blushed as she spoke, kindling with her thoughts.

  "I will do that," said Prosper, kindled in his turn. And so he lefther, and travelled all day towards Malbank Saint Thorn. He lay at nightin the open wood, not far, as he judged, from Spurnt Heath, upon whosewesternmost border ran Wan; there, or near by, he looked to find theAbbey.

  He spent the night at least better than did Dom Galors, whose thoughtsturned equally to Spurnt Heath. That strenuous man had taken theAbbot's counsel to bed with him, a restless partner. An inordinatepartner also it proved to be, not content to keep the monk awake.Turning every traffic of his mind to its own advantage, it shook outthe bright pinions of adventure over the dim corridors of Holy Thorn,and with every pulse of the ordering bell came a reiteration of itsurgency. All night long, through all the task work of the next morning,the thought was with him--"By means of this woman I may be free. Free!"he cried. "I may be set up on high through her. Lord of this land andpatron of Holy Thorn; a maker and unmaker of abbots to whom now I mustbow my knees. Is it nothing to be master of a lovely wife? Ha, is itnothing to rule a broad fee? A small thing to have abbots kiss myhands? Lord of the earth! is this not worth a broken vow, which in anycase I have broken before? Oh, Isoult la Desirous, if I desired youbefore when you went torn and shamefaced through the mire, what shall Isay to you going in silk, in a litter, with a crown, Isoult laDesiree!" He called her name over and over, Isoult la Desiree, laMoult-Desiree, and felt his head spinning.

  Matins, Lauds, and Prime, he endured this obsession. The day's roundwas filled with the amazing image of a crowned, hollow-eyed, tatteredlittle drab, the mock and wonder of throngs of witnesses, appreciableonly by himself as a pearl of priceless value. The heire
ss ofMorgraunt, the young Countess of Hauterive, La Desirous, La Desiree.Desirable she had been before, but dealing no smarter scald than couldbe drowned in the well of love which for him she might have been for anhour. But now his burn glowed; the Abbot had blown it red. Ambition wasalight; he was the brazier. It danced in him like a leaping flame.Certainly Prosper slept better on his side of Spurnt Heath.

  At dusk the monk could bear himself and his burden of knowledge nolonger. He went to look for Isoult on the heath in a known haunt ofhers. He found her without trouble, sitting below the Abbot's newgallows. She was a girl, childishly formed, thin as a haggard-hawk,with a white resentful face, and a pair of startled eyes which, reallygrey, had a look of black as the pupil swam over the iris. The ragswhich served her for raiment covered her but ill; her legs were bare,she was without head-covering; all about her face her black hair fellin shrouds. She sat quite still where she was, with her elbows on herknees, and chin between her two hands, gazing before her over theheath. Above her head two thieves, first-fruits of the famous charter,creaked as they swung in their chains. If Isoult saw Galors coming, shemade no effort to escape him; when her eyes met his her brooding stareheld its spell.

  The monk drew near, stood before her, and said--"Isoult la Desirous,you shall come with me into the quarry, for I have much to say to you."

  "Let it be said here," she replied, without moving. But heanswered--"Nay, you shall come with me into the quarry."

  "I am dead tired. Can you not let me be, Dom Galors?"

  "I have what will freshen you, Isoult. Come with me."

  "If I must, I must."

  Then he led her away, and she went tamely enough to the quarry.

  There he took her by both her hands, and so held her, waiting till sheshould be forced to look up at him. When at last, sick and sullen, sheraised her eyes, he could hardly contain himself. But he did.

  "What were you doing by the Abbot's new gallows, Isoult?"

  "I would rather be there now than here. The company is more to myliking."

  "You may be near enough by to-morrow, if what I have learned be true."

  The girl's eyes grew larger and darker. "Are they going to hang me?"she asked.

  "Are you not a witch?"

  "It is said."

  "Your mother Mald is a witch--eh?"

  "Yes, she is a witch."

  "And are not you? You know Deerleap--eh?"

  "It is said that I do."

  "And you know what must be done to witches."

  "They will hang me, Dom Galors! Will they hang me by Cutlaw andRogerson?"

  "There is room for you there."

  "What can they prove?"

  "Pshaw! Is proof needed? Are you not a baggage?"

  "I know not."

  "A wanton?"

  "Ah, you should know that!"

  "If it depended upon me, Isoult, I could save you. But the Abbot meansto make an example and set a terror up before the evil-doers in thiswalk of Morgraunt. What am I before the Abbot, or what is my love foryou to be brought to his ears? It is doom more certain still, my dear."

  "Then I shall be hanged."

  "Listen to me now, Isoult. Listen close. No, leave your hands wherethey are; they are safer there than elsewhere. So leave them and listenclose. No soul in Malbank but myself and the Lord Abbot knows of what Ihave told you now. Me he told this morning. Judge if that was good newsfor your lover's ear!"

  Isoult shivered and hung her head. Galors went on--"At the risk ofeverything a monk should fear, and of everything, by God, that such amonk as I am should care to win, I contended with my spiritual father.Spare me the particulars; I got some shrewd knocks over it, but I didwin this much. You are to be hanged to-morrow, Isoult, or noosed inanother way. A ring is to play a part. You shall be bride of the treeor a man's bride. I won this, and left the Abbot chuckling, for much ashe knows he has not guessed that the goose-girl, the tossed-outkitchen-girl, the scarecrow haunter of the heath, should be sought inmarriage. But I knew more than he; and now," he said, stooping over thebent girl,--"and now, Isoult la Desirous, come with me!"

  He tried to draw her towards him, but she trembled in his hands so muchthat he had to give over. He began his arguments again, reasoned,entreated, threatened, cajoled; he could not contain himself now, beingso near fruition. The spell of the forest was upon him. "Let Love bethe master," he said, "for there is no gainsaying him, nor can cloisterwalls bar his way; but his flamy wings top even these. Ah, Isoult!" hecried out in his passion; "ah, Isoult la Desiree, come, lest I die oflove and you of the tree."

  The girl, who feared him much more than the death he had declared, waswhite now and desperate. But she still held him off with her stiffenedarms and face averted. She tried to cheapen herself. "I am Matt's baddaughter, I am Matt's bad daughter! All the tithing holds me in scorn.Never speak of love to such as I am, Galors." And when he tried to pullher she made herself rigid as a rod, and would not go.

  So love made the man mad, and spread and possessed him. Contest goadedGalors: action was his meat and dominion what he breathed; by resistingshe had made the end more sure. By her imprisoned wrists he drew herin, and when she was so close that her head was almost upon his breast,he breathed over her. "A mitred abbey have I trampled down for yourlove; yes, and to be bishop of a see. Therefore you must come."

  She fell to whining and entreaty, white to the lips and dry with fear.All that she could say was, "I am bad. I am bad, but not so bad! Neverruin me, Dom Galors." Then it was that she heard the voice of Prospersinging afar off on the heath. Prosper sang--

  "What if my metalBe proved as high as a hawk's in good fettle! Then you shall see The world my fee, And the hearts of men for my Seigniory."

  And the girl thought to herself, "Help cometh!" and changed the voiceof her grief and the beating of her heart. By this the guile a womanhas always by her tongue had play: she could talk more gently to hergaoler, and beg a little time--a short hour or so--to plan and arrangetheir affairs. He thought her won and grew very tender; he kissed herhands many times, called her his dear heart, became, in a word, theclumsy gallant he claimed to be. All this too she endured: she began togabble at random, sprightly as a minion, with all the shifts of a girlin a strait place ready at command. Her fear was double now: she mustlearn the trend of the singer and his horse, and prevent Galors fromhearing either. This much she did. The sound came steadily on. Sheheard the horse's hoofs strike on a flint outside the quarry, she heardProsper, singing softly to himself. Her time had come. She sprang atarm's-length from Galors and called out, "Help, for charity!" with allher might.

  Prosper started, drew his sword, and headed his horse for the quarry.In the mouth of it he reined up to look about him. He was sure of hisdirection, but not of his way, "Help is here!" he cried with his swordon high and red plumes nodding. Air and the light of the sun seemed tofollow him, as if he had cut a slit in a shroud and let in the day.Then it was that Isoult found strength to shake free from her enemy, torun to Prosper, to clasp his knee, to babble broken words, entreatiesfor salvation, and to stoop to his foot and kiss it.

  "What is all this about, my child?" asked Prosper wondering.

  "Oh" cried the girl, "my lord! the monk seeks to do me a wrong, and ashame greater than all!"

  Prosper looked deeper into the quarry. There he saw Galors, the whitemonk, who stood fixed, biting his nails keenly there. Then he laughed,saying, "I cannot fight a monk," and sheathed his sword. He did notlove monks, none of his house did. He had seen the new gallows, couldmeasure the build of the fellow in the quarry; and though he could notplumb the girl's soul through her misty eyes, he could read her shakinglips and clinging hands; he could see, and be shocked to see, how youngshe was to be acquainted with grief, and with sin how likely familiar.The hint of the thing revolted him; he dared not leave her there.

  "See here, child," said he, "I will set you before me, and we will ridetogether for a while. Perhaps the evening chills will temper the monk;but if not, I am to
lodge at his abbey this night, and may prepare thatfor him which will cool him. Will you come up to me?"

  The ghost of a smile hovered over her white drawn face for a minute. "Iwill go where you will take me, my lord," said she.

  "Come up with you then," he replied. He stooped there and then, tookher below the arms, and lightly swung her into the saddle before him.There she sat, modern fashion, with his sword arm for her stay. "Ishould like to read that hulk a lesson," said her protector wistfully,"but I doubt he will have it before night. Oh, let him hang!" So heturned and rode out of the quarry on to the heath.

  Galors stood a long time in the place where they left him, drawingblood from his bitten fingers. Darkness gathered fast with a storm ofwind and rain. Nevertheless he stayed on; and night came down to findhim still there.