The Forest Lovers

by Maurice Hewlett

  CHAPTER XVI

  BOY AND GIRL

  The woodland Mass in the yew-tree glade was served next morning by anacolyte in cassock and cotta. The way of it was this. Alice of theHermitage was setting the altar in the light of a cloudy dawn, when sheheard a step and the rustling of branches behind her. Looking quicklyround, she saw a boy come out of the thicket, who stood echoing herwonder. He was a dark-haired slim lad, in leather jerkin and breeches,had crimson hose on his long legs, on his head a green cap with apheasant's tail-feather in it. The cap he presently took off insalutation. He said his name was Roy. He had a simple direct way ofanswering questions, and such untroubled eyes; he was moreover soplainly a Christian, that when he asked Alice if he might serve theMass she went advocate for him to the priest. So it came about thatIsoult, having breakfasted, lay asleep in Alice's bed when a knightcame cantering into the precinct followed by a page on a cob. Hisgilded armour blazed in the sun, a tall blue plume curtesied over hiscasque. He was so brave a figure--tall and a superb horseman--and soglittering from top to toe, that the old hermit, who came peering outto see, thought him a prince.

  "What may your Highness need of Saint Lucy's poor bedesman?" said thehermit, rubbing his hands together.

  "My Highness needs the whereabouts of a flitted lady," said the knightin a high clear voice.

  Isoult, whom the clatter had awakened, lay like a hare in her form. Atthis time she feared Maulfry more than Galors.

  "Great sir, we have no flitted ladies here. We are very plain folk." Somuch reproof of gilded armour and its appurtenances the hermit venturedon. But the knight was positive.

  "She would have passed this way," he called out. "I know whither shewould go. This hold of yours is dead in her road. So advise, hermit."

  "I will call Alice," said the hermit.

  "Call the devil if he will help you," the other replied.

  Isoult heard Alice go out of the cottage.

  "Child," said the hermit, "this gentleman seeks a flitted lady whoshould have passed by here on her way. Have you seen aught of such anone? Your eyes are better than most."

  There followed a pause, which to the trembler in the bed seemed timefor a death-warrant. Then the quiet voice of Alice told out--

  "I have seen no lady. Wait. I will ask."

  Isoult heard her returning step. When Alice came into the room she sawIsoult standing ready, all of a tremble.

  "Oh, Alice," says she, clinging to her and speaking very fast, "I amthe girl they are hunting. I am not a boy. I have deceived you. If theyfind me they will take me away."

  "Will they kill you?"

  "Ah, no! There is not enough mercy with them for that."

  "Ah, you have done no ill?"

  "I served God this morning. I could not have dared."

  "True. Who is that knight?"

  "I will tell you everything. No man could be so wicked as that knight.It is a woman, desperately wicked. She is in league with a man whowould do the worst with me. Save me! save me! save me!" She began towring her hands, and to blubber, without wits or measure left.

  Alice put her hands on her. "Yes, I will save you. Get into bed and liedown. There is a page with the knight. Do you know him?"

  "Yes, yes. He will do no harm. He is good."

  "Very well. Lie down, and you shall be saved."

  Alice went out again into the open.

  "Sir knight," she was heard to say, "I have asked Roy, who came hitherthis morning early to serve our Mass. He has seen no one."

  "Who is Roy?" said the knight sharply.

  "He was server this morning. He is asleep after a long journey."

  "Where?"

  "Sir, we have little enough room. He is in my own chamber lying on mybed."

  The knight gave a dry laugh.

  "You mean that I may not venture into a lady's chamber, shameface?Well, a boy may go where a boy is, I suppose. Vincent, go and explorethe acolyte."

  "The page may come," said Alice, and watched him go, not withoutinterest, perhaps not without amusement.

  The unconscious Vincent was Isoult's next visitant, stepping brisklyinto the room. He came right up to the bed as in his right and element,a boy dealing with a boy's monkey tricks. One watchful grey eye, thecurve of one rosy cheek peering from the blankets, told him a new story.

  "Oh, Isoult," says he in a twitter, "is it you indeed?"

  "Yes, hush! You will never betray me, Vincent?"

  "Betray!" he cried. "Ah, Saints! My tongue would blister if I let thetruth on you. But you are quite safe. The damsel won't let her in; shethinks she has a man to deal with. Me she let in!" Vincent chuckled atthe irony of the thing. Then he grew anxious over his beloved.

  "You had no mishaps? You are not hurt? Tired?"

  "All safe. Not tired now. What will she do next?"

  "Ah, there! She is for High March. That I know. She means to find youthere. She means mischief. You must take great care. You have neverseen her in mischief. I have. Oh, Christ!" He winced at therecollection.

  "I will go advisedly," said Isoult. "Have no fear for me. I shall bethere before she is."

  Vincent sighed. "I must go. Good-bye, Isoult. I shall see you again, Iam very sure."

  "I hope you will. Good-bye."

  He did not dare so much as touch the bed, but went out at once to makehis report. He had questioned the boy--a dull boy, but he thoughthonest. Assuredly he had seen no lady on his way. His lies deceivedMaulfry, who would have known better but for her proneness to thinkeverybody a fool. Soon Isoult heard the thud of hoofs on the herbage;then Alice came running in to hear the story at large.

  The two girls became very friendly. Their heads got close together overProsper and Galors and Maulfry--the Golden Knight who was a woman! Theescape savoured a miracle, was certainly the act of some heavenlypower. An Archangel, Alice thought, to which Isoult, convinced that itwas Love, assented for courtesy.

  "Though for my part," she added, "I lean hardly upon Saint Isidore."

  "You do well," said Alice, "he is a great saint. Is he your patron?"

  "I think he is," said Isoult.

  "Then it is he who has helped you, be sure. No other could know the insand outs of your story so well, or make such close provision. TheArchangels, you see, are few, and their business very great." Isoultagreed.

  Of Prosper Alice could not get a clear image. When Isoult was upon thattheme her visions blinded her, and sent her for refuge to abstractions.She candidly confessed that he did not love her; but then she did notask that he should.

  "But you pray, 'Give him me all,'" Alice objected.

  "Yes, I want to be his servant, and that he should have no other. Icannot bear that any one should do for him what I can do best. That iswhat I tell the Holy Virgin."

  "And Saint Isidore, I hope," said Alice gently; but Isoult thought not.

  "It would be useless to tell Saint Isidore," she explained.

  "He is a man, and men think differently of these matters. They wantmore, and do not understand to be contented with much less."

  "Forgive me, Isoult. I know nothing of love and lovers. But if youmarry this lord--as I suppose you might?"

  "He might marry _me_," said Isoult slowly.

  "Well, then, is there no more to look for in marriage but the libertyto serve?"

  "I look for nothing else."

  "But he might?"

  "Ah, ah! If he did!"

  "Well?"

  "Oh, Alice, I love him so!"

  "Darling Isoult--I see now. Forgive me."

  The two friends cried together and kissed, as girls will. Then theytalked of what there was to do. Isoult was resolute to go.

  "She will ride straight to High March," she said. "I know her. My lordis there. If she finds not me, she will find him, and endanger hisease. I must be there first. She must follow the paths, however theywind, because she is mounted on a heavy horse. I shall go through thebrakes by ways that I know. I shall easily outwit her in the forest."

  "But you
cannot walk, dearest. It is many days to High March."

  "I shall ride."

  "What will you ride, goose?"

  "A forest pony, of course."

  "Will you go as you are--like a boy, Isoult?"

  Alice was aghast at the possibility; but Isoult, who had many reasonsfor it apart from her own safety (forgotten in the sight of Prosper's),was clear that she would. Prosper she knew was the guest of theCountess Isabel, a vaguely great and crowned lady; probably he was oneof many guests. "And how shall I, a poor girl, come at him in the midstof such a company?" she asked herself. But if she went with a tale ofbeing his page Roy he might admit her to some service, to hand his cup,or just to lie at his door of a night. The real Roy had done more thanthis; he would never refuse her so much. So she thought at least; andat the worst she would have space to tell her message.

  At noon, the forest pony captured and haltered with a rope, shestarted. Alice was tearful, but Isoult, high in affairs, had no time toconsider Alice. She gave her a kiss, stooping from the saddle, thankedher for what she had done on Prosper's account, and flew. She neverlooked back to wave a hand or watch a hand-waving; she was in a feverfor action. Going, she calculated profoundly. There was a choice ofways. The great road from Wanmouth to High March skirted Marbery Down(where she had watched the stars and heard the sheep-bells many a stillnight), and then ran east by the forest edge to Worple. It only took inWorple by a wide divagation; after that it curved back to the forest,ran fairly clean to Market Basing, thence over ridges and coombs, butclimbing mostly, it fetched up at High March. It was a military road.Well, she might follow Maulfry on this road till within a couple ofdays of the castle; it would ensure safety for her, and a good footingfor her beast. On the other hand, if she rode due north over everything(as she knew she could), she would steal at least one more day. Andcould she afford to lose a clear day with Prosper? Ah, and it wouldgive a margin against miscarriage of the news by any adverse fate oneither of them. Before she framed the question she knew it answered.Her road then was to be dead north across the edge of Spurnt Heath(where her father's cottage was), past Martle Brush, stained with theblack blood of Galors, then on to the parting of the ways, and by theright-hand road to High March. Thinking it over, she put her journey atthree, and Maulfry's at four days. Maulfry's was actually rather less,as will appear.

  If all this prove dull to the reader, I can only tell him that he hadbetter know his way about Morgraunt than lose it, as I have very oftendone in the course of my hot-head excursions. There are so manytrackless regions in it, so many great lakes of green with never anisland of a name, that to me, at least, it is salvation to have solidverifiable spots upon which to put a finger and say--"Here is Waisford,here Tortsentier, here is the great river Wan, here by the grace of Godand the Countess of Hauterive is Saint Giles of Holy Thorn." Of courseto Isoult it was different. She had been a forester all her life. Toher there were names (and names of dread) not to be known of any map.Deerleap, One Ash, the Wolves' Valley, the Place of the Withered Elm,the Charcoal-Burners', the Mossy Christ, the Birch-grove, the Brookunder the Brow--and a hundred more. She steered by these, with allforesters. What she did not remember, or did not know, was that Maulfryhad also lived in Morgraunt and knew the ways by heart. Still, she hada better mount than the Lady of Tortsentier, and Love for a link-boy.

  However fast she rode for her mark, her way seemed long enough as shebattled through that shadowed land, forded brooks, stole by the edge ofwastes or swamps, crossed open rides in fear what either vista mightset bare, climbed imperceptibly higher and higher towards the spikes ofHauterive, upon whose woody bluffs stands High March. Not upon onebeast could she have done what she did; one took her a day and a nightgoing at the pace she exacted. She knew by her instincts where theherds of ponies ran. It was easy to catch and halter any one she chose;no forest beast went in fear of her who had the wild-wood savour in herhair--but it meant more contriving and another stretch for her tensebrain. For herself, she hardly dared stay at all. Prosper's breastunder a dagger! If she had stayed she would not have slept. The feverand the fever only kept her up; for a slim and tender girl she wentthrough incredible fatigues. But while the fever lasted so did she,alert, wise, discreet, incessantly active. Part of her journey--for thehalf of one day--she actually had Maulfry in full view; saw her ridingeasily on her great white Fleming, saw the glint of the golden armour,and Vincent ambling behind her on his cob, catching at the leaves as hewent, for lack of something better. She was never made out by them,--ata time like this her wits were finer than her enemy's,--so she was ableto learn how much time she had to spare. That night she slept for threehours. As for her food, we know that she could supply herself withthat; and when the deer failed her, she scrupled nothing (she so abjectwith whom she loved!) to demand it of whomsoever she happened to meet.She grew as bold as a winter robin. One evening she sat by a gipsy firewith as shrewd a set of cut-throats as you would wish to hang. Shenever turned a hair. Another night she fell in with some shaggy droversleading cattle from March into Waisford, and shared the cloak andpillow of one of them without a quiver. Having dozed and startedhalf-a-dozen times in a couple of hours, she got up without disturbingher bed-fellow and took to the woods again. So she came to her lastday, when she looked to see the High March towers and what they held.

  On that day at noon, as she sat resting near a four-went-way, she heardthe tramp of horses, the clatter of arms. She hid herself, just intime, in a thicket of wild rose, and waited to see what wasthreatening. It proved to be a company of soldiers--she counted fifty,but there were more--well armed with spears, whose banneroles wereblack and white. They rode at a trot to the crossways; there one criedhalt. They were within ten yards of her, but happily there were nodogs. Then she heard another horse--that of the captain, as sheguessed. She saw him come round the bend of the ride, a burly man,black upon a black horse. There were white feathers in his helmet; onhis shield three white wicket-gates. Galors! At this moment her heartdid not fail her. It scarcely beat faster. She was able to listen ather ease.

  They debated of ways; Galors seemed in doubt, and vexed at doubting.One of them pointed the road to High March.

  "No, by the Crucified," said Galors, "that is no road for me just yet,who once showed a shaven crown upon it. I leave High March to theGolden Knight for the hour. He shall make my way straight, bless himfor a John Baptist. We are for Wanmeeting, my friends. Wanmeeting, thenGoltres."

  Said another--"Sir, if that road lead to High March, we must gostraight forward to fetch at Wanmeeting."

  So they disputed at large. Isoult made out that Galors had raised acompany of outlaws (no hard job in Morgraunt at any time, and raisedfor her ravishment, if she had known it), and was bound for Goltres,where there was a castle, and a lord of it named Spiridion. She couldfind out little more. Sometimes they spoke of Hauterive town and acastle there, sometimes of Wanmeeting and a high bailiff; but Goltresseemed most in Galors' mind.

  Finally they took the road to Wanmeeting. Isoult waited till the soundof the horses died in the swishing of trees, and then sped forward onher feet towards her lord. She knew she was near by, and would not risktime or discovery by catching her pony. By four in the afternoon shehad her first view of the great castle rising stately out of the blackpines and bright green of the spring foliage, warm grey in the fulllight of the sun, and solid as the rock it was of. In another hour shewas demanding of the porter at the outer bailey Messire Prosper le Gai,in the name of his servant Roy.