The Forest Lovers

by Maurice Hewlett

  CHAPTER XXIV

  SECRET THINGS AT HAUTERIVE

  The first thing the old lady did was to go to an oak chest which was inthe room, and rummage there. With many grunts and wheezes (for she waseaten with rheumatism) she drew out a bundle done up in an old shawl.This she opened upon the floor.

  "I belonged to a great lady once," said she, "though I don't look likeit, my dear. These fal-lals have been over as dainty a body as your ownin their day; and that was fifteen years ago to a tick. She gave 'emall to me when she took to the black, and now they shall go to my son'swife. Think of that, you who come from who knows who or where. If theyfit you not like a glove, let me eat 'em."

  There were silks and damasks and brocades; webbed tissues of the East,Coaen gauzes blue and green, Damascus purples, shot gold from Samarcand,crimson stuffs dipped in Syrian vats, rose-coloured silk fromTrebizond, and embroidered jackets which smelt of Cairo or Bagdad, andglowed with the hues of Byzantium itself. Out of these she made choice.The girl shed her rags, and stood up at last in a gown of thin redsilk, which from throat to ankle clung close about her shape. The darkbeauty went imperially robed.

  "Wait a bit," said her dresser; "we'll look at you presently when youare shod and coifed to fit."

  She gave her a pair of red stockings and Moorish slippers for her feet;she massed up her black hair into a tower upon her head, and roped itabout with a chain of sequins which had served their last chaffer atVenice; she girt a belt of filigree gold and turquoise about her waist,gave her a finishing pat, and stood out to spy at her.

  "Eh, eh! there you go for a jolly gentlewoman," she chuckled, andkissed her. "Give you a pair of sloe-black eyes for your violets, tipyour nails with henna red, and you'd be a mate for the Soldan ofBabylon in his glory. As you stand you're my bonny Countess Bel warmedin the blood--as she might have been if Bartlemy had had no vigil thatone year."

  They sat to table and ate together. The old dame grew very friendly,and, as usual with her class, showed a spice of malice.

  "There is one here, let me tell you," she said as she munched herbacon, "even the lord of this town, who would be glad to know his wayto Litany Row before morning." Isoult paled and watched her unconscioushost; she knew that much already. "Yes, yes," she went on, the oldruminant, "he hath a rare twist for women, if they speak the truth whoknow him. There is one he hath hunted high and low, in forest and out,they say, and hath made himself a lord for her sake, whereas he was buta stalled ox in Malbank cloister. He hath made himself a lord, andkilled his hundreds of honest men, and now he hath lost her. He--he!"

  The good woman chuckled at her thoughts over all this irony of events.

  "I might do son Falve a sorry turn," she pursued, "if I would. I shouldget paid for it in minted money, and Saint Mary knows how little ofthat has come my way of late. And I dare say that you would not takethe exchange for a robbery. A lord for a smutty collier." She lookedslyly at Isoult as she spoke. The girl's eyes wide with fear made herchange her tune. If the daughter-elect were loyal, loyalty beseemed themother.

  "What!" she quavered, "you are all for love and the man of your heartthen? Well, well! I like you for it, child."

  Isoult's heart began to knock at her ribs. "Can I trust her? Can Itrust her?" she thought; and her heart beat back, "Trust her, trusther, trust her."

  With bed-time came her chance. The old woman, whose geniality neverendangered her shrewdness, bid the girl undress and get into bed first.The meek beauty obeyed. She was undressed, but not in bed, when therecame a rain of knocks at the door.

  "Slip into bed, child, slip into bed," cried the other; "that's a manat the door."

  Isoult, half-dead with fright, once more obeyed. The knocking continuedtill the door was opened.

  "Who are you, in the name of Jesus?" said the woman, trembling.

  "Jesus be my witness, I come in His name. I am Brother Bonaccord," saida man without.

  "Save you, father," the woman replied, "but you cannot come in thisnight. There's a naked maid in the room."

  Isoult's plight was pitiable. She could do absolutely nothing but staywhere she was. She dared not so much as cry out.

  "If she is a maid, it is very well," said Brother Bonaccord; "but I amquite sure she is not."

  "Heyday, what is this?" cried Falve's mother, highly scandalized.

  "Listen to me, Dame Ursula," the friar went on with a wagging finger."Your son came with gossip of a marriage he was to make with a certainIsoult--"

  "'Tis so, 'tis so, indeed, father. Isoult la Desirous is her name--amost sweet maid."

  "No maiden at all, good woman, but a wife of my own making."

  "Ah, joys of Mary, what is this?"

  "Ask her, mistress, ask her."

  "I shall ask her, never you fear. Stay you there, father, for yourlife."

  "Trust me, ma'am."

  Dame Ursula went straight up to the bed and whipped off the blankets.There cowered the girl.

  "Tell me the sober truth by all the pains of _Dies Irae_," whisperedher hostess. "Are you a maiden or none?"

  It was a shrewd torment that, double-forked. To deny was infamy, toaffirm ruin. However, there was no escape from it: Isoult had neverbeen a learned liar.

  "I am a maid, ma'am," she said in a whisper.

  "Cover yourself warm, my lamb, I'll twist him," said the delightedmother. She went quickly to the door.

  "May our lord the holy Pope of Rome find you mercy, father," she vowed,"but you'll find none here. The girl has testified against you. Nowwill you marry 'em?"

  "That I will not, by our Lord," replied the friar.

  "There's infamy abroad, and I'll leave it, for it's none of my making.I wish you good-night, mistress. Bid your son to the Black Brothers.Saint Dominic may deal with him. Saint Francis was a clean man, and somust we be clean."

  "Then get ye clean tongues lest ye lick others foul, ye brown viper,"screamed Mrs. Ursula, as he splashed down the kennel.

  Isoult was desperate; but luck pointed her one road yet. You willremember the trinkets round her neck: Prosper's ring was one, the otherwas that which old Mald had felt for and found safe in her bosom on herwedding night. When, therefore, Mrs. Ursula came bridling into thelight full of her recent victory, she saw the girl before hertrembling, and holding out a gold chain at a stretch.

  "Lord's name, child, you'll catch your death," cried she. "Slip on yournight-gown and into the bed."

  "Trust her now, trust her now," went Isoult's wild heart. "Not yet,mother," said she, "you must hear me now."

  Ursula dropped into a chair. Isoult knelt before her and put the ringin her old hand.

  "Mother, look at this ring," she began, out of breath already, "andlook at me, and then let me go. For with this ring I was wed a year agoto a certain lord whom I love dearly, and to whom I have never yet comeas a wife. So what I told you was true, and what the Grey Friar toldyou was true also, when he said that I was a wife of his wedding. Hewed me to my lord sure and fast to save me from a hanging; but not forlove of me was I taken by my husband, and not for desire of his to matehis soul to mine. But for love of the love I bore him I dared not lethim come, even when he would have come. We have been a year wedded, andmany days and nights we have wandered the forest and dwelt togetherhere and there, until now by some fate we are put apart. But I know weshall come together again, and he whom I love so bitterly shall set thering in its place again where he first put it, and himself lie wherenow it lies. And so the wound and the pain I have shall be at lastassuaged, and, Love, who had struck me so deep, shall crown me."

  So said Isoult, kneeling and crying. Whatever else she may have touchedin her who listened, she touched her curiosity. The old woman droppedthe ring to look at the girl. True enough, below her left breast therewas a small red wound, and upon it a drop of fresh blood.

  Mrs. Ursula took the wet face between her two chapped hands and laughedat it, not unkindly.

  "My bonny lass," said she, "if this be all thou hast to tell me it willnot stay my so
n Falve. Here in this forest we think little of thegiving of rings, but much of what should follow it. But thy weddingstopped at the ringing, from what I can learn. That is no wedding atall. Doubt not this knight of thine will never return; they never doreturn, my lassie. Neither doubt but that Falve will wed thee fasterthan any ring can do. And as for thy scratch and crying heart, mychild, trust Falve again to stanch the one and still the other. Forthat is a man's way. And now get into bed, child; it grows late."

  There was nothing for it but to obey. Her game had been played and hadfailed. She got into bed and Ursula followed.

  Then as she lay there quaking, crying quietly to herself, her heart'smessage went on that bid her trust. Trust! What could she trust? Thethought shaped itself and grew clearer every minute; the answer pealedin her brain. The token! she recalled her mother's words, the onlywords she had spoken on her marriage night. "It shall not fail thee towhomsoever thou shalt show it."

  "Help, Saint Isidore!" she breathed, and sat up in the bed.

  This made the old woman very cross.

  "Drat the girl," she muttered, "why don't she sleep while she can?"

  Isoult leaned over her and put the token in her hand. "Look also atthis token, mother, before we sleep," she said.

  Mrs. Ursula, grumbling and only half awake, took the thing in one handand hoisted herself with the other. She sat up, peered at it in thelight of the cresset, dropped it to rub her eyes, fumbled for it again,and peered again; she whispered prayers to herself and adjurations,called on Christ and Christ's mother, vehemently crossed herself manytimes, scrambled out of bed, and plumped down beside it on her twoknees.

  "Mild Mary," she quavered, "mild Mary, that is enough! That I shouldlive to see this day. Oh, saints in glory! Let us look at it again."

  Isoult drooped over the edge of the bed; Ursula looked and wasastounded, she wondered and prayed, she laughed and cried. Isoult grewfrightened.

  "Wed her!" cried the old dame in ecstasy. "Wed the Queen of Shebanext!" Then she grew mighty serious. She got up and dropped a curtesy.

  "It is enough, Princess. He dare not look at you again. At dawn youshall leave this place. Now sleep easy, for if I hurt a hair of yourhead I might never hope for heaven's gate."

  She made the girl sleep alone.

  "This is my proper station before you, madam," said she, and lay downon the floor at the foot of the bed.

  It was no dream. In the morning she was up before the light. Isoultfound a bath prepared, and in her gaoler of over-night a dresser whowas as brisk as a bee and as humble as a spaniel.

  "Old servants are the best," said the crone in her defence; "they'renot so slippery, but they know how things should go on and off. Ah, andgive me a young mistress and a beauty," she went on to sigh, "such asGod Almighty hath sent me this night."

  Either Saint Isidore had entered the token, or the token had beenswallowed by Saint Isidore.

  When the girl was dressed in her red silk gown of the night before,with a hood of the same for her head, her red stockings and her redshoes, she was set at table, and waited upon hand and foot. Noquestions were asked, but very much was taken for granted. Ursula hadher finger to her lip every sentence; she wallowed in mystery.

  "You are not safe here, Princess," she whispered, "but I will put youwhere only safety is for the moment--in Mid-Morgraunt. Affairs, as youknow, are not well where they should be; but as soon as you arebestowed, I will go forth with that which will make them as bright asday. I will see one I never thought to face again; I shall win honourwhich God knows I am late a-winning. Leave everything to me."

  Isoult asked nothing better, for the very sufficient reason that sheknew nothing. Her earth-born habit of taking all things as they came inorder stood her in good part; she had no temptation to ask what allthis meant. But she did not forget to thank the great Saint Isidorelatent in the crystal.

  Everything being ready, the old woman threw a long brown cloak over hercharge before they ventured out into the still twilight streets. Thewet was steaming off the ground, but the day promised fair. Hauterivewas nearly empty: they were not challenged at the gate, met nobodyterrific. Once outside the walls they descended a sharp incline, struckalmost immediately a forest path, and in half-an-hour from that weredeep in the dewy woods. Old Ursula held on briskly for a mile or so inand out of fern and brake. Then she stopped, out of breath, but beamingbenevolence and humility.

  "We are safe enough now, madam," she said, and went on to explain,"Hold you by that path, Princess, until beech and holly end and oaksbegin. Follow the dip of the land, you will come to Thornyhold Brush;with those you find there you may stay until you know who shall sendfor you. That may be likely a week or more, for I am not so young as Iwould be, and the roads are thick with Galordians. Now kiss me quicklyif you will stoop so low: it is the last time I shall ask it of you."

  Isoult thanked her with sparkling eyes and warm red lips; then shestood alone in the wood watching her old friend go. Afterwards sheherself took to the path, wondering, but light-hearted and minded torun.

  The spruce Falve, curled and anointed for the bridal, found no wife,but his mother, who called him a fool, a knave, a notorious evil-liverand contemner of holy persons. This was hard to bear, for part of it atleast he knew to be quite true. What was harder was, that hitherto hehad always believed his mother of his party. But there is no pietistlike your reformed rake; so Falve left the huckster's shop vowingvengeance. The day was July 18, and all the town astir, for Galors deBorn and his riders were just in from a raid.