"You? singly?" the Queen demanded.
"My plan is this: Singing folk alone travel whither they will. We willgo as jongleurs, then. I can yet manage a song to the viol, I dareaffirm. And you must pass as my wife."
He said this with a very curious simplicity. The plan seemedunreasonable, and at first Dame Alianora waved it aside. Out of thequestion! But reflection suggested nothing better; it was impossible toremain at Longaville, and the man spoke sober truth when he declared anyescort other than himself to be unprocurable. Besides, the lunar madnessof the scheme was its strength; that the Queen would venture to crosshalf England unprotected--and Messire Heleigh on the face of him was apaste-board buckler,--was an event which Leicester would neitheranticipate nor on report credit. There you were! these English had noimagination. The Queen snapped her fingers and said: "Very willinglywill I be your wife, my Osmund. But how do I know that I can trust you?Leicester would give a deal for me,--any price in reason for theSorceress of Provence. And you are not wealthy, I suspect."
"You may trust me, mon bel esper"--his eyes here were those of a beatenchild,--"since my memory is better than yours." Messire Osmund Heleighgathered his papers into a neat pile. "This room is mine. To-night Ikeep guard in the corridor, madame. We will start at dawn."
When he had gone, Dame Alianora laughed contentedly. "Mon bel esper! myfairest hope! The man called me that in his verses--thirty years ago!Yes, I may trust you, my poor Osmund."
So they set out at cockcrow. He had procured a viol and a long falchionfor himself, and had somewhere got suitable clothes for the Queen; and intheir aging but decent garb the two approached near enough to thesimilitude of what they desired to be esteemed. In the courtyard a knotof servants gaped, nudged one another, but openly said nothing. MessireHeleigh, as they interpreted it, was brazening out an affair of gallantrybefore the countryside; and they appeared to consider his casualobservation that they would find a couple of dead men on the commonexceedingly diverting.
When the Queen asked him the same morning: "And what will you sing, myOsmund? Shall we begin with the Sestina of Spring"? Osmund Heleighgrunted.
"I have forgotten that rubbish long ago. _Omnis amans, amens_, saith thesatirist of Rome town, and with some show of reason."
Followed silence.
One sees them thus trudging the brown, naked plains under a sky of steel.In a pageant the woman, full-veined and comely, her russet gown girded uplike a harvester's, might not inaptly have prefigured October; and forless comfortable November you could nowhere have found a symbol moreprecise than her lank companion, humorously peevish under his whitethatch of hair, and so constantly fretted by the sword tapping at hisankles.
They made Hurlburt prosperously and found it vacant, for the news ofFalmouth's advance had driven the villagers hillward. There was in thisplace a child, a naked boy of some two years, lying on a doorstep,overlooked in their gross terror. As the Queen with a sob lifted thisboy the child died.
"Starved!" said Osmund Heleigh; "and within a stone's-throw of my snughome!"
The Queen laid down the tiny corpse, and, stooping, lightly caressed itssparse flaxen hair. She answered nothing, though her lips moved.
Past Vachel, scene of a recent skirmish, with many dead in the gutters,they were overtaken by Falmouth himself, and stood at the roadside toafford his troop passage. The Marquess, as he went by, flung the Queen acoin, with a jest sufficiently high-flavored. She knew the man herinveterate enemy, knew that on recognition he would have killed her as hewould a wolf; she smiled at him and dropped a curtsey.
"THEY WERE OVERTAKEN BY FALMOUTH HIMSELF" _Painting byHoward Pyle_]
"That is very remarkable," Messire Heleigh observed. "I was hideouslyafraid, and am yet shaking. But you, madame, laughed."
The Queen replied: "I laughed because I know that some day I shall haveLord Falmouth's head. It will be very sweet to see it roll in the dust,my Osmund."
Messire Heleigh somewhat dryly observed that tastes differed.
At Jessop Minor a more threatening adventure befell. Seeking food at the_Cat and Hautbois_ in that village, they blundered upon the same troop atdinner in the square about the inn. Falmouth and his lieutenants weresomewhere inside the house. The men greeted the supposed purveyors ofamusement with a shout; and one among them--a swarthy rascal with hishead tied in a napkin--demanded that the jongleurs grace their meal witha song.
At first Osmund put him off with a tale of a broken viol.
But, "Haro!" the fellow blustered; "by blood and by nails! you will singmore sweetly with a broken viol than with a broken head. I would haveyou understand, you hedge-thief, that we gentlemen of the sword are notpartial to wordy argument." Messire Heleigh fluttered inefficient handsas the men-at-arms gathered about them, scenting some genial piece ofcruelty. "Oh, you rabbit!" the trooper jeered, and caught him by thethroat, shaking him. In the act this rascal tore open Messire Heleigh'stunic, disclosing a thin chain about his neck and a small locket, whichthe fellow wrested from its fastening. "Ahoi!" he continued. "Ahoi, mycomrades, what species of minstrel is this, who goes about England allhung with gold like a Cathedral Virgin! He and his sweetheart"--theactual word was grosser--"will be none the worse for an interview withthe Marquess."
The situation smacked of awkwardness, for Lord Falmouth was familiar withthe Queen, and to be brought specifically to his attention meant deathfor two detected masqueraders. Hastily Osmund Heleigh said:
"Messire, the locket contains the portrait of a lady whom in youth Iloved very greatly. Save to me, it is valueless. I pray you, do not robme of it."
But the trooper shook his head with drunken solemnity. "I do not likethe looks of this. Yet I will sell it to you, as the saying is, for asong."
"It shall be the king of songs," said Osmund--"the song that ArnautDaniel first made. I will sing for you a Sestina, messieurs--a Sestinain salutation of Spring."
The men disposed themselves about the dying grass, and presently he sang.
Sang Messire Heleigh:
"_Awaken! for the servitors of Spring Marshal his triumph! ah, make haste to see With what tempestuous pageantry they bring Mirth back to earth! hasten, for this is he That cast out Winter and the woes that cling To Winter's garments, and bade April be!_
"_And now that Spring is master, let us be Content, and laugh as anciently in Spring The battle-wearied Tristan laughed, when he Was come again Tintagel-ward--to bring Glad news of Arthur's victory and see Ysoude, with parted lips, that waver and cling._
"_Anon in Brittany must Tristan cling To this or that sad memory, and be Alone, as she in Cornwall, for in Spring Love sows, and lovers reap anon--and he Is blind, and scatters baleful seed that bring Such fruitage as blind Love lacks eyes to see!_"
Osmund paused here for an appreciable interval, staring at the Queen.You saw his flabby throat a-quiver, his eyes melting, saw his cheekskindle, and youth ebb back into the lean man like water over a crumblingdam. His voice was now big and desirous.
Sang Messire Heleigh:
"_Love sows, and lovers reap; and ye will see The loved eyes lighten, feel the loved lips cling Never again when in the grave ye be Incurious of your happiness in Spring, And get no grace of Love there, whither he That bartered life for love no love may bring._
"_Here Death is;--and no Heracles may bring Alcestis hence, nor here may Roland see The eyes of Aude, nor here the wakening spring Vex any man with memory, for there be No memories that cling as cerements cling, No Love that baffles Death, more strong than he._
"_Us hath he noted, and for us hath he An how appointed, and that hour will bring Oblivion.--Then, laugh! Laugh, love, and see The tyrant mocked, what time our bosoms cling, What time our lips are red, what time we be Exultant in our little hour of spring!_
"_Thus in the spring we mock at Death, though he Will see our children perish and will bring Asunder all that clin
g while love may be._"
Then Osmund put the viol aside and sat quite silent. The soldieryjudged, and with cordial frankness stated, that the difficulty of hisrhyming scheme did not atone for his lack of indecency, but when theQueen of England went among them with Messire Heleigh's hat she foundthem liberal. Even the fellow with the broken head admitted that abargain was proverbially a bargain, and returned the locket with theaddition of a coin. So for the present these two went safe, and quittedthe _Cat and Hautbois_ both fed and unmolested.
"My Osmund," Dame Alianora said, presently, "your memory is better than Ihad thought."
"I remembered a boy and a girl," he returned. "And I grieved that theywere dead."
Afterward they plodded on toward Bowater, and the ensuing night rested inChantrell Wood. They had the good-fortune there to encounter dry andwindless weather and a sufficiency of brushwood, with which Osmundconstructed an agreeable fire. In its glow these two sat, eating breadand cheese.
But talk languished at the outset. The Queen had complained of an ague,and Messire Heleigh was sedately suggesting three spiders hung about theneck as an infallible corrective for this ailment, when Dame Alianorarose to her feet.
"Eh, my God!" she said; "I am wearied of such ungracious aid! Not aninch of the way but you have been thinking of your filthy books andlonging to be back at them! No; I except the moments when you werefrightened into forgetfulness--first by Falmouth, then by the trooper. OEternal Father! fraid of a single dirty soldier!"
"Indeed, I was very much afraid," said Messire Heleigh, with perfectsimplicity; "_timidus perire_, madame."
"You have not even the grace to be ashamed! Yet I am shamed, messire,that Osmund Heleigh should have become the book-muddled pedant you are.For I loved him--do you understand?--I loved young Osmund Heleigh."
He also had risen in the firelight, and now its convulsive shadows marredtwo dogged faces. "I think it best not to recall that boy and girl whoare so long dead. And, frankly, madame and Queen, the merit of thebusiness I have in hand is questionable. It is you who have set allEngland by the ears, and I am guiding you toward opportunities forfurther mischief. I must serve you. Understand, madame, that ancientfolly in Provence yonder has nothing to do with the affair. Rememberthat I cry _nihil ad Andromachen_! I must serve you because you are awoman and helpless; yet I cannot forget that he who spares the wolf isthe sheep's murderer. It would be better for all England if you weredead. Hey, your gorgeous follies, madame! Silver peacocks set withsapphires! Cloth of fine gold--"
"Would you have me go unclothed?" Dame Alianora demanded, pettishly.
"Not so," Osmund retorted; "again I say to you with Tertullian, 'Letwomen paint their eyes with the tints of chastity, insert into their earsthe Word of God, tie the yoke of Christ about their necks, and adorntheir whole person with the silk of sanctity and the damask of devotion.'And I say to you--"
But Dame Alianora was yawning quite frankly. "You will say to me that Ibrought foreigners into England, that I misguided the King, that Istirred up strife between the King and his barons. Eh, my God! I amsufficiently familiar with the harangue. Yet listen, my Osmund: Theysold me like a bullock to a man I had never seen. I found him a man ofwax, and I remoulded him. They gave me England as a toy; I played withit. I was the Queen, the source of honor, the source of wealth--thetrough, in effect, about which swine gathered. Never in all my Englishlife, Osmund, has man or woman loved me; never in all my English lifehave I loved man or woman. Do you understand, my Osmund?--the Queen hasmany flatterers, but no friends. Not a friend in the world, my Osmund!And so the Queen makes the best of it and amuses herself."
Somewhat he seemed to understand, for he answered without asperity:
"Mon bel esper, I do not find it anywhere in Holy Writ that God requiresit of us to amuse ourselves; but upon many occasions we have beencommanded to live righteously. We are tempted in divers and insidiousways. And we cry with the Psalmist, 'My strength is dried up like apotsherd.' But God intends this, since, until we have here demonstratedour valor upon Satan, we are manifestly unworthy to be enregistered inHis army. The great Captain must be served by proven soldiers. We maybe tempted, but we may not yield, O daughter of the South! we may notyield!" he cried, with an unheralded, odd wildness.
"Again you preach," Dame Alianora said. "That is a venerable truism."
"Ho, madame," he returned, "is it on that account the less true?"
Pensively the Queen considered this. "You are a good man, my Osmund,"she said at last, with a fine irrelevance, "though you are very droll.Ohime! it is a pity that I was born a princess! Had it been possible forme to be your wife, I would have been a better woman. I shall sleep nowand dream of that good and stupid and contented woman I might have been."So presently these two slept in Chantrell Wood.
Followed four days of journeying. As Messer Dante had not yet surveyedMalebolge, they lacked a parallel for that which they encountered; theirtraverse discovered England razed, charred, and depopulate--picked bonesof an island, a vast and absolute ruin about which passion-wasted menskulked like rats. They went without molestation; malice and death hadjourneyed on their road aforetime, as heralds, and had swept it clear.
At every trace of these hideous precessors Osmund Heleigh would say, "Bya day's ride I might have prevented this." Or, "By a day's ride I mighthave saved this woman." Or, "By two days' riding I might have fed thischild."
The Queen kept Spartan silence, but daily you saw the fine woman age. Intheir slow advance every inch of misery was thrust before her as forinspection; meticulously she observed and appraised her handiwork.
Bastling the royal army had recently sacked. There remained of thisvillage the skeletons of two houses, and for the rest a jumble of bricks,rafters half-burned, many calcined fragments of humanity, and ashes. AtBastling, Messire Heleigh turned to the Queen toiling behind.
"Oh, madame!" he said, in a dry whisper, "this was the home of so manymen!"
"I burned it," Dame Alianora replied. "That man we passed just now Ikilled. Those other men and women--my folly killed them all. And littlechildren, my Osmund! The hair like corn-floss, blood-dabbled!"
"Oh, madame!" he wailed, in the extremity of his pity.
For she stood with eyes shut, all gray. The Queen demanded: "Why havethey not slain me? Was there no man in England to strangle the proudwanton? Are you all cowards here?"
"Not cowards!" he cried. "Your men and Leicester's ride about the world,and draw sword and slay and die for the right as they see it. And youfor the right as ye see it. But I, madame! I! I, who sat snug at homespilling ink and trimming rose-bushes! God's world, madame, and I in itafraid to speak a word for Him! God's world, and a curmudgeon in itgrudging God the life He gave!" The man flung out his soft hands andsnarled: "We are tempted in divers and insidious ways. But I, whorebuked you! behold, now, with how gross a snare was I entrapped!"
"I do not understand, my Osmund."
"I was afraid, madame," he returned, dully. "Everywhere men fight and Iam afraid to die."
So they stood silent in the ruins of Bastling.
"Of a piece with our lives," Dame Alianora said at last. "All ruin, myOsmund."
But Messire Heleigh threw back his head and laughed, new color in hisface. "Presently men will build here, my Queen. Presently, as in legendthe Arabian bird, arises from these ashes a lordlier and more spacioustown."
Then they went forward. The next day Fate loosed upon them Gui Camoys,lord of Bozon, Foliot, and Thwenge, who, riding alone through PogesCopse, found there a man and a woman over their limited supper. Thewoman had thrown back her hood, and Camoys drew rein to stare at her.Lispingly he spoke the true court dialect.
"Ma belle," said this Camoys, in friendly condescension, "n'estez vouspas jongleurs?"
Dame Alianora smiled up at him. "Ouais, messire; mon mary faict leschancons--" Here she paused, with dilatory caution, for Camoys hadleaped from his horse, giving a great laugh.
"A prize! ho, an imperial prize!" Camoys shouted. "A peasant woman withthe Queen's face, who speaks French! And who, madame, is this? Have youby any chance brought pious Lewis from oversea? Have I bagged a brace ofmonarchs?"
Here was imminent danger, for Camoys had known the Queen some fifteenyears. Messire Heleigh rose to his feet, his five days' beard glintinglike hoar-frost as his mouth twitched.
"I am Osmund Heleigh, messire, younger brother to the Earl of Brudenel."
"I have heard of you, I believe--the fellow who spoils parchment. Thisis odd company, however, Messire Osmund, for Brudenel's brother."
"A gentleman must serve his Queen, messire. As Cicero very justlyobserves--"
"I am inclined to think that his political opinions are scarcely to ourimmediate purpose. This is a high matter, Messire Heleigh. To let thesorceress pass is, of course, out of the question; upon the other hand, Iobserve that you lack weapons of defence. Yet if you will have thekindness to assist me in unarming, your courtesy will place our commerceon more equal footing."
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