CHAPTER XX
HOW PROSPER HELD A REVIEW
Messire Prosper le Gai with his dozen men had scoured the forestcountry from March on the east to Wanmeeting on the west, and fromMarch-Gilbert among the hills of the north to Gracedieu inMid-Morgraunt, without any sign of the Egyptian. But at Wanmeetingthere had been news of a golden knight, who, unattended, rode into themarket-place at sunset asking the whereabouts of Galors de Born and hisforce. Having learned that they had taken the Goltres road the knighthad posted off at a gallop, hot foot. Now Prosper knew what sort of aforce Galors might have there, and guessed (from what intelligenceIsoult had added to his own) that the golden knight would make at leasttwo brains in it. To follow, to get his dozen men killed, were nothing;but could he be certain Galors would be dropped and Maulfry secured forthe appointed branding before the last of them fell? As for his ownlife, we know that he considered that arranged for. He habitually leftit out of the reckoning. On the whole, however, he decided that hecould not successfully attack. He must return for reinforcements,taking with him a report which, he relied, would secure them. Waisfordhad been raided, the fields about it laid waste. There were evidencesof burnings and slaughterings on all hands. He put what heart he couldinto the scared burgesses before he left, and what common-sense. ButGalors had gone through like a hot wind.
So Prosper and his men returned to High March. On the morning in whichIsoult stirred to open her loaded eyes, and began to moan a little, heand they went by within some forty yards of her--the troopers first,then himself riding alone behind them. He heard the moaning sound andlooked up; indeed, he saw the black ram standing, alone as he thought,with drooped head. Prosper was full of affairs. "Some ewe but latelyyeaned," he thought as he rode on. The glaze swam again over Isoult'seyes, and the moaning grew faint and near its death. The ram fell tolicking her cheek. In this pass she was presently found by acharcoal-burner, who had delivered his loads, and was now journeyingback with his asses into the heart of the forest. He also heard themoaning; he too saw the ram. Perhaps he knew more of the habits of ewesor had them readier in mind. He may have had no affairs. The beast, atany rate, was a ram for him, and the licked cheek that of a murderedboy who lay with the other cheek on the sward. The blood about his eyesand hair, the blood on the grass, was dry blood; nevertheless the manturned him over, felt his bones, listened at his heart, and made up hismind that he was not dead. A little wine to his lips brought him to.The charcoal-burner looked into the wounds and washed them, producedblack bread, goat's-milk cheese, with a little more wine, finallyhelped the beaten lad to his feet and to one of his asses. He assumedit was a fight and not a failure to murder: that was safer for him.With the same view he asked no questions. It was a pity to leave theram, he thought. Butcher's meat was scarce. He killed it then andthere, having plenty of asses to hand. In that category, with littledoubt, must be placed the ram in question, who, had he had a properabhorrence of persons who rode him face to the tail, would have kepthis skin and lived to found a family.
The charcoal-burner, when all was made fast, set his team in motion.Man, woman, and asses, they ambled off down the green alley towards themiddle holds of Morgraunt.
Prosper and his men, lords of those parts, went on their way home toHigh March. The men disposed in their lodging, Prosper himself rodeunder the gateway of the castle, crossed the drawbridge, and enteredthe courtyard amid the mock salutes of the grinning servants. Full ofthought as he was, vexed at his check, curiously desiring to see Isoultagain (who had such believing eyes!), he took no heed of all this, butdismounting, called for his page. At this there was a hush, as when theplay is to begin. Then Master Porges, the seneschal, solemnly awaitinghim, solemnly blinked at him, and cleared his throat for a speech.
"Messire," he said, "Messire, to call for a page is an easy matter, butto answer for a page is a difficult matter." He loved periphrasis, thegood Porges.
"What do you mean by that, my dear friend?" said Prosper blandly,defying periphrasis.
"Messire," went on Master Porges, hard put to it, "to answer you wereto defile the tongue God hath given me for her ladyship's service. Toobey is better than sacrifice. Her present obedience is that I shouldrequest your presence in the ante-chamber the instant of your appearingbefore these halls."
"You will do me the honour, seneschal," said Prosper, growing polite,"to answer my question first."
"I will send for the girl Melot, Messire," answered Master Porges.
"You shall send for whom you please, my friend, but you shall answer myquestion before you move from that step."
The seneschal did not move from the step. He sent a loiterer to fetchMelot from the kitchen, while Prosper waited, the centre of anentranced crowd.
"Ah, the suffering maid!" cried the seneschal as he saw Melot near athand. "My maid, you must speak to Messire in answer to a question heput me but a few minutes since. Messire, my girl, asked for his page."
Melot's heart began to thump. The steel demigod was before her, sheunprepared. The fire was laid, but wanted kindling. Prosper kindled itfor his own consuming.
"Pray what has this woman to do here?" he asked.
"Woman indeed!" rounded Melot, breathing again. "Woman! do you call menames, Messire? Keep them for the baggage you fetched in!"
Prosper saw the whole thing in a flash. He grew still more polite.
"Seneschal," he said, "have the goodness to inform your mistress of mycoming. Pray that I may wait upon her immediately.... I think," headded after a pause, "I think that you had better go at once."
The seneschal agreed that he had. He went.
Prosper waited in silence, in a crowd equally silent.
The seneschal shortly returned.
"Her ladyship will see Messire at once. I beg Messire to follow me."
He entered the Countess's chamber, and, lifting his head, looked at awhite lady on a throne. He had never seen her so before. She wasdressed in pure white, with a face near as dead as her clothes. Allthat was dark about it haunted her masked eyes. She sat with her chinin her hand, looking and waiting for him; when he came, and theseneschal was dismissed with a curt nod, she still sat in the same deadfashion, watchful of her guest, unwinking, pondering. Prosper, for hispart, bided the time. He guessed what was coming, but a word from himmight have put him in the wrong.
In the end the Countess broke the long silence. He thought he had neverheard her voice; it sounded like that of a tired old woman.
"I had thought to find in you, my lord, the son of an old friend, likein spirit as in blood to him whom at first I sought to honour in you. Ifind I have been mistaken, but for your father's sake I will not tellyou how much nor by what degrees. Rather I will beg you go at once frommy house."
Said Prosper--
"Madam, for my father's sake, if not for mine, you will tell much morethan this to his son. Have your words any hint of reference to the LadyIsoult? Speak of her, madam, as you would speak of my mother, for sheis my wife."
The Countess shrank back in her throne as if to avoid a whip. Shecowered there. Her eyes dilated, though she seemed incapable of seeinganything at all; her mouth opened gradually--Prosper expected her toscream--till it formed a round O, a pale ring circling black. Prosper,having delivered his blow, waited in his turn; though his breathwhistled through his nostrils his lips were shut, his head still veryhigh. The blow was a shrewd one for the lady. You might have countedtwenty before she began to talk to herself in a whisper. Prosperthought she was mad.
"I should have known--I should have known--I should have known," shewhispered, very fast, as people whisper on a death-bed.
"Madam," he broke in, "certainly you should have known had it seemedpossible to tell you. Even now I can tell you no more than the barefact, which is as I have stated it. And so it must be for the moment,until I have completed an adventure begun. But so much as I tell younow I might have told you before. It is shame to me that I did not.Marriage to me is a new thing, love still a strange thing. Had Ithought the
n as I now do, be sure you would never have seen me herewithout my wife, whom now, madam, I will pray leave to present to you,the Lady Isoult le Gai."
During this narration the Countess had risen slowly to her feet. Shewas labouring under some stress which Prosper could not fathom. For alittle she stood, working her torture before him. Then she suddenlysmote herself on the breast and cried at him--"You have done moremisery than you can dream." And again she struck herself, and then,coming down from her throne like a wild thing, she shrieked at him asif possessed--"You fool, you fool! Look at me!"
He could not help himself; look he must. She came creeping up to him.She caught at his two hands and peered into his face with her blindeyes.
"Do you love Isoult, Prosper?"
He could hardly hear her. But he raised his head.
"By God and His Christ, I believe that I do," said he.
The Countess took a dagger from her girdle, unsheathed it, and put itin his hand. She knelt down before him as a woman kneels to a saint ina church. With a sudden frenzy she tore open the front of her gown sothat all her bosom was bare, and then as suddenly whipt her handsbehind her back.
"Now kill me, Prosper," she whined; "for I love thee, and I have killedthy love Isoult."
So she bowed her head and waited.
But Prosper gave a terrible cry, and turned and left her kneeling. Heran down the corridor blindly, not knowing how or whither he fared. Atthe end of it was a door which gave on to the Minstrel Gallery over thegreat hall. Into this trap he ran and fetched up against the parapet.Below him in the hall were countless faces--as it seemed, a sea ofwhite faces, mouthing, jeering, and cursing. He stood glaring blanklyat them, fetching his breath. Words flew about--horrible! Out of all hecaught here and there a scrap, each tainted with hate and unspeakabledisgrace.
"Come down, thou polluter." Again, "Serve him like hiswench."--"Trounce him with his woman."--"Send the pair to hell!"
The dawning attention he began to pay sobered his panic, quenched it.What he learned by listening struck him cold. He took pains; he couldhear every word now, surely. He was really very attentive. Thechartered rascals packed in the hall took this for irresolution, andhowled at him to their hearts' content. Once more Prosper held to hismotto--bided the time. The time came with the coming of MasterPorges--that smug and solemn man--into the assembly. The seneschallooked round him with a benignant air, as who should say, "My childrenall!" The listening man in the gallery watched all this.
Suddenly his sword flashed out. Prosper vaulted over the gallery,dropped down into the thick of them, and began to kill. Kill indeed hedid. Right and left, like a man with a scythe, he sliced a way forhimself. There were soldiers, pikemen, and guards in the press: therewas none there so tall as he, nor with such a reach, above all, therewas none whose rage made him cold and his anger merry. However theywere, they could scarcely have faced the hard glitter of his blue eyes,the smile of his fixed lips. He could have carved with a dagger, with abludgeon, a flail, or a whip. As it was, to a long arm was added a longsword, which whistled through the air, but through flesh went quiet.There had been blows at first from behind and at the side of him. Thelong mowing arms stayed them. It became a butchery of sheep before hewas midway of the hall, thence the rest of his passage to the door wasbetween two huddled heaps, with not a flick in either.
He reached his goal, shot the bolt, and turned, leaning against thedoor. The heaped walls of that human sea had by this flowed over hislane; now they stood eyeing him who faced them and wiped his blade witha piece cut from the arras--eyeing him askance with silly, shockedfaces. Behind them a few grunted or sobbed; but for the most part hehad done his work only too well.
Having wiped exquisitely his sword and sheathed it, Prosper took a stepforward. The heap of men huddled again.
"Let one go to fetch Melot," he said softly.
No one stirred.
"Let one go to fetch Melot."
No motion, no breath.
"Ah," said he as if to himself, and laid hand to pommel. The heapshuddered and turned on itself. It swarmed. Finally, like a drop from asponge, Master Porges exuded and stood out, a sweating monument.
"Seneschal," said Prosper, with a bow, "I am for the moment about toask a favour of you. Have the goodness to oblige me." He unbolted thedoor and held it open for the man.
Master Porges gasped, looked once to heaven, thought to pray.
"_In manus teas, Domine!_" he sighed.
"Exactly," said Prosper, and kicked him out. The breathless audiencewas resumed.
A timid knocking--a mere flutter--at the door ushered in as tip-toe acouple as you might easily see. Master Porges fell to his knees andprayers; Melot was too far gone for that. She simply did everything shewas told.
"Melot," said Prosper, "you will tell me the whole tale from thebeginning. It was you who first knew the Lady Isoult?"
"Yes, Messire."
"It was you who told the others?"
"Yes, Messire."
"Your mistress then saw the Lady Isoult?"
"Yes, Messire."
"What happened next?"
"My lady struck her, and pushed her into the corridor, Messire."
"Ah! And then?"
"And we were all there, Messire."
"Ah, yes. Waiting?"
"Yes, Messire."
"And then?"
"Then we had a procession, Messire."
"Who ordered it?"
"The seneschal had the ordering, Messire."
"_O Pudor!_ O afflicted liar!" prayed Master Porges.
But the tale went on. The afflicted liar forgot nothing except MasterPorges' syllogisms. These she took for granted. At the end Prosper saidto her--
"Melot, you may go. I do not punish women, and you have only done afteryour kind. Go to the others."
The pack opened and swallowed her up. Prosper turned to Master Porges,who was gabbling prayers for his enemies.
"Master Seneschal," he said, "since it is you who have driven this herdof hogs to do your work, now I shall drive them to do mine. And inteaching you through them what it is to do villainy to ladies, I teachthem through you. They could not have a better guide than theirheadman; and as for you, I will take care that you are well grounded inwhat you have to teach."
"Ah, Messire," babbled the shiny rogue, "have I not done after my kindalso?"
"You have indeed, my friend," Prosper replied. "Now I will do aftermine."
To be short, he had Master Porges stripped, horsed, and stoutly floggedthen and there. This he did by the simple device of calling up hisagents by name, having the general's knack of judging men. MasterPorges was a pursy man, but there were burlier than he; a couple oflean stablemen made good practice with the stirrup-leathers. At the endthe entire herd were his slaves. One fetched his horse, another hisshield and spear, three fought for the stirrup. A dozen would haveshown him the way to the last scene of the martyrdom (for so, by vividcomparison, the common enthusiasm conceived it); but for this he chosethe man who had unstrapped the girl. This worthy had not failed torecommend himself to notice on that score. He received his reward.Prosper addressed him two requests. The first was, "Lead," and the manled him. The second was, "Go," and the man fled back. Prosper was leftalone before a form of bruised bracken to make what he could of it.
He was a man of action, not given to reflections, not imaginative,essentially simple in what he thought and did. What he did was todismount and doff his helmet. Next, with the butt of his spear, hebattered out the cognizance on his shield till no _fesse dancettee_rippled there. "I will bear you next when I have won you," said he tothe maimed arm. Bare-headed then he knelt before the form in the fernand prayed.
"Lord God of heaven and earth, now at last I know what the love ofwoman is. Let my wife learn of me the love of an honest man. And tothat end, Father of heaven, suffer me to be made a man. _Per ChristumDominum_," etc.
At the end of his prayer he knelt on, and what drove in his brain Iknow not at all. The unutterable d
evotion of that meek and humblecreature who called him master and lord, who had lain by his side,walked at his heels, sat at his knee, served at his table, put his footto her neck (she so high in grace, he so shameless in brute strength!),bowed to a yoke, endured scorn, shame, bleeding, stripes, blindness,and the swoon like death--all this was something beyond thought: it waspiercingly sweet, but it beat him down as a breath of flame. He fellflat on his face upon the black fern and blood, and so stayed cryinglike a boy.
When he got up he buckled on his helm, mounted, and rode straight forGoltres.
Master Porges knew an image-maker at March, and paid him a visit. Hecaused to be made a little stone figure of a lady, very beautiful, witha brass aureole round her victorious head. She was depicted tramplingon a grinning knight--evidently the devil in one of his many disguises,though as like Prosper as description could provide. Underneath, on thepedestal, ran the legend--_Sancta Isolda Dei Genetricis Ancilla Ora ProNobis_. He set this up in his chamber over a faldstool, and said three_Paters_ and nine _Aves_ before it daily. He reported that he derivedunspeakable comfort from the practice, and for my part I believe thathe did.