CHAPTER XXXII
'BIDE THE TIME'
Walking the rounds at Hauterive the night of his coming there, a mansprang out at Prosper from a black entry and stabbed at him between theshoulders. "For the ravisher of Isoult!" was all the message that didnot miscarry, for Galors' mail of proof stopped the rest. Prosper whiptround in an instant, but the assassin had made up the passage-way.There was a quick chase through the break-neck lanes of the steeplittle town, then blood told. Prosper ran his man to earth in achurchyard. He proved to be a red-haired country lout, whose bandy legshad been against him in this work. He asked for no quarter, seemedbeside himself with rage.
"Friend," said Prosper, "you struck me from behind. You must havewished to make very sure. Why?"
Said Falve, "Thou ravisher, Galors."
"I cannot be called Galors to my face; politics may go to the devil.Keep my secret, countryman; I am in Galors' shell, but I will be Galorsno more."
Falve dropped on his knees. "Oh, my lord, my lord--" he began to cryout.
"Enough of lords," said Prosper. "Some of them do not very lordly, Igrant you. Your words touched me nearly. Be so good as to make yourselfplain. Who is Isoult?"
"Isoult la Desirous, my wife, Messire."
"Your wife!" cried Prosper, grinding his teeth.
"As good as that, my lord. I should have married her in the morning ifmy mother hadn't played the Turk on me."
So he had the whole story out of him. Prosper learnt that Isoult hadbeen put in her way to safety by the old woman, who immediately afterhad made that way the most perilous of all--with the best intentionsalways.
"Master Falve, I am your debtor," said Prosper at the end; "I wish yougood evening."
"Messire, will you not find my wife?"
"Your wife again, sirrah!" cried he, turning sharply.
"Ah, my lord, if you have any ill-will to that----"
"I have the greatest possible ill-will, my man, because she is alreadymy own."
"Heaven round about us, was there ever such a married woman!" criedpoor Falve, tearing his hair.
The politics of a lady to whom, so far as he then knew, he owed noservice held Prosper till the morning. The rest of the night he spentwalking the ramparts. At the first flutter of light he beat up thegarrison, assembled the men of both parties, and declared himself.
"Hauterive returns to its allegiance," said he. "Conradin de Lamport iscommandant. The former garrison will deliver up all arms and take theoath of fealty. A declaration of hue-and-cry is posted for Galors, witha reward for his head. In three days' time the Countess will send herViceroy to claim the keys. Gentlemen, I bid you good morning."
Conradin de Lamport was the name of the man who had accompanied himinto Wanmeeting. Prosper knew he was to be trusted. Then withconscience cleared he mounted his horse and left Hauterive.
Keeping a sharp look-out as he went, he was rewarded by the find of ashoe, glowing like a crimson toadstool in the moss. Not far off wereits fellow, and a pair of drenched silk stockings. He kissed thevestiges of the feet of Isoult, hung them to the peak of the saddle,and forward again like a westerly gale. After this came a fault whichdelayed him the best part of three days. The deer were dumb animals forhim, whose business had hitherto been to bleed not milk them. Therewere deer feeding in the glades of Thornyhold; but Belvisee was nursingher wound under the oak by the pool, and Mellifont was beside her. Thedeer snuffed an enemy in the friend of their friend; they gave him alead astray, which unconsciously he took. Thus he found himself, aftertwo days' aimless wandering and two nights' dreamless sleep, on thehigh ground by Deerleap, with the forest behind and the rolling purplefells stretched out before him, and at last a blue gauzy ribbon whichhe knew for the sea. Out of heart he turned and beat back toThornyhold, this time to better purpose.
A rustle in the fern, a start, a glint of the sun on a side not furry,a flash of flying green and russet, a streamer of hair like a littencloud--by Heavens, how the brown girl ran! Prosper, laughing but keen,gave chase. She led him far, in and out of the oak stems, doubling likea hare; but he rode her down by cutting off the corners: flushed,panting and wild, defiant she stood, ready to flinch at the blow.
Prosper's horse was properly breathed; as for him he burst into a laugh.
"My child, you bolted like a rabbit. But own that I gave you a goodrun."
"You beat me," said Mellifont.
"Well, and now I am going to do what I like with you."
"Of course."
"You must be obedient. Answer my question now. Why did you run?"
"Because you came."
"Why did you run?"
"Because you are a man."
"Madam Virgin, what a prude! Did you think I should hurt you?"
"Yes."
"Well, have I?"
"Not yet."
"Look at me now. Do I look like hurting you?" He put up his visor. Thesoftest brown eyes a girl can have trembled over him.
"No--o. Oh!" The negative was drowned in discovery. Prosper followedher gaze. He held up the red stockings.
"Do you know them, child?"
"I know to whom they belong. Are you going to hunt her?"
"Hunt her! I am going to find her. I think she has had hunting enough,God bless her."
"Yes, she has," said Mellifont gravely.
Prosper stooped in his saddle and laid a hand on her head.
"My dear," said he, "I love that hunted lady beyond everything in theworld; I never knew how much until I had lost her. But no wrong willhappen to her till she hears me tell her the truth. If you knowanything you must not hide it from me."
Mellifont peered up at him through her hair.
"Are you Prosper?" she asked.
"Yes, I am indeed. Did she speak to you about me?"
"Often."
"Is she--ah, Lord of Hosts! she is not here?"
"No, not now. She was here. Come with me. But you must leave your horseand sword behind you."
Prosper obeyed her without a thought. Mellifont took his hand and ledhim to the hollow under the oak. Belvisee was there, dumbly nursing herside, which a stooping hind was licking when the pair came up. Prosperreceived the red robe and the sequins from her hands, and in timepieced the story together. It cut him to the soul.
"Take me to the place where the dogs got her," he said in a whisper.Belvisee and Mellifont led him there. Once more, then, he wasted hiseyes on crushed herbage, black fern, and stained earth; again loathedhimself very heartily for what he had not done; but in time understoodwhat he had done. He turned deliberately to the sisters. "Belvisee andMellifont, listen to what I shall tell you. There is no strength like awoman's, and no blindness like that of a man. For the woman is strongbecause she is blind and cannot see the man she loves as he is;therefore she makes him in her own glorious image. But the man is blindbecause he is strong, and because he seeth himself so glorious that hecan abide no other near him save as a servant. In that he doth deadlysin to Love, because the food of Love is service, and he that servesnot Love starves him. But the woman feedeth him with her own milk; soLove is with her till she dies. I, by the mercy of God, have learnedwhat Love is, and can feed him with service. And Isoult la Desirous hastaught me, who is now Isoult la Desiree."
Prosper ceased. Mellifont was crying on Belvisee's shoulder. The lattersaid--
"Prosper, if all men were like thee, we might leave the forest anddwell with them."
"Come with me," he said, "and I will see you safely bestowed."
"No, no; we will stay where we are known and with whom we know. All menare not like you."
"As you must, it must needs be," replied Prosper. He kissed each on thecheek, and watched them go hand-in-hand down the glade. The herd closedin upon them, so neither he nor the Argument knows them any more.
Prosper knelt down to pray; but what he found set him to better work.He found Isoult's wedding-ring.
"By God," he cried, "who made men to labour, I will pray with my handsthis turn!"
He ran for his horse and sword. Courage came with his gallop, courageand self-esteem, without which no man ever did anything yet. Withself-esteem returned sober thought.
"I can do Malbank in three or four hours. There is light enough forwhat I have to settle there. I will spare my horse and save time in theend. Meantime I will think this affair out." So said Prosper gallopingto Prosper on his feet, the late moralist. His plan was very simply toconfront the Abbot with his ring. If that failed he would scour his owncountry, raise a troop, and lay leaguer on Saint Thorn. He hadforgotten Galors. He was soon to have a reminder of that grim fighter.
The doors of the great church stood open, so Prosper rode in. It wascold and dark, and smelt of death and candle-fumes. The pilasters ofthe nave were already swathed in black velvet; in the choir were greatlights set on the floor, in the midst of them a bier. A priest was at alittle altar by the bier's head, other cowled figures crouched aboutit. There was a low murmur of praying, even, whining, and mechanical.On the bier Prosper saw the comely Abbot Richard Dieudonne, in cope andmitre, holding in his hand the staff of his high office. This pastor ofthe Church was at peace; the man of the world was sober with access ofwisdom; the man of modes smiled pleasantly at his secret thoughts. Veryhandsome, very remote, very pure he looked; for so death purges off thedross which we work into the good clay.
Prosper, meditative always at the sight of death, stood and ponderedupon it. Everything was well, no doubt; such things should be! but theindifference of the defunct seemed almost shocking. Do they not carefor decent interment? Then he turned to a bystander.
"You mourn for your father?" he asked.
"Master, we do indeed. What! a great lord, a throned and pompouspriest, to be felled like a calf; his body spitted like a lark's! Noleave asked! You may well judge whether we mourn. I suppose there neverwas such a mournful affair since a king died in this country."
"Murdered?" cried Prosper, highly scandalized.
"Murdered by Prosper le Gai for the sake of the Chained Virgin."
"By Prosper le Gai?"
"'Tis so indeed. And well he did his work, if there's anything in wristplay. For first he spits the Abbot, and then he sunders the chain, andnext he overhauls the girl, and next the Abbot. And he puts her underhis arm like a marketable hen, and away he gallops over the heath. Hotwork!"
"Galors' work," said Prosper to himself as he turned away.
He prayed at three altars for the man's soul, turned, mounted, andgalloped. He forded Wan. A horseman met him on the further bank,shouting. Prosper lowered his head and shot at him as from a catapult.The spear drove deep, the man threw his arms out, sobbed, and droppedlike a stone. Prosper went on his race.
It was growing dusk when he stood on the threshold of Matt's intake,battering at the door. The hag-ridden face of old Mald stared out. Sheparted her tattered hair from her eyes and pointed a shaky finger athim.
"Galors," she wailed, "Galors, thou monk forsworn, thinkest thou tohave the Much-Desired? No, but her husband has her at last, and shallhave her with all that is hers--ah, though he have done murder to gether. Swear back, Galors, and pray for thy dead master."
Prosper held up his hand to stay the tide.
"Mother, I am Prosper, the husband of the Much-Desired. No murder haveI done, though I have seen murder. And I have not my wife; but Ibelieve she is with Galors."
Old Mald came fawning out to him at this, and took his hands in her owntrembling hands.
"He passed an hour agone," said she. "He will do her no wrong till hehath her at High March, trust him for that. And by now he should benear Martle, and she before him on the saddle-bow."
She began to weep and wag her silly head. Prosper made to go, having notime to waste; but, "Stop," she quavered, "and hear me out. Though theAbbot Richard was murdered at his prayers, yet withal he got hisdeserts, for he hatched a worse wrong than ever Galors did. The childwas chained by the middle, and came to me chained riding a whitepalfrey. In green and white she came, and round her middle was a chain,long and supple, and a monk on horse-back held the end thereof. Shecame to me to the hearth at the length of her chain, and held me in herdear arms, and kissed me, cheeks and forehead. Down I sat on my stooland she on the knees of me, and she hid her face on my leanness whileshe spoke of you, my lord--called you her dear heart, and told of allthe bitter longings she had. Ah, now! Ah, now! If you but knew."
"God forgive me," cried the lacerated wretch, "but I know it all! Yettell me what else she said."
"There was little more," said Mald, "for the monk pulled at her, andshe went as she came."
"Have they passed an hour gone?" said Prosper in a dry whisper.
"Ah, and more."
"God be with you," said he; "pray for her."
"Pray!" mocked the crone in a rage; "and pray what will that do?"
"No more than I, mother, just now. God is all about us. Farewell!"
And he was gone amid flying peats.
Midway of the heath a second knight met him, challenged him, andcharged. Prosper was not for small game that night. His head grewcooler, as always, for his haste, his arm steady as a rock. Thereuponhe ran his man through the breastbone. He broke his spear, but took theother's, and away. At the edge of the wood the moon-rays gleamed athird time upon mail. It was Galors' last sentry, who hallooed to stayhim. Prosper was on him before he was ready, and hurled him from thesaddle. He never moved. Prosper galloped through the wood.
The snapping branches, thunder of hoofs, labouring belly and hard-wonbreath of his beast, more than all the wind that sang in his ears,prevented him from hearing what Galors and his prey had already heard.He went headlong down the slope of the ground; but before anything morewelcome he caught the music of the brook in the bottom.
There was a gap in the trees just there; the moon swam in the midstlarge and golden. Then at last he saw what he wanted, and knew that thehour had come.