Part 11 (1/2)

”Then look ever before thee, so shalt see neither.”

”Yet will they be there!”

”Yet doth the sun s.h.i.+ne in high heaven, so must these things be till G.o.d and the saints shall mend them. But if thou must needs be doleful, go make thee troubles of thine own but leave the woes of this wide world to G.o.d!”

”Nay,” said Beltane, shaking his head, ”how if G.o.d leave these things to thee and me?”

”Why then methinks the world must wag as it will. Yet must we repine therefore? Out upon thee for a sober, long-legged, doleful wight. Now harkee! Here sit I--less fool! A fool who hath, this day, been driven forth of my lord's presence with blows and cruel stripes! And wherefore? 'Twas for setting a bird free of its cage, a small matter methinks--though there be birds--and birds, but mum for that! Yet do I grieve and sigh therefore, O doleful long-shanks? Not so--fie on't! I blow away my sorrows through the music of this my little pipe and, lying here, set my wits a-dancing and lo! I am a duke, a king, a very G.o.d! I create me a world wherein is neither hunger nor stripes, a world of joy and laughter, for, blessed within his dreams, even a fool may walk with G.o.ds and juggle with the stars!”

”Aye,” nodded Beltane, ”but how when he awake?”

”Why then, messire,” laughed the fellow, leaping nimbly to his feet, ”why then doth he ask alms of thee, as thus: Prithee most n.o.ble messire, of thy bounty show kindness to a fool that lacks everything but wit. So give, messire, give and spare not, so may thy lady prove kind, thy wooing prosper and love strengthen thee.”

Now when the jester spake of love, my Beltane must needs sigh amain and shake a doleful head.

”Alas!” said he, ”within my life shall be no place for love, methinks.”

”Heigho!” sighed the jester, ”thy very look doth proclaim thee lover, and 'tis well, for love maketh the fool wise and the wise fool, it changeth saints into rogues and rogues into saints, it teacheth the strong man gentleness and maketh the gentle strong. 'Tis sweeter than honey yet bitter as gall--Love! ah, love can drag a man to h.e.l.l or lift him high as heaven!”

”Aye verily,” sighed Beltane, ”I once did dream of such a love, but now am I awake, nor will I dream of love again, nor rest whiles l.u.s.t and Cruelty rule this sorrowful Duchy--”

”Ha, what would ye then, fond youth?”

”I am come to smite them hence,” said Beltane, clenching mighty fists.

”How?” cried the jester, wide of eye. ”Alone?”

”Nay, methinks G.o.d goeth with me. Moreover, I have this sword!” and speaking, Beltane touched the hilt of the great blade at his side.

”What--a sword!” scoffed the jester, ”think ye to mend the woes of thy fellows with a sword? Go to, thou grave-visaged, youthful fool! I tell thee, 'tis only humour and good fellows.h.i.+p can mend this wretched world, and there is nought so lacking in humour as a sword--unless it be your prating priest or mumbling monk. A pope in cap and bells, now-- aha, there would be a world indeed, a world of joy and laughter! No more gloom, no more bans and d.a.m.nings of Holy Church, no more groaning and snivelling in damp cloister and mildewed chapel, no more burnings and hangings and rackings--”

”Yet,” said Beltane, shaking his head, ”yet would kings and dukes remain, Christian knights and G.o.dly lords to burn and hang and rack the defenceless.”

”Aye, Sir Gravity,” nodded the jester, ”but the Church is paramount ever; set the pope a-blowing of tunes upon a reed and kings would lay by their sceptres and pipe too and, finding no time or l.u.s.t for warring, so strife would end, swords rust and wit grow keen. And wit, look you, biteth sharper than sword, laughter is more enduring than blows, and he who smiteth, smiteth only for lack of wit. So, an you would have a happy world, lay by that great sword and betake thee to a little pipe, teach men to laugh and so forget their woes. Learn wisdom of a fool, as thus: 'Tis better to live and laugh and beget thy kind than to perish by the sword or to dangle from a tree. Here now is advice, and in this advice thy life, thus in giving thee advice so do I give thee thy life. And I am hungry. And in thy purse is money wherewith even a fool might come by food. And youth is generous! And thou art very young! Come, sweet youthful messire, how much for thy life--and a fool's advice?”

Then Beltane smiled, and taking out one of his three remaining gold pieces, put it in the jester's hand.

”Fare thee well, good fool,” said he, ”I leave thee to thy dreams; G.o.d send they be ever fair--”

”Gold!” cried the jester, spinning the coin upon his thumb, ”ha, now do I dream indeed; may thy waking be ever as joyous. Farewell to thee, thou kind, sweet, youthful fool, and if thou must hang some day on a tree, may every leaf voice small prayers for thy gentle soul!”

So saying, the jester nodded, waved aloft his bauble, and skipped away among the trees. But as Beltane went, pondering the jester's saying, the drowsy stillness was s.h.i.+vered by a sudden, loud cry, followed thereafter by a clamour of fierce shouting; therefore Beltane paused and turning, beheld the jester himself who ran very fleetly, yet with three l.u.s.ty fellows in close pursuit.

”Messire,” panted the jester, wild of eye and with a trickle of blood upon his pallid face, ”O sweet sir--let them not slay me!”

Now while he spake, and being yet some way off, he tripped and fell, and, as he lay thus the foremost of his pursuers, a powerful, red-faced man, leapt towards him, whirling up his quarter-staff to smite; but, in that moment, Beltane leapt also and took the blow upon his staff and swung it aloft, yet stayed the blow, and, bestriding the prostrate jester, spake soft and gentle, on this wise:

”Greeting to thee, forest fellow! Thy red face liketh me well, let us talk together.”

But, hereupon, as the red-faced man fell back, staring in amaze, there came his two companions, albeit panting and short of breath.