Part 22 (1/2)
As to my name--” ”'Tis Jocelyn,” quoth Beltane.
”Ha!” exclaimed the knight, staring.
”That won a suit of triple mail at Dunismere joust, and wagered it 'gainst Black Ivo's roan stallion within Deepwold forest upon a time.”
”Now, by Venus!” cried the knight, starting back, ”here be manifest sorcery! Ha! by the sweet blind boy, 'tis black magic!” and he crossed himself devoutly. But Beltane, laughing, put back his hood of mail, that his long, fair hair fell a-down rippling to his shoulders.
”Know you me not, messire?” quoth he.
”Why,” said Sir Jocelyn, knitting delicate brows, ”surely thou art the forester that o'ercame Duke Ivo's wrestler; aye, by the silver feet of lovely Thetis, thou'rt Beltane the Smith!”
”Verily, messire,” nodded Beltane, ”and 'tis not meet that knight cross blade with lowly smith.”
”Ha!” quoth Sir Jocelyn, rubbing at his smooth white chin, ”yet art a goodly man withal--and lover to boot--methinks?”
”Aye,” sighed Beltane, ”ever and always.”
”Why then, all's well,” quoth Sir Jocelyn with eyes a-dance, ”for since true love knoweth nought of distinctions, therefore being lovers are we peers, and, being peers, so may we fight together. So come, Sir Smith, here stand I sword in hand to maintain 'gainst thee and all men the fame and honour of her I wors.h.i.+p, of all women alive, maid or wife or widow, the fairest, n.o.blest, truest, and most love-worthy is--”
”Helen of Mortain!” quoth Beltane, sighing.
”Helen?--Helen?--thou too!” exclaimed Sir Jocelyn, and forthwith dropped his sword, staring in stark amaze. ”How--dost thou love her also?”
”Aye,” sighed Beltane, ”to my sorrow!”
Then stooped Sir Jocelyn and, taking up his sword, slowly sheathed it.
Quoth he, sad-eyed:
”Life, methinks, is full of disappointments; farewell to thee, Sir Smith,” and sighing, he turned away; yet ere he had taken lance and s.h.i.+eld, Beltane spake:
”Whither away, Sir Jocelyn?”
”To sigh, and sing, and seek adventure. 'Twas for this I left my goodly castle of Alain and journeyed, a lorn pilgrim, hither to Pentavalon, since when strange stories have I heard that whisper in the air, speeding from lip to lip, of a certain doughty knight-at-arms, valiant beyond thought, that beareth a sword whose mighty sweep none may abide, who, alone and unaided slew an hundred and twenty and four within the greenwood, and thereafter, did, 'neath the walls of Belsaye town burn down Duke Ivo's gibbet, who hath sworn to cut Duke Ivo into gobbets, look you, and feed him to the dogs; which is well, for I love not Duke Ivo. All this have I heard and much beside, idle tales mayhap, yet would I seek out this errant Mars and prove him, for mine own behoof, with stroke of sword.”
”And how an he prove worthy?” questioned Beltane.
”Then will I ride with him, to share his deeds and glory mayhap, Sir Smith--I and all the ten-score l.u.s.ty fellows that muster to my pennon, since in the air is whispered talk of war, and Sir Benedict lieth ready in Thrasfordham Keep.”
”Two hundred men,” quoth Beltane, his blue eyes agleam, ”two hundred, say you?” and, speaking, he stepped forward, unsheathing his sword.
”How now,” quoth Sir Jocelyn, ”what would ye, sweet smith?”
”I would have thee prove me for thy behoof, Sir Jocelyn; for I am he that with aid of five good men burned down the gibbet without Belsaye.”
”Thou!” cried Sir Jocelyn, ”and thou art a smith! And yet needs must I credit thee, for thine eyes be truthful eyes. And did'st indeed slay so many in the green, forsooth?”
”Nay,” answered Beltane, ”there were but twenty; moreover I--”
”Enough!” cried Sir Jocelyn, gaily, ”be thou smith or be thou demi-G.o.d, now will I make proof of thy might and valiance.” And he drew sword.