Part 56 (1/2)
”O, 'tis a lie--O dear my lord--'tis lie most foul--!”
”In witness whereof behold upon my wrists the shameful irons from my dungeon--”
”Alas! here was no work of Helen's--no thought, no will--Helen would have died to save thee this--”
”So, Fidelis, do I scorn all women that do live upon this earth henceforth--but, above all, Helen the Beautiful! the Wilful! who in her white bosom doth bear a heart more foul than Trojan Helen, that was a woman false and d.a.m.ned. So now, all's said.”
Now fell Sir Fidelis upon his knees and spake quick and pa.s.sionate:
”Nay, Beltane, hear me! For now do I swear that he who told thee 'twas Helen wrought thee this vile wrong--who told thee this doth lie--O, doth lie! Now do I swear that never by word or thought or deed, hath she been false to thee--I do swear she loveth thee--ah, spurn me not-- O, believe--”
”Enough--enough, good Fidelis, perjure not thy sweet youth for one so much unworthy, for with these eyes did I behold her as they bore me in my bonds--and shall I not believe mine eyes?”
”Never--ah! never, when they do shew thee Helen false and cruel to thee! Here was some vile magic--witchcraft--”
”Enough, Fidelis, 'tis past and done. Here was a woman false--well, 'tis none so singular--there have been others--there will be others.
So, G.o.d keep thee, sweet youth, from the ways of women. Nay, let us speak of this no more, for in sooth I grow a-weary and we must ride with the dawn to-morrow. So, betake thee to thy rest, nor grieve thee for my sorrows past and done--mayhap they shall be things to smile upon one day.”
So saying, Beltane sighed, and laid him down among the bracken and thereafter Fidelis did the like; the fire sank and waned, and oft Sir Fidelis stirred restless in the shadows; the river murmured slumberously among the sedge, but Beltane, hearkening with drowsy ears, oft thought to hear another sound, very soft and repressed yet very dolorous, ere, worn and spent, and something weakened by wound and loss of blood, he sank at last to deep and gentle sleep.
But in his sleep he dreamed that one knelt above him in the dark, keeping watch upon his slumbers in the att.i.tude of one in prayer--one whom he knew, yet knew not; it seemed to Beltane in his dream, that this silent, slender shape, stooped of a sudden, low and lower, to kiss the iron fetters that bound his wrists; then Beltane strove to wake yet could not wake, but in his slumber sighed a name, soft-breathed and gentle as the languorous murmur of the stream:
”Helen!”
CHAPTER XLIII
HOW BELTANE KNEW GREAT HUMILITY
The rising sun, darting an inquisitive beam 'twixt a leafy opening, fell upon Beltane's wide, slow-heaving breast; crept upwards to his chin, his cheek, and finally strove to peep beneath his slumberous, close-shut lids; whereat Beltane stirred, yawned, threw wide and stretched his mighty arms, and thereafter, blinking drowsily, sat up, his golden hair be-tousled, and stared sleepily about him.
Birds piped joyously near and far; hid among the leaves near by, the war-horse Mars stamped eager hoof and snuffed the fragrant air of morning; but Sir Fidelis was nowhere to be seen. Thus in a while Beltane arose to find his leg very stiff and sore, and his throat be parched with feverish thirst; wherefore, limping painfully, he turned where a little water-brook went singing o'er pebbly bed to join the slow-moving river; but, putting aside the leaves, he paused of a sudden, for there, beside the noisy streamlet he beheld Sir Fidelis, his bascinet upon the gra.s.s beside him, his mail-coif thrown back betwixt his shoulders, stooping to bathe his face in the sparkling water.
Now would he have called a greeting, but the words died upon his lips, his breath stayed, and he stared at something that had caught in the links of the young knight's mail-coif, something that stirred light and wanton, kissed by the breath of early morn--a lock of bright hair that glowed a wondrous red-gold in the new-risen sun. So stood Beltane awhile, and, beholding this, a trembling seized him and therewith sudden anger, and he strode forth of the leaves. And lo! on the instant, on went hood of mail and thereafter s.h.i.+ning bascinet, and Sir Fidelis arose. But, ere he could turn, Beltane was beside him, had caught him within a powerful arm, and, setting a hand 'neath mailed chin, lifted the young knight's head and scowled down into his face.
Eyes long, black-lashed and darkly blue that looked up awhile into his, wide, yet fearless, and anon, were hid 'neath languorous-drooping lids; a nose tenderly aquiline, lips red and full that met in ripe and luscious curves. This Beltane saw, and straightway his anger grew.
”Ah!” cried he, hoa.r.s.ely, ”now, by the living G.o.d, who art thou, and-- what?”
”Thy--comrade-in-arms, lord Beltane.”
”Why hast thou the seeming of one beyond all women false? Why dost thou speak me betimes in her voice, look at me with her eyes, touch me with her soft, white, traitor's hands--answer me!”
”My lord, we are akin, she and I--of the same house and blood--”
”Then is thy blood foul with treachery!”
”Yet did I save thy life, Beltane!”