Part 72 (1/2)
”Master,” he cried, pointing with eager finger, ”O master, the keep-- where is the great keep that stood yonder?”
”Aye, verily--the keep!” nodded Sir Benedict, clapping mailed hand to thigh, ”and 'twas a great and mighty hold as I do mind me!”
Now looked they gloomily on each other and halted their array what time Sir Benedict pa.s.sed word for bows to be strung and every eye and every ear to be strained right needfully; then moved they on again.
Betimes they reached the outskirts of the town, for defences it had none, but no man moved therein and no sound reached them but the noise of their own going. Thus, in a while, with hands tight-clenched and lips firm-set they rode into the desolation of the market-place befouled by signs of battle fierce and fell, while beyond, a ma.s.s of charred ruin, lay all that was left of Winisfarne's once great and famous keep.
Now above this ruin divers gibbets had been set up, and behold! these gibbets each bore a heavy burden. Then Beltane lighted from his horse, and going apart, laid by his casque and sat him down, his head bowed betwixt his hands as one that is direly sick. In a while as he sat thus, heedless of all things, cometh Roger.
”Master,” said he, ”saw ye the gibbets yonder?”
”I saw them, Roger.”
”Upon those gibbets be divers of our good fellows, master. There is Diccon and Peter of my company of pikes, and Gregory that was a fair good bowman, and there be others also--and master, these be not hanged men!”
”Not hanged--?”
”No, master! All these our men died in battle, as their wounds do testify--they were dead men already when Pertolepe hanged them on his gibbets. And Walkyn is not here, wherefore, methinks, he liveth yet.
And Pertolepe is not here, yet where Pertolepe is, there shall we surely find Walkyn, for Walkyn hath sworn full oft--ha! master-- master, behold what cometh here--see, yonder!”
Then Beltane arose, and looking where Roger pointed, beheld a strange, misshapen thing, half beast, half man, that ran wondrous fleetly towards them, and, as it ran, flourished aloft a broken sword; now was he lost to sight behind some bush or quick-set, now he bounded high over stream or stone or fallen tree--nought was there could let or stay him--until he came where stood Sir Benedict's outposts, to whose conduct he yielded him forthwith and so was presently brought into the market-square.
A wild figure this, great and hairy of head and with the arms and shoulders of a very giant; bedight was he in good link-mail, yet foul with dirt and mire and spattered with blood from heel to head, and in one great hand he griped still the fragment of a reddened sword. All a-sweat was he, and bleeding from the hair, while his mighty chest heaved and laboured with his running.
So stood he betwixt his brawny captors what time he panted hoa.r.s.e and loud, and stared about him fierce-eyed 'neath beetling brows. Thus, of a sudden he espied my Beltane standing bare-headed in his youthful might, whereon this monstrous man forthwith dashed aside his stalwart guards as they had been babes, and ran towards Beltane with hairy hands outstretched, whereon sprang Roger to front him, dagger a-gleam; but lo! Roger was caught up in those mighty arms and shaken helplessly.
”Fool!” cried this grim fellow, ”think ye I would harm Beltane that is my most loved lord henceforth? I am Ulf, called the Strong, and, as this my hateful body is strong, so is my love--lie there!” So saying, Ulf laid Roger upon his back, and coming to Beltane, fell upon his face before him and caught his mailed feet and kissed them.
”Lord Beltane,” he cried, harsh-voiced, ”thou seest I do love thee--yet 'twas I did bear thee captive to thy foe by command of one I love beyond all others. But thou, lord Beltane, thou at peril of thy life did save her from shame and fiery death when Ulf could not--so do I love thee, lord Beltane, and will be thy slave henceforth, to love and serve thee till I die--an thou wilt take me. Misshapen and unlovely ye behold me--a vile thing that men would jeer at but that they fear to die, for G.o.d who hath denied me all else, hath given me strength beyond all men. Yet do I hate myself and do hide me from the eyes of my fellows: but, an thou canst bear with me, canst suffer me beside thee and be not ashamed of my unloveliness, then will I front all eyes right boldly. Now lord, an thou wilt take Ulf for thy man, reach down to me thy hand.”
Then Beltane reached down and took Ulf's hairy hand in his.
”Ulf,” said he, ”thou that G.o.d hath blessed with such n.o.ble strength, methinks 'neath thy grim shape thy heart is n.o.ble also, and thy soul, mayhap, straight and lovely. So will I make thee brother in arms to my faithful Roger, that ye two shall ride ever near me when the battle joins.”
Now Ulf the strong stood up erect upon his feet, and on his swart cheeks great tears rolled, glistening.
”Lord!” said he, ”O Beltane, my lord and master--” and bowed grim head with sudden sob, whereat Beltane questioned him full hastily, as thus:
”Art wounded, Ulf! And whence come ye in such guise?”
”Lord,” says Ulf, wiping off his tears and choking upon a sob, ”I came through b.l.o.o.d.y Pertolepe's array.”
”Through?--nay, how mean you?” questioned Beltane, the while Sir Benedict and many wondering knights and esquires pressed round them in a ring.
”I mean through, lord, for Walkyn's need is dire. So burst I through them--I had an axe but it brake in my hold, see you, even as this my sword--alack, there is no weapon that I do not break! Howbeit here am I, lord, hither come with word for one Sir Benedict of Bourne that did covenant to meet with Walkyn here at Winisfarne!”
”Behold us here--speak on!” quoth Sir Benedict.
”Thus, then, saith Walkyn o' the Dene: That scarce had he stormed and set fire to yonder prison-keep, than from the south cometh a great company, the which he at the first did take for ye. But, in a while, behold Sir Pertolepe's accursed Raven banner, the which giveth Walkyn much to think. Now cometh to him one beyond all women n.o.ble and gracious and holy (as I do know) the fair and stately Abbess Veronica, who, years agone, did build and endow yon great and goodly abbey, wherein all poor desolate souls should be cherished and comforted by her and her saintly nuns, and where the stricken fugitive might find sanctuary and peace and moreover be healed of his hurts. (All this know I since I was fugitive, hurt and very woeful and found me solace there.) So cometh this n.o.ble lady to Walkyn (and with her, I) and speaketh him calm and sweetly, thus: 'Yonder rideth Sir Pertolepe that is knight of n.o.ble birth, yet the rather would I trust myself and these my good sisters in thy hands, O man! So do I pray thee when thou goest hence, yield us the protection of thy strength, so shall heaven bless thee!' Hereon Walkyn frowned and plucked his beard awhile, but thereafter, came he to kneel and kiss her hand and swear to aid her the while life him lasted. Then summoned he his company (l.u.s.ty fellows all) and called for thirty men that would remain to hold Red Pertolepe in play what time he seeketh place of greater vantage well beknown to him.