Part 93 (1/2)

”Greeting to thee, my lord Duke of Mortain, and to thy lovely lady wife,” spake a cheery voice, and the speaker, lifting his vizor, behold! it was Sir Benedict. ”I go in mine own armour to-day, Beltane, that haply thy n.o.ble father shall know me in the press. Ha, see where he ordereth his line, 'twas ever so his custom, I mind me--in four columns with archers betwixt. Mark me now lad, I have brought thee here a helm graced with these foolish feathers as is the new fas.h.i.+on--white feathers, see you--that my lady's sweet eyes may follow thee in the affray.”

”For that, dear Benedict,” cried she, ”for that shalt kiss me, so off with thy great helm!” Forthwith Sir Benedict did off his casque, and stooping, kissed her full-lipped, and meeting Beltane's eye, flushed and laughed and was solemn all in a moment.

”Ah, Beltane, dear lad,” quoth he, ”I envy thee and grieve for thee! To possess such a maid to wife--and to leave her--so soon! May G.o.d bring thee safe again to her white arms. Ah, youth is very sweet, lad, and love--true love is youth's fair paradise and--body o' me, there sound our tuckets! See where Ivo formeth his main battle--and yonder he posteth a goodly company to shut us up within the city. So must we wait a while until the battle joins--thy n.o.ble father is wondrous wise in war--O verily he hath seen, behold how he altereth his array! O wise Beltane!”

Now Duke Ivo threw out a screen of archers and hors.e.m.e.n to hara.s.s the powers of Mortain what time he formed his battle in three great companies, a deep and formidable array of knights and men-at-arms whose tall lances rose, a very forest, with pennons and banderols a-flutter in the gentle wind of morning. Far on the left showed the banner of his marshal Sir Bors; above his right battle flew the Raven banner of Sir Pertolepe the Red, and above his main battle rose his own standard-- a black lion on a red field. So mustered he his powers of Pentavalon, gay with stir of pennons and rich trappings; the sun flashed back from ponderous casques and bascinets innumerable and flamed on blazoned s.h.i.+elds. And beholding their might and confident bearing, Beltane clenched nervous hands and his mouth grew hard and grim, so turned he from this formidable host to where, just beyond the woods, his father's banner flew beside the leopards of Mortain. Conspicuous upon his white charger he beheld Duke Beltane, a proud and warlike figure, who sat his stamping war-horse deep in converse with Sir Jocelyn, while behind were the dense ranks of Mortain. Suddenly, Sir Jocelyn wheeled his charger and galloped along Mortain's front, his rich armour glittering, until he halted at the head of that knightly company posted upon the left.

Meantime, Black Ivo's archers advancing, fell into arrow formation and began to ply the Mortain ranks with clouds of shafts and bolts 'neath which divers men and horses fell--what time Black Ivo's ma.s.sed columns moved slowly forward to the attack--yet Duke Beltane, sitting among his knights, stirred not, and the army of Mortain abode very silent and still. But of a sudden Duke Beltane wheeled his horse, his sword flashed on high, whereat trumpets brayed and on the instant Sir Jocelyn wheeled off to the left, he and all his company, and gathering speed began to skirt Duke Ivo's advanced pikemen and archers, and so rode down upon those men of Pentavalon who were drawn up against Belsaye.

Hereupon Black Ivo would have launched a counter-charge to check Sir Jocelyn's attack, but his advanced lines of cross-bowmen and archers hampered him. Once again Duke Beltane's sword flashed up, the first line of Mortain's great array leapt forward and with levelled lances thundered down upon Black Ivo's ranks, scattering and trampling down his archers; but as they checked before the serried pikes behind, forth galloped Duke Beltane's second line and after this a third-- o'erwhelming Ivo's pikemen by their numbers, and bursting over and through their torn ranks, reformed, and, spurring hard, met Ivo's rank with cras.h.i.+ng shock in full career. And, behind this raging battle, Duke Beltane rode at the head of his reserves, keen-eyed and watchful, what time Sir Jocelyn was hotly engaged upon the left, nigh unto the town itself.

”Ah, Beltane!” sighed the d.u.c.h.ess, s.h.i.+vering and covering her face-- ”'tis horrible, horrible--see how they fall!”

”Nay, my brave Fidelis, heed rather how valiant Sir Jocelyn and his knights drive in their advanced lines--ha! Benedict, see how he breaks their array--an he can but turn their flank--”

”Nay, Beltane--yonder cometh the Raven banner where Pertolepe spurreth in support--”

”Aye, but yonder doth my father launch yet another charge--ha!

Benedict, let us out and aid them--the way lieth open beyond the drawbridge an we can but turn Ivo's flank!” quoth Beltane looking ever upon the battle, ”O, methinks the time is now, Benedict!”

With Helen's soft hand a-tremble in his, Beltane hasted down from the tower and Sir Benedict followed, until they were come to the square where, amid the joyful acclaim of the populace, their small and hardy following were drawn up; and, as they came, from townsfolk and soldiery a shout arose:

”Beltane--the Duke--the Duke!”

”My lord Duke of Mortain,” quoth Sir Benedict, ”I and thy company do wait thee to lead us.”

But Beltane smiled and shook his head.

”Not so, my lord of Bourne, thou art so cunning in war and hast led us so valiantly and well--shalt lead us to this battle, the which I pray G.o.d shall be our last! As for me, this day will I march with the foresters--so mount, my lord.”

Hereupon, from foresters, from knights and men-at-arms another shout arose what time Sir Benedict, having knelt to kiss the d.u.c.h.ess Helen's white hand, found it woefully a-tremble.

”Alas, my lady Helen,” said he, ”methinks thine is the harder part this day. G.o.d strengthen thy wifely heart, for G.o.d, methinks, shall yet bring him to thine embrace!” So saying, Sir Benedict mounted and rode to the head of his lances, where flew his banner. ”Unbar the gates!” he cried. And presently the great gates of Belsaye town swung wide, the portcullis clanked up, the drawbridge fell, and thus afar off they beheld where, 'mid swirling dust-cloud the battle raged fierce and fell.

And behold a sorry wight who hobbled toward them on a crutch, so begirt and bandaged that little was to see of him but bright eyes.

”O Sir Hacon!” cried the d.u.c.h.ess, ”did I not bid thee to thy bed?”

”Why truly, dear my lady, but since I may not go forth myself, fain would I see my good comrades ride into the battle--faith, methinks I might yet couch a lance but for fear of this thy n.o.ble lady, my lord Beltane--aye me, this shall be a dismal day for me, methinks!”

”Nay, then I will keep thee company, good Sir Hacon!” smiled the d.u.c.h.ess a little tremulously, ”shalt watch with me from the bartizan and tell me how the day goeth with us.”

And now Sir Benedict lifted aloft his lance, the trumpet sounded, and with ring and tramp he with his six hundred knights and men-at-arms rode forth of the market-square, clattering through the narrow street, thundering over the drawbridge, and, forming in the open, spurred away into the battle.

Then Beltane sighed, and kneeling, kissed his lady's white hands:

”Beloved,” spake he low-voiced, ”e'en now must I go from thee, but howsoever fortune tend--thine am I through life--aye, and beyond.”

”Beltane,” she whispered 'twixt quivering lips, ”O loved Beltane, take heed to thy dear body, cover thee well with thy s.h.i.+eld since thy hurts are my hurts henceforth and with thee thou dost bear my heart--O risk not my heart to death without good cause!” So she bent and kissed him on the brow: but when he would have risen, stayed him. ”Wait, my lord!”

she whispered and turning, beckoned to one behind her, and lo! Genevra came forward bearing a blue banner.