CHAPTER XVII
When upon his knees he had come most close to her, when she felt hishands, his brow, his breathing against her sandalled feet, she hadgiven back in a kind of terror. Then, all unluckiness!
Flying, she had dropped her mantle. Brother Norbert, Brother Anselm andtheir terrified white faces! Brother Anselm coming after her, out ofthe cell, down the stone passage. Another coming after, great torch inhis hand, smoke and flame streaming backward his face like Death andJudgment! Brother Anselm’s breathing on her cheek, his hand seizing,pushing her, who needed no urging, for now she knew panic.
The outward-giving porter’s cell that they used--the door, quick!Through, clap it to behind, draw bolt across--opposite door, quick!Short passage again, the little postern. Anselm had the key, BrotherEdward the porter sleeping elsewhere this night. Open--open! Morgen Fayknew agony until she saw the stars over Abbey orchard.
Wall and the ivy tods which made no ladder necessary. Up! and on widewall-top rest a moment, breathe and look back. Bell was ringing,lights hurried here, hurried there in Abbey, but the orchard betweenlay still, at peace and bathed in moonlight. Down the wall on forestside, where footholds had been cunningly made. Brother Anselm spoke. “Iwill work them over so that even they cannot be found.”
“Through the poplar wood there is a path,” she said. “Go back, and Iwill run alone to the ruined farm. Never--never--never more, MorgenFay!”
They spoke in whispers. “Aye, it is better. God knoweth what trouble weshall have now! But you, mistress, you will be dumb?”
“Oh, aye! All night, on pallet, under eaves, in the ruined farm, I wasstretched so fast asleep! I dreamed only of my house by the river andmy garden where now are blooming pinks and marigold!”
“Better that than dream of red flame!” said Anselm. “Haste now!”
He slipped back over the wall; she was in poplar wood.
The moon shone so that she could find her way. Thin wood gave intodeep wood, beech, oak. Her feet felt the slight path. A doe and fawnstarted from her, hare bounded across, owl hooted, moon shone and lightwas beaten by branch and leaf into thousands and thousands of silverpieces. She ran; she felt drunken.
There was near a league to go. Her pace slowed, she stood drawinghard breath, then went on again but not running. None were after her;she heard none after her. Here clung darkness, or cold, mysterious,shifting light. The air hung cool, very still, with faint fragrances.Her mind had wings, great dark ones, and now it beat in the passagesand cells of Silver Cross, and now at the ruined farm, and now aboutand through Somerville Hall. It went also to Middle Forest and intoMontjoy’s castle. Back it beat to the ruined farm, and Somervilleto-morrow, in this wood, and then London road. London road! No doubtnow. London road! Her mind sought London town, but that hung distasted,weary, drear and threatening. “O Morgen, why so? Will there not beMontjoys and Somervilles there--aye, greater ones. Mayhap princelyones!” But she hated London road and London town. “Oh, what are thehands that hold me here--cannot hold but would hold!” To-morrow,to-morrow, next day at latest, London road, London road!
Going through the dark wood, she no longer felt panic. Perhaps it wasso and perhaps it was not so that all Silver Cross was roused, thosewho knew and those who did not know. She knew that not twenty theredid know; and at first she had felt the hands of all those others, theguiltless, upon her, against her. Almost she had felt their stoning.But those who knew were foxes and serpents,--cunning, cunning! Theywould provide safety for themselves and so for her, too, bound in thesame bundle with them. “With the foxes and serpents,” she thought.
Now she walked steadily, about her mighty trees, overhead the moon, inher ears the million small forest tongues, in her nostril the smell offern. The night did not terrify her, she was warm in her frieze cloak.She saw the ruined farm sunk in dimness and sleep. By the outside stairshe would creep up to her room, Joan the serving-woman, so negligible asoul. To-morrow would come Somerville. Morgen Fay, so negligible a soul.
A voice went through her. “Who neglecteth? Soul, soul, who neglecteth?”
She would not answer. She ran again under the moon, upon the forestpath.
Forest broke away. The ruined farm all in the moonlight and Margery andDavid sleeping like the long dead. The long dead--the long dead. “Am Ithe long dead?”
She crept up the stair and as she did so the cock was crowing. Herewas loft chamber, here straw bed cleanly covered. Frieze cloak dropped,her body stood in moonlight, dressed in the colours and the fashion ofthe great picture. Morgen Fay took off the raiment and folded it andlaid it upon the bench under the window. “As soon as it is light I willburn it.” She felt fatigue, overpowering, extreme, and dropped upon thebed and drew over her the cover and hid her face from the moonlight inher arms, in her hair.
But at first light she stood up. One might not sleep this morning, notyet! She put on her dress of serving-woman, took up the raiment fromthe bench, made it into a small bundle, covered it with her friezecloak and went down the stair. Margrey and David stirred in theirpart of the house. She heard them talking, the woman screaming to theman who was deaf. A tall, blooming lilac stood by the beehives. Hereshe hid her bundle, went and returned with a brand from the hearth,shielded in an earthenware pitcher. Taking it up again, she boreall away from the house into stony field. Thorn trees springing uppresently hid her and her ways from the house. Here, in a corner was aflat, hearth-like space. She gathered dead twigs, took her brand fromthe pitcher and made fire. She opened the bundle and piece by pieceburned all, then with a thorn bough scattered the ashes. Mantle andveil had been left in Norbert’s cell. “Fire there, too, last night,”she thought. “Hiding fire, cleansing fire.”
At the house door Margery cried to her, “Have you baked the cakes anddrawn the ale? Or have you been to Fairies’ Hill? There’s a witchedlook about you!”
She worked an hour and then another while Margery watched and grumbled,then when the old woman’s back was turned away she slipped. “Joan!Joan!” But she was gone to wood of beech and oak and ash. Somervillemust come soon, oh, no doubt of it!
Oak and beech and ash wore the freshest green. Underneath spreadgrasses and flowers. The sun came down in a golden dust, birds sang,bees hummed, air held still and fine. She sat and nursed her knees, orturning stretched fair body of Morgen Fay on summer earth. He did notcome, Somerville did not come. So weary was she that she slept for awhile. Waking, she found the sun at noon. She must go back to the houseand hear if anything had been heard. Nothing! it might as well havebeen in dreamland, a thousand, thousand leagues from Wander side.
She sat at the table with David and Margery, drank ale and broke bread.The two quarrelled weakly, faded leaves on the edge of winter. Shefelt suddenly that it was so with all things. As though it were thegreatest cloud that ever she had met or had dreamed, as though it werenight that made other nights light, blackness rolled over her. Sherose, pushed back her stool and quit the house. Certes, the sun shone.It made no difference; she was night, night! Her feet took her to thewood, anywhere, anywhere! She must have movement. But night, night, andhorror of the spirit. She groaned, she flung herself down under an oakand pressed her forehead to its great root. She was leaf that had leftthe tree, whirling down.
Blackness, emptiness, nothingness--but not peace, no! The end, MorgenFay, the end, the end!
It seemed to her that she swooned, and that then she came again. Nowthere was evil grey, but grey.
It seemed to her that she put out her hand and that it closed upon arobe. It seemed to her that she put her forehead to this. She said,“Mother!” It seemed to her that hands came down to her and touched her,that there was a breathing, that a voice said, “O Thyself!”
She lay against trees in darkness and in ache.
Somerville found her here. “Asleep? Art asleep?”
She sat up. “No. Awake. I have done a villain thing.”
He regarded her with his odd, twitching face, somewhat pale to-day, andthe smile a dry gr
imace. “If thou hast so, thou art like to pay for it!All came out. Your monk broke cloister and told it at town cross.”
“Yea, did he? He has manhood.”
“There was all town to hear. Father Edmund tossed thy name forth like aball.”
She moistened her lips. “So?”
“Then the monk told it in castle hall. Montjoy believed.”
“Believed it of me? Well, I did it.”
“Then arrive Abbot Mark and Prior Matthew, riding hard from SilverCross. Now comes about the strangest thing. I doff my cap, I lout myknee to Westforest!”
He told. She drew hard breath, then broke into terrible laughter.“So, the monk is in the madhouse and they drive a stake for me bytown cross? But the Abbot and the Prior and the crew that worked forthem, and Sir Robert Somerville--oh, have you no little penance at all?Must be that you are to say a hundred paternosters or give a tall waxcandle! Nothing? Scot free? If they take me, I will tell!”
“If you do, it does you no good nor them any harm! Prior Matthewusually spins without a fault.”
“‘Us,’ Rob! Does ‘us’ no harm!”
He jerked his shoulders. “‘Us’ then. I was at home. Thomas Bettanybrought me all this two hours agone. I came as soon as I could thinkit out. Search is up already, Morgen! They course here and they coursethere. Presently the ruined farm. I run high danger, standing talkinghere.”
“Begone, then! Quick, Rob, quick!”
Somerville turned red under her tone. “Naturally, I am all thy care!Thou bitter witch!”
“Didst ever burn thy finger? It is not pleasant to burn finger. Well,now, counsel!”
“Counsel is to hide as deep and as soon as may be.”
“Where?”
“I thought of those thick alders by Wander brook--a mile of them. Ifyou lie close to the ground, and they have not dogs--”
“Dogs!”
“If search sweeps over, not finding, then to-night a wagon filled withstraw will cross Wander brook at the old bridge, going Londonward. Thisis all that I can do. I do no more, by all the Saints!”
“Why,” she said, “I do not after all wish thee to burn beside me!Alders by Wander brook.”
He said, “Hark!” raising his hand.
They heard it, distant rout of voices. “Go!” he said. “Run! No time forlove-parting! I must return to the Hall.”
“I wish no love-parting!” she answered. “That is dead. Butfarewell--farewell, Rob! Now you go to the Hall but I to Wander brook.”
He was listening. “They come louder!” When he turned his head, shewas gone. He saw her brown dress beyond ash stem and bough; now shewas deep in fern. He heard her movement, then silence. Still a browngleam, then that vanished. He stood still, he put hands to face anddrew a breath deep and long, then turning he walked rapidly throughthe forest to his park and his hall. The ruined farm he had alreadyvisited. David and Margery had their word. “A serving-wench? Yes, theyhad had one--Joan. Country from toward Minchester. But she was gone--ase’ennight since.” Somerville had climbed the steps into the loft room.Little was here of Joan or Morgen Fay. But what was, he himself hadcarried and given to hearth flame. There was one thing, a rose tree ina great crock, and this most carefully he had destroyed.
Now, walking fast toward Somerville Hall, he thought, “Have you donewickedly, knight? Why, not so wickedly! A little here, a little there,but no great amount anywhere. Even chance, they may not beat thealders.” He made for himself a picture of London and a little house bythe Thames, and Robert Somerville coming to its door, it opening andAilsa saying, “Why, enter, knight! Flowers and candles and wine--”
Morgen Fay crouched among rushes, beneath alders at the edge of awide brook. It was still and sunny, warm, the water singing drowsily.Two dragon flies in blue mail. The reeds met over her head; it wasstill as creation dawn. A trout leaped, clouds sailed overhead,blue sky returned, vast, shining, deep as forever. A butterfly andthe dragon flies, a small tortoise among reeds, a blackbird in thealders,--stillness, stillness, sun, remoteness. Her muscles relaxed.She thought, “Oh, after all--”
Then came the voices. She cowered, lay flat, looking only with terrorto see if she made chasm in the reeds. They waved above her. “Oh,perhaps--perhaps--” She prayed. Then she heard the dogs, and theyopened cry. She heard a shout, “They’ve got her!” and as they camewith great bounds she rose from among the reeds. She would have run,but could not. She raised her voice, “Call off the dogs, and I willcome to you!”