CHAPTER XXIII
Deep night. Over the castle Pegasus, over town southward the Eagle,walking down the west the Ploughman, low in the southwest the Scorpion,due south the Archer, on the meridian the Lyre.
Deep night in prison. Morgen Fay waked. “What use in sleeping? I shalldo no work to-morrow.”
Memory. For some ease, take Memory by the hand, but go with her intoold countries, not into those near at hand! She remembered a forestlike to Wander forest, and she remembered an ocean with shells upon thebeach. So cool the air, and the water going over her, cool, cool andrestful! She remembered music.
Once a grey-beard begging friar had told her that all things that everwere or are or can be were but parts of music. “Listen, and you willhear! Gather the notes and make them into strains. Put the strainstogether--you will begin to have a notion! When you have lived longenough you will come to hear the strains made of strains and how theycombine. All the jangle is imperfect music, music finding itself--”
Music. So it was all music? A long way to-night to where you might seethat!
Dancing. Once it had come to her herself, watching sunbeams and somenodding, waving trees and a long ripple over wheat, and feeling a windthat kept measure, that dancing was somehow a great and sweet ideaof some great Gayheart. “Shall I dance in prison and hear music, andto-morrow flying this way?”
Love. What is that?
She thought. “I have never seen it. I know it not. Perhaps for gardenand Ailsa and little white rose tree. Ah, yes! But I have loved my way,and fire on my hearth and wine on my table. Now I will have enough offire, and there is a wine they say of wrath. Love--love! What is it,Morgen Fay? If there be such a country I shall not see it. Where do yougo to-morrow, Morgen Fay, and what anguish in the going?”
“O God, O my God, make wider the little passage between me and thee!”
So dark--so dark. Night and night and night!
A little noise at the door, but not like Godfrey’s hand. She sat up,being near the door, the place was so small. Stealthily, stealthily, asliding noise. She felt the door open and rose to her knees. “Who’sthere?”
“Friends! Don’t make any noise.” One came in at the door and touchedher. “Morgen, it is Thomas Bettany. You are willing to follow me? Thencome at once.”
She rose and followed. The door was shut behind her. The second man,stooping, turned the key and withdrew it. A little way down thepassage with no more noise than moths--door of inner ward--through it,too, turn key and take out, find cross passage. The second man whohad not spoken held the least, small light. A cresset, too, burneddimly, swinging from a beam. A man lay sleeping by the wall,--Diggory,Godfrey’s helper. It seemed that he was sleeping soundly. A turn, awider space, and the great door and William sleeping upon a bench.Open, great door. Light showed a chain and a staple broken out ofwall--open! Out of prison. Starlight--the street--soft and swift likemoth and bat. Lanterns and footsteps of the watch. Press into angle ofSaint Ethelred’s porch and cease to breathe while they go by! Avoidmarket place, cross High Street, softly, swiftly; find Saint Swithin’sStreet, narrow, steeply descending toward the river. River in theears, and the old disused water steps, and beside them a boat. ThomasBettany’s voice saying, “_Gold and silver_,” and the man in the boatanswering, “_Gold and silver in the Vineyard._ Step ye in!”
Down the river, and by the house of Morgen Fay and into the widening ofwater that was called the Pool.
There were but three men, Bettany and the man with him and he who hadheld the boat and who was called Diccon. The man who had opened doorssat very silent. But so were all, saying nothing, rowing silently. AndMorgen Fay was still, still! Oh, the divine night air and the stars andthe cool water, cool and singing! A ship rose before them. It seemedthey were going there.
Thomas spoke to her. “Your name is Alice now, not Morgen. Remember!Alice--Alice Dawn. This ship is the _Vineyard_ and it touches at threeports. You will be safely put ashore, and here is gold.” A purse slidinto her lap.
Ecstacy of freedom, air and the stars. Alice--Alice Dawn! She put herforehead upon her knees and laughed. “Oh, all of you, what will you_not_ see to-morrow! Now you have your miracle!”
The ship coming closer and closer, a tall ship and making ready tosail. “Whither? And will I find Ailsa?”
“I cannot tell as to that. Diccon Wright, the master there, is ahelpful man. And the Saints are above us. I do not fully know,” saidThomas under breath, “what I have done!”
The ship came near. “Ah, how dark it was in prison! Thank you and blessyou!”
Andromeda lay across the northeast, the Crown was in the west, the Swanoverhead. “Ship oars,” said Diccon. “Here we are!”
“You quit me now, Thomas?”
“Aye. I must be at home and in bed if there come any calling!”
“Are you endangered?”
“No! They will call it again the devil. Where all have tender hands heis the best one to pull the nuts from the fire!”
“Good-by, then. I shall bless you every day and it shall not hurt you!”
“I never thought that it would, Morgen Fay.”
“No. Thou’rt clean! Good-by, good-by, good-by!”
The ship overhung them,--bowsprit and carved sea goddess, body of shipand high forecastle, masts, spars and rigging. And the stars shonebetween, and men were up there making sail among the stars, and all theair sang around and the water sang. Morgen Fay had her own courage. Itwas coming to her from far and near. She felt like a child. Somethingin her was crumbling away, or something within her, after long groping,was painfully lifting itself into higher air. “_I have tasted evil, Ihave tasted good; I like better the last taste._”
The rowers ceased to row. A rope was flung, a manner of ladder of ropeslipped over the side. Master of the _Vineyard_ and Thomas Bettanyspoke low together, then the former mounted to his ship. “Now, AliceDawn--God bless you!”
“God bless you.”
She was light and strong. She climbed, she stood in the waist of the_Vineyard_ and turning herself, looked to see the boat put off withtwo. But the rower who had not spoken, the man who had been silent instreet and lane, who had opened doors silently in prison, was climbingfrom boat to _Vineyard_ deck. Light from a lantern by the mast fellupon him. Burgher’s dress, cap of blue, young beard of brown-gold uponhis face. “Where?--where?”
Bodily there rose before her the cell at Silver Cross and all thesudden lights, coloured by some old secret device, that bloomed abouther and her floating drapery, and this man upon his knees. With a cryshe turned to the boat. Two seamen had descended in Diccon’s place. Itwas _Vineyard_ boat, it would put Bettany ashore and return, and noboatmen at the main water steps have any tale to tell. Already the boatwas away from the ship. “Friend! friend!”
Richard Englefield stood beside her. “He cannot return, nor help usfurther, Morgen!”