CHAPTER XIV
"So, some time, when the last of all our evenings Crowneth memorially the last of all our days, Not loth to take his poppies, man goes down and says: '_Sufficient for the day were the day's evil things_.'"
Free will, warring with fate, produces Tragedy, so it is said. To-day,we have lost much of the significance of the old "[Greek: tragodia]."When the priest poets Tyrtaeus and AEschylus clamorously exalted--heldhigh that all might see--the Godhead of men who fight and do, it was notso much the tragedy itself, but the circumstances that made it whichinspired men's hearts.
"Free will warring with Fate"--it was the clash of that fine battle,which those old Greeks found significant and uplifting.
For a moment let us look into this so seeming-piteous a one of ours, onwhich soon the iron curtain is resonantly to fall.
It is a hard, stern story this of our poor serf. The rebel lifted hishand against an established force. For that he perished in bitteragony. But, going so soon to his death, he shows us a Man in spite ofall his woes. And we can be uplifted in contemplating that. It is Hyla'smessage to us no less than to his scarred brethren on the castle hill.
The Lord of Hilgay could maim and kill his body, but the Manhood in himwas a flame unquenchable, and burnt a mark upon his age. The clash ofhis battle rings through centuries.
His doings sowed a seed, and we ourselves sit to-day in that greatblood-nourished tree of Freedom which sprang therefrom.
* * * * *
The stars that night were singularly bright and vivid. The sky waspowdered with a dust of light, among which the greater stars burned likelamps.
Below that glorious canopy Hyla lay in an uneasy sleep. Every now andthen he awoke, chilled to the bone. Though the stars were all so clearand bright they seemed very remote from this world and all its business,as he looked up with staring, miserable eyes. Hyla believed, as littlechildren in Spain are taught to this day, that the stars were butchinks, holes, and gaps in the floor of heaven itself. He thought theirbright white light but an overflow of the great white radiance of God'sHome.
That comforted him but little as he lay cold and hungry in the swamp.Indeed it was easier to pray in the day-time, when even a hint of heavenwas absent. The enormous radiance was so remote in its splendour. Itaccentuated his forlorn and forgotten state.
He was lying but a few yards from the edge of the broad pool whichbarred his progress, and as the hours wore on and the stars paled, theblackness of the water became grey and tremulous.
It was nearing dawn, though the sun had not yet risen, when he thoughthe saw a red flicker in the mist which lay over the lagoon. It was tooruddy and full-coloured for a marsh light, and his hopes leapt up, halfdoubting, at the sight. In a moment or two, the light became plainer,and he knew he was not deceived. The thing was real. It advanced towardshim, and seemed like a torch.
He sent a husky shout out over the water. Whether the light betokenedadvance of friend or foe he did not know or care.
No answer came to his call, but he saw the red light become stationaryimmediately, and cease to flicker.
He shouted again louder than before, standing up on the rotting log, andfilling his lungs with air. An answering voice came out of the mist atthis, and the light moved again.
And now the grey waste began to tremble with light. The sun was rising,and at the first hint of his approach, the mists began to sway anddissolve.
Coming straight towards the bank, Hyla saw a fen punt urged by a tall,thin man dressed in skins like a serf. He used the long pole with skill,and seemed thoroughly at home in the management of his boat.
About six yards from the shore, he dug his pole deep down and checkedthe motion of the punt. Hyla waded down among the mud as far as wassafe, and hailed him. "For the love of God, sir," he said, "take me fromthis swamp."
The stranger regarded him fixedly for a moment, without answering. Thenhe spoke in a slow, deliberate, but resonant voice.
"Who are you? How have you come here in this waste? I thought no mancould come where you are."
"I am starving for food," said Hyla, "and like to die in the marsh anyou do not take me in your boat. I am of Icomb, thrall to the Prior SirRichard. The Lord of Hilgay's men took me and another who lies dead inthe swamp. They were upon the big lake when the boat upset, and all weredrowned save one. He has got him back to the castle, and I am journeyingto Icomb, if perchance I may come there safely."
"You tell of strange things," said the tall man, "and I will presentlyask you more of them. Now hearken. I am not one of those who give,taking nothing in return. I will take you safe back to the Fathers, andfeed you with food. But for three days you must labour for me in workthat waits to be done in my field. I need a man's arm."
"For a week. If by that you will save me from this."
"So be it," said the tall man with great promptness. "You shall work fora week, and then I will take you to Icomb."
With that he loosened the dripping pole, drove it again into the water,and the nose of the punt glided up to Hyla.
He clambered carefully on board, and sat dripping.
"I have no food here," said the man, "for I live hard by, and did butcome out to look at some lines I set down overnight, but we shall soonbe there."
As he spoke he was poling vigorously, and they were already half wayover the pool.
As they neared the opposite shore, Hyla saw the reeds grew to a greatheight above them, forming a thick screen with apparently an unbrokenface. But he knew that suddenly they would come upon an opening whichwould be quite imperceptible to the ordinary eye, and so it proved.
With a sure hand the stranger sent the bows at a break but a yard widein the reeds. The punt went hissing through the narrow passage, pushingthe reeds aside for a moment, only that they should spring back againafter its passage. A few yards through the thick growth brought theminto a circular pool or basin. This also was surrounded with reeds whichtowered up into the air. It was very small in diameter, and floating onits placid black water was like being at the bottom of a jar.
The place was full of the earliest sunlights and busy with the newlyawakened life of the fen.
But what arrested the serf's immediate attention was a curious structureat the far side of the pool. It resembled nothing so much as a smallhouse-boat. A wooden hut had been built upon a floating platform oftimber, and the whole was moored to a stout pile which projected somethree feet from the water.
A fire smouldered on the deck in front of the hut, and a cooking pothung over it by a chain.
"This is my home," said the man, pointing towards the raft. "Where I goI take my house with me, and ask no man's leave. I have lived on thispool for near two years now."
They landed on the raft.
"Now you shall fill your belly, Sir Wanderer," said the man, "and then Iwill hear more of you. Here is a mess of hare, marsh quail, and herbs.It's fit for a lord eke a thrall, for I see you wear a thrall's collar.Here is a wooden bowl, fill it, and so thyself."
He came out of the cabin with two rough wooden bowls, which he dippedand filled in the cauldron.
Then for a space, while the sun rode up the sky, there was no soundheard but the feeding of hungry men.
Hyla began to feel the blood moving in him once more, and the strengthof manhood returning. The sun shone on his chilled limbs and warmedthem, the night was over.
At the finish of the meal the tall man turned on him suddenly andwithout preparation. "How should Hyla of the long arms, thrall ofGeoffroi de la Bourne, be making his way to Richard Espec? Has the devilthen made friends with Holy Church? Is Geoffroi about to profess for amonk?"
Hyla stared at him stupidly with open mouth, and swift fear began toknock at his heart.
"I doubt me there is something strange here," said the tall man, with asudden bark of anger. "There is something black here, my good rogue. Ipray you throw a little light upon this. If ever I saw a man with fearwrit upon him you are that man, Hyla
. I beg leave to think there areothers of you not far away! There are more from Hilgay about us in thefen."
Hyla glanced hurriedly round the quiet little pool. "Where? where?" hesaid in a tone of unmistakable terror. "Have you seen them, then? Arethey in wait to take me?"
The other looked at him with a long searching glance for near a minute.
"We two be at a tangle," he said at length. "You are in flight, then,from the Hilgay men?"
"For my life," said Hyla.
"Then you and I are in one boat, Hyla, as it is said. I doubted that youhad come against me just now. So they are after you? Have you beenkilling game in the forest or stealing corn?"
"It was game," said Hyla quickly; "big game," he added in an uneasyafterward.
There was silence for a minute. The long, lean man seemed turning oversomething in his mind.
"So you got to Icomb for sanctuary," he said slowly. "And Geoffroi senthis men after you. It is a long way through the fen to go after onethrall. And also they say Lord Roger Bigot is going to Hilgay with agreat host. It is unlike Geoffroi de la Bourne to waste men hunting fora serf at such a time. He is growing old and foolish."
Hyla glanced at him quickly. He knew by the man's mocking tone that hewas disbelieved. Hyla was but a poor liar.
"Then you know Lord Geoffroi?" he said, stumbling woefully over thewords.
"I know him," said the man slowly. "I am well acquainted with that lord,though it is eight years since we have met." Suddenly his voice rose,though he seemed to be trying to control it. "God curse him!" he criedin a hoarse scream; "will the devil never go to his own place!"
Hyla started eagerly. The man's passion was so extreme, his curse was soreal and full of bitter hatred that an avowal trembled on his lips.
The other gave him the cue for it.
"Come, man," he said briskly, resuming his ordinary voice; "you arekeeping something. Tell out straight to one who knows you and Gruachalso--does that surprise you? There are no friends of the house ofBourne here. What is it, what hast done?"
"Killed him," said Hyla shortly.
"Splendeur dex!" said the man in a fierce whisper. His face worked, hiseyes became prominent, he trembled all over with excitement, like ahunting dog scenting a quarry while in the leash.
Then he burst out into a torrent of questions in French, the foreignwords tumbling over each other in his eagerness.
Hyla knew nothing of what he said, for he had no French. Seeing hislook of astonishment, the man recovered himself. "I forgot for amoment," he said, "who you were. Now thank God for this news! So, youhave killed him! At last! At last! How and why? Say quickly."
Hyla told him in a few words all the story.
"And who are you, then?" he said, when he had done.
"I call myself Lisole to the few that I meet in the fen. But agone I hadanother name. Come and see."
He took Hyla by the arm and led him into the cabin. It was a comfortablelittle shelter. A couch of skins ran down one side, and above it wereshelves covered with pots, pans, tools, and fishing gear. A longyew-bow stood in one corner among a few spears. An arbalist lay upon awooden chest. Light came into the place through a window covered withoiled sheep-skin stretched upon a sliding frame. In one corner was aniron fire-pan for use in winter, and a hollow shaft of wood above itwent through the roof in a kind of chimney.
The place was a palace to Hyla's notions. No serf had such a home. Thecabin was crowded with possessions. Unconsciously Hyla began to speakwith deference to this owner of so much.
"See here," said the man. At the end of the cabin was a broad shelfpainted in red, with a touch of gilding. A thick candle of fat with asmall wick, which gave a tiny glimmer of light, was burning in an ironstand. In the wall behind, was a little doorless cupboard, or alcove, inwhich was a small box of dark wood, heavily bound round with iron bands.At the back of the alcove a cap of parti-coloured red and yellow wasnailed to the wall.
The man who called himself Lisole lifted the box from the alcovecarefully, and as he did so the edge touched a bell on the end of thepointed cap. It tinkled musically.
Hyla crossed himself, for the place he saw was a shrine, and theiron-bound coffer held the relic of some saint.
"On this day," said the man, "I will show you what no other eyes thanmine have seen for eight long, lonely years. I doubt nothing but that itis God His guidance that has brought you here to this place. For to youmore than all other men this sight is due."
So saying, he fumbled in his coat, and pulled therefrom a key, whichhung round his neck upon a cord of twisted gut.
He opened the box and drew several objects from it. One was a great lockof nut-brown hair, full three feet long, as soft and fine as spun silk.Another was a ring of gold, in which a red stone shone darkly in thecandle-light. There were one or two pieces of embroidered work, half thedesign being uncompleted, and there was a Christ of silver on a cross ofdark wood.
"They were Isoult's," said the man in a hushed voice.
"Isoult la Guerisseur?" said Hyla.
"Isoult, the Healer."
"Then you who are called Lisole----?"
"Was once Lerailleur, whose jesting died eight years ago. It was buriedin Her grave."
"God and Our Lady give her peace," said Hyla, crossing himself. "See youthis scar on my arm? A shaft went through it in the big wood. HenryMontdefeu was hunting with Lord Geoffroi. I was beating in theundergrowth, and a chance shaft came my way. La Guerisseur bound it upwith a mess of hot crushed leaves and a linen strip. In a week I waswhole. That was near ten years ago."
"You knew me not?"
"Nor ever should have known hadst not told me. Your hair it is as whiteas snow, your face has fallen in and full of lines, aye, and your voiceis not the voice that sang in the hall in those days."
"Ah, now I am Lisole. But thank God for this day. I can wait the endquiet now. So you have killed him! Know you that I also tried? I was notbold as you have been. I tried with poison, and then fled away by night.I took the poppy seeds--_les pavois_--and brewed them, and put the juicein his drink. But I heard of him not long after as well and strong, so Iknew it was not to be. I never knew how I failed."
"I can tell you that," said Hyla, "it was common talk. Lord Geoffroiwent to his chamber in Outfangthef Tower drunken after dinner in thehall. Dom Anselm led him there, and the priest was sober that night, or'twould have been Geoffroi's last. On the table was his night-draught ofmorat in which you had put the poison. Geoffroi drank a long pull, andthen fell on the bed and lay sleeping heavy among the straw. Dom Anselm,being thirsty, did go to take a pull at the morat, but had scarce putlip to it when the taste or smell told him what it was. Hast been achirurgeon, they do say, and knoweth simples as I the fen-lands. So heran for oil and salt, and poureth them into Geoffroi until he vomitedthe poison. But for two days after that he was deadly sick and couldhold no food. I mind well they searched the forest lands for you and ekethe fen, but found not."
"Aye, I fled too swiftly and too far for such as they. It takes wit tobe a fool, and they being not fools but men-at-arms had no cunning suchas mine. I built this house of mine with wood from Icomb, and have livedupon the waters this many a year."
"Ever alone and without speech of men?"
"Not so. Sometimes I get me to Mass at Icomb, and I am well with themonks. And sometimes they bring a sick brother to this place to touchthis hair and cross, and be cured. For know, Hyla, that my wife, ahealer in her life, still heals by favour of Saint Mary, being gone fromthis sad world and with Lord Christ in heaven. The Fathers would have mebring these relics to Icomb there to be enshrined, and I to professmyself a monk. Often have they sent messengers to persuade me. But Iwould not go while He was living, for I could not live God's lifehating him so. But now perchance I shall go. It will bear thinking of."
They knelt down before the lock of hair and the crucifix and prayedsilently.
It was a strange meeting. This man Lerailleur had been buffoon toGeoffroi, and had come with him f
rom Normandy. His wife, Isoult, was asweet simple dame, so fragrant and so pure that all the world loved her.She was a strangely successful nurse and doctor, and knew much of herbs.In those simple times her cures were thought miraculous, and she wasvenerated. The jester, a grave and melancholy man when notprofessionally employed, thought her a saint, and loved her dearly. Nowone winter night, Lord Geoffroi being, as was his wont, very drunk, setout from his feasting in the hall to seek sleep in his bed-chamber.
Isoult had been watching by the side of a woman--wife to one of themen-at-arms--who was brought to bed in child-birth. She crossed thecourtyard to her own apartment, in front of Geoffroi de la Bourne. He,being mad with drink, thought he saw some phantom, and drew his dagger.With a shout he rushed upon the lady, and soon she lay bleeding hersweet life away upon the frosty ground.
They buried her with great pomp and few dry eyes, and Geoffroi paid formany Masses, while Lerailleur bided his time. The rest we have heard.
Hyla and Lisole sat gravely together on the deck of the boat. The relicswere put away in their shrine.
Neither said much for several hours, the thoughts of both were grave andsad, and yet not wholly without comfort.
They seemed to see God's hand in all this. There was something fearfuland yet sweet in their hearts. So Sintram felt when he had riddenthrough the weird valley and heard Rolf singing psalms.
The "midsummer hum"--in Norfolk they call the monotone of summer insectlife by that name--lulled and soothed them. There was peace in that deepand secret hiding-place.
In the afternoon they broiled some firm white fish and made anothermeal. "Come and see my field," said Lisole afterwards.
They got into the small punt and followed a narrow way through thereeds, going away from the wide stretch of water on the further shoreof which they had first met. At a shelving turfy shore they disembarked.
Climbing up a bank they came suddenly upon three acres of ripening corn,a strange and pastoral sight in that wilderness. Small dykes coveredwith bright water-flowers ran through the field dividing it into smallsquares. It was thoroughly drained, and a rich crop.
"All my own work, Hyla," said the ex-jester, with no inconsiderablepride in his voice. "I delved the ditches and got all the water out ofthe land. Then I burnt dried reeds over it, and mixed the ashes with thesoil for a manure. Then I sowed my wheat, and it is bread, white bread,all the year round for me. I flail and winnow, grind and bake, and noman helps me. The monks would lend me a thrall to help, but I said no. Iam happier alone, La Guerisseur seems nearer then. I have other thingsto show you, but not here. Let us go back to home first. To-day is aholiday, and you also need rest."
When the moon rose and the big fishes were leaping out of the water withresonant echoing splashes in the dusk, they were still sitting on thedeck of the boat in calm contemplation.
They spoke but little, revolving memories. Now and then the jester madesome remark reminiscent of old dead days, and Hyla capped it withanother.
About ten o'clock, or perhaps a little later, a long, low whistle cameover the water to them, in waves of tremulous sound. Lisole jumped upand loosened the painter of the punt. "It's one of the monks," he said;"now and again they come to me at night time."
Hyla waited as the punt shot off into the alternation of silver lightand velvet shadow. Before long he heard voices coming near, and thesplash of the pole. It was a monk from Icomb, a ruddy, black-eyed,thick-set man. His coracle was towed behind the punt.
He greeted the serf with a "benedicite," and told him that Lisole hadgiven him the outlines of his story.
"Anon, my son," said he, "you shall go back with me to peace. Wethought, indeed, that you had left us with the thrall Cerdic, and wewere not pleased. Your wife and daughter have been in a rare way, sothey tell me."
For long hours, as Hyla fell asleep covered with a skin upon the deck,he heard the low voices of the monk and his host in the cabin. It was asoothing monotone in the night silence.
In the morning Lisole came to him and woke him. "The father and I havetalked the night through," he said, "and soon I leave my home for Icomb.'Twill be better so. We will start anon. It is hard parting, even withthis small dwelling, but it is Godys will, I do not doubt."