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+<title>The Wood Beyond the World</title>
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+<h2>
+<a href="#startoftext">The Wood Beyond the World, by William Morris</a>
+</h2>
+<pre>
+The Project Gutenberg eBook, The Wood Beyond the World, by William Morris
+
+
+This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with
+almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or
+re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included
+with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org
+
+
+
+
+
+Title: The Wood Beyond the World
+
+
+Author: William Morris
+
+
+
+Release Date: May 1, 2007 [eBook #3055]
+
+Language: English
+
+Character set encoding: ISO-646-US (US-ASCII)
+
+
+***START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE WOOD BEYOND THE WORLD***
+</pre>
+<p><a name="startoftext"></a></p>
+<p>Transcribed from the 1913 Longmans, Green, and Co. edition by
+David Price, email ccx074@pglaf.org</p>
+<h1>THE WOOD BEYOND THE WORLD</h1>
+<p style="text-align: center">BY WILLIAM MORRIS</p>
+<p style="text-align: center"><span class="smcap">pocket
+edition</span></p>
+<p style="text-align: center">LONGMANS, GREEN AND CO.<br />
+<span class="smcap">39 paternoster row</span>, <span
+class="smcap">london</span><br />
+<span class="smcap">new york</span>, <span
+class="smcap">bombay</span>, <span class="smcap">and
+calcutta</span><br />
+1913</p>
+<h2>CHAPTER I: OF GOLDEN WALTER AND HIS FATHER</h2>
+<p>Awhile ago there was a young man dwelling in a great and
+goodly city by the sea which had to name Langton on
+Holm.&nbsp;&nbsp; He was but of five and twenty winters, a
+fair-faced man, yellow-haired, tall and strong; rather wiser than
+foolisher than young men are mostly wont; a valiant youth, and a
+kind; not of many words but courteous of speech; no roisterer,
+nought masterful, but peaceable and knowing how to forbear: in a
+fray a perilous foe, and a trusty war-fellow.&nbsp;&nbsp; His
+father, with whom he was dwelling when this tale begins, was a
+great merchant, richer than a baron of the land, a head-man of
+the greatest of the Lineages of Langton, and a captain of the
+Porte; he was of the Lineage of the Goldings, therefore was he
+called Bartholomew Golden, and his son Golden Walter.</p>
+<p>Now ye may well deem that such a youngling as this was looked
+upon by all as a lucky man without a lack; but there was this
+flaw in his lot, whereas he had fallen into the toils of love of
+a woman exceeding fair, and had taken her to wife, she nought
+unwilling as it seemed.&nbsp;&nbsp; But when they had been wedded
+some six months he found by manifest tokens, that his fairness
+was not so much to her but that she must seek to the foulness of
+one worser than he in all ways; wherefore his rest departed from
+him, whereas he hated her for her untruth and her hatred of him;
+yet would the sound of her voice, as she came and went in the
+house, make his heart beat; and the sight of her stirred desire
+within him, so that he longed for her to be sweet and kind with
+him, and deemed that, might it be so, he should forget all the
+evil gone by.&nbsp;&nbsp; But it was not so; for ever when she
+saw him, her face changed, and her hatred of him became manifest,
+and howsoever she were sweet with others, with him she was hard
+and sour.</p>
+<p>So this went on a while till the chambers of his
+father&rsquo;s house, yea the very streets of the city, became
+loathsome to him; and yet he called to mind that the world was
+wide and he but a young man.&nbsp;&nbsp; So on a day as he sat
+with his father alone, he spake to him and said: &ldquo;Father, I
+was on the quays even now, and I looked on the ships that were
+nigh boun, and thy sign I saw on a tall ship that seemed to me
+nighest boun.&nbsp;&nbsp; Will it be long ere she
+sail?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Nay,&rdquo; said his father, &ldquo;that ship, which
+hight the Katherine, will they warp out of the haven in two
+days&rsquo; time.&nbsp;&nbsp; But why askest thou of
+her?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;The shortest word is best, father,&rdquo; said Walter,
+&ldquo;and this it is, that I would depart in the said ship and
+see other lands.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Yea and whither, son?&rdquo; said the merchant.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Whither she goeth,&rdquo; said Walter, &ldquo;for I am
+ill at ease at home, as thou wottest, father.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>The merchant held his peace awhile, and looked hard on his
+son, for there was strong love between them; but at last he said:
+&ldquo;Well, son, maybe it were best for thee; but maybe also we
+shall not meet again.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Yet if we do meet, father, then shalt thou see a new
+man in me.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Well,&rdquo; said Bartholomew, &ldquo;at least I know
+on whom to lay the loss of thee, and when thou art gone, for thou
+shalt have thine own way herein, she shall no longer abide in my
+house.&nbsp;&nbsp; Nay, but it were for the strife that should
+arise thenceforth betwixt her kindred and ours, it should go
+somewhat worse with her than that.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>Said Walter: &ldquo;I pray thee shame her not more than needs
+must be, lest, so doing, thou shame both me and thyself
+also.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>Bartholomew held his peace again for a while; then he said:
+&ldquo;Goeth she with child, my son?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>Walter reddened, and said: &ldquo;I wot not; nor of whom the
+child may be.&rdquo;&nbsp; Then they both sat silent, till
+Bartholomew spake, saying: &ldquo;The end of it is, son, that
+this is Monday, and that thou shalt go aboard in the small hours
+of Wednesday; and meanwhile I shall look to it that thou go not
+away empty-handed; the skipper of the Katherine is a good man and
+true, and knows the seas well; and my servant Robert the Low, who
+is clerk of the lading, is trustworthy and wise, and as myself in
+all matters that look towards chaffer.&nbsp;&nbsp; The Katherine
+is new and stout-builded, and should be lucky, whereas she is
+under the ward of her who is the saint called upon in the church
+where thou wert christened, and myself before thee; and thy
+mother, and my father and mother all lie under the chancel
+thereof, as thou wottest.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>Therewith the elder rose up and went his ways about his
+business, and there was no more said betwixt him and his son on
+this matter.</p>
+<h2>CHAPTER II: GOLDEN WALTER TAKES SHIP TO SAIL THE SEAS</h2>
+<p>When Walter went down to the Katherine next morning, there was
+the skipper Geoffrey, who did him reverence, and made him all
+cheer, and showed him his room aboard ship, and the plenteous
+goods which his father had sent down to the quays already, such
+haste as he had made.&nbsp; Walter thanked his father&rsquo;s
+love in his heart, but otherwise took little heed to his affairs,
+but wore away the time about the haven, gazing listlessly on the
+ships that were making them ready outward, or unlading, and the
+mariners and aliens coming and going: and all these were to him
+as the curious images woven on a tapestry.</p>
+<p>At last when he had wellnigh come back again to the Katherine,
+he saw there a tall ship, which he had scarce noted before, a
+ship all-boun, which had her boats out, and men sitting to the
+oars thereof ready to tow her outwards when the hawser should be
+cast off, and by seeming her mariners were but abiding for some
+one or other to come aboard.</p>
+<p>So Walter stood idly watching the said ship, and as he looked,
+lo! folk passing him toward the gangway.&nbsp; These were three;
+first came a dwarf, dark-brown of hue and hideous, with long arms
+and ears exceeding great and dog-teeth that stuck out like the
+fangs of a wild beast.&nbsp; He was clad in a rich coat of yellow
+silk, and bare in his hand a crooked bow, and was girt with a
+broad sax.</p>
+<p>After him came a maiden, young by seeming, of scarce twenty
+summers; fair of face as a flower; grey-eyed, brown-haired, with
+lips full and red, slim and gentle of body.&nbsp; Simple was her
+array, of a short and strait green gown, so that on her right
+ankle was clear to see an iron ring.</p>
+<p>Last of the three was a lady, tall and stately, so radiant of
+visage and glorious of raiment, that it were hard to say what
+like she was; for scarce might the eye gaze steady upon her
+exceeding beauty; yet must every son of Adam who found himself
+anigh her, lift up his eyes again after he had dropped them, and
+look again on her, and yet again and yet again.&nbsp; Even so did
+Walter, and as the three passed by him, it seemed to him as if
+all the other folk there about had vanished and were nought; nor
+had he any vision before his eyes of any looking on them, save
+himself alone.&nbsp; They went over the gangway into the ship,
+and he saw them go along the deck till they came to the house on
+the poop, and entered it and were gone from his sight.</p>
+<p>There he stood staring, till little by little the thronging
+people of the quays came into his eye-shot again; then he saw how
+the hawser was cast off and the boats fell to tugging the big
+ship toward the harbour-mouth with hale and how of men.&nbsp;
+Then the sail fell down from the yard and was sheeted home and
+filled with the fair wind as the ship&rsquo;s bows ran up on the
+first green wave outside the haven.&nbsp; Even therewith the
+shipmen cast abroad a banner, whereon was done in a green field a
+grim wolf ramping up against a maiden, and so went the ship upon
+her way.</p>
+<p>Walter stood awhile staring at her empty place where the waves
+ran into the haven-mouth, and then turned aside and toward the
+Katherine; and at first he was minded to go ask shipmaster
+Geoffrey of what he knew concerning the said ship and her alien
+wayfarers; but then it came into his mind, that all this was but
+an imagination or dream of the day, and that he were best to
+leave it untold to any.&nbsp; So therewith he went his way from
+the water-side, and through the streets unto his father&rsquo;s
+house; but when he was but a little way thence, and the door was
+before him, him-seemed for a moment of time that he beheld those
+three coming out down the steps of stone and into the street; to
+wit the dwarf, the maiden, and the stately lady: but when he
+stood still to abide their coming, and looked toward them, lo!
+there was nothing before him save the goodly house of Bartholomew
+Golden, and three children and a cur dog playing about the steps
+thereof, and about him were four or five passers-by going about
+their business.&nbsp; Then was he all confused in his mind, and
+knew not what to make of it, whether those whom he had seemed to
+see pass aboard ship were but images of a dream, or children of
+Adam in very flesh.</p>
+<p>Howsoever, he entered the house, and found his father in the
+chamber, and fell to speech with him about their matters; but for
+all that he loved his father, and worshipped him as a wise and
+valiant man, yet at that hour he might not hearken the words of
+his mouth, so much was his mind entangled in the thought of those
+three, and they were ever before his eyes, as if they had been
+painted on a table by the best of limners.&nbsp; And of the two
+women he thought exceeding much, and cast no wyte upon himself
+for running after the desire of strange women.&nbsp; For he said
+to himself that he desired not either of the twain; nay, he might
+not tell which of the twain, the maiden or the stately queen,
+were clearest to his eyes; but sore he desired to see both of
+them again, and to know what they were.</p>
+<p>So wore the hours till the Wednesday morning, and it was time
+that he should bid farewell to his father and get aboard ship;
+but his father led him down to the quays and on to the Katherine,
+and there Walter embraced him, not without tears and forebodings;
+for his heart was full.&nbsp; Then presently the old man went
+aland; the gangway was unshipped, the hawsers cast off; the oars
+of the towing-boats splashed in the dark water, the sail fell
+down from the yard, and was sheeted home, and out plunged the
+Katherine into the misty sea and rolled up the grey slopes,
+casting abroad her ancient withal, whereon was beaten the token
+of Bartholomew Golden, to wit a B and a G to the right and the
+left, and thereabove a cross and a triangle rising from the
+midst.</p>
+<p>Walter stood on the stern and beheld, yet more with the mind
+of him than with his eyes; for it all seemed but the double of
+what the other ship had done; and the thought of it as if the
+twain were as beads strung on one string and led away by it into
+the same place, and thence to go in the like order, and so on
+again and again, and never to draw nigher to each other.</p>
+<h2>CHAPTER III: WALTER HEARETH TIDINGS OF THE DEATH OF HIS
+FATHER</h2>
+<p>Fast sailed the Katherine over the seas, and nought befell to
+tell of, either to herself or her crew.&nbsp; She came to one
+cheaping-town and then to another, and so on to a third and a
+fourth; and at each was buying and selling after the manner of
+chapmen; and Walter not only looked on the doings of his
+father&rsquo;s folk, but lent a hand, what he might, to help them
+in all matters, whether it were in seaman&rsquo;s craft, or in
+chaffer.&nbsp; And the further he went and the longer the time
+wore, the more he was eased of his old trouble wherein his wife
+and her treason had to do.</p>
+<p>But as for the other trouble, to wit his desire and longing to
+come up with those three, it yet flickered before him; and though
+he had not seen them again as one sees people in the streets, and
+as if he might touch them if he would, yet were their images
+often before his mind&rsquo;s eye; and yet, as time wore, not so
+often, nor so troublously; and forsooth both to those about him
+and to himself, he seemed as a man well healed of his melancholy
+mood.</p>
+<p>Now they left that fourth stead, and sailed over the seas and
+came to a fifth, a very great and fair city, which they had made
+more than seven months from Langton on Holm; and by this time was
+Walter taking heed and joyance in such things as were toward in
+that fair city, so far from his kindred, and especially he looked
+on the fair women there, and desired them, and loved them; but
+lightly, as befalleth young men.</p>
+<p>Now this was the last country whereto the Katherine was boun;
+so there they abode some ten months in daily chaffer, and in
+pleasuring them in beholding all that there was of rare and
+goodly, and making merry with the merchants and the towns-folk,
+and the country-folk beyond the gates, and Walter was grown as
+busy and gay as a strong young man is like to be, and was as one
+who would fain be of some account amongst his own folk.</p>
+<p>But at the end of this while, it befell on a day, as he was
+leaving his hostel for his booth in the market, and had the door
+in his hand, there stood before him three mariners in the guise
+of his own country, and with them was one of clerkly aspect, whom
+he knew at once for his father&rsquo;s scrivener, Arnold
+Penstrong by name; and when Walter saw him his heart failed him
+and he cried out: &ldquo;Arnold, what tidings?&nbsp; Is all well
+with the folk at Langton?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>Said Arnold: &ldquo;Evil tidings are come with me; matters are
+ill with thy folk; for I may not hide that thy father,
+Bartholomew Golden, is dead, God rest his soul.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>At that word it was to Walter as if all that trouble which but
+now had sat so light upon him, was once again fresh and heavy,
+and that his past life of the last few months had never been; and
+it was to him as if he saw his father lying dead on his bed, and
+heard the folk lamenting about the house.&nbsp; He held his peace
+awhile, and then he said in a voice as of an angry man:</p>
+<p>&ldquo;What, Arnold! and did he die in his bed, or how? for he
+was neither old nor ailing when we parted.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>Said Arnold: &ldquo;Yea, in his bed he died: but first he was
+somewhat sword-bitten.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Yea, and how?&rdquo; quoth Walter.</p>
+<p>Said Arnold: &ldquo;When thou wert gone, in a few days&rsquo;
+wearing, thy father sent thy wife out of his house back to her
+kindred of the Reddings with no honour, and yet with no such
+shame as might have been, without blame to us of those who knew
+the tale of thee and her; which, God-a-mercy, will be pretty much
+the whole of the city.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Nevertheless, the Reddings took it amiss, and would
+have a mote with us Goldings to talk of booting.&nbsp; By
+ill-luck we yea-said that for the saving of the city&rsquo;s
+peace.&nbsp; But what betid?&nbsp; We met in our Gild-hall, and
+there befell the talk between us; and in that talk certain words
+could not be hidden, though they were none too seemly nor too
+meek.&nbsp; And the said words once spoken drew forth the whetted
+steel; and there then was the hewing and thrusting!&nbsp; Two of
+ours were slain outright on the floor, and four of theirs, and
+many were hurt on either side.&nbsp; Of these was thy father, for
+as thou mayst well deem, he was nought backward in the fray; but
+despite his hurts, two in the side and one on the arm, he went
+home on his own feet, and we deemed that we had come to our
+above.&nbsp; But well-a-way! it was an evil victory, whereas in
+ten days he died of his hurts.&nbsp; God have his soul!&nbsp; But
+now, my master, thou mayst well wot that I am not come to tell
+thee this only, but moreover to bear the word of the kindred, to
+wit that thou come back with me straightway in the swift cutter
+which hath borne me and the tidings; and thou mayst look to it,
+that though she be swift and light, she is a keel full
+weatherly.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>Then said Walter: &ldquo;This is a bidding of war.&nbsp; Come
+back will I, and the Reddings shall wot of my coming.&nbsp; Are
+ye all-boun?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Yea,&rdquo; said Arnold, &ldquo;we may up anchor this
+very day, or to-morrow morn at latest.&nbsp; But what aileth
+thee, master, that thou starest so wild over my shoulder?&nbsp; I
+pray thee take it not so much to heart!&nbsp; Ever it is the wont
+of fathers to depart this world before their sons.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>But Walter&rsquo;s visage from wrathful red had become pale,
+and he pointed up street, and cried out: &ldquo;Look! dost thou
+see?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;See what, master?&rdquo; quoth Arnold: &ldquo;what!
+here cometh an ape in gay raiment; belike the beast of some
+jongleur.&nbsp; Nay, by God&rsquo;s wounds! &rsquo;tis a man,
+though he be exceeding mis-shapen like a very devil.&nbsp; Yea
+and now there cometh a pretty maid going as if she were of his
+meney; and lo! here, a most goodly and noble lady!&nbsp; Yea, I
+see; and doubtless she owneth both the two, and is of the
+greatest of the folk of this fair city; for on the maiden&rsquo;s
+ankle I saw an iron ring, which betokeneth thralldom amongst
+these aliens.&nbsp; But this is strange! for notest thou not how
+the folk in the street heed not this quaint show; nay not even
+the stately lady, though she be as lovely as a goddess of the
+gentiles, and beareth on her gems that would buy Langton twice
+over; surely they must be over-wont to strange and gallant
+sights.&nbsp; But now, master, but now!&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Yea, what is it?&rdquo; said Walter.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Why, master, they should not yet be gone out of
+eye-shot, yet gone they are.&nbsp; What is become of them, are
+they sunk into the earth?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Tush, man!&rdquo; said Walter, looking not on Arnold,
+but still staring down the street; &ldquo;they have gone into
+some house while thine eyes were turned from them a
+moment.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Nay, master, nay,&rdquo; said Arnold, &ldquo;mine eyes
+were not off them one instant of time.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Well,&rdquo; said Walter, somewhat snappishly,
+&ldquo;they are gone now, and what have we to do to heed such
+toys, we with all this grief and strife on our hands?&nbsp; Now
+would I be alone to turn the matter of thine errand over in my
+mind.&nbsp; Meantime do thou tell the shipmaster Geoffrey and our
+other folk of these tidings, and thereafter get thee all ready;
+and come hither to me before sunrise to-morrow, and I shall be
+ready for my part; and so sail we back to Langton.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>Therewith he turned him back into the house, and the others
+went their ways; but Walter sat alone in his chamber a long
+while, and pondered these things in his mind.&nbsp; And whiles he
+made up his mind that he would think no more of the vision of
+those three, but would fare back to Langton, and enter into the
+strife with the Reddings and quell them, or die else.&nbsp; But
+lo, when he was quite steady in this doom, and his heart was
+lightened thereby, he found that he thought no more of the
+Reddings and their strife, but as matters that were passed and
+done with, and that now he was thinking and devising if by any
+means he might find out in what land dwelt those three.&nbsp; And
+then again he strove to put that from him, saying that what he
+had seen was but meet for one brainsick, and a dreamer of
+dreams.&nbsp; But furthermore he thought, Yea, and was Arnold,
+who this last time had seen the images of those three, a dreamer
+of waking dreams? for he was nought wonted in such wise; then
+thought he: At least I am well content that he spake to me of
+their likeness, not I to him; for so I may tell that there was at
+least something before my eyes which grew not out of mine own
+brain.&nbsp; And yet again, why should I follow them; and what
+should I get by it; and indeed how shall I set about it?</p>
+<p>Thus he turned the matter over and over; and at last, seeing
+that if he grew no foolisher over it, he grew no wiser, he became
+weary thereof, and bestirred him, and saw to the trussing up of
+his goods, and made all ready for his departure, and so wore the
+day and slept at nightfall; and at daybreak comes Arnold to lead
+him to their keel, which hight the Bartholomew.&nbsp; He tarried
+nought, and with few farewells went aboard ship, and an hour
+after they were in the open sea with the ship&rsquo;s head turned
+toward Langton on Holm.</p>
+<h2>CHAPTER IV: STORM BEFALLS THE BARTHOLOMEW, AND SHE IS DRIVEN
+OFF HER COURSE</h2>
+<p>Now swift sailed the Bartholomew for four weeks toward the
+north-west with a fair wind, and all was well with ship and
+crew.&nbsp; Then the wind died out on even of a day, so that the
+ship scarce made way at all, though she rolled in a great swell
+of the sea, so great, that it seemed to ridge all the main
+athwart.&nbsp; Moreover down in the west was a great bank of
+cloud huddled up in haze, whereas for twenty days past the sky
+had been clear, save for a few bright white clouds flying before
+the wind.&nbsp; Now the shipmaster, a man right cunning in his
+craft, looked long on sea and sky, and then turned and bade the
+mariners take in sail and be right heedful.&nbsp; And when Walter
+asked him what he looked for, and wherefore he spake not to him
+thereof, he said surlily: &ldquo;Why should I tell thee what any
+fool can see without telling, to wit that there is weather to
+hand?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>So they abode what should befall, and Walter went to his room
+to sleep away the uneasy while, for the night was now fallen; and
+he knew no more till he was waked up by great hubbub and clamour
+of the shipmen, and the whipping of ropes, and thunder of
+flapping sails, and the tossing and weltering of the ship
+withal.&nbsp; But, being a very stout-hearted young man, he lay
+still in his room, partly because he was a landsman, and had no
+mind to tumble about amongst the shipmen and hinder them; and
+withal he said to himself: What matter whether I go down to the
+bottom of the sea, or come back to Langton, since either way my
+life or my death will take away from me the fulfilment of
+desire?&nbsp; Yet soothly if there hath been a shift of wind,
+that is not so ill; for then shall we be driven to other lands,
+and so at the least our home-coming shall be delayed, and other
+tidings may hap amidst of our tarrying.&nbsp; So let all be as it
+will.</p>
+<p>So in a little while, in spite of the ship&rsquo;s wallowing
+and the tumult of the wind and waves, he fell asleep again, and
+woke no more till it was full daylight, and there was the
+shipmaster standing in the door of his room, the sea-water all
+streaming from his wet-weather raiment.&nbsp; He said to Walter:
+&ldquo;Young master, the sele of the day to thee!&nbsp; For by
+good hap we have gotten into another day.&nbsp; Now I shall tell
+thee that we have striven to beat, so as not to be driven off our
+course, but all would not avail, wherefore for these three hours
+we have been running before the wind; but, fair sir, so big hath
+been the sea that but for our ship being of the stoutest, and our
+men all yare, we had all grown exceeding wise concerning the
+ground of the mid-main.&nbsp; Praise be to St. Nicholas and all
+Hallows! for though ye shall presently look upon a new sea, and
+maybe a new land to boot, yet is that better than looking on the
+ugly things down below.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Is all well with ship and crew then?&rdquo; said
+Walter.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Yea forsooth,&rdquo; said the shipmaster; &ldquo;verily
+the Bartholomew is the darling of Oak Woods; come up and look at
+it, how she is dealing with wind and waves all free from
+fear.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>So Walter did on his foul-weather raiment, and went up on to
+the quarter-deck, and there indeed was a change of days; for the
+sea was dark and tumbling mountain-high, and the white-horses
+were running down the valleys thereof, and the clouds drave low
+over all, and bore a scud of rain along with them; and though
+there was but a rag of sail on her, the ship flew before the
+wind, rolling a great wash of water from bulwark to bulwark.</p>
+<p>Walter stood looking on it all awhile, holding on by a
+stay-rope, and saying to himself that it was well that they were
+driving so fast toward new things.</p>
+<p>Then the shipmaster came up to him and clapped him on the
+shoulder and said: &ldquo;Well, shipmate, cheer up! and now come
+below again and eat some meat, and drink a cup with
+me.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>So Walter went down and ate and drank, and his heart was
+lighter than it had been since he had heard of his father&rsquo;s
+death, and the feud awaiting him at home, which forsooth he had
+deemed would stay his wanderings a weary while, and therewithal
+his hopes.&nbsp; But now it seemed as if he needs must wander,
+would he, would he not; and so it was that even this fed his
+hope; so sore his heart clung to that desire of his to seek home
+to those three that seemed to call him unto them.</p>
+<h2>CHAPTER V: NOW THEY COME TO A NEW LAND</h2>
+<p>Three days they drave before the wind, and on the fourth the
+clouds lifted, the sun shone out and the offing was clear; the
+wind had much abated, though it still blew a breeze, and was a
+head wind for sailing toward the country of Langton.&nbsp; So
+then the master said that, since they were bewildered, and the
+wind so ill to deal with, it were best to go still before the
+wind that they might make some land and get knowledge of their
+whereabouts from the folk thereof.&nbsp; Withal he said that he
+deemed the land not to be very far distant.</p>
+<p>So did they, and sailed on pleasantly enough, for the weather
+kept on mending, and the wind fell till it was but a light
+breeze, yet still foul for Langton.</p>
+<p>So wore three days, and on the eve of the third, the man from
+the topmast cried out that he saw land ahead; and so did they all
+before the sun was quite set, though it were but a cloud no
+bigger than a man&rsquo;s hand.</p>
+<p>When night fell they struck not sail, but went forth toward
+the land fair and softly; for it was early summer, so that the
+nights were neither long nor dark.</p>
+<p>But when it was broad daylight, they opened a land, a long
+shore of rocks and mountains, and nought else that they could see
+at first.&nbsp; Nevertheless as day wore and they drew nigher,
+first they saw how the mountains fell away from the sea, and were
+behind a long wall of sheer cliff; and coming nigher yet, they
+beheld a green plain going up after a little in green bents and
+slopes to the feet of the said cliff-wall.</p>
+<p>No city nor haven did they see there, not even when they were
+far nigher to the land; nevertheless, whereas they hankered for
+the peace of the green earth after all the tossing and unrest of
+the sea, and whereas also they doubted not to find at the least
+good and fresh water, and belike other bait in the plain under
+the mountains, they still sailed on not unmerrily; so that by
+nightfall they cast anchor in five-fathom water hard by the
+shore.</p>
+<p>Next morning they found that they were lying a little way off
+the mouth of a river not right great; so they put out their boats
+and towed the ship up into the said river, and when they had gone
+up it for a mile or thereabouts they found the sea water failed,
+for little was the ebb and flow of the tide on that coast.&nbsp;
+Then was the river deep and clear, running between smooth grassy
+land like to meadows.&nbsp; Also on their left board they saw
+presently three head of neat cattle going, as if in a meadow of a
+homestead in their own land, and a few sheep; and thereafter,
+about a bow-draught from the river, they saw a little house of
+wood and straw-thatch under a wooded mound, and with orchard
+trees about it.&nbsp; They wondered little thereat, for they knew
+no cause why that land should not be builded, though it were in
+the far outlands.&nbsp; However, they drew their ship up to the
+bank, thinking that they would at least abide awhile and ask
+tidings and have some refreshing of the green plain, which was so
+lovely and pleasant.</p>
+<p>But while they were busied herein they saw a man come out of
+the house, and down to the river to meet them; and they soon saw
+that he was tall and old, long-hoary of hair and beard, and clad
+mostly in the skins of beasts.</p>
+<p>He drew nigh without any fear or mistrust, and coming close to
+them gave them the sele of the day in a kindly and pleasant
+voice.&nbsp; The shipmaster greeted him in his turn, and said
+withal: &ldquo;Old man, art thou the king of this
+country?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>The elder laughed; &ldquo;It hath had none other a long
+while,&rdquo; said he; &ldquo;and at least there is no other son
+of Adam here to gainsay.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Thou art alone here then?&rdquo; said the master.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Yea,&rdquo; said the old man; &ldquo;save for the
+beasts of the field and the wood, and the creeping things, and
+fowl.&nbsp; Wherefore it is sweet to me to hear your
+voices.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>Said the master: &ldquo;Where be the other houses of the
+town?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>The old man laughed.&nbsp; Said he: &ldquo;When I said that I
+was alone, I meant that I was alone in the land and not only
+alone in this stead.&nbsp; There is no house save this betwixt
+the sea and the dwellings of the Bears, over the cliff-wall
+yonder, yea and a long way over it.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Yea,&rdquo; quoth the shipmaster grinning, &ldquo;and
+be the bears of thy country so manlike, that they dwell in
+builded houses?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>The old man shook his head.&nbsp; &ldquo;Sir,&rdquo; said he,
+&ldquo;as to their bodily fashion, it is altogether manlike, save
+that they be one and all higher and bigger than most.&nbsp; For
+they be bears only in name; they be a nation of half wild men;
+for I have been told by them that there be many more than that
+tribe whose folk I have seen, and that they spread wide about
+behind these mountains from east to west.&nbsp; Now, sir, as to
+their souls and understandings I warrant them not; for miscreants
+they be, trowing neither in God nor his hallows.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>Said the master: &ldquo;Trow they in Mahound then?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Nay,&rdquo; said the elder, &ldquo;I wot not for sure
+that they have so much as a false God; though I have it from them
+that they worship a certain woman with mickle worship.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>Then spake Walter: &ldquo;Yea, good sir, and how knowest thou
+that? dost thou deal with them at all?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>Said the old man: &ldquo;Whiles some of that folk come hither
+and have of me what I can spare; a calf or two, or a half-dozen
+of lambs or hoggets; or a skin of wine or cyder of mine own
+making: and they give me in return such things as I can use, as
+skins of hart and bear and other peltries; for now I am old, I
+can but little of the hunting hereabout.&nbsp; Whiles, also, they
+bring little lumps of pure copper, and would give me gold also,
+but it is of little use in this lonely land.&nbsp; Sooth to say,
+to me they are not masterful or rough-handed; but glad am I that
+they have been here but of late, and are not like to come again
+this while; for terrible they are of aspect, and whereas ye be
+aliens, belike they would not hold their hands from off you; and
+moreover ye have weapons and other matters which they would covet
+sorely.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>Quoth the master: &ldquo;Since thou dealest with these wild
+men, will ye not deal with us in chaffer?&nbsp; For whereas we
+are come from long travel, we hanker after fresh victual, and
+here aboard are many things which were for thine
+avail.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>Said the old man: &ldquo;All that I have is yours, so that ye
+do but leave me enough till my next ingathering: of wine and
+cyder, such as it is, I have plenty for your service; ye may
+drink it till it is all gone, if ye will: a little corn and meal
+I have, but not much; yet are ye welcome thereto, since the
+standing corn in my garth is done blossoming, and I have other
+meat.&nbsp; Cheeses have I and dried fish; take what ye will
+thereof.&nbsp; But as to my neat and sheep, if ye have sore need
+of any, and will have them, I may not say you nay: but I pray you
+if ye may do without them, not to take my milch-beasts or their
+engenderers; for, as ye have heard me say, the Bear-folk have
+been here but of late, and they have had of me all I might spare:
+but now let me tell you, if ye long after flesh-meat, that there
+is venison of hart and hind, yea, and of buck and doe, to be had
+on this plain, and about the little woods at the feet of the
+rock-wall yonder: neither are they exceeding wild; for since I
+may not take them, I scare them not, and no other man do they see
+to hurt them; for the Bear-folk come straight to my house, and
+fare straight home thence.&nbsp; But I will lead you the nighest
+way to where the venison is easiest to be gotten.&nbsp; As to the
+wares in your ship, if ye will give me aught I will take it with
+a good will; and chiefly if ye have a fair knife or two and a
+roll of linen cloth, that were a good refreshment to me.&nbsp;
+But in any case what I have to give is free to you and
+welcome.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>The shipmaster laughed: &ldquo;Friend,&rdquo; said he,
+&ldquo;we can thee mickle thanks for all that thou biddest
+us.&nbsp; And wot well that we be no lifters or sea-thieves to
+take thy livelihood from thee.&nbsp; So to-morrow, if thou wilt,
+we will go with thee and upraise the hunt, and meanwhile we will
+come aland, and walk on the green grass, and water our ship with
+thy good fresh water.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>So the old carle went back to his house to make them ready
+what cheer he might, and the shipmen, who were twenty and one,
+all told, what with the mariners and Arnold and Walter&rsquo;s
+servants, went ashore, all but two who watched the ship and abode
+their turn.&nbsp; They went well-weaponed, for both the master
+and Walter deemed wariness wisdom, lest all might not be so good
+as it seemed.&nbsp; They took of their sail-cloths ashore and
+tilted them in on the meadow betwixt the house and the ship, and
+the carle brought them what he had for their avail, of fresh
+fruits, and cheeses, and milk, and wine, and cyder, and honey,
+and there they feasted nowise ill, and were right fain.</p>
+<h2>CHAPTER VI: THE OLD MAN TELLS WALTER OF HIMSELF.&nbsp; WALTER
+SEES A SHARD IN THE CLIFF-WALL</h2>
+<p>But when they had done their meat and drink the master and the
+shipmen went about the watering of the ship, and the others
+strayed off along the meadow, so that presently Walter was left
+alone with the carle, and fell to speech with him and said:
+&ldquo;Father, meseemeth thou shouldest have some strange tale to
+tell, and as yet we have asked thee of nought save meat for our
+bellies: now if I ask thee concerning thy life, and how thou
+camest hither, and abided here, wilt thou tell me
+aught?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>The old man smiled on him and said: &ldquo;Son, my tale were
+long to tell; and mayhappen concerning much thereof my memory
+should fail me; and withal there is grief therein, which I were
+loth to awaken: nevertheless if thou ask, I will answer as I may,
+and in any case will tell thee nought save the truth.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>Said Walter: &ldquo;Well then, hast thou been long
+here?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Yea,&rdquo; said the carle, &ldquo;since I was a young
+man, and a stalwarth knight.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>Said Walter: &ldquo;This house, didst thou build it, and raise
+these garths, and plant orchard and vineyard, and gather together
+the neat and the sheep, or did some other do all this for
+thee?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>Said the carle: &ldquo;I did none of all this; there was one
+here before me, and I entered into his inheritance, as though
+this were a lordly manor, with a fair castle thereon, and all
+well stocked and plenished.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>Said Walter: &ldquo;Didst thou find thy foregoer alive
+here?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Yea,&rdquo; said the elder, &ldquo;yet he lived but for
+a little while after I came to him.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>He was silent a while, and then he said: &ldquo;I slew him:
+even so would he have it, though I bade him a better
+lot.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>Said Walter: &ldquo;Didst thou come hither of thine own
+will?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Mayhappen,&rdquo; said the carle; &ldquo;who
+knoweth?&nbsp; Now have I no will to do either this or
+that.&nbsp; It is wont that maketh me do, or refrain.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>Said Walter: &ldquo;Tell me this; why didst thou slay the man?
+did he any scathe to thee?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>Said the elder: &ldquo;When I slew him, I deemed that he was
+doing me all scathe: but now I know that it was not so.&nbsp;
+Thus it was: I would needs go where he had been before, and he
+stood in the path against me; and I overthrew him, and went on
+the way I would.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;What came thereof?&rdquo; said Walter.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Evil came of it,&rdquo; said the carle.</p>
+<p>Then was Walter silent a while, and the old man spake nothing;
+but there came a smile in his face that was both sly and somewhat
+sad.&nbsp; Walter looked on him and said: &ldquo;Was it from
+hence that thou wouldst go that road?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Yea,&rdquo; said the carle.</p>
+<p>Said Walter: &ldquo;And now wilt thou tell me what that road
+was; whither it went and whereto it led, that thou must needs
+wend it, though thy first stride were over a dead man?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;I will not tell thee,&rdquo; said the carle.</p>
+<p>Then they held their peace, both of them, and thereafter got
+on to other talk of no import.</p>
+<p>So wore the day till night came; and they slept safely, and on
+the morrow after they had broken their fast, the more part of
+them set off with the carle to the hunting, and they went, all of
+them, a three hours&rsquo; faring towards the foot of the cliffs,
+which was all grown over with coppice, hazel and thorn, with here
+and there a big oak or ash-tree; there it was, said the old man,
+where the venison was most and best.</p>
+<p>Of their hunting need nought be said, saving that when the
+carle had put them on the track of the deer and shown them what
+to do, he came back again with Walter, who had no great lust for
+the hunting, and sorely longed to have some more talk with the
+said carle.&nbsp; He for his part seemed nought loth thereto, and
+so led Walter to a mound or hillock amidst the clear of the
+plain, whence all was to be seen save where the wood covered it;
+but just before where they now lay down there was no wood, save
+low bushes, betwixt them and the rock-wall; and Walter noted that
+whereas otherwhere, save in one place whereto their eyes were
+turned, the cliffs seemed wellnigh or quite sheer, or indeed in
+some places beetling over, in that said place they fell away from
+each other on either side; and before this sinking was a slope or
+scree, that went gently up toward the sinking of the wall.&nbsp;
+Walter looked long and earnestly at this place, and spake nought,
+till the carle said: &ldquo;What! thou hast found something
+before thee to look on.&nbsp; What is it then?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>Quoth Walter: &ldquo;Some would say that where yonder slopes
+run together up towards that sinking in the cliff-wall there will
+be a pass into the country beyond.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>The carle smiled and said: &ldquo;Yea, son; nor, so saying,
+would they err; for that is the pass into the Bear-country,
+whereby those huge men come down to chaffer with me.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Yea,&rdquo; said Walter; and therewith he turned him a
+little, and scanned the rock-wall, and saw how a few miles from
+that pass it turned somewhat sharply toward the sea, narrowing
+the plain much there, till it made a bight, the face whereof
+looked wellnigh north, instead of west, as did the more part of
+the wall.&nbsp; And in the midst of that northern-looking bight
+was a dark place which seemed to Walter like a downright shard in
+the cliff.&nbsp; For the face of the wall was of a bleak grey,
+and it was but little furrowed.</p>
+<p>So then Walter spake: &ldquo;Lo, old friend, there yonder is
+again a place that meseemeth is a pass; whereunto doth that one
+lead?&rdquo;&nbsp; And he pointed to it: but the old man did not
+follow the pointing of his finger, but, looking down on the
+ground, answered confusedly, and said:</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Maybe: I wot not.&nbsp; I deem that it also leadeth
+into the Bear-country by a roundabout road.&nbsp; It leadeth into
+the far land.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>Walter answered nought: for a strange thought had come
+uppermost in his mind, that the carle knew far more than he would
+say of that pass, and that he himself might be led thereby to
+find the wondrous three.&nbsp; He caught his breath hardly, and
+his heart knocked against his ribs; but he refrained from
+speaking for a long while; but at last he spake in a sharp hard
+voice, which he scarce knew for his own: &ldquo;Father, tell me,
+I adjure thee by God and All-hallows, was it through yonder shard
+that the road lay, when thou must needs make thy first stride
+over a dead man?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>The old man spake not a while, then he raised his head, and
+looked Walter full in the eyes, and said in a steady voice:
+&ldquo;<span class="smcap">No</span>, <span class="smcap">it was
+not</span>.&rdquo;&nbsp; Thereafter they sat looking at each
+other a while; but at last Walter turned his eyes away, but knew
+not what they beheld nor where he was, but he was as one in a
+swoon.&nbsp; For he knew full well that the carle had lied to
+him, and that he might as well have said aye as no, and told him,
+that it verily was by that same shard that he had stridden over a
+dead man.&nbsp; Nevertheless he made as little semblance thereof
+as he might, and presently came to himself, and fell to talking
+of other matters, that had nought to do with the adventures of
+the land.&nbsp; But after a while he spake suddenly, and said:
+&ldquo;My master, I was thinking of a thing.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Yea, of what?&rdquo; said the carle.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Of this,&rdquo; said Walter; &ldquo;that here in this
+land be strange adventures toward, and that if we, and I in
+especial, were to turn our backs on them, and go home with
+nothing done, it were pity of our lives: for all will be dull and
+deedless there.&nbsp; I was deeming it were good if we tried the
+adventure.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;What adventure?&rdquo; said the old man, rising up on
+his elbow and staring sternly on him.</p>
+<p>Said Walter: &ldquo;The wending yonder pass to the eastward,
+whereby the huge men come to thee from out of the Bear-country;
+that we might see what should come thereof.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>The carle leaned back again, and smiled and shook his head,
+and spake: &ldquo;That adventure were speedily proven: death
+would come of it, my son.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Yea, and how?&rdquo; said Walter.</p>
+<p>The carle said: &ldquo;The big men would take thee, and offer
+thee up as a blood-offering to that woman, who is their
+Mawmet.&nbsp; And if ye go all, then shall they do the like with
+all of you.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>Said Walter: &ldquo;Is that sure?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Dead sure,&rdquo; said the carle.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;How knowest thou this?&rdquo; said Walter.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;I have been there myself,&rdquo; said the carle.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Yea,&rdquo; said Walter, &ldquo;but thou camest away
+whole.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Art thou sure thereof?&rdquo; said the carle.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Thou art alive yet, old man,&rdquo; said Walter,
+&ldquo;for I have seen thee eat thy meat, which ghosts use not to
+do.&rdquo;&nbsp; And he laughed.</p>
+<p>But the old man answered soberly: &ldquo;If I escaped, it was
+by this, that another woman saved me, and not often shall that
+befall.&nbsp; Nor wholly was I saved; my body escaped
+forsooth.&nbsp; But where is my soul?&nbsp; Where is my heart,
+and my life?&nbsp; Young man, I rede thee, try no such adventure;
+but go home to thy kindred if thou canst.&nbsp; Moreover, wouldst
+thou fare alone?&nbsp; The others shall hinder thee.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>Said Walter: &ldquo;I am the master; they shall do as I bid
+them: besides, they will be well pleased to share my goods
+amongst them if I give them a writing to clear them of all
+charges which might be brought against them.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;My son! my son!&rdquo; said the carle, &ldquo;I pray
+thee go not to thy death!&rdquo;</p>
+<p>Walter heard him silently, but as if he were persuaded to
+refrain; and then the old man fell to, and told him much
+concerning this Bear-folk and their customs, speaking very freely
+of them; but Walter&rsquo;s ears were scarce open to this talk:
+whereas he deemed that he should have nought to do with those
+wild men; and he durst not ask again concerning the country
+whereto led the pass on the northward.</p>
+<h2>CHAPTER VII: WALTER COMES TO THE SHARD IN THE ROCK-WALL</h2>
+<p>As they were in converse thus, they heard the hunters blowing
+on their horns all together; whereon the old man arose, and said:
+&ldquo;I deem by the blowing that the hunt will be over and done,
+and that they be blowing on their fellows who have gone
+scatter-meal about the wood.&nbsp; It is now some five hours
+after noon, and thy men will be getting back with their venison,
+and will be fainest of the victuals they have caught; therefore
+will I hasten on before, and get ready fire and water and other
+matters for the cooking.&nbsp; Wilt thou come with me, young
+master, or abide thy men here?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>Walter said lightly: &ldquo;I will rest and abide them here;
+since I cannot fail to see them hence as they go on their ways to
+thine house.&nbsp; And it may be well that I be at hand to
+command them and forbid, and put some order amongst them, for
+rough playmates they be, some of them, and now all heated with
+the hunting and the joy of the green earth.&rdquo;&nbsp; Thus he
+spoke, as if nought were toward save supper and bed; but inwardly
+hope and fear were contending in him, and again his heart beat so
+hard, that he deemed that the carle must surely hear it.&nbsp;
+But the old man took him but according to his outward seeming,
+and nodded his head, and went away quietly toward his house.</p>
+<p>When he had been gone a little, Walter rose up heedfully; he
+had with him a scrip wherein was some cheese and hard-fish, and a
+little flasket of wine; a short bow he had with him, and a quiver
+of arrows; and he was girt with a strong and good sword, and a
+wood-knife withal.&nbsp; He looked to all this gear that it was
+nought amiss, and then speedily went down off the mound, and when
+he was come down, he found that it covered him from men coming
+out of the wood, if he went straight thence to that shard of the
+rock-wall where was the pass that led southward.</p>
+<p>Now it is no nay that thitherward he turned, and went wisely,
+lest the carle should make a backward cast, and see him, or lest
+any straggler of his own folk might happen upon him.</p>
+<p>For to say sooth, he deemed that did they wind him, they would
+be like to let him of his journey.&nbsp; He had noted the
+bearings of the cliffs nigh the shard, and whereas he could see
+their heads everywhere except from the depths of the thicket, he
+was not like to go astray.</p>
+<p>He had made no great way ere he heard the horns blowing all
+together again in one place, and looking thitherward through the
+leafy boughs (for he was now amidst of a thicket) he saw his men
+thronging the mound, and had no doubt therefore that they were
+blowing on him; but being well under cover he heeded it nought,
+and lying still a little, saw them go down off the mound and go
+all of them toward the carle&rsquo;s house, still blowing as they
+went, but not faring scatter-meal.&nbsp; Wherefore it was clear
+that they were nought troubled about him.</p>
+<p>So he went on his way to the shard; and there is nothing to
+say of his journey till he got before it with the last of the
+clear day, and entered it straightway.&nbsp; It was in sooth a
+downright breach or cleft in the rock-wall, and there was no hill
+or bent leading up to it, nothing but a tumble of stones before
+it, which was somewhat uneasy going, yet needed nought but labour
+to overcome it, and when he had got over this, and was in the
+very pass itself, he found it no ill going: forsooth at first it
+was little worse than a rough road betwixt two great stony
+slopes, though a little trickle of water ran down amidst of
+it.&nbsp; So, though it was so nigh nightfall, yet Walter pressed
+on, yea, and long after the very night was come.&nbsp; For the
+moon rose wide and bright a little after nightfall.&nbsp; But at
+last he had gone so long, and was so wearied, that he deemed it
+nought but wisdom to rest him, and so lay down on a piece of
+greensward betwixt the stones, when he had eaten a morsel out of
+his satchel, and drunk of the water out of the stream.&nbsp;
+There as he lay, if he had any doubt of peril, his weariness soon
+made it all one to him, for presently he was sleeping as soundly
+as any man in Langton on Holm.</p>
+<h2>CHAPTER VIII: WALTER WENDS THE WASTE</h2>
+<p>Day was yet young when he awoke: he leapt to his feet, and
+went down to the stream and drank of its waters, and washed the
+night off him in a pool thereof, and then set forth on his way
+again.&nbsp; When he had gone some three hours, the road, which
+had been going up all the way, but somewhat gently, grew steeper,
+and the bent on either side lowered, and lowered, till it sank at
+last altogether, and then was he on a rough mountain-neck with
+little grass, and no water; save that now and again was a soft
+place with a flow amidst of it, and such places he must needs
+fetch a compass about, lest he be mired.&nbsp; He gave himself
+but little rest, eating what he needs must as he went.&nbsp; The
+day was bright and calm, so that the sun was never hidden, and he
+steered by it due south.&nbsp; All that day he went, and found no
+more change in that huge neck, save that whiles it was more and
+whiles less steep.&nbsp; A little before nightfall he happened on
+a shallow pool some twenty yards over; and he deemed it good to
+rest there, since there was water for his avail, though he might
+have made somewhat more out of the tail end of the day.</p>
+<p>When dawn came again he awoke and arose, nor spent much time
+over his breakfast; but pressed on all he might; and now he said
+to himself, that whatsoever other peril were athwart his way, he
+was out of the danger of the chase of his own folk.</p>
+<p>All this while he had seen no four-footed beast, save now and
+again a hill-fox, and once some outlandish kind of hare; and of
+fowl but very few: a crow or two, a long-winged hawk, and twice
+an eagle high up aloft.</p>
+<p>Again, the third night, he slept in the stony wilderness,
+which still led him up and up.&nbsp; Only toward the end of the
+day, himseemed that it had been less steep for a long while:
+otherwise nought was changed, on all sides it was nought but the
+endless neck, wherefrom nought could be seen, but some other part
+of itself.&nbsp; This fourth night withal he found no water
+whereby he might rest, so that he awoke parched, and longing to
+drink just when the dawn was at its coldest.</p>
+<p>But on the fifth morrow the ground rose but little, and at
+last, when he had been going wearily a long while, and now, hard
+on noontide, his thirst grieved him sorely, he came on a spring
+welling out from under a high rock, the water wherefrom trickled
+feebly away.&nbsp; So eager was he to drink, that at first he
+heeded nought else; but when his thirst was fully quenched his
+eyes caught sight of the stream which flowed from the well, and
+he gave a shout, for lo! it was running south.&nbsp; Wherefore it
+was with a merry heart that he went on, and as he went, came on
+more streams, all running south or thereabouts.&nbsp; He hastened
+on all he might, but in despite of all the speed he made, and
+that he felt the land now going down southward, night overtook
+him in that same wilderness.&nbsp; Yet when he stayed at last for
+sheer weariness, he lay down in what he deemed by the moonlight
+to be a shallow valley, with a ridge at the southern end
+thereof.</p>
+<p>He slept long, and when he awoke the sun was high in the
+heavens, and never was brighter or clearer morning on the earth
+than was that.&nbsp; He arose and ate of what little was yet left
+him, and drank of the water of a stream which he had followed the
+evening before, and beside which he had laid him down; and then
+set forth again with no great hope to come on new tidings that
+day.&nbsp; But yet when he was fairly afoot, himseemed that there
+was something new in the air which he breathed, that was soft and
+bore sweet scents home to him; whereas heretofore, and that
+especially for the last three or four days, it had been harsh and
+void, like the face of the desert itself.</p>
+<p>So on he went, and presently was mounting the ridge aforesaid,
+and, as oft happens when one climbs a steep place, he kept his
+eyes on the ground, till he felt he was on the top of the
+ridge.&nbsp; Then he stopped to take breath, and raised his head
+and looked, and lo! he was verily on the brow of the great
+mountain-neck, and down below him was the hanging of the great
+hill-slopes, which fell down, not slowly, as those he had been
+those days a-mounting, but speedily enough, though with little of
+broken places or sheer cliffs.&nbsp; But beyond this last of the
+desert there was before him a lovely land of wooded hills, green
+plains, and little valleys, stretching out far and wide, till it
+ended at last in great blue mountains and white snowy peaks
+beyond them.</p>
+<p>Then for very surprise of joy his spirit wavered, and he felt
+faint and dizzy, so that he was fain to sit down a while and
+cover his face with his hands.&nbsp; Presently he came to his
+sober mind again, and stood up and looked forth keenly, and saw
+no sign of any dwelling of man.&nbsp; But he said to himself that
+that might well be because the good and well-grassed land was
+still so far off, and that he might yet look to find men and
+their dwellings when he had left the mountain wilderness quite
+behind him: So therewith he fell to going his ways down the
+mountain, and lost little time therein, whereas he now had his
+livelihood to look to.</p>
+<h2>CHAPTER IX: WALTER HAPPENETH ON THE FIRST OF THOSE THREE
+CREATURES</h2>
+<p>What with one thing, what with another, as his having to turn
+out of his way for sheer rocks, or for slopes so steep that he
+might not try the peril of them, and again for bogs impassable,
+he was fully three days more before he had quite come out of the
+stony waste, and by that time, though he had never lacked water,
+his scanty victual was quite done, for all his careful husbandry
+thereof.&nbsp; But this troubled him little, whereas he looked to
+find wild fruits here and there and to shoot some small deer, as
+hare or coney, and make a shift to cook the same, since he had
+with him flint and fire-steel.&nbsp; Moreover the further he
+went, the surer he was that he should soon come across a
+dwelling, so smooth and fair as everything looked before
+him.&nbsp; And he had scant fear, save that he might happen on
+men who should enthrall him.</p>
+<p>But when he was come down past the first green slopes, he was
+so worn, that he said to himself that rest was better than meat,
+so little as he had slept for the last three days; so he laid him
+down under an ash-tree by a stream-side, nor asked what was
+o&rsquo;clock, but had his fill of sleep, and even when he awoke
+in the fresh morning was little fain of rising, but lay betwixt
+sleeping and waking for some three hours more; then he arose, and
+went further down the next green bent, yet somewhat slowly
+because of his hunger-weakness.&nbsp; And the scent of that fair
+land came up to him like the odour of one great nosegay.</p>
+<p>So he came to where the land was level, and there were many
+trees, as oak and ash, and sweet-chestnut and wych-elm, and
+hornbeam and quicken-tree, not growing in a close wood or tangled
+thicket, but set as though in order on the flowery greensward,
+even as it might be in a great king&rsquo;s park.</p>
+<p>So came he to a big bird-cherry, whereof many boughs hung low
+down laden with fruit: his belly rejoiced at the sight, and he
+caught hold of a bough, and fell to plucking and eating.&nbsp;
+But whiles he was amidst of this, he heard suddenly, close anigh
+him, a strange noise of roaring and braying, not very great, but
+exceeding fierce and terrible, and not like to the voice of any
+beast that he knew.&nbsp; As has been aforesaid, Walter was no
+faint-heart; but what with the weakness of his travail and
+hunger, what with the strangeness of his adventure and his
+loneliness, his spirit failed him; he turned round towards the
+noise, his knees shook and he trembled: this way and that he
+looked, and then gave a great cry and tumbled down in a swoon;
+for close before him, at his very feet, was the dwarf whose image
+he had seen before, clad in his yellow coat, and grinning up at
+him from his hideous hairy countenance.</p>
+<p>How long he lay there as one dead, he knew not, but when he
+woke again there was the dwarf sitting on his hams close by
+him.&nbsp; And when he lifted up his head, the dwarf sent out
+that fearful harsh voice again; but this time Walter could make
+out words therein, and knew that the creature spoke and said:</p>
+<p>&ldquo;How now!&nbsp; What art thou?&nbsp; Whence
+comest?&nbsp; What wantest?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>Walter sat up and said: &ldquo;I am a man; I hight Golden
+Walter; I come from Langton; I want victual.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>Said the dwarf, writhing his face grievously, and laughing
+forsooth: &ldquo;I know it all: I asked thee to see what wise
+thou wouldst lie.&nbsp; I was sent forth to look for thee; and I
+have brought thee loathsome bread with me, such as ye aliens must
+needs eat: take it!&rdquo;</p>
+<p>Therewith he drew a loaf from a satchel which he bore, and
+thrust it towards Walter, who took it somewhat doubtfully for all
+his hunger.</p>
+<p>The dwarf yelled at him: &ldquo;Art thou dainty, alien?&nbsp;
+Wouldst thou have flesh?&nbsp; Well, give me thy bow and an arrow
+or two, since thou art lazy-sick, and I will get thee a coney or
+a hare, or a quail maybe.&nbsp; Ah, I forgot; thou art dainty,
+and wilt not eat flesh as I do, blood and all together, but must
+needs half burn it in the fire, or mar it with hot water; as they
+say my Lady does: or as the Wretch, the Thing does; I know that,
+for I have seen It eating.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Nay,&rdquo; said Walter, &ldquo;this sufficeth;&rdquo;
+and he fell to eating the bread, which was sweet between his
+teeth.&nbsp; Then when he had eaten a while, for hunger compelled
+him, he said to the dwarf: &ldquo;But what meanest thou by the
+Wretch and the Thing?&nbsp; And what Lady is thy Lady?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>The creature let out another wordless roar as of furious
+anger; and then the words came: &ldquo;It hath a face white and
+red, like to thine; and hands white as thine, yea, but whiter;
+and the like it is underneath its raiment, only whiter still: for
+I have seen It&mdash;yes, I have seen It; ah yes and yes and
+yes.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>And therewith his words ran into gibber and yelling, and he
+rolled about and smote at the grass: but in a while he grew quiet
+again and sat still, and then fell to laughing horribly again,
+and then said: &ldquo;But thou, fool, wilt think It fair if thou
+fallest into Its hands, and wilt repent it thereafter, as I
+did.&nbsp; Oh, the mocking and gibes of It, and the tears and
+shrieks of It; and the knife!&nbsp; What! sayest thou of my
+Lady?&mdash;What Lady?&nbsp; O alien, what other Lady is
+there?&nbsp; And what shall I tell thee of her? it is like that
+she made me, as she made the Bear men.&nbsp; But she made not the
+Wretch, the Thing; and she hateth It sorely, as I do.&nbsp; And
+some day to come&mdash;&rdquo;</p>
+<p>Thereat he brake off and fell to wordless yelling a long
+while, and thereafter spake all panting: &ldquo;Now I have told
+thee overmuch, and O if my Lady come to hear thereof.&nbsp; Now I
+will go.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>And therewith he took out two more loaves from his wallet, and
+tossed them to Walter, and so turned and went his ways; whiles
+walking upright, as Walter had seen his image on the quay of
+Langton; whiles bounding and rolling like a ball thrown by a lad;
+whiles scuttling along on all-fours like an evil beast, and ever
+and anon giving forth that harsh and evil cry.</p>
+<p>Walter sat a while after he was out of sight, so stricken with
+horror and loathing and a fear of he knew not what, that he might
+not move.&nbsp; Then he plucked up a heart, and looked to his
+weapons and put the other loaves into his scrip.</p>
+<p>Then he arose and went his ways wondering, yea and dreading,
+what kind of creature he should next fall in with.&nbsp; For
+soothly it seemed to him that it would be worse than death if
+they were all such as this one; and that if it were so, he must
+needs slay and be slain.</p>
+<h2>CHAPTER X: WALTER HAPPENETH ON ANOTHER CREATURE IN THE
+STRANGE LAND</h2>
+<p>But as he went on through the fair and sweet land so bright
+and sun-litten, and he now rested and fed, the horror and fear
+ran off from him, and he wandered on merrily, neither did aught
+befall him save the coming of night, when he laid him down under
+a great spreading oak with his drawn sword ready to hand, and
+fell asleep at once, and woke not till the sun was high.</p>
+<p>Then he arose and went on his way again; and the land was no
+worser than yesterday; but even better, it might be; the
+greensward more flowery, the oaks and chestnuts greater.&nbsp;
+Deer of diverse kinds he saw, and might easily have got his meat
+thereof; but he meddled not with them since he had his bread, and
+was timorous of lighting a fire.&nbsp; Withal he doubted little
+of having some entertainment; and that, might be, nought evil;
+since even that fearful dwarf had been courteous to him after his
+kind, and had done him good and not harm.&nbsp; But of the
+happening on the Wretch and the Thing, whereof the dwarf spake,
+he was yet somewhat afeard.</p>
+<p>After he had gone a while and whenas the summer morn was at
+its brightest, he saw a little way ahead a grey rock rising up
+from amidst of a ring of oak-trees; so he turned thither
+straightway; for in this plain-land he had seen no rocks
+heretofore; and as he went he saw that there was a fountain
+gushing out from under the rock, which ran thence in a fair
+little stream.&nbsp; And when he had the rock and the fountain
+and the stream clear before him, lo! a child of Adam sitting
+beside the fountain under the shadow of the rock.&nbsp; He drew a
+little nigher, and then he saw that it was a woman, clad in green
+like the sward whereon she lay.&nbsp; She was playing with the
+welling out of the water, and she had trussed up her sleeves to
+the shoulder that she might thrust her bare arms therein.&nbsp;
+Her shoes of black leather lay on the grass beside her, and her
+feet and legs yet shone with the brook.</p>
+<p>Belike amidst the splashing and clatter of the water she did
+not hear him drawing nigh, so that he was close to her before she
+lifted up her face and saw him, and he beheld her, that it was
+the maiden of the thrice-seen pageant.&nbsp; She reddened when
+she saw him, and hastily covered up her legs with her gown-skirt,
+and drew down the sleeves over her arms, but otherwise stirred
+not.&nbsp; As for him, he stood still, striving to speak to her;
+but no word might he bring out, and his heart beat sorely.</p>
+<p>But the maiden spake to him in a clear sweet voice, wherein
+was now no trouble: &ldquo;Thou art an alien, art thou not?&nbsp;
+For I have not seen thee before.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Yea,&rdquo; he said, &ldquo;I am an alien; wilt thou be
+good to me?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>She said: &ldquo;And why not?&nbsp; I was afraid at first, for
+I thought it had been the King&rsquo;s Son.&nbsp; I looked to see
+none other; for of goodly men he has been the only one here in
+the land this long while, till thy coming.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>He said: &ldquo;Didst thou look for my coming at about this
+time?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;O nay,&rdquo; she said; &ldquo;how might I?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>Said Walter: &ldquo;I wot not; but the other man seemed to be
+looking for me, and knew of me, and he brought me bread to
+eat.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>She looked on him anxiously, and grew somewhat pale, as she
+said: &ldquo;What other one?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>Now Walter did not know what the dwarf might be to her,
+fellow-servant or what not, so he would not show his loathing of
+him; but answered wisely: &ldquo;The little man in the yellow
+raiment.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>But when she heard that word, she went suddenly very pale, and
+leaned her head aback, and beat the air with her hands; but said
+presently in a faint voice: &ldquo;I pray thee talk not of that
+one while I am by, nor even think of him, if thou mayest
+forbear.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>He spake not, and she was a little while before she came to
+herself again; then she opened her eyes, and looked upon Walter
+and smiled kindly on him, as though to ask his pardon for having
+scared him.&nbsp; Then she rose up in her place, and stood before
+him; and they were nigh together, for the stream betwixt them was
+little.</p>
+<p>But he still looked anxiously upon her and said: &ldquo;Have I
+hurt thee?&nbsp; I pray thy pardon.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>She looked on him more sweetly still, and said: &ldquo;O nay;
+thou wouldst not hurt me, thou!&rdquo;</p>
+<p>Then she blushed very red, and he in like wise; but afterwards
+she turned pale, and laid a hand on her breast, and Walter cried
+out hastily: &ldquo;O me!&nbsp; I have hurt thee again.&nbsp;
+Wherein have I done amiss?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;In nought, in nought,&rdquo; she said; &ldquo;but I am
+troubled, I wot not wherefore; some thought hath taken hold of
+me, and I know it not.&nbsp; Mayhappen in a little while I shall
+know what troubles me.&nbsp; Now I bid thee depart from me a
+little, and I will abide here; and when thou comest back, it will
+either be that I have found it out or not; and in either case I
+will tell thee.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>She spoke earnestly to him; but he said: &ldquo;How long shall
+I abide away?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>Her face was troubled as she answered him: &ldquo;For no long
+while.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>He smiled on her and turned away, and went a space to the
+other side of the oak-trees, whence she was still within
+eyeshot.&nbsp; There he abode until the time seemed long to him;
+but he schooled himself and forbore; for he said: Lest she send
+me away again.&nbsp; So he abided until again the time seemed
+long to him, and she called not to him: but once again he forbore
+to go; then at last he arose, and his heart beat and he trembled,
+and he walked back again speedily, and came to the maiden, who
+was still standing by the rock of the spring, her arms hanging
+down, her eyes downcast.&nbsp; She looked up at him as he drew
+nigh, and her face changed with eagerness as she said: &ldquo;I
+am glad thou art come back, though it be no long while since thy
+departure&rdquo; (sooth to say it was scarce half an hour in
+all).&nbsp; &ldquo;Nevertheless I have been thinking many things,
+and thereof will I now tell thee.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>He said: &ldquo;Maiden, there is a river betwixt us, though it
+be no big one.&nbsp; Shall I not stride over, and come to thee,
+that we may sit down together side by side on the green
+grass?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Nay,&rdquo; she said, &ldquo;not yet; tarry a while
+till I have told thee of matters.&nbsp; I must now tell thee of
+my thoughts in order.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>Her colour went and came now, and she plaited the folds of her
+gown with restless fingers.&nbsp; At last she said: &ldquo;Now
+the first thing is this; that though thou hast seen me first only
+within this hour, thou hast set thine heart upon me to have me
+for thy speech-friend and thy darling.&nbsp; And if this be not
+so, then is all my speech, yea and all my hope, come to an end at
+once.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;O yea!&rdquo; said Walter, &ldquo;even so it is: but
+how thou hast found this out I wot not; since now for the first
+time I say it, that thou art indeed my love, and my dear and my
+darling.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Hush,&rdquo; she said, &ldquo;hush! lest the wood have
+ears, and thy speech is loud: abide, and I shall tell thee how I
+know it.&nbsp; Whether this thy love shall outlast the first time
+that thou holdest my body in thine arms, I wot not, nor dost
+thou.&nbsp; But sore is my hope that it may be so; for I also,
+though it be but scarce an hour since I set eyes on thee, have
+cast mine eyes on thee to have thee for my love and my darling,
+and my speech-friend.&nbsp; And this is how I wot that thou
+lovest me, my friend.&nbsp; Now is all this dear and joyful, and
+overflows my heart with sweetness.&nbsp; But now must I tell thee
+of the fear and the evil which lieth behind it.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>Then Walter stretched out his hands to her, and cried out:
+&ldquo;Yea, yea!&nbsp; But whatever evil entangle us, now we both
+know these two things, to wit, that thou lovest me, and I thee,
+wilt thou not come hither, that I may cast mine arms about thee,
+and kiss thee, if not thy kind lips or thy friendly face at all,
+yet at least thy dear hand: yea, that I may touch thy body in
+some wise?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>She looked on him steadily, and said softly: &ldquo;Nay, this
+above all things must not be; and that it may not be is a part of
+the evil which entangles us.&nbsp; But hearken, friend, once
+again I tell thee that thy voice is over loud in this wilderness
+fruitful of evil.&nbsp; Now I have told thee, indeed, of two
+things whereof we both wot; but next I must needs tell thee of
+things whereof I wot, and thou wottest not.&nbsp; Yet this were
+better, that thou pledge thy word not to touch so much as one of
+my hands, and that we go together a little way hence away from
+these tumbled stones, and sit down upon the open greensward;
+whereas here is cover if there be spying abroad.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>Again, as she spoke, she turned very pale; but Walter said:
+&ldquo;Since it must be so, I pledge thee my word to thee as I
+love thee.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>And therewith she knelt down, and did on her foot-gear, and
+then sprang lightly over the rivulet; and then the twain of them
+went side by side some half a furlong thence, and sat down,
+shadowed by the boughs of a slim quicken-tree growing up out of
+the greensward, whereon for a good space around was neither bush
+nor brake.</p>
+<p>There began the maiden to talk soberly, and said: &ldquo;This
+is what I must needs say to thee now, that thou art come into a
+land perilous for any one that loveth aught of good; from which,
+forsooth, I were fain that thou wert gotten away safely, even
+though I should die of longing for thee.&nbsp; As for myself, my
+peril is, in a measure, less than thine; I mean the peril of
+death.&nbsp; But lo, thou, this iron on my foot is token that I
+am a thrall, and thou knowest in what wise thralls must pay for
+transgressions.&nbsp; Furthermore, of what I am, and how I came
+hither, time would fail me to tell; but somewhile, maybe, I shall
+tell thee.&nbsp; I serve an evil mistress, of whom I may say that
+scarce I wot if she be a woman or not; but by some creatures is
+she accounted for a god, and as a god is heried; and surely never
+god was crueller nor colder than she.&nbsp; Me she hateth sorely;
+yet if she hated me little or nought, small were the gain to me
+if it were her pleasure to deal hardly by me.&nbsp; But as things
+now are, and are like to be, it would not be for her pleasure,
+but for her pain and loss, to make an end of me, therefore, as I
+said e&rsquo;en now, my mere life is not in peril with her;
+unless, perchance, some sudden passion get the better of her, and
+she slay me, and repent of it thereafter.&nbsp; For so it is,
+that if it be the least evil of her conditions that she is
+wanton, at least wanton she is to the letter.&nbsp; Many a time
+hath she cast the net for the catching of some goodly young man;
+and her latest prey (save it be thou) is the young man whom I
+named, when first I saw thee, by the name of the King&rsquo;s
+Son.&nbsp; He is with us yet, and I fear him; for of late hath he
+wearied of her, though it is but plain truth to say of her, that
+she is the wonder of all Beauties of the World.&nbsp; He hath
+wearied of her, I say, and hath cast his eyes upon me, and if I
+were heedless, he would betray me to the uttermost of the wrath
+of my mistress.&nbsp; For needs must I say of him, though he be a
+goodly man, and now fallen into thralldom, that he hath no bowels
+of compassion; but is a dastard, who for an hour&rsquo;s pleasure
+would undo me, and thereafter would stand by smiling and taking
+my mistress&rsquo;s pardon with good cheer, while for me would be
+no pardon.&nbsp; Seest thou, therefore, how it is with me between
+these two cruel fools?&nbsp; And moreover there are others of
+whom I will not even speak to thee.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>And therewith she put her hands before her face, and wept, and
+murmured: &ldquo;Who shall deliver me from this death in
+life?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>But Walter cried out: &ldquo;For what else am I come hither,
+I, I?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>And it was a near thing that he did not take her in his arms,
+but he remembered his pledged word, and drew aback from her in
+terror, whereas he had an inkling of why she would not suffer it;
+and he wept with her.</p>
+<p>But suddenly the Maid left weeping, and said in a changed
+voice: &ldquo;Friend, whereas thou speakest of delivering me, it
+is more like that I shall deliver thee.&nbsp; And now I pray thy
+pardon for thus grieving thee with my grief, and that more
+especially because thou mayst not solace thy grief with kisses
+and caresses; but so it was, that for once I was smitten by the
+thought of the anguish of this land, and the joy of all the world
+besides.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>Therewith she caught her breath in a half-sob, but refrained
+her and went on: &ldquo;Now dear friend and darling, take good
+heed to all that I shall say to thee, whereas thou must do after
+the teaching of my words.&nbsp; And first, I deem by the monster
+having met thee at the gates of the land, and refreshed thee,
+that the Mistress hath looked for thy coming; nay, by thy coming
+hither at all, that she hath cast her net and caught thee.&nbsp;
+Hast thou noted aught that might seem to make this more
+like?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>Said Walter: &ldquo;Three times in full daylight have I seen
+go past me the images of the monster and thee and a glorious
+lady, even as if ye were alive.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>And therewith he told her in few words how it had gone with
+him since that day on the quay at Langton.</p>
+<p>She said: &ldquo;Then it is no longer perhaps, but certain,
+that thou art her latest catch; and even so I deemed from the
+first: and, dear friend, this is why I have not suffered thee to
+kiss or caress me, so sore as I longed for thee.&nbsp; For the
+Mistress will have thee for her only, and hath lured thee hither
+for nought else; and she is wise in wizardry (even as some deal
+am I), and wert thou to touch me with hand or mouth on my naked
+flesh, yea, or were it even my raiment, then would she scent the
+savour of thy love upon me, and then, though it may be she would
+spare thee, she would not spare me.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>Then was she silent a little, and seemed very downcast, and
+Walter held his peace from grief and confusion and helplessness;
+for of wizardry he knew nought.</p>
+<p>At last the Maid spake again, and said: &ldquo;Nevertheless we
+will not die redeless.&nbsp; Now thou must look to this, that
+from henceforward it is thee, and not the King&rsquo;s Son, whom
+she desireth, and that so much the more that she hath not set
+eyes on thee.&nbsp; Remember this, whatsoever her seeming may be
+to thee.&nbsp; Now, therefore, shall the King&rsquo;s Son be
+free, though he know it not, to cast his love on whomso he will;
+and, in a way, I also shall be free to yeasay him.&nbsp; Though,
+forsooth, so fulfilled is she with malice and spite, that even
+then she may turn round on me to punish me for doing that which
+she would have me do.&nbsp; Now let me think of it.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>Then was she silent a good while, and spoke at last:
+&ldquo;Yea, all things are perilous, and a perilous rede I have
+thought of, whereof I will not tell thee as yet; so waste not the
+short while by asking me.&nbsp; At least the worst will be no
+worse than what shall come if we strive not against it.&nbsp; And
+now, my friend, amongst perils it is growing more and more
+perilous that we twain should be longer together.&nbsp; But I
+would say one thing yet; and maybe another thereafter.&nbsp; Thou
+hast cast thy love upon one who will be true to thee, whatsoever
+may befall; yet is she a guileful creature, and might not help it
+her life long, and now for thy very sake must needs be more
+guileful now than ever before.&nbsp; And as for me, the guileful,
+my love have I cast upon a lovely man, and one true and simple,
+and a stout-heart; but at such a pinch is he, that if he
+withstand all temptation, his withstanding may belike undo both
+him and me.&nbsp; Therefore swear we both of us, that by both of
+us shall all guile and all falling away be forgiven on the day
+when we shall be free to love each the other as our hearts
+will.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>Walter cried out: &ldquo;O love, I swear it indeed! thou art
+my Hallow, and I will swear it as on the relics of a Hallow; on
+thy hands and thy feet I swear it.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>The words seemed to her a dear caress; and she laughed, and
+blushed, and looked full kindly on him; and then her face grew
+solemn, and she said: &ldquo;On thy life I swear it!&rdquo;</p>
+<p>Then she said: &ldquo;Now is there nought for thee to do but
+to go hence straight to the Golden House, which is my
+Mistress&rsquo;s house, and the only house in this land (save one
+which I may not see), and lieth southward no long way.&nbsp; How
+she will deal with thee, I wot not; but all I have said of her
+and thee and the King&rsquo;s Son is true.&nbsp; Therefore I say
+to thee, be wary and cold at heart, whatsoever outward semblance
+thou mayst make.&nbsp; If thou have to yield thee to her, then
+yield rather late than early, so as to gain time.&nbsp; Yet not
+so late as to seem shamed in yielding for fear&rsquo;s
+sake.&nbsp; Hold fast to thy life, my friend, for in warding
+that, thou wardest me from grief without remedy.&nbsp; Thou wilt
+see me ere long; it may be to-morrow, it may be some days
+hence.&nbsp; But forget not, that what I may do, that I am
+doing.&nbsp; Take heed also that thou pay no more heed to me, or
+rather less, than if thou wert meeting a maiden of no account in
+the streets of thine own town.&nbsp; O my love! barren is this
+first farewell, as was our first meeting; but surely shall there
+be another meeting better than the first, and the last farewell
+may be long and long yet.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>Therewith she stood up, and he knelt before her a little while
+without any word, and then arose and went his ways; but when he
+had gone a space he turned about, and saw her still standing in
+the same place; she stayed a moment when she saw him turn, and
+then herself turned about.</p>
+<p>So he departed through the fair land, and his heart was full
+with hope and fear as he went.</p>
+<h2>CHAPTER XI: WALTER HAPPENETH ON THE MISTRESS</h2>
+<p>It was but a little after noon when Walter left the Maid
+behind: he steered south by the sun, as the Maid had bidden him,
+and went swiftly; for, as a good knight wending to battle, the
+time seemed long to him till he should meet the foe.</p>
+<p>So an hour before sunset he saw something white and gay
+gleaming through the boles of the oak-trees, and presently there
+was clear before him a most goodly house builded of white marble,
+carved all about with knots and imagery, and the carven folk were
+all painted of their lively colours, whether it were their
+raiment or their flesh, and the housings wherein they stood all
+done with gold and fair hues.&nbsp; Gay were the windows of the
+house; and there was a pillared porch before the great door, with
+images betwixt the pillars both of men and beasts: and when
+Walter looked up to the roof of the house, he saw that it gleamed
+and shone; for all the tiles were of yellow metal, which he
+deemed to be of very gold.</p>
+<p>All this he saw as he went, and tarried not to gaze upon it;
+for he said, Belike there will be time for me to look on all this
+before I die.&nbsp; But he said also, that, though the house was
+not of the greatest, it was beyond compare of all houses of the
+world.</p>
+<p>Now he entered it by the porch, and came into a hall
+many-pillared, and vaulted over, the walls painted with gold and
+ultramarine, the floor dark, and spangled with many colours, and
+the windows glazed with knots and pictures.&nbsp; Midmost thereof
+was a fountain of gold, whence the water ran two ways in
+gold-lined runnels, spanned twice with little bridges of
+silver.&nbsp; Long was that hall, and now not very light, so that
+Walter was come past the fountain before he saw any folk therein:
+then he looked up toward the high-seat, and himseemed that a
+great light shone thence, and dazzled his eyes; and he went on a
+little way, and then fell on his knees; for there before him on
+the high-seat sat that wondrous Lady, whose lively image had been
+shown to him thrice before; and she was clad in gold and jewels,
+as he had erst seen her.&nbsp; But now she was not alone; for by
+her side sat a young man, goodly enough, so far as Walter might
+see him, and most richly clad, with a jewelled sword by his side,
+and a chaplet of gems on his head.&nbsp; They held each other by
+the hand, and seemed to be in dear converse together; but they
+spake softly, so that Walter might not hear what they said, till
+at last the man spake aloud to the Lady: &ldquo;Seest thou not
+that there is a man in the hall?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Yea,&rdquo; she said, &ldquo;I see him yonder, kneeling
+on his knees; let him come nigher and give some account of
+himself.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>So Walter stood up and drew nigh, and stood there, all
+shamefaced and confused, looking on those twain, and wondering at
+the beauty of the Lady.&nbsp; As for the man, who was slim, and
+black-haired, and straight-featured, for all his goodliness
+Walter accounted him little, and nowise deemed him to look
+chieftain-like.</p>
+<p>Now the Lady spake not to Walter any more than erst; but at
+last the man said: &ldquo;Why doest thou not kneel as thou didst
+erewhile?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>Walter was on the point of giving him back a fierce answer;
+but the Lady spake and said: &ldquo;Nay, friend, it matters not
+whether he kneel or stand; but he may say, if he will, what he
+would have of me, and wherefore he is come hither.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>Then spake Walter, for as wroth and ashamed as he was:
+&ldquo;Lady, I have strayed into this land, and have come to
+thine house as I suppose, and if I be not welcome, I may well
+depart straightway, and seek a way out of thy land, if thou
+wouldst drive me thence, as well as out of thine
+house.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>Thereat the Lady turned and looked on him, and when her eyes
+met his, he felt a pang of fear and desire mingled shoot through
+his heart.&nbsp; This time she spoke to him; but coldly, without
+either wrath or any thought of him: &ldquo;Newcomer,&rdquo; she
+said, &ldquo;I have not bidden thee hither; but here mayst thou
+abide a while if thou wilt; nevertheless, take heed that here is
+no King&rsquo;s Court.&nbsp; There is, forsooth, a folk that
+serveth me (or, it may be, more than one), of whom thou wert best
+to know nought.&nbsp; Of others I have but two servants, whom
+thou wilt see; and the one is a strange creature, who should
+scare thee or scathe thee with a good will, but of a good will
+shall serve nought save me; the other is a woman, a thrall, of
+little avail, save that, being compelled, she will work
+woman&rsquo;s service for me, but whom none else shall compel . .
+. Yea, but what is all this to thee; or to me that I should tell
+it to thee?&nbsp; I will not drive thee away; but if thine
+entertainment please thee not, make no plaint thereof to me, but
+depart at thy will.&nbsp; Now is this talk betwixt us overlong,
+since, as thou seest, I and this King&rsquo;s Son are in converse
+together.&nbsp; Art thou a King&rsquo;s Son?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Nay, Lady,&rdquo; said Walter, &ldquo;I am but of the
+sons of the merchants.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;It matters not,&rdquo; she said; &ldquo;go thy ways
+into one of the chambers.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>And straightway she fell a-talking to the man who sat beside
+her concerning the singing of the birds beneath her window in the
+morning; and of how she had bathed her that day in a pool of the
+woodlands, when she had been heated with hunting, and so forth;
+and all as if there had been none there save her and the
+King&rsquo;s Son.</p>
+<p>But Walter departed all ashamed, as though he had been a poor
+man thrust away from a rich kinsman&rsquo;s door; and he said to
+himself that this woman was hateful, and nought love-worthy, and
+that she was little like to tempt him, despite all the fairness
+of her body.</p>
+<p>No one else he saw in the house that even; he found meat and
+drink duly served on a fair table, and thereafter he came on a
+goodly bed, and all things needful, but no child of Adam to do
+him service, or bid him welcome or warning.&nbsp; Nevertheless he
+ate, and drank, and slept, and put off thought of all these
+things till the morrow, all the more as he hoped to see the kind
+maiden some time betwixt sunrise and sunset on that new day.</p>
+<h2>CHAPTER XII: THE WEARING OF FOUR DAYS IN THE WOOD BEYOND THE
+WORLD</h2>
+<p>He arose betimes, but found no one to greet him, neither was
+there any sound of folk moving within the fair house; so he but
+broke his fast, and then went forth and wandered amongst the
+trees, till he found him a stream to bathe in, and after he had
+washed the night off him he lay down under a tree thereby for a
+while, but soon turned back toward the house, lest perchance the
+Maid should come thither and he should miss her.</p>
+<p>It should be said that half a bow-shot from the house on that
+side (i.e. due north thereof) was a little hazel-brake, and round
+about it the trees were smaller of kind than the oaks and
+chestnuts he had passed through before, being mostly of birch and
+quicken-beam and young ash, with small wood betwixt them; so now
+he passed through the thicket, and, coming to the edge thereof,
+beheld the Lady and the King&rsquo;s Son walking together hand in
+hand, full lovingly by seeming.</p>
+<p>He deemed it unmeet to draw back and hide him, so he went
+forth past them toward the house.&nbsp; The King&rsquo;s Son
+scowled on him as he passed, but the Lady, over whose beauteous
+face flickered the joyous morning smiles, took no more heed of
+him than if he had been one of the trees of the wood.&nbsp; But
+she had been so high and disdainful with him the evening before,
+that he thought little of that.&nbsp; The twain went on, skirting
+the hazel-copse, and he could not choose but turn his eyes on
+them, so sorely did the Lady&rsquo;s beauty draw them.&nbsp; Then
+befell another thing; for behind them the boughs of the hazels
+parted, and there stood that little evil thing, he or another of
+his kind; for he was quite unclad, save by his fell of
+yellowy-brown hair, and that he was girt with a leathern girdle,
+wherein was stuck an ugly two-edged knife: he stood upright a
+moment, and cast his eyes at Walter and grinned, but not as if he
+knew him; and scarce could Walter say whether it were the one he
+had seen, or another: then he cast himself down on his belly, and
+fell to creeping through the long grass like a serpent, following
+the footsteps of the Lady and her lover; and now, as he crept,
+Walter deemed, in his loathing, that the creature was liker to a
+ferret than aught else.&nbsp; He crept on marvellous swiftly, and
+was soon clean out of sight.&nbsp; But Walter stood staring after
+him for a while, and then lay down by the copse-side, that he
+might watch the house and the entry thereof; for he thought, now
+perchance presently will the kind maiden come hither to comfort
+me with a word or two.&nbsp; But hour passed by hour, and still
+she came not; and still he lay there, and thought of the Maid,
+and longed for her kindness and wisdom, till he could not refrain
+his tears, and wept for the lack of her.&nbsp; Then he arose, and
+went and sat in the porch, and was very downcast of mood.</p>
+<p>But as he sat there, back comes the Lady again, the
+King&rsquo;s Son leading her by the hand; they entered the porch,
+and she passed by him so close that the odour of her raiment
+filled all the air about him, and the sleekness of her side nigh
+touched him, so that he could not fail to note that her garments
+were somewhat disarrayed, and that she kept her right hand (for
+her left the King&rsquo;s Son held) to her bosom to hold the
+cloth together there, whereas the rich raiment had been torn off
+from her right shoulder.&nbsp; As they passed by him, the
+King&rsquo;s Son once more scowled on him, wordless, but even
+more fiercely than before; and again the Lady heeded him
+nought.</p>
+<p>After they had gone on a while, he entered the hall, and found
+it empty from end to end, and no sound in it save the tinkling of
+the fountain; but there was victual set on the board.&nbsp; He
+ate and drank thereof to keep life lusty within him, and then
+went out again to the wood-side to watch and to long; and the
+time hung heavy on his hands because of the lack of the fair
+Maiden.</p>
+<p>He was of mind not to go into the house to his rest that
+night, but to sleep under the boughs of the forest.&nbsp; But a
+little after sunset he saw a bright-clad image moving amidst the
+carven images of the porch, and the King&rsquo;s Son came forth
+and went straight to him, and said: &ldquo;Thou art to enter the
+house, and go into thy chamber forthwith, and by no means to go
+forth of it betwixt sunset and sunrise.&nbsp; My Lady will not
+away with thy prowling round the house in the
+night-tide.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>Therewith he turned away, and went into the house again; and
+Walter followed him soberly, remembering how the Maid had bidden
+him forbear.&nbsp; So he went to his chamber, and slept.</p>
+<p>But amidst of the night he awoke and deemed that he heard a
+voice not far off, so he crept out of his bed and peered around,
+lest, perchance, the Maid had come to speak with him; but his
+chamber was dusk and empty: then he went to the window and looked
+out, and saw the moon shining bright and white upon the
+greensward.&nbsp; And lo! the Lady walking with the King&rsquo;s
+Son, and he clad in thin and wanton raiment, but she in nought
+else save what God had given her of long, crispy yellow
+hair.&nbsp; Then was Walter ashamed to look on her, seeing that
+there was a man with her, and gat him back to his bed; but yet a
+long while ere he slept again he had the image before his eyes of
+the fair woman on the dewy moonlit grass.</p>
+<p>The next day matters went much the same way, and the next
+also, save that his sorrow was increased, and he sickened sorely
+of hope deferred.&nbsp; On the fourth day also the forenoon wore
+as erst; but in the heat of the afternoon Walter sought to the
+hazel-copse, and laid him down there hard by a little clearing
+thereof, and slept from very weariness of grief.&nbsp; There,
+after a while, he woke with words still hanging in his ears, and
+he knew at once that it was they twain talking together.</p>
+<p>The King&rsquo;s Son had just done his say, and now it was the
+Lady beginning in her honey-sweet voice, low but strong, wherein
+even was a little of huskiness; she said: &ldquo;Otto, belike it
+were well to have a little patience, till we find out what the
+man is, and whence he cometh; it will always be easy to rid us of
+him; it is but a word to our Dwarf-king, and it will be done in a
+few minutes.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Patience!&rdquo; said the King&rsquo;s Son, angrily;
+&ldquo;I wot not how to have patience with him; for I can see of
+him that he is rude and violent and headstrong, and a low-born
+wily one.&nbsp; Forsooth, he had patience enough with me the
+other even, when I rated him in, like the dog that he is, and he
+had no manhood to say one word to me.&nbsp; Soothly, as he
+followed after me, I had a mind to turn about and deal him a
+buffet on the face, to see if I could but draw one angry word
+from him.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>The Lady laughed, and said: &ldquo;Well, Otto, I know not;
+that which thou deemest dastardy in him may be but prudence and
+wisdom, and he an alien, far from his friends and nigh to his
+foes.&nbsp; Perchance we shall yet try him what he is.&nbsp;
+Meanwhile, I rede thee try him not with buffets, save he be
+weaponless and with bounden hands; or else I deem that but a
+little while shalt thou be fain of thy blow.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>Now when Walter heard her words and the voice wherein they
+were said, he might not forbear being stirred by them, and to
+him, all lonely there, they seemed friendly.</p>
+<p>But he lay still, and the King&rsquo;s Son answered the Lady
+and said: &ldquo;I know not what is in thine heart concerning
+this runagate, that thou shouldst bemock me with his valiancy,
+whereof thou knowest nought.&nbsp; If thou deem me unworthy of
+thee, send me back safe to my father&rsquo;s country; I may look
+to have worship there; yea, and the love of fair women
+belike.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>Therewith it seemed as if he had put forth his hand to the
+Lady to caress her, for she said: &ldquo;Nay, lay not thine hand
+on my shoulder, for to-day and now it is not the hand of love,
+but of pride and folly, and would-be mastery.&nbsp; Nay, neither
+shalt thou rise up and leave me until thy mood is softer and
+kinder to me.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>Then was there silence betwixt them a while, and thereafter
+the King&rsquo;s Son spake in a wheedling voice: &ldquo;My
+goddess, I pray thee pardon me!&nbsp; But canst thou wonder that
+I fear thy wearying of me, and am therefore peevish and jealous?
+thou so far above the Queens of the World, and I a poor youth
+that without thee were nothing!&rdquo;</p>
+<p>She answered nought, and he went on again: &ldquo;Was it not
+so, O goddess, that this man of the sons of the merchants was
+little heedful of thee, and thy loveliness and thy
+majesty?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>She laughed and said: &ldquo;Maybe he deemed not that he had
+much to gain of us, seeing thee sitting by our side, and whereas
+we spake to him coldly and sternly and disdainfully.&nbsp;
+Withal, the poor youth was dazzled and shamefaced before us; that
+we could see in the eyes and the mien of him.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>Now this she spoke so kindly and sweetly, that again was
+Walter all stirred thereat; and it came into his mind that it
+might be she knew he was anigh and hearing her, and that she
+spake as much for him as for the King&rsquo;s Son: but that one
+answered: &ldquo;Lady, didst thou not see somewhat else in his
+eyes, to wit, that they had but of late looked on some fair woman
+other than thee?&nbsp; As for me, I deem it not so unlike that on
+the way to thine hall he may have fallen in with thy
+Maid.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>He spoke in a faltering voice, as if shrinking from some storm
+that might come.&nbsp; And forsooth the Lady&rsquo;s voice was
+changed as she answered, though there was no outward heat in it;
+rather it was sharp and eager and cold at once.&nbsp; She said:
+&ldquo;Yea, that is not ill thought of; but we may not always
+keep our thrall in mind.&nbsp; If it be so as thou deemest, we
+shall come to know it most like when we next fall in with her; or
+if she hath been shy this time, then shall she pay the heavier
+for it; for we will question her by the Fountain in the Hall as
+to what betid by the Fountain of the Rock.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>Spake the King&rsquo;s Son, faltering yet more: &ldquo;Lady,
+were it not better to question the man himself? the Maid is
+stout-hearted, and will not be speedily quelled into a true tale;
+whereas the man I deem of no account.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;No, no,&rdquo; said the Lady sharply, &ldquo;it shall
+not be.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>Then was she silent a while; and then she said: &ldquo;How if
+the man should prove to be our master?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Nay, our Lady,&rdquo; said the King&rsquo;s Son,
+&ldquo;thou art jesting with me; thou and thy might and thy
+wisdom, and all that thy wisdom may command, to be over-mastered
+by a gangrel churl!&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;But how if I will not have it command, King&rsquo;s
+Son?&rdquo; said the Lady.&nbsp; &ldquo;I tell thee I know thine
+heart, but thou knowest not mine.&nbsp; But be at peace!&nbsp;
+For since thou hast prayed for this woman&mdash;nay, not with thy
+words, I wot, but with thy trembling hands, and thine anxious
+eyes, and knitted brow&mdash;I say, since thou hast prayed for
+her so earnestly, she shall escape this time.&nbsp; But whether
+it will be to her gain in the long run, I misdoubt me.&nbsp; See
+thou to that, Otto! thou who hast held me in thine arms so
+oft.&nbsp; And now thou mayest depart if thou wilt.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>It seemed to Walter as if the King&rsquo;s Son were
+dumbfoundered at her words: he answered nought, and presently he
+rose from the ground, and went his ways slowly toward the
+house.&nbsp; The Lady lay there a little while, and then went her
+ways also; but turned away from the house toward the wood at the
+other end thereof, whereby Walter had first come thither.</p>
+<p>As for Walter, he was confused in mind and shaken in spirit;
+and withal he seemed to see guile and cruel deeds under the talk
+of those two, and waxed wrathful thereat.&nbsp; Yet he said to
+himself, that nought might he do, but was as one bound hand and
+foot, till he had seen the Maid again.</p>
+<h2>CHAPTER XIII: NOW IS THE HUNT UP</h2>
+<p>Next morning was he up betimes, but he was cast down and heavy
+of heart, not looking for aught else to betide than had betid
+those last four days.&nbsp; But otherwise it fell out; for when
+he came down into the hall, there was the lady sitting on the
+high-seat all alone, clad but in a coat of white linen; and she
+turned her head when she heard his footsteps, and looked on him,
+and greeted him, and said: &ldquo;Come hither, guest.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>So he went and stood before her, and she said: &ldquo;Though
+as yet thou hast had no welcome here, and no honour, it hath not
+entered into thine heart to flee from us; and to say sooth, that
+is well for thee, for flee away from our hand thou mightest not,
+nor mightest thou depart without our furtherance.&nbsp; But for
+this we can thee thank, that thou hast abided here our bidding
+and eaten thine heart through the heavy wearing of four days, and
+made no plaint.&nbsp; Yet I cannot deem thee a dastard; thou so
+well knit and shapely of body, so clear-eyed and bold of
+visage.&nbsp; Wherefore now I ask thee, art thou willing to do me
+service, thereby to earn thy guesting?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>Walter answered her, somewhat faltering at first, for he was
+astonished at the change which had come over her; for now she
+spoke to him in friendly wise, though indeed as a great lady
+would speak to a young man ready to serve her in all
+honour.&nbsp; Said he: &ldquo;Lady, I can thank thee humbly and
+heartily in that thou biddest me do thee service; for these days
+past I have loathed the emptiness of the hours, and nought better
+could I ask for than to serve so glorious a Mistress in all
+honour.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>She frowned somewhat, and said: &ldquo;Thou shalt not call me
+Mistress; there is but one who so calleth me, that is my thrall;
+and thou art none such.&nbsp; Thou shalt call me Lady, and I
+shall be well pleased that thou be my squire, and for this
+present thou shalt serve me in the hunting.&nbsp; So get thy
+gear; take thy bow and arrows, and gird thee to thy sword.&nbsp;
+For in this fair land may one find beasts more perilous than be
+buck or hart.&nbsp; I go now to array me; we will depart while
+the day is yet young; for so make we the summer day the
+fairest.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>He made obeisance to her, and she arose and went to her
+chamber, and Walter dight himself, and then abode her in the
+porch; and in less than an hour she came out of the hall, and
+Walter&rsquo;s heart beat when he saw that the Maid followed her
+hard at heel, and scarce might he school his eyes not to gaze
+over-eagerly at his dear friend.&nbsp; She was clad even as she
+was before, and was changed in no wise, save that love troubled
+her face when she first beheld him, and she had much ado to
+master it: howbeit the Mistress heeded not the trouble of her, or
+made no semblance of heeding it, till the Maiden&rsquo;s face was
+all according to its wont.</p>
+<p>But this Walter found strange, that after all that disdain of
+the Maid&rsquo;s thralldom which he had heard of the Mistress,
+and after all the threats against her, now was the Mistress
+become mild and debonaire to her, as a good lady to her good
+maiden.&nbsp; When Walter bowed the knee to her, she turned unto
+the Maid, and said: &ldquo;Look thou, my Maid, at this fair new
+Squire that I have gotten!&nbsp; Will not he be valiant in the
+greenwood?&nbsp; And see whether he be well shapen or not.&nbsp;
+Doth he not touch thine heart, when thou thinkest of all the woe,
+and fear, and trouble of the World beyond the Wood, which he hath
+escaped, to dwell in this little land peaceably, and well-beloved
+both by the Mistress and the Maid?&nbsp; And thou, my Squire,
+look a little at this fair slim Maiden, and say if she pleaseth
+thee not: didst thou deem that we had any thing so fair in this
+lonely place?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>Frank and kind was the smile on her radiant visage, nor did
+she seem to note any whit the trouble on Walter&rsquo;s face, nor
+how he strove to keep his eyes from the Maid.&nbsp; As for her,
+she had so wholly mastered her countenance, that belike she used
+her face guilefully, for she stood as one humble but happy, with
+a smile on her face, blushing, and with her head hung down as if
+shamefaced before a goodly young man, a stranger.</p>
+<p>But the Lady looked upon her kindly and said: &ldquo;Come
+hither, child, and fear not this frank and free young man, who
+belike feareth thee a little, and full certainly feareth me; and
+yet only after the manner of men.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>And therewith she took the Maid by the hand and drew her to
+her, and pressed her to her bosom, and kissed her cheeks and her
+lips, and undid the lacing of her gown and bared a shoulder of
+her, and swept away her skirt from her feet; and then turned to
+Walter and said: &ldquo;Lo thou, Squire! is not this a lovely
+thing to have grown up amongst our rough oak-boles?&nbsp; What!
+art thou looking at the iron ring there?&nbsp; It is nought, save
+a token that she is mine, and that I may not be without
+her.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>Then she took the Maid by the shoulders and turned her about
+as in sport, and said: &ldquo;Go thou now, and bring hither the
+good grey ones; for needs must we bring home some venison to-day,
+whereas this stout warrior may not feed on nought save manchets
+and honey.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>So the Maid went her way, taking care, as Walter deemed, to
+give no side glance to him.&nbsp; But he stood there shamefaced,
+so confused with all this openhearted kindness of the great Lady
+and with the fresh sight of the darling beauty of the Maid, that
+he went nigh to thinking that all he had heard since he had come
+to the porch of the house that first time was but a dream of
+evil.</p>
+<p>But while he stood pondering these matters, and staring before
+him as one mazed, the Lady laughed out in his face, and touched
+him on the arm and said: &ldquo;Ah, our Squire, is it so that now
+thou hast seen my Maid thou wouldst with a good will abide behind
+to talk with her?&nbsp; But call to mind thy word pledged to me
+e&rsquo;en now!&nbsp; And moreover I tell thee this for thy
+behoof now she is out of ear-shot, that I will above all things
+take thee away to-day: for there be other eyes, and they nought
+uncomely, that look at whiles on my fair-ankled thrall; and who
+knows but the swords might be out if I take not the better heed,
+and give thee not every whit of thy will.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>As she spoke and moved forward, he turned a little, so that
+now the edge of that hazel-coppice was within his eye-shot, and
+he deemed that once more he saw the yellow-brown evil thing
+crawling forth from the thicket; then, turning suddenly on the
+Lady, he met her eyes, and seemed in one moment of time to find a
+far other look in them than that of frankness and kindness;
+though in a flash they changed back again, and she said merrily
+and sweetly: &ldquo;So, so, Sir Squire, now art thou awake again,
+and mayest for a little while look on me.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>Now it came into his head, with that look of hers, all that
+might befall him and the Maid if he mastered not his passion, nor
+did what he might to dissemble; so he bent the knee to her, and
+spoke boldly to her in her own vein, and said: &ldquo;Nay, most
+gracious of ladies, never would I abide behind to-day since thou
+farest afield.&nbsp; But if my speech be hampered, or mine eyes
+stray, is it not because my mind is confused by thy beauty, and
+the honey of kind words which floweth from thy mouth?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>She laughed outright at his word, but not disdainfully, and
+said: &ldquo;This is well spoken, Squire, and even what a squire
+should say to his liege lady, when the sun is up on a fair
+morning, and she and he and all the world are glad.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>She stood quite near him as she spoke, her hand was on his
+shoulder, and her eyes shone and sparkled.&nbsp; Sooth to say,
+that excusing of his confusion was like enough in seeming to the
+truth; for sure never creature was fashioned fairer than she:
+clad she was for the greenwood as the hunting-goddess of the
+Gentiles, with her green gown gathered unto her girdle, and
+sandals on her feet; a bow in her hand and a quiver at her back:
+she was taller and bigger of fashion than the dear Maiden, whiter
+of flesh, and more glorious, and brighter of hair; as a flower of
+flowers for fairness and fragrance.</p>
+<p>She said: &ldquo;Thou art verily a fair squire before the hunt
+is up, and if thou be as good in the hunting, all will be better
+than well, and the guest will be welcome.&nbsp; But lo! here
+cometh our Maid with the good grey ones.&nbsp; Go meet her, and
+we will tarry no longer than for thy taking the leash in
+hand.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>So Walter looked, and saw the Maid coming with two couple of
+great hounds in the leash straining against her as she came
+along.&nbsp; He ran lightly to meet her, wondering if he should
+have a look, or a half-whisper from her; but she let him take the
+white thongs from her hand, with the same half-smile of
+shamefacedness still set on her face, and, going past him, came
+softly up to the Lady, swaying like a willow-branch in the wind,
+and stood before her, with her arms hanging down by her
+sides.&nbsp; Then the Lady turned to her, and said: &ldquo;Look
+to thyself, our Maid, while we are away.&nbsp; This fair young
+man thou needest not to fear indeed, for he is good and leal; but
+what thou shalt do with the King&rsquo;s Son I wot not.&nbsp; He
+is a hot lover forsooth, but a hard man; and whiles evil is his
+mood, and perilous both to thee and me.&nbsp; And if thou do his
+will, it shall be ill for thee; and if thou do it not, take heed
+of him, and let me, and me only, come between his wrath and
+thee.&nbsp; I may do somewhat for thee.&nbsp; Even yesterday he
+was instant with me to have thee chastised after the manner of
+thralls; but I bade him keep silence of such words, and jeered
+him and mocked him, till he went away from me peevish and in
+anger.&nbsp; So look to it that thou fall not into any trap of
+his contrivance.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>Then the Maid cast herself at the Mistress&rsquo;s feet, and
+kissed and embraced them; and as she rose up, the Lady laid her
+hand lightly on her head, and then, turning to Walter, cried out:
+&ldquo;Now, Squire, let us leave all these troubles and wiles and
+desires behind us, and flit through the merry greenwood like the
+Gentiles of old days.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>And therewith she drew up the laps of her gown till the
+whiteness of her knees was seen, and set off swiftly toward the
+wood that lay south of the house, and Walter followed, marvelling
+at her goodliness; nor durst he cast a look backward to the
+Maiden, for he knew that she desired him, and it was her only
+that he looked to for his deliverance from this house of guile
+and lies.</p>
+<h2>CHAPTER XIV: THE HUNTING OF THE HART</h2>
+<p>As they went, they found a change in the land, which grew
+emptier of big and wide-spreading trees, and more beset with
+thickets.&nbsp; From one of these they roused a hart, and Walter
+let slip his hounds thereafter and he and the Lady followed
+running.&nbsp; Exceeding swift was she, and well-breathed withal,
+so that Walter wondered at her; and eager she was in the chase as
+the very hounds, heeding nothing the scratching of briars or the
+whipping of stiff twigs as she sped on.&nbsp; But for all their
+eager hunting, the quarry outran both dogs and folk, and gat him
+into a great thicket, amidmost whereof was a wide plash of
+water.&nbsp; Into the thicket they followed him, but he took to
+the water under their eyes and made land on the other side; and
+because of the tangle of underwood, he swam across much faster
+than they might have any hope to come round on him; and so were
+the hunters left undone for that time.</p>
+<p>So the Lady cast herself down on the green grass anigh the
+water, while Walter blew the hounds in and coupled them up; then
+he turned round to her, and lo! she was weeping for despite that
+they had lost the quarry; and again did Walter wonder that so
+little a matter should raise a passion of tears in her.&nbsp; He
+durst not ask what ailed her, or proffer her solace, but was not
+ill apaid by beholding her loveliness as she lay.</p>
+<p>Presently she raised up her head and turned to Walter, and
+spake to him angrily and said: &ldquo;Squire, why dost thou stand
+staring at me like a fool?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Yea, Lady,&rdquo; he said; &ldquo;but the sight of thee
+maketh me foolish to do aught else but to look on
+thee.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>She said, in a peevish voice: &ldquo;Tush, Squire, the day is
+too far spent for soft and courtly speeches; what was good there
+is nought so good here.&nbsp; Withal, I know more of thine heart
+than thou deemest.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>Walter hung down his head and reddened, and she looked on him,
+and her face changed, and she smiled and said, kindly this time:
+&ldquo;Look ye, Squire, I am hot and weary, and ill-content; but
+presently it will be better with me; for my knees have been
+telling my shoulders that the cold water of this little lake will
+be sweet and pleasant this summer noonday, and that I shall
+forget my foil when I have taken my pleasure therein.&nbsp;
+Wherefore, go thou with thine hounds without the thicket and
+there abide my coming.&nbsp; And I bid thee look not aback as
+thou goest, for therein were peril to thee: I shall not keep thee
+tarrying long alone.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>He bowed his head to her, and turned and went his ways.&nbsp;
+And now, when he was a little space away from her, he deemed her
+indeed a marvel of women, and wellnigh forgat all his doubts and
+fears concerning her, whether she were a fair image fashioned out
+of lies and guile, or it might be but an evil thing in the shape
+of a goodly woman.&nbsp; Forsooth, when he saw her caressing the
+dear and friendly Maid, his heart all turned against her, despite
+what his eyes and his ears told his mind, and she seemed like as
+it were a serpent enfolding the simplicity of the body which he
+loved.</p>
+<p>But now it was all changed, and he lay on the grass and longed
+for her coming; which was delayed for somewhat more than an
+hour.&nbsp; Then she came back to him, smiling and fresh and
+cheerful, her green gown let down to her heels.</p>
+<p>He sprang up to meet her, and she came close to him, and spake
+from a laughing face: &ldquo;Squire, hast thou no meat in thy
+wallet?&nbsp; For, meseemeth, I fed thee when thou wert hungry
+the other day; do thou now the same by me.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>He smiled, and louted to her, and took his wallet and brought
+out thence bread and flesh and wine, and spread them all out
+before her on the green grass, and then stood by humbly before
+her.&nbsp; But she said: &ldquo;Nay, my Squire, sit down by me
+and eat with me, for to-day are we both hunters
+together.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>So he sat down by her trembling, but neither for awe of her
+greatness, nor for fear and horror of her guile and sorcery.</p>
+<p>A while they sat there together after they had done their
+meat, and the Lady fell a-talking with Walter concerning the
+parts of the earth, and the manners of men, and of his
+journeyings to and fro.</p>
+<p>At last she said: &ldquo;Thou hast told me much and answered
+all my questions wisely, and as my good Squire should, and that
+pleaseth me.&nbsp; But now tell me of the city wherein thou wert
+born and bred; a city whereof thou hast hitherto told me
+nought.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Lady,&rdquo; he said, &ldquo;it is a fair and a great
+city, and to many it seemeth lovely.&nbsp; But I have left it,
+and now it is nothing to me.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Hast thou not kindred there?&rdquo; said she.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Yea,&rdquo; said he, &ldquo;and foemen withal; and a
+false woman waylayeth my life there.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;And what was she?&rdquo; said the Lady.</p>
+<p>Said Walter: &ldquo;She was but my wife.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Was she fair?&rdquo; said the Lady.</p>
+<p>Walter looked on her a while, and then said: &ldquo;I was
+going to say that she was wellnigh as fair as thou; but that may
+scarce be.&nbsp; Yet was she very fair.&nbsp; But now, kind and
+gracious Lady, I will say this word to thee: I marvel that thou
+askest so many things concerning the city of Langton on Holm,
+where I was born, and where are my kindred yet; for meseemeth
+that thou knowest it thyself.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;I know it, I?&rdquo; said the Lady.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;What, then! thou knowest it not?&rdquo; said
+Walter.</p>
+<p>Spake the Lady, and some of her old disdain was in her words:
+&ldquo;Dost thou deem that I wander about the world and its
+cheaping-steads like one of the chap-men?&nbsp; Nay, I dwell in
+the Wood beyond the World, and nowhere else.&nbsp; What hath put
+this word into thy mouth?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>He said: &ldquo;Pardon me, Lady, if I have misdone; but thus
+it was: Mine own eyes beheld thee going down the quays of our
+city, and thence a ship-board, and the ship sailed out of the
+haven.&nbsp; And first of all went a strange dwarf, whom I have
+seen here, and then thy Maid; and then went thy gracious and
+lovely body.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>The Lady&rsquo;s face changed as he spoke, and she turned red
+and then pale, and set her teeth; but she refrained her, and
+said: &ldquo;Squire, I see of thee that thou art no liar, nor
+light of wit, therefore I suppose that thou hast verily seen some
+appearance of me; but never have I been in Langton, nor thought
+thereof, nor known that such a stead there was until thou namedst
+it e&rsquo;en now.&nbsp; Wherefore, I deem that an enemy hath
+cast the shadow of me on the air of that land.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Yea, my Lady,&rdquo; said Walter; &ldquo;and what enemy
+mightest thou have to have done this?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>She was slow of answer, but spake at last from a quivering
+mouth of anger: &ldquo;Knowest thou not the saw, that a
+man&rsquo;s foes are they of his own house?&nbsp; If I find out
+for a truth who hath done this, the said enemy shall have an evil
+hour with me.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>Again she was silent, and she clenched her hands and strained
+her limbs in the heat of her anger; so that Walter was afraid of
+her, and all his misgivings came back to his heart again, and he
+repented that he had told her so much.&nbsp; But in a little
+while all that trouble and wrath seemed to flow off her, and
+again was she of good cheer, and kind and sweet to him and she
+said: &ldquo;But in sooth, however it may be, I thank thee, my
+Squire and friend, for telling me hereof.&nbsp; And surely no
+wyte do I lay on thee.&nbsp; And, moreover, is it not this vision
+which hath brought thee hither?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;So it is, Lady,&rdquo; said he.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Then have we to thank it,&rdquo; said the Lady,
+&ldquo;and thou art welcome to our land.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>And therewith she held out her hand to him, and he took it on
+his knees and kissed it: and then it was as if a red-hot iron had
+run through his heart, and he felt faint, and bowed down his
+head.&nbsp; But he held her hand yet, and kissed it many times,
+and the wrist and the arm, and knew not where he was.</p>
+<p>But she drew a little away from him, and arose and said:
+&ldquo;Now is the day wearing, and if we are to bear back any
+venison we must buckle to the work.&nbsp; So arise, Squire, and
+take the hounds and come with me; for not far off is a little
+thicket which mostly harbours foison of deer, great and
+small.&nbsp; Let us come our ways.&rdquo;</p>
+<h2>CHAPTER XV: THE SLAYING OF THE QUARRY</h2>
+<p>So they walked on quietly thence some half a mile, and ever
+the Lady would have Walter to walk by her side, and not follow a
+little behind her, as was meet for a servant to do; and she
+touched his hand at whiles as she showed him beast and fowl and
+tree, and the sweetness of her body overcame him, so that for a
+while he thought of nothing save her.</p>
+<p>Now when they were come to the thicket-side, she turned to him
+and said: &ldquo;Squire, I am no ill woodman, so that thou mayst
+trust me that we shall not be brought to shame the second time;
+and I shall do sagely; so nock an arrow to thy bow, and abide me
+here, and stir not hence; for I shall enter this thicket without
+the hounds, and arouse the quarry for thee; and see that thou be
+brisk and clean-shooting, and then shalt thou have a reward of
+me.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>Therewith she drew up her skirts through her girdle again,
+took her bent bow in her hand, and drew an arrow out of the
+quiver, and stepped lightly into the thicket, leaving him longing
+for the sight of her, as he hearkened to the tread of her feet on
+the dry leaves, and the rustling of the brake as she thrust
+through it.</p>
+<p>Thus he stood for a few minutes, and then he heard a kind of
+gibbering cry without words, yet as of a woman, coming from the
+thicket, and while his heart was yet gathering the thought that
+something had gone amiss, he glided swiftly, but with little
+stir, into the brake.</p>
+<p>He had gone but a little way ere he saw the Lady standing
+there in a narrow clearing, her face pale as death, her knees
+cleaving together, her body swaying and tottering, her hands
+hanging down, and the bow and arrow fallen to the ground; and ten
+yards before her a great-headed yellow creature crouching flat to
+the earth and slowly drawing nigher.</p>
+<p>He stopped short; one arrow was already notched to the string,
+and another hung loose to the lesser fingers of his
+string-hand.&nbsp; He raised his right hand, and drew and loosed
+in a twinkling; the shaft flew close to the Lady&rsquo;s side,
+and straightway all the wood rung with a huge roar, as the yellow
+lion turned about to bite at the shaft which had sunk deep into
+him behind the shoulder, as if a bolt out of the heavens had
+smitten him.&nbsp; But straightway had Walter loosed again, and
+then, throwing down his bow, he ran forward with his drawn sword
+gleaming in his hand, while the lion weltered and rolled, but had
+no might to move forward.&nbsp; Then Walter went up to him warily
+and thrust him through to the heart, and leapt aback, lest the
+beast might yet have life in him to smite; but he left his
+struggling, his huge voice died out, and he lay there moveless
+before the hunter.</p>
+<p>Walter abode a little, facing him, and then turned about to
+the Lady, and she had fallen down in a heap whereas she stood,
+and lay there all huddled up and voiceless.&nbsp; So he knelt
+down by her, and lifted up her head, and bade her arise, for the
+foe was slain.&nbsp; And after a little she stretched out her
+limbs, and turned about on the grass, and seemed to sleep, and
+the colour came into her face again, and it grew soft and a
+little smiling.&nbsp; Thus she lay awhile, and Walter sat by her
+watching her, till at last she opened her eyes and sat up, and
+knew him, and smiling on him said: &ldquo;What hath befallen,
+Squire, that I have slept and dreamed?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>He answered nothing, till her memory came back to her, and
+then she arose, trembling and pale, and said: &ldquo;Let us leave
+this wood, for the Enemy is therein.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>And she hastened away before him till they came out at the
+thicket-side whereas the hounds had been left, and they were
+standing there uneasy and whining; so Walter coupled them, while
+the Lady stayed not, but went away swiftly homeward, and Walter
+followed.</p>
+<p>At last she stayed her swift feet, and turned round on Walter,
+and said: &ldquo;Squire, come hither.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>So did he, and she said: &ldquo;I am weary again; let us sit
+under this quicken-tree, and rest us.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>So they sat down, and she sat looking between her knees a
+while; and at last she said: &ldquo;Why didst thou not bring the
+lion&rsquo;s hide?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>He said: &ldquo;Lady, I will go back and flay the beast, and
+bring on the hide.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>And he arose therewith, but she caught him by the skirts and
+drew him down, and said: &ldquo;Nay, thou shalt not go; abide
+with me.&nbsp; Sit down again.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>He did so, and she said: &ldquo;Thou shalt not go from me; for
+I am afraid: I am not used to looking on the face of
+death.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>She grew pale as she spoke, and set a hand to her breast, and
+sat so a while without speaking.&nbsp; At last she turned to him
+smiling, and said: &ldquo;How was it with the aspect of me when I
+stood before the peril of the Enemy?&rdquo;&nbsp; And she laid a
+hand upon his.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;O gracious one,&rdquo; quoth he, &ldquo;thou wert, as
+ever, full lovely, but I feared for thee.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>She moved not her hand from his, and she said: &ldquo;Good and
+true Squire, I said ere I entered the thicket e&rsquo;en now that
+I would reward thee if thou slewest the quarry.&nbsp; He is dead,
+though thou hast left the skin behind upon the carcase.&nbsp; Ask
+now thy reward, but take time to think what it shall
+be.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>He felt her hand warm upon his, and drew in the sweet odour of
+her mingled with the woodland scents under the hot sun of the
+afternoon, and his heart was clouded with manlike desire of
+her.&nbsp; And it was a near thing but he had spoken, and craved
+of her the reward of the freedom of her Maid, and that he might
+depart with her into other lands; but as his mind wavered betwixt
+this and that, the Lady, who had been eyeing him keenly, drew her
+hand away from him; and therewith doubt and fear flowed into his
+mind, and he refrained him of speech.</p>
+<p>Then she laughed merrily and said: &ldquo;The good Squire is
+shamefaced; he feareth a lady more than a lion.&nbsp; Will it be
+a reward to thee if I bid thee to kiss my cheek?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>Therewith she leaned her face toward him, and he kissed her
+well-favouredly, and then sat gazing on her, wondering what
+should betide to him on the morrow.</p>
+<p>Then she arose and said: &ldquo;Come, Squire, and let us home;
+be not abashed, there shall be other rewards
+hereafter.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>So they went their ways quietly; and it was nigh sunset
+against they entered the house again.&nbsp; Walter looked round
+for the Maid, but beheld her not; and the Lady said to him:
+&ldquo;I go to my chamber, and now is thy service over for this
+day.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>Then she nodded to him friendly and went her ways.</p>
+<h2>CHAPTER XVI: OF THE KING&rsquo;S SON AND THE MAID</h2>
+<p>But as for Walter, he went out of the house again, and fared
+slowly over the woodlawns till he came to another close thicket
+or brake; he entered from mere wantonness, or that he might be
+the more apart and hidden, so as to think over his case.&nbsp;
+There he lay down under the thick boughs, but could not so herd
+his thoughts that they would dwell steady in looking into what
+might come to him within the next days; rather visions of those
+two women and the monster did but float before him, and fear and
+desire and the hope of life ran to and fro in his mind.</p>
+<p>As he lay thus he heard footsteps drawing near, and he looked
+between the boughs, and though the sun had just set, he could see
+close by him a man and a woman going slowly, and they hand in
+hand; at first he deemed it would be the King&rsquo;s Son and the
+Lady, but presently he saw that it was the King&rsquo;s Son
+indeed, but that it was the Maid whom he was holding by the
+hand.&nbsp; And now he saw of him that his eyes were bright with
+desire, and of her that she was very pale.&nbsp; Yet when he
+heard her begin to speak, it was in a steady voice that she said:
+&ldquo;King&rsquo;s Son, thou hast threatened me oft and
+unkindly, and now thou threatenest me again, and no less
+unkindly.&nbsp; But whatever were thy need herein before, now is
+there no more need; for my Mistress, of whom thou wert weary, is
+now grown weary of thee, and belike will not now reward me for
+drawing thy love to me, as once she would have done; to wit,
+before the coming of this stranger.&nbsp; Therefore I say, since
+I am but a thrall, poor and helpless, betwixt you two mighty
+ones, I have no choice but to do thy will.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>As she spoke she looked all round about her, as one distraught
+by the anguish of fear.&nbsp; Walter, amidst of his wrath and
+grief, had wellnigh drawn his sword and rushed out of his lair
+upon the King&rsquo;s Son.&nbsp; But he deemed it sure that, so
+doing, he should undo the Maid altogether, and himself also
+belike, so he refrained him, though it were a hard matter.</p>
+<p>The Maid had stayed her feet now close to where Walter lay,
+some five yards from him only, and he doubted whether she saw him
+not from where she stood.&nbsp; As to the King&rsquo;s Son, he
+was so intent upon the Maid, and so greedy of her beauty, that it
+was not like that he saw anything.</p>
+<p>Now moreover Walter looked, and deemed that he beheld
+something through the grass and bracken on the other side of
+those two, an ugly brown and yellow body, which, if it were not
+some beast of the foumart kind, must needs be the monstrous
+dwarf, or one of his kin; and the flesh crept upon Walter&rsquo;s
+bones with the horror of him.&nbsp; But the King&rsquo;s Son
+spoke unto the Maid: &ldquo;Sweetling, I shall take the gift thou
+givest me, neither shall I threaten thee any more, howbeit thou
+givest it not very gladly or graciously.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>She smiled on him with her lips alone, for her eyes were
+wandering and haggard.&nbsp; &ldquo;My lord,&rdquo; she said,
+&ldquo;is not this the manner of women?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Well,&rdquo; he said, &ldquo;I say that I will take thy
+love even so given.&nbsp; Yet let me hear again that thou lovest
+not that vile newcomer, and that thou hast not seen him, save
+this morning along with my Lady.&nbsp; Nay now, thou shalt swear
+it.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;What shall I swear by?&rdquo; she said.</p>
+<p>Quoth he, &ldquo;Thou shalt swear by my body;&rdquo; and
+therewith he thrust himself close up against her; but she drew
+her hand from his, and laid it on his breast, and said: &ldquo;I
+swear it by thy body.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>He smiled on her licorously, and took her by the shoulders,
+and kissed her face many times, and then stood aloof from her,
+and said: &ldquo;Now have I had hansel: but tell me, when shall I
+come to thee?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>She spoke out clearly: &ldquo;Within three days at furthest; I
+will do thee to wit of the day and the hour to-morrow, or the day
+after.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>He kissed her once more, and said: &ldquo;Forget it not, or
+the threat holds good.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>And therewith he turned about and went his ways toward the
+house; and Walter saw the yellow-brown thing creeping after him
+in the gathering dusk.</p>
+<p>As for the Maid, she stood for a while without moving, and
+looking after the King&rsquo;s Son and the creature that followed
+him.&nbsp; Then she turned about to where Walter lay and lightly
+put aside the boughs, and Walter leapt up, and they stood face to
+face.&nbsp; She said softly but eagerly: &ldquo;Friend, touch me
+not yet!&rdquo;</p>
+<p>He spake not, but looked on her sternly.&nbsp; She said:
+&ldquo;Thou art angry with me?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>Still he spake not; but she said: &ldquo;Friend, this at least
+I will pray thee; not to play with life and death; with happiness
+and misery.&nbsp; Dost thou not remember the oath which we swore
+each to each but a little while ago?&nbsp; And dost thou deem
+that I have changed in these few days?&nbsp; Is thy mind
+concerning thee and me the same as it was?&nbsp; If it be not so,
+now tell me.&nbsp; For now have I the mind to do as if neither
+thou nor I are changed to each other, whoever may have kissed
+mine unwilling lips, or whomsoever thy lips may have
+kissed.&nbsp; But if thou hast changed, and wilt no longer give
+me thy love, nor crave mine, then shall this steel&rdquo; (and
+she drew a sharp knife from her girdle) &ldquo;be for the fool
+and the dastard who hath made thee wroth with me, my friend, and
+my friend that I deemed I had won.&nbsp; And then let come what
+will come!&nbsp; But if thou be nought changed, and the oath yet
+holds, then, when a little while hath passed, may we thrust all
+evil and guile and grief behind us, and long joy shall lie before
+us, and long life, and all honour in death: if only thou wilt do
+as I bid thee, O my dear, and my friend, and my first
+friend!&rdquo;</p>
+<p>He looked on her, and his breast heaved up as all the
+sweetness of her kind love took hold on him, and his face
+changed, and the tears filled his eyes and ran over, and rained
+down before her, and he stretched out his hand toward her.</p>
+<p>Then she said exceeding sweetly: &ldquo;Now indeed I see that
+it is well with me, yea, and with thee also.&nbsp; A sore pain it
+is to me, that not even now may I take thine hand, and cast mine
+arms about thee, and kiss the lips that love me.&nbsp; But so it
+has to be.&nbsp; My dear, even so I were fain to stand here long
+before thee, even if we spake no more word to each other; but
+abiding here is perilous; for there is ever an evil spy upon my
+doings, who has now as I deem followed the King&rsquo;s Son to
+the house, but who will return when he has tracked him home
+thither: so we must sunder.&nbsp; But belike there is yet time
+for a word or two: first, the rede which I had thought on for our
+deliverance is now afoot, though I durst not tell thee thereof,
+nor have time thereto.&nbsp; But this much shall I tell thee,
+that whereas great is the craft of my Mistress in wizardry, yet I
+also have some little craft therein, and this, which she hath
+not, to change the aspect of folk so utterly that they seem other
+than they verily are; yea, so that one may have the aspect of
+another.&nbsp; Now the next thing is this: whatsoever my Mistress
+may bid thee, do her will therein with no more nay-saying than
+thou deemest may please her.&nbsp; And the next thing:
+wheresoever thou mayst meet me, speak not to me, make no sign to
+me, even when I seem to be all alone, till I stoop down and touch
+the ring on my ankle with my right hand; but if I do so, then
+stay thee, without fail, till I speak.&nbsp; The last thing I
+will say to thee, dear friend, ere we both go our ways, this it
+is.&nbsp; When we are free, and thou knowest all that I have
+done, I pray thee deem me not evil and wicked, and be not wroth
+with me for my deed; whereas thou wottest well that I am not in
+like plight with other women.&nbsp; I have heard tell that when
+the knight goeth to the war, and hath overcome his foes by the
+shearing of swords and guileful tricks, and hath come back home
+to his own folk, they praise him and bless him, and crown him
+with flowers, and boast of him before God in the minster for his
+deliverance of friend and folk and city.&nbsp; Why shouldst thou
+be worse to me than this?&nbsp; Now is all said, my dear and my
+friend; farewell, farewell!&rdquo;</p>
+<p>Therewith she turned and went her ways toward the house in all
+speed, but making somewhat of a compass.&nbsp; And when she was
+gone, Walter knelt down and kissed the place where her feet had
+been, and arose thereafter, and made his way toward the house, he
+also, but slowly, and staying oft on his way.</p>
+<h2>CHAPTER XVII: OF THE HOUSE AND THE PLEASANCE IN THE WOOD</h2>
+<p>On the morrow morning Walter loitered a while about the house
+till the morn was grown old, and then about noon he took his bow
+and arrows and went into the woods to the northward, to get him
+some venison.&nbsp; He went somewhat far ere he shot him a fawn,
+and then he sat him down to rest under the shade of a great
+chestnut-tree, for it was not far past the hottest of the
+day.&nbsp; He looked around thence and saw below him a little
+dale with a pleasant stream running through it, and he bethought
+him of bathing therein, so he went down and had his pleasure of
+the water and the willowy banks; for he lay naked a while on the
+grass by the lip of the water, for joy of the flickering shade,
+and the little breeze that ran over the down-long ripples of the
+stream.</p>
+<p>Then he did on his raiment, and began to come his ways up the
+bent, but had scarce gone three steps ere he saw a woman coming
+towards him from downstream.&nbsp; His heart came into his mouth
+when he saw her, for she stooped and reached down her arm, as if
+she would lay her hand on her ankle, so that at first he deemed
+it had been the Maid, but at the second eye-shot he saw that it
+was the Mistress.&nbsp; She stood still and looked on him, so
+that he deemed she would have him come to her.&nbsp; So he went
+to meet her, and grew somewhat shamefaced as he drew nigher, and
+wondered at her, for now was she clad but in one garment of some
+dark grey silky stuff, embroidered with, as it were, a garland of
+flowers about the middle, but which was so thin that, as the wind
+drifted it from side and limb, it hid her no more, but for the
+said garland, than if water were running over her: her face was
+full of smiling joy and content as she spake to him in a kind,
+caressing voice, and said: &ldquo;I give thee good day, good
+Squire, and well art thou met.&rdquo;&nbsp; And she held out her
+hand to him.&nbsp; He knelt down before her and kissed it, and
+abode still upon his knees, and hanging down his head.</p>
+<p>But she laughed outright, and stooped down to him, and put her
+hand to his arms, and raised him up, and said to him: &ldquo;What
+is this, my Squire, that thou kneelest to me as to an
+idol?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>He said faltering: &ldquo;I wot not; but perchance thou art an
+idol; and I fear thee.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;What!&rdquo; she said, &ldquo;more than yesterday,
+whenas thou sawest me afraid?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>Said he: &ldquo;Yea, for that now I see thee unhidden, and
+meseemeth there hath been none such since the old days of the
+Gentiles.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>She said: &ldquo;Hast thou not yet bethought thee of a gift to
+crave of me, a reward for the slaying of mine enemy, and the
+saving of me from death?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;O my Lady,&rdquo; he said, &ldquo;even so much would I
+have done for any other lady, or, forsooth, for any poor man; for
+so my manhood would have bidden me.&nbsp; Speak not of gifts to
+me then.&nbsp; Moreover&rdquo; (and he reddened therewith, and
+his voice faltered), &ldquo;didst thou not give me my sweet
+reward yesterday?&nbsp; What more durst I ask?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>She held her peace awhile, and looked on him keenly; and he
+reddened under her gaze.&nbsp; Then wrath came into her face, and
+she reddened and knit her brows, and spake to him in a voice of
+anger, and said: &ldquo;Nay, what is this?&nbsp; It is growing in
+my mind that thou deemest the gift of me unworthy!&nbsp; Thou, an
+alien, an outcast; one endowed with the little wisdom of the
+World without the Wood!&nbsp; And here I stand before thee, all
+glorious in my nakedness, and so fulfilled of wisdom, that I can
+make this wilderness to any whom I love more full of joy than the
+kingdoms and cities of the world&mdash;and thou!&mdash;Ah, but it
+is the Enemy that hath done this, and made the guileless
+guileful!&nbsp; Yet will I have the upper hand at least, though
+thou suffer for it, and I suffer for thee.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>Walter stood before her with hanging head, and he put forth
+his hands as if praying off her anger, and pondered what answer
+he should make; for now he feared for himself and the Maid; so at
+last he looked up to her, and said boldly: &ldquo;Nay, Lady, I
+know what thy words mean, whereas I remember thy first welcome of
+me.&nbsp; I wot, forsooth, that thou wouldst call me base-born,
+and of no account, and unworthy to touch the hem of thy raiment;
+and that I have been over-bold, and guilty towards thee; and
+doubtless this is sooth, and I have deserved thine anger: but I
+will not ask thee to pardon me, for I have done but what I must
+needs.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>She looked on him calmly now, and without any wrath, but
+rather as if she would read what was written in his inmost
+heart.&nbsp; Then her face changed into joyousness again, and she
+smote her palms together, and cried out: &ldquo;This is but
+foolish talk; for yesterday did I see thy valiancy, and to-day I
+have seen thy goodliness; and I say, that though thou mightest
+not be good enough for a fool woman of the earthly baronage, yet
+art thou good enough for me, the wise and the mighty, and the
+lovely.&nbsp; And whereas thou sayest that I gave thee but
+disdain when first thou camest to us, grudge not against me
+therefor, because it was done but to prove thee; and now thou art
+proven.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>Then again he knelt down before her, and embraced her knees,
+and again she raised him up, and let her arm hang down over his
+shoulder, and her cheek brush his cheek; and she kissed his mouth
+and said: &ldquo;Hereby is all forgiven, both thine offence and
+mine; and now cometh joy and merry days.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>Therewith her smiling face grew grave, and she stood before
+him looking stately and gracious and kind at once, and she took
+his hand and said: &ldquo;Thou mightest deem my chamber in the
+Golden House of the Wood over-queenly, since thou art no
+masterful man.&nbsp; So now hast thou chosen well the place
+wherein to meet me to-day, for hard by on the other side of the
+stream is a bower of pleasance, which, forsooth, not every one
+who cometh to this land may find; there shall I be to thee as one
+of the up-country damsels of thine own land, and thou shalt not
+be abashed.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>She sidled up to him as she spoke, and would he, would he not,
+her sweet voice tickled his very soul with pleasure, and she
+looked aside on him happy and well-content.</p>
+<p>So they crossed the stream by the shallow below the pool
+wherein Walter had bathed, and within a little they came upon a
+tall fence of flake-hurdles, and a simple gate therein.&nbsp; The
+Lady opened the same, and they entered thereby into a close all
+planted as a most fair garden, with hedges of rose and woodbine,
+and with linden-trees a-blossom, and long ways of green grass
+betwixt borders of lilies and clove-gilliflowers, and other sweet
+garland-flowers.&nbsp; And a branch of the stream which they had
+crossed erewhile wandered through that garden; and in the midst
+was a little house built of post and pan, and thatched with
+yellow straw, as if it were new done.</p>
+<p>Then Walter looked this way and that, and wondered at first,
+and tried to think in his mind what should come next, and how
+matters would go with him; but his thought would not dwell steady
+on any other matter than the beauty of the Lady amidst the beauty
+of the garden; and withal she was now grown so sweet and kind,
+and even somewhat timid and shy with him, that scarce did he know
+whose hand he held, or whose fragrant bosom and sleek side went
+so close to him.</p>
+<p>So they wandered here and there through the waning of the day,
+and when they entered at last into the cool dusk house, then they
+loved and played together, as if they were a pair of lovers
+guileless, with no fear for the morrow, and no seeds of enmity
+and death sown betwixt them.</p>
+<h2>CHAPTER XVIII: THE MAID GIVES WALTER TRYST</h2>
+<p>Now, on the morrow, when Walter was awake, he found there was
+no one lying beside him, and the day was no longer very young; so
+he arose, and went through the garden from end to end, and all
+about, and there was none there; and albeit that he dreaded to
+meet the Lady there, yet was he sad at heart and fearful of what
+might betide.&nbsp; Howsoever, he found the gate whereby they had
+entered yesterday, and he went out into the little dale; but when
+he had gone a step or two he turned about, and could see neither
+garden nor fence, nor any sign of what he had seen thereof but
+lately.&nbsp; He knit his brow and stood still to think of it,
+and his heart grew the heavier thereby; but presently he went his
+ways and crossed the stream, but had scarce come up on to the
+grass on the further side, ere he saw a woman coming to meet him,
+and at first, full as he was of the tide of yesterday and the
+wondrous garden, deemed that it would be the Lady; but the woman
+stayed her feet, and, stooping, laid a hand on her right ankle,
+and he saw that it was the Maid.&nbsp; He drew anigh to her, and
+saw that she was nought so sad of countenance as the last time
+she had met him, but flushed of cheek and bright-eyed.</p>
+<p>As he came up to her she made a step or two to meet him,
+holding out her two hands, and then refrained her, and said
+smiling: &ldquo;Ah, friend, belike this shall be the last time
+that I shall say to thee, touch me not, nay, not so much as my
+hand, or if it were but the hem of my raiment.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>The joy grew up in his heart, and he gazed on her fondly, and
+said: &ldquo;Why, what hath befallen of late?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;O friend,&rdquo; she began, &ldquo;this hath
+befallen.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>But as he looked on her, the smile died from her face, and she
+became deadly pale to the very lips; she looked askance to her
+left side, whereas ran the stream; and Walter followed her eyes,
+and deemed for one instant that he saw the misshapen yellow
+visage of the dwarf peering round from a grey rock, but the next
+there was nothing.&nbsp; Then the Maid, though she were as pale
+as death, went on in a clear, steady, hard voice, wherein was no
+joy or kindness, keeping her face to Walter and her back to the
+stream: &ldquo;This hath befallen, friend, that there is no
+longer any need to refrain thy love nor mine; therefore I say to
+thee, come to my chamber (and it is the red chamber over against
+thine, though thou knewest it not) an hour before this next
+midnight, and then thy sorrow and mine shall be at an end: and
+now I must needs depart.&nbsp; Follow me not, but
+remember!&rdquo;</p>
+<p>And therewith she turned about and fled like the wind down the
+stream.</p>
+<p>But Walter stood wondering, and knew not what to make of it,
+whether it were for good or ill: for he knew now that she had
+paled and been seized with terror because of the upheaving of the
+ugly head; and yet she had seemed to speak out the very thing she
+had to say.&nbsp; Howsoever it were, he spake aloud to himself:
+Whatever comes, I will keep tryst with her.</p>
+<p>Then he drew his sword, and turned this way and that, looking
+all about if he might see any sign of the Evil Thing; but nought
+might his eyes behold, save the grass, and the stream, and the
+bushes of the dale.&nbsp; So then, still holding his naked sword
+in his hand, he clomb the bent out of the dale; for that was the
+only way he knew to the Golden House; and when he came to the
+top, and the summer breeze blew in his face, and he looked down a
+fair green slope beset with goodly oaks and chestnuts, he was
+refreshed with the life of the earth, and he felt the good sword
+in his fist, and knew that there was might and longing in him,
+and the world seemed open unto him.</p>
+<p>So he smiled, if it were somewhat grimly, and sheathed his
+sword and went on toward the house.</p>
+<h2>CHAPTER XIX: WALTER GOES TO FETCH HOME THE LION&rsquo;S
+HIDE</h2>
+<p>He entered the cool dusk through the porch, and, looking down
+the pillared hall, saw beyond the fountain a gleam of gold, and
+when he came past the said fountain he looked up to the
+high-seat, and lo! the Lady sitting there clad in her queenly
+raiment.&nbsp; She called to him, and he came; and she hailed
+him, and spake graciously and calmly, yet as if she knew nought
+of him save as the leal servant of her, a high Lady.&nbsp;
+&ldquo;Squire,&rdquo; she said, &ldquo;we have deemed it meet to
+have the hide of the servant of the Enemy, the lion to wit, whom
+thou slewest yesterday, for a carpet to our feet; wherefore go
+now, take thy wood-knife, and flay the beast, and bring me home
+his skin.&nbsp; This shall be all thy service for this day, so
+mayst thou do it at thine own leisure, and not weary
+thyself.&nbsp; May good go with thee.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>He bent the knee before her, and she smiled on him graciously,
+but reached out no hand for him to kiss, and heeded him but
+little.&nbsp; Wherefore, in spite of himself, and though he knew
+somewhat of her guile, he could not help marvelling that this
+should be she who had lain in his arms night-long but of
+late.</p>
+<p>Howso that might be, he took his way toward the thicket where
+he had slain the lion, and came thither by then it was afternoon,
+at the hottest of the day.&nbsp; So he entered therein, and came
+to the very place whereas the Lady had lain, when she fell down
+before the terror of the lion; and there was the mark of her body
+on the grass where she had lain that while, like as it were the
+form of a hare.&nbsp; But when Walter went on to where he had
+slain that great beast, lo! he was gone, and there was no sign of
+him; but there were Walter&rsquo;s own footprints, and the two
+shafts which he had shot, one feathered red, and one blue.&nbsp;
+He said at first: Belike someone hath been here, and hath had the
+carcase away.&nbsp; Then he laughed in very despite, and said:
+How may that be, since there are no signs of dragging away of so
+huge a body, and no blood or fur on the grass if they had cut him
+up, and moreover no trampling of feet, as if there had been many
+men at the deed.&nbsp; Then was he all abashed, and again laughed
+in scorn of himself, and said: Forsooth I deemed I had done
+manly; but now forsooth I shot nought, and nought there was
+before the sword of my father&rsquo;s son.&nbsp; And what may I
+deem now, but that this is a land of mere lies, and that there is
+nought real and alive therein save me.&nbsp; Yea, belike even
+these trees and the green grass will presently depart from me,
+and leave me falling down through the clouds.</p>
+<p>Therewith he turned away, and gat him to the road that led to
+the Golden House, wondering what next should befall him, and
+going slowly as he pondered his case.&nbsp; So came he to that
+first thicket where they had lost their quarry by water; so he
+entered the same, musing, and bathed him in the pool that was
+therein, after he had wandered about it awhile, and found nothing
+new.</p>
+<p>So again he set him to the homeward road, when the day was now
+waning, and it was near sunset that he was come nigh unto the
+house, though it was hidden from him as then by a low bent that
+rose before him; and there he abode and looked about him.</p>
+<p>Now as he looked, over the said bent came the figure of a
+woman, who stayed on the brow thereof and looked all about her,
+and then ran swiftly down to meet Walter, who saw at once that it
+was the Maid.</p>
+<p>She made no stay then till she was but three paces from him,
+and then she stooped down and made the sign to him, and then
+spake to him breathlessly, and said: &ldquo;Hearken! but speak
+not till I have done: I bade thee to-night&rsquo;s meeting
+because I saw that there was one anigh whom I must needs
+beguile.&nbsp; But by thine oath, and thy love, and all that thou
+art, I adjure thee come not unto me this night as I bade thee!
+but be hidden in the hazel-copse outside the house, as it draws
+toward midnight, and abide me there.&nbsp; Dost thou hearken, and
+wilt thou?&nbsp; Say yes or no in haste, for I may not tarry a
+moment of time.&nbsp; Who knoweth what is behind me?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Yes,&rdquo; said Walter hastily; &ldquo;but friend and
+love&mdash;&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;No more,&rdquo; she said; &ldquo;hope the best;&rdquo;
+and turning from him she ran away swiftly, not by the way she had
+come, but sideways, as though to reach the house by fetching a
+compass.</p>
+<p>But Walter went slowly on his way, thinking within himself
+that now at that present moment there was nought for it but to
+refrain him from doing, and to let others do; yet deemed he that
+it was little manly to be as the pawn upon the board, pushed
+about by the will of others.</p>
+<p>Then, as he went, he bethought him of the Maiden&rsquo;s face
+and aspect, as she came running to him, and stood before him for
+that minute; and all eagerness he saw in her, and sore love of
+him, and distress of soul, all blent together.</p>
+<p>So came he to the brow of the bent whence he could see lying
+before him, scarce more than a bow-shot away, the Golden House
+now gilded again and reddened by the setting sun.&nbsp; And even
+therewith came a gay image toward him, flashing back the level
+rays from gold and steel and silver; and lo! there was come the
+King&rsquo;s Son.&nbsp; They met presently, and the King&rsquo;s
+Son turned to go beside him, and said merrily: &ldquo;I give thee
+good even, my Lady&rsquo;s Squire!&nbsp; I owe thee something of
+courtesy, whereas it is by thy means that I shall be made happy,
+both to-night, and to-morrow, and many to-morrows; and sooth it
+is, that but little courtesy have I done thee
+hitherto.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>His face was full of joy, and the eyes of him shone with
+gladness.&nbsp; He was a goodly man, but to Walter he seemed an
+ill one; and he hated him so much, that he found it no easy
+matter to answer him; but he refrained himself, and said:
+&ldquo;I can thee thank, King&rsquo;s Son; and good it is that
+someone is happy in this strange land.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Art thou not happy then, Squire of my Lady?&rdquo; said
+the other.</p>
+<p>Walter had no mind to show this man his heart, nay, nor even a
+corner thereof; for he deemed him an enemy.&nbsp; So he smiled
+sweetly and somewhat foolishly, as a man luckily in love, and
+said: &ldquo;O yea, yea, why should I not be so?&nbsp; How might
+I be otherwise?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Yea then,&rdquo; said the King&rsquo;s Son, &ldquo;why
+didst thou say that thou wert glad someone is happy?&nbsp; Who is
+unhappy, deemest thou?&rdquo; and he looked on him keenly.</p>
+<p>Walter answered slowly: &ldquo;Said I so?&nbsp; I suppose then
+that I was thinking of thee; for when first I saw thee, yea, and
+afterwards, thou didst seem heavy-hearted and
+ill-content.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>The face of the King&rsquo;s Son cleared at this word, and he
+said: &ldquo;Yea, so it was; for look you, both ways it was: I
+was unfree, and I had sown the true desire of my heart whereas it
+waxed not.&nbsp; But now I am on the brink and verge of freedom,
+and presently shall my desire be blossomed.&nbsp; Nay now,
+Squire, I deem thee a good fellow, though it may be somewhat of a
+fool; so I will no more speak riddles to thee.&nbsp; Thus it is:
+the Maid hath promised me all mine asking, and is mine; and in
+two or three days, by her helping also, I shall see the world
+again.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>Quoth Walter, smiling askance on him: &ldquo;And the Lady?
+what shall she say to this matter?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>The King&rsquo;s Son reddened, but smiled falsely enough, and
+said: &ldquo;Sir Squire, thou knowest enough not to need to ask
+this.&nbsp; Why should I tell thee that she accounteth more of
+thy little finger than of my whole body?&nbsp; Now I tell thee
+hereof freely; first, because this my fruition of love, and my
+freeing from thralldom, is, in a way, of thy doing.&nbsp; For
+thou art become my supplanter, and hast taken thy place with
+yonder lovely tyrant.&nbsp; Fear not for me! she will let me
+go.&nbsp; As for thyself, see thou to it!&nbsp; But again I tell
+thee hereof because my heart is light and full of joy, and
+telling thee will pleasure me, and cannot do me any harm.&nbsp;
+For if thou say: How if I carry the tale to my Lady?&nbsp; I
+answer, thou wilt not.&nbsp; For I know that thine heart hath
+been somewhat set on the jewel that my hand holdeth; and thou
+knowest well on whose head the Lady&rsquo;s wrath would fall, and
+that would be neither thine nor mine.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Thou sayest sooth,&rdquo; said Walter; &ldquo;neither
+is treason my wont.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>So they walked on silently a while, and then Walter said:
+&ldquo;But how if the Maiden had nay-said thee; what hadst thou
+done then?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;By the heavens!&rdquo; said the King&rsquo;s Son
+fiercely, &ldquo;she should have paid for her nay-say; then would
+I&mdash;&rdquo;&nbsp; But he broke off, and said quietly, yet
+somewhat doggedly: &ldquo;Why talk of what might have been?&nbsp;
+She gave me her yea-say pleasantly and sweetly.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>Now Walter knew that the man lied, so he held his peace
+thereon; but presently he said: &ldquo;When thou art free wilt
+thou go to thine own land again?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Yea,&rdquo; said the King&rsquo;s Son; &ldquo;she will
+lead me thither.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;And wilt thou make her thy lady and queen when thou
+comest to thy father&rsquo;s land?&rdquo; said Walter.</p>
+<p>The King&rsquo;s Son knit his brow, and said: &ldquo;When I am
+in mine own land I may do with her what I will; but I look for it
+that I shall do no otherwise with her than that she shall be
+well-content.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>Then the talk between them dropped, and the King&rsquo;s Son
+turned off toward the wood, singing and joyous; but Walter went
+soberly toward the house.&nbsp; Forsooth he was not greatly cast
+down, for besides that he knew that the King&rsquo;s Son was
+false, he deemed that under this double tryst lay something which
+was a-doing in his own behalf.&nbsp; Yet was he eager and
+troubled, if not down-hearted, and his soul was cast about
+betwixt hope and fear.</p>
+<h2>CHAPTER XX: WALTER IS BIDDEN TO ANOTHER TRYST</h2>
+<p>So came he into the pillared hall, and there he found the Lady
+walking to and fro by the high-seat; and when he drew nigh she
+turned on him, and said in a voice rather eager than angry:
+&ldquo;What hast thou done, Squire?&nbsp; Why art thou come
+before me?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>He was abashed, and bowed before her and said: &ldquo;O
+gracious Lady, thou badest me service, and I have been about
+it.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>She said: &ldquo;Tell me then, tell me, what hath
+betided?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Lady,&rdquo; said he, &ldquo;when I entered the thicket
+of thy swooning I found there no carcase of the lion, nor any
+sign of the dragging away of him.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>She looked full in his face for a little, and then went to her
+chair, and sat down therein; and in a little while spake to him
+in a softer voice, and said: &ldquo;Did I not tell thee that some
+enemy had done that unto me? and lo! now thou seest that so it
+is.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>Then was she silent again, and knit her brows and set her
+teeth; and thereafter she spake harshly and fiercely: &ldquo;But
+I will overcome her, and make her days evil, but keep death away
+from her, that she may die many times over; and know all the
+sickness of the heart, when foes be nigh, and friends afar, and
+there is none to deliver!&rdquo;</p>
+<p>Her eyes flashed, and her face was dark with anger; but she
+turned and caught Walter&rsquo;s eyes, and the sternness of his
+face, and she softened at once, and said: &ldquo;But thou! this
+hath little to do with thee; and now to thee I speak: Now cometh
+even and night.&nbsp; Go thou to thy chamber, and there shalt
+thou find raiment worthy of thee, what thou now art, and what
+thou shalt be; do on the same, and make thyself most goodly, and
+then come thou hither and eat and drink with me, and afterwards
+depart whither thou wilt, till the night has worn to its midmost;
+and then come thou to my chamber, to wit, through the ivory door
+in the gallery above; and then and there shall I tell thee a
+thing, and it shall be for the weal both of thee and of me, but
+for the grief and woe of the Enemy.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>Therewith she reached her hand to him, and he kissed it, and
+departed and came to his chamber, and found raiment therebefore
+rich beyond measure; and he wondered if any new snare lay
+therein: yet if there were, he saw no way whereby he might escape
+it, so he did it on, and became as the most glorious of kings,
+and yet lovelier than any king of the world.</p>
+<p>Sithence he went his way into the pillared hall, when it was
+now night, and without the moon was up, and the trees of the wood
+as still as images.&nbsp; But within the hall shone bright with
+many candles, and the fountain glittered in the light of them, as
+it ran tinkling sweetly into the little stream; and the silvern
+bridges gleamed, and the pillars shone all round about.</p>
+<p>And there on the dais was a table dight most royally, and the
+Lady sitting thereat, clad in her most glorious array, and behind
+her the Maid standing humbly, yet clad in precious web of
+shimmering gold, but with feet unshod, and the iron ring upon her
+ankle.</p>
+<p>So Walter came his ways to the high-seat, and the Lady rose
+and greeted him, and took him by the hands, and kissed him on
+either cheek, and sat him down beside her.&nbsp; So they fell to
+their meat, and the Maid served them; but the Lady took no more
+heed of her than if she were one of the pillars of the hall; but
+Walter she caressed oft with sweet words, and the touch of her
+hand, making him drink out of her cup and eat out of her
+dish.&nbsp; As to him, he was bashful by seeming, but verily
+fearful; he took the Lady&rsquo;s caresses with what grace he
+might, and durst not so much as glance at her Maid.&nbsp; Long
+indeed seemed that banquet to him, and longer yet endured the
+weariness of his abiding there, kind to his foe and unkind to his
+friend; for after the banquet they still sat a while, and the
+Lady talked much to Walter about many things of the ways of the
+world, and he answered what he might, distraught as he was with
+the thought of those two trysts which he had to deal with.</p>
+<p>At last spake the Lady and said: &ldquo;Now must I leave thee
+for a little, and thou wottest where and how we shall meet next;
+and meanwhile disport thee as thou wilt, so that thou weary not
+thyself, for I love to see thee joyous.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>Then she arose stately and grand; but she kissed Walter on the
+mouth ere she turned to go out of the hall.&nbsp; The Maid
+followed her; but or ever she was quite gone, she stooped and
+made that sign, and looked over her shoulder at Walter, as if in
+entreaty to him, and there was fear and anguish in her face; but
+he nodded his head to her in yea-say of the tryst in the
+hazel-copse, and in a trice she was gone.</p>
+<p>Walter went down the hall, and forth into the early night; but
+in the jaws of the porch he came up against the King&rsquo;s Son,
+who, gazing at his attire glittering with all its gems in the
+moonlight, laughed out, and said: &ldquo;Now may it be seen how
+thou art risen in degree above me, whereas I am but a
+king&rsquo;s son, and that a king of a far country; whereas thou
+art a king of kings, or shalt be this night, yea, and of this
+very country wherein we both are.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>Now Walter saw the mock which lay under his words; but he kept
+back his wrath, and answered: &ldquo;Fair sir, art thou as well
+contented with thy lot as when the sun went down?&nbsp; Hast thou
+no doubt or fear?&nbsp; Will the Maid verily keep tryst with
+thee, or hath she given thee yea-say but to escape thee this
+time?&nbsp; Or, again, may she not turn to the Lady and appeal to
+her against thee?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>Now when he had spoken these words, he repented thereof, and
+feared for himself and the Maid, lest he had stirred some
+misgiving in that young man&rsquo;s foolish heart.&nbsp; But the
+King&rsquo;s Son did but laugh, and answered nought but to
+Walter&rsquo;s last words, and said: &ldquo;Yea, yea! this word
+of thine showeth how little thou wottest of that which lieth
+betwixt my darling and thine.&nbsp; Doth the lamb appeal from the
+shepherd to the wolf?&nbsp; Even so shall the Maid appeal from me
+to thy Lady.&nbsp; What! ask thy Lady at thy leisure what her
+wont hath been with her thrall; she shall think it a fair tale to
+tell thee thereof.&nbsp; But thereof is my Maid all whole now by
+reason of her wisdom in leechcraft, or somewhat more.&nbsp; And
+now I tell thee again, that the beforesaid Maid must needs do my
+will; for if I be the deep sea, and I deem not so ill of myself,
+that other one is the devil; as belike thou shalt find out for
+thyself later on.&nbsp; Yea, all is well with me, and more than
+well.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>And therewith he swung merrily into the litten hall.&nbsp; But
+Walter went out into the moonlit night, and wandered about for an
+hour or more, and stole warily into the hall and thence into his
+own chamber.&nbsp; There he did off that royal array, and did his
+own raiment upon him; he girt him with sword and knife, took his
+bow and quiver, and stole down and out again, even as he had come
+in.&nbsp; Then he fetched a compass, and came down into the
+hazel-coppice from the north, and lay hidden there while the
+night wore, till he deemed it would lack but little of
+midnight.</p>
+<h2>CHAPTER XXI: WALTER AND THE MAID FLEE FROM THE GOLDEN
+HOUSE</h2>
+<p>There he abode amidst the hazels, hearkening every littlest
+sound; and the sounds were nought but the night voices of the
+wood, till suddenly there burst forth from the house a great
+wailing cry.&nbsp; Walter&rsquo;s heart came up into his mouth,
+but he had no time to do aught, for following hard on the cry
+came the sound of light feet close to him, the boughs were thrust
+aside, and there was come the Maid, and she but in her white
+coat, and barefoot.&nbsp; And then first he felt the sweetness of
+her flesh on his, for she caught him by the hand and said
+breathlessly: &ldquo;Now, now! there may yet be time, or even too
+much, it may be.&nbsp; For the saving of breath ask me no
+questions, but come!&rdquo;</p>
+<p>He dallied not, but went as she led, and they were lightfoot,
+both of them.</p>
+<p>They went the same way, due south to wit, whereby he had gone
+a-hunting with the Lady; and whiles they ran and whiles they
+walked; but so fast they went, that by grey of the dawn they were
+come as far as that coppice or thicket of the Lion; and still
+they hastened onward, and but little had the Maid spoken, save
+here and there a word to hearten up Walter, and here and there a
+shy word of endearment.&nbsp; At last the dawn grew into early
+day, and as they came over the brow of a bent, they looked down
+over a plain land whereas the trees grew scatter-meal, and beyond
+the plain rose up the land into long green hills, and over those
+again were blue mountains great and far away.</p>
+<p>Then spake the Maid: &ldquo;Over yonder lie the outlying
+mountains of the Bears, and through them we needs must pass, to
+our great peril.&nbsp; Nay, friend,&rdquo; she said, as he
+handled his sword-hilt, &ldquo;it must be patience and wisdom to
+bring us through, and not the fallow blade of one man, though he
+be a good one.&nbsp; But look! below there runs a stream through
+the first of the plain, and I see nought for it but we must now
+rest our bodies.&nbsp; Moreover I have a tale to tell thee which
+is burning my heart; for maybe there will be a pardon to ask of
+thee moreover; wherefore I fear thee.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>Quoth Walter: &ldquo;How may that be?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>She answered him not, but took his hand and led him down the
+bent.&nbsp; But he said: &ldquo;Thou sayest, rest; but are we now
+out of all peril of the chase?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>She said: &ldquo;I cannot tell till I know what hath befallen
+her.&nbsp; If she be not to hand to set on her trackers, they
+will scarce happen on us now; if it be not for that
+one.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>And she shuddered, and he felt her hand change as he held
+it.</p>
+<p>Then she said: &ldquo;But peril or no peril, needs must we
+rest; for I tell thee again, what I have to say to thee burneth
+my bosom for fear of thee, so that I can go no further until I
+have told thee.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>Then he said: &ldquo;I wot not of this Queen and her
+mightiness and her servants.&nbsp; I will ask thereof
+later.&nbsp; But besides the others, is there not the
+King&rsquo;s Son, he who loves thee so unworthily?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>She paled somewhat, and said: &ldquo;As for him, there had
+been nought for thee to fear in him, save his treason: but now
+shall he neither love nor hate any more; he died last
+midnight.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Yea, and how?&rdquo; said Walter.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Nay,&rdquo; she said, &ldquo;let me tell my tale all
+together once for all, lest thou blame me overmuch.&nbsp; But
+first we will wash us and comfort us as best we may, and then
+amidst our resting shall the word be said.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>By then were they come down to the stream-side, which ran fair
+in pools and stickles amidst rocks and sandy banks.&nbsp; She
+said: &ldquo;There behind the great grey rock is my bath, friend;
+and here is thine; and lo! the uprising of the sun!&rdquo;</p>
+<p>So she went her ways to the said rock, and he bathed him, and
+washed the night off him, and by then he was clad again she came
+back fresh and sweet from the water, and with her lap full of
+cherries from a wilding which overhung her bath.&nbsp; So they
+sat down together on the green grass above the sand, and ate the
+breakfast of the wilderness: and Walter was full of content as he
+watched her, and beheld her sweetness and her loveliness; yet
+were they, either of them, somewhat shy and shamefaced each with
+the other; so that he did but kiss her hands once and again, and
+though she shrank not from him, yet had she no boldness to cast
+herself into his arms.</p>
+<h2>CHAPTER XXII: OF THE DWARF AND THE PARDON</h2>
+<p>Now she began to say: &ldquo;My friend, now shall I tell thee
+what I have done for thee and me; and if thou have a mind to
+blame me, and punish me, yet remember first, that what I have
+done has been for thee and our hope of happy life.&nbsp; Well, I
+shall tell thee&mdash;&rdquo;</p>
+<p>But therewithal her speech failed her; and, springing up, she
+faced the bent and pointed with her finger, and she all deadly
+pale, and shaking so that she might scarce stand, and might speak
+no word, though a feeble gibbering came from her mouth.</p>
+<p>Walter leapt up and put his arm about her, and looked
+whitherward she pointed, and at first saw nought; and then nought
+but a brown and yellow rock rolling down the bent: and then at
+last he saw that it was the Evil Thing which had met him when
+first he came into that land; and now it stood upright, and he
+could see that it was clad in a coat of yellow samite.</p>
+<p>Then Walter stooped down and gat his bow into his hand, and
+stood before the Maid, while he nocked an arrow.&nbsp; But the
+monster made ready his tackle while Walter was stooping down, and
+or ever he could loose, his bow-string twanged, and an arrow flew
+forth and grazed the Maid&rsquo;s arm above the elbow, so that
+the blood ran, and the Dwarf gave forth a harsh and horrible
+cry.&nbsp; Then flew Walter&rsquo;s shaft, and true was it aimed,
+so that it smote the monster full on the breast, but fell down
+from him as if he were made of stone.&nbsp; Then the creature set
+up his horrible cry again, and loosed withal, and Walter deemed
+that he had smitten the Maid, for she fell down in a heap behind
+him.&nbsp; Then waxed Walter wood-wroth, and cast down his bow
+and drew his sword, and strode forward towards the bent against
+the Dwarf.&nbsp; But he roared out again, and there were words in
+his roar, and he said &ldquo;Fool! thou shalt go free if thou
+wilt give up the Enemy.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;And who,&rdquo; said Walter, &ldquo;is the
+Enemy?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>Yelled the Dwarf: &ldquo;She, the pink and white thing lying
+there; she is not dead yet; she is but dying for fear of
+me.&nbsp; Yea, she hath reason!&nbsp; I could have set the shaft
+in her heart as easily as scratching her arm; but I need her body
+alive, that I may wreak me on her.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;What wilt thou do with her?&rdquo; said Walter; for now
+he had heard that the Maid was not slain he had waxed wary again,
+and stood watching his chance.</p>
+<p>The Dwarf yelled so at his last word, that no word came from
+the noise a while, and then he said: &ldquo;What will I with
+her?&nbsp; Let me at her, and stand by and look on, and then
+shalt thou have a strange tale to carry off with thee.&nbsp; For
+I will let thee go this while.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>Said Walter: &ldquo;But what need to wreak thee?&nbsp; What
+hath she done to thee?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;What need! what need!&rdquo; roared the Dwarf;
+&ldquo;have I not told thee that she is the Enemy?&nbsp; And thou
+askest of what she hath done! of what!&nbsp; Fool, she is the
+murderer! she hath slain the Lady that was our Lady, and that
+made us; she whom all we worshipped and adored.&nbsp; O impudent
+fool!&rdquo;</p>
+<p>Therewith he nocked and loosed another arrow, which would have
+smitten Walter in the face, but that he lowered his head in the
+very nick of time; then with a great shout he rushed up the bent,
+and was on the Dwarf before he could get his sword out, and
+leaping aloft dealt the creature a stroke amidmost of the crown;
+and so mightily be smote, that he drave the heavy sword right
+through to the teeth, so that he fell dead straightway.</p>
+<p>Walter stood over him a minute, and when be saw that he moved
+not, he went slowly down to the stream, whereby the Maid yet lay
+cowering down and quivering all over, and covering her face with
+her hands.&nbsp; Then he took her by the wrist and said:
+&ldquo;Up, Maiden, up! and tell me this tale of the
+slaying.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>But she shrunk away from him, and looked at him with wild
+eyes, and said: &ldquo;What hast thou done with him?&nbsp; Is he
+gone?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;He is dead,&rdquo; said Walter; &ldquo;I have slain
+him; there lies he with cloven skull on the bent-side: unless,
+forsooth, he vanish away like the lion I slew! or else,
+perchance, he will come to life again!&nbsp; And art thou a lie
+like to the rest of them? let me hear of this slaying.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>She rose up, and stood before him trembling, and said:
+&ldquo;O, thou art angry with me, and thine anger I cannot
+bear.&nbsp; Ah, what have I done?&nbsp; Thou hast slain one, and
+I, maybe, the other; and never had we escaped till both these
+twain were dead.&nbsp; Ah! thou dost not know! thou dost not
+know!&nbsp; O me! what shall I do to appease thy
+wrath!&rdquo;</p>
+<p>He looked on her, and his heart rose to his mouth at the
+thought of sundering from her.&nbsp; Still he looked on her, and
+her piteous friendly face melted all his heart; he threw down his
+sword, and took her by the shoulders, and kissed her face over
+and over, and strained her to him, so that he felt the sweetness
+of her bosom.&nbsp; Then he lifted her up like a child, and set
+her down on the green grass, and went down to the water, and
+filled his hat therefrom, and came back to her; then he gave her
+to drink, and bathed her face and her hands, so that the colour
+came aback to the cheeks and lips of her: and she smiled on him
+and kissed his hands, and said: &ldquo;O now thou art kind to
+me.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Yea,&rdquo; said he, &ldquo;and true it is that if thou
+hast slain, I have done no less, and if thou hast lied, even so
+have I; and if thou hast played the wanton, as I deem not that
+thou hast, I full surely have so done.&nbsp; So now thou shalt
+pardon me, and when thy spirit has come back to thee, thou shalt
+tell me thy tale in all friendship, and in all loving-kindness
+will I hearken the same.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>Therewith he knelt before her and kissed her feet.&nbsp; But
+she said: &ldquo;Yea, yea; what thou willest, that will I
+do.&nbsp; But first tell me one thing.&nbsp; Hast thou buried
+this horror and hidden him in the earth?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>He deemed that fear had bewildered her, and that she scarcely
+yet knew how things had gone.&nbsp; But he said: &ldquo;Fair
+sweet friend, I have not done it as yet; but now will I go and do
+it, if it seem good to thee.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Yea,&rdquo; she said, &ldquo;but first must thou smite
+off his head, and lie it by his buttocks when he is in the earth;
+or evil things will happen else.&nbsp; This of the burying is no
+idle matter, I bid thee believe.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;I doubt it not,&rdquo; said he; &ldquo;surely such
+malice as was in this one will be hard to slay.&rdquo;&nbsp; And
+he picked up his sword, and turned to go to the field of
+deed.</p>
+<p>She said: &ldquo;I must needs go with thee; terror hath so
+filled my soul, that I durst not abide here without
+thee.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>So they went both together to where the creature lay.&nbsp;
+The Maid durst not look on the dead monster, but Walter noted
+that he was girt with a big ungainly sax; so he drew it from the
+sheath, and there smote off the hideous head of the fiend with
+his own weapon.&nbsp; Then they twain together laboured the
+earth, she with Walter&rsquo;s sword, he with the ugly sax, till
+they had made a grave deep and wide enough; and therein they
+thrust the creature, and covered him up, weapons and all
+together.</p>
+<h2>CHAPTER XXIII: OF THE PEACEFUL ENDING OF THAT WILD DAY</h2>
+<p>Thereafter Walter led the Maid down again, and said to her:
+&ldquo;Now, sweetling, shall the story be told.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Nay, friend,&rdquo; she said, &ldquo;not here.&nbsp;
+This place hath been polluted by my craven fear, and the horror
+of the vile wretch, of whom no words may tell his vileness.&nbsp;
+Let us hence and onward.&nbsp; Thou seest I have once more come
+to life again.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;But,&rdquo; said he, &ldquo;thou hast been hurt by the
+Dwarf&rsquo;s arrow.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>She laughed, and said: &ldquo;Had I never had greater hurt
+from them than that, little had been the tale thereof: yet
+whereas thou lookest dolorous about it, we will speedily heal
+it.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>Therewith she sought about, and found nigh the stream-side
+certain herbs; and she spake words over them, and bade Walter lay
+them on the wound, which, forsooth, was of the least, and he did
+so, and bound a strip of his shirt about her arm; and then would
+she set forth.&nbsp; But he said: &ldquo;Thou art all unshod; and
+but if that be seen to, our journey shall be stayed by thy
+foot-soreness: I may make a shift to fashion thee
+brogues.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>She said: &ldquo;I may well go barefoot.&nbsp; And in any
+case, I entreat thee that we tarry here no longer, but go away
+hence, if it be but for a mile.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>And she looked piteously on him, so that he might not gainsay
+her.</p>
+<p>So then they crossed the stream, and set forward, when amidst
+all these haps the day was worn to midmorning.&nbsp; But after
+they had gone a mile, they sat them down on a knoll under the
+shadow of a big thorn-tree, within sight of the mountains.&nbsp;
+Then said Walter: &ldquo;Now will I cut thee the brogues from the
+skirt of my buff-coat, which shall be well meet for such work;
+and meanwhile shalt thou tell me thy tale.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Thou art kind,&rdquo; she said; &ldquo;but be kinder
+yet, and abide my tale till we have done our day&rsquo;s
+work.&nbsp; For we were best to make no long delay here; because,
+though thou hast slain the King-dwarf, yet there be others of his
+kindred, who swarm in some parts of the wood as the rabbits in a
+warren.&nbsp; Now true it is that they have but little
+understanding, less, it may be, than the very brute beasts; and
+that, as I said afore, unless they be set on our slot like to
+hounds, they shall have no inkling of where to seek us, yet might
+they happen upon us by mere misadventure.&nbsp; And moreover,
+friend,&rdquo; quoth she, blushing, &ldquo;I would beg of thee
+some little respite; for though I scarce fear thy wrath any more,
+since thou hast been so kind to me, yet is there shame in that
+which I have to tell thee.&nbsp; Wherefore, since the fairest of
+the day is before us, let us use it all we may, and, when thou
+hast done me my new foot-gear, get us gone forward
+again.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>He kissed her kindly and yea-said her asking: he had already
+fallen to work on the leather, and in a while had fashioned her
+the brogues; so she tied them to her feet, and arose with a smile
+and said: &ldquo;Now am I hale and strong again, what with the
+rest, and what with thy loving-kindness, and thou shalt see how
+nimble I shall be to leave this land, for as fair as it is.&nbsp;
+Since forsooth a land of lies it is, and of grief to the children
+of Adam.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>So they went their ways thence, and fared nimbly indeed, and
+made no stay till some three hours after noon, when they rested
+by a thicket-side, where the strawberries grew plenty; they ate
+thereof what they would: and from a great oak hard by Walter shot
+him first one culver, and then another, and hung them to his
+girdle to be for their evening&rsquo;s meal; sithence they went
+forward again, and nought befell them to tell of, till they were
+come, whenas it lacked scarce an hour of sunset, to the banks of
+another river, not right great, but bigger than the last
+one.&nbsp; There the Maid cast herself down and said:
+&ldquo;Friend, no further will thy friend go this even; nay, to
+say sooth, she cannot.&nbsp; So now we will eat of thy venison,
+and then shall my tale be, since I may no longer delay it; and
+thereafter shall our slumber be sweet and safe as I
+deem.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>She spake merrily now, and as one who feared nothing, and
+Walter was much heartened by her words and her voice, and he fell
+to and made a fire, and a woodland oven in the earth, and
+sithence dighted his fowl, and baked them after the manner of
+wood-men.&nbsp; And they ate, both of them, in all love, and in
+good-liking of life, and were much strengthened by their
+supper.&nbsp; And when they were done, Walter eked his fire, both
+against the chill of the midnight and dawning, and for a guard
+against wild beasts, and by that time night was come, and the
+moon arisen.&nbsp; Then the Maiden drew up to the fire, and
+turned to Walter and spake.</p>
+<h2>CHAPTER XXIV: THE MAID TELLS OF WHAT HAD BEFALLEN HER</h2>
+<p>&ldquo;Now, friend, by the clear of the moon and this
+firelight will I tell what I may and can of my tale.&nbsp; Thus
+it is: If I be wholly of the race of Adam I wot not nor can I
+tell thee how many years old I may be.&nbsp; For there are, as it
+were, shards or gaps in my life, wherein are but a few things
+dimly remembered, and doubtless many things forgotten.&nbsp; I
+remember well when I was a little child, and right happy, and
+there were people about me whom I loved, and who loved me.&nbsp;
+It was not in this land; but all things were lovely there; the
+year&rsquo;s beginning, the happy mid-year, the year&rsquo;s
+waning, the year&rsquo;s ending, and then again its
+beginning.&nbsp; That passed away, and then for a while is more
+than dimness, for nought I remember save that I was.&nbsp;
+Thereafter I remember again, and am a young maiden, and I know
+some things, and long to know more.&nbsp; I am nowise happy; I am
+amongst people who bid me go, and I go; and do this, and I do it:
+none loveth me, none tormenteth me; but I wear my heart in
+longing for I scarce know what.&nbsp; Neither then am I in this
+land, but in a land that I love not, and a house that is big and
+stately, but nought lovely.&nbsp; Then is a dim time again, and
+sithence a time not right clear; an evil time, wherein I am
+older, wellnigh grown to womanhood.&nbsp; There are a many folk
+about me, and they foul, and greedy, and hard; and my spirit is
+fierce, and my body feeble; and I am set to tasks that I would
+not do, by them that are unwiser than I; and smitten I am by them
+that are less valiant than I; and I know lack, and stripes, and
+divers misery.&nbsp; But all that is now become but a dim picture
+to me, save that amongst all these unfriends is a friend to me;
+an old woman, who telleth me sweet tales of other life, wherein
+all is high and goodly, or at the least valiant and doughty, and
+she setteth hope in my heart and learneth me, and maketh me to
+know much . . . O much . . . so that at last I am grown wise, and
+wise to be mighty if I durst.&nbsp; Yet am I nought in this land
+all this while, but, as meseemeth, in a great and a foul
+city.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;And then, as it were, I fall asleep; and in my sleep is
+nought, save here and there a wild dream, somedeal lovely,
+somedeal hideous: but of this dream is my Mistress a part, and
+the monster, withal, whose head thou didst cleave to-day.&nbsp;
+But when I am awaken from it, then am I verily in this land, and
+myself, as thou seest me to-day.&nbsp; And the first part of my
+life here is this, that I am in the pillared ball yonder,
+half-clad and with bound hands; and the Dwarf leadeth me to the
+Lady, and I hear his horrible croak as he sayeth: &lsquo;Lady,
+will this one do?&rsquo; and then the sweet voice of the Lady
+saying: &lsquo;This one will do; thou shalt have thy reward: now,
+set thou the token upon her.&rsquo;&nbsp; Then I remember the
+Dwarf dragging me away, and my heart sinking for fear of him: but
+for that time he did me no more harm than the rivetting upon my
+leg this iron ring which here thou seest.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;So from that time forward I have lived in this land,
+and been the thrall of the Lady; and I remember my life here day
+by day, and no part of it has fallen into the dimness of
+dreams.&nbsp; Thereof will I tell thee but little: but this I
+will tell thee, that in spite of my past dreams, or it may be
+because of them, I had not lost the wisdom which the old woman
+had erst learned me, and for more wisdom I longed.&nbsp; Maybe
+this longing shall now make both thee and me happy, but for the
+passing time it brought me grief.&nbsp; For at first my Mistress
+was indeed wayward with me, but as any great lady might be with
+her bought thrall, whiles caressing me, and whiles chastising me,
+as her mood went; but she seemed not to be cruel of malice, or
+with any set purpose.&nbsp; But so it was (rather little by
+little than by any great sudden uncovering of my intent), that
+she came to know that I also had some of the wisdom whereby she
+lived her queenly life.&nbsp; That was about two years after I
+was first her thrall, and three weary years have gone by since
+she began to see in me the enemy of her days.&nbsp; Now why or
+wherefore I know not, but it seemeth that it would not avail her
+to slay me outright, or suffer me to die; but nought withheld her
+from piling up griefs and miseries on my head.&nbsp; At last she
+set her servant, the Dwarf, upon me, even he whose head thou
+clavest to-day.&nbsp; Many things I bore from him whereof it were
+unseemly for my tongue to tell before thee; but the time came
+when he exceeded, and I could bear no more; and then I showed him
+this sharp knife (wherewith I would have thrust me through to the
+heart if thou hadst not pardoned me e&rsquo;en now), and I told
+him that if he forbore me not, I would slay, not him, but myself;
+and this he might not away with because of the commandment of the
+Lady, who had given him the word that in any case I must be kept
+living.&nbsp; And her hand, withal, fear held somewhat
+hereafter.&nbsp; Yet was there need to me of all my wisdom; for
+with all this her hatred grew, and whiles raged within her so
+furiously that it overmastered her fear, and at such times she
+would have put me to death if I had not escaped her by some turn
+of my lore.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Now further, I shall tell thee that somewhat more than
+a year ago hither to this land came the King&rsquo;s Son, the
+second goodly man, as thou art the third, whom her sorceries have
+drawn hither since I have dwelt here.&nbsp; Forsooth, when he
+first came, he seemed to us, to me, and yet more to my Lady, to
+be as beautiful as an angel, and sorely she loved him; and he
+her, after his fashion: but he was light-minded, and
+cold-hearted, and in a while he must needs turn his eyes upon me,
+and offer me his love, which was but foul and unkind as it turned
+out; for when I nay-said him, as maybe I had not done save for
+fear of my Mistress, he had no pity upon me, but spared not to
+lead me into the trap of her wrath, and leave me without help, or
+a good word.&nbsp; But, O friend, in spite of all grief and
+anguish, I learned still, and waxed wise, and wiser, abiding the
+day of my deliverance, which has come, and thou art
+come.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>Therewith she took Walter&rsquo;s hands and kissed them; but
+he kissed her face, and her tears wet her lips.&nbsp; Then she
+went on: &ldquo;But sithence, months ago, the Lady began to weary
+of this dastard, despite of his beauty; and then it was thy turn
+to be swept into her net; I partly guess how.&nbsp; For on a day
+in broad daylight, as I was serving my Mistress in the hall, and
+the Evil Thing, whose head is now cloven, was lying across the
+threshold of the door, as it were a dream fell upon me, though I
+strove to cast it off for fear of chastisement; for the pillared
+hall wavered, and vanished from my sight, and my feet were
+treading a rough stone pavement instead of the marble wonder of
+the hall, and there was the scent of the salt sea and of the
+tackle of ships, and behind me were tall houses, and before me
+the ships indeed, with their ropes beating and their sails
+flapping and their masts wavering; and in mine ears was the hale
+and how of mariners; things that I had seen and heard in the
+dimness of my life gone by.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;And there was I, and the Dwarf before me, and the Lady
+after me, going over the gangway aboard of a tall ship, and she
+gathered way and was gotten out of the haven, and straightway I
+saw the mariners cast abroad their ancient.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>Quoth Walter: &ldquo;What then!&nbsp; Sawest thou the blazon
+thereon, of a wolf-like beast ramping up against a maiden?&nbsp;
+And that might well have been thou.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>She said: &ldquo;Yea, so it was; but refrain thee, that I may
+tell on my tale!&nbsp; The ship and the sea vanished away, but I
+was not back in the hall of the Golden House; and again were we
+three in the street of the self-same town which we had but just
+left; but somewhat dim was my vision thereof, and I saw little
+save the door of a goodly house before me, and speedily it died
+out, and we were again in the pillared hall, wherein my thralldom
+was made manifest.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Maiden,&rdquo; said Walter, &ldquo;one question I would
+ask thee; to wit, didst thou see me on the quay by the
+ships?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Nay,&rdquo; she said, &ldquo;there were many folk
+about, but they were all as images of the aliens to me.&nbsp; Now
+hearken further: three months thereafter came the dream upon me
+again, when we were all three together in the Pillared Hall; and
+again was the vision somewhat dim.&nbsp; Once more we were in the
+street of a busy town, but all unlike to that other one, and
+there were men standing together on our right hands by the door
+of a house.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Yea, yea,&rdquo; quoth Walter; &ldquo;and, forsooth,
+one of them was who but I.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Refrain thee, beloved!&rdquo; she said; &ldquo;for my
+tale draweth to its ending, and I would have thee hearken
+heedfully: for maybe thou shalt once again deem my deed past
+pardon.&nbsp; Some twenty days after this last dream, I had some
+leisure from my Mistress&rsquo;s service, so I went to disport me
+by the Well of the Oak-tree (or forsooth she might have set in my
+mind the thought of going there, that I might meet thee and give
+her some occasion against me); and I sat thereby, nowise loving
+the earth, but sick at heart, because of late the King&rsquo;s
+Son had been more than ever instant with me to yield him my body,
+threatening me else with casting me into all that the worst could
+do to me of torments and shames day by day.&nbsp; I say my heart
+failed me, and I was wellnigh brought to the point of yea-saying
+his desires, that I might take the chance of something befalling
+me that were less bad than the worst.&nbsp; But here must I tell
+thee a thing, and pray thee to take it to heart.&nbsp; This, more
+than aught else, had given me strength to nay-say that dastard,
+that my wisdom both hath been, and now is, the wisdom of a wise
+maid, and not of a woman, and all the might thereof shall I lose
+with my maidenhead.&nbsp; Evil wilt thou think of me then, for
+all I was tried so sore, that I was at point to cast it all away,
+so wretchedly as I shrank from the horror of the Lady&rsquo;s
+wrath.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;But there as I sat pondering these things, I saw a man
+coming, and thought no otherwise thereof but that it was the
+King&rsquo;s Son, till I saw the stranger drawing near, and his
+golden hair, and his grey eyes; and then I heard his voice, and
+his kindness pierced my heart, and I knew that my friend had come
+to see me; and O, friend, these tears are for the sweetness of
+that past hour!&rdquo;</p>
+<p>Said Walter: &ldquo;I came to see my friend, I also.&nbsp; Now
+have I noted what thou badest me; and I will forbear all as thou
+commandest me, till we be safe out of the desert and far away
+from all evil things; but wilt thou ban me from all
+caresses?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>She laughed amidst of her tears, and said: &ldquo;O, nay, poor
+lad, if thou wilt be but wise.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>Then she leaned toward him, and took his face betwixt her
+hands and kissed him oft, and the tears started in his eyes for
+love and pity of her.</p>
+<p>Then she said: &ldquo;Alas, friend! even yet mayst thou doom
+me guilty, and all thy love may turn away from me, when I have
+told thee all that I have done for the sake of thee and me.&nbsp;
+O, if then there might be some chastisement for the guilty woman,
+and not mere sundering!&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Fear nothing, sweetling,&rdquo; said he; &ldquo;for
+indeed I deem that already I know partly what thou hast
+done.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>She sighed, and said: &ldquo;I will tell thee next, that I
+banned thy kissing and caressing of me till to-day because I knew
+that my Mistress would surely know if a man, if thou, hadst so
+much as touched a finger of mine in love, it was to try me herein
+that on the morning of the hunting she kissed and embraced me,
+till I almost died thereof, and showed thee my shoulder and my
+limbs; and to try thee withal, if thine eye should glister or thy
+cheek flush thereat; for indeed she was raging in jealousy of
+thee.&nbsp; Next, my friend, even whiles we were talking together
+at the Well of the Rock, I was pondering on what we should do to
+escape from this land of lies.&nbsp; Maybe thou wilt say: Why
+didst thou not take my hand and flee with me as we fled
+to-day?&nbsp; Friend, it is most true, that were she not dead we
+had not escaped thus far.&nbsp; For her trackers would have
+followed us, set on by her, and brought us back to an evil
+fate.&nbsp; Therefore I tell thee that from the first I did plot
+the death of those two, the Dwarf and the Mistress.&nbsp; For no
+otherwise mightest thou live, or I escape from death in
+life.&nbsp; But as to the dastard who threatened me with a
+thrall&rsquo;s pains, I heeded him nought to live or die, for
+well I knew that thy valiant sword, yea, or thy bare hands, would
+speedily tame him.&nbsp; Now first I knew that I must make a show
+of yielding to the King&rsquo;s Son; and somewhat how I did
+therein, thou knowest.&nbsp; But no night and no time did I give
+him to bed me, till after I had met thee as thou wentest to the
+Golden House, before the adventure of fetching the lion&rsquo;s
+skin; and up to that time I had scarce known what to do, save
+ever to bid thee, with sore grief and pain, to yield thee to the
+wicked woman&rsquo;s desire.&nbsp; But as we spake together there
+by the stream, and I saw that the Evil Thing (whose head thou
+clavest e&rsquo;en now) was spying on us, then amidst the
+sickness of terror which ever came over me whensoever I thought
+of him, and much more when I saw him (ah! he is dead now!), it
+came flashing into my mind how I might destroy my enemy.&nbsp;
+Therefore I made the Dwarf my messenger to her, by bidding thee
+to my bed in such wise that he might hear it.&nbsp; And wot thou
+well, that he speedily carried her the tidings.&nbsp; Meanwhile I
+hastened to lie to the King&rsquo;s Son, and all privily bade him
+come to me and not thee.&nbsp; And thereafter, by dint of waiting
+and watching, and taking the only chance that there was, I met
+thee as thou camest back from fetching the skin of the lion that
+never was, and gave thee that warning, or else had we been undone
+indeed.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>Said Walter: &ldquo;Was the lion of her making or of thine
+then?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>She said: &ldquo;Of hers: why should I deal with such a
+matter?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Yea,&rdquo; said Walter, &ldquo;but she verily swooned,
+and she was verily wroth with the Enemy.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>The Maid smiled, and said: &ldquo;If her lie was not like very
+sooth, then had she not been the crafts-master that I knew her:
+one may lie otherwise than with the tongue alone: yet indeed her
+wrath against the Enemy was nought feigned; for the Enemy was
+even I, and in these latter days never did her wrath leave
+me.&nbsp; But to go on with my tale.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Now doubt thou not, that, when thou camest into the
+hall yester eve, the Mistress knew of thy counterfeit tryst with
+me, and meant nought but death for thee; yet first would she have
+thee in her arms again, therefore did she make much of thee at
+table (and that was partly for my torment also), and therefore
+did she make that tryst with thee, and deemed doubtless that thou
+wouldst not dare to forgo it, even if thou shouldst go to me
+thereafter.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Now I had trained that dastard to me as I have told
+thee, but I gave him a sleepy draught, so that when I came to the
+bed he might not move toward me nor open his eyes: but I lay down
+beside him, so that the Lady might know that my body had been
+there; for well had she wotted if it had not.&nbsp; Then as there
+I lay I cast over him thy shape, so that none might have known
+but that thou wert lying by my side, and there, trembling, I
+abode what should befall.&nbsp; Thus I passed through the hour
+whenas thou shouldest have been at her chamber, and the time of
+my tryst with thee was come as the Mistress would be deeming; so
+that I looked for her speedily, and my heart wellnigh failed me
+for fear of her cruelty.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Presently then I heard a stirring in her chamber, and I
+slipped from out the bed, and hid me behind the hangings, and was
+like to die for fear of her; and lo, presently she came stealing
+in softly, holding a lamp in one hand and a knife in the
+other.&nbsp; And I tell thee of a sooth that I also had a sharp
+knife in my hand to defend my life if need were.&nbsp; She held
+the lamp up above her head before she drew near to the bed-side,
+and I heard her mutter: &lsquo;She is not there then! but she
+shall be taken.&rsquo;&nbsp; Then she went up to the bed and
+stooped over it, and laid her hand on the place where I had lain;
+and therewith her eyes turned to that false image of thee lying
+there, and she fell a-trembling and shaking, and the lamp fell to
+the ground and was quenched (but there was bright moonlight in
+the room, and still I could see what betid).&nbsp; But she
+uttered a noise like the low roar of a wild beast, and I saw her
+arm and hand rise up, and the flashing of the steel beneath the
+hand, and then down came the hand and the steel, and I went nigh
+to swooning lest perchance I had wrought over well, and thine
+image were thy very self.&nbsp; The dastard died without a groan:
+why should I lament him?&nbsp; I cannot.&nbsp; But the Lady drew
+him toward her, and snatched the clothes from off his shoulders
+and breast, and fell a-gibbering sounds mostly without meaning,
+but broken here and there with words.&nbsp; Then I heard her say:
+&lsquo;I shall forget; I shall forget; and the new days shall
+come.&rsquo;&nbsp; Then was there silence of her a little, and
+thereafter she cried out in a terrible voice: &lsquo;O no, no,
+no!&nbsp; I cannot forget; I cannot forget;&rsquo; and she raised
+a great wailing cry that filled all the night with horror (didst
+thou not hear it?), and caught up the knife from the bed and
+thrust it into her breast, and fell down a dead heap over the bed
+and on to the man whom she had slain.&nbsp; And then I thought of
+thee, and joy smote across my terror; how shall I gainsay
+it?&nbsp; And I fled away to thee, and I took thine hands in
+mine, thy dear hands, and we fled away together.&nbsp; Shall we
+be still together?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>He spoke slowly, and touched her not, and she, forbearing all
+sobbing and weeping, sat looking wistfully on him.&nbsp; He said:
+&ldquo;I think thou hast told me all; and whether thy guile slew
+her, or her own evil heart, she was slain last night who lay in
+mine arms the night before.&nbsp; It was ill, and ill done of me,
+for I loved not her, but thee, and I wished for her death that I
+might be with thee.&nbsp; Thou wottest this, and still thou
+lovest me, it may be overweeningly.&nbsp; What have I to say
+then?&nbsp; If there be any guilt of guile, I also was in the
+guile; and if there be any guilt of murder, I also was in the
+murder.&nbsp; Thus we say to each other; and to God and his
+Hallows we say: &lsquo;We two have conspired to slay the woman
+who tormented one of us, and would have slain the other; and if
+we have done amiss therein, then shall we two together pay the
+penalty; for in this have we done as one body and one
+soul.&rsquo;&rdquo;</p>
+<p>Therewith he put his arms about her and kissed her, but
+soberly and friendly, as if he would comfort her.&nbsp; And
+thereafter he said to her: &ldquo;Maybe to-morrow, in the
+sunlight, I will ask thee of this woman, what she verily was; but
+now let her be.&nbsp; And thou, thou art over-wearied, and I bid
+thee sleep.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>So he went about and gathered of bracken a great heap for her
+bed, and did his coat thereover, and led her thereto, and she lay
+down meekly, and smiled and crossed her arms over her bosom, and
+presently fell asleep.&nbsp; But as for him, he watched by the
+fire-side till dawn began to glimmer, and then he also laid him
+down and slept.</p>
+<h2>CHAPTER XXV: OF THE TRIUMPHANT SUMMER ARRAY OF THE MAID</h2>
+<p>When the day was bright Walter arose, and met the Maid coming
+from the river-bank, fresh and rosy from the water.&nbsp; She
+paled a little when they met face to face, and she shrank from
+him shyly.&nbsp; But he took her hand and kissed her frankly; and
+the two were glad, and had no need to tell each other of their
+joy, though much else they deemed they had to say, could they
+have found words thereto.</p>
+<p>So they came to their fire and sat down, and fell to
+breakfast; and ere they were done, the Maid said: &ldquo;My
+Master, thou seest we be come nigh unto the hill-country, and
+to-day about sunset, belike, we shall come into the Land of the
+Bear-folk; and both it is, that there is peril if we fall into
+their hands, and that we may scarce escape them.&nbsp; Yet I deem
+that we may deal with the peril by wisdom.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;What is the peril?&rdquo; said Walter; &ldquo;I mean,
+what is the worst of it?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>Said the Maid: &ldquo;To be offered up in sacrifice to their
+God.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;But if we escape death at their hands, what
+then?&rdquo; said Walter.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;One of two things,&rdquo; said she; &ldquo;the first
+that they shall take us into their tribe.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;And will they sunder us in that case?&rdquo; said
+Walter.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Nay,&rdquo; said she.</p>
+<p>Walter laughed and said: &ldquo;Therein is little harm
+then.&nbsp; But what is the other chance?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>Said she: &ldquo;That we leave them with their goodwill, and
+come back to one of the lands of Christendom.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>Said Walter: &ldquo;I am not all so sure that this is the
+better of the two choices, though, forsooth, thou seemest to
+think so.&nbsp; But tell me now, what like is their God, that
+they should offer up new-comers to him?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Their God is a woman,&rdquo; she said, &ldquo;and the
+Mother of their nation and tribes (or so they deem) before the
+days when they had chieftains and Lords of Battle.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;That will be long ago,&rdquo; said he; &ldquo;how then
+may she be living now?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>Said the Maid: &ldquo;Doubtless that woman of yore agone is
+dead this many and many a year; but they take to them still a new
+woman, one after other, as they may happen on them, to be in the
+stead of the Ancient Mother.&nbsp; And to tell thee the very
+truth right out, she that lieth dead in the Pillared Hall was
+even the last of these; and now, if they knew it, they lack a
+God.&nbsp; This shall we tell them.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Yea, yea!&rdquo; said Walter, &ldquo;a goodly welcome
+shall we have of them then, if we come amongst them with our
+hands red with the blood of their God!&rdquo;</p>
+<p>She smiled on him and said: &ldquo;If I come amongst them with
+the tidings that I have slain her, and they trow therein, without
+doubt they shall make me Lady and Goddess in her
+stead.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;This is a strange word,&rdquo; said Walter &ldquo;but
+if so they do, how shall that further us in reaching the kindreds
+of the world, and the folk of Holy Church?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>She laughed outright, so joyous was she grown, now that she
+knew that his life was yet to be a part of hers.&nbsp;
+&ldquo;Sweetheart,&rdquo; she said, &ldquo;now I see that thou
+desirest wholly what I desire; yet in any case, abiding with them
+would be living and not dying, even as thou hadst it e&rsquo;en
+now.&nbsp; But, forsooth, they will not hinder our departure if
+they deem me their God; they do not look for it, nor desire it,
+that their God should dwell with them daily.&nbsp; Have no
+fear.&rdquo;&nbsp; Then she laughed again, and said: &ldquo;What!
+thou lookest on me and deemest me to be but a sorry image of a
+goddess; and me with my scanty coat and bare arms and naked
+feet!&nbsp; But wait!&nbsp; I know well how to array me when the
+time cometh.&nbsp; Thou shalt see it!&nbsp; And now, my Master,
+were it not meet that we took to the road?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>So they arose, and found a ford of the river that took the
+Maid but to the knee, and so set forth up the greensward of the
+slopes whereas there were but few trees; so went they faring
+toward the hill-country.</p>
+<p>At the last they were come to the feet of the very hills, and
+in the hollows betwixt the buttresses of them grew nut and berry
+trees, and the greensward round about them was both thick and
+much flowery.&nbsp; There they stayed them and dined, whereas
+Walter had shot a hare by the way, and they had found a bubbling
+spring under a grey stone in a bight of the coppice, wherein now
+the birds were singing their best.</p>
+<p>When they had eaten and had rested somewhat, the Maid arose
+and said: &ldquo;Now shall the Queen array herself, and seem like
+a very goddess.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>Then she fell to work, while Walter looked on; and she made a
+garland for her head of eglantine where the roses were the
+fairest; and with mingled flowers of the summer she wreathed her
+middle about, and let the garland of them hang down to below her
+knees; and knots of the flowers she made fast to the skirts of
+her coat, and did them for arm-rings about her arms, and for
+anklets and sandals for her feet.&nbsp; Then she set a garland
+about Walter&rsquo;s head, and then stood a little off from him
+and set her feet together, and lifted up her arms, and said:
+&ldquo;Lo now! am I not as like to the Mother of Summer as if I
+were clad in silk and gold? and even so shall I be deemed by the
+folk of the Bear.&nbsp; Come now, thou shalt see how all shall be
+well.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>She laughed joyously; but he might scarce laugh for pity of
+his love.&nbsp; Then they set forth again, and began to climb the
+hills, and the hours wore as they went in sweet converse; till at
+last Walter looked on the Maid, and smiled on her, and said:
+&ldquo;One thing I would say to thee, lovely friend, to wit: wert
+thou clad in silk and gold, thy stately raiment might well suffer
+a few stains, or here and there a rent maybe; but stately would
+it be still when the folk of the Bear should come up against
+thee.&nbsp; But as to this flowery array of thine, in a few hours
+it shall be all faded and nought.&nbsp; Nay, even now, as I look
+on thee, the meadow-sweet that hangeth from thy girdle-stead has
+waxen dull, and welted; and the blossoming eyebright that is for
+a hem to the little white coat of thee is already forgetting how
+to be bright and blue.&nbsp; What sayest thou then?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>She laughed at his word, and stood still, and looked back over
+her shoulder, while with her fingers she dealt with the flowers
+about her side like to a bird preening his feathers.&nbsp; Then
+she said: &ldquo;Is it verily so as thou sayest?&nbsp; Look
+again!&rdquo;</p>
+<p>So he looked, and wondered; for lo! beneath his eyes the
+spires of the meadow-sweet grew crisp and clear again, the
+eyebright blossoms shone once more over the whiteness of her
+legs; the eglantine roses opened, and all was as fresh and bright
+as if it were still growing on its own roots.</p>
+<p>He wondered, and was even somedeal aghast; but she said:
+&ldquo;Dear friend, be not troubled! did I not tell thee that I
+am wise in hidden lore?&nbsp; But in my wisdom shall be no longer
+any scathe to any man.&nbsp; And again, this my wisdom, as I told
+thee erst, shall end on the day whereon I am made all
+happy.&nbsp; And it is thou that shall wield it all, my
+Master.&nbsp; Yet must my wisdom needs endure for a little season
+yet.&nbsp; Let us on then, boldly and happily.&rdquo;</p>
+<h2>CHAPTER XXVI: THEY COME TO THE FOLK OF THE BEARS</h2>
+<p>On they went, and before long they were come up on to the
+down-country, where was scarce a tree, save gnarled and knotty
+thorn-bushes here and there, but nought else higher than the
+whin.&nbsp; And here on these upper lands they saw that the
+pastures were much burned with the drought, albeit summer was not
+worn old.&nbsp; Now they went making due south toward the
+mountains, whose heads they saw from time to time rising deep
+blue over the bleak greyness of the down-land ridges.&nbsp; And
+so they went, till at last, hard on sunset, after they had
+climbed long over a high bent, they came to the brow thereof,
+and, looking down, beheld new tidings.</p>
+<p>There was a wide valley below them, greener than the downs
+which they had come over, and greener yet amidmost, from the
+watering of a stream which, all beset with willows, wound about
+the bottom.&nbsp; Sheep and neat were pasturing about the dale,
+and moreover a long line of smoke was going up straight into the
+windless heavens from the midst of a ring of little round houses
+built of turfs, and thatched with reed.&nbsp; And beyond that,
+toward an eastward-lying bight of the dale, they could see what
+looked like to a doom-ring of big stones, though there were no
+rocky places in that land.&nbsp; About the cooking-fire amidst of
+the houses, and here and there otherwhere, they saw, standing or
+going to and fro, huge figures of men and women, with children
+playing about betwixt them.</p>
+<p>They stood and gazed down at it for a minute or two, and
+though all were at peace there, yet to Walter, at least, it
+seemed strange and awful.&nbsp; He spake softly, as though he
+would not have his voice reach those men, though they were,
+forsooth, out of earshot of anything save a shout: &ldquo;Are
+these then the children of the Bear?&nbsp; What shall we do
+now?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>She said: &ldquo;Yea, of the Bear they be, though there be
+other folks of them far and far away to the northward and
+eastward, near to the borders of the sea.&nbsp; And as to what we
+shall do, let us go down at once, and peacefully.&nbsp; Indeed,
+by now there will be no escape from them; for lo you! they have
+seen us.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>Forsooth, some three or four of the big men had turned them
+toward the bent whereon stood the twain, and were hailing them in
+huge, rough voices, wherein, howsoever, seemed to be no anger or
+threat.&nbsp; So the Maid took Walter by the hand, and thus they
+went down quietly, and the Bear-folk, seeing them, stood all
+together, facing them, to abide their coming.&nbsp; Walter saw of
+them, that though they were very tall and bigly made, they were
+not so far above the stature of men as to be marvels.&nbsp; The
+carles were long-haired, and shaggy of beard, and their hair all
+red or tawny; their skins, where their naked flesh showed, were
+burned brown with sun and weather, but to a fair and pleasant
+brown, nought like to blackamoors.&nbsp; The queans were comely
+and well-eyed; nor was there anything of fierce or evil-looking
+about either the carles or the queans, but somewhat grave and
+solemn of aspect were they.&nbsp; Clad were they all, saving the
+young men-children, but somewhat scantily, and in nought save
+sheep-skins or deer-skins.</p>
+<p>For weapons they saw amongst them clubs, and spears headed
+with bone or flint, and ugly axes of big flints set in wooden
+handles; nor was there, as far as they could see, either now or
+afterward, any bow amongst them.&nbsp; But some of the young men
+seemed to have slings done about their shoulders.</p>
+<p>Now when they were come but three fathom from them, the Maid
+lifted up her voice, and spake clearly and sweetly: &ldquo;Hail,
+ye folk of the Bears! we have come amongst you, and that for your
+good and not for your hurt: wherefore we would know if we be
+welcome.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>There was an old man who stood foremost in the midst, clad in
+a mantle of deer-skins worked very goodly, and with a gold ring
+on his arm, and a chaplet of blue stones on his head, and he
+spake: &ldquo;Little are ye, but so goodly, that if ye were but
+bigger, we should deem that ye were come from the Gods&rsquo;
+House.&nbsp; Yet have I heard, that how mighty soever may the
+Gods be, and chiefly our God, they be at whiles nought so bigly
+made as we of the Bears.&nbsp; How this may be, I wot not.&nbsp;
+But if ye be not of the Gods or their kindred, then are ye mere
+aliens; and we know not what to do with aliens, save we meet them
+in battle, or give them to the God, or save we make them children
+of the Bear.&nbsp; But yet again, ye may be messengers of some
+folk who would bind friendship and alliance with us: in which
+case ye shall at the least depart in peace, and whiles ye are
+with us shall be our guests in all good cheer.&nbsp; Now,
+therefore, we bid you declare the matter unto us.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>Then spake the Maid: &ldquo;Father, it were easy for us to
+declare what we be unto you here present.&nbsp; But, meseemeth,
+ye who be gathered round the fire here this evening are less than
+the whole tale of the children of the Bear.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;So it is, Maiden,&rdquo; said the elder, &ldquo;that
+many more children hath the Bear.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;This then we bid you,&rdquo; said the Maid, &ldquo;that
+ye send the tokens round and gather your people to you, and when
+they be assembled in the Doom-ring, then shall we put our errand
+before you; and according to that, shall ye deal with
+us.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Thou hast spoken well,&rdquo; said the elder;
+&ldquo;and even so had we bidden you ourselves.&nbsp; To-morrow,
+before noon, shall ye stand in the Doom-ring in this Dale, and
+speak with the children of the Bear.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>Therewith he turned to his own folk and called out something,
+whereof those twain knew not the meaning; and there came to him,
+one after another, six young men, unto each of whom he gave a
+thing from out his pouch, but what it was Walter might not see,
+save that it was little and of small account: to each, also, he
+spake a word or two, and straight they set off running, one after
+the other, turning toward the bent which was over against that
+whereby the twain had come into the Dale, and were soon out of
+sight in the gathering dusk.</p>
+<p>Then the elder turned him again to Walter and the Maid, and
+spake: &ldquo;Man and woman, whatsoever ye may be, or whatsoever
+may abide you to-morrow, to-night, ye are welcome guests to us;
+so we bid you come eat and drink at our fire.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>So they sat all together upon the grass round about the embers
+of the fire, and ate curds and cheese, and drank milk in
+abundance; and as the night grew on them they quickened the fire,
+that they might have light.&nbsp; This wild folk talked merrily
+amongst themselves, with laughter enough and friendly jests, but
+to the new-comers they were few-spoken, though, as the twain
+deemed, for no enmity that they bore them.&nbsp; But this found
+Walter, that the younger ones, both men and women, seemed to find
+it a hard matter to keep their eyes off them; and seemed, withal,
+to gaze on them with somewhat of doubt, or, it might be, of
+fear.</p>
+<p>So when the night was wearing a little, the elder arose and
+bade the twain to come with him, and led them to a small house or
+booth, which was amidmost of all, and somewhat bigger than the
+others, and he did them to wit that they should rest there that
+night, and bade them sleep in peace and without fear till the
+morrow.&nbsp; So they entered, and found beds thereon of heather
+and ling, and they laid them down sweetly, like brother and
+sister, when they had kissed each other.&nbsp; But they noted
+that four brisk men lay without the booth, and across the door,
+with their weapons beside them, so that they must needs look upon
+themselves as captives.</p>
+<p>Then Walter might not refrain him, but spake: &ldquo;Sweet and
+dear friend, I have come a long way from the quay at Langton, and
+the vision of the Dwarf, the Maid, and the Lady; and for this
+kiss wherewith I have kissed thee e&rsquo;en now, and the
+kindness of thine eyes, it was worth the time and the
+travail.&nbsp; But to-morrow, meseemeth, I shall go no further in
+this world, though my journey be far longer than from Langton
+hither.&nbsp; And now may God and All Hallows keep thee amongst
+this wild folk, whenas I shall be gone from thee.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>She laughed low and sweetly, and said: &ldquo;Dear friend,
+dost thou speak to me thus mournfully to move me to love thee
+better?&nbsp; Then is thy labour lost; for no better may I love
+thee than now I do; and that is with mine whole heart.&nbsp; But
+keep a good courage, I bid thee; for we be not sundered yet, nor
+shall we be.&nbsp; Nor do I deem that we shall die here, or
+to-morrow; but many years hence, after we have known all the
+sweetness of life.&nbsp; Meanwhile, I bid thee good-night, fair
+friend!&rdquo;</p>
+<h2>CHAPTER XXVII: MORNING AMONGST THE BEARS</h2>
+<p>So Walter laid him down and fell asleep, and knew no more till
+he awoke in bright daylight with the Maid standing over
+him.&nbsp; She was fresh from the water, for she had been to the
+river to bathe her, and the sun through the open door fell
+streaming on her feet close to Walter&rsquo;s pillow.&nbsp; He
+turned about and cast his arm about them, and caressed them,
+while she stood smiling upon him; then he arose and looked on
+her, and said: &ldquo;How thou art fair and bright this
+morning!&nbsp; And yet . . . and yet . . . were it not well that
+thou do off thee all this faded and drooping bravery of leaves
+and blossoms, that maketh thee look like to a jongleur&rsquo;s
+damsel on a morrow of May-day?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>And he gazed ruefully on her.</p>
+<p>She laughed on him merrily, and said: &ldquo;Yea, and belike
+these others think no better of my attire, or not much better;
+for yonder they are gathering small wood for the burnt-offering;
+which, forsooth, shall be thou and I, unless I better it all by
+means of the wisdom I learned of the old woman, and perfected
+betwixt the stripes of my Mistress, whom a little while ago thou
+lovedst somewhat.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>And as she spake her eyes sparkled, her cheek flushed, and her
+limbs and her feet seemed as if they could scarce refrain from
+dancing for joy.&nbsp; Then Walter knit his brow, and for a
+moment a thought half-framed was in his mind: Is it so, that she
+will bewray me and live without me? and he cast his eyes on to
+the ground.&nbsp; But she said: &ldquo;Look up, and into mine
+eyes, friend, and see if there be in them any falseness toward
+thee!&nbsp; For I know thy thought; I know thy thought.&nbsp;
+Dost thou not see that my joy and gladness is for the love of
+thee, and the thought of the rest from trouble that is at
+hand?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>He looked up, and his eyes met the eyes of her love, and he
+would have cast his arms about her; but she drew aback and said:
+&ldquo;Nay, thou must refrain thee awhile, dear friend, lest
+these folk cast eyes on us, and deem us over lover-like for what
+I am to bid them deem me.&nbsp; Abide a while, and then shall all
+be in me according to thy will.&nbsp; But now I must tell thee
+that it is not very far from noon, and that the Bears are
+streaming into the Dale, and already there is an host of men at
+the Doom-ring, and, as I said, the bale for the burnt-offering is
+wellnigh dight, whether it be for us, or for some other
+creature.&nbsp; And now I have to bid thee this, and it will be a
+thing easy for thee to do, to wit, that thou look as if thou wert
+of the race of the Gods, and not to blench, or show sign of
+blenching, whatever betide: to yea-say both my yea-say and my
+nay-say: and lastly this, which is the only hard thing for thee
+(but thou hast already done it before somewhat), to look upon me
+with no masterful eyes of love, nor as if thou wert at once
+praying me and commanding me; rather thou shalt so demean thee as
+if thou wert my man all simply, and nowise my master.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;O friend beloved,&rdquo; said Walter, &ldquo;here at
+least art thou the master, and I will do all thy bidding, in
+certain hope of this, that either we shall live together or die
+together.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>But as they spoke, in came the elder, and with him a young
+maiden, bearing with them their breakfast of curds arid cream and
+strawberries, and he bade them eat.&nbsp; So they ate, and were
+not unmerry; and the while of their eating the elder talked with
+them soberly, but not hardly, or with any seeming enmity: and
+ever his talk gat on to the drought, which was now burning up the
+down-pastures; and how the grass in the watered dales, which was
+no wide spread of land, would not hold out much longer unless the
+God sent them rain.&nbsp; And Walter noted that those two, the
+elder and the Maid, eyed each other curiously amidst of this
+talk; the elder intent on what she might say, and if she gave
+heed to his words; while on her side the Maid answered his speech
+graciously and pleasantly, but said little that was of any
+import: nor would she have him fix her eyes, which wandered
+lightly from this thing to that; nor would her lips grow stern
+and stable, but ever smiled in answer to the light of her eyes,
+as she sat there with her face as the very face of the gladness
+of the summer day.</p>
+<h2>CHAPTER XXVIII: OF THE NEW GOD OF THE BEARS</h2>
+<p>At last the old man said: &ldquo;My children, ye shall now
+come with me unto the Doom-ring of our folk, the Bears of the
+Southern Dales, and deliver to them your errand; and I beseech
+you to have pity upon your own bodies, as I have pity on them; on
+thine especially, Maiden, so fair and bright a creature as thou
+art; for so it is, that if ye deal us out light and lying words
+after the manner of dastards, ye shall miss the worship and glory
+of wending away amidst of the flames, a gift to the God and a
+hope to the people, and shall be passed by the rods of the folk,
+until ye faint and fail amongst them, and then shall ye be thrust
+down into the flow at the Dale&rsquo;s End, and a stone-laden
+hurdle cast upon you, that we may thenceforth forget your
+folly.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>The Maid now looked full into his eyes, and Walter deemed that
+the old man shrank before her; but she said: &ldquo;Thou art old
+and wise, O great man of the Bears, yet nought I need to learn of
+thee.&nbsp; Now lead us on our way to the Stead of the
+Errands.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>So the elder brought them along to the Doom-ring at the
+eastern end of the Dale; and it was now all peopled with those
+huge men, weaponed after their fashion, and standing up, so that
+the grey stones thereof but showed a little over their
+heads.&nbsp; But amidmost of the said Ring was a big stone,
+fashioned as a chair, whereon sat a very old man, long-hoary and
+white-bearded, and on either side of him stood a great-limbed
+woman clad in war-gear, holding, each of them, a long spear, and
+with a flint-bladed knife in the girdle; and there were no other
+women in all the Mote.</p>
+<p>Then the elder led those twain into the midst of the Mote, and
+there bade them go up on to a wide, flat-topped stone, six feet
+above the ground, just over against the ancient chieftain; and
+they mounted it by a rough stair, and stood there before that
+folk; Walter in his array of the outward world, which had been
+fair enough, of crimson cloth and silk, and white linen, but was
+now travel-stained and worn; and the Maid with nought upon her,
+save the smock wherein she had fled from the Golden House of the
+Wood beyond the World, decked with the faded flowers which she
+had wreathed about her yesterday.&nbsp; Nevertheless, so it was,
+that those big men eyed her intently, and with somewhat of
+worship.</p>
+<p>Now did Walter, according to her bidding, sink down on his
+knees beside her, and drawing his sword, hold it before him, as
+if to keep all interlopers aloof from the Maid.&nbsp; And there
+was silence in the Mote, and all eyes were fixed on those
+twain.</p>
+<p>At last the old chief arose and spake: &ldquo;Ye men, here are
+come a man and a woman, we know not whence; whereas they have
+given word to our folk who first met them, that they would tell
+their errand to none save the Mote of the People; which it was
+their due to do, if they were minded to risk it.&nbsp; For either
+they be aliens without an errand hither, save, it may be, to
+beguile us, in which case they shall presently die an evil death;
+or they have come amongst us that we may give them to the God
+with flint-edge and fire; or they have a message to us from some
+folk or other, on the issue of which lieth life or death.&nbsp;
+Now shall ye hear what they have to say concerning themselves and
+their faring hither.&nbsp; But, meseemeth, it shall be the woman
+who is the chief and hath the word in her mouth; for, lo you! the
+man kneeleth at her feet, as one who would serve and worship
+her.&nbsp; Speak out then, woman, and let our warriors hear
+thee.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>Then the Maid lifted up her voice, and spake out clear and
+shrilling, like to a flute of the best of the minstrels:
+&ldquo;Ye men of the Children of the Bear, I would ask you a
+question, and let the chieftain who sitteth before me answer
+it.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>The old man nodded his head, and she went on: &ldquo;Tell me,
+Children of the Bear, how long a time is worn since ye saw the
+God of your worship made manifest in the body of a
+woman!&rdquo;</p>
+<p>Said the elder: &ldquo;Many winters have worn since my
+father&rsquo;s father was a child, and saw the very God in the
+bodily form of a woman.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>Then she said again: &ldquo;Did ye rejoice at her coming, and
+would ye rejoice if once more she came amongst you?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Yea,&rdquo; said the old chieftain, &ldquo;for she gave
+us gifts, and learned us lore, and came to us in no terrible
+shape, but as a young woman as goodly as thou.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>Then said the Maid: &ldquo;Now, then, is the day of your
+gladness come; for the old body is dead, and I am the new body of
+your God, come amongst you for your welfare.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>Then fell a great silence on the Mote, till the old man spake
+and said: &ldquo;What shall I say and live?&nbsp; For if thou be
+verily the God, and I threaten thee, wilt thou not destroy
+me?&nbsp; But thou hast spoken a great word with a sweet mouth,
+and hast taken the burden of blood on thy lily hands; and if the
+Children of the Bear be befooled of light liars, how shall they
+put the shame off them?&nbsp; Therefore I say, show to us a
+token; and if thou be the God, this shall be easy to thee; and if
+thou show it not, then is thy falsehood manifest, and thou shalt
+dree the weird.&nbsp; For we shall deliver thee into the hands of
+these women here, who shall thrust thee down into the flow which
+is hereby, after they have wearied themselves with whipping
+thee.&nbsp; But thy man that kneeleth at thy feet shall we give
+to the true God, and he shall go to her by the road of the flint
+and the fire.&nbsp; Hast thou heard?&nbsp; Then give to us the
+sign and the token.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>She changed countenance no whit at his word; but her eyes were
+the brighter, and her cheek the fresher and her feet moved a
+little, as if they were growing glad before the dance; and she
+looked out over the Mote, and spake in her clear voice:
+&ldquo;Old man, thou needest not to fear for thy words.&nbsp;
+Forsooth it is not me whom thou threatenest with stripes and a
+foul death, but some light fool and liar, who is not here.&nbsp;
+Now hearken!&nbsp; I wot well that ye would have somewhat of me,
+to wit, that I should send you rain to end this drought, which
+otherwise seemeth like to lie long upon you: but this rain, I
+must go into the mountains of the south to fetch it you;
+therefore shall certain of your warriors bring me on my way, with
+this my man, up to the great pass of the said mountains, and we
+shall set out thitherward this very day.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>She was silent a while, and all looked on her, but none spake
+or moved, so that they seemed as images of stone amongst the
+stones.</p>
+<p>Then she spake again and said: &ldquo;Some would say, men of
+the Bear, that this were a sign and a token great enough; but I
+know you, and how stubborn and perverse of heart ye be; and how
+that the gift not yet within your hand is no gift to you; and the
+wonder ye see not, your hearts trow not.&nbsp; Therefore look ye
+upon me as here I stand, I who have come from the fairer country
+and the greenwood of the lands, and see if I bear not the summer
+with me, and the heart that maketh increase and the hand that
+giveth.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>Lo then! as she spake, the faded flowers that hung about her
+gathered life and grew fresh again; the woodbine round her neck
+and her sleek shoulders knit itself together and embraced her
+freshly, and cast its scent about her face.&nbsp; The lilies that
+girded her loins lifted up their heads, and the gold of their
+tassels fell upon her; the eyebright grew clean blue again upon
+her smock; the eglantine found its blooms again, and then began
+to shed the leaves thereof upon her feet; the meadow-sweet
+wreathed amongst it made clear the sweetness of her legs, and the
+mouse-ear studded her raiment as with gems.&nbsp; There she stood
+amidst of the blossoms, like a great orient pearl against the
+fretwork of the goldsmiths, and the breeze that came up the
+valley from behind bore the sweetness of her fragrance all over
+the Man-mote.</p>
+<p>Then, indeed, the Bears stood up, and shouted and cried, and
+smote on their shields, and tossed their spears aloft.&nbsp; Then
+the elder rose from his seat, and came up humbly to where she
+stood, and prayed her to say what she would have done; while the
+others drew about in knots, but durst not come very nigh to
+her.&nbsp; She answered the ancient chief, and said, that she
+would depart presently toward the mountains, whereby she might
+send them the rain which they lacked, and that thence she would
+away to the southward for a while; but that they should hear of
+her, or, it might be, see her, before they who were now of middle
+age should be gone to their fathers.</p>
+<p>Then the old man besought her that they might make her a
+litter of fragrant green boughs, and so bear her away toward the
+mountain pass amidst a triumph of the whole folk.&nbsp; But she
+leapt lightly down from the stone, and walked to and fro on the
+greensward, while it seemed of her that her feet scarce touched
+the grass; and she spake to the ancient chief where he still
+kneeled in worship of her, and said &ldquo;Nay; deemest thou of
+me that I need bearing by men&rsquo;s hands, or that I shall tire
+at all when I am doing my will, and I, the very heart of the
+year&rsquo;s increase?&nbsp; So it is, that the going of my feet
+over your pastures shall make them to thrive, both this year and
+the coming years: surely will I go afoot.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>So they worshipped her the more, and blessed her; and then
+first of all they brought meat, the daintiest they might, both
+for her and for Walter.&nbsp; But they would not look on the Maid
+whiles she ate, or suffer Walter to behold her the while.&nbsp;
+Afterwards, when they had eaten, some twenty men, weaponed after
+their fashion, made them ready to wend with the Maiden up into
+the mountains, and anon they set out thitherward all
+together.&nbsp; Howbeit, the huge men held them ever somewhat
+aloof from the Maid; and when they came to the resting-place for
+that night, where was no house, for it was up amongst the
+foot-hills before the mountains, then it was a wonder to see how
+carefully they built up a sleeping-place for her, and tilted it
+over with their skin-cloaks, and how they watched nightlong about
+her.&nbsp; But Walter they let sleep peacefully on the grass, a
+little way aloof from the watchers round the Maid.</p>
+<h2>CHAPTER XXIX: WALTER STRAYS IN THE PASS AND IS SUNDERED FROM
+THE MAID</h2>
+<p>Morning came, and they arose and went on their ways, and went
+all day till the sun was nigh set, and they were come up into the
+very pass; and in the jaws thereof was an earthen howe.&nbsp;
+There the Maid bade them stay, and she went up on to the howe,
+and stood there and spake to them, and said: &ldquo;O men of the
+Bear, I give you thanks for your following, and I bless you, and
+promise you the increase of the earth.&nbsp; But now ye shall
+turn aback, and leave me to go my ways; and my man with the iron
+sword shall follow me.&nbsp; Now, maybe, I shall come amongst the
+Bear-folk again before long, and yet again, and learn them
+wisdom; but for this time it is enough.&nbsp; And I shall tell
+you that ye were best to hasten home straightway to your houses
+in the downland dales, for the weather which I have bidden for
+you is even now coming forth from the forge of storms in the
+heart of the mountains.&nbsp; Now this last word I give you, that
+times are changed since I wore the last shape of God that ye have
+seen, wherefore a change I command you.&nbsp; If so be aliens
+come amongst you, I will not that ye send them to me by the flint
+and the fire; rather, unless they be baleful unto you, and worthy
+of an evil death, ye shall suffer them to abide with you; ye
+shall make them become children of the Bears, if they be goodly
+enough and worthy, and they shall be my children as ye be;
+otherwise, if they be ill-favoured and weakling, let them live
+and be thralls to you, but not join with you, man to woman.&nbsp;
+Now depart ye with my blessing.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>Therewith she came down from the mound, and went her ways up
+the pass so lightly, that it was to Walter, standing amongst the
+Bears, as if she had vanished away.&nbsp; But the men of that
+folk abode standing and worshipping their God for a little while,
+and that while he durst not sunder him from their company.&nbsp;
+But when they had blessed him and gone on their way backward, he
+betook him in haste to following the Maid, thinking to find her
+abiding him in some nook of the pass.</p>
+<p>Howsoever, it was now twilight or more, and, for all his
+haste, dark night overtook him, so that perforce he was stayed
+amidst the tangle of the mountain ways.&nbsp; And, moreover, ere
+the night was grown old, the weather came upon him on the back of
+a great south wind, so that the mountain nooks rattled and
+roared, and there was the rain and the hail, with thunder and
+lightning, monstrous and terrible, and all the huge array of a
+summer storm.&nbsp; So he was driven at last to crouch under a
+big rock and abide the day.</p>
+<p>But not so were his troubles at an end.&nbsp; For under the
+said rock he fell asleep, and when he awoke it was day indeed;
+but as to the pass, the way thereby was blind with the driving
+rain and the lowering lift; so that, though he struggled as well
+as he might against the storm and the tangle, he made but little
+way.</p>
+<p>And now once more the thought came on him, that the Maid was
+of the fays, or of some race even mightier; and it came on him
+now not as erst, with half fear and whole desire, but with a
+bitter oppression of dread, of loss and misery; so that he began
+to fear that she had but won his love to leave him and forget him
+for a new-comer, after the wont of fay-women, as old tales
+tell.</p>
+<p>Two days he battled thus with storm and blindness, and wanhope
+of his life; for he was growing weak and fordone.&nbsp; But the
+third morning the storm abated, though the rain yet fell heavily,
+and he could see his way somewhat as well as feel it: withal he
+found that now his path was leading him downwards.&nbsp; As it
+grew dusk, he came down into a grassy valley with a stream
+running through it to the southward, and the rain was now but
+little, coming down but in dashes from time to time.&nbsp; So he
+crept down to the stream-side, and lay amongst the bushes there;
+and said to himself, that on the morrow he would get him victual,
+so that he might live to seek his Maiden through the wide
+world.&nbsp; He was of somewhat better heart: but now that he was
+laid quiet, and had no more for that present to trouble him about
+the way, the anguish of his loss fell upon him the keener, and he
+might not refrain him from lamenting his dear Maiden aloud, as
+one who deemed himself in the empty wilderness: and thus he
+lamented for her sweetness and her loveliness, and the kindness
+of her voice and her speech, and her mirth.&nbsp; Then he fell to
+crying out concerning the beauty of her shaping, praising the
+parts of her body, as her face, and her hands, and her shoulders,
+and her feet, and cursing the evil fate which had sundered him
+from the friendliness of her, and the peerless fashion of
+her.</p>
+<h2>CHAPTER XXX: NOW THEY MEET AGAIN</h2>
+<p>Complaining thus-wise, he fell asleep from sheer weariness,
+and when he awoke it was broad day, calm and bright and
+cloudless, with the scent of the earth refreshed going up into
+the heavens, and the birds singing sweetly in the bushes about
+him: for the dale whereunto he was now come was a fair and lovely
+place amidst the shelving slopes of the mountains, a paradise of
+the wilderness, and nought but pleasant and sweet things were to
+be seen there, now that the morn was so clear and sunny.</p>
+<p>He arose and looked about him, and saw where, a hundred yards
+aloof, was a thicket of small wood, as thorn and elder and
+whitebeam, all wreathed about with the bines of wayfaring tree;
+it hid a bight of the stream, which turned round about it, and
+betwixt it and Walter was the grass short and thick, and sweet,
+and all beset with flowers; and he said to himself that it was
+even such a place as wherein the angels were leading the Blessed
+in the great painted paradise in the choir of the big church at
+Langton on Holm.&nbsp; But lo! as he looked he cried aloud for
+joy, for forth from the thicket on to the flowery grass came one
+like to an angel from out of the said picture, white-clad and
+bare-foot, sweet of flesh, with bright eyes and ruddy cheeks; for
+it was the Maid herself.&nbsp; So he ran to her, and she abode
+him, holding forth kind hands to him, and smiling, while she wept
+for joy of the meeting.&nbsp; He threw himself upon her, and
+spared not to kiss her, her cheeks and her mouth, and her arms
+and her shoulders, and wheresoever she would suffer it.&nbsp;
+Till at last she drew aback a little, laughing on him for love,
+and said: &ldquo;Forbear now, friend, for it is enough for this
+time, and tell me how thou hast sped.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Ill, ill,&rdquo; said he.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;What ails thee?&rdquo; she said.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Hunger,&rdquo; he said, &ldquo;and longing for
+thee.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Well,&rdquo; she said, &ldquo;me thou hast; there is
+one ill quenched; take my hand, and we will see to the other
+one.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>So he took her hand, and to hold it seemed to him sweet beyond
+measure.&nbsp; But he looked up, and saw a little blue smoke
+going up into the air from beyond the thicket; and he laughed,
+for he was weak with hunger, and he said: &ldquo;Who is at the
+cooking yonder?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Thou shalt see,&rdquo; she said; and led him therewith
+into the said thicket and through it, and lo! a fair little
+grassy place, full of flowers, betwixt the bushes and the bight
+of the stream; and on the little sandy ere, just off the
+greensward, was a fire of sticks, and beside it two trouts lying,
+fat and red-flecked.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Here is the breakfast,&rdquo; said she; &ldquo;when it
+was time to wash the night off me e&rsquo;en now, I went down the
+strand here into the rippling shallow, and saw the bank below it,
+where the water draws together yonder, and deepens, that it
+seemed like to hold fish; and whereas I looked to meet thee
+presently, I groped the bank for them, going softly; and lo
+thou!&nbsp; Help me now, that we cook them.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>So they roasted them on the red embers, and fell to and ate
+well, both of them, and drank of the water of the stream out of
+each other&rsquo;s hollow hands; and that feast seemed glorious
+to them, such gladness went with it.</p>
+<p>But when they were done with their meat, Walter said to the
+Maid: &ldquo;And how didst thou know that thou shouldst see me
+presently?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>She said, looking on him wistfully: &ldquo;This needed no
+wizardry.&nbsp; I lay not so far from thee last night, but that I
+heard thy voice and knew it.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>Said he, &ldquo;Why didst thou not come to me then, since thou
+heardest me bemoaning thee?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>She cast her eyes down, and plucked at the flowers and grass,
+and said: &ldquo;It was dear to hear thee praising me; I knew not
+before that I was so sore desired, or that thou hadst taken such
+note of my body, and found it so dear.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>Then she reddened sorely, and said: &ldquo;I knew not that
+aught of me had such beauty as thou didst bewail.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>And she wept for joy.&nbsp; Then she looked on him and smiled,
+and said: &ldquo;Wilt thou have the very truth of it?&nbsp; I
+went close up to thee, and stood there hidden by the bushes and
+the night.&nbsp; And amidst thy bewailing, I knew that thou
+wouldst soon fall asleep, and in sooth I out-waked
+thee.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>Then was she silent again; and he spake not, but looked on her
+shyly; and she said, reddening yet more: &ldquo;Furthermore, I
+must needs tell thee that I feared to go to thee in the dark
+night, and my heart so yearning towards thee.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>And she hung her head adown; but he said: &ldquo;Is it so
+indeed, that thou fearest me?&nbsp; Then doth that make me
+afraid&mdash;afraid of thy nay-say.&nbsp; For I was going to
+entreat thee, and say to thee: Beloved, we have now gone through
+many troubles; let us now take a good reward at once, and wed
+together, here amidst this sweet and pleasant house of the
+mountains, ere we go further on our way; if indeed we go further
+at all.&nbsp; For where shall we find any place sweeter or
+happier than this?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>But she sprang up to her feet, and stood there trembling
+before him, because of her love; and she said: &ldquo;Beloved, I
+have deemed that it were good for us to go seek mankind as they
+live in the world, and to live amongst them.&nbsp; And as for me,
+I will tell thee the sooth, to wit, that I long for this
+sorely.&nbsp; For I feel afraid in the wilderness, and as if I
+needed help and protection against my Mistress, though she be
+dead; and I need the comfort of many people, and the throngs of
+the cities.&nbsp; I cannot forget her: it was but last night that
+I dreamed (I suppose as the dawn grew a-cold) that I was yet
+under her hand, and she was stripping me for the torment; so that
+I woke up panting and crying out.&nbsp; I pray thee be not angry
+with me for telling thee of my desires; for if thou wouldst not
+have it so, then here will I abide with thee as thy mate, and
+strive to gather courage.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>He rose up and kissed her face, and said: &ldquo;Nay, I had in
+sooth no mind to abide here for ever; I meant but that we should
+feast a while here, and then depart: sooth it is, that if thou
+dreadest the wilderness, somewhat I dread the city.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>She turned pale, and said: &ldquo;Thou shalt have thy will, my
+friend, if it must be so.&nbsp; But bethink thee we be not yet at
+our journey&rsquo;s end, and may have many things and much strife
+to endure, before we be at peace and in welfare.&nbsp; Now shall
+I tell thee&mdash;did I not before?&mdash;that while I am a maid
+untouched, my wisdom, and somedeal of might, abideth with me, and
+only so long.&nbsp; Therefore I entreat thee, let us go now, side
+by side, out of this fair valley, even as we are, so that my
+wisdom and might may help thee at need.&nbsp; For, my friend, I
+would not that our lives be short, so much of joy as hath now
+come into them.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Yea, beloved,&rdquo; he said, &ldquo;let us on
+straightway then, and shorten the while that sundereth
+us.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Love,&rdquo; she said, &ldquo;thou shalt pardon me one
+time for all.&nbsp; But this is to be said, that I know somewhat
+of the haps that lie a little way ahead of us; partly by my lore,
+and partly by what I learned of this land of the wild folk whiles
+thou wert lying asleep that morning.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>So they left that pleasant place by the water, and came into
+the open valley, and went their ways through the pass; and it
+soon became stony again, as they mounted the bent which went up
+from out the dale.&nbsp; And when they came to the brow of the
+said bent, they had a sight of the open country lying fair and
+joyous in the sunshine, and amidst of it, against the blue hills,
+the walls and towers of a great city.</p>
+<p>Then said the Maid: &ldquo;O, dear friend, lo you! is not that
+our abode that lieth yonder, and is so beauteous?&nbsp; Dwell not
+our friends there, and our protection against uncouth wights, and
+mere evil things in guileful shapes?&nbsp; O city, I bid thee
+hail!&rdquo;</p>
+<p>But Walter looked on her, and smiled somewhat; and said:
+&ldquo;I rejoice in thy joy.&nbsp; But there be evil things in
+yonder city also, though they be not fays nor devils, or it is
+like to no city that I wot of.&nbsp; And in every city shall foes
+grow up to us without rhyme or reason, and life therein shall be
+tangled unto us.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Yea,&rdquo; she said; &ldquo;but in the wilderness
+amongst the devils, what was to be done by manly might or
+valiancy?&nbsp; There hadst thou to fall back upon the guile and
+wizardry which I had filched from my very foes.&nbsp; But when we
+come down yonder, then shall thy valiancy prevail to cleave the
+tangle for us.&nbsp; Or at the least, it shall leave a tale of
+thee behind, and I shall worship thee.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>He laughed, and his face grew brighter: &ldquo;Mastery mows
+the meadow,&rdquo; quoth he, &ldquo;and one man is of little
+might against many.&nbsp; But I promise thee I shall not be
+slothful before thee.&rdquo;</p>
+<h2>CHAPTER XXXI: THEY COME UPON NEW FOLK</h2>
+<p>With that they went down from the bent again, and came to
+where the pass narrowed so much, that they went betwixt a steep
+wall of rock on either side; but after an hour&rsquo;s going, the
+said wall gave back suddenly, and, or they were ware almost, they
+came on another dale like to that which they had left, but not so
+fair, though it was grassy and well watered, and not so big
+either.&nbsp; But here indeed befell a change to them; for lo!
+tents and pavilions pitched in the said valley, and amidst of it
+a throng of men, mostly weaponed, and with horses ready saddled
+at hand.&nbsp; So they stayed their feet, and Walter&rsquo;s
+heart failed him, for he said to himself: Who wotteth what these
+men may be, save that they be aliens?&nbsp; It is most like that
+we shall be taken as thralls; and then, at the best, we shall be
+sundered; and that is all one with the worst.</p>
+<p>But the Maid, when she saw the horses, and the gay tents, and
+the pennons fluttering, and the glitter of spears, and gleaming
+of white armour, smote her palms together for joy, and cried out:
+&ldquo;Here now are come the folk of the city for our welcoming,
+and fair and lovely are they, and of many things shall they be
+thinking, and a many things shall they do, and we shall be
+partakers thereof.&nbsp; Come then, and let us meet them, fair
+friend!&rdquo;</p>
+<p>But Walter said: &ldquo;Alas! thou knowest not: would that we
+might flee!&nbsp; But now is it over late; so put we a good face
+on it, and go to them quietly, as erewhile we did in the
+Bear-country.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>So did they; and there sundered six from the men-at-arms and
+came to those twain, and made humble obeisance to Walter, but
+spake no word.&nbsp; Then they made as they would lead them to
+the others, and the twain went with them wondering, and came into
+the ring of men-at-arms, and stood before an old hoar knight,
+armed all, save his head, with most goodly armour, and he also
+bowed before Walter, but spake no word.&nbsp; Then they took them
+to the master pavilion, and made signs to them to sit, and they
+brought them dainty meat and good wine.&nbsp; And the while of
+their eating arose up a stir about them; and when they were done
+with their meat, the ancient knight came to them, still bowing in
+courteous wise, and did them to wit by signs that they should
+depart: and when they were without, they saw all the other tents
+struck, and men beginning to busy them with striking the
+pavilion, and the others mounted and ranked in good order for the
+road; and there were two horse-litters before them, wherein they
+were bidden to mount, Walter in one, and the Maid in the other,
+and no otherwise might they do.&nbsp; Then presently was a horn
+blown, and all took to the road together; and Walter saw betwixt
+the curtains of the litter that men-at-arms rode on either side
+of him, albeit they had left him his sword by his side.</p>
+<p>So they went down the mountain-passes, and before sunset were
+gotten into the plain; but they made no stay for nightfall, save
+to eat a morsel and drink a draught, going through the night as
+men who knew their way well.&nbsp; As they went, Walter wondered
+what would betide, and if peradventure they also would be for
+offering them up to their Gods; whereas they were aliens for
+certain, and belike also Saracens.&nbsp; Moreover there was a
+cold fear at his heart that he should be sundered from the Maid,
+whereas their masters now were mighty men of war, holding in
+their hands that which all men desire, to wit, the manifest
+beauty of a woman.&nbsp; Yet he strove to think the best of it
+that he might.&nbsp; And so at last, when the night was far
+spent, and dawn was at hand, they stayed at a great and mighty
+gate in a huge wall.&nbsp; There they blew loudly on the horn
+thrice, and thereafter the gates were opened, and they all passed
+through into a street, which seemed to Walter in the glimmer to
+be both great and goodly amongst the abodes of men.&nbsp; Then it
+was but a little ere they came into a square, wide-spreading, one
+side whereof Walter took to be the front of a most goodly
+house.&nbsp; There the doors of the court opened to them or ever
+the horn might blow, though, forsooth, blow it did loudly three
+times; all they entered therein, and men came to Walter and
+signed to him to alight.&nbsp; So did he, and would have tarried
+to look about for the Maid, but they suffered it not, but led him
+up a huge stair into a chamber, very great, and but dimly lighted
+because of its greatness.&nbsp; Then they brought him to a bed
+dight as fair as might be, and made signs to him to strip and lie
+therein.&nbsp; Perforce he did so, and then they bore away his
+raiment, and left him lying there.&nbsp; So he lay there quietly,
+deeming it no avail for him, a mother-naked man, to seek escape
+thence; but it was long ere he might sleep, because of his
+trouble of mind.&nbsp; At last, pure weariness got the better of
+his hopes and fears, and he fell into slumber just as the dawn
+was passing into day.</p>
+<h2>CHAPTER XXXII: OF THE NEW KING OF THE CITY AND LAND OF
+STARK-WALL</h2>
+<p>When he awoke again the sun was shining brightly into that
+chamber, and he looked, and beheld that it was peerless of beauty
+and riches, amongst all that he had ever seen: the ceiling done
+with gold and over-sea blue; the walls hung with arras of the
+fairest, though he might not tell what was the history done
+therein.&nbsp; The chairs and stools were of carven work well
+be-painted, and amidmost was a great ivory chair under a cloth of
+estate, of bawdekin of gold and green, much be-pearled; and all
+the floor was of fine work alexandrine.</p>
+<p>He looked on all this, wondering what had befallen him, when
+lo! there came folk into the chamber, to wit, two serving-men
+well-bedight, and three old men clad in rich gowns of silk.&nbsp;
+These came to him and (still by signs, without speech) bade him
+arise and come with them; and when he bade them look to it that
+he was naked, and laughed doubtfully, they neither laughed in
+answer, nor offered him any raiment, but still would have him
+arise, and he did so perforce.&nbsp; They brought him with them
+out of the chamber, and through certain passages pillared and
+goodly, till they came to a bath as fair as any might be; and
+there the serving-men washed him carefully and tenderly, the old
+men looking on the while.&nbsp; When it was done, still they
+offered not to clothe him, but led him out, and through the
+passages again, back to the chamber.&nbsp; Only this time he must
+pass between a double hedge of men, some weaponed, some in
+peaceful array, but all clad gloriously, and full chieftain-like
+of aspect, either for valiancy or wisdom.</p>
+<p>In the chamber itself was now a concourse of men, of great
+estate by deeming of their array; but all these were standing
+orderly in a ring about the ivory chair aforesaid.&nbsp; Now said
+Walter to himself: Surely all this looks toward the knife and the
+altar for me; but he kept a stout countenance despite of all.</p>
+<p>So they led him up to the ivory chair, and he beheld on either
+side thereof a bench, and on each was laid a set of raiment from
+the shirt upwards; but there was much diversity betwixt these
+arrays.&nbsp; For one was all of robes of peace, glorious and
+be-gemmed, unmeet for any save a great king; while the other was
+war-weed, seemly, well-fashioned, but little adorned; nay rather,
+worn and bestained with weather, and the pelting of the
+spear-storm.</p>
+<p>Now those old men signed to Walter to take which of those
+raiments he would, and do it on.&nbsp; He looked to the right and
+the left, and when he had looked on the war-gear, the heart arose
+in him, and he called to mind the array of the Goldings in the
+forefront of battle, and he made one step toward the weapons, and
+laid his hand thereon.&nbsp; Then ran a glad murmur through that
+concourse, and the old men drew up to him smiling and joyous, and
+helped him to do them on; and as he took up the helm, he noted
+that over its broad brown iron sat a golden crown.</p>
+<p>So when he was clad and weaponed, girt with a sword, and a
+steel axe in his hand, the elders showed him to the ivory throne,
+and he laid the axe on the arm of the chair, and drew forth the
+sword from the scabbard, and sat him down, and laid the ancient
+blade across his knees; then he looked about on those great men,
+and spake: &ldquo;How long shall we speak no word to each other,
+or is it so that God hath stricken you dumb?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>Then all they cried out with one voice: &ldquo;All hail to the
+King, the King of Battle!&rdquo;</p>
+<p>Spake Walter: &ldquo;If I be king, will ye do my will as I bid
+you?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>Answered the elder: &ldquo;Nought have we will to do, lord,
+save as thou biddest.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>Said Walter: &ldquo;Thou then, wilt thou answer a question in
+all truth?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Yea, lord,&rdquo; said the elder, &ldquo;if I may live
+afterward.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>Then said Walter: &ldquo;The woman that came with me into your
+Camp of the Mountain, what hath befallen her?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>The elder answered: &ldquo;Nought hath befallen her, either of
+good or evil, save that she hath slept and eaten and bathed
+her.&nbsp; What, then, is the King&rsquo;s pleasure concerning
+her?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;That ye bring her hither to me straightway,&rdquo; said
+Walter.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Yea,&rdquo; said the elder; &ldquo;and in what guise
+shall we bring her hither? shall she be arrayed as a servant, or
+a great lady?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>Then Walter pondered a while, and spake at last: &ldquo;Ask
+her what is her will herein, and as she will have it, so let it
+be.&nbsp; But set ye another chair beside mine, and lead her
+thereto.&nbsp; Thou wise old man, send one or two to bring her in
+hither, but abide thou, for I have a question or two to ask of
+thee yet.&nbsp; And ye, lords, abide here the coming of my
+she-fellow, if it weary you not.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>So the elder spake to three of the most honourable of the
+lords, and they went their ways to bring in the Maid.</p>
+<h2>CHAPTER XXXIII: CONCERNING THE FASHION OF KING-MAKING IN
+STARK-WALL</h2>
+<p>Meanwhile the King spake to the elder, and said: &ldquo;Now
+tell me whereof I am become king, and what is the fashion and
+cause of the king-making; for wondrous it is to me, whereas I am
+but an alien amidst of mighty men.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Lord,&rdquo; said the old man, &ldquo;thou art become
+king of a mighty city, which hath under it many other cities and
+wide lands, and havens by the sea-side, and which lacketh no
+wealth which men desire.&nbsp; Many wise men dwell therein, and
+of fools not more than in other lands.&nbsp; A valiant host shall
+follow thee to battle when needs must thou wend afield; an host
+not to be withstood, save by the ancient God-folk, if any of them
+were left upon the earth, as belike none are.&nbsp; And as to the
+name of our said city, it hight the City of the Stark-wall, or
+more shortly, Stark-wall.&nbsp; Now as to the fashion of our
+king-making: If our king dieth and leaveth an heir male, begotten
+of his body, then is he king after him; but if he die and leave
+no heir, then send we out a great lord, with knights and
+sergeants, to that pass of the mountain whereto ye came
+yesterday; and the first man that cometh unto them, they take and
+lead to the city, as they did with thee, lord.&nbsp; For we
+believe and trow that of old time our forefathers came down from
+the mountains by that same pass, poor and rude, but full of
+valiancy, before they conquered these lands, and builded the
+Stark-wall.&nbsp; But now furthermore, when we have gotten the
+said wanderer, and brought him home to our city, we behold him
+mother-naked, all the great men of us, both sages and warriors;
+then if we find him ill-fashioned and counterfeit of his body, we
+roll him in a great carpet till he dies; or whiles, if he be but
+a simple man, and without guile, we deliver him for thrall to
+some artificer amongst us, as a shoemaker, a wright, or what not,
+and so forget him.&nbsp; But in either case we make as if no such
+man had come to us, and we send again the lord and his knights to
+watch the pass; for we say that such an one the Fathers of old
+time have not sent us.&nbsp; But again, when we have seen to the
+new-comer that he is well-fashioned of his body, all is not done;
+for we deem that never would the Fathers send us a dolt or a
+craven to be our king.&nbsp; Therefore we bid the naked one take
+to him which he will of these raiments, either the ancient
+armour, which now thou bearest, lord, or this golden raiment
+here; and if he take the war-gear, as thou takedst it, King, it
+is well; but if he take the raiment of peace, then hath he the
+choice either to be thrall of some goodman of the city, or to be
+proven how wise he may be, and so fare the narrow edge betwixt
+death and kingship; for if he fall short of his wisdom, then
+shall he die the death.&nbsp; Thus is thy question answered,
+King, and praise be to the Fathers that they have sent us one
+whom none may doubt, either for wisdom or valiancy.&rdquo;</p>
+<h2>CHAPTER XXXIV: NOW COMETH THE MAID TO THE KING</h2>
+<p>Then all they bowed before the King, and he spake again:
+&ldquo;What is that noise that I hear without, as if it were the
+rising of the sea on a sandy shore, when the south-west wind is
+blowing.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>Then the elder opened his mouth to answer; but before he might
+get out the word, there was a stir without the chamber door, and
+the throng parted, and lo! amidst of them came the Maid, and she
+yet clad in nought save the white coat wherewith she had won
+through the wilderness, save that on her head was a garland of
+red roses, and her middle was wreathed with the same.&nbsp; Fresh
+and fair she was as the dawn of June; her face bright,
+red-lipped, and clear-eyed, and her cheeks flushed with hope and
+love.&nbsp; She went straight to Walter where he sat, and lightly
+put away with her hand the elder who would lead her to the ivory
+throne beside the King; but she knelt down before him, and laid
+her hand on his steel-clad knee, and said: &ldquo;O my lord, now
+I see that thou hast beguiled me, and that thou wert all along a
+king-born man coming home to thy realm.&nbsp; But so dear thou
+hast been to me; and so fair and clear, and so kind withal do
+thine eyes shine on me from under the grey war-helm, that I will
+beseech thee not to cast me out utterly, but suffer me to be thy
+servant and handmaid for a while.&nbsp; Wilt thou not?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>But the King stooped down to her and raised her up, and stood
+on his feet, and took her hands and kissed them, and set her down
+beside him, and said to her: &ldquo;Sweetheart, this is now thy
+place till the night cometh, even by my side.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>So she sat down there meek and valiant, her hands laid in her
+lap, and her feet one over the other; while the King said:
+&ldquo;Lords, this is my beloved, and my spouse.&nbsp; Now,
+therefore, if ye will have me for King, ye must worship this one
+for Queen and Lady; or else suffer us both to go our ways in
+peace.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>Then all they that were in the chamber cried out aloud:
+&ldquo;The Queen, the Lady!&nbsp; The beloved of our
+lord!&rdquo;</p>
+<p>And this cry came from their hearts, and not their lips only;
+for as they looked on her, and the brightness of her beauty, they
+saw also the meekness of her demeanour, and the high heart of
+her, and they all fell to loving her.&nbsp; But the young men of
+them, their cheeks flushed as they beheld her, and their hearts
+went out to her, and they drew their swords and brandished them
+aloft, and cried out for her as men made suddenly drunk with
+love: &ldquo;The Queen, the Lady, the lovely one!&rdquo;</p>
+<h2>CHAPTER XXXV: OF THE KING OF STARK-WALL AND HIS QUEEN</h2>
+<p>But while this betid, that murmur without, which is aforesaid,
+grew louder; and it smote on the King&rsquo;s ear, and he said
+again to the elder: &ldquo;Tell us now of that noise withoutward,
+what is it?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>Said the elder: &ldquo;If thou, King, and the Queen, wilt but
+arise and stand in the window, and go forth into the hanging
+gallery thereof, then shall ye know at once what is this rumour,
+and therewithal shall ye see a sight meet to rejoice the heart of
+a king new come into kingship.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>So the King arose and took the Maid by the hand, and went to
+the window and looked forth; and lo! the great square of the
+place all thronged with folk as thick as they could stand, and
+the more part of the carles with a weapon in hand, and many armed
+right gallantly.&nbsp; Then he went out into the gallery with his
+Queen, still holding her hand, and his lords and wise men stood
+behind him.&nbsp; Straightway then arose a cry, and a shout of
+joy and welcome that rent the very heavens, and the great place
+was all glittering and strange with the tossing up of spears and
+the brandishing of swords, and the stretching forth of hands.</p>
+<p>But the Maid spake softly to King Walter and said: &ldquo;Here
+then is the wilderness left behind a long way, and here is
+warding and protection against the foes of our life and
+soul.&nbsp; O blessed be thou and thy valiant heart!&rdquo;</p>
+<p>But Walter spake nothing, but stood as one in a dream; and
+yet, if that might be, his longing toward her increased
+manifold.</p>
+<p>But down below, amidst of the throng, stood two neighbours
+somewhat anigh to the window; and quoth one to the other:
+&ldquo;See thou! the new man in the ancient armour of the Battle
+of the Waters, bearing the sword that slew the foeman king on the
+Day of the Doubtful Onset!&nbsp; Surely this is a sign of
+good-luck to us all.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Yea,&rdquo; said the second, &ldquo;he beareth his
+armour well, and the eyes are bright in the head of him: but hast
+thou beheld well his she-fellow, and what the like of her
+is?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;I see her,&rdquo; said the other, &ldquo;that she is a
+fair woman; yet somewhat worse clad than simply.&nbsp; She is in
+her smock, man, and were it not for the balusters I deem ye
+should see her barefoot.&nbsp; What is amiss with her?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Dost thou not see her,&rdquo; said the second
+neighbour, &ldquo;that she is not only a fair woman, but yet
+more, one of those lovely ones that draw the heart out of a
+man&rsquo;s body, one may scarce say for why?&nbsp; Surely
+Stark-wall hath cast a lucky net this time.&nbsp; And as to her
+raiment, I see of her that she is clad in white and wreathed with
+roses, but that the flesh of her is so wholly pure and sweet that
+it maketh all her attire but a part of her body, and halloweth
+it, so that it hath the semblance of gems.&nbsp; Alas, my friend!
+let us hope that this Queen will fare abroad unseldom amongst the
+people.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>Thus, then, they spake; but after a while the King and his
+mate went back into the chamber, and he gave command that the
+women of the Queen should come and fetch her away, to attire her
+in royal array.&nbsp; And thither came the fairest of the
+honourable damsels, and were fain of being her
+waiting-women.&nbsp; Therewithal the King was unarmed, and dight
+most gloriously, but still he bore the Sword of the King&rsquo;s
+Slaying: and sithence were the King and the Queen brought into
+the great hall of the palace, and they met on the dais, and
+kissed before the lords and other folk that thronged the
+hall.&nbsp; There they ate a morsel and drank a cup together
+while all beheld them; and then they were brought forth, and a
+white horse of the goodliest, well bedight, brought for each of
+them, and thereon they mounted and went their ways together, by
+the lane which the huge throng made for them, to the great
+church, for the hallowing and the crowning; and they were led by
+one squire alone, and he unarmed; for such was the custom of
+Stark-wall when a new king should be hallowed: so came they to
+the great church (for that folk was not miscreant, so to say),
+and they entered it, they two alone, and went into the choir: and
+when they had stood there a little while wondering at their lot,
+they heard how the bells fell a-ringing tunefully over their
+heads; and then drew near the sound of many trumpets blowing
+together, and thereafter the voices of many folk singing; and
+then were the great doors thrown open, and the bishop and his
+priests came into the church with singing and minstrelsy, and
+thereafter came the whole throng of the folk, and presently the
+nave of the church was filled by it, as when the water follows
+the cutting of the dam, and fills up the dyke.&nbsp; Thereafter
+came the bishop and his mates into the choir, and came up to the
+King, and gave him and the Queen the kiss of peace.&nbsp; This
+was mass sung gloriously; and thereafter was the King anointed
+and crowned, and great joy was made throughout the church.&nbsp;
+Afterwards they went back afoot to the palace, they two alone
+together, with none but the esquire going before to show them the
+way.&nbsp; And as they went, they passed close beside those two
+neighbours, whose talk has been told of afore, and the first one,
+he who had praised the King&rsquo;s war-array, spake and said:
+&ldquo;Truly, neighbour, thou art in the right of it; and now the
+Queen has been dight duly, and hath a crown on her head, and is
+clad in white samite done all over with pearls, I see her to be
+of exceeding goodliness; as goodly, maybe, as the Lord
+King.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>Quoth the other: &ldquo;Unto me she seemeth as she did
+e&rsquo;en now; she is clad in white, as then she was, and it is
+by reason of the pure and sweet flesh of her that the pearls
+shine out and glow, and by the holiness of her body is her rich
+attire hallowed; but, forsooth, it seemed to me as she went past
+as though paradise had come anigh to our city, and that all the
+air breathed of it.&nbsp; So I say, praise be to God and His
+Hallows who hath suffered her to dwell amongst us!&rdquo;</p>
+<p>Said the first man: &ldquo;Forsooth, it is well; but knowest
+thou at all whence she cometh, and of what lineage she may
+be?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Nay,&rdquo; said the other, &ldquo;I wot not whence she
+is; but this I wot full surely, that when she goeth away, they
+whom she leadeth with her shall be well bestead.&nbsp; Again, of
+her lineage nought know I; but this I know, that they that come
+of her, to the twentieth generation, shall bless and praise the
+memory of her, and hallow her name little less than they hallow
+the name of the Mother of God.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>So spake those two; but the King and Queen came back to the
+palace, and sat among the lords and at the banquet which was held
+thereafter, and long was the time of their glory, till the night
+was far spent and all men must seek to their beds.</p>
+<h2>CHAPTER XXXVI: OF WALTER AND THE MAID IN THE DAYS OF THE
+KINGSHIP</h2>
+<p>Long it was, indeed, till the women, by the King&rsquo;s
+command, had brought the Maid to the King&rsquo;s chamber; and he
+met her, and took her by the shoulders and kissed her, and said:
+&ldquo;Art thou not weary, sweetheart?&nbsp; Doth not the city,
+and the thronging folk, and the watching eyes of the great ones .
+. . doth it not all lie heavy on thee, as it doth upon
+me?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>She said: &ldquo;And where is the city now? is not this the
+wilderness again, and thou and I alone together
+therein?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>He gazed at her eagerly, and she reddened, so that her eyes
+shone light amidst the darkness of the flush of her cheeks.</p>
+<p>He spake trembling and softly, and said: &ldquo;Is it not in
+one matter better than the wilderness? is not the fear gone, yea,
+every whit thereof?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>The dark flush had left her face, and she looked on him
+exceeding sweetly, and spoke steadily and clearly: &ldquo;Even so
+it is, beloved.&rdquo;&nbsp; Therewith she set her hand to the
+girdle that girt her loins, and did it off, and held it out
+toward him, and said: &ldquo;Here is the token; this is a
+maid&rsquo;s girdle, and the woman is ungirt.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>So he took the girdle and her hand withal, and cast his arms
+about her: and amidst the sweetness of their love and their
+safety, and assured hope of many days of joy, they spake together
+of the hours when they fared the razor-edge betwixt guile and
+misery and death, and the sweeter yet it grew to them because of
+it; and many things she told him ere the dawn, of the evil days
+bygone, and the dealings of the Mistress with her, till the grey
+day stole into the chamber to make manifest her loveliness;
+which, forsooth, was better even than the deeming of that man
+amidst the throng whose heart had been so drawn towards
+her.&nbsp; So they rejoiced together in the new day.</p>
+<p>But when the full day was, and Walter arose, he called his
+thanes and wise men to the council; and first he bade open the
+prison-doors, and feed the needy and clothe them, and make good
+cheer to all men, high and low, rich and unrich; and thereafter
+he took counsel with them on many matters, and they marvelled at
+his wisdom and the keenness of his wit; and so it was, that some
+were but half pleased thereat, whereas they saw that their will
+was like to give way before his in all matters.&nbsp; But the
+wiser of them rejoiced in him, and looked for good days while his
+life lasted.</p>
+<p>Now of the deeds that he did, and his joys and his griefs, the
+tale shall tell no more; nor of how he saw Langton again, and his
+dealings there.</p>
+<p>In Stark-wall he dwelt, and reigned a King, well beloved of
+his folk, sorely feared of their foemen.&nbsp; Strife he had to
+deal with, at home and abroad; but therein he was not quelled,
+till he fell asleep fair and softly, when this world had no more
+of deeds for him to do.&nbsp; Nor may it be said that the needy
+lamented him; for no needy had he left in his own land.&nbsp; And
+few foes he left behind to hate him.</p>
+<p>As to the Maid, she so waxed in loveliness and kindness, that
+it was a year&rsquo;s joy for any to have cast eyes upon her in
+street or on field.&nbsp; All wizardry left her since the day of
+her wedding; yet of wit and wisdom she had enough left, and to
+spare; for she needed no going about, and no guile, any more than
+hard commands, to have her will done.&nbsp; So loved she was by
+all folk, forsooth, that it was a mere joy for any to go about
+her errands.&nbsp; To be short, she was the land&rsquo;s
+increase, and the city&rsquo;s safeguard, and the bliss of the
+folk.</p>
+<p>Somewhat, as the days passed, it misgave her that she had
+beguiled the Bear-folk to deem her their God; and she considered
+and thought how she might atone it.</p>
+<p>So the second year after they had come to Stark-wall, she went
+with certain folk to the head of the pass that led down to the
+Bears; and there she stayed the men-at-arms, and went on further
+with a two score of husbandmen whom she had redeemed from
+thralldom in Stark-wall; and when they were hard on the dales of
+the Bears, she left them there in a certain little dale, with
+their wains and horses, and seed-corn, and iron tools, and went
+down all bird-alone to the dwelling of those huge men, unguarded
+now by sorcery, and trusting in nought but her loveliness and
+kindness.&nbsp; Clad she was now, as when she fled from the Wood
+beyond the World, in a short white coat alone, with bare feet and
+naked arms; but the said coat was now embroidered with the
+imagery of blossoms in silk and gold, and gems, whereas now her
+wizardry had departed from her.</p>
+<p>So she came to the Bears, and they knew her at once, and
+worshipped and blessed her, and feared her.&nbsp; But she told
+them that she had a gift for them, and was come to give it; and
+therewith she told them of the art of tillage, and bade them
+learn it; and when they asked her how they should do so, she told
+them of the men who were abiding them in the mountain dale, and
+bade the Bears take them for their brothers and sons of the
+ancient Fathers, and then they should be taught of them.&nbsp;
+This they behight her to do, and so she led them to where her
+freedmen lay, whom the Bears received with all joy and
+loving-kindness, and took them into their folk.</p>
+<p>So they went back to their dales together; but the Maid went
+her ways back to her men-at-arms and the city of Stark-wall.</p>
+<p>Thereafter she sent more gifts and messages to the Bears, but
+never again went herself to see them; for as good a face as she
+put on it that last time, yet her heart waxed cold with fear, and
+it almost seemed to her that her Mistress was alive again, and
+that she was escaping from her and plotting against her once
+more.</p>
+<p>As for the Bears, they throve and multiplied; till at last
+strife arose great and grim betwixt them and other peoples; for
+they had become mighty in battle: yea, once and again they met
+the host of Stark-wall in fight, and overthrew and were
+overthrown.&nbsp; But that was a long while after the Maid had
+passed away.</p>
+<p>Now of Walter and the Maid is no more to be told, saving that
+they begat between them goodly sons and fair daughters; whereof
+came a great lineage in Stark-wall; which lineage was so strong,
+and endured so long a while, that by then it had died out, folk
+had clean forgotten their ancient Custom of king-making, so that
+after Walter of Langton there was never another king that came
+down to them poor and lonely from out of the Mountains of the
+Bears.</p>
+<p>***END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE WOOD BEYOND THE WORLD***</p>
+<pre>
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