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The Well at the World's End by William Morris

Part 2 out of 11

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CHAPTER 10

A Meeting and a Parting in the Wood Perilous

When the first glimmer of dawn was in the sky he awoke in
the fresh morning, and sat up and hearkened, for even as he woke
he had heard something, since wariness had made him wakeful.
Now he hears the sound of horse-hoofs on the hard road,
and riseth to his feet and goeth to the very edge of the copse;
looking thence he saw a rider who was just come to the very
crossing of the roads. The new comer was much muffled
in a wide cloak, but he seemed to be a man low of stature.
He peered all round about him as if to see if the way were clear,
and then alighted down from horseback and let the hood fall off
his head, and seemed pondering which way were the best to take.
By this time it was grown somewhat lighter and Ralph,
looking hard, deemed that the rider was a woman; so he stepped
forward lightly, and as he came on to the open sward about the way,
the new comer saw him and put a foot into the stirrup to mount,
but yet looked at him over the shoulder, and then presently left
the saddle and came forward a few steps as if to meet Ralph,
having cast the cloak to the ground.

Then Ralph saw that it was none other than the damsel of the hostelry
of Bourton Abbas, and he came up to her and reached out his hand
to her, and she took it in both hers and held it and said, smiling:
"It is nought save mountains that shall never meet. Here have I followed
on thy footsteps; yet knew I not where thou wouldst be in the forest.
And now I am glad to have fallen in with thee; for I am going a long way."

Ralph looked on her and himseemed some pain or shame touched his heart,
and he said: "I am a knight adventurous; I have nought to do save
to seek adventures. Why should I not go with thee?"

She looked at him earnestly awhile and said: "Nay, it may
not be; thou art a lord's son, and I a yeoman's daughter."
She stopped, and he said nothing in answer.

"Furthermore," said she, "it is a long way, and I know not how long."
Again he made no answer, and she said: "I am going to seek the WELL AT
THE WORLD'S END, and to find it and live, or to find it not, and die."

He spake after a while: "Why should I not come with thee?"

It was growing light now, and he could see that she reddened
and then turned pale and set her lips close.

Then she said: "Because thou willest it not: because thou hadst
liefer make that journey with some one else."

He reddened in his turn, and said: "I know of no one else who shall
go with me."

"Well," she said, "it is all one, I will not have thee go with me."
"Yea, and why not?" said he. She said: "Wilt thou swear to me that
nought hath happed to thee to change thee betwixt this and Bourton?
If thou wilt, then come with me; if thou wilt not, then refrain thee.
And this I say because I see and feel that there is some change in thee
since yesterday, so that thou wouldst scarce be dealing truly in being
my fellow in this quest: for they that take it up must be single-hearted,
and think of nought save the quest and the fellow that is with them."

She looked on him sadly, and his many thoughts tongue-tied him a while;
but at last he said: "Must thou verily go on this quest?"
"Ah," she said, "now since I have seen thee and spoken with thee again,
all need there is that I should follow it at once."

Then they both kept silence, and when she spoke again her
voice was as if she were gay against her will. She said:
"Here am I come to these want-ways, and there are three roads
besides the one I came by, and I wot that this that goeth south
will bring me to the Burg of the Four Friths; and so much I
know of the folk of the said Burg that they would mock at me
if I asked them of the way to the Well at the World's End.
And as for the western way I deem that that will lead me back
again to the peopled parts whereof I know; therefore I am minded
to take the eastern way. What sayest thou, fair lord?"

Said Ralph: "I have heard of late that it leadeth presently to Hampton
under the Scaur, where dwelleth a people of goodwill."

"Who told thee this tale?" said she. Ralph answered, reddening again,
"I was told by one who seemed to know both of that folk, and of the Burg
of the Four Friths, and she said that the folk of Hampton were a good folk,
and that they of the Burg were evil."

The damsel smiled sadly when she heard him say 'She,' and when
he had done she said: "And I have heard, and not from yesterday,
that at Hampton dwelleth the Fellowship of the Dry Tree,
and that those of the fellowship are robbers and reivers.
Nevertheless they will perchance be little worse than the others;
and the tale tells that the way to the Well at the World's
End is by the Dry Tree; so thither will I at all adventure.
And now will I say farewell to thee, for it is most like that I
shall not see thee again."

"O, maiden!" said Ralph, "why wilt thou not go back to Bourton Abbas?
There I might soon meet thee again, and yet, indeed, I also am like to go
to Hampton. Shall I not see thee there?"

She shook her head and said: "Nay, since I must go so far,
I shall not tarry; and, sooth to say, if I saw thee coming
in at one gate I should go out by the other, for why
should I dally with a grief that may not be amended.
For indeed I wot that thou shalt soon forget to wish to see me,
either at Bourton Abbas or elsewhere; so I will say no more
than once again farewell."

Then she came close to him and put her hands on his shoulders
and kissed his mouth; and then she turned away swiftly,
caught up her cloak, and gat lightly into the saddle,
and so shook her reins and rode away east toward Hampton,
and left Ralph standing there downcast and pondering many things.
It was still so early in the summer morning, and he knew
so little what to do, that presently he turned and walked
back to his lair amongst the hazels, and there he lay down,
and his thoughts by then were all gone back again to the lovely
lady whom he had delivered, and he wondered if he should ever
see her again, and, sooth to say, he sorely desired to see her.
Amidst such thoughts he fell asleep again, for the night yet
owed him something of rest, so young as he was and so hard
as he had toiled, both body and mind, during the past day.

CHAPTER 11

Now Must Ralph Ride For It

When he awoke again the sun was shining through the hazel leaves, though it
was yet early; he arose and looked to his horse, and led him out of the hazel
copse and stood and looked about him; and lo! a man coming slowly through
the wood on Ralph's right hand, and making as it seemed for the want-way;
he saw Ralph presently, and stopped, and bent a bow which he held
in his hand, and then came towards him warily, with the arrow nocked.
But Ralph went to meet him with his sword in his sheath, and leading Falcon
by the rein, and the man stopped and took the shaft from the string:
he had no armour, but there was a little axe and a wood-knife in his girdle;
he was clad in homespun, and looked like a carle of the country-side.
Now he greeted Ralph, and Ralph gave him the sele of the day, and saw
that the new-comer was both tall and strong, dark of skin and black-haired,
but of a cheerful countenance. He spake frank and free to Ralph, and said:
"Whither away, lord, out of the woodland hall, and the dwelling of deer
and strong-thieves? I would that the deer would choose them a captain,
and gather head and destroy the thieves--and some few others with them."

Said Ralph: "I may scarce tell thee till I know myself.
Awhile ago I was minded for the Burg of the Four Friths;
but now I am for Hampton under Scaur."

"Yea?" said the carle, "when the Devil drives, to hell must we."

"What meanest thou, good fellow?" said Ralph, "Is Hampton then so evil
an abode?" And indeed it was in his mind that the adventure of the lady
led captive bore some evil with it.

Said the carle: "If thou wert not a stranger in these parts I
need not to answer thy question; but I will answer it presently,
yet not till we have eaten, for I hunger, and have in this wallet
both bread and cheese, and thou art welcome to a share thereof,
if thou hungerest also, as is most like, whereas thou art young
and fresh coloured."

"So it is," said Ralph, laughing, "and I also may help to spread this
table in the wilderness, since there are yet some crumbs in my wallet.
Let us sit down and fall to at once."

"By your leave, Sir Gentleman," said the carle, "we will go
a few yards further on, where there is a woodland brook,
whereof we may drink when my bottle faileth."

"Nay, I may better that," said Ralph, "for I have wherewithal."
"Nevertheless," said the carle, "we will go thither, for here
is it too open for so small a company as ours, since this
want-way hath an ill name, and I shall lead thee whereas we
shall be somewhat out of the way of murder-carles. So come on,
if thou trusteth in me."

Ralph yeasaid him, and they went together a furlong from
the want-way into a little hollow place wherethrough ran a clear
stream betwixt thick-leaved alders. The carle led Ralph
to the very lip of the water so that the bushes covered them;
there they sat down and drew what they had from their wallets,
and so fell to meat; and amidst of the meat the carle said:

"Fair Knight, as I suppose thou art one, I will ask thee if any need
draweth thee to Hampton?"

Said Ralph: "The need of giving the go-by to the Burg of the Four Friths,
since I hear tell that the folk thereof be robbers and murderers."

"Thou shalt find that out better, lord, by going thither; but I shall
tell thee, that though men may slay and steal there time and time about,
yet in regard to Hampton under Scaur, it is Heaven, wherein men sin not.
And I am one who should know, for I have been long dwelling in Hell,
that is Hampton; and now am I escaped thence, and am minded for the Burg,
if perchance I may be deemed there a man good enough to ride in their host,
whereby I might avenge me somewhat on them that have undone me:
some of whom meseemeth must have put in thy mouth that word against the Burg.
Is it not so?"

"Maybe," said Ralph, "for thou seemest to be a true man."
No more he spake though he had half a mind to tell the carle
all the tale of that adventure; but something held him back when
he thought of that lady and her fairness. Yet again his heart
misgave him of what might betide that other maiden at Hampton,
and he was unquiet, deeming that he must needs follow her thither.
The carle looked on him curiously and somewhat anxiously,
but Ralph's eyes were set on something that was not there;
or else maybe had he looked closely on the carle he might have
deemed that longing to avenge him whereof he spoke did not change
his face much; for in truth there was little wrath in it.

Now the carle said: "Thou hast a tale which thou deemest unmeet
for my ears, as it well may be. Well, thou must speak, or refrain
from speaking, what thou wilt; but thou art so fair a young knight,
and so blithe with a poor man, and withal I deem that thou mayest
help me to some gain and good, that I will tell thee a true tale:
and first that the Burg is a good town under a good lord,
who is no tyrant nor oppressor of peaceful men; and that thou mayest
dwell there in peace as to the folk thereof, who be good folk,
albeit they be no dastards to let themselves be cowed by murder-carles.
And next I will tell thee that the folk of the town of Hampton
be verily as harmless and innocent as sheep; but that they be under
evil lords who are not their true lords, who lay heavy burdens
on them and torment them even to the destroying of their lives:
and lastly I will tell thee that I was one of those poor people,
though not so much a sheep as the more part of them, therefore have
these tyrants robbed me of my croft, and set another man in my house;
and me they would have slain had I not fled to the wood that it
might cover me. And happy it was for me that I had neither wife,
nor chick, nor child, else had they done as they did with my brother,
whose wife was too fair for him, since he dwelt at Hampton; so that
they took her away from him to make sport for them of the Dry Tree,
who dwell in the Castle of the Scaur, who shall be thy masters
if thou goest thither.

"This is my tale, and thine, I say, I ask not; but I deem that thou shalt
do ill if thou go not to the Burg either with me or by thyself alone;
either as a guest, or as a good knight to take service in their host."

Now so it was that Ralph was wary; and this time he looked closely
at the carle, and found that he spake coldly for a man with so much
wrath in his heart; therefore he was in doubt about the thing;
moreover he called to mind the words of the lady whom he had
delivered, and her loveliness, and the kisses she had given him,
and he was loth to find her a liar; and he was loth also to think
that the maiden of Bourton had betaken her to so evil a dwelling.
So he said:

"Friend, I know not that I must needs be a partaker in the strife betwixt
Hampton and the Burg, or go either to one or the other of these strongholds.
Is there no other way out of this wood save by Hampton or the Burg?
or no other place anigh, where I may rest in peace awhile, and then go
on mine own errands?"

Said the Carle: "There is a thorp that lieth somewhat west
of the Burg, which is called Apthorp; but it is an open place,
not fenced, and is debateable ground, whiles held by them
of the Burg, whiles by the Dry Tree; and if thou tarry there,
and they of the Dry Tree take thee, soon is thine errand sped;
and if they of the Burg take thee, then shalt thou be led into the Burg
in worse case than thou wouldest be if thou go thereto uncompelled.
What sayest thou, therefore? Who shall hurt thee in the Burg,
a town which is under good and strong law, if thou be a true man,
as thou seemest to be? And if thou art seeking adventures,
as may well be, thou shalt soon find them there ready to hand.
I rede thee come with me to the Burg; for, to say sooth, I shall
find it somewhat easier to enter therein if I be in the company
of thee, a knight and a lord."

So Ralph considered and thought that there lay indeed but little peril
to him in the Burg, whereas both those men with whom he had striven were
hushed for ever, and there was none else to tell the tale of the battle,
save the lady, whose peril from them of the Burg was much greater than his;
and also he thought that if anything untoward befel, he had some one to fall
back on in old Oliver: yet on the other hand he had a hankering after Hampton
under Scaur, where, to say sooth, he doubted not to see the lady again.

So betwixt one thing and the other, speech hung on his
lips awhile, when suddenly the carle said: "Hist! thou hast
left thy horse without the bushes, and he is whinnying"
(which indeed he was), "there is now no time to lose.
To horse straightway, for certainly there are folk at hand,
and they may be foemen, and are most like to be."

Therewith they both arose and hastened to where Falcon stood just
outside the alder bushes, and Ralph leapt a-horseback without more ado,
and the carle waited no bidding to leap up behind him, and pointing
to a glade of the wood which led toward the highway, cried out,
"Spur that way, thither! they of the Dry Tree are abroad this morning.
Spur! 'tis for life or death!"

Ralph shook the rein and Falcon leapt away without waiting for the spur,
while the carle looked over his shoulder and said, "Yonder they come! they
are three; and ever they ride well horsed. Nay, nay! They are four,"
quoth he, as a shout sounded behind them. "Spur, young lord! spur!
And thine horse is a mettlesome beast. Yea, it will do, it will do."

Therewith came to Ralph's ears the sound of their horse-hoofs beating
the turf, and he spurred indeed, and Falcon flew forth.

"Ah," cried the carle! "but take heed, for they see that thy horse is good,
and one of them, the last, hath a bent Turk bow in his hand, and is laying an
arrow on it; as ever their wont is to shoot a-horseback: a turn of thy rein,
as if thine horse were shying at a weasel on the road!"

Ralph stooped his head and made Falcon swerve, and heard therewith
the twang of the bowstring and straightway the shaft flew
past his ears. Falcon galloped on, and the carle cried out:
"There is the highway toward the Burg! Do thy best, do thy best!
Lo you again!"

For the second shaft flew from the Turkish bow, and the noise of
the chase was loud behind them. Once again twanged the bow-string,
but this time the arrow fell short, and the woodland man,
turning himself about as well as he might, shook his clenched
fist at the chase, crying out in a voice broken by the gallop:
"Ha, thieves! I am Roger of the Rope-walk, I go to twist a rope
for the necks of you!"

Then he spake to Ralph: "They are turning back: they are beaten,
and withal they love not the open road: yet slacken not yet,
young knight, unless thou lovest thine horse more than thy life;
for they will follow on through the thicket on the way-side to see
whether thou wert born a fool and hast learned nothing later."

"Yea," said Ralph, "and now I deem thou wilt tell me that to the Burg
I needs must."

"Yea, forsooth," said the carle, "nor shall we be long, riding thus,
ere we come to the Burg Gate."

"Yea, or even slower," said Ralph, drawing rein somewhat,
"for now I deem the chase done: and after all is said,
I have no will to slay Falcon, who is one of my friends,
as thou perchance mayest come to be another."

Thereafter he went a hand-gallop till the wood began to thin, and there
were fields of tillage about the highway; and presently Roger said:
"Thou mayst breathe thy nag now, and ride single, for we are amidst friends;
not even a score of the Dry Tree dare ride so nigh the Burg save
by night and cloud."

So Ralph stayed his horse, and he and Roger lighted down,
and Ralph looked about him and saw a stone tower builded on
a little knoll amidst a wheatfield, and below it some simple
houses thatched with straw; there were folk moreover working,
or coming and going about the fields, who took little heed
of the two when they saw them standing quiet by the horse's head;
but each and all of these folk, so far as could be seen,
had some weapon.

Then said Ralph: "Good fellow, is this the Burg of the Four Friths?"
The carle laughed, and said: "Simple is the question, Sir Knight:
yonder is a watch-tower of the Burg, whereunder husbandmen can live,
because there be men-at-arms therein. And all round the outskirts
of the Frank of the Burg are there such-like towers to the number
of twenty-seven. For that, say folk, was the tale of the winters
of the Fair Lady who erewhile began the building of the Burg, when she
was first wedded to the Forest Lord, who before that building had dwelt,
he and his fathers, in thatched halls of timber here and there
about the clearings of the wild-wood. But now, knight, if thou wilt,
thou mayest go on softly toward the Gate of the Burg, and if thou
wilt I will walk beside thy rein, which fellowship, as aforesaid,
shall be a gain to me."

Said Ralph: "I pray thee come with me, good fellow, and show me how
easiest to enter this stronghold." So, when Falcon was well breathed,
they went on, passing through goodly acres and wide meadows, with here
and there a homestead on them, and here and there a carle's cot.
Then came they to a thorp of the smallest on a rising ground, from the
further end of which they could see the walls and towers of the Burg.
Thereafter right up to the walls were no more houses or cornfields,
nought but reaches of green meadows plenteously stored with sheep and kine,
and with a little stream winding about them.

CHAPTER 12

Ralph Entereth Into the Burg of the Four Friths

When they came up to the wall they saw that it was well builded of
good ashlar, and so high that they might not see the roofs of the town
because of it; but there were tall towers on it, a many of them,
strong and white. The road led up straight to the master-gate
of the Burg, and there was a bailey before it strongly walled,
and manned with weaponed men, and a captain going about amongst them.
But they entered it along with men bringing wares into the town,
and none heeded them much, till they came to the very gate,
on the further side of a moat that was both deep and clean;
but as now the bridge was down and the portcullis up, so that the
market-people might pass in easily, for it was yet early in the day.
But before the door on either side stood men-at-arms well weaponed,
and on the right side was their captain, a tall man with bare
grizzled head, but otherwise all-armed, who stopped every one whom
he knew not, and asked their business.

As Ralph came riding up with Roger beside him, one of the guard laid his spear
across and bade them stand, and the captain spake in a dry cold voice:
"Whence comest thou, man-at-arms?" "From the Abbey of St. Mary at Higham,"
said Ralph. "Yea," said the captain, smiling grimly, "even so I
might have deemed: thou wilt be one of the Lord Abbot's lily lads."
"No I am not," quoth Ralph angrily. "Well, well," said the captain,
"what is thy name?"

"Ralph Motherson," quoth Ralph, knitting his brow. Said the captain
"And whither wilt thou?" Said Ralph, "On mine own errands."
"Thou answerest not over freely," quoth the captain.
Said Ralph, "Then is it even; for thou askest freely enough."
"Well, well," said the captain, grinning in no unfriendly wise,
"thou seemest a stout lad enough; and as to my asking, it is my
craft as captain of the North Gate: but now tell me friendly,
goest thou to any kinsman or friend in the Burg?"

Then Ralph's brow cleared and he said, "Nay, fair sir."
"Well then," said the captain, "art thou but riding straight
through to another gate, and so away again?" "Nay," said Ralph,
"if I may, I would abide here the night over, or may-happen longer."
"Therein thou shalt do well, young man," said the captain;
"then I suppose thou wilt to some hostelry? tell me which one."

Said Ralph, "Nay, I wot not to which one, knowing not the town."
But Roger close by him spake and said: "My lord shall go to the Flower
de Luce, which is in the big square."

"Truly," said the captain, "he goes to a good harbour; and moreover,
fair sir, to-morrow thou shalt see a goodly sight from thine inn;
thou mayst do no better, lord. But thou, carle, who art thou,
who knowest the inside of our Burg so well, though I know thee not,
for as well as I know our craftsmen and vavassors?"

Then Roger's words hung on his lips awhile, and the knight bent
his brow on him, till at last he said, "Sir Captain, I was minded
to lie, and say that I am this young knight's serving-man."
The captain broke in on him grimly, "Thou wert best not lie."

"Yea, sir," quoth Roger, "I deemed, as it was on my tongue's end, that thou
wouldst find me out, so I have nought to do but tell thee the very sooth:
this it is: I am a man made masterless by the thieves of the Dry Tree.
From my land at Hampton under Scaur have I been driven, my chattels have
been lifted, and my friends slain; and therefore by your leave would I
ride in the host of the Burg, that I may pay back the harm which I had,
according to the saw, 'better bale by breeding bale.' So, lord, I ask thee
wilt thou lend me the sword and give me the loaf, that I may help both thee,
and the Burg, and me?"

The captain looked at him closely and sharply, while the carle
faced him with open simple eyes, and at last he said:
"Well, carle, thou wert about to name thyself this young
knight's serving-man; be thou even so whiles he abideth in the Burg;
and when he leaveth the Burg then come back to me here any day
before noon, and may be I shall then put a sword in thy fist
and horse between thy thighs. But," (and he wagged his head
threateningly at Roger) "see that thou art at the Flower de
Luce when thou art called for."

Roger held his peace and seemed somewhat abashed at this word,
and the captain turned to Ralph and said courteously: "Young knight,
if thou art seeking adventures, thou shalt find them in our host;
and if thou be but half as wise as thou seemest bold, thou wilt
not fail to gain honour and wealth both, in the service of the Burg;
for we be overmuch beset with foemen that we should not welcome any
wight and wary warrior, though he be an alien of blood and land.
If thou thinkest well of this, then send me thy man here and give me
word of thy mind, and I shall lead thee to the chiefs of the Port,
and make the way easy for thee."

Ralph thanked him and rode through the gate into the street,
and Roger still went beside his stirrup.

Presently Ralph turned to Roger and spake to him somewhat sourly,
and said: "Thou hadst one lie in thy mouth and didst swallow it;
but how shall I know that another did not come out thence?
Withal thou must needs be my fellow here, will I, nill I;
for thou it was that didst put that word into the captain's
mouth that thou shouldst serve me while I abide in the Burg.
So I will say here and now, that my mind misgives me concerning thee,
whether thou be not of those very thieves and tyrants whom thou
didst mis-say but a little while ago."

"Yea," said Roger, "thou art wise indeed to set me down as one of the
Dry Tree; doubtless that is why I delivered thee from their ambush even now.
And as for my service, thou mayst need it; for indeed I deem thee not so safe
as thou deemest thyself in this Burg."

"What!" said Ralph, "Dost thou blow hot and cold? why even now,
when we were in the wood, thou wert telling me that I
had nought at all to fear in the Burg of the Four Friths,
and that all was done there by reason and with justice.
What is this new thing then which thou hast found out,
or what is that I have to fear?"

Roger changed countenance thereat and seemed somewhat confused,
as one who has been caught unawares; but he gat his own face presently,
and said: "Nay, Sir Knight, I will tell thee the truth right out.
In the wood yonder thy danger was great that thou mightest run into
the hands of them of the Dry Tree; therefore true it is that I spake
somewhat beyond my warrant concerning the life of the folk of the Burg,
as how could I help it? But surely whatever thy peril may be here,
it is nought to that which awaited thee at Hampton."

"Nay, but what is the peril?" said Ralph. Quoth Roger, "If thou wilt become
their man and enter into their host, there is none; for they will ask few
questions of so good a man-at-arms, when they know that thou art theirs;
but if thou naysay that, it may well be that they will be for turning
the key on thee till thou tellest them what and whence thou art."
Ralph answered nought, thinking in his mind that this was like enough;
so he rode on soberly, till Roger said:

"Anyhow, thou mayst turn the cold shoulder on me if thou wilt.
Yet were I thee, I would not, for so it is, both that I can help thee,
as I deem, in time to come, and that I have helped thee somewhat
in time past."

Now Ralph was young and could not abide the blame of thanklessness;
so he said, "Nay, nay, fellow, go we on together to the Flower de Luce."

Roger nodded his head and grumbled somewhat, and they made
no stay except that now and again Ralph drew rein to look
at goodly things in the street, for there were many open
booths therein, so that the whole street looked like a market.
The houses were goodly of building, but not very tall,
the ways wide and well-paved. Many folk were in the street,
going up and down on their errands, and both men and women of them
seemed to Ralph stout and strong, but not very fair of favour.
Withal they seemed intent on their business, and payed little
heed to Ralph and his fellow, though he was by his attire
plainly a stranger.

Now Ralph sees a house more gaily adorned than most, and a sign hung
out from it whereon was done an image of St. Loy, and underneath the same
a booth on which was set out weapons and war-gear exceeding goodly;
and two knaves of the armourer were standing by to serve folk,
and crying their wares with "what d'ye lack?" from time to time.
So he stayed and fell to looking wistfully at the gleam and glitter
of those fair things, till one of the aforesaid knaves came to his
side and said:

"Fair Sir, surely thou lackest somewhat; what have we here for
thy needs?" So Ralph thought and called to mind that strong
little steel axe of the man whom he had slain yesterday,
and asked for the sight of such a weapon, if he might perchance
cheapen it. And the lad brought a very goodly steel axe,
gold-inlaid about the shaft, and gave him the price thereof,
which Ralph deemed he might compass; so he brought round
his scrip to his hand, that he might take out the money.
But while his hand was yet in the bag, out comes the master-armourer,
a tall and very stark carle, and said in courteous wise:
"Sir Knight, thou art a stranger to me and I know thee not;
so I must needs ask for a sight of thy license to buy weapons,
under the seal of the Burg."

"Hear a wonder," said Ralph, "that a free man for his money
shall not buy wares set out to be bought, unless he have
the Burg-Reeve's hand and seal for it! Nay, take thy florins,
master, and give me the axe and let the jest end there."
"I jest not, young rider," quoth the armourer. "When we know
thee for a liegeman of the Burg, thou shalt buy what thou wilt
without question; but otherwise I have told thee the law,
and how may I, the master of the craft, break the law?
Be not wrath, fair sir, I will set aside thine axe for thee,
till thou bring me the license, or bid me come see it, and thou
shalt get the said license at the Town Hall straight-way,
when they may certify thee no foeman of the Burg."

Ralph saw that it availed nothing to bicker with the smith,
and so went his way somewhat crestfallen, and that the more
as he saw Roger grinning a little.

Now they come into the market-place, on one side whereof was the master
church of the town, which was strongly built and with a tall tower
to it, but was not very big, and but little adorned. Over against it
they saw the sign of the Flower de Luce, a goodly house and great.
Thitherward they turned; but in the face of the hostelry amidmost the place
was a thing which Roger pointed at with a grin that spoke as well as words;
and this was a high gallows-tree furnished with four forks or arms,
each carved and wrought in the fashion of the very bough of a tree,
from which dangled four nooses, and above them all was a board whereon
was written in big letters THE DRY TREE. And at the foot of this gallows
were divers folk laughing and talking.

So Ralph understood at once that those four men whom he had
seen led away bound yesterday should be hanged thereon;
so he stayed a franklin who was passing by, and said to him,
"Sir, I am a stranger in the town, and I would know if justice
shall be done on the four woodmen to-day." "Nay," said the man,
"but to-morrow; they are even now before the judges."

Then said Roger in a surly voice, "Why art thou not there to look on?"
"Because," quoth the man, "there is little to see there, and not much
more to hearken. The thieves shall be speedily judged, and not questioned
with torments, so that they may be the lustier to feel what the hangman
shall work on them to-morrow; then forsooth the show shall be goodly.
But far better had it been if we had had in our hands the great witch
of these dastards, as we looked to have her; but now folk say that she
has not been brought within gates, and it is to be feared that she hath
slipped through our fingers once more."

Roger laughed, and said: "Simple are ye folk of the Burg and know nought
of her shifts. I tell thee it is not unlike that she is in the Burg even now,
and hath in hand to take out of your prison the four whom ye have caught."

The franklin laughed scornfully in his turn and said:
"If we be simple, thou art a fool merely: are we not stronger
and more than the Dry Tree? How should she not be taken?
How should she not be known if she were walking about these streets?
Have we no eyes, fool-carle?" And he laughed again,
for he was wroth.

Ralph hearkened, and a kind of fear seemed griping his heart,
so he asked the franklin: "Tell me, sir, are ye two speaking
of a woman who is Queen of these strong-thieves?" "Yea," said he,
"or it might better be said that she is their goddess, their mawmet,
their devil, the very heart and soul of their wickedness.
But one day shall we have her body and soul, and then shall her
body have but an evil day of it till she dieth in this world."

"Yea, forsooth, if she can die at all," quoth Roger.

The franklin looked sourly on him and said: "Good man,
thou knowest much of her, meseemeth--Whence art thou?"
Said Roger speedily: "From Hampton under Scaur;
and her rebel I am, and her dastard, and her runaway.
Therefore I know her forsooth."

"Well," the Franklin said "thou seemest a true man, and yet I would counsel
thee to put a rein on thy tongue when thou art minded to talk of the Devil
of the Dry Tree, or thou mayst come to harm in the Burg."

He walked away towards the gallows therewith; and Roger said, almost as
if he were talking to himself; "A heavy-footed fool goeth yonder;
but after this talk we were better hidden by the walls of the Flower-de-Luce."
So therewith they went on toward the hostel.

But the market place was wide, and they were yet some minutes getting to
the door, and ere they came there Ralph said, knitting his brows anxiously:
"Is this woman fair or foul to look on?" "That is nought so easy
to tell of," said Roger, "whiles she is foul, whiles very fair,
whiles young and whiles old; whiles cruel and whiles kind.
But note this, when she is the kindest then are her carles the cruellest;
and she is the kinder to them because they are cruel."

Ralph pondered what he said, and wondered if this were
verily the woman whom he had delivered, or some other.
As if answering to his unspoken thought, Roger went on:
"They speak but of one woman amongst them of the Dry Tree,
but in sooth they have many others who are like unto her in one
way or other; and this again is a reason why they may not lay
hands on the very Queen of them all."'

Therewithal they came unto the hostel, and found it fair
enough within, the hall great and goodly for such a house,
and with but three chapmen-carles therein. Straightway they called
for meat, for it was now past noon, and the folk of the house
served them when the grooms had taken charge of Falcon.
And Roger served Ralph as if he were verily his man.
Then Ralph went to his chamber aloft and rested a while,
but came down into the hall a little before nones, and found
Roger there walking up and down the hall floor, and no man else,
so he said to him: "Though thou art not of the Burg,
thou knowest it; wilt thou not come abroad then, and show it
me? for I have a mind to learn the ways of the folk here."

Said Roger, and smiled a little: "If thou commandest me as my lord,
I will come; yet I were better pleased to abide behind; for I am
weary with night-waking and sorrow; and have a burden of thought,
one which I must bear to the end of the road; and if I put it down I
shall have to go back and take it up again."

Ralph thought that he excused himself with more words than were needed;
but he took little heed of it, but nodded to him friendly, and went
out of the house afoot, but left his weapons and armour behind him
by the rede of Roger.

CHAPTER 13

The Streets of the Burg of the Four Friths

He went about the streets and found them all much like to the one which
they had entered by the north gate; he saw no poor or wretched houses,
and none very big as of great lords; they were well and stoutly builded,
but as aforesaid not much adorned either with carven work or painting:
there were folk enough in the streets, and now Ralph, as was like
to be, looked specially at the women, and thought many of them
little better-favoured than the men, being both dark and low;
neither were they gaily clad, though their raiment, like the houses,
was stout and well wrought. But here and there he came on a woman
taller and whiter than the others, as though she were of another blood;
all such of these as he saw were clad otherwise than the darker women:
their heads uncoifed, uncovered save for some garland or silken band:
their gowns yellow like wheat-straw, but gaily embroidered;
sleeveless withal and short, scarce reaching to the ancles, and whiles
so thin that they were rather clad with the embroidery than the cloth;
shoes they had not, but sandals bound on their naked feet with white thongs,
and each bore an iron ring about her right arm.

The more part of the men wore weapons at their sides and had staves
in hand, and were clad in short jerkins brown or blue of colour,
and looked ready for battle if any moment should call them thereto;
but among them were men of different favour and stature from these,
taller for the most part, unarmed, and clad in long gowns of fair colours
with cloths of thin and gay-coloured web twisted about their heads.
These he took for merchants, as they were oftenest standing in and about
the booths and shops, whereof there were some in all the streets,
though the market for victuals and such like he found over for that day,
and but scantily peopled.

Out of one of these markets, which was the fish and fowl market,
he came into a long street that led him down to a gate right over
against that whereby he had entered the Burg; and as he came
thereto he saw that there was a wide way clear of all houses inside
of the wall, so that men-at-arms might go freely from one part
to the other; and he had also noted that a wide way led from each
ort out of the great place, and each ended not but in a gate.
But as to any castle in the town, he saw none; and when he asked
a burgher thereof, the carle laughed in his face, and said
to him that the whole Burg, houses and all, was a castle,
and that it would turn out to be none of the easiest to win.
And forsooth Ralph himself was much of that mind.

Now he was just within the south gate when he held this talk,
and there were many folk thereby already, and more flocking thereto;
so he stood there to see what should betide; and anon he heard
great blowing of horns and trumpets all along the wall, and,
as he deemed, other horns answered from without; and so it was;
for soon the withoutward horns grew louder, and the folk fell back
on either side of the way, and next the gates were thrown wide open
(which before had been shut save for a wicket) and thereafter came
the first of a company of men-at-arms, foot-men, with bills some,
and some with bows, and all-armed knights and sergeants a-horseback.

So streamed in these weaponed men till Ralph saw that it was a great
host that was entering the Burg; and his heart rose within him,
so warrior-like they were of men and array, though no big men
of their bodies; and many of them bore signs of battle about them,
both in the battering of their armour and the rending of their raiment,
and the clouts tied about the wounds on their bodies.

After a while among the warriors came herds of neat and flocks of
sheep and strings of horses, of the spoil which the host had lifted;
and then wains filled, some with weapons and war gear, and some
with bales of goods and household stuff. Last came captives,
some going afoot and some for weariness borne in wains;
for all these war-taken thralls were women and women-children;
of males there was not so much as a little lad. Of the women
many seemed fair to Ralph despite their grief and travel;
and as he looked on them he deemed that they must be of the kindred
and nation of the fair white women he had seen in the streets;
though they were not clad like those, but diversely.

So Ralph gazed on this pageant till all had passed, and he was
weary with the heat and the dust and the confused clamour
of shouting and laughter and talking; and whereas most of
the folk followed after the host and their spoil, the streets
of the town there about were soon left empty and peaceful.
So he turned into a street narrower than most, that went east
from the South Gate and was much shaded from the afternoon sun,
and went slowly down it, meaning to come about the inside of
the wall till he should hit the East Gate, and so into the Great
Place when the folk should have gone their ways home.

He saw no folk in the street save here and there an old woman
sitting at the door of her house, and maybe a young child with her.
As he came to where the street turned somewhat, even such a
carline was sitting on a clean white door-step on the sunny side,
somewhat shaded by a tall rose-laurel tree in a great tub, and she
sang as she sat spinning, and Ralph stayed to listen in his idle mood,
and he heard how she sang in a dry, harsh voice:

Clashed sword on shield In the harvest field; And no man blames The red
red flames, War's candle-wick On roof and rick. Now dead lies the yeoman
unwept and unknown On the field he hath furrowed, the ridge he hath sown:
And all in the middle of wethers and neat The maidens are driven with blood on
their feet; For yet 'twixt the Burg-gate and battle half-won The dust-driven
highway creeps uphill and on, And the smoke of the beacons goes coiling aloft,
While the gathering horn bloweth loud, louder and oft.

Throw wide the gates For nought night waits; Though the chase is
dead The moon's o'erhead And we need the clear Our spoil to share.
Shake the lots in the helm then for brethren are we, And the goods
of my missing are gainful to thee. Lo! thine are the wethers,
and his are the kine; And the colts of the marshland unbroken
are thine, With the dapple-grey stallion that trampled his groom;
And Giles hath the gold-blossomed rose of the loom. Lo! leaps
out the last lot and nought have I won, But the maiden unmerry,
by battle undone.

Even as her song ended came one of those fair yellow-gowned damsels round
the corner of the street, bearing in her hand a light basket full of flowers:
and she lifted up her head and beheld Ralph there; then she went slowly
and dropped her eyelids, and it was pleasant to Ralph to behold her;
for she was as fair as need be. Her corn-coloured gown was dainty and thin,
and but for its silver embroidery had hidden her limbs but little;
the rosiness of her ancles showed amidst her white sandal-thongs, and there
were silver rings and gold on her arms along with the iron ring.

Now she lifted up her eyes and looked shyly at Ralph, and he smiled
at her well-pleased, and deemed it would be good to hear her voice;
so he went up to her and greeted her, and she seemed to take
his greeting well, though she glanced swiftly at the carline
in the doorway.

Said Ralph: "Fair maiden, I am a stranger in this town, and have seen
things I do not wholly understand; now wilt thou tell me before l
ask the next question, who will be those war-taken thralls whom even
now I saw brought into the Burg by the host? of what nation be they,
and of what kindred?"

Straightway was the damsel all changed; she left her dainty tricks,
and drew herself up straight and stiff. She looked at him in the eyes,
flushing red, and with knit brows, a moment, and then passed by him
with swift and firm feet as one both angry and ashamed.

But the carline who had beheld the two with a grin on her wrinkled face
changed aspect also, and cried out fiercely after the damsel, and said:
"What! dost thou flee from the fair young man, and he so kind and soft
with thee, thou jade? Yea, I suppose thou dost fetch and carry
for some mistress who is young and a fool, and who has not yet
learned how to deal with the daughters of thine accursed folk.
Ah! if I had but money to buy some one of you, and a good one,
she should do something else for me than showing her fairness to
young men; and I would pay her for her long legs and her white skin,
till she should curse her fate that she had not been born little
and dark-skinned and free, and with heels un-bloodied with the blood
of her back."

Thus she went on, though the damsel was long out of ear-shot of her curses;
and Ralph tarried not to get away from her spiteful babble, which he now
partly understood; and that all those yellow-clad damsels were thralls
to the folk of the Burg; and belike were of the kindred of those captives
late-taken whom he had seen amidst the host at its entering into the Burg.

So he wandered away thence thinking on what he should do till
the sun was set, and he had come into the open space underneath
the walls, and had gone along it till he came to the East Gate:
there he looked around him a little and found people flowing
back from the Great Place, whereto they had gathered to see
the host mustered and the spoil blessed; then he went on still
under the wall, and noted not that here and there a man turned
about to look upon him curiously, for he was deep in thought,
concerning the things which he had seen and heard of,
and pondered much what might have befallen his brethren since they
sundered at the Want-way nigh to the High House of Upmeads.
Withal the chief thing that he desired was to get him away
from the Burg, for he felt himself unfree therein; and he said
to himself that if he were forced to dwell among this folk,
that he had better never have stolen himself away from his
father and mother; and whiles even he thought that he would do
his best on the morrow to get him back home to Upmeads again.
But then when he thought of how his life would go in his old home,
there seemed to him a lack, and when he questioned himself
as to what that lack was, straightway he seemed to see that Lady
of the Wildwood standing before the men-at-arms in her scanty raiment
the minute before his life was at adventure because of them.
And in sooth he smiled to himself then with a beating heart,
as he told himself that above all things he desired to see that Lady,
whatever she might be, and that he would follow his adventure
to the end until he met her.

Amidst these thoughts he came unto the North Gate, whereby he had first
entered the Burg, and by then it was as dark as the summer night would be;
so he woke up from his dream, as it were, and took his way briskly back
to the Flower de Luce.

CHAPTER 14

What Ralph Heard of the Matters of the Burg of the Four Friths

There was no candle in the hall when he entered, but it was not so dark
therein but he might see Roger sitting on a stool near the chimney,
and opposite to him on the settle sat two men; one very tall and big,
the other small; Roger was looking away from these, and whistling;
and it came into Ralph's mind that he would have him think
that he had nought to do with them, whether that were so or not.
But he turned round as Ralph came up the hall and rose and came up to him,
and fell to talking with him and asking him how he liked the Burg;
and ever he spake fast and loud, so that again it came on Ralph
that he was playing a part.

Ralph heeded him little, but ever looked through the hall-dusk
on those twain, who presently arose and went toward the hall door,
but when they were but half-way across the floor a chamberlain came
in suddenly, bearing candles in his hands, and the light fell on
those guests and flashed back from a salade on the head of the big man,
and Ralph saw that he was clad in a long white gaberdine, and he
deemed that he was the very man whom he had seen last in the Great
Place at Higham, nigh the church, and before that upon the road.
As for the smaller man Ralph had no knowledge of him, for he could
see but little of his face, whereas he was wrapped up in a cloak,
for as warm as the evening was, and wore a slouch hat withal;
but his eyes seemed great and wondrous bright.

But when they were gone Ralph asked Roger if he knew aught of them, or if they
had told him aught. "Nay," said Roger, "they came in here as I sat alone,
and had their meat, and spake nought to me, and little to each other.
I deem them not to be of the Burg. Nay, sooth to say, I doubt if they
be true men."

As he spake came in a sort of the townsmen somewhat merry
and noisy, and called for meat and drink and more lights;
so that the board was brought and the hall was speedily astir.
These men, while supper was being dight, fell to talking to Ralph
and Roger, and asking them questions of whence and whither,
but nowise uncourteously: to whom Roger answered with the tale
which he had told Ralph, and Ralph told what he would,
and that was but little.

But when the board was dight they bade them sit down with them and eat.
Ralph sat down at once, and Roger would have served him, but Ralph bade
him do it not, and constrained him to sit by his side, and they two sat
a little apart from the townsmen.

So when they had eaten their fill, and wine was brought,
and men were drinking kindly, Ralph began to ask Roger concerning
those women whom he had seen in the street, and the captives whom
he had seen brought in by the host, and if they were of one kindred,
and generally how it was with them: and he spake somewhat
softly as if he would not break into the talk of the townsmen:
but Roger answered him in a loud voice so that all could hear:

"Yea, lord, I will tell thee the tale of them, which setteth
forth well both the wise policy and the great mercy of the folk
of the Burg and their rulers."

Said Ralph: "Are these women also of the Dry Tree?
For I perceive them to be born of the foes of the Burg."

Now the townsmen had let their talk drop a while to listen to
the talk of the aliens; and Roger answered still in a loud voice:
"Nay, nay, it is not so. These queens are indeed war-taken thralls,
but not from them of the Dry Tree, or they would have been
slain at once, like as the carles of those accursed ones.
But these are of the folk of the Wheat-wearers, even as those
whom thou sawest brought to-day amidst the other spoil.
And to this folk the Burg showeth mercy, and whenso the host goeth
against them and over-cometh (and that is well-nigh whenever they meet)
these worthy lords slay no woman of them, but the men only,
whether they be old or young or youngest. As for their women they
are brought hither and sold at the market-cross to the highest bidder.
And this honour they have, that such of them as be fair,
and that is the more part of the younger ones, fetch no ill penny.
Yet for my part I were loth to cheapen such wares: for they make
but evil servants, being proud, and not abiding stripes lightly,
or toiling the harder for them; and they be somewhat too handy
with the knife if they deem themselves put upon. Speak I sooth,
my masters?" quoth he, turning toward them of the town.

Said a burgher somewhat stricken in years, "Nought but sooth;
peaceable men like to me eschew such servants; all the more because of this,
that if one of these queens misbehave with the knife, or strayeth
from her master's bed, the laws of the Burg meddle not therein.
For the wise men say that such folk are no more within the law than kine be,
and may not for their deeds be brought before leet or assize any more
than kine. So that if the master punish her not for her misdoings,
unpunished she needs must go; yea even if her deed be mere murder."

"That is sooth," said a somewhat younger man; "yet whiles it fareth ill
with them at the hands of our women. To wit, my father's brother has
even now come from the war to find his thrall all spoilt by his wife:
and what remedy may he have against his wife? his money is gone,
even as if she had houghed his horse or his best cow."

"Yea," said a third, "we were better without such cattle.
A thrust with a sword and all the tale told, were the better
way of dealing with them."

Said another; "Yet are the queens good websters, and, lacking them,
figured cloth of silk would be far-fetched and dear-bought here."

A young man gaily clad, who had been eyeing the speakers disdainfully,
spake next and said: "Fair sirs, ye are speaking like hypocrites,
and as if your lawful wives were here to hearken to you;
whereas ye know well how goodly these thralls be, and that many
of them can be kind enough withal; and ye would think yourselves
but ill bestead if ye might not cheapen such jewels for your money.
Which of you will go to the Cross next Saturday and there buy him
a fairer wife than he can wed out of our lineages? and a wife
withal of whose humours he need take no more account of than
the dullness of his hound or the skittish temper of his mare,
so long as the thong smarts, and the twigs sting."

One or two grinned as he spake, but some bent their brows at him,
yet scarce in earnest, and the talk thereover dropped, nor did Ralph ask any
more questions; for he was somewhat down-hearted, calling to mind the frank
and free maidens of Upmead, and their friendly words and hearty kisses.
And him seemed the world was worse than he had looked to find it.

Howsoever, the oldest and soberest of the guests,
seeing that he was a stranger and of noble aspect,
came unto him and sat by him, and fell to telling him tales
of the wars of the men of the Burg with the Wheat-wearers;
and how in time past, when the town was but little fenced,
the Wheat-wearers had stormed their gates and taken the city,
and had made a great slaughter; but yet had spared many of
the fighting-men, although they had abided there as the masters
of them, and held them enthralled for three generations of men:
after which time the sons' sons of the old Burg-dwellers
having grown very many again, and divers of them being
trusted in sundry matters by the conquerors, who oppressed
them but little, rose up against them as occasion served,
in the winter season and the Yule feast, and slew their masters,
save for a few who were hidden away.

"And thereafter," quoth he, "did we make the Burg strong and hard to win,
as ye see it to-day; and we took for our captain the Forest Lord,
who ere-while had dwelt in the clearings of the wildwood, and he wedded
the Fair Lady who was the son's daughter of him who had been our lord ere
the Wheat-wearers overcame us; and we grew safe and free and mighty again.
And the son of the Forest Lord, he whom we call the War-smith, he it
was who beheld the Burg too much given to pleasure, and delighting
in the softness of life; and he took order to harden our hearts,
and to cause all freemen to learn the craft of war and battle,
and let the women and thralls and aliens see to other craftsmanship
and to chaffer; and even so is it done as he would; and ye shall find
us hardy of heart enough, though belike not so joyous as might be.
Yet at least we shall not be easy to overcome."

"So indeed it seemeth," said Ralph. "Yet will I ask of you
first one question, and then another."

"Ask on," said the burgher.

Said Ralph: "How is it that ye, being so strong, should still
suffer them of the Dry Tree, taking a man here and a man there,
when ye might destroy them utterly?"

The Burgher reddened and cleared his throat and said:
"Sir, it must be made clear to you that these evil beasts are no
peril to the Burg of the Four Friths; all the harm they may do us,
is as when a cur dog biteth a man in the calf of the leg;
whereby the man shall be grieved indeed, but the dog slain.
Such grief as that they have done us at whiles: but the grief
is paid for thus, that the hunting and slaying of them keeps
our men in good trim, and pleasures them; shortly to say it,
they are the chief deer wherewith our wood is stocked."

He stopped awhile and then went on again and said: "To say sooth
they be not very handy for crushing as a man crushes a wasp,
because sorcery goes with them, and the wiles of one who is their Queen,
the evilest woman who ever spat upon the blessed Host of the Altar:
yet is she strong, a devouring sea of souls, God help us!"
And he blessed himself therewith.

Said Ralph: "Yet a word on these Wheat-wearers; it seemeth that ye
never fail to overcome them in battle?"

"But seldom at least," quoth the Burgher.

Said Ralph: "Then it were no great matter for you to gather
a host overwhelming, and to take their towns and castles,
and forbid them weapons, and make them your thralls to till
the land for you which now they call theirs; so that ye might
have of their gettings all save what were needful for them
to live as thralls."

"I deem it were an easy thing," said the burgher.

Quoth Ralph: "Then why do ye not so?"

"It were but a poor game to play," said the burgher.
"Such of their wealth as we have a mind to, we can have now at
the cost of a battle or two, begun one hour and ended the next:
were we their masters sitting down amidst of their hatred,
and amidst of their plotting, yea, and in the very place where
that were the hottest and thickest, the battle would be to begin
at every sun's uprising, nor would it be ended at any sunset.
Hah! what sayest thou?"

Said Ralph: "This seemeth to me but the bare truth; yet it
is little after the manner of such masterful men as ye be.
But why then do ye slay all their carles that are taken;
whereas ye bear away the women and make thralls of them at home,
that is to say, foes in every house?"

"It may be," said the Burgher, "that this is not amongst the wisest
of our dealings. Yet may we do no otherwise; for thus we swore to do
by all the greatest oaths that we might swear, in the days when we
first cast off their yoke, and yet were not over strong at the first;
and now it hath so grown into a part of our manners, yea, and of our very
hearts and minds, that the slaying of a Wheat-wearer is to us a lighter
matter than the smiting of a rabbit or a fowmart. But now, look you,
fair sir, my company ariseth from table; so I bid thee a good night.
And I give thee a good rede along with the good wish, to wit,
that thou ask not too many questions in this city concerning its foemen:
for here is the stranger looked upon with doubt, if he neither will take
the wages of the Burg for battle, nor hath aught to sell."

Ralph reddened at his word, and the other looked at him steadily
as he spoke, so that Ralph deemed that he mistrusted him:
he deemed moreover that three or four of the others looked
hard at him as they went towards the door, while Roger stood
somewhat smiling, and humming a snatch of an old song.

But when the other guests had left the hostelry, Roger left
his singing, and turned to Ralph and said: "Master, meseems
that they mistrust us, and now maybe is that peril that I spake
of nigher than I deemed when we came into the Burg this morning.
And now I would that we were well out of the Burg and in the merry
greenwood again, and it repents me that I brought thee hither."

"Nay, good fellow," quoth Ralph, "heed it not: besides, it was me,
not thee, that they seemed to doubt of. I will depart hence to-morrow
morning no worser than I came, and leave thee to seek thy fortune here;
and good luck go with thee."

Roger looked hard at him and said: "Not so, young lord; if thou goest
I will go with thee, for thou hast won my heart, I know not how:
and I would verily be thy servant, to follow thee whithersoever thou goest;
for I think that great deeds will come of thee."

This word pleased Ralph, for he was young and lightly put
faith in men's words, and loved to be well thought of,
and was fain of good fellowship withal. So he said:
"This is a good word of thine, and I thank thee for it;
and look to it that in my adventures, and the reward of them
thou shalt have thy due share. Lo here my hand on it!"

Roger took his hand, yet therewith his face seemed
a little troubled, but he said nought. Then spoke Ralph:
"True it is that I am not fain to take the wages of the Burg;
for it seems to me that they be hard men, and cruel and joyless,
and that their service shall be rather churlish than knightly.
Howbeit, let night bring counsel, and we will see to this to-morrow;
for now I am both sleepy and weary." Therewith he called
the chamberlain, who bore a wax light before him to his chamber,
and he did off his raiment and cast himself on his bed, and fell
asleep straightway, before he knew where Roger was sleeping,
whether it were in the hall or some place else.

CHAPTER 15

How Ralph Departed From the Burg of the Four Friths

Himseemed he had scarce been asleep a minute ere awoke with a sound
of someone saying softly, "Master, master, awake!" So he sat
up and answered softly in his turn: "Who is it? what is amiss,
since the night is yet young?"

"I am thy fellow-farer, Roger," said the speaker, "and this thou hast
to do, get on thy raiment speedily, and take thy weapons without noise,
if thou wouldst not be in the prison of the Burg before sunrise."

Ralph did as he was bidden without more words; for already when
he lay down his heart misgave him that he was in no safe place;
he looked to his weapons and armour that they should not clash,
and down they came into the hall and found the door on the latch;
so out they went and Ralph saw that it was somewhat cloudy;
the moon was set and it was dark, but Ralph knew by the scent
that came in on the light wind, and a little stir of blended sounds,
that it was hard on dawning; and even therewith he heard
the challenge of the warders on the walls and their crying
of the hour; and the chimes of the belfry rang clear and loud,
and seeming close above him, two hours and a half after midnight.
Roger spake not, and Ralph was man-at-arms enough to know that he must
hold his peace; and though he longed sore to have his horse Falcon
with him, yet he wotted that it availed not to ask of his horse,
since he durst not ask of his life.

So they went on silently till they were out of the Great Place
and came into a narrow street, and so into another which led
them straight into the houseless space under the wall.
Roger led right on as if he knew the way well, and in a twinkling
were they come to a postern in the wall betwixt the East Gate
and the South. By the said postern Ralph saw certain men standing;
and on the earth near by, whereas he was keen-eyed, he saw
more than one man lying moveless.

Spake Roger softly to the men who stood on their feet:
"Is the rope twined?" "Nay, rope-twiner," said one of them.
Then Roger turned and whispered to Ralph: "Friends. Get out thy sword!"
Wherewithal the gate was opened, and they all passed out through the wall,
and stood above the ditch in the angle-nook of a square tower.
Then Ralph saw some of the men stoop and shoot out a broad
plank over the ditch, which was deep but not wide thereabout,
and straightway he followed the others over it, going last save Roger.
By then they were on the other side he saw a glimmer of the dawn in the
eastern heaven, but it was still more than dusk, and no man spoke again.
They went on softly across the plain fields outside the wall,
creeping from bush to bush, and from tree to tree, for here,
if nowhere about the circuit of the Burg, were a few trees growing.
Thus they came into a little wood and passed through it, and then
Ralph could see that the men were six besides Roger; by the glimmer
of the growing dawn he saw before them a space of meadows with high
hedges about them, and a dim line that he took for the roof of a barn
or grange, and beyond that a dark mass of trees.

Still they pressed on without speaking; a dog barked not far off
and the cocks were crowing, and close by them in the meadow a cow lowed
and went hustling over the bents and the long, unbitten buttercups.
Day grew apace, and by then they were under the barn-gable which he had seen
aloof he saw the other roofs of the grange and heard the bleating of sheep.
And now he saw those six men clearly, and noted that one of them was
very big and tall, and one small and slender, and it came into his mind
that these two were none other than the twain whom he had come upon
the last night sitting in the hall of the Flower de Luce.

Even therewith came a man to the gate of the sheep-cote by the grange,
and caught sight of them, and had the wits to run back at once shouting out:
"Hugh, Wat, Richard, and all ye, out with you, out a doors! Here be men!
Ware the Dry Tree! Bows and bills! Bows and bills!"

With that those fellows of Ralph made no more ado, but set off running
at their best toward the wood aforesaid, which crowned the slope
leading up from the grange, and now took no care to go softly,
nor heeded the clashing of their armour. Ralph ran with the best
and entered the wood alongside the slim youth aforesaid,
who stayed not at the wood's edge but went on running still:
but Ralph stayed and turned to see what was toward, and beheld
how that tall man was the last of their company, and ere he entered
the wood turned about with a bent bow in his hand, and even
as he nocked the shaft, the men from the Grange, who were seven
in all, came running out from behind the barn-gable, crying out:
"Ho thieves! ho ye of the Dry Tree, abide till we come! flee
not from handy strokes." The tall man had the shaft to his ear
in a twinkling, and loosed straightway, and nocked and loosed
another shaft without staying to note how the first had sped.
But Ralph saw that a man was before each of the shafts, and had
fallen to earth, though he had no time to see aught else, for even
therewith the tall man caught him by the hand, and crying out,
"The third time!" ran on with him after the rest of their company;
and whereas he was long-legged and Ralph lightfooted, they speedily
came up with them, who were running still, but laughing as they ran,
and jeering at the men of the Burgh; and the tall man shouted
out to them: "Yea, lads, the counterfeit Dry Tree that they
have raised in the Burg shall be dry enough this time."
"Truly," said another, "till we come to water it with the blood
of these wretches."

"Well, well, get on," said a third, "waste not your wind in talk;
those carles will make but a short run of it to the walls long
as it was for us, creeping and creeping as we behoved to."

The long man laughed; "Thou sayest sooth," said he,
"but thou art the longest winded of all in talking:
get on, lads."

They laughed again at his word and sped on with less noise;
while Ralph thought within himself that he was come into strange company,
for now he knew well that the big man was even he whom he had
first met at the churchyard gate of the thorp under Bear Hill.
Yet he deemed that there was nought for it now but to go on.

Within a while they all slacked somewhat, and presently did
but walk, though swiftly, through the paths of the thicket,
which Ralph deemed full surely was part of that side of the Wood
Perilous that lay south of the Burg of the Four Friths.
And now Roger joined himself to him, and spake to him aloud and said:
"So, fair master, thou art out of the peril of death for this bout."

"Art thou all so sure of that?" quoth Ralph, "or who are these that be
with us? meseems they smell of the Dry Tree."

"Yea, or rebels and runaways therefrom," said Roger, with a dry grin.
"But whosoever they may be, thou shalt see that they will suffer
us to depart whither we will, if we like not their company.
I will be thy warrant thereof."

"Moreover," said Ralph, "I have lost Falcon my horse;
it is a sore miss of him."

"Maybe," quoth Roger, "but at least thou hast saved thy skin; and whereas
there are many horses on the earth, there is but one skin of thine:
be content; if thou wilt, thou shall win somewhat in exchange
for thine horse."

Ralph smiled, but somewhat sourly, and even therewith he heard
a shrill whistle a little aloof, and the men stayed and held
their peace, for they were talking together freely again now.
Then the big man put his fingers to his mouth and whistled
again in answer, a third whistle answered him; and lo,
presently, as their company hastened on, the voices of men,
and anon they came into a little wood-lawn wherein standing
about or lying on the grass beside their horses were more than
a score of men well armed, but without any banner or token,
and all in white armour with white Gaberdines thereover;
and they had with them, as Ralph judged, some dozen of horses
more than they needed for their own riding.

Great was the joy at this meeting, and there was embracing and kissing
of friends: but Ralph noted that no man embraced that slender youth,
and that he held him somewhat aloof from the others, and all seemed
to do him reverence.

Now spake one of the runaways: "Well, lads, here be all we four
well met again along with those twain who came to help us at
our pinch, as their wont is, and Roger withal, good at need again,
and a friend of his, as it seemeth, and whom we know not.
See ye to that."

Then stood forth the big man and said: "He is a fair young knight,
as ye may see; and he rideth seeking adventures, and Roger did us to wit
that he was abiding in the Burg at his peril, and would have him away,
even if it were somewhat against his will: and we were willing that it
should be so, all the more as I have a guess concerning what he is;
and a foreseeing man might think that luck should go with him."
Therewith he turned to Ralph and said: "How say ye, fair sir,
will ye take guesting with us a while and learn our ways?"

Said Ralph: "Certain I am that whither ye will have me go,
thither must I; yet I deem that I have an errand that lies not your way.
Therefore if I go with you, ye must so look upon it that I am
in your fellowship as one compelled. To be short with you,
I crave leave to depart and go mine own road."

As he spoke he saw the youth walking up and down in short turns; but his face
he could scarce see at all, what for his slouched hat, what for his cloak;
and at last he saw him go up to the tall man and speak softly to him awhile.
The tall man nodded his head, and as the youth drew right back nigh to
the thicket, spake to Ralph again.

"Fair sir, we grant thine asking; and add this thereto that we give thee
the man who has joined himself to thee, Roger of the Rope-walk to wit, to help
thee on the road, so that thou mayst not turn thy face back to the Burg of
the Four Friths, where thine errand, and thy life withal, were soon sped now,
or run into any other trap which the Wood Perilous may have for thee.
And yet if thou think better of it, thou mayst come with us straightway;
for we have nought to do to tarry here any longer. And in any case,
here is a good horse that we will give thee, since thou hast lost thy steed;
and Roger who rideth with thee, he also is well horsed."

Ralph looked hard at the big man, who now had his salade thrown back
from his face, to see if he gave any token of jeering or malice,
but could see nought such: nay, his face was grave and serious,
not ill-fashioned, though it were both long and broad like his body:
his cheek-bones somewhat high, his eyes grey and middling great,
and looking, as it were, far away.

Now deems Ralph that as for a trap of the Wood Perilous,
he had already fallen into the trap; for he scarce needed to be
told that these were men of the Dry Tree. He knew also that it
was Roger who had led him into this trap, although he deemed it
done with no malice against him. So he said to himself that if
he went with Roger he but went a roundabout road to the Dry Tree;
so that he was well nigh choosing to go on with their company.
Yet again he thought that something might well befall which would
free him from that fellowship if he went with Roger alone;
whereas if he went with the others it was not that he might be,
but that he was already of the fellowship of the Dry Tree,
and most like would go straight thence to their stronghold.
So he spake as soberly as the tall man had done.

"Since ye give me the choice, fair sir, I will depart hence with Roger alone,
whom ye call my man, though to me he seemeth to be yours. Howbeit, he has
led me to you once, and belike will do so once more."

"Yea," quoth the big man smiling no whit more than erst,
"and that will make the fourth time. Depart then, fair sir,
and take this word with thee that I wish thee good and not evil."

CHAPTER 16

Ralph Rideth the Wood Perilous Again

Now Roger led up to Ralph a strong horse, red roan of hue, duly harnessed
for war, and he himself had a good grey horse, and they mounted at once,
and Ralph rode slowly away through the wood at his horse's will, for he was
pondering all that had befallen him, and wondering what next should hap.
Meanwhile those others had not loitered, but were a-horseback at once,
and went their ways from Ralph through the wildwood.

Nought spake Ralph for a while till Roger came close up to him and said:
"Whither shall we betake us, fair lord? hast thou an inkling of the road
whereon lies thine errand?"

Now to Ralph this seemed but mockery, and he answered sharply:
"I wot not, thou wilt lead whither thou wilt, even as thou hast trained
me hitherward with lies and a forged tale. I suppose thou wilt lead
me now by some roundabout road to the stronghold of the Dry Tree.
It matters little, since thou durst not lead me back into the Burg.
Yet now I come to think of it, it is evil to be alone with a found
out traitor and liar; and I had belike have done better to go
with their company."

"Nay nay," quoth Roger, "thou art angry, and I marvel not thereat;
but let thy wrath run off thee if thou mayest; for indeed what I
have told thee of myself and my griefs is not all mere lying.
Neither was it any lie that thou wert in peril of thy life amongst
those tyrants of the Burg; thou with thy manly bearing, and free
tongue, and bred, as I judge, to hate cruel deeds and injustice.
Such freedom they cannot away with in that fellowship of
hard men-at-arms; and soon hadst thou come to harm amongst them.
And further, let alone that it is not ill to be sundered
from yonder company, who mayhap will have rough work to do
or ever they win home, I have nought to do to bring thee
to Hampton under Scaur if thou hast no will to go thither:
though certes I would lead thee some whither, whereof thou
shalt ask me nought as now; yet will I say thereof this much,
that there thou shalt be both safe and well at ease.
Now lastly know this, that whatever I have done, I have done
it to do thee good and not ill; and there is also another one,
whom I will not name to thee, who wisheth thee better yet,
by the token of those two strokes stricken by thee in the Wood
Perilous before yesterday was a day."

Now when Ralph heard those last words, such strong and sweet hope
and desire stirred in him to see that woman of the Want-ways
of the Wood Perilous that he forgat all else, except that he must
nowise fall to strife with Roger, lest they should sunder,
and he should lose the help of him, which he now deemed would
bring him to sight of her whom he had unwittingly come to long
for more than aught else; so he spake to Roger quietly and humbly:
"Well, faring-fellow, thou seest how I am little more than
a lad, and have fallen into matters mighty and perilous,
which I may not deal with of my own strength, at least until
I get nigher to them so that I may look them in the eyes,
and strike a stroke or two on them if they be at enmity with me.
So I bid thee lead me whither thou wilt, and if thou be a traitor
to me, on thine own head be it; in good sooth, since I know
nought of this wood and since I might go astray and so come back
to the Burg where be those whom thou hast now made my foemen,
I am content to take thee on thy word, and to hope the best of thee,
and ask no question of thee, save whitherward."

"Fair sir," said Roger, "away from this place at least;
for we are as yet over nigh to the Burg to be safe:
but as to elsewhither we may wend, thereof we may speak on
the road as we have leisure."

Therewith he smote his horse with his heel and they went forward at
a smart trot, for the horses were unwearied, and the wood thereabouts
of beech and clear of underwood; and Roger seemed to know his way well,
and made no fumbling over it.

Four hours or more gone, the wood thinned and the beeches failed,
and they came to a country, still waste, of little low hills,
stony for the more part, beset with scraggy thorn-bushes, and here
and there some other berry-tree sown by the birds. Then said Roger:
"Now I deem us well out of the peril of them of the Burg, who if they
follow the chase as far as the sundering of us and the others,
will heed our slot nothing, but will follow on that of the company:
so we may breathe our horses a little, though their bait will be
but small in this rough waste: therein we are better off than they,
for lo you, saddle bags on my nag and meat and drink therein."

So they lighted down and let their horses graze what they could,
while they ate and drank; amidst which Ralph again asked Roger
of whither they were going. Said Roger: "I shall lead thee
to a good harbour, and a noble house of a master of mine,
wherein thou mayst dwell certain days, if thou hast a mind thereto,
not without solace maybe."

"And this master," said Ralph, "is he of the Dry Tree?"
Said Roger: "I scarce know how to answer thee without lying:
but this I say, that whether he be or not, this is true;
amongst those men I have friends and amongst them foes;
but fate bindeth me to them for a while." Said Ralph reddening:
"Be there any women amongst them?" "Yea, yea," quoth Roger,
smiling a little, "doubt not thereof."

"And that Lady of the Dry Tree," quoth Ralph, reddening yet more,
but holding up his head, "that woman whereof the Burgher spoke
so bitterly, threatening her with torments and death if they
might but lay hold of her; what wilt thou tell me concerning her?"
"But little," said Roger, "save this, that thou desirest to see her,
and that thou mayest have thy will thereon if thou wilt be
guided by me."

Ralph hearkened as if he heeded little what Roger said;
but presently he rose up and walked to and fro in short
turns with knit brows as one pondering a hard matter.
He spake nought, and Roger seemed to heed him nothing, though in
sooth he looked at him askance from time to time, till at last
he came and lay down again by Roger, and in a while he spake:
"I wot not why ye of the Dry Tree want me, or what ye will
do with me; and but for one thing I would even now ride away
from thee at all adventure."

Roger said: "All this ye shall learn later on, and shalt find it
but a simple matter; and meanwhile I tell thee again that all is
for thy gain and thy pleasure. So now ride away if thou wilt;
who hindereth thee? certes not I."

"Nay," said Ralph, "I will ride with thee first to that fair house;
and afterwards we shall see what is to hap." "Yea," quoth Roger,
"then let us to horse straightway, so that we may be there
if not before dark night yet at least before bright morn;
for it is yet far away."

CHAPTER 17

Ralph Cometh to the House of Abundance

Therewithal they gat to horse and rode away through that
stony land, wherein was no river, but for water many pools
in the bottoms, with little brooks running from them.
But after a while they came upon a ridge somewhat high,
on the further side whereof was a wide valley well-grassed and
with few trees, and no habitation of man that they might see.
But a wide river ran down the midst of it; and it was now four
hours after noon. Quoth Roger: "The day wears and we shall by no
means reach harbour before dark night, even if we do our best:
art thou well used to the water, lord?" "Much as a mallard is,"
said Ralph. Said Roger: "That is well, for though there is
a ford some mile and a half down stream, for that same reason it
is the way whereby men mostly cross the water into the wildwood;
and here again we are more like to meet foes than well-wishers;
or at the least there will be question of who we are, and whence
and whither; and we may stumble in our answers." Said Ralph:
"There is no need to tarry, ride we down to the water."

So did they, and took the water, which was deep, but not swift.
On the further side they clomb up a hill somewhat steep;
at the crown they drew rein to give their horses breath,
and Ralph turned in his saddle and looked down on to the valley,
and as aforesaid he was clear-sighted and far-sighted; now he said:
"Fellow-farer, I see the riding of folk down below there,
and meseems they be spurring toward the water; and they have weapons:
there! dost thou not see the gleam?"

"I will take thy word for it, fair sir," said Roger, "and will even spur,
since they be the first men whom we have seen since we left the thickets."
And therewith he went off at a hand gallop, and Ralph followed him
without more ado.

They rode up hill and down dale of a grassy downland, till at
last they saw a wood before them again, and soon drew rein
under the boughs; for now were their horses somewhat wearied.
Then said Ralph: "Here have we ridden a fair land, and seen
neither house nor herd, neither sheep-cote nor shepherd.
I wonder thereat."

Said Roger: "Thou wouldst wonder the less didst thou know the story of it."
"What story?" said Ralph. Quoth Roger: "A story of war and wasting."
"Yea?" said Ralph, "yet surely some bold knight or baron hath rights
in the land, and might be free to build him a strong house and gather men
to him to guard the shepherds and husbandmen from burners and lifters."
"Sooth is that," said Roger; "but there are other things in the tale."
"What things?" said Ralph. Quoth Roger: "Ill hap and sorrow
and the Hand of Fate and great Sorcery." "And dastards withal?"
said Ralph. "Even so," said Roger, "yet mingled with valiant men.
Over long is the tale to tell as now, so low as the sun is;
so now ride we on with little fear of foemen. For look you, this wood,
like the thickets about the Burg of the Four Friths, hath an evil name,
and few folk ride it uncompelled; therefore it is the safer for us.
And yet I will say this to thee, that whereas awhile agone thou mightest
have departed from me with little peril of aught save the stumbling
on some of the riders of the Burg of the Four Friths, departing from me
now will be a hard matter to thee; for the saints in Heaven only know
whitherward thou shouldest come, if thou wert to guide thyself now.
This a rough word, but a true one, so help me God and Saint Michael!
What sayest thou; art thou content, or wilt thou cast hard words
at me again?"

So it was that for all that had come and gone Ralph
was light-hearted and happy; so he laughed and said:
"Content were I, even if I were not compelled thereto.
For my heart tells me of new things, and marvellous and joyous
that I shall see ere long."

"And thine heart lieth not," said Roger, "for amidst of this
wood is the house where we shall have guesting to-night, which
will be to thee, belike, the door of life and many marvels.
For thence have folk sought ere now to the WELL AT THE WORLD'S END."

Ralph turned to him sharply and said: "Many times in these few days have
I heard that word. Dost thou know the meaning thereof? For as to me I
know it not." Said Roger: "Thou mayest well be as wise as I am thereon:
belike men seek to it for their much thriving, and oftenest find it not.
Yet have I heard that they be the likeliest with whom all women are in love."

Ralph held his peace, but Roger noted that he reddened at the word.

Now they got on horseback again, for they had lighted down to breathe
their beasts, and they rode on and on, and never was Roger at fault:
long was the way and perforce they rested at whiles, so that night
fell upon them in the wood, but the moon rose withal. So night being
fairly come, they rested a good while, as it would be dawn before moonset.
Then they rode on again, till now the summer night grew old and waned,
but the wood hid the beginnings of dawn.

At last they came out of the close wood suddenly into an open plain,
and now, as the twilight of the dawn was passing into early day,
they saw that wide grassy meadows and tilled fields lay before them,
with a little river running through the plain; and amidst the meadows,
on a green mound, was a white castle, strong, and well built,
though not of the biggest.

Roger pointed to it, and said, "Now we are come home," and cried on his
wearied beast, who for his part seemed to see the end of his journey.
They splashed through a ford of the river and came to the gate of the castle
as day drew on apace; Roger blew a blast on a great horn that hung
on the gate, and Ralph looking round deemed he had never seen fairer
building than in the castle, what he could see of it, and yet it was
built from of old. They waited no long while before they were answered;
but whereas Ralph looked to see armed gatewards peer from the battlements
or the shot window, and a porter espying them through a lattice,
it happened in no such way, but without more ado the wicket was opened
to them by a tall old woman, gaunt and grey, who greeted them courteously:
Roger lighted down and Ralph did in likewise, and they led their horses
through the gate into the court of the castle; the old woman going
before them till they came to the hall door, which she opened to them,
and taking the reins of their horses led them away to the stable,
while those twain entered the hall, which was as goodly as might be.
Roger led Ralph up to a board on the dais, whereon there was meat and
drink enow, and Ralph made his way-leader sit down by him, and they fell to.
There was no serving-man to wait on them nor a carle of any kind did they see;
the old woman only, coming back from the horses, served them at table.
Ever as she went about she looked long on Ralph, and seemed as if she
would have spoken to him, but as often, she glanced at Roger and forbore.

So when they were well nigh done with their meat Ralph spake to the carline
and said: "Belike the lord or the lady of this house are abed and we shall
not see them till the morrow?"

Ere the carline could speak Roger broke in and said:
"There is neither lord nor lady in the castle as now, nor belike
will there be to-morrow morning, or rather, before noon on this day;
so now ye were better to let this dame lead thee to bed,
and let the next hours take care of themselves."

"So be it," said Ralph, who was by this time heartily wearied,
"shall we two lie in the same chamber?"

"Nay," said the carline shortly, "lodging for the master and lodging
for the man are two different things."

Roger laughed and said nought, and Ralph gave him good night,
and followed the carline nothing loth, who led him to a fair
chamber over the solar, as if he had been the very master of
the castle, and he lay down in a very goodly bed, nor troubled
himself as to where Roger lay, nor indeed of aught else,
nor did he dream of Burg, or wood, or castle, or man, or woman;
but lay still like the image of his father's father on the painted
tomb in the choir of St. Laurence of Upmeads.

CHAPTER 18

Of Ralph in the Castle of Abundance

Broad lay the sun upon the plain amidst the wildwood when
he awoke and sprang out of bed and looked out of the window
(for the chamber was in the gable of the hall and there was nought
of the castle beyond it). It was but little after noon of a fair
June day, for Ralph had slumbered as it behoved a young man.
The light wind bore into the chamber the sweet scents of
the early summer, the chief of all of them being the savour
of the new-cut grass, for about the wide meadows the carles
and queens were awork at the beginning of hay harvest;
and late as it was in the day, more than one blackbird
was singing from the bushes of the castle pleasance.
Ralph sighed for very pleasure of life before he had yet
well remembered where he was or what had befallen of late;
but as he stood at the window and gazed over the meadows,
and the memory of all came back to him, he sighed once
more for a lack of somewhat that came into his heart,
and he smiled shamefacedly, though there was no one near,
as his thought bade him wonder if amongst the haymaking women
yonder there were any as fair as those yellow-clad thrall-women
of the Burg; and as he turned from the window a new hope
made his heart beat, for he deemed that he had been brought
to that house that he might meet some one who should change
his life and make him a new man.

So he did on his raiment and went his ways down to the hall, and looked
about for Roger, but found him not, nor any one else save the carline,
who presently came in from the buttery, and of whom he asked,
where was Roger. Quoth she: "He has been gone these six hours,
but hath left a word for thee, lord, to wit, that he beseeches thee
to abide him here for two days at the least, and thereafter thou
art free to go if thou wilt. But as for me" (and therewith she
smiled on him as sweetly as her wrinkled old face might compass)
"I say to thee, abide beyond those two days if Roger cometh not,
and as long as thou art here I will make thee all the cheer I may.
And who knoweth but thou mayest meet worthy adventures here.
Such have ere now befallen good knights in this house or anigh it."

"I thank thee, mother," quoth Ralph, "and it is like that I may abide
here beyond the two days if the adventure befall me not ere then.
But at least I will bide the eating of my dinner here to-day."

"Well is thee, fair lord," said the carline. "If thou wilt but walk
in the meadow but a little half hour all shall be ready for thee.
Forsooth it had been dight before now, but that I waited thy coming
forth from thy chamber, for I would not wake thee. And the saints be
praised for the long sweet sleep that hath painted thy goodly cheeks."
So saying she hurried off to the buttery, leaving Ralph laughing
at her outspoken flattering words.

Then he got him out of the hall and the castle, for no door was shut,
and there was no man to be seen within or about the house.
So he walked to and fro the meadow and saw the neat-herds in
the pasture, and the hay-making folk beyond them, and the sound
of their voices came to him on the little airs that were breathing.
He thought he would talk to some of these folk ere the world
was much older, and also he noted between the river and the wood
many cots of the husbandmen trimly builded and thatched,
and amidst them a little church, white and delicate of fashion;
but as now his face was set toward the river because of the hot day.
He came to a pool a little below where a wooden foot-bridge
crossed the water, and about the pool were willows growing,
which had not been shrouded these eight years, and the water
was clear as glass with a bottom of fine sand. There then
he bathed him, and as he sported in the water he bethought him
of the long smooth reaches of Upmeads Water, and the swimming
low down amidst the long swinging weeds between the chuckle of
the reed sparrows, when the sun was new risen in the July morning.
When he stood on the grass again, what with the bright weather
and fair little land, what with the freshness of the water,
and his good rest, and the hope of adventure to come, he felt
as if he had never been merrier in his life-days. Withal it
was a weight off his heart that he had escaped from the turmoil
of the wars of the Burg of the Four Friths, and the men
of the Dry Tree, and the Wheat-wearers, with the thralldom
and stripes and fire-raising, and the hard life of strife
and gain of the walled town and strong place.

When he came back to the castle gate there was the carline in the wicket
peering out to right and left, seeking him to bring him in to dinner.
And when she saw him so joyous, with his lips smiling and his eyes dancing
for mirth, she also became joyous, and said: "Verily, it is a pity of thee
that there is never a fair damsel or so to look on thee and love thee
here to-day. Far would many a maiden run to kiss thy mouth, fair lad.
But now come to thy meat, that thou mayest grow the fairer and
last the longer."

He laughed gaily and went into the hall with her, and now was it
well dight with bankers and dorsars of goodly figured cloth,
and on the walls a goodly halling of arras of the Story of Alexander.
So he sat to table, and the meat and drink was of the best,
and the carline served him, praising him ever with fulsome words
as he ate, till he wished her away.

After dinner he rested awhile, and called to the carline and bade
her bring him his sword and his basnet. "Wherefore?" said she.
"Whither wilt thou?"

Said he, "I would walk abroad to drink the air."

"Wilt thou into the wildwood?" said she.

"Nay, mother," he said, "I will but walk about the meadow and look
on the hay-making folk."

"For that," said the carline, "thou needest neither sword nor helm.
I was afeard that thou wert about departing, and thy departure would
be a grief to my heart: in the deep wood thou mightest be so bestead
as to need a sword in thy fist; but what shouldst thou do with it
in this Plain of Abundance, where are nought but peaceful husbandmen
and frank and kind maidens? and all these are as if they had drunk
a draught of the WELL AT THE WORLD'S END."

Ralph started as she said the word, but held his peace awhile.
Then he said: "And who is lord of this fair land?"
"There is no lord, but a lady," said the carline.
"How hight she?" said Ralph. "We call her the Lady of Abundance,"
said the old woman. Said Ralph: "Is she a good lady?"
"She is my lady," said the carline, "and doeth good to me,
and there is not a carle in the land but speaketh well of her--
it may be over well." "Is she fair to look on?" said Ralph.
"Of women-folk there is none fairer," said the carline;
"as to men, that is another thing."

Ralph was silent awhile, then he said: "What is the Well
at the World's End?"

"They talk of it here," said she, "many things too long to tell
of now: but there is a book in this house that telleth of it;
I know it well by the look of it though I may not read in it.
I will seek it for thee to-morrow if thou wilt."

"Have thou thanks, dame," said he; "and I pray thee forget it not;
but now I will go forth."

"Yea," said the carline, "but abide a little."

Therewith she went into the buttery, and came back bearing
with her a garland of roses of the garden, intermingled with
green leaves, and she said: "The sun is yet hot and over hot,
do this on thine head to shade thee from the burning.
I knew that thou wouldst go abroad to-day, so I made this
for thee in the morning; and when I was young I was called
the garland-maker. It is better summer wear than thy basnet."

He thanked her and did it on smiling, but somewhat ruefully;
for he said to himself: "This is over old a dame that I should
wear a love-token from her." But when it was on his head, the old
dame clapped her hands and cried: "O there, there! Now art thou
like the image of St. Michael in the Choir of Our Lady of the Thorn:
there is none so lovely as thou. I would my Lady could see
thee thus; surely the sight of thee should gladden her heart.
And withal thou art not ill clad otherwise."

Indeed his raiment was goodly, for his surcoat was new,
and it was of fine green cloth, and the coat-armour of Upmead
was beaten on it, to wit, on a gold ground an apple-tree fruited,
standing by a river-side.

Now he laughed somewhat uneasily at her words, and so went forth
from the castle again, and made straight for the hay-making folk
on the other side of the water; for all this side was being
fed by beasts and sheep; but at the point where he crossed,
the winding of the stream brought it near to the castle gate.
So he came up with the country folk and greeted them,
and they did as much by him in courteous words:
they were goodly and well-shapen, both men and women, gay and
joyous of demeanour and well clad as for folk who work afield.
So Ralph went from one to another and gave them a word or two,
and was well pleased to watch them at their work awhile; but yet
he would fain speak somewhat more with one or other of them.
At last under the shade of a tall elm-tree he saw an old man
sitting heeding the outer raiment of the haymakers and their
victual and bottles of drink; and he came up to him and gave
him the sele of the day; and the old man blessed him and said:
"Art thou dwelling in my lady's castle, fair lord?"
"A while at least," said Ralph. Said the old man:
"We thank thee for coming to see us; and meseemeth from the look
of thee thou art worthy to dwell in my Lady's House."

"What sayest thou?" said Ralph. "Is she a good lady and a gracious?"
"O yea, yea," said the carle. Said Ralph: "Thou meanest, I suppose,
that she is fair to look on, and soft-spoken when she is pleased?"

"I mean far more than that," said the carle; "surely is she
most heavenly fair, and her voice is like the music of heaven:
but withal her deeds, and the kindness of her to us poor
men and husbandmen, are no worse than should flow forth
from that loveliness."

"Will you be her servants?" said Ralph, "or what are ye?" Said the carle:
"We be yeomen and her vavassors; there is no thralldom in our land."
"Do ye live in good peace for the more part?" said Ralph.
Said the carle: "Time has been when cruel battles were fought
in these wood-lawns, and many poor people were destroyed therein:
but that was before the coming of the Lady of Abundance."

"And when was that?" said Ralph. "I wot not," said the old carle;
"I was born in peace and suckled in peace; and in peace
I fell to the loving of maidens, and I wedded in peace,
and begat children in peace, and in peace they dwell about me,
and in peace shall I depart."

"What then," said Ralph (and a grievous fear was born in his
heart), "is not the Lady of Abundance young?" Said the carle:
"I have seen her when I was young and also since I have been old,
and ever was she fair and lovely, and slender handed, as straight
as a spear, and as sweet as white clover, and gentle-voiced and kind,
and dear to our souls."

"Yea," said Ralph, "and she doth not dwell in this castle always;
where else then doth she dwell?" "I wot not," said the carle,
"but it should be in heaven: for when she cometh to us all our joys
increase in us by the half."

"Look you, father," said Ralph, "May it not have been more than one Lady
of Abundance that thou hast seen in thy life-days; and that this one
that now is, is the daughter's daughter of the one whom thou first sawest--
how sayest thou?" The carle laughed: "Nay, nay," said he, "It is not so:
never has there been another like to her in all ways, in body and voice,
and heart and soul. It is as I say, she is the same as she was always."
"And when," said Ralph, with a beating heart, "does she come hither?
Is it at some set season?" "Nay, from time to time, at all seasons,"
said the carle; "and as fair she is when she goeth over the snow,
as when her feet are set amidst the June daisies."

Now was Ralph so full of wonder that he scarce knew what to say;
but he bethought him of that fair waste on the other side of the forest,
the country through which that wide river flowed, so he said:
"And that land north-away beyond the wildwood, canst thou tell
me the tale of its wars, and if it were wasted in the same
wars that tormented this land?" The carle shook his head:
"As to the land beyond this wood," quoth he, "I know nought of it,
for beyond the wood go we never: nay, most often we go but a little
way into it, no further than we can see the glimmer of the open
daylight through its trees,--the daylight of the land of Abundance--
that is enough for us."

"Well," said Ralph, "I thank thee for the tale thou hast told me,
and wish thee more years of peace."

"And to thee, young man," said the carle, "I wish a good wish indeed, to wit
that thou mayest see the Lady of Abundance here before thou departest."

His words once more made Ralph's heart beat and his cheek flush,
and he went back to the castle somewhat speedily; for he said
to himself, after the folly of lovers, "Maybe she will be come
even now, and I not there to meet her." Yet when he came to the
castle-gate his heart misgave him, and he would not enter at once,
but turned about to go round the wall by the north and west.
In the castle he saw no soul save the old dame looking
out of the window and nodding to him, but in the pasture
all about were neatherds and shepherds, both men and women;
and at the north-west corner, whereas the river drew quite close
to the wall, he came upon two damsels of the field-folk fishing
with an angle in a quiet pool of the stream. He greeted them,
and they, who were young and goodly, returned his greeting,
but were shamefaced at his gallant presence, as indeed was he at
the thoughts of his heart mingled with the sight of their fairness.
So he passed on at first without more words than his greeting.
Yet presently he turned back again, for he longed to hear
some word more concerning the Lady whose coming he abode.
They stood smiling and blushing as he came up to them again,
and heeded their angles little.

Said Ralph: "Fair maidens, do ye know at all when the Lady of the castle
may be looked for?" They were slow to answer, but at last one said:
"No, fair sir, such as we know nothing of the comings and goings
of great folk."

Said Ralph, smiling on her for kindness, and pleasure of her fairness:
"Is it not so that ye will be glad of her coming?"

But she answered never a word, only looked at him steadily,
with her great grey eyes fixed in wonderment, while the other
one looked down as if intent on her angling tools.

Ralph knew not how to ask another question, so he turned about with a greeting
word again, and this time went on steadily round about the wall.

And now in his heart waxed the desire of that Lady, once seen,
as he deemed, in such strange wise; but he wondered within
himself if the devil had not sown that longing within him:
whereas it might be that this woman on whom he had set
his heart was herself no real woman but a devil, and one
of the goddesses of the ancient world, and his heart
was sore and troubled by many doubts and hopes and fears;
but he said to himself that when he saw her then could he judge
between the good and the evil, and could do or forbear,
and that the sight of her would cure all.

Thus thinking he walked swiftly, and was soon round at
the castle gate again, and entered, and went into the hall,
where was the old dame, busied about some household matter.
Ralph nodded to her and hastened away, lest she should fall
to talk with him; and he set himself now to go from chamber
to chamber, that he might learn the castle, what it was.
He came into the guard-chamber and found the walls thereof all hung
with armour and weapons, clean and in good order, though there
was never a man-at-arms there, nor any soul except the old woman.
He went up a stair therefrom on to the battlements,
and went into the towers of the wall, and found weapons
both for hand, and for cast and shot in each one of them,
and all ready as if for present battle; then he came down
into the court again and went into a very goodly ambulatory
over against the hall, and he entered a door therefrom,
which was but on the latch, and went up a little stair into
a chamber, which was the goodliest and the richest of all.
Its roof was all done with gold and blue from over sea,
and its pavement wrought delicately in Alexandrine work.
On the dais was a throne of carven ivory, and above it a canopy
of baudekin of the goodliest fashion, and there was a foot-carpet
before it, wrought with beasts and the hunting of the deer.
As for the walls of that chamber, they were hung with a
marvellous halling of arras, wherein was wrought the greenwood,
and there amidst in one place a pot-herb garden, and a green garth
with goats therein, and in that garth a little thatched house.
And amidst all this greenery were figured over and over again
two women, whereof one old and the other young; and the old
one was clad in grand attire, with gold chains and brooches
and rings, and sat with her hands before her by the house door,
or stood looking on as the young one worked, spinning or digging
in the garth, or milking the goats outside of it, or what not;
and this one was clad in sorry and scanty raiment.

What all this might mean Ralph knew not; but when he had looked
long at the greenery and its images, he said to himself that if
he who wrought that cloth had not done the young woman after
the likeness of the Lady whom he had helped in the wildwood,
then it must have been done from her twin sister.

Long he abode in that chamber looking at the arras,
and wondering whether the sitter in the ivory throne
would be any other than the thrall in the greenwood cot.
He abode there so long that the dusk began to gather in the house,
and he could see the images no more; for he was filled with
the sweetness of desire when he looked on them.

Then he went back slowly to the hall, and found the carline, who had
lighted the waxlights and made meat ready for him; and when she saw
him she cried out joyously: "Ah, I knew that thou wouldst come back.
Art thou well content with our little land?"

"I like it well, dame," said he; "but tell me, if thou canst, what is
the meaning of the halling in the chamber with the ivory throne?"

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