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The Well at the World's End by William Morris

Part 5 out of 11

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I was sorry of the departure of the damsel; for though I was a boy I
had loved her, and she had suffered me to kiss her and toy with her;
but it was soon over. Now I call to mind that they had prayed our priest,
Sir Cyprian, to bless them on their departure, but he naysaid them;
for he held that such a quest came of the inspiration of the devils,
and was but a memory of the customs of the ancient gentiles and heathen.
But as to me, I deemed it naught, and was sorry that my white-bosomed,
sweet-breathed friend should walk away from me thus into the clouds."

"What came of it?" said Ralph, "did they come back, or any of them?"
"I wot not," said Richard, "for I was weary of Swevenham after that,
so I girt myself to a sword and laid a spear upon my shoulder
and went my ways to the Castle of the Waste March, sixty miles
from Swevenham town, and the Baron took me in and made me his man:
and almost as little profit were in my telling thee again of my
deeds there, as there was in my doing them: but the grey tower
of Swevenham I have never seen again till this hour."

Said Ralph: "Now then it behoveth me to go to Swevenham straightway:
wilt thou come with me? it seemeth to be but some four miles hence."

Richard held his peace and knit his brows as if pondering
the matter, and Ralph abided till he spake: so he said:
"Foster-son, so to call thee, thou knowest the manner
of up-country carles, that tales flow forth from them
the better if they come without over much digging
and hoeing of the ground; that is, without questioning;
so meseems better it will be if I go to Swevenham alone,
and better if I be asked to go, than if I go of myself.
Now to-morrow is Saturday, and high market in Whitwall;
and I am not so old but that it is likeliest that there will
be some of my fellows alive and on their legs in Swevenham:
and if such there be, there will be one at the least in
the market to-morrow, and I will be there to find him out:
and then it will go hard if he bring me not to Swevenham as a
well-beloved guest; and when I am there, and telling my tidings,
and asking them of theirs, if there be any tales concerning
the Well at the World's End working in their bellies, then shall
I be the midwife to bring them to birth. Ha? Will it do?"

"Yea," said Ralph, "but how long wilt thou be?" Said Richard:
"I shall come back speedily if I find the land barren;
but if the field be in ear I shall tarry to harvest it.
So keep thou thy soul in patience." "And what shall I do now?"
said Ralph. "Wear away the hours," said Richard.
And to begin with, come back within the gates with me and let
us go look at thy brother's booth in the market-place: it is
the nethermost of a goodly house which he is minded to dwell in;
and he will marry a wife and sit down in Whitwall, so well
he seemeth like to thrive; for they have already bidden him to
the freedom of the city, and to a brother of the Faring-Knights,
whereas he is not only a stirring man, but of good lineage also:
for now he hideth not that he is of the Upmeads kindred."

CHAPTER 14

Ralph Falleth in With Another Old Friend

Ralph went with Richard now without more words, and they came
into the market-place and unto Blaise's booth and house,
which was no worse than the best in the place; and the painters
and stainers were at work on the upper part of it to make it as
bright and goodly as might be with red and blue and green and gold,
and all fair colours, and already was there a sign hung out of
the fruitful tree by the water-side. As for the booth, it was full
within of many wares and far-fetched and dear-bought things;
as pieces of good and fine cloth plumbed with the seal of
the greatest of the cities; and silk of Babylon, and spices
of the hot burning islands, and wonders of the silversmith's
and the goldsmith's fashioning, and fair-wrought weapons and armour
of the best, and every thing that a rich chapman may deal in.
And amidst of it all stood Blaise clad in fine black cloth
welted with needle work, and a gold chain about his neck.
He was talking with three honourable men of the Port, and they
were doing him honour with kind words and the bidding of help.
When he saw Ralph and Richard come in, he nodded to them,
as to men whom he loved, but were beneath him in dignity,
and left not talking with the great men. Richard grinned
a little thereat, as also did Ralph in his heart; for he thought:
"Here then is one of the Upmeads kin provided for, so that soon
he may buy with his money two domains as big as Upmeads and call
them his manors."

Now Ralph looks about him, and presently he sees a man come
forward to meet him from the innermost of the booth, and lo! there
was come Clement Chapman. His heart rose at the sight of him,
and he thought of his kind gossip till he could scarce withhold
his tears. But Clement came to him and cast his arms about him,
and kissed him, and said: "Thou shalt pardon me for this, lord,
for it is the kiss of the gossip which she bade me give thee,
if I fell in with thee, as now I have, praised be the Saints!
Yet it irks me that I shall see little more of thee at this time,
for to-morrow early I must needs join myself to my company;
for we are going south awhile to a good town some fifty
miles hence. Nevertheless, if thou dwellest here some eight
days I shall see thee again belike, since thereafter I get
me eastward on a hard and long journey not without peril.
How sayest thou?"

"I wot not," quoth Ralph looking at Richard. Said Richard:
"Thou mayst wot well, master Clement, that my lord is anhungered
of the praise of the folks, and is not like to abide in a mere
merchant-town till the mould grow on his back." "Well, well,"
said Clement, "however that may be, I have now done my matters
with this cloth-lord, Blaise, and he has my florins in his pouch:
so will not ye twain come with me and drink a cup till he hath
done his talk with these magnates?"

Ralph was nothing loth, for besides that he loved master Clement,
and that his being in company was like having a piece of his home anigh him,
he hoped to hear some tidings concerning the Well at the World's End.

So he and Richard went with master Clement to the Christopher, a fair
ale-house over against the Great Church, and sat down to good wine;
and Ralph asked of Clement many things concerning dame Katherine his gossip,
and Clement told him all, and that she was well, and had been to Upmeads,
and had seen King Peter and the mother of Ralph; and how she had assuaged
his mother's grief at his departure by forecasting fair days for her son.
All this Ralph heard gladly, though he was somewhat shamefaced withal, and sat
silent and thinking of many matters. But Richard took up the word and said:
"Which way camest thou from Wulstead, master Clement?" "The nighest way
I came," said Clement, "through the Woods Perilous." Said Richard:
"And they of the Dry Tree, heardest thou aught of them?" "Yea, certes,"
quoth Clement, "for I fell in with their Bailiff, and paid him due scot
for the passage of the Wood; he knoweth me withal, and we talked together."
"And had he any tidings to tell thee of the champions?" said Richard.
Said Clement, "Great tidings maybe, how that there was a rumour that they
had lost their young Queen and Lady; and if that be true, it will go nigh
to break their hearts, so sore as they loved her. And that will make them
bitter and fierce, till their grief has been slaked by the blood of men.
And that the more as their old Queen abideth still, and she herself is ever
of that mind."

Ralph hearkened, and his heart was wounded that other men should speak
of his beloved: but he heard how Richard said: "Hast thou ever known why
that company of champions took the name of the Dry Tree?" "Why, who should
know that, if thou knowest it not, Richard of Swevenham?" said Clement:
"Is it not by the token of the Dry Tree that standeth in the lands on
the hither side of the Wall of the World?" Richard nodded his head; but Ralph
cried out: "O Master Clement, and hast thou seen it, the Wall of the World?"
"Yea, afar off, my son," said he; "or what the folk with me called so;
as to the Dry Tree, I have told thee at Wulstead that I have seen it not,
though I have known men who have told me that they have seen it."
"And must they who find the Well at the World's End come by the Dry Tree?"
"Yea, surely," said Clement. Quoth Richard: "And thus have some heard,
who have gone on that quest, and they have heard of the Champions of Hampton,
and have gone thither, being deceived by that name of the Dry Tree, and whiles
have been slain by the champions, whiles have entered their company."
"Yea," said Clement, "so it is that their first error hath ended their quest.
But now, lord Ralph, I will tell thee one thing; to wit, that when I return
hither after eight days wearing, I shall be wending east, as I said e'en now,
and what will that mean save going somewhat nigher to the Wall of the World;
for my way lieth beyond the mountains that ye see from hence, and beyond
the mountains that lie the other side of those; and I bid thee come
with us, and I will be thy warrant that so far thou shalt have no harm:
but when thou hast come so far, and hast seen three very fair cities,
besides towns and castles and thorps and strange men, and fair merchandize,
God forbid that thou shouldest wend further, and so cast away thy young
life for a gay-coloured cloud. Then will be the time to come back with me,
that I may bring thee through the perils of the way to Wulstead, and Upmeads
at the last, and the folk that love thee."

Richard held his peace at this word, but Ralph said:
"I thank thee, Master Clement, for thy love and thy helping hand;
and will promise thee to abide thee here eight days at the least;
and meanwhile I will ponder the matter well."

CHAPTER 15

Ralph Dreams a Dream Or Sees a Vision

Therewithall they parted after more talk concerning small matters,
and Ralph wore through the day, but Richard again did him to wit, that on
the morrow he would find his old friends of Swevenham in the Market.
And Ralph was come to life again more than he had been since that evil
hour in the desert; though hard and hard he deemed it that he should
never see his love again.

Now as befalleth young men, he was a good sleeper, and dreamed but seldom,
save such light and empty dreams as he might laugh at, if perchance
he remembered them by then his raiment was on him in the morning.
But that night him-seemed that he awoke in his chamber at Whitwall,
and was lying on his bed, as he verily was, and the door of the
chamber opened, and there entered quietly the Lady of the Woodland,
dight even as he had seen her as she lay dead beside their cooking fire
on that table of greensward in the wilderness, barefoot and garlanded
about her brow and her girdlestead, but fair and fresh coloured
as she was before the sword had pierced her side; and he thought
that he rejoiced to see her, but no wild hope rose in his heart,
and no sobbing passion blinded his eyes, nor did he stretch
out hand to touch her, because he remembered that she was dead.
But he thought she spake to him and said: "I know that thou wouldst
have me speak, therefore I say that I am come to bid thee farewell,
since there was no farewell between us in the wilderness, and I know
that thou are about going on a long and hard and perilous journey:
and I would that I could kiss thee and embrace thee, but I may not,
for this is but the image of me as thou hast known me. Furthermore, as I
loved thee when I saw thee first, for thy youth, and thy fairness,
and thy kindness and thy valiancy, so now I rejoice that all this
shall endure so long in thee, as it surely shall."

Then the voice ceased, but still the image stood before him awhile,
and he wondered if she would speak again, and tell him aught
of the way to the Well at the World's End; and she spake again:
"Nay," she said, "I cannot, since we may not tread the way together
hand in hand; and this is part of the loss that thou hast had of me;
and oh! but it is hard and hard." And her face became sad and distressful,
and she turned and departed as she had come.

Then he knew not if he awoke, or if it were a change in his dream;
but the chamber became dark about him, and he lay there thinking
of her, till, as it seemed, day began to dawn, and there was some little
stir in the world without, and the new wind moved the casement.
And again the door opened, and someone entered as before; and this
also was a woman: green-clad she was and barefoot, yet he knew at once
that it was not his love that was dead, but the damsel of the ale-house
of Bourton, whom he had last seen by the wantways of the Wood Perilous,
and he thought her wondrous fair, fairer than he had deemed.
And the word came from her: "I am a sending of the woman whom thou
hast loved, and I should not have been here save she had sent me."
Then the words ended, while he looked at her and wondered if she
also had died on the way to the Well at the World's End. And it
came into his mind that he had never known her name upon the earth.
Then again came the word: "So it is that I am not dead but alive
in the world, though I am far away from this land; and it is good
that thou shouldst go seek the Well at the World's End not all alone:
and the seeker may find me: and whereas thou wouldst know my name,
I hight Dorothea."

So fell the words again: and this image stood awhile as the other had done,
and as the other had done, departed, and once more the chamber became dark,
so that Ralph could not so much as see where was the window, and he knew
no more till he woke in the early morn, and there was stir in the street
and the voice of men, and the scent of fresh herbs and worts, and fruits;
for it was market-day, and the country folk were early afoot, that they
might array their wares timely in the market-place.

CHAPTER 16

Of the Tales of Swevenham

Old Richard was no worse than his word, and failed not to find
old acquaintance of Swevenham in the Saturday's market:
and Ralph saw naught of him till midweek afterwards. And he was
sitting in the chamber of the hostel when Richard came in to him.
Forsooth Blaise had bidden him come dwell in his fair house,
but Ralph would not, deeming that he might be hindered in his quest
and be less free to go whereso he would, if he were dwelling
with one who was so great with the magnates as was Blaise.

Now Ralph was reading in a book when Richard came in,
but he stood up and greeted him; and Richard said smiling:
"What have ye found in the book, lord?" Said Ralph:
"It telleth of the deeds of Alexander." "Is there aught
concerning the Well at the World's End therein?" said Richard.
"I have not found aught thereof as yet," said Ralph;
"but the book tells concerning the Dry Tree, and of kings
sitting in their chairs in the mountains nearby."

"Well then," said Richard, "maybe thou wilt think me the better tale-teller."
"Tell on then," quoth Richard. So they went and sat them down in a window,
and Richard said:

"When I came to Swevenham with two old men that I had known young, the folk
made much of me, and made me good cheer, whereof were over long to tell thee;
but to speak shortly, I drew the talk round to the matter that we would
wot of: for we spake of the Men of the Dry Tree, and an old man began to say,
as master Clement the other day, that this name of theirs was but a token
and an armoury which those champions have taken from the Tree itself,
which Alexander the Champion saw in his wayfarings; and he said that this
tree was on the hither side of the mountains called the Wall of the World,
and no great way from the last of the towns whereto Clement will wend;
for Clement told me the name thereof, to wit, Goldburg. Then another
and an older man, one that I remember a stout carle ere I left Swevenham,
said that this was not so, but that the Tree was on the further side
of the Wall of the World, and that he who could lay his hand on the bole
thereof was like enough to drink of the Well at the World's End.
Thereafter another spake, and told a tale of how the champions at Hampton
first took the Dry Tree for a token; and he said that the rumour ran,
that a woman had brought the tidings thereof to those valiant men,
and had fixed the name upon them, though wherefore none knew.
So the talk went on.

"But there was a carline sitting in the ingle, and she knew me and I her.
And indeed in days past, when I was restless and longing to depart, she might
have held me at Swevenham, for she was one of the friends that I loved there:
a word and a kiss had done it, or maybe the kiss without the word:
but if I had the word, I had not the kiss of her. Well, when the talk began
to fall, she spake and said to me:

"'Now it is somewhat strange that the talk must needs fall on this seeking
of that which shall not be found, whereas it was but the month before thou
wert last at Swevenham, that Wat Miller and Simon Bowyer set off to seek
the Well at the World's End, and took with them Alice of Queenhough,
whom Simon loved as well as might be, and Wat somewhat more than well.
Mindest thou not? There are more than I alive that remember it.'

"'Yea,' said I, 'I remember it well.'

"For indeed, foster-son, these were the very three of whom I told thee,
though I told thee not their names.

"'Well,' said I; 'how sped they? Came they back, or any of them?'
'Nay,' she said, 'that were scarce to be looked for.' Said I:
'Have any other to thy knowledge gone on this said quest?'

"'Yea,' she said, 'I will tell thee all about it, and then there will be
an end of the story, for none knoweth better thereof than I. First there
was that old man, the wizard, to whom folk from Swevenham and other places
about were used to seek for his lore in hidden matters; and some months
after those three had departed, folk who went to his abode amongst
the mountains found him not; and soon the word was about that he also,
for as feeble as he was, had gone to seek the Well at the World's End;
though may-happen it was not so. Then the next spring after thy departure,
Richard, comes home Arnold Wright from the wars, and asks after Alice;
and when he heard what had befallen, he takes a scrip with a little meat
for the road, lays his spear on his shoulder, and is gone seeking the lost,
and the thing which they found not--that, I deem, was the end of him.
Again the year after that, as I deem, three of our carles fell in with two
knights riding east from Whitwall, and were questioned of them concerning
the road to the said Well, and doubted not but that they were on that quest.
Furthermore (and some of you wot this well enough, and more belike know
it not) two of our young men were faring by night and cloud on some errand,
good or bad, it matters not, on the highway thirty miles east of Whitwall:
it was after harvest, and the stubble-fields lay on either side of the way,
and the moon was behind thin clouds, so that it was light on the way,
as they told me; and they saw a woman wending before them afoot, and as they
came up with her, the moon ran out, and they saw that the woman was fair,
and that about her neck was a chaplet of gems that shone in the moon,
and they had a longing both for the jewel and the woman: but before they
laid hand on her they asked her of whence and whither, and she said:
From ruin and wrack to the Well at the World's End, and therewith turned
on them with a naked sword in her hand; so that they shrank from before her.

"'Hearken once more: the next year came a knight to Swevenham,
and guested in this same house, and he sat just where sitteth now yon
yellow-headed swain, and the talk went on the same road as it hath
gone to-night; and I told him all the tale as I have said it e'en now;
and he asked many questions, but most of the Lady with the pair of beads.
And on the morrow he departed and we saw him not again.

"Then she was silent, but the young man at whom she had pointed
Hushed red and stared at her wide-eyed, but said no word.
But I spake: 'Well dame, but have none else gone from Swevenham,
or what hath befallen them?'

"She said: 'Hearken yet! Twenty years agone a great sickness lay
heavy upon us and the folk of Whitwall, and when it was at its worst,
five of our young men, calling to mind all the tales concerning
the Well at the World's End, went their ways to seek it, and swore
that back would they never, save they found it and could bear its
water to the folk of Swevenham; and I suppose they kept their oath;
for we saw naught either of the water or of them. Well, I deem that this
is the last that I have to tell thee, Richard, concerning this matter:
and now is come the time for thee to tell tales of thyself.'

"Thus for that time dropped the talk of the Well at the World's End,
Lord Ralph, and of the way thither. But I hung about the township
yet a while, and yesterday as I stood on their stone bridge,
and looked on the water, up comes that long lad with the
yellow hair that the dame had pointed at, and says to me:
'Master Richard, saving thine age and thy dignity and mastery,
I can join an end to the tale which the carline began on
Sunday night.' 'Yea, forsooth?' said I, and how, my lad?'
Said he: 'Thou hast a goodly knife there in thy girdle,
give it to me, and I will tell thee.' 'Yea,' quoth I,
'if thy tale be knife-worthy.'

"Well, the end of it was that he told me thus:
That by night and moon he came on one riding the highway,
just about where the other woman had been seen, whose tale
he had heard of. He deemed at first this rider to be a man,
or a lad rather for smallness and slenderness, but coming close
up he found it was a woman, and saw on her neck a chaplet
of gems, and deemed it no great feat to take it of her:
but he asked her of whence and whither, and she answered:

"'From unrest to the Well at the World's End.'

"Then when he put out his hand to her, he saw a great anlace gleaming
in her hand, wherefore he forbore her; and this was but five days ago.

"So I gave the lad my knife, and deemed there would be little else
to hear in Swevenham for this bout; and at least I heard no more tales
to tell till I came away this morning; so there is my poke turned
inside out for thee. But this word further would I say to thee,
that I have seen on thy neck also a pair of beads exceeding goodly.
Tell me now whence came they."

"From my gossip, dame Katherine," said Ralph; "and it seems
to me now, though at the time I heeded the gift little save for
its kindness, that she thought something great might go with it;
and there was a monk at Higham on the Way, who sorely longed
to have it of me." "Well," said Richard, "that may well come
to pass, that it shall lead thee to the Well at the World's End.
But as to the tales of Swevenham, what deemest thou of them?"
Said Ralph: "What are they, save a token that folk
believe that there is such a thing on earth as the Well?
Yet I have made up my mind already that I would so do
as if I trowed in it. So I am no nearer to it than erst.
Now is there naught for it save to abide Master Clement's coming;
and when he hath brought me to Goldburg, then shall I see
how the quest looks by the daylight of that same city."
He spake so cheerfully that Richard looked at him askance,
wondering what was toward with him, and if mayhappen anything
lay underneath those words of his.

But in his heart Ralph was thinking of that last tale of the woman
whom the young man had met such a little while ago; and it seemed
to him that she must have been in Whitwall when he first came there;
and he scarce knew whether he were sorry or not that he had missed her:
for though it seemed to him that it would be little more than mere grief
and pain, nay, that it would be wicked and evil to be led to the Well at
the World's End by any other than her who was to have brought him there;
yet he longed, or thought he longed to speak with her concerning
that love of his heart, so early rewarded, so speedily beggared.
For indeed he doubted not that the said woman was the damsel of Bourton Abbas,
whose image had named herself Dorothea to him in that dream.

CHAPTER 17

Richard Bringeth Tidings of Departing

Fell the talk between them at that time, and three days wore, and on
the morning of the fourth day came Richard to Ralph, and said to him:
"Foster-son, I am sorry for the word I must say, but Clement Chapman
came within the gates this morning early, and the company with which
he is riding are alboun for the road, and will depart at noon to-day,
so that there are but four hours wherein we twain may be together;
and thereafter whatso may betide thee, it may well be, that I shall see
thy face no more; so what thou wilt tell me must be told straightway.
And now I will say this to thee, that of all things I were fain to ride
with thee, but I may not, because it is Blaise whom I am bound to serve
in all ways. And I deem, moreover, that troublous times may be at
hand here in Whitwall. For there is an Earl hight Walter the Black,
a fair young man outwardly, but false at heart and a tyrant, and he had
some occasion against the good town, and it was looked for that he should
send his herald here to defy the Port more than a half moon ago;
but about that time he was hurt in a fray as we hear, and may not back
a horse in battle yet. Albeit, fristed is not forgotten, as saith
the saw; and when he is whole again, we may look for him at our gates;
and whereas Blaise knows me for a deft man-at-arms or something more,
it is not to be looked for that he will give me to thee for this quest.
Nay, of thee also it will be looked for that thou shouldest do knightly
service to the Port, and even so Blaise means it to be; therefore have I
lied to him on thy behalf, and bidden Clement also to lie (which forsooth
he may do better than I, since he wotteth not wholly whither thou art
minded), and I have said thou wouldst go with Clement no further than
Cheaping Knowe, which lieth close to the further side of these mountains,
and will be back again in somewhat more than a half-moon's wearing.
So now thou art warned hereof."

Ralph was moved by these words of Richard, and he spake:
"Forsooth, old friend, I am sorry to depart from thee;
yet though I shall presently be all alone amongst aliens,
yet now is manhood rising again in me. So for that cause
at least shall I be glad to be on the way; and as a token
that I am more whole than I was, I will now tell thee the tale
of my grief, if thou wilt hearken to it, which the other day
I might not tell thee."

"I will hearken it gladly," said Richard. And therewith they sat
down in a window, for they were within doors in the hostel, and Ralph
told all that had befallen him as plainly and shortly as he might;
and when he had done, Richard said:

"Thou has had much adventure in a short space, lord, and if thou mightest
now refrain thy longing for that which is gone, and set it on that which is
to come, thou mayest yet harden into a famous knight and a happy man."
Said Ralph: "Yea? now tell me all thy thought."

Said Richard: "My thought is that this lady who was slain,
was scarce wholly of the race of Adam; but that at the least
there was some blending in her of the blood of the fays.
Or how deemest thou?"

"I wot not," said Ralph sadly; "to me she seemed but a woman,
though she were fairer and wiser than other women." Said Richard:
"Well, furthermore, if I heard thee aright, there is another woman
in the tale who is also fairer and wiser than other women?"

"I would she were my sister!" said Ralph. "Yea," quoth Richard, "and dost
thou bear in mind what she was like? I mean the fashion of her body."
"Yea, verily," said Ralph.

Again said Richard: "Doth it seem to thee as if the Lady of the Dry
Tree had some inkling that thou shouldst happen upon this other woman:
whereas she showed her of the road to the Well at the World's End, and gave
her that pair of beads, and meant that thou also shouldest go thither?
And thou sayest that she praised her,--her beauty and wisdom.
In what wise did she praise her? how came the words forth from her?
was it sweetly?"

"Like honey and roses for sweetness," said Ralph.
"Yea," said Richard, "and she might have praised her in such
wise that the words had came forth like gall and vinegar.
Now I will tell thee of my thought, since we be at point
of sundering, though thou take it amiss and be wroth with me:
to wit, that thou wouldst have lost the love of this lady as time wore,
even had she not been slain: and she being, if no fay, yet wiser
than other women, and foreseeing, knew that so it would be."
Ralph brake in: "Nay, nay, it is not so, it is not so!"
"Hearken, youngling!" quoth Richard; "I deem that it was thus.
Her love for thee was so kind that she would have thee happy
after the sundering: therefore she was minded that thou shouldest
find the damsel, who as I deem loveth thee, and that thou
shouldest love her truly."

"O nay, nay!" said Ralph, "all this guess of thine is naught, saying that she
was kind indeed. Even as heaven is kind to them who have died martyrs,
and enter into its bliss after many torments."

And therewith he fell a-weeping at the very thought of her great kindness:
for indeed to this young man she had seemed great, and exalted far above him.

Richard looked at him a while; and then said: "Now, I pray
thee be not wroth with me for the word I have spoken.
But something more shall I say, which shall like thee better.
To wit, when I came back from Swevenham on Wednesday I deemed
it most like that the Well at the World's End was a tale,
a coloured cloud only; or that at most if it were indeed
on the earth, that thou shouldest never find it.
But now is my mind changed by the hearing of thy tale,
and I deem both that the Well verily is, and that thou thyself
shalt find it; and that the wise Lady knew this, and set
the greater store by thy youth and goodliness, as a richer
and more glorious gift than it had been, were it as fleeting
as such things mostly be. Now of this matter will I say no more;
but I think that the words that I have said, and which now seem
so vain to thee, shall come into thy mind on some later day,
and avail thee somewhat; and that is why I have spoken them.
But this again is another word, that I have got a right
good horse for thee, and other gear, such as thou mayest
need for the road, and that Clement's fellowship will meet
in Petergate hard by the church, and I will be thy squire
till thou comest thither, and ridest thence out a-gates.
Now I suppose that thou will want to bid Blaise farewell:
yet thou must look to it that he will not deem thy farewell
of great moment, since he swimmeth in florins and goodly wares;
and moreover deemeth that thou wilt soon be back here."

"Nevertheless," said Ralph, "I must needs cast my arms about my own
mother's son before I depart: so go we now, as all this talk hath
worn away more than an hour of those four that were left me."

CHAPTER 18

Ralph Departeth From Whitwall With the Fellowship of Clement Chapman

Therewithal they went together to Blaise's house, and when Blaise
saw them, he said: "Well, Ralph, so thou must needs work
at a little more idling before thou fallest to in earnest.
Forsooth I deem that when thou comest back thou wilt find that we
have cut thee out a goodly piece of work for thy sewing.
For the good town is gathering a gallant host of men; and we shall
look to thee to do well in the hard hand-play, whenso that befalleth.
But now come and look at my house within, how fair it is,
and thou wilt see that thou wilt have somewhat to fight for,
whereas I am."

Therewith he led them up a stair into the great chamber, which was
all newly dight and hung with rich arras of the Story of Hercules;
and there was a goodly cupboard of silver vessel, and some gold,
and the cupboard was of five shelves as was but meet for a king's son.
So Ralph praised all, but was wishful to depart, for his heart was sore,
and he blamed himself in a manner that he must needs lie to his brother.

But Blaise brought them to the upper chamber, and showed them the goodly
beds with their cloths, and hangings, and all was as fair as might be.
Then Blaise bade bring wine and made them drink; and he gave Ralph
a purse of gold, and an anlace very fair of fashion, and brought
him to the door thereafter; and Ralph cast his arms about him,
and kissed him and strained him to his breast. But Blaise was somewhat
moved thereat, and said to him: "Why lad, thou art sorry to depart
from me for a little while, and what would it be, were it for long?
But ever wert thou a kind and tender-hearted youngling, and we twain
are alone in an alien land. Forsooth, I wot that thou hast, as it were,
embraced the Upmeads kindred, father, mother and all; and good is that!
So now God and the Saints keep thee, and bear in mind the hosting of the
good town, and the raising of the banner, that shall be no great while.
Fare thee well, lad!"

So they parted, and Ralph went back to the hostel, and gathered
his stuff together, and laid it on a sumpter horse, and armed him,
and so went into Petergate to join himself to that company.
There he found the chapmen, five of them in all, and their lads,
and a score of men-at-arms, with whom was Clement, not clad
like a merchant, but weaponed, and bearing a coat of proof
and a bright sallet on his head.

They greeted each the other, and Ralph said: "Yea, master Clement,
and be we riding to battle?" "Maybe," quoth Clement;
"the way is long, and our goods worth the lifting, and there
are some rough places that we must needs pass through.
But if ye like not the journey, abide here in this town
the onset of Walter the Black."

Therewith he laughed, and Ralph understanding the jape, laughed also;
and said: "Well, master Clement, but tell me who be these that we
shall meet." "Yea, and I will tell thee the whole tale of them,"
said Clement, "but abide till we are without the gates; I am busy
man e'en now, for all is ready for the road, save what I must do.
So now bid thy Upmeads squire farewell, and then to horse with thee!"

So Ralph cast his arms about Richard, and kissed him and said:
"This is also a farewell to the House where I was born and bred."
And as he spake the thought of the House and the garden, and the
pleasant fields of Upmeads came into his heart so bitter-sweet,
that it mingled with his sorrow, and well-nigh made him weep.
But as for Richard he forebore words, for he was sad at heart
for the sundering.

Then he gat to horse, and the whole company of them bestirred them,
and they rode out a-gates. And master Clement it was that ordered them,
riding up and down along the array.

But Ralph fell to speech with the chapmen and men-at-arms;
and both of these were very courteous with him; for they rejoiced
in his company, and especially the chapmen, who were somewhat
timorous of the perils of the road.

CHAPTER 19

Master Clement Tells Ralph Concerning the Lands Whereunto They Were Riding

When they were gotten a mile or two from Whitwall,
and all was going smoothly, Clement came up to Ralph and rode
at his left hand, and fell to speech with him, and said:
"Now, lord, will I tell thee more concerning our journey,
and the folk that we are like to meet upon the road.
And of the perils, whatso they may be, I told thee not before,
because I knew thee desirous of seeking adventures east-away,
and knew that my tales would not hinder thee."

"Yea," said Ralph, "and had not this goodly fellowship been, I had gone alone,
or with any carle that I could have lightly hired."

Clement laughed and said: "Fair sir, thou wouldst have failed
of hiring any one man to go with thee east-ward a many miles.
For with less than a score of men well-armed the danger of death
or captivity is over great, if ye ride the mountain ways unto
Cheaping Knowe. Yea, and even if a poor man who hath nothing,
wend that way alone, he may well fall among thieves, and be stolen
himself body and bones, for lack of anything better to steal."

Hereat Ralph felt his heart rise, when he thought of battle and strife,
and he made his horse to spring somewhat, and then he said:
"It liketh me well, dear friend, that I ride not with thee for naught,
but that I may earn my daily bread like another."

"Yea," said Clement, looking on him kindly, "I deem of all thy
brethren thou hast the biggest share of the blood of Red Robert,
who first won Upmeads. And now thou shalt know that this good town
of Whitwall that lieth behind us is the last of the lands we shall
come to wherein folk can any courtesy, or are ruled by the customs of
the manor, or by due lawful Earls and Kings, or the laws of the Lineage
or the Port, or have any Guilds for their guiding, and helping.
And though these folks whereunto we shall come, are, some of them,
Christian men by name, and have amongst them priests and religious;
yet are they wild men of manners, and many heathen customs abide
amongst them; as swearing on the altars of devils, and eating
horse-flesh at the High-tides, and spell-raising more than enough,
and such like things, even to the reddening of the doom-rings with
the blood of men and of women, yea, and of babes: from such things
their priests cannot withhold them. As for their towns that we
shall come to, I say not but we shall find crafts amongst them,
and worthy good men therein, but they have little might against
the tyrants who reign over the towns, and who are of no great kindred,
nor of blood better than other folk, but merely masterful and wise
men who have gained their place by cunning and the high hand.
Thou shalt see castles and fair strong-houses about the country-side,
but the great men who dwell therein are not the natural kindly
lords of the land yielding service to Earls, Dukes, and Kings,
and having under them vavassors and villeins, men of the manor;
but their tillers and shepherds and workmen and servants be mere thralls,
whom they may sell at any market, like their horses or oxen.
Forsooth these great men have with them for the more part free men
waged for their service, who will not hold their hands from aught that
their master biddeth, not staying to ask if it be lawful or unlawful.
And that the more because whoso is a free man there, house and head
must he hold on the tenure of bow and sword, and his life is like to
be short if he hath not sworn himself to the service of some tyrant
of a castle or a town."

"Yea, master Clement," said Ralph, "these be no peaceful lands
whereto thou art bringing us, or very pleasant to dwell in."

"Little for peace, but much for profit," said Clement;
"for these lands be fruitful of wine and oil and wheat, and neat
and sheep; withal metals and gems are dug up out of the mountains;
and on the other hand, they make but little by craftsmanship,
wherefore are they the eagerer for chaffer with us merchants;
whereas also there are many of them well able to pay for what
they lack, if not in money, then in kind, which in a way is better.
Yea, it is a goodly land for merchants."

"But I am no merchant," said Ralph.

"So it is," said Clement, "yet thou desireth something;
and whither we are wending thou mayst hear tidings that shall
please thee, or tidings that shall please me. To say sooth,
these two may well be adverse to each other, for I would not have
thee hear so much of tidings as shall lead thee on, but rather I
would have thee return with me, and not throw thy young life away:
for indeed I have an inkling of what thou seekest, and meseems
that Death and the Devil shall be thy faring-fellows."

Ralph held his peace, and Clement said in a cheerfuller voice:
"Moreover, there shall be strange and goodly things to see;
and the men of these parts be mostly goodly of body, and the women
goodlier yet, as we carles deem."

Ralph sighed, and answered not at once, but presently he said:
"Master Clement, canst thou give me the order of our goings
for these next days?" "Yea, certes," said Clement.
"In three days' time we shall come to the entry of the mountains:
two days thence we shall go without coming under any roof
save the naked heavens; the day thereafter shall we come
to the Mid-Mountain House, which is as it were an hostelry;
but it was built and is upheld by the folks that dwell anigh,
amongst whom be the folk of Cheaping Knowe; and that house
is hallowed unto truce, and no man smiteth another therein;
so that we oft come on the mountain strong-thieves there, and there
we be blithe together and feast together in good fellowship.
But when there be foemen in that house together, each man or each
fellowship departing, hath grace of an hour before his foeman follow.
Such are the customs of that house, and no man breaketh them ever.
But when we depart thence we shall ride all day and sleep
amidst the mountains, and if we be not beset that night or
the morrow's morn thereof, safe and unfoughten shall we come
to Cheaping Knowe. Doth that suffice thee as at this time?"
"Yea master," quoth Ralph.

So therewith their talk dropped, for the moment; but Clement
talked much with Ralph that day, and honoured him much,
as did all that company.

CHAPTER 20

They Come to the Mid-Mountain Guest-House

On that night they slept in their tents which they had pitched
on the field of a little thorp beside a water; and there
they had meat and drink and all things as they needed them.
And in likewise it befell them the next day; but the third
evening they set up their tents on a little hillside by a road
which led into a deep pass, even the entry of the mountains,
a road which went betwixt exceeding high walls of rock.
For the mountain sides went up steep from the plain.
There they kept good watch and ward, and naught befell them
to tell of.

The next morning they entered the pass, and rode through it up to the heaths,
and rode all day by wild and stony ways and came at even to a grassy valley
watered by a little stream, where they guested, watching their camp well;
and again none meddled with them.

As they were departing the next morn Ralph asked of Clement
if he yet looked for onset from the waylayers. Said Clement:
"It is most like, lord; for we be a rich prey, and it is but seldom
that such a company rideth this road. And albeit that the wild
men know not to a day when we shall pass through their country,
yet they know the time within a four and twenty hours or so.
For we may not hide our journey from all men's hearing;
and when the ear heareth, the tongue waggeth. But art thou
yet anxious concerning this matter, son?" "Yea," said Ralph,
"for I would fain look on these miscreants."

"It is like that ye shall see them," said Clement; "but I
shall look on it as a token that they are about waylaying us
if we come on none of them in the Mountain House. For they
will be fearful lest their purpose leak out from unwary lips."
Ralph wondered how it would be, and what might come of it,
and rode on, pondering much.

The road was rough that day, and they went not above a foot-pace
the more part of the time; and daylong they were going up and up,
and it grew cold as the sun got low; though it was yet summer.
At last at the top of a long stony ridge, which lay beneath a great
spreading mountain, on the crest whereof the snow lay in plenty, Ralph saw
a house, long and low, builded of great stones, both walls and roof:
at sight thereof the men of the fellowship shouted for joy,
and hastened on, and Clement spurred up the stony slopes all he might.
But Ralph rode slowly, since he had naught to see to, save himself,
so that he was presently left alone. Now he looks aside, and sees
something bright-hued lying under a big stone where the last rays
of the sun just caught some corner of it. So he goes thither,
deeming that mayhappen one of the company had dropped something,
pouch or clout, or what not, in his haste and hurry. He got off
his horse to pick it up, and when he had laid hand on it found it
to be a hands-breadth of fine green cloth embroidered with flowers.
He held it in his hand a while wondering where he could have seen
such like stuff before, that it should smite a pang into his heart,
and suddenly called to mind the little hall at Bourton Abbas
with the oaken benches and the rush-strewn floor, and this same
flower-broidered green cloth dancing about the naked feet of a fair damsel,
as she moved nimbly hither and thither dighting him his bever.
But his thought stayed not there, but carried him into the days
when he was abiding in desire of the love that he won at last,
and lost so speedily. But as he stood pondering he heard
Clement shouting to him from the garth-gate of that house.
So he leapt on his horse and rode up the slope into the garth and lighted
down by Clement; who fell to chiding him for tarrying, and said:
"There is peril in loitering outside this garth alone; for those Sons
of the Rope often lurk hard by for what they may easily pick up,
and they be brisk and nimble lads." "What ailed thee?" said Ralph.
"I stayed to look at a flower which called Upmeads to my mind."

"Yea lad, yea," quoth Clement, "and art thou so soft as that?
But come thou into the House; it is as I deemed it might be;
besides the House-warden and his wife there is no soul therein.
Thou shalt yet look on Mick Hangman's sons, as thou desirest."

So they went into the House, and men had all that they might need.
The warden was an old hoar man, and his wife well-stricken in years;
and after supper was talk of this and that, and it fell much,
as was like to be, on those strong-thieves, and Clement asked
the warden what he had seen of them of late.

The old carle answered: "Nay, master Clement, much according to wont:
a few beeves driven into our garth; a pack or two brought into the hall;
and whiles one or two of them come in hither with empty hands for a sleep
and a bellyful; and again a captive led in on the road to the market.
Forsooth it is now a good few days ago three of them brought in a woman
as goodly as mine eyes have ever seen; and she sat on the bench yonder,
and seemed to heed little that she was a captive and had shackles on her
feet after the custom of these men, though indeed her hands were unbound,
so that she might eat her meat; and the carle thief told me that he took
her but a little way from the garth, and that she made a stout defence
with a sword before they might take her, but being taken, she made
but little of it."

"Would he do her any hurt?" said Ralph. "Nay, surely," said the carle;
"doth a man make a hole in a piece of cloth which he is taking to market?
Nay, he was courteous to her after his fashion, and bade us give her the best
of all we had."

"What like was she?" said Ralph. Said the carle:
"She was somewhat tall, if I am to note such matters,
grey-eyed and brown haired, and great abundance of it.
Her lips very red; her cheeks tanned with the sun, but in such
wise that her own white and red shone through the sun's painting,
so that her face was as sweet as the best wheat-ear in a ten-acre
field when the season hath been good. Her hands were not like
those of a demoiselle who sitteth in a chamber to be looked at,
but brown as of one who hath borne the sickle in the sun.
But when she stretched out her hand so that the wrist of her
came forth from her sleeve it was as white as milk."

"Well, my man," said the carline, "thou hast a good memory for an old
and outworn carle. Why dost thou not tell the young knight what she
was clad withal; since save for their raiment all women of an age
are much alike?"

"Nay, do thou do it," said the carle; "she was even as fair as I have said;
so that there be few like her."

Said the dame: "Well, there is naught so much to be said for her raiment:
her gown was green, of fine cloth enough; but not very new:
welts of needle-work it had on it, and a wreath of needle-work flowers
round the hem of the skirt; but a cantle was torn off from it;
in the scuffle when she was taken, I suppose, so that it was somewhat
ragged in one place. Furthermore--"

She had been looking at Ralph as she spoke, and now she
broke off suddenly, and said, still looking at him hard;
"Well, it is strange!" "What is strange?" said Clement.
"O naught, naught," said the dame, "save that folk should make
so much to do about this matter, when there are so many coming
and going about the Midhouse of the Mountains."

But Ralph noted that she was still staring at him even after she
had let the talk drop.

Waned the even, and folk began to go bedward, so that the hall
grew thin of guests. Then came up the carline to Ralph and
took him aside into a nook, and said to him: "Young knight,
now will I tell thee what seemed to me strange e'en now;
to wit, that the captive damsel should be bearing a necklace
about her neck as like to thine as one lamb is to another:
but I thought thou mightest be liever that I spake it not openly
before all the other folk. So I held my peace."

"Dame," said he, "I thank thee: forsooth I fear sorely that this
damsel is my sister; for ever we have worn the samelike pair of beads.
And as for me I have come hither to find her, and evil will it be if I
find her enthralled, and it may be past redemption."

And therewith he gave her a piece of the gold money of Upmeads.

"Yea," said she, "poor youth; that will be sooth indeed,
for thou art somewhat like unto her, yet far goodlier.
But I grieve for thee, and know not what thou wilt do;
whereas by this time most like she has been sold and bought
and is dwelling in some lord's strong-house; some tyrant that
needeth not money, and will not let his prey go for a prayer.
Here, take thou thy gold again, for thou mayst well need it,
and let me shear a lock of thy golden hair, and I shall
be well apaid for my keeping silence concerning thy love.
For I deem that it is even so, and that she is not thy sister,
else hadst thou stayed at home, and prayed for her with book
and priest and altar, and not gone seeking her a weary way."

Ralph reddened but said naught, and let her put scizzors
amongst his curly locks, and take what of them she would.
And then he went to his bed, and pondered these matters somewhat,
and said to himself that it was by this damsel's means
that he should find the Well at the World's End.
Yet he said also, that, whether it were so or not,
he was bound to seek her, and deliver her from thralldom,
since he had kissed her so sweet and friendly, like a brother,
for the sweetness and kindness of her, before he had fallen
into the love that had brought him such joy and such grief.
And therewith he took out that piece of her gown from his pouch,
and it seemed dear to him. But it made him think sadly
of what grief or pain she might even then be bearing, so that
he longed to deliver her, and that longing was sweet to him.
In such thoughts he fell asleep.

CHAPTER 21

A Battle in the Mountains

When it was morning they arose early and ate a morsel; and Clement gave
freely to the Warden and his helpmate on behalf of the fellowship;
and then they saddled their nags, and did on the loads and departed;
and the way was evil otherwise, but it was down hill, and all
waters ran east.

All day they rode, and at even when the sun had not quite set,
they pitched their camp at the foot of a round knoll amidst
a valley where was water and grass; and looking down thence,
they had a sight of the fruitful plain, wherein lay Cheaping
Knowe all goodly blue in the distance.

This was a fair place and a lovely, and great ease would they
have had there, were it not that they must keep watch and ward
with more pains than theretofore; for Clement deemed it as good
as certain that the wild men would fall upon them that night.

But all was peaceful the night through, and in the morning they gat
to the way speedily, riding with their armour on, and their bows bent:
and three of the men-at-arms rode ahead to espy the way.

So it befell that they had not ridden two hours ere back came
the fore-riders with the tidings that the pass next below them
was thick with the Strong-thieves.

The fellowship were as then in such a place, that they were riding a high
bare ridge, and could not be assailed to the advantage of the thieves if they
abode where they were; whereas if they went forward, they must needs go
down with the road into the dale that was beset by the wild men. Now they
were three-score and two all told, but of these but a score of men-at-arms
besides Ralph, and Clement, who was a stout fighter when need was.
Of the others, some were but lads, and of the Chapmen were three old men,
and more than one blencher besides. However, all men were armed, and they
had many bows, and some of the chapmen's knaves were fell archers.

So they took counsel together, and to some it seemed
better to abide the onset on their vantage ground.
But to Clement and the older men-at-arms this seemed of no avail.
For though they could see the plain country down below,
they would have no succour of it; and Clement bade them think
how the night would come at last, and that the longer they abode,
the greater would be the gathering of the Strong-thieves;
so that, all things considered, it were better to fall
on at once and to try the adventure of the valley.
And this after some talk they yea-said all, save a few who held
their skins so dear that their wits wandered somewhat.

So these timorous ones they bade guard the sumpter beasts and their loads;
and even so they did, and abode a little, while the men-at-arms and the bowmen
went forward without more ado; and Ralph rode betwixt Clement and the captain
of the men-at-arms.

Presently they were come close to the place where the way went
down into the valley, cleaving through a clayey bent, so that
the slippery sides of the cleft went up high to right and left;
wherefore by goodhap there were no big stones anigh to roll
down upon them. Moreover the way was short, and they rode six
abreast down the pass and were soon through the hollow way.
As he rode Ralph saw a few of the Strong-thieves at
the nether end where the pass widened out, and they let fly
some arrows at the chapmen which did no hurt, though some
of the shafts rattled on the armour of the companions.
But when Clement saw that folk, and heard the noise of their
shouting he lifted up a great axe that he bore and cried,
"St. Agnes for the Mercers!" and set spurs to his horse.
So did they all, and came clattering and shouting down the steep
road like a stone out of a sling, and drave right into
the valley one and all, the wouldbe laggards following after;
for they were afraid to be left behind.

The wild men, who, save for wide shields which they bore,
were but evilly armed, mostly in skins of beasts, made no
countenance of defence, but fled all they might towards the steep
slopes of the valley, and then turned and fell to shooting;
for the companions durst not pursue in haste lest they should
be scattered, and overwhelmed by the multitude of foemen;
but they drew up along the south side of the valley,
and had the mastery of the road, so that this first bout
was without blood-shedding. Albeit the thieves still shot
in their weak bows from the hill-side, but scarce hurt a man.
Then the bowmen of the fellowship fell to shooting at
the wild men, while the men-at-arms breathed their horses,
and the sumpter-beasts were gathered together behind them;
for they had no dread of abiding there a while, whereas behind
them the ground was broken into a steep shaly cliff, bushed here
and there with tough bushes, so that no man could come up it
save by climbing with hand and knee, and that not easily.

Now when the archers had shot a good while, and some of the thieves had
fallen before them, and men were in good heart because of the flight of the
wild men, Ralph, seeing that these still hung about the slopes, cried out:
"Master Clement, and thou Captain, sure it will be ill-done to leave these
men unbroken behind us, lest they follow us and hang about our hindermost,
slaying us both men and horses."

"Even so," quoth the captain, who was a man of few words, "let us go.
But do thou, Clement, abide by the stuff with the lads and bowmen."

Then he cried out aloud: "St. Christopher to aid!" and shook his rein,
and all they who were clad in armour and well mounted spurred
on with him against the strong-thieves. But these, when they saw
the onset of the horsemen, but drew a little up the hill-side
and stood fast, and some of the horses were hurt by their shot.
So the captain bade draw rein and off horse, while Clement led his
bowmen nigher, and they shot well together, and hindered the thieves
from closing round the men-at-arms, or falling on the horses.
So then the companions went forward stoutly on foot, and entered
into the battle of the thieves, and there was the thrusting
and the hewing great: for the foemen bore axes, and malls,
and spears, and were little afraid, having the vantage-ground;
and they were lithe and strong men, though not tall.

Ralph played manfully, and was hurt by a spear above the knee,
but not grievously; so he heeded it not, but cleared a space all about
him with great strokes of the Upmeads' blade; then as the wild men
gave back there was one of them who stood his ground and let drive
a stroke of a long-handled hammer at him, but Ralph ran in under
the stroke and caught him by the throat and drew him out of the press.
And even therewith the wild men broke up before the onset of
the all-armed carles, and fled up the hill, and the men-at-arms
followed them but a little, for their armour made them unspeedy;
so that they took no more of those men, though they slew some,
but turned about and gathered round Ralph and made merry over
his catch, for they were joyous with the happy end of battle;
and Clement, who had left his bowmen when the Companions were
mingled with the wild-men, was there amidst the nighest.

Said Ralph to him: "Well, have I got me a servant and thrall good cheap?"
"Yea," said Clement, "if thou deem a polecat a likely hound."
Said the Captain: "Put thy sword through him, knight." Quoth another:
"Let him run up hill, and our bowmen shall shoot a match at him."

"Nay," said Ralph, "they have done well with their shooting, let them rest.
As to my thrusting my sword through the man, Captain, I had done that before,
had I been so minded. At any rate, I will ask him if he will serve me truly.
Otherwise he seemeth a strong carle and a handy. How sayest thou, lad, did I
take thee fairly?" "Yea," said the man, "thou art a strong lad."

He seemed to fear the swords about him but little, and forsooth he was
a warrior-like man, and not ill-looking. He was of middle height,
strong and well-knit, with black hair like a beast's mane for shagginess,
and bright blue eyes. He was clad in a short coat of grey homespun,
with an ox-skin habergeon laced up over it; he had neither helm nor hat,
nor shoes, but hosen made of a woollen clout tied about his legs;
his shield of wood and ox-hide lay on the ground a few paces off,
and his hammer beside it, which he had dropped when Ralph first handled him,
but a great ugly knife was still girt to him.

Now Ralph saith to him: "Which wilt thou--be slain, or serve me?"
Said the carle, grinning, yet not foully: "Guess if I would
not rather serve thee!" "Wilt thou serve me truly?" said Ralph.
"Why not?" quoth the carle: "yet I warn thee that if thou beat me,
save in hot blood, I shall put a knife into thee when I may."

"O," said one, "thrust him through now at once, lord Ralph."
"Nay, I will not," said Ralph; "he hath warned me fairly.
Maybe he will serve me truly. Master Clement, wilt thou
lend me a horse for my man to ride?" "Yea," said Clement;
"yet I misdoubt me of thy new squire." Then he turned
to the men-at-arms and said: "No tarrying, my masters!
To horse and away before they gather gain!"

So they mounted and rode away from that valley of the pass, and Ralph
made his man ride beside him. But the man said to him, as soon as they
were riding: "Take note that I will not fight against my kindred."
"None biddeth thee so," said Ralph; "but do thou take heed that if
thou fight against us I will slay thee outright." Said the man:
"A fair bargain!" "Well," said Ralph, "I will have thy knife of thee,
lest it tempt thee, as is the wont of cold iron, and a maiden's body."
"Nay, master," quoth the man, "leave me my knife, as thou art a good fellow.
In two hours time we shall be past all peril of my people, and when we
come down below I will slay thee as many as thou wilt, so it be out
of the kindred. Forsooth down there evil they be, and unkinsome."

"So be it, lad," said Ralph, laughing, "keep thy knife; but hang
this word of mine thereon, that if thou slay any man of this
fellowship save me, I will rather flay thee alive than slay thee."
Quoth the carle: "That is the bargain, then, and I yeasay it."
"Good," said Ralph; "now tell me thy name." "Bull Shockhead,"
said the carle.

But now the fellowship took to riding so fast down the slopes of the
mountains on a far better road, that talking together was not easy.
They kept good watch, both behind and ahead, nor were they set upon again,
though whiles they saw clumps of men on the hill-sides.

So after a while, when it was a little past noon, they came adown to the lower
slopes of the mountains and the foot-hills, which were green and unstony;
and thereon were to be seen cattle and neatherds and shepherds, and here
and there the garth of a homestead, and fenced acres about it.

So now that they were come down into the peopled parts,
they displayed the banners of their fellowships, to wit, the Agnes,
the White Fleece, the Christopher, and the Ship and Nicholas,
which last was the banner of the Faring-knights of Whitwall;
but Ralph was glad to ride under the banner of St. Nicholas,
his friend, and deemed that luck might the rather come to him thereby.
But they displayed their banners now, because they knew that no man
of the peopled parts would be so hardy as to fall upon the Chapmen,
of whom they looked to have many matters for their use and pleasure.

So now that they felt themselves safe, they stayed them, and sat
down by a fair little stream, and ate their dinner of such meat
and drink as they had; and Ralph departed his share with his thrall,
and the man was hungry and ate well; so that Clement said mockingly:
"Thou feedest thy thrall over well, lord, even for a king's son:
is it so that thou art minded to fatten him and eat him?"
Then some of the others took up the jest, and bade the carle refrain him
of the meat, so that he might not fatten, and might live the longer.
He hearkened to them, and knit his brows and looked fiercely from
one to the other. But Ralph laughed aloud, and shook his finger
at him and refrained him, and his wrath ran off him and he laughed,
and shoved the victual into him doughtily, and sighed for pleasure
when he had made an end and drunk a draught of wine.

CHAPTER 22

Ralph Talks With Bull Shockhead

When they rode on again, Ralph rode beside Bull,
who was merry and blithe now he was full of meat and drink;
and he spake anon: "So thou art a king's son, master?
I deemed from the first that thou wert of lineage.
For as for these churls of chapmen, and the sworders whom
they wage, they know not the name of their mother's mother,
nor have heard one word of the beginner of their kindred;
and their deeds are like unto their kinlessness."

"And are thy deeds so good?" said Ralph. "Are they ill,"
said Bull, "when they are done against the foemen?" Said Ralph:
"And are all men your foemen who pass through these mountains?"
"All," said Bull, "but they be of the kindred or their known friends."

"Well, Bull," said Ralph, "I like thy deeds little, that thou
shouldest ravish men and women from their good life, and sell
them for a price into toil and weariness and stripes."

Said Bull: "How much worse do we than the chapmen by his debtor,
and the lord of the manor by his villein?" Said Ralph:
"Far worse, if ye did but know it, poor men!" Quoth Bull:
"But I neither know it, nor can know it, nay, not when thou
sayest it; for it is not so. And look you, master, this life
of a bought thrall is not such an exceeding evil life;
for oft they be dealt with softly and friendly, and have other
thralls to work for them under their whips."

Ralph laughed: "Which shall I make thee, friend Bull, the upper
or the under?" Bull reddened, but said naught. Said Ralph:
"Or where shall I sell thee, that I may make the best penny
out of my good luck and valiancy?" Bull looked chopfallen:
"Nay," said he in a wheedling voice, "thou wilt not sell me, thou?
For I deem that thou wilt be a good master to me: and," he broke
into sudden heat hereat, "if I have another master I shall surely
slay him whate'er betide."

Ralph laughed again, and said: "Seest thou what an evil craft ye follow,
when thou deemest it better to be slain with bitter torments (as thou
shouldest be if thou slewest thy master) than to be sold to any master
save one exceeding good?"

Bull held his peace hereat, but presently he said:
"Well, be our craft good or evil, it is gainful; and whiles there
is prey taken right good, which, for my part, I would not sell,
once I had my hand thereon." "Yea, women?" said Ralph.
"Even so," said Bull, "such an one was taken by my kinsman Bull
Nosy but a little while agone, whom he took down to the market at
Cheaping Knowe, as I had not done if I had once my arms about her.
For she was as fair as a flower; and yet so well built, that she
could bear as much as a strong man in some ways; and, saith Nosy,
when she was taken, there was no weeping or screeching in her,
but patience rather and quietness, and intent to bear all and
live....Master, may I ask thee a question?" "Ask on," said Ralph.
Said Bull: "The pair of beads about thy neck, whence came they?"
"They were the gift of a dear friend," said Ralph. "A woman?"
quoth Bull. "Yea," said Ralph.

"Now is this strange," said Bull, "and I wot not what it may betoken,
but this same woman had about her neck a pair of beads as like to thine
as if they had been the very same: did this woman give thee the beads?
For I will say this of thee, master, that thou art well nigh as likely
a man as she is a woman."

Ralph sighed, for this talk of the woman and the beads brought all
the story into his mind, so that it was as if he saw it adoing again:
the Lady of the Wildwood led along to death before he delivered her,
and their flight together from the Water of the Oak, and that murder
of her in the desert. And betwixt the diverse deeds of the day
this had of late become somewhat dim to him. Yet after his grief
came joy that this man also had seen the damsel, whom his dream
of the night had called Dorothea, and that he knew of her captors;
wherefore by his means he might come on her and deliver her.

Now he spake aloud: "Nay, it was not she that gave them to me,
but yet were I fain to find this woman that thou sawest;
for I look to meet a friend whenas I meet her. So tell me,
dost thou think that I may cheapen her of thy kinsman?"

Bull shook his head, and said: "It may be: or it may be that he hath
already sold her to one who heedeth not treasure so much as fair flesh;
and fair is hers beyond most. But, lord, I will do my best to find
her for thee; as thou art a king's son and no ill master, I deem."

"Do that," quoth Ralph, "and I in turn will do what more I may for thee
besides making thee free." And therewith he rode forward that he might
get out of earshot, for Bull's tongue seemed like to be long.
And presently he heard laughter behind him, as the carle began jesting
and talking with the chapman lads.

CHAPTER 23

Of the Town of Cheaping Knowe

Now when it was evening they pitched their camp down in the plain
fields amidst tall elmtrees, and had their banners still
flying over the tents to warn all comers of what they were.
But the next morning the chapmen and their folk were up betimes
to rummage their loads, and to array their wares for the market;
and they gat not to the road before mid-morning. Meantime
of their riding Ralph had more talk with Bull, who said to him:
"Fair lord, I rede thee when thou art in the market of Cheaping Knowe,
bid master Clement bring thee to the thrall-merchant, and trust me
that if such a fair image as that we were speaking of hath passed
through his hands within these three months, he will remember it;
and then thou shalt have at least some tale of what hath befallen
her but a little while ago."

That seemed good rede to Ralph, and when they went on their way
he rode beside Clement, and asked him many things concerning
Cheaping Knowe; and at last about the thrall-market therein.
And Clement said that, though he dealt not in such wares,
he had often seen them sold, and knew the master of that market.
And when Ralph asked if the said master would answer questions
concerning the selling of men and of women, Clement smiled and said:
"Yea, yea, he will answer; for as he lives by selling thralls,
and every time a thrall is sold by him he maketh some gain by it,
it is to his profit that they change masters as often as may be;
and when thou askest of the woman whom thou art seeking,
he will be deeming that there will be some new chaffer ahead.
I will bring thee to him, and thou shalt ask him of what thou wilt,
and belike he will tell thee quietly over the wine-cup."

Therewith was Ralph well content, and he grew eager to enter
into the town.

They came to the gates a little before sunset, after they had passed
through much fair country; but nigh to the walls it was bare of trees
and thickets, whereas, said Clement, they had been cut down lest they
should serve as cover to strong-thieves or folk assailing the town.
The walls were strong and tall, and a great castle stood high up
on a hill, about which the town was builded; so that if the town were
taken there would yet be another town within it to be taken also.
But the town within, save for the said castle, was scarce so fairly
builded as the worst of the towns which Ralph had seen erst,
though there were a many houses therein.

Much people was gathered about the gate to see the merchants enter
with banners displayed; and Ralph deemed many of the folk fair,
such as were goodly clad; for many had but foul clouts to cover
their nakedness, and seemed needy and hunger-pinched. Withal there
were many warriors amongst the throng, and most of these bore
a token on their sleeves, to wit, a sword reddened with blood.
And Clement, speaking softly in Ralph's ear, did him to wit that this
was the token of the lord who had gotten the castle in those days,
and was tyrant of the town; and how that he had so many men-at-arms
ready to do his bidding that none in the town was safe from him
if he deemed it more for his pleasure and profit to rob or maim,
or torment or slay, than to suffer them to live peaceably.
"But with us chapmen," said Clement, "he will not meddle, lest there
be an end of chaffer in the town; and verily the market is good."

Thus they rode through the streets into the market place,
which was wide and great, and the best houses of the town
were therein, and so came to the hostel of the Merchants,
called the Fleece, which was a big house, and goodly enough.

The next morning Clement and the other chapmen went up into the Castle,
bearing with them gifts out of their wares for the lord, and Clement
bade Ralph keep close till he came back, and especially to keep his
war-caught thrall, Bull Shockhead, safe at home, lest he be taken from him,
and to clothe him in the guise of the chapman lads, and to dock his hair;
and even so Ralph did, though Bull were loath thereto.

About noon the chapmen came back again well pleased; and Clement
gave Ralph a parchment from the lord, which bade all men help
and let pass Ralph of Upmeads, as a sergeant of the chapmen's guard,
and said withal that now he was free to go about the town if he listed,
so that he were back at the hostel of the Fleece by nightfall.

So Ralph went in company with some of the sergeants and others, and looked
at this and that about the town without hindrance, save that the guard
would not suffer them to pass further than the bailey of the Castle.
And for the said bailey, forsooth, they had but little stomach; for they
saw thence, on the slopes of the Castle-hill, tokens of the cruel justice
of the said lord; for there were men and women there, yea, and babes also,
hanging on gibbets and thrust through with sharp pales, and when they asked
of folk why these had suffered, they but looked at them as if astonished,
and passed on without a word.

So they went thence, and found the master-church, and deemed
it not much fairer than it was great; and it was nowise great,
albeit it was strange and uncouth of fashion.

Then they came to great gardens within the town, and they were
exceeding goodly, and had trees and flowers and fruits in them
which Ralph had not seen hitherto, as lemons, and oranges,
and pomegranates; and the waters were running through them
in runnels of ashlar; and the weather was fair and hot;
so they rested in those gardens till it was evening, and then
gat them home to Fleece, where they had good entertainment.

CHAPTER 24

Ralph Heareth More Tidings of the Damsel

The second day, while the merchants saw to their chaffer,
most of the men-at-arms, and Ralph with them, spent their time
again in those goodly gardens; where, indeed, some of them made
friends of fair women of the place; in which there was less risk
than had been for aliens in some towns, whereas at Cheaping
Knowe such women as were wedded according to law, or damsels
in the care of their kindred, or slaves who were concubines,
had not dared so much as to look on a man.

The third day time hung somewhat heavy on Ralph's hands,
not but that the Companions were well at ease, but rather
because himseemed that he was not stirring in the quest.

But the next day Clement bade him come see that thrall-merchant aforesaid,
and brought him to a corner of the market-place, where was a throng looking
on at the cheaping. They went through the throng, and beside a stone
like a leaping-on stone saw a tall man, goodly of presence, black bearded,
clad in scarlet; and this was the merchant; and by him were two of his knaves
and certain weaponed men who had brought their wares to the cheaping.
And some of these were arrayed like those foemen of the mountains.
There was a half score and three of these chattels to be sold, who stood up
one after other on the stone, that folk might cheapen them. The cheaping was
long about, because they that had a mind to buy were careful to know what they
were buying, like as if they had been cheapening a horse, and most of them
before they bid their highest had the chattels away into the merchant's booth
to strip them, lest they should buy damaged or unhandsome bodies; and this
more especially if it were a woman, for the men were already well nigh naked.
Of women four of them were young and goodly, and Ralph looked at them closely;
but they were naught like to the woman of his quest.

Now this cheaping irked Ralph sorely, as was like to be, whereas,
as hath been told, he came from a land where were no thralls,
none but vavassors and good yeomen: yet he abode till all was done,
hansel paid, and the thralls led off by their new masters.
Then Clement led him up to the merchant, to whom he gave the sele
of the day, and said: "Master, this is the young knight of whom
I told thee, who deemeth that a woman who is his friend hath
been brought to this market and sold there, and if he might,
he would ransom her."

The merchant greeted Ralph courteously, and bade him and Clement
come into his house, where they might speak more privily.
So did they, and he treated them with honour, and set wine and
spices before them, and bade Ralph say whatlike the woman was.
Ralph did so, and wondered at himself how well and closely he could
tell of her, like as a picture painted. And, moreover, he drew forth
that piece of her gown which he had come on by the Mid-Mountain House

So when he had done, the merchant, who was a man sober of aspect and somewhat
slow of speech, said: "Sir, I believe surely that I have seen this damsel,
but she is not with me now, nor have I sold her ever; but hither was she
brought to be sold by a man of the mountain folk not very many days ago.
And the man's name was Bull Nosy, or the longnosed man of the kindred
of the Bull, for in such wise are named the men of that unhappy folk.
Now this was the cause why I might not sell her, that she was so proud
and stout that men feared her, what she might do if they had her away.
And when some spake to see her body naked, she denied it utterly,
saying that she would do a mischief to whomsoever tried it.
So I spake to him who owned her, and asked him if he thought it
good to take her a while and quell her with such pains as would spoil
her but little, and then bring her to market when she was meeker.
But he heeded my words little, and led her away, she riding on a horse
and he going afoot beside her; for the mountain-men be no horsemen."

Said Ralph: "Dost thou know at all whither he will have led her?"
Said the merchant: "By my deeming, he will have gone first of all to
the town of Whiteness, whither thy Fellowship will betake them ere long:
for he will be minded to meet there the Lord of Utterbol, who is for such
like wares; and he will either give her to him as a gift, for which
he will have a gift in return, or he will sell her to my lord at a price
if he dare to chaffer with him. At least so will he do if he be wise.
Now if the said lord hath her, it will be somewhat more than hard
for thee to get her again, till he have altogether done with her;
for money and goods are naught to him beside the doing of his will.
But there is this for thy comfort, that whereas she is so fair a woman,
she will be well with my lord. For I warrant me that she will not dare
to be proud with him, as she was with the folk here."

"Yea," said Ralph, "and what is this lord of Utterbol that
all folk, men and women, fear him so?" Said the merchant:
"Fair sir, thou must pardon me if I say no more of him.
Belike thou mayst fall in with him; and if thou dost,
take heed that thou make not thyself great with him."

So Ralph thanked the merchant and departed with Clement, of whom presently
he asked if he knew aught of this lord of Utterbol. Said Clement:
"God forbid that I should ever meet him, save where I were many and he few.
I have never seen him; but he is deemed by all men as the worst of the tyrants
who vex these lands, and, maybe, the mightiest."

So was Ralph sore at heart for the damsel, and anon he spake
to Bull again of her, who deemed somewhat, that his kinsman had
been minded at the first to sell her to the lord of Utterbol.
And Ralph thinks his game a hard one, yet deems that if he could
but find out where the damsel was, he might deliver her,
what by sleight, what by boldness.

CHAPTER 25

The Fellowship Comes to Whiteness

Two days thereafter the chapmen having done with their matters
in Cheaping Knowe, whereas they must needs keep some of
their wares for other places, and especially for Goldburg,
they dight them to be gone and rode out a-gates of a mid-morning
with banners displayed.

It was some fifty miles thence to Whiteness, which lay close
underneath the mountains, and was, as it were, the door of the passes
whereby men rode to Goldburg. The land which they passed through
was fair, both of tillage and pasture, with much cattle therein.
Everywhere they saw men and women working afield, but no houses
of worthy yeomen or vavassors, or cots of good husbandmen.
Here and there was a castle or strong-house, and here and there
long rows of ugly hovels, or whiles houses, big tall and long,
but exceeding foul and ill-favoured, such as Ralph had not yet seen
the like of. And when he asked of Clement concerning all this,
he said: "It is as I have told thee, that here be no freemen
who work afield, nay, nor villeins either. All those whom ye
have seen working have been bought and sold like to those whom
we saw standing on the Stone in the market of Cheaping Knowe,
or else were born of such cattle, and each one of them can be
bought and sold again, and they work not save under the whip.
And as for those hovels and the long and foul houses, they are
the stables wherein this kind of cattle is harboured."

Then Ralph's heart sank, and he said: "Master Clement,
I prithee tell me; were it possible that the damsel whom
I seek may be come to such a pass as one of these?"
"Nay," quoth Clement, "that is little like to be; such goodly
wares are kept for the adornment of great men's houses.
True it is that whiles the house-thralls be sent into the fields
for their punishment; yet not such as she, unless the master
be wholly wearied of them, or if their wrath outrun their wits;
for it is more to the master's profit to chastise them at home;
so keep a good heart I bid thee, and maybe we shall have
tidings at Whiteness."

So Ralph refrained his anxious heart, though forsooth his thought
was much upon the damsel and of how she was faring.

It was not till the third day at sunset that they came to Whiteness;
for on the last day of their riding they came amongst the confused
hills that lay before the great mountains, which were now often
hidden from their sight; but whenever they appeared through
the openings of the near hills, they seemed very great and terrible;
dark and bare and stony; and Clement said that they were little
better than they looked from afar. As to Whiteness, they saw it
a long way off, as it lay on a long ridge at the end of a valley:
and so long was the ridge, that behind it was nothing green;
naught but the huge and bare mountains. The westering sun fell
upon its walls and its houses, so that it looked white indeed
against those great cliffs and crags; though, said Clement,
that these were yet a good way off. Now when, after a long ride
from the hither end of the valley, they drew nigh to the town,
Ralph saw that the walls and towers were not very high or strong,
for so steep was the hill whereon the town stood, that it needed not.
Here also was no great castle within the town as at Cheaping Knowe,
and the town itself nothing so big, but long and straggling along
the top of the ridge. Cheaping Knowe was all builded of stone;
but the houses here were of timber for the most part, done over
with pargeting and whitened well. Yet was the town more cheerful
of aspect than Cheaping Knowe, and the folk who came thronging
about the chapmen at the gates not so woe-begone, and goodly enough.

Of the lord of Whiteness, Clement told that he paid tribute to him
of Cheaping Knowe, rather for love of peace than for fear of him;
for he was no ill lord, and free men lived well under him.

So the chapmen lodged in the market-place; and in two days time
Ralph got speech of the Deacon of the Chapmen of the Town;
who told him two matters; first that the lord of Utterbol had not
been in Whiteness these six months; and next that the wild man
had verily brought the damsel into the market; but he had turned
away thence suddenly with her, without bringing her to the stone,
and that it was most like that he would have the lord of Utterbol
buy her; who, since he would be deeming that he might easily
bend her to his will, would give him the better penny for her.
"At the last," quoth the Deacon, "the wild man led her away toward
the mountain pass that goeth to Goldburg, the damsel and he alone,
and she with her hands unbound and riding a little horse."
Of these tidings Ralph deemed it good that all traces of her were
not lost; but his heart misgave him when he thought that by this
time she must surely be in the hands of the lord of Utterbol.

CHAPTER 26

They Ride the Mountains Toward Goldburg

Five days the Fellowship abode at Whiteness, and or ever they
departed Clement waged men-at-arms of the lord of the town,
besides servants to look to the beasts amongst the mountains,
so that what with one, what with another, they entered the gates
of the mountains a goodly company of four score and ten.

Ralph asked of Bull if any of those whom he might meet in these mountains
were of his kindred; and he answered, nay, unless perchance there might
be some one or two going their peaceful errands there like Bull Nosy.
So Ralph armed him with a good sword and a shield, and would have given
him a steel hood also, but he would not bear it, saying that if sword
and shield could not keep his head he had well earned a split skull.

Seven days they rode the mountains, and the way was toilsome and weary enough,
for it was naught but a stony maze of the rocks where nothing living dwelt,
and nothing grew, save now and again a little dwarf willow. Yet was there
naught worse to meet save toil, because they were over strong for the wild
men to meddle with them, whereas the kindreds thereabout were but feeble.

But as it drew towards evening on the seventh day Ralph had ridden
a little ahead with Bull alone, if he might perchance have a sight
of the ending of this grievous wilderness, as Clement said might be,
since now the way was down-hill, and all waters ran east.
So as they rode, and it was about sunset, they saw something
lying by a big stone under a cliff; so they drew nigh,
and saw a man lying on his back, and they deemed he was dead.
So Bull went up to him, and leapt off his horse close by him
and bent over him, but straightway cast up his arms and set
up a long wailing whoop, and then another and another,
so that they that were behind heard it and came up upon the spur.
But Ralph leapt from his horse, and ran up to Bull and said:
"What aileth thee to whoop and wail? Who is it?" But Bull
turned about and shook his head at him, and said: "It is a man
of my kindred, even he that was leading away thy she-friend;
and belike she it was that slew him, or why is she not here:
Ochone! ahoo! ahoo!" Therewith fire ran through Ralph's heart,
and he bethought him of that other murder in the wilderness,
and he fell to wringing his hands, and cried out: "Ah, and where
is she, where is she? Is she also taken away from me for ever?
O me unhappy!"

And he drew his sword therewith, and ran about amongst the rocks
and the bushes seeking her body.

And therewith came up Clement, and others of the company, and wondered
to see Bull kneeling down by the corpse, and to hear him crying out
and wailing, and Ralph running about like one mad, and crying out now:
"Oh! that I might find her! Mayhappen she is alive yet, and anigh
here in some cleft of the rocks in this miserable wilderness. O my love
that hast lain in mine arms, wouldst thou not have me find her alive?
But if she be dead, then will I slay myself, for as young as I am,
that I may find thee and her out of the world, since from the world
both ye are gone."

Then Clement went up to Ralph, and would have a true tale out of him,
and asked him what was amiss; but Ralph stared wild at him and answered not.
But Bull cried out from where he knelt: "He is seeking the woman, and I would
that he could find her; for then would I slay her on the howe of my kinsman:
for she hath slain him; she hath slain him."

That word heard Ralph, and he ran at Bull with uplifted sword to slay him;
but Clement tripped him and he fell, and his sword flew out of his hand.
Then Clement and two of the others bound his hands with their girdles,
till they might know what had befallen; for they deemed that a devil
had entered into him, and feared that he would do a mischief to himself
or some other.

And now was the whole Fellowship assembled, and stood
in a ring round about Ralph and Bull, and the dead man;
as for him, he had been dead some time, many days belike;
but in that high and clear cold air, his carcase, whistled by
the wind, had dried rather than rotted, and his face was clear
to be seen with its great hooked nose and long black hair:
and his skull was cloven.

Now Bull had done his wailing for his kinsman, and he seemed
to wake up as from a dream, and looked about the ring
of men and spake: "Here is a great to do, my masters!
What will ye with me? Have ye heard, or is it your custom,
that when a man cometh on the dead corpse of his brother,
his own mother's son, he turneth it over with his foot,
as if it were the carcase of a dog, and so goeth on his way?
This I ask, that albeit I be but a war-taken thrall, I be
suffered to lay my brother in earth and heap a howe over him
in these mountains."

They all murmured a yeasay to this save Ralph. He had been sobered
by his fall, and was standing up now betwixt Clement and the captain,
who had unbound his hands, now that the others had come up;
he hung his head, and was ashamed of his fury by seeming.
But when Bull had spoken, and the others had answered,
Ralph said to Bull, wrathfully still, but like a man in his wits:
"Why didst thou say that thou wouldest slay her?" "Hast thou
found her?" said Bull. "Nay," quoth Ralph, sullenly. "Well, then,"
said Bull, "when thou dost find her, we will speak of it."
Said Ralph: "Why didst thou say that she hath slain him?"
"I was put out of my wits by the sight of him dead," said Bull;
"But now I say mayhappen she hath slain him."

"And mayhappen not," said Clement; "look here to the cleaving of his skull
right through this iron headpiece, which he will have bought at Cheaping Knowe
(for I have seen suchlike in the armourers' booth there): it must have taken
a strong man to do this."

"Yea," quoth the captain, "and a big sword to boot:
this is the stroke of a strong man wielding a good weapon."

Said Bull: "Well, and will my master bid me forego vengeance
for my brother's slaying, or that I bear him to purse?
Then let him slay me now, for I am his thrall." Said Ralph:
"Thou shalt do as thou wilt herein, and I also will do as I will.
For if she slew him, the taking of her captive should be set
against the slaying." "That is but right," said the captain;
"but Sir Ralph, I bid thee take the word of an old man-at-arms
for it, that she slew him not; neither she, nor any other woman."

Said Clement: "Well, let all this be. But tell me, lord Ralph,
what thou wouldst do, since now thou art come to thyself again?"
Said Ralph: "I would seek the wilderness hereabout, if perchance
the damsel be thrust into some cleft or cavern, alive or dead."

"Well," said Clement, "this is my rede. Since Bull Shockhead would bury
his brother, and lord Ralph would seek the damsel, and whereas there
is water anigh, and the sun is well nigh set, let us pitch our tents
and abide here till morning, and let night bring counsel unto some of us.
How say ye, fellows?"

None naysaid it, and they fell to pitching the tents, and lighting
the cooking-fires; but Bull at once betook him to digging a grave
for his brother, whilst Ralph with the captain and four others
went and sought all about the place, and looked into all clefts
of rocks, and found not the maiden, nor any token of her.
They were long about it, and when they were come back again,
and it was night, though the moon shone out, there was Bull
Shockhead standing by the howe of his brother Bull Nosy,
which was heaped up high over the place where they had found him.

So when Bull saw him, he turned to him and said:
"King's son, I have done what needs was for this present.
Now, wilt thou slay me for my fault, or shall I be thy man again,
and serve thee truly unless the blood feud come between us?"
Said Ralph: "Thou shalt serve me truly, and help me
to find him who hath slain thy brother, and carried off
the damsel; for even thus it hath been done meseemeth,
since about here we have seen no signs of her alive or dead.
But to-morrow we shall seek wider ere I ride on my way."
"Yea," said Bull, "and I will be one in the search."

So then they gat them to their sleeping-berths, and Ralph,
contrary to his wont, lay long awake, pondering these things;
till at last he said to himself that this woman, whom he called Dorothea,
was certainly alive, and wotted that he was seeking her.
And then it seemed to him that he could behold her through
the darkness of night, clad in the green flowered gown as he had
first seen her, and she bewailing her captivity and the long
tarrying of the deliverer as she went to and fro in a great chamber
builded of marble and done about with gold and bright colours:
and or ever he slept, he deemed this to be a vision of what then was,
rather than a memory of what had been; and it was sweet to
his very soul.

CHAPTER 27

Clement Tells of Goldburg

Now when it was morning he rose early and roused Bull and the captain,
and they searched in divers places where they had not been the night before,
and even a good way back about the road they had ridden yesterday,
but found no tidings. And Ralph said to himself that this was naught
but what he had looked for after that vision of the night.

So he rode with his fellows somewhat shamefaced that they had seen
that sudden madness in him; but was presently of better cheer than
he had been yet. He rode beside Clement; they went downhill speedily,
and the wilderness began to better, and there was grass at whiles,
and bushes here and there. A little after noon they came out of a pass
cleft deep through the rocks by a swift stream which had once been far
greater than then, and climbed up a steep ridge that lay across the road,
and looking down from the top of it, beheld the open country again.
But this was otherwise from what they had beheld from the mountain's
brow above Cheaping Knowe. For thence the mountains beyond Whiteness,
even those that they had just ridden, were clear to be seen like the wall
of the plain country. But here, looking adown, the land below them
seemed but a great spreading plain with no hills rising from it,
save that far away they could see a certain break in it, and amidst that,
something that was brighter than the face of the land elsewhere.
Clement told Ralph that this was Goldburg and that it was built on
a gathering of hills, not great, but going up steep from the plain.
And the plain, said he, was not so wholly flat and even as it looked
from up there, but swelled at whiles into downs and low hills.
He told him that Goldburg was an exceeding fair town to behold;
that the lord who had built it had brought from over the mountains masons
and wood-wrights and artificers of all kinds, that they might make it as fair
as might be, and that he spared on it neither wealth nor toil nor pains.
For in sooth he deemed that he should find the Well at the World's End,
and drink thereof, and live long and young and fair past all record;
therefore had he builded this city, to be the house and home of
his long-enduring joyance.

Now some said that he had found the Well, and drank thereof;
others naysaid that; but all deemed that they knew how that Goldburg
was not done building ere that lord was slain in a tumult,
and that what was then undone was cobbled up after the uncomely
fashion of the towns thereabout.

Clement said moreover that, this happy lord dead, things had not
gone so well there as had been looked for. Forsooth it had been
that lord's will and meaning that all folks in Goldburg should thrive,
both those who wrought and those for whom they wrought.
But it went not so, but there were many poor folk there,
and few wealthy.

Again said Clement that though the tillers and toilers of
Goldburg were not for the most part mere thralls and chattels,
as in the lands beyond the mountains behind them, yet were they
little more thriving for that cause; whereas they belonged
not to a master, who must at worst feed them, and to no manor,
whose acres they might till for their livelihood, and on whose
pastures they might feed their cattle; nor had they any to help
or sustain them against the oppressor and the violent man;
so that they toiled and swinked and died with none heeding them,
save they that had the work of their hands good cheap; and they
forsooth heeded them less than their draught beasts whom they must
needs buy with money, and whose bellies they must needs fill;
whereas these poor wretches were slaves without a price,
and if one died another took his place on the chance that thereby
he might escape present death by hunger, for there was a great
many of them.

CHAPTER 28

Now They Come to Goldburg

That night they slept yet amongst the mountains, or rather in
the first of the hill country at their feet; but on the morrow they
rode down into the lowlands, and thereby lost all sight of Goldburg,
and it was yet afar off, so that they rode four days through
lands well-tilled, but for the most part ill-housed, a country
of little hills and hollows and rising grounds, before they came
in sight of it again heaving up huge and bright under the sun.
It was built partly on three hills, the buttresses of a long ridge
which turned a wide river, and on the ridge itself, and partly on
the flat shore of the river, on either side, hillward and plainward:
but a great white wall girt it all about, which went right over
the river as a bridge, and on the plain side it was exceeding high,
so that its battlements might be somewhat evened with those of
the hill-wall above. So that as they came up to the place they
saw little of the town because of the enormity of the wall;
scarce aught save a spire or a tall towering roof here and there.

So when they were come anigh the gate, they displayed their banners and
rode right up to it; and people thronged the walls to see their riding.
One by one they passed through the wicket of the gate: which gate itself
was verily huge beyond measure, all built of great ashlar-stones; and when
they were within, it was like a hall somewhat long and exceeding high,
most fairly vaulted; midmost of the said hall they rode through a noble
arch on their right hand, and lo another hall exceeding long, but lower
than the first, with many glazen windows set in its townward wall;
and when they looked through these, they saw the river running underneath;
for this was naught but the lower bridge of the city and they learned
afterwards and saw, that above the vault of this long bridge rose up
the castle, chamber on chamber, till its battlements were level with
the highest towers of the wall on the hill top.

Thus they passed the bridge, and turning to the left at its ending,
came into the Water-Street of Goldburg, where the river,
with wide quays on either side thereof, ran betwixt the houses.
As for these, beneath the dwellings went a fair arched passage
like to the ambulatory of an abbey; and every house all along this
street was a palace for its goodliness. The houses were built of
white stones and red and grey; with shapely pillars to the cloister,
and all about carvings of imagery and knots of flowers;
goodly were the windows and all glazed, as fair as might be.
On the river were great barges, and other craft such as were not
sea-goers, river-ships that might get them through the bridges
and furnished with masts that might be lowered and shipped.

Much people was gathered to see the chapmen enter,
yet scarce so many as might be looked for in so goodly
a town; yea, and many of the folk were clad foully, and were
haggard of countenance, and cried on the chapmen for alms.
Howbeit some were clad gaily and richly enough, and were fair
of favour as any that Ralph had seen since he left Upmeads:
and amongst these goodly folk were women not a few, whose gear
and bearing called to Ralph's mind the women of the Wheatwearers
whom he had seen erst in the Burg of the Four Friths, whereas they
were somewhat wantonly clad in scanty and thin raiment.
And of these, though they were not all thralls, were many
who were in servitude: for, as Clement did Ralph to wit,
though the tillers of the soil, and the herdsmen, in short
the hewers of wood and drawers of water, were men masterless,
yet rich men might and did buy both men and women for servants
in their houses, and for their pleasure and profit in divers wise.

So they rode to their hostel in the market place, which lay a little
back from the river in an ingle of the ridge and one of its buttresses;
and all round the said market were houses as fair as the first they had seen:
but above, on the hill-sides, save for the castle and palace of the Queen
(for a woman ruled in Goldburg), were the houses but low, poorly built
of post and pan, and thatched with straw, or reed, or shingle.
But the great church was all along one side of the market place;
and albeit this folk was somewhat wild and strange of faith for Christian men,
yet was it dainty and delicate as might be, and its steeples and bell-towers
were high and well builded, and adorned exceeding richly.

So they lighted down at their hostel, and never had Ralph seen such another,
for the court within was very great and with a fair garden filled with
flowers and orchard-trees, and amidst it was a fountain of fresh water,
built in the goodliest fashion of many-coloured marble-stones. And
the arched and pillared way about the said court was as fair as the cloister
of a mitred abbey; and the hall for the guests was of like fashion,
vaulted with marvellous cunning, and with a row of pillars amidmost.

There they abode in good entertainment; yet this noted Ralph, that as goodly
as was the fashion of the building of that house, yet the hangings and beds,
and stools, and chairs, and other plenishing were no richer or better than
might be seen in the hostelry of any good town.

So they went bedward, and Ralph slept dreamlessly, as was mostly his wont.

CHAPTER 29

Of Goldburg and the Queen Thereof

On the morrow, when Ralph and Clement met in the hall,
Clement spake and said: "Lord Ralph, as I told thee in Whitwall,
we chapmen are now at the end of our outward journey, and in
about twenty days time we shall turn back to the mountains;
but, as I deem, thou wilt be minded to follow up thy quest
of the damsel, and whatsoever else thou mayst be seeking.
Now this thou mayst well do whiles we are here in Goldburg,
and yet come back hither in time to fare back with us:
and also, if thou wilt, thou mayst have fellows in thy quest,
to wit some of those our men-at-arms, who love thee well.
But now, when thou hast done thy best these days during, if thou
hast then found naught, I counsel thee and beseech thee to come
thy ways back with us, that we twain may wend to Upmeads together,
where thou shalt live well, and better all the deeds of thy father.
Meseemeth this will be more meet for thee than the casting away
of thy life in seeking a woman, who maybe will be naught to thee
when thou hast found her; or in chasing some castle in the clouds,
that shall be never the nigher to thee, how far soever thou farest.
For now I tell thee that I have known this while how thou art
seeking the Well at the World's End; and who knoweth that there
is any such thing on the earth? Come, then, thou art fair,
and young, and strong; and if ye seek wealth thou shalt have it,
and my furtherance to the utmost, if that be aught worth.
Bethink thee, child, there are they that love thee in Upmeads
and thereabout, were it but thy gossip, my wife, dame Katherine."

Said Ralph: "Master Clement, I thank thee for all
that thou hast said, and thy behest, and thy deeds.
Thy rede is good, and in all ways will I follow it save one;
to wit, that if I have not found the damsel ere ye turn back,
I must needs abide in this land searching for her.
And I pray the pardon both of thee and of thy gossip, if I
answer not your love as ye would, and perchance as I should.
Yea, and of Upmeads also I crave pardon. But in doing as I do,
my deed shall be but according to the duty bounden on me
by mine oath, when Duke Osmond made me knight last year,
in the church of St. Laurence of Upmeads."

Said Clement: "I see that there is something else in it than that;
I see thee to be young, and that love and desire bind thee in closer bonds
than thy knightly oath. Well, so it must be, and till thou hast her,
there is but one woman in the world for thee."

"Nay, it is not so, Master Clement," said Ralph, "and I will tell
thee this, so that thou mayst trow my naysay; since I departed
from Upmeads, I have been taken in the toils of love, and desired
a fair woman, and I have won her and death hath taken her.
Trowest thou my word?"

"Yea," said Clement, "but to one of thy years love is not plucked up
by the root, and it soon groweth again." Then said Ralph, sadly:
"Now tell my gossip of this when thou comest home."
Clement nodded yeasay, and Ralph spake again in a moment:
"And now will I begin my search in Goldburg by praying thee
to bring me to speech of merchants and others who may have seen
or heard tidings of my damsel."

He looked at Clement anxiously as he spoke; and Clement smiled,
for he said to himself that looking into Ralph's heart on this
matter was like looking into a chamber through an open window.
But he said: "Fear not but I will look to it; I am thy friend,
and not thy schoolmaster."

Therewith he departed from Ralph, and within three days he had brought
him to speech of all those who were like to know anything of the matter;
and one and all they said that they had seen no such woman, and that as
for the Lord of Utterbol, he had not been in Goldburg these three months.
But one of the merchants said: "Master Clement, if this young knight is boun
for Utterbol, he beareth his life in his hand, as thou knowest full well.
Now I rede thee bring him to our Queen, who is good and compassionate,
and if she may not help him otherwise, yet belike she may give him
in writing to show to that tyrant, which may stand him in stead:
for it does not do for any man to go against the will of our Lady and Queen;
who will surely pay him back for his ill-will some day or other."
Said Clement: "It is well thought of, and I will surely do as thou biddest."

So wore four days, and, that time during, Ralph was going to and fro
asking questions of folk that he came across, as people new come
to the city and hunters from the mountain-feet and the forests
of the plain, and mariners and such like, concerning the damsel
and the Lord of Utterbol; and Bull also went about seeking tidings:
but whereas Ralph asked downright what he wanted to know, Bull was wary,
and rather led men on to talk with him concerning those things
than asked them of them in such wise that they saw the question.
Albeit it was all one, and no tidings came to them; indeed, the name
of the Lord of Utterbol (whom forsooth Bull named not) seemed to freeze
the speech of men's tongues, and they commonly went away at once
when it was spoken.

On the fifth day came Clement to Ralph and said:
"Now will I bring thee to the Queen, and she is young, and so fair,
and withal so wise, that it seems to me not all so sure but that
the sight of her will make an end of thy quest once for all.
So that meseems thou mayest abide here in a life far better
than wandering amongst uncouth folk, perilous and cruel.
Yea, so thou mayst have it if thou wilt, being so exceeding goodly,
and wise, and well-spoken, and of high lineage."

Ralph heard and reddened, but gave him back no answer;
and they went together to the High House of the Queen,
which was like a piece of the Kingdom of Heaven for loveliness,
so many pillars as there were of bright marble stone,

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