The Story and Song of Black Roderick Part 2

"What didst thou tell to her, old witch?" quoth the Black Earl, "as she pa.s.sed weeping? Didst thou speak to her no word?"

"I stopped her as she pa.s.sed me, proud Earl," quoth the crone, "for she was gentle, and held her head not too high to look upon one old and near unto death.

"'Weep not,' said I, 'but spread to me thy fingers, so I may read what fate thou holdest in thy palm.' And like a child she smiled between her tears.

"'Look only on luck,' quoth she, 'oh, ancient one, lest my heart break even now.' I spread her pink fingertips out as one would unruffle a rose, and read therein her fate."

"And what read you there?" said the Black Earl, impatient with her delay.

"I read," quoth the crone, "and if I say, thou must keep thy anger from me, for what I read I had not written:

_"I traced upon her slender palm That luck was changing soon; I swore that peace would come to her Before another moon._

_"I said that he who loved her well Would robe her all in silk, And bear her in a coach of gold, With palfreys white as milk._

_"I told, before three suns had set He'd kneel down by her side; That he she loved would love her well, And she would be his bride._

"'This before three suns have set,' so read I," quoth the crone.

Now, when the Black Earl heard so much, he would hear no more. Pallid grew his angry cheek, and his eyes were full of fire; he flung himself upon his horse, and, sparing not the beast, galloped home.

"In the highest tower shall I lock the jade," quoth he, "lest she bring me shame; for what her palm had writ upon it one must believe, and who dare love her, save I who will not? And should I die, wherefore should she not be another's? And should I not die--but this no man dare, for I shall tear his tongue from his mouth, his ear from his cheek, his heart from his body, ere he speak or listen to a word to my dishonor."

Now, when he reached his castle, no man ventured to speak to him, or look upon him with too inquisitive an eye, for his anger was such that one trembled to approach him.

And at the gate of his castle sat his old love upon her palfrey, with a stern face and grim; behind her, resting upon their way, came her followers, knight and lady, gay with banner and spear, whispering in their telling of the story.

"A curse upon the wandering feet that have brought disgrace upon thy house," quoth his old love, her hand so tight upon the rein that the two pages could hardly keep the horse from rearing.

But the proud Earl to her made no answer, neither to bid her welcome, nor to bid her go, nor to speak of his fears. Into his breast he locked his grief so that none might know the strain wellnigh broke the stony casket of his heart.

When he leaped from his horse there came to him his little brother.

"My grief!" said the boy, "what has happened in the night, for I heard the banshee sobbing so bitterly through the dark?"

No answer made the Black Earl to the boy, neither did he lift him in his arms nor chide him for his weeping, but pa.s.sed silent into his own chamber, and crouched within his chair. When after a time he raised his eyes, he seemed to see his young bride gazing upon him from the open door.

And in his anger he sprang to seize her, but only the empty air came to his hands.

He mounted the marble stairs to her chamber to seek her there, but only found a sewing-maid, pale and deadly faint.

"Oh, sharp sorrow," quoth she, "from what I have seen this night, Mary protect me! A white ghost have I seen--evil it may bring to me--a white ghost with dim eyes of the dead!"

"Whither went she?" said the Black Earl, angry in his need.

"Into thy chamber, great Earl!" cried the maid; "I saw her at thy bed-head weeping piteously."

"It was thy lady," quoth the Earl; "lead me her way, and stop thy lamentation."

"My grief!" the girl said, "her way I know not; when I, deeming her my mistress, reached her side, she was no more. It is an evil day that cometh upon us."

Now, when the proud Roderick saw the girl so full of fear, he chid her cruelly and bade her go. Yet when she had left him he felt a strange and unwonted coldness settle upon his heart.

The anger against his young bride was quenched, and a dewlike fear grew upon him. But of what befell him I shall now sing to thee, lest thou grow weary of my prose:

_All silent Black Earl Roderick Went to his room away, Full angry, with his throbbing heart And fitful fancy's play._

_He sat him by the bright hearth-side, And turned towards the door; And there upon the threshold stood His lady, weeping sore._

_He chased her down the winding stair, And out into the night, But only found a withered crone, With long hair, loose and white._

_"Come hither now, you sly-faced witch; Come hither now to me.

Say if a lady all so pale Your evil eyes did see?"_

_"Oh, true, I saw a little la.s.s, She went all white as snow; She crossed my hands with silver crown Just two short hours ago."_

_"What did you tell the foolish wench, Who must my lady be?

The false tale you did tell to her You now must tell to me."_

_"I hate you, Black Earl Roderick, You're cruel, hard, and cold; Yet you shall grieve like a young child Before the moon is cold._

_"This did I tell her, like a queen She'd ride into the town; And every man who met her there Would on his knees go down._

_"I said that he who followed none Would walk behind her now, And in his trembling hand the helm From his uncovered brow._

_"Then he should walk, while she would ride, Through all the town away; And greater than Earl Roderick She would become that day."_

And now shall I tell how laughed the Black Earl aloud and scornful at the witch's tale.

"No lady in the land," quoth he, "could so enslave me, and no woman yet was born who hath my honor and glory."

So spoke Earl Roderick, and by these words shalt thou hold him, heart-whole and vain withal, for the hour of his sorrow had not yet struck.

Now turned he to the dame, and, chiding her, bade her begone.

"Thy tale," saith he, "is full of weariness. It hath neither wisdom nor truth."

Turning from her in anger, home went he, and flung himself before the dying fire in his chamber, a frown between his brows. And again a cold fear turned closely about his heart. Raising his eyes, he saw no more terrible a thing than his young bride, with a face of grievous pain, looking upon him from the door. Then he spoke her gently.

"Come," quoth he, "sad-faced one, why dost thou torment me? One question only shall I ask thee, and this must thou answer. Whom hast thou met upon the hill? For the witch woman hath told me a wearisome tale, which I shall not lend my ear to."

Now, when he spoke, his young bride neither answered nor came, but gazed from the threshold upon him in silence. So he got up in anger and went her way. Through the chamber strode he, and she was yet before him, and without sound went she down the hall and stair. So out through the open door, and the men-at-arms let her pa.s.s, though the Black Earl bid them stay her feet, and gazed bewildered, seeing only their stern master running alone, with fierce eyes, such as a hound doth cast upon a young hare. Quick as the Black Earl ran, the little bride was before.

Through sleepy woods and honey-perfumed plains, all through the night did he chase her, but never once did he reach her, nor ever once did she pause to rest.

When the morning sun was high, she led him up to the lights of Brown Kippure, and there vanished from his sight.

Now, when the Black Earl perceived this wondrous thing, he felt his heart sink with utter weariness, and without more seeking fell upon the moss.

Had his eyes been not so hot with anger, slow tears of sorrow would have forced their way upon his cheeks, for now that he had her not his desire was strong upon him to behold his bride.