The Geste of Duke Jocelyn Part 14

"And yet," said Jocelyn, "thou thyself art rogue and thief confessed. How then art better than these thy fellows?"

"By degree, Sir Fool. Even as thou'rt Fool o' folly uncommon, so am I no ordinary rogue, being rogue o' rare parts with power of rogues i' the wild wood, while these be but puny rogues of no parts soever."

"No rogues are we!" the three did loudly cry,

"But sad, poor souls, that peris.h.i.+ng do lie!"

"In me," quoth one, "behold a man of worth, By trade a dyer and yclepen Gurth; In all this world no man, howe'er he try, Could live a life so innocent as I!"

The second spake: "I am the ploughman Rick, That ne'er harmed man or woman, maid or chick!

But here in direful dungeon doomed be I, Yet cannot tell the wherefore nor the why."

Then spake Red-head, albeit gasping still: "An honest tanner I, my name is Will; 'T was me thou kickedst, Fool, in such ill manner, Of crimes unjust accused--and I, a tanner!"

Here Joc'lyn smiled. "Most saintly rogues," said he; "The Saints, methinks, were rogues compared with ye, And one must needs in prison come who'd find The n.o.blest, worthiest, best of all mankind.

Poor, ill-used knaves, to lie in dungeon pent, Rogues sin-less quite, and eke so innocent, What though your looks another tale do tell, Since I'm your fellow, fellows let us dwell, For if ye're rogues that thus in bonds do lie, So I'm a rogue since here in bonds am I, Thus I, a rogue, do hail ye each a brother, Like brethren, then, we 'll comfort one another."

Thus spake Jocelyn, whereafter these "saintly rogues" all three grew mightily peevish and, withal, gloomy, while Robin laughed and laughed at them, nodding head and wagging finger.

"Prithee, good Motley," he questioned, "what should bring so rare a Fool to lie in dungeon fettered and gyved along of innocent rogues and roguish robber?"

Whereto Duke Jocelyn answered on this wise: "Hast heard, belike, of Gui the Red?"

(Here went there up a howl) "A mighty lord of whom't is said, That few do love and many dread."

(Here went there up a growl)

"This potent lord I chanced to view, Behaving as no lord should do, And thereupon, this lord I threw In pretty, plas.h.i.+ng pool!

"Whereon this dreadful lord did get Exceeding wroth and very wet; Wherefore in dungeon here I'm set, For fierce and froward Fool."

Here went there up a shout of glee.

Cried Robin: "O sweet Fool, I would I had been there to see This haughty lord of high degree In pretty, plas.h.i.+ng pool."

Here shout of glee became a roar, That made the dungeon ring; They laughed, they rolled upon the floor, Till suddenly the ma.s.sy door On creaking hinge did swing; And to them the head jailer now appeared, A sombre man who sighed through tangled beard.

"How now, rogue-lads," said he, "grow ye merry in sooth by reason o' this Fool! Aye me, all men do grow merry save only I, Ranulph, Chief Torturer, Ranulph o' the Keys, o' the Gibbet, o' the City Axe--poor Ranulph the Headsman. Good lack! I've cut off the head o' many a man merrier than I-- aye, that have I, and more's the pity! And now, ye that are to die so soon can wax joyous along o' this motley Fool! Why, 't is a manifest good Fool, and rare singer o' songs, 't is said, though malapert, with no respect for his betters and over-quick at dagger-play. So 't is a Fool must die and sing no more, and there's the pity on't for I do love a song, I--being a companionable soul and jovial withal, aye, a very bawc.o.c.k of a boy, I.

To-morrow Red Gui doth hale ye to his Castle o' the Rock, there to die all five for his good pleasure, as is very fitting and proper, so be merry whiles ye may. Meantime, behold here another rogue, a youngling imp. So is five become six, and six may laugh louder than five, methinks, so laugh your best."

Then Ranulph o' the Keys sighed, closed the great door and went his way, leaving the new captive to their mercies. Fair he was and slender, and of a timid seeming, for now he crouched against the wall, his face hid 'neath the hood of ragged mantle; wherefore the "saintly" three incontinent scowled upon him, roared at him and made a horrid clas.h.i.+ng with their fetters:

"Ha, blood and bones!" cried Rick the Ploughman. "What murderous babe art thou to go unshackled in presence o' thy betters?"

"Aye, forsooth," growled Will the Tanner, "who 'rt thou to come hither distressing the last hours o' we poor, peris.h.i.+ng mortals? Discourse, lest I bite the heart o' thee!"

"p.r.o.nounce, imp!" roared Gurth the Dyer, "lest I tear thy liver!"

"Sit ye, here beside me, youth," said Jocelyn, "and presently thou shalt know these tearers of livers and biters of hearts for lambs of innocence and doves of gentleness--by their own confessions. For, remark now, gentle boy, all we are prisoners and therefore guiltless of every offence--indeed, where is the prisoner, but who, according to himself, is not more sinned against than sinner, and where the convicted rogue but, with his tongue, shall disprove all men's testimony? So here sit three guileless men, spotless of soul and beyond all thought innocent of every sin soever.

Yonder is Rob, a robber, and here sit I, a Fool."

"Ha!" cried Rick. "Yet murderous Fool art thou and apt to dagger-play!

Belike hast slain a man this day in way o' folly--ha?"

"Two!" answered Jocelyn, nodding. "These two had been more but that my dagger brake."

Here was silence awhile what time Jocelyn hummed the line of a song and his companions eyed him with looks askance.

"Why then, good Folly," said Rick at last, "'t is for a little spilling o'

blood art here, a little, pretty business o' murder--ha?"

"'T is so they name it," answered Jocelyn.

"Bones o' me!" growled Will, "I do begin to love this Fool."

"And didst p.r.o.nounce thyself our brother, Fool?" questioned Gurth.

"Aye, verily!"

"Then brethren let us be henceforth, and comrades to boot!" cried Rick.

"Jolly Clerks o' Saint Nicholas to share and share alike--ha? So then 't is accorded. And now what o' yon lily-livered imp? 'T is a sickly youth and I love him not. But he hath a cloak, look'ee--a cloak forsooth and poor Rick's a-cold! Ho, lad--throw me thy cloak!"

"Beshrew me!" roared Gurth. "But he beareth belt and wallet! Ha, boy, give thy wallet and girdle--bestow!"

"And by sweet Saint Nick," growled Will, "the dainty youngling disporteth himself to mine eyes in a gold finger-ring! Aha, boy! Give now thy trinket unto an honest tanner."

Hereupon and with one accord up started the three, fierce-eyed; but Jocelyn, laughing, rose up also.

"Back, corpses!" quoth he, swinging the heavy fetters to and fro between shackled wrists. "Stand, good Masters Dry-bones; of what avail cloak, or wallet, or ring to ye that are dead men? Now, since corpses ye are insomuch as concerneth this world, be ye reasonable and kindly corpses.

Sit ye then, Masters Dust-and-Ashes, and I will incontinent sing ye, chant or intone ye a little song of organs and graves and the gallows-tree whereon we must dance anon; as, hearken:

"Sing a song of corpses three That ere long shall dancing be, On the merry gallows-tree-- High and low, To and fro, Leaping, skipping, Turning, tripping, Wriggling, whirling, Twisting, twirling: Sing hey for the gallows-tree."

"Stint--stint thy beastly song now!" cried Will, pale of cheek. But Jocelyn sang the louder:

"Sing a song of dying groans, Sing a song of cries and moans, Sing a song of dead men's bones, That shall rest, All unblest, To rot and rot, Remembered not, For dogs to gnaw And battle for, Sing hey for the dead rogue's bones."

"Abate--ha--abate thy fiendish rant!" cried Rick, glancing fearfully over shoulder.

"Aye, Fool--beseech thee! Fair flesh may not abide it!" cried Gurth, s.h.i.+vering, while Robin grinned no more and the fearful youth leaned wide-eyed to behold the singer, this strange, scarred face beneath its battered c.o.c.k's-comb, these joyous eyes, these smiling lips as Jocelyn continued:

"Now ends my song with ghosts forlorn, Three gibbering ghosts that mope and mourn, Then shrieking, flee at breath of dawn, Where creatures fell In torment dwell, Blind things and foul, That creep and howl, That rend and bite And claw and fight.

Where fires red-hot Consume them not, And they in anguish Writhe and languish And groan in pain For night again.

Sing hey for pale ghosts forlorn."

Now when the song was ended, the three looked dismally on one another and, bethinking them of their cruel end, they groaned and sighed lamentably:

My daughter GILLIAN interposeth:

GILL: Father, I like that song, it's fine; But let me ask about this line: "Blind things and foul, That creep and howl."

Now tell me, please, if you don't mind, Why were the little horrors blind?

MYSELF: The beastly things, as I surmise, Had scratched out one another's eyes.