The Serf Part 23

CHAPTER XIV

"So, some time, when the last of all our evenings Crowneth memorially the last of all our days, Not loth to take his poppies, man goes down and says: '_Sufficient for the day were the day's evil things_.'"

Free will, warring with fate, produces Tragedy, so it is said. To-day, we have lost much of the significance of the old "[Greek: traG.o.dia]."

When the priest poets Tyrtaeus and aeschylus clamorously exalted--held high that all might see--the G.o.dhead of men who fight and do, it was not so much the tragedy itself, but the circ.u.mstances that made it which inspired men's hearts.

"Free will warring with Fate"--it was the clash of that fine battle, which those old Greeks found significant and uplifting.

For a moment let us look into this so seeming-piteous a one of ours, on which soon the iron curtain is resonantly to fall.

It is a hard, stern story this of our poor serf. The rebel lifted his hand against an established force. For that he perished in bitter agony. But, going so soon to his death, he shows us a Man in spite of all his woes. And we can be uplifted in contemplating that. It is Hyla's message to us no less than to his scarred brethren on the castle hill.

The Lord of Hilgay could maim and kill his body, but the Manhood in him was a flame unquenchable, and burnt a mark upon his age. The clash of his battle rings through centuries.

His doings sowed a seed, and we ourselves sit to-day in that great blood-nourished tree of Freedom which sprang therefrom.

The stars that night were singularly bright and vivid. The sky was powdered with a dust of light, among which the greater stars burned like lamps.

Below that glorious canopy Hyla lay in an uneasy sleep. Every now and then he awoke, chilled to the bone. Though the stars were all so clear and bright they seemed very remote from this world and all its business, as he looked up with staring, miserable eyes. Hyla believed, as little children in Spain are taught to this day, that the stars were but c.h.i.n.ks, holes, and gaps in the floor of heaven itself. He thought their bright white light but an overflow of the great white radiance of G.o.d's Home.

That comforted him but little as he lay cold and hungry in the swamp.

Indeed it was easier to pray in the day-time, when even a hint of heaven was absent. The enormous radiance was so remote in its splendour. It accentuated his forlorn and forgotten state.

He was lying but a few yards from the edge of the broad pool which barred his progress, and as the hours wore on and the stars paled, the blackness of the water became grey and tremulous.

It was nearing dawn, though the sun had not yet risen, when he thought he saw a red flicker in the mist which lay over the lagoon. It was too ruddy and full-coloured for a marsh light, and his hopes leapt up, half doubting, at the sight. In a moment or two, the light became plainer, and he knew he was not deceived. The thing was real. It advanced towards him, and seemed like a torch.

He sent a husky shout out over the water. Whether the light betokened advance of friend or foe he did not know or care.

No answer came to his call, but he saw the red light become stationary immediately, and cease to flicker.

He shouted again louder than before, standing up on the rotting log, and filling his lungs with air. An answering voice came out of the mist at this, and the light moved again.

And now the grey waste began to tremble with light. The sun was rising, and at the first hint of his approach, the mists began to sway and dissolve.

Coming straight towards the bank, Hyla saw a fen punt urged by a tall, thin man dressed in skins like a serf. He used the long pole with skill, and seemed thoroughly at home in the management of his boat.

About six yards from the sh.o.r.e, he dug his pole deep down and checked the motion of the punt. Hyla waded down among the mud as far as was safe, and hailed him. "For the love of G.o.d, sir," he said, "take me from this swamp."

The stranger regarded him fixedly for a moment, without answering. Then he spoke in a slow, deliberate, but resonant voice.

"Who are you? How have you come here in this waste? I thought no man could come where you are."

"I am starving for food," said Hyla, "and like to die in the marsh an you do not take me in your boat. I am of Icomb, thrall to the Prior Sir Richard. The Lord of Hilgay's men took me and another who lies dead in the swamp. They were upon the big lake when the boat upset, and all were drowned save one. He has got him back to the castle, and I am journeying to Icomb, if perchance I may come there safely."

"You tell of strange things," said the tall man, "and I will presently ask you more of them. Now hearken. I am not one of those who give, taking nothing in return. I will take you safe back to the Fathers, and feed you with food. But for three days you must labour for me in work that waits to be done in my field. I need a man's arm."

"For a week. If by that you will save me from this."

"So be it," said the tall man with great promptness. "You shall work for a week, and then I will take you to Icomb."

With that he loosened the dripping pole, drove it again into the water, and the nose of the punt glided up to Hyla.

He clambered carefully on board, and sat dripping.

"I have no food here," said the man, "for I live hard by, and did but come out to look at some lines I set down overnight, but we shall soon be there."

As he spoke he was poling vigorously, and they were already half way over the pool.

As they neared the opposite sh.o.r.e, Hyla saw the reeds grew to a great height above them, forming a thick screen with apparently an unbroken face. But he knew that suddenly they would come upon an opening which would be quite imperceptible to the ordinary eye, and so it proved.

With a sure hand the stranger sent the bows at a break but a yard wide in the reeds. The punt went hissing through the narrow pa.s.sage, pus.h.i.+ng the reeds aside for a moment, only that they should spring back again after its pa.s.sage. A few yards through the thick growth brought them into a circular pool or basin. This also was surrounded with reeds which towered up into the air. It was very small in diameter, and floating on its placid black water was like being at the bottom of a jar.

The place was full of the earliest sunlights and busy with the newly awakened life of the fen.

But what arrested the serf's immediate attention was a curious structure at the far side of the pool. It resembled nothing so much as a small house-boat. A wooden hut had been built upon a floating platform of timber, and the whole was moored to a stout pile which projected some three feet from the water.

A fire smouldered on the deck in front of the hut, and a cooking pot hung over it by a chain.

"This is my home," said the man, pointing towards the raft. "Where I go I take my house with me, and ask no man's leave. I have lived on this pool for near two years now."

They landed on the raft.

"Now you shall fill your belly, Sir Wanderer," said the man, "and then I will hear more of you. Here is a mess of hare, marsh quail, and herbs.

It's fit for a lord eke a thrall, for I see you wear a thrall's collar.

Here is a wooden bowl, fill it, and so thyself."

He came out of the cabin with two rough wooden bowls, which he dipped and filled in the cauldron.

Then for a s.p.a.ce, while the sun rode up the sky, there was no sound heard but the feeding of hungry men.

Hyla began to feel the blood moving in him once more, and the strength of manhood returning. The sun shone on his chilled limbs and warmed them, the night was over.

At the finish of the meal the tall man turned on him suddenly and without preparation. "How should Hyla of the long arms, thrall of Geoffroi de la Bourne, be making his way to Richard Espec? Has the devil then made friends with Holy Church? Is Geoffroi about to profess for a monk?"

Hyla stared at him stupidly with open mouth, and swift fear began to knock at his heart.

"I doubt me there is something strange here," said the tall man, with a sudden bark of anger. "There is something black here, my good rogue. I pray you throw a little light upon this. If ever I saw a man with fear writ upon him you are that man, Hyla. I beg leave to think there are others of you not far away! There are more from Hilgay about us in the fen."

Hyla glanced hurriedly round the quiet little pool. "Where? where?" he said in a tone of unmistakable terror. "Have you seen them, then? Are they in wait to take me?"

The other looked at him with a long searching glance for near a minute.

"We two be at a tangle," he said at length. "You are in flight, then, from the Hilgay men?"