Beltane the Smith Part 66

"Master--master!" groaned Roger, and therewith a great cry brake from him and he cast himself face downwards in the dust. "Unworthy am I to be thy man, so must I leave thee this night--aye, leave thee! For O my lord! yon poor blind man--'twas I--at the Red Pertolepe's command-- 'twas I--did burn out his eyes and--cut off his hand--'twas I--I--Black Roger! O Saint Cuthbert! O sweet Jesu! So all unworthy am I to be thy man!"

And now great sobs shook him, fierce sobs and bitter, and he writhed there in the dust, groaning in the agony of his remorse. Little by little his pa.s.sion spent itself, but still he lay there, yearning mightily for sound of his master's voice or touch of his hand, yet dared he not look up because of his abas.e.m.e.nt.

At last, whenas his sobs had ceased, he lifted his wretched head and stared in wide-eyed wonder to see Beltane upon his knees, his mailed hands clasped and his lips moving in silent prayer; when, his prayer ended, he raised his head and straightway Roger's wonder grew, for behold! the eyes of Beltane were wondrous gentle, his mouth sweet-curved and tender, the old harsh lines of grim-curled lip and lowering brow had vanished quite; and thus at last Black Roger saw again the face of my Beltane that had smiled on him long since amid the green across the prostrate form of poor Beda the Jester. So now, my Beltane smiled, and smiling, reached forth his hand.

"Roger," said he, "by shame and agony some men do win to new life and fuller manhood, and such a man, methinks, thou art. So hath G.o.d need of thee, and from this the dust of thy abas.e.m.e.nt, mayhap, shall lift thee, one day, high as heaven. Stand up, Roger, good my friend, stand up, O man, for he only is unworthy that ne'er hath wept remorseful in the dust for evil past and done."

Then Roger grasped that strong, uplifting hand, and stood upon his feet, yet spake he no word; and presently they went on along the road together.

And Roger's habit was stained with dust, and on his cheek the mark of bitter tears--but his head was high and manfully uplifted.

CHAPTER LII

HOW THEY HAD NEWS OF WALKYN

Now went they in silence again for that Beltane dreamed of many things while Roger marvelled within himself, oft turning to look on my Beltane's radiant face, while ever his wonder grew; so oft did he turn thus to gape and stare that Beltane, chancing to meet his look, smiled and questioned him, thus:

"Why gape ye on me so, Roger man?"

"For wonder, master."

"Wherefore?"

"To see thee so suddenly thyself again--truly Saint Cuthbert is a potent saint!"

"And thou a st.u.r.dy pray-er, good Roger."

"And most vile sinner, lord. Howbeit I have dared supplicate on thy behalf and behold! thou art indeed thyself again--that same sweet and gentle youth that smote me on my knavish mazzard with thy stout quarter-staff in Shevening Thicket in the matter of Beda, Red Pertolepe's fool--a dour ding, yon, master--forsooth, a woundy rap!"

Now fell they to thoughtful silence again, but oft Black Roger's stride waxed uneven, and oft he stumbled in his going, wherefore Beltane slackened his pace.

"What is it, Roger?"

"Naught but my legs, master. Heed 'em not."

"Thy legs?"

"They be shorter than thine, lord, and love not to wag so fast. An thou could'st abate thy speed a little--a very little, master, they shall thank thee dearly."

"Art so weary, Roger?"

"Master, I was afoot ere sunrise."

"Why truly, Roger. Yet do I, to mine own selfish ends, keep thee from thy slumber thus. Verily a selfish man, I!"

"Not so, master, indeed--"

"So now will we halt, and thou shalt to thy rest."

"Why then, lord, let us to the Hollow--it lieth scarce a mile through the brush yonder, and 'twas there I did appoint for Walkyn to meet with thee again--so shall we sleep secure; moreover I have a feeling--as it were one calling us thither, a wondrous strange feeling, master! Mayhap we shall come by news of Walkyn there--"

"'Tis well bethought, Roger. Come thy ways."

Forthwith turned they from the forest-road, and forcing their way through a leafy tangle, presently came out into a ride, or narrow glade; but they had gone only a very little distance when they espied the red glow of a fire within a thicket hard by, and therewith the sound of voices reached them:

"Three great bags, I tell thee!" cried one voice, high and querulous, "three great, fair and goodly bags full crammed of sweet gold pieces!

All my lord Duke's revenue of Winisfarne and the villages adjacent thereunto! Taxes, see ye, my lord Duke's taxes--and all stolen, reft, and ravished from me, Guido, Steward and Bailiff of the northern Marches, by clapper-claws and raveners lewd and d.a.m.ned! Woe's me for my lord's good money-bags!"

"O, content thee!" spake another voice, sleepy and full-fed, "for, an these monies were the Duke's they were not thine, and if they were not thine thou wert not robbed, and, since thou wert not robbed, wherefore groan and glower ye on the moon? Moreover, thou hast yet certain monies thou didst--collect--from yon blind fellow, the which remindeth me I have not yet my share. So pray thee now disburse, good steward."

Hereupon, ere Beltane could stay him, Roger slipped, soft-treading, into the undergrowth; upon whose vanis.h.i.+ng the air grew very suddenly full of shouts and cries, of scuffling sounds and woeful pleadings; and striding forward, Beltane beheld two men that crouched on bended knees, while Roger, fierce and threatening, stood betwixt, a hairy hand upon the throat of each. Now beholding Beltane, they (these gasping rogues) incontinent beset him with whimpering entreaties, beseeching of him their lives. Ragged knaves they seemed, and in woeful plight--the one a lank fellow and saturnine, with long, down-trending, hungry nose; the other a little man, plump and buxom, whose round eyes blinked woefully in his round and rosy face as he bent 'neath Roger's heavy hand. Yet spake he to Beltane in soft and soothing accents, on this wise:

"Resplendent sir, behold this thy most officious wight who doth my tender throat with hurtful hand encompa.s.s--doubtless to some wise and gracious end an he doth squeeze me thus at thy command. Yet, n.o.ble sir, humbly would I woo of thee the mercy of a little more air, lest this right n.o.ble youth do choke me quite!"

But hereupon the lank fellow cried out, bold and querulous:

"Take ye heed, for whoso dareth lay hand on me, toucheth the person of Duke Ivo's puissant self!"

"Ha--say ye so?" growled Roger, and forthwith squeezed him until he gasped again.

"Loose me, knave!" he panted, "Duke Ivo's Steward, I--Bailiff of the northern Marches with--towns and villages--adjacent thereunto--"

"Unhand them, Roger," said Beltane, "entreat them gently--in especial my lord Duke's Steward and Bailiff of the Marches, if so he be in very truth."

"Yea my lord, in very truth!" cried the Bailiff. "But two days since in ermined robe and chain of office, a notable man, I, courted by many, feared by more, right well be-seen by all, with goodly horse betwixt my knees and l.u.s.ty men-at-arms at my beck and call. To-night, alas and woe! thou see'st me a ragged loon, a sorry wight the meanest rogue would scorn to bow to, and the very children jeer at--and all by reason of a lewd, black-avised clapper-claw that doth flourish him a mighty axe--O, a vile, seditious fellow ripe for the gallows."

"Ah! with an axe say'st thou, sir Bailiff?"

"O most infallibly an axe, messire--a ponderous axe with haft the length of this my leg. A vilely tall, base, and most unseemly dog that hath spoiled me of my lord's sweet money-bags, wherefore I yearn to see him wriggle in a noose. To the which end I journey in these my rags, unto my lord Duke on Barham Broom, with tale of wrong and outrage most abominable."

"And dared they rob thee indeed?" quoth Beltane, "and thou my lord Duke's High Steward and Bailiff of the Marches! Come, sit ye down and tell me of the matter--and Roger, methinks he shall talk the better an thou keep thy fingers farther from his wind-pipe."

So down sat they together round the fire, and, what time the little buxom man viewed Beltane 'twixt stealthy lids from golden spur to open bascinet, the Bailiff fell to his tale, as followeth:

"Know then, good and n.o.ble sir knight, that I sat me, but two days since, in right fair and goodly estate, my lackeys to hand, my men-at-arms at my back (twenty tall fellows). I sat me thus, I say, within the square at Winisfarne, whither, by sound of trumpet, I had summoned me the knavish townsfolk to pay into my hand my lord Duke's rightful dues and taxes, which folk it is my custom to call upon by name and one by one. When lo! of a sudden, and all uncalled, comes me a great, tall fellow, this same black-avised knave, and forthwith seized him one of my lord's great money-bags, and when I would have denied him, set me his axe beneath my very nose. Thereafter took he the bags all three and scattered (O hateful--hateful sight!) my lord's good monies among the base rabblement. And, when my l.u.s.ty fellows sought to apprehend me this rogue, he smote them dolefully and roared in hideous fas.h.i.+on 'Arise-- Pentavalon!' And straightway, at this lewd shout, forth of the crowd leapt many other rogues bedight as gentle knights in n.o.ble mail, cap-a-pie, and fell upon us and smote us dire, and stripped me of my goodly apparel, and drave me forth of the town with stripes and blows and laughter most ungentle. So here sit I, poor Guido, Steward and Bailiff of the Marches, in most vile estate, very full of woe yet, alack, empty of belly."

"But," says Beltane, shaking his head, "within thy pouch, methinks, a blind man's money."

"How--a blind man?" gasped the Bailiff, "a blind man's monies, say'st thou? Nay messire, in very truth."

"Search him, Roger."

Hereupon Roger, having straightway choked him to silence with the one hand full soon had found the money with the other, and thereafter, he loosed the Bailiff that he might get his breath again; the which he no sooner had done than he fell to prayers and humble entreaties:

"Sir knight--right n.o.ble sir, sure thou wilt not take thus from a woeful wight all that he hath."