Beltane the Smith Part 51

"Alas!" sighed the young knight; and again "alas!" and therewith a great sob brake from him.

Of a sudden, from the gloom beside the way rose a woman's scream, and thereafter a great and fierce roar; and presently came Walkyn with his torch and divers of his men, dragging a woman in their midst, and lo!

it was the witch of Hangstone Waste.

Now she, beholding Beltane's face beneath his lifted vizor, cried out for very joy:

"Now heaven bless thee, Duke Beltane! Ah, my lord--hear me!"

"What would ye? What seek ye of such as I?"

But hereupon Black Roger spurred beside Beltane, his eyes wide and fearful in the shadow of his helm, his strong, mailed hand a-tremble on Beltane's arm.

"Beware, my lord, beware!" he cried, "'tis nigh the midnight hour and she a noted witch--heed her not lest she blight thy fair body, lest she--"

"Peace, Roger! Now speak, woman--what would ye?"

"A life, my lord!"

"Ah, the blessed saints forfend--I feared so!" gasped Roger.

But now the witch turned and looked on Roger, and he incontinent crossed himself and fell thenceforth to mumbling prayers beneath his breath.

"Lord Duke, for that I am but a woman poor and helpless, now would I beseech thine aid for--"

"Nay, tell me first, whence come ye?"

"From Barham Broom, messire. Ah! spare aid for one that lieth in peril of death--the maid Mellent--they do proclaim her witch--they will burn her--"

"O--a woman!" quoth Beltane, wrinkling his brows; and beholding Sir Fidelis watching him, straightway frowned the blacker.

"Nay, messire, hear me!" cried the witch, "ah, turn not away! This maid, indeed, is not of common blood--a lady is she of birth and wide demesnes--"

"Why then," said Beltane, heedful ever of the young knight's burning glance, "why then is she more apt for treachery and evil."

"Not so, my lord; weak is she and beset by cruel enemies. I found her, a stranger, wandering lonely in the green, and she, being sick of heart and brain, spake wild words of a great wrong, vainly done and suffered, and of an abiding remorse. And when I had nursed her into health she told me a wondrous tale. So, lord Beltane, do I know that in her hands thy happiness doth lie."

"Not so!" sighed Beltane. "Happiness and I are strangers henceforth--"

But here once again came a hoa.r.s.e and angry roar with the sound of desperate struggling amid the leaves hard by, whence came Jenkyn and Orson with divers others, dragging a strange, hairy, dwarf-like creature, great and s.h.a.ggy of head and with the arms and shoulders of a giant; smirched was he in blood from a great wound above the brow and his rich habit was mired and torn. Now looking upon this monstrous creature that writhed and struggled mightily with his captors, groaning and roaring betimes, Beltane felt his flesh a-creep with swift and pregnant memory, and straightway beset the witch with fierce question:

"Woman, what thing is this?"

"My lord, 'tis naught but poor Ulf, a natural, messire, very strong and faithful, that hath fought mightily and is nigh slain in our defence-- see how he bleeds! Let them not harm him, my lord!"

"Yet have I seen him ere this, methinks."

"But for the maid Mellent--thou wilt not let her burn--and for thy deeds?"

"Mine, forsooth! How mean you?"

"'Twas yester-eve we were beset hereabouts by a lewd company, and brought unto their lord, Sir Grilles of Brandonmere--a man beyond all other men base and vile--who, beholding her so young and fair would have forced her to his will."

"Ha!--methinks Sir Gilles doth live too long!"

"So to save her from his violence, I discovered to him her name and high estate, whereupon at first he would fain have her wed with him.

But, angered by her scorn, he bore her with him to Duke Ivo at Barham Broom, and me also. And there I heard her denounced as witch, by whose spells thou, lord Beltane, wert freed of thy duress and Garthlaxton utterly destroyed. Thus, to-morrow she must burn, unless one can be found to champion her cause and prove her innocent by trial of combat.

So, when they had let me go I came seeking thee, my lord, since 'tis said thou art a very strong man and swift to aid the defenceless." Now glancing aside upon Sir Fidelis, Beltane beheld him leaning forward with his lips apart and slender hands tight-clasped; whereupon he frowned and shook his head.

"A woman!" quoth he, "nay, I had rather fight in a dog's cause."

"Forsooth!" cried Roger, "for rogue is he and fool that would champion a vile witch."

"Why, then, let us on, lord," growled Walkyn. "Why tarry we here?"

But now, as the witch sank upon the road with pleading hands uplifted, Sir Fidelis rode beside her and, stooping, caught her outstretched hands; quoth he:

"Of what avail to plead with such as these? So will I adventure me on behalf of this poor maid."

"Enough!" cried Beltane. "Walkyn, march ye one and all for Hundleby Fen--wait me there and let your watch be strict. But, an I come not within two days from now, then hie you each and every to reinforce Eric and Giles in Belsaye. As for Roger, he rideth with me to Barham Broom."

"Ha, lord!--wilt fight, then, in the witch's cause?" cried Walkyn.

"Aye, forsooth, though--forsooth I had rather fight in a dog's cause, for a dog, see you, is a faithful beast."

"To Barham Broom?" quoth Roger, staring. "Thou and I, master, to Black Ivo--alone?" And speaking, he loosened sword in scabbard.

"My lord Beltane," cried Sir Fidelis, beholding him with shining eyes, "an thou wilt do this n.o.ble thing, suffer me beside thee!"

"Not so, messire," answered Beltane, shaking his head, "art over young and tender, methinks--go, get thee back to her that sent thee--keep thou thy fond and foolish dream, and may thy gentle heart go unbroken.

Come, Roger!"

So saying, Beltane wheeled about and rode away with Roger at his heels.

CHAPTER x.x.xIX

HOW BELTANE FOUGHT FOR ONE MELLENT THAT WAS A WITCH.

Barham Broom was gay with the stir of flags and streamers, where, above broidered pavilion and silken tent, pennons and banderoles, penoncels and gonfalons fluttered and flew, beyond which long lines of smaller tents stretched away north and south, east and west, and made up the camp of my lord Duke Ivo.

Beyond the confines of this great and goodly camp the lists had been formed, and here from earliest dawn a great concourse had been gathering; villein and va.s.sal, serf and freedman from town and village: n.o.ble lords and ladies fair from castle hall and perfumed bower, all were here, for to-day a witch was to die--to-day, from her tortured flesh the flame was to drive forth and exorcize, once and for all, the demon who possessed her, by whose vile aid she wrought her charms and spells. So country wenches pushed and strove amid the throng, and dainty ladies leaned from canopied galleries to shudder with dread or trill soft laughter; but each and every stared at one who stood alone, 'twixt armed guards, so young and fair and pale within her bonds, oft turning piteous face to heaven or looking with quailing eye where stake and chain and f.a.ggot menaced her with awful doom. And ever the kindly sun rose high and higher, and ever the staring concourse grew.

Now, of a sudden the clarions rang out a point of war, and all voices were hushed, as, forth into the lists, upon his richly-caparisoned charger, my lord Duke Ivo rode, followed by his chiefest lords and barons; and as he rode, he smiled to himself full oft as one that meditates a hidden jest. Being come where the witch stood, her disordered garments rent by vicious handling, striving to veil her beauty in her long, dark hair, my lord Duke reined in his pawing steed to sit a while and look down at her 'neath sleepy lids; and, ever as he looked, his arching nostrils fluttered above curling lip, and ever he fingered his long, blue-shaven chin.

"Alack!" cried he at last, "'tis a comely wench, and full young, methinks, to die so soon! But witchcraft is a deadly sin, abhorred by man and hateful unto G.o.d--"