Beltane the Smith Part 93

"Greeting to thee, my lord Duke of Mortain, and to thy lovely lady wife," spake a cheery voice, and the speaker, lifting his vizor, behold! it was Sir Benedict. "I go in mine own armour to-day, Beltane, that haply thy n.o.ble father shall know me in the press. Ha, see where he ordereth his line, 'twas ever so his custom, I mind me--in four columns with archers betwixt. Mark me now lad, I have brought thee here a helm graced with these foolish feathers as is the new fashion--white feathers, see you--that my lady's sweet eyes may follow thee in the affray."

"For that, dear Benedict," cried she, "for that shalt kiss me, so off with thy great helm!" Forthwith Sir Benedict did off his casque, and stooping, kissed her full-lipped, and meeting Beltane's eye, flushed and laughed and was solemn all in a moment.

"Ah, Beltane, dear lad," quoth he, "I envy thee and grieve for thee! To possess such a maid to wife--and to leave her--so soon! May G.o.d bring thee safe again to her white arms. Ah, youth is very sweet, lad, and love--true love is youth's fair paradise and--body o' me, there sound our tuckets! See where Ivo formeth his main battle--and yonder he posteth a goodly company to shut us up within the city. So must we wait a while until the battle joins--thy n.o.ble father is wondrous wise in war--O verily he hath seen, behold how he altereth his array! O wise Beltane!"

Now Duke Ivo threw out a screen of archers and hors.e.m.e.n to hara.s.s the powers of Mortain what time he formed his battle in three great companies, a deep and formidable array of knights and men-at-arms whose tall lances rose, a very forest, with pennons and banderols a-flutter in the gentle wind of morning. Far on the left showed the banner of his marshal Sir Bors; above his right battle flew the Raven banner of Sir Pertolepe the Red, and above his main battle rose his own standard-- a black lion on a red field. So mustered he his powers of Pentavalon, gay with stir of pennons and rich trappings; the sun flashed back from ponderous casques and bascinets innumerable and flamed on blazoned shields. And beholding their might and confident bearing, Beltane clenched nervous hands and his mouth grew hard and grim, so turned he from this formidable host to where, just beyond the woods, his father's banner flew beside the leopards of Mortain. Conspicuous upon his white charger he beheld Duke Beltane, a proud and warlike figure, who sat his stamping war-horse deep in converse with Sir Jocelyn, while behind were the dense ranks of Mortain. Suddenly, Sir Jocelyn wheeled his charger and galloped along Mortain's front, his rich armour glittering, until he halted at the head of that knightly company posted upon the left.

Meantime, Black Ivo's archers advancing, fell into arrow formation and began to ply the Mortain ranks with clouds of shafts and bolts 'neath which divers men and horses fell--what time Black Ivo's ma.s.sed columns moved slowly forward to the attack--yet Duke Beltane, sitting among his knights, stirred not, and the army of Mortain abode very silent and still. But of a sudden Duke Beltane wheeled his horse, his sword flashed on high, whereat trumpets brayed and on the instant Sir Jocelyn wheeled off to the left, he and all his company, and gathering speed began to skirt Duke Ivo's advanced pikemen and archers, and so rode down upon those men of Pentavalon who were drawn up against Belsaye.

Hereupon Black Ivo would have launched a counter-charge to check Sir Jocelyn's attack, but his advanced lines of cross-bowmen and archers hampered him. Once again Duke Beltane's sword flashed up, the first line of Mortain's great array leapt forward and with levelled lances thundered down upon Black Ivo's ranks, scattering and trampling down his archers; but as they checked before the serried pikes behind, forth galloped Duke Beltane's second line and after this a third-- o'erwhelming Ivo's pikemen by their numbers, and bursting over and through their torn ranks, reformed, and, spurring hard, met Ivo's rank with crashing shock in full career. And, behind this raging battle, Duke Beltane rode at the head of his reserves, keen-eyed and watchful, what time Sir Jocelyn was hotly engaged upon the left, nigh unto the town itself.

"Ah, Beltane!" sighed the d.u.c.h.ess, shivering and covering her face-- "'tis horrible, horrible--see how they fall!"

"Nay, my brave Fidelis, heed rather how valiant Sir Jocelyn and his knights drive in their advanced lines--ha! Benedict, see how he breaks their array--an he can but turn their flank--"

"Nay, Beltane--yonder cometh the Raven banner where Pertolepe spurreth in support--"

"Aye, but yonder doth my father launch yet another charge--ha!

Benedict, let us out and aid them--the way lieth open beyond the drawbridge an we can but turn Ivo's flank!" quoth Beltane looking ever upon the battle, "O, methinks the time is now, Benedict!"

With Helen's soft hand a-tremble in his, Beltane hasted down from the tower and Sir Benedict followed, until they were come to the square where, amid the joyful acclaim of the populace, their small and hardy following were drawn up; and, as they came, from townsfolk and soldiery a shout arose:

"Beltane--the Duke--the Duke!"

"My lord Duke of Mortain," quoth Sir Benedict, "I and thy company do wait thee to lead us."

But Beltane smiled and shook his head.

"Not so, my lord of Bourne, thou art so cunning in war and hast led us so valiantly and well--shalt lead us to this battle, the which I pray G.o.d shall be our last! As for me, this day will I march with the foresters--so mount, my lord."

Hereupon, from foresters, from knights and men-at-arms another shout arose what time Sir Benedict, having knelt to kiss the d.u.c.h.ess Helen's white hand, found it woefully a-tremble.

"Alas, my lady Helen," said he, "methinks thine is the harder part this day. G.o.d strengthen thy wifely heart, for G.o.d, methinks, shall yet bring him to thine embrace!" So saying, Sir Benedict mounted and rode to the head of his lances, where flew his banner. "Unbar the gates!" he cried. And presently the great gates of Belsaye town swung wide, the portcullis clanked up, the drawbridge fell, and thus afar off they beheld where, 'mid swirling dust-cloud the battle raged fierce and fell.

And behold a sorry wight who hobbled toward them on a crutch, so begirt and bandaged that little was to see of him but bright eyes.

"O Sir Hacon!" cried the d.u.c.h.ess, "did I not bid thee to thy bed?"

"Why truly, dear my lady, but since I may not go forth myself, fain would I see my good comrades ride into the battle--faith, methinks I might yet couch a lance but for fear of this thy n.o.ble lady, my lord Beltane--aye me, this shall be a dismal day for me, methinks!"

"Nay, then I will keep thee company, good Sir Hacon!" smiled the d.u.c.h.ess a little tremulously, "shalt watch with me from the bartizan and tell me how the day goeth with us."

And now Sir Benedict lifted aloft his lance, the trumpet sounded, and with ring and tramp he with his six hundred knights and men-at-arms rode forth of the market-square, clattering through the narrow street, thundering over the drawbridge, and, forming in the open, spurred away into the battle.

Then Beltane sighed, and kneeling, kissed his lady's white hands:

"Beloved," spake he low-voiced, "e'en now must I go from thee, but howsoever fortune tend--thine am I through life--aye, and beyond."

"Beltane," she whispered 'twixt quivering lips, "O loved Beltane, take heed to thy dear body, cover thee well with thy shield since thy hurts are my hurts henceforth and with thee thou dost bear my heart--O risk not my heart to death without good cause!" So she bent and kissed him on the brow: but when he would have risen, stayed him. "Wait, my lord!"

she whispered and turning, beckoned to one behind her, and lo! Genevra came forward bearing a blue banner.

"My lord," said the d.u.c.h.ess, "behold here thy banner that we have wrought for thee, Genevra and I."

So saying, she took the banner and gave it into Beltane's mailed hand.

But as he arose, and while pale-cheeked Genevra, hands clasped upon the green scarf at her bosom, looked wet-eyed where the archers stood ranked, forth stepped Giles and spake quick and eager.

"Lord!" said he, "to-day methinks will be more hard smiting than chance for good archery, wherefore I do pray let me bear thy standard in the fight--ne'er shall foeman touch it whiles that I do live--lord, I pray thee!"

"Be it so, Giles!" So Giles took the banner whiles Beltane fitted on his great, plumed helm; thereafter comes Roger with his shield and Ulf leading his charger whereon he mounted forthwith, and wheeling, put himself at the head of his pikemen and archers, with Roger and Ulf mounted on either flank and Giles bestriding another horse behind.

Yet now needs must he turn to look his last upon the d.u.c.h.ess standing forlorn, and beholding the tender pa.s.sion of her tearless eyes he yearned mightily to kiss them, and sighed full deep, then, giving the word, rode out and away, the blue standard a-dance upon the breeze; but his heart sank to hear the clash and clang of gate and portcullis, shutting away from him her that was more to him than life itself.

Now when they had gone some way needs must he look back at Belsaye, its battered walls, its mighty towers; and high upon the bartizan he beheld two figures, the one be-swathed in many bandages, and one he knew who prayed for him, even then; and all at once wall and towers and distant figures swam in a mist of tears wherefore he closed his bascinet, yet not before Giles had seen--Giles, whose merry face was grim now and hard-set, and from whose bright bascinet a green veil floated.

"Lord," said he, blinking bright eyes, "we have fought well ere now, but to-day methinks we shall fight as ne'er we fought in all our days."

"Aye," nodded Beltane, "verily, Giles, methinks we shall!"

Thus saying, he turned and looked upon the rolling battle-dust and settling his feet within the stirrups, clenched iron fingers upon his long sword.

CHAPTER LXIX

HOW AT LAST THEY CAME TO PENTAVALON CITY

All day long the din and thunder of battle had roared upon the plain; all day the d.u.c.h.ess Helen with Sir Hacon at her side had watched the eddying dust-clouds rolling now this way, now that, straining anxious eyes to catch the gleam of a white plume or the flutter of the blue banner amid that dark confusion. And oft she heard Sir Hacon mutter oaths half-stifled, and oft Sir Hacon had heard s.n.a.t.c.hes of her breathless prayers as the tide of battle swung to and fro, a desperate fray whence distant shouts and cries mingled in awful din. But now, as the sun grew low, the close-locked fray began to roll southwards fast and ever faster, a mighty storm of eddying dust wherein armour gleamed and steel glimmered back and forth, as Duke Ivo and his proud array fell back and back on their last stronghold of Pentavalon City.

Whereupon Sir Hacon, upon the bartizan, cursed no more, but forgetful of his many wounds, waxed jubilant instead.

"Now, by Holy Rood!" he cried, "see, lady--they break--they break!

'Twas that last flanking onset! None but Beltane the Strong could have marshalled that last charge--drawing on Black Ivo to attempt his centre, see you, and crushing in his flanks--so needs must their main battle fall back or meet attack on two sides! Oho, a wondrous crafty leader is Duke Beltane the Strong! See--ha, see now how fast he driveth them--and southward--southward on Pentavalon town!"

"So do I thank G.o.d, but see how many--O how many do lie fallen by the way!"

"Why, in battle, most gentle lady, in battle men must needs fall or wherefore should battles be? Much have I seen of wars, lady, but ne'er saw eyes sterner fray than this--"

"And I pray G.o.d," spake the d.u.c.h.ess, shivering, "these eyes may ne'er look upon another! O 'tis hateful sight--see--look yonder!" and she pointed where from the awful battle-wrack reeled men faint with wounds while others dragged themselves painfully across the trampled ground.

"Why, 'twas a b.l.o.o.d.y business!" quoth the knight, shaking his bandaged head.

"Sir Hacon," said the d.u.c.h.ess, frowning and pale, "I pray you summon me the Reeve, yonder." And when the Reeve was come, she spake him very soft and sweet:

"Messire, I pray you let us out and aid the poor, stricken souls yonder."

"But lady, the battle is not yet won--to open our gates were unwise, methinks."

"Good Reeve, one died but lately whom all men loved, but dying, Friar Martin spake these words--'I see Belsaye rich and happy, her gates ever open to the woeful and distressed.' Come, ope the gates and let us out to cherish these afflicted."

Thus presently forth from Belsaye rode the d.u.c.h.ess Helen, with Sir Hacon beside her and many of the townsfolk, hasting pale-cheeked and trembling to minister unto the hurt and dying, and many there were that day who sighed out their lives in blessings on her head.