Tales From Jokai Part 34

"Oh, you'll have your full share of far more than this," said the servants, jocosely. "Our master has prepared a banquet for us all, and the young ladies, the daughters of Sir Fulko, Meryza and Siona, will be at the banquet also. You will sit beside them."

"But what odd names they have!" cried Sir Simon. "Where were they christened to get such names as these?"

"Don't trouble your heads about that. To-morrow you will be able to say which of the twain is the most beautiful."

Sir Michael's heart was immediately interested in imagining which of the two ladies was likely to be the fairest, but his elder brother, Simon, was busy with very different thoughts.

"Is there no chapel here?" he asked. "We should like to go there first to give thanks to G.o.d for delivering us from the midst of so many dangers. It is now many weeks since we had an altar before us, only in the woods, at break of day, with the fowls of the air, have we been able to pray to G.o.d."

The lackeys again laughed at them.

"Leave all that now, good friends, you can find your way about to-morrow; a priest you can see at any time. Now come to the feast; they must have sat down to table long ago."

Sir Simon shook his head a good deal at this. He did not much like a place where they spoke of the altar so lightly; but he did not want to begin a brawl, so he allowed himself to accept the invitation, but he reminded his younger brother that after their long fast it would be as well to partake of the feast sparingly, and not drink too much wine, lest harm might come of so sudden a repast.

At the blast of a trumpet the inner folding doors of the castle were thrown open, and the youths were conducted into the banqueting-room.

The two honest young warriors felt the light of their eyes darkened by the great splendour which now burst like enchantment upon them from all sides. The tables were piled with silver plate and golden beakers; chairs and benches were gorgeously carved and painted; the windows were full of coloured gla.s.s; the chairs, at the heads of the tables, were upholstered in velvet and surmounted by canopies as if they had been placed there for princes. At the back of every chair stood a heyduke in parade garments of cloth of gold, scarlet mantles, and with silver wine pitchers in their hands. Then the folding doors at the opposite end of the banqueting-room were thrown open, and through them came the guests of the lord of the castle, each richly attired gentleman conducting a beautiful damsel by the right hand. The ladies swept the floor with their heavy silk dresses, and diamonds and carbuncles sparkled on their foreheads and in their bosoms. They took their places in couples around the long, loaded tables, a man and a woman side by side. Finally, three fanfaronades announced the arrival of the master of the castle, Sir Fulko, an obese figure almost collapsing beneath the weight of the precious stones and gems he wore. He led a lady by each hand, his daughters Meryza and Siona.

The former, whom he led by the right hand, was a marvellously beautiful damsel; a tall, stately, dignified figure, who lifted her head as haughtily as one who knew that every one present was indeed her very humble servant.

The second damsel, whom Fulko led by the left hand, was small and hump-backed: she never raised her eyes nor looked around her, like one who knew right well that every one despised her. It was easy enough to say which of the twain was the more beautiful.

At this spectacle Sir Michael fancied he was dreaming, so blinded were his eyes by the sheen of the precious stones, that he knew not whether he was in earth or heaven. But Sir Simon, when he beheld all the splendour before him, bethought him that at this very time King Bela[23]

was drinking out of his helmet water stained with bloods from the banks of flowing streams.

[Footnote 23: After losing the Battle of the Sajo, where 65,000 Magyars vainly endeavoured to arrest the march of 500,000 Mongols, Bela fled for a time into Austria.]

"Knights and dames to your places!" cried Sir Fulko. "Here beside me will sit Sir Simon and Sir Michael; the latest guest always has the first place at _my_ table. Sit down beside my daughters. This is my daughter Meryza, and that my daughter Siona."

Michael so contrived that the fair Meryza sat next to him, but Sir Simon took his place next to the meek-eyed Siona, but first of all he said grace to himself in a low voice, at which the other guests laughed greatly; the good knight was making quite a scandal, they said.

Nevertheless, a voice beside him whispered softly: "Amen! Amen!" He looked in that direction and saw the humpbacked Siona, and at that moment the deformed damsel seemed lovelier to him than the stately Meryza.

The guests drank right gallantly; they required no very urgent invitation thereto, and when they had all got pretty full skins, they requested the new-comers to tell them the story of all that had befallen them on their way thither.

Sir Michael, not possessing the gift of eloquence himself, beckoned to his elder brother to speak. Simon, therefore, got on his legs, and imagining he had to do with honest patriots whose hearts could be touched, he began to tell them of the mournful events he had seen. As his narrative proceeded he was carried away more and more by his emotions; the terrible scenes rising again before his eyes gave inspiration to his lips, so that at last he spoke with such feeling that the tears coursed down his own cheeks.

But by the time he had dried his tears and looked round him again, he perceived that the army of guests was neither sighing nor crying at his melancholy oration; on the contrary, they were only listening by way of diversion, like triflers listening to a singer of songs.

So scandalized was he at the sight that he broke off abruptly.

What annoyed him most of all were the eyes of the stately Meryza; they regarded him so smilingly.

When he stopped speaking the stately damsel addressed him--

"Tell us some more of those pretty tales!" said she.

But a whimpering voice beside him--it was the pale Siona's--implored him to cease for the love of G.o.d, for it made her heart bleed to hear such horrible things.

And Sir Simon listened to the words of Siona; he sighed deeply and sat down. He was sorry that he had reproached his host and the army of guests with heartlessness; he thought that it was only good manners on their part, and that he had forgotten himself because he was so tired.

But now arose Sir Saksin, a gigantic figure of a man, close beside Simon, and asked him why he did not drink like the rest of them and why he had left off speaking? Why had he insulted the company by this sudden silence? Let him come out on the green, then, if he would!

Sir Simon perceived that this would mean bloodshed, so he shoved away his chair from beneath him and held himself ready for everything. This was no unusual thing in the days when there had been much drinking among many guests and the exhibition of strength was not considered a disgrace, and therefore, before a banquet, all the guests were wont to unload themselves of all their cutting and thrusting weapons, lest they might injure one another and be sorry of it when they were sober again.

Perceiving this, Sir Michael would also have leaped from his seat, but the wine he had taken had tied him to it, and besides, those about him said that in a quarrel between two men, it did not become a third person to interfere.

But Siona whispered to Simon.

"Beware of letting yourself be hugged, for Saksin has spiked armour beneath his dolman, and if he clip you tight it will mangle you."

And this secret information was of great use to Simon, for when he was wrestling with the big knight in the midst of the room, he never let himself be clipt round the body, but seized him firmly by both arms, and after thus giving his huge body a good shaking, tripped him up and flung him to the ground so that his head hit the floor violently.

At this, Saksin leaped furiously to his feet, and clutching a chair, rushed upon Sir Simon; but the latter broke the impact of the chair with one hand, while with the other he gave Sir Saksin such a buffet that he saw and heard nothing more, for the blood burst suddenly from his nose, mouth, and ears. So they carried him off wrapped up in a rug.

At this the other guests laughed heartily, praised Sir Simon for his strength and skill, and pressed his hand one after another. But he noticed at the same time that they all tried to find out whether they could hurt his hand by pressing it as hard as they could. "Let them do as they like," he thought; "but I wonder what is going to happen next."

Finally, the master of the house tapped him on the shoulder. He told him too that he was a fine fellow for overthrowing so doughty a warrior with whom none hitherto had ventured to cope, and inasmuch as he had resolved that whoever was able to vanquish Sir Saksin was to be allowed to choose one of his daughters for his consort, let him make his choice straightway.

Sir Simon fancied they were making sport with him by promising him such a reward, which he had done nought to earn. But when he saw them summon the chaplain, he perceived they were in real earnest. And, besides, he was invited once more to make his choice.

But Sir Michael, his brother, was greatly amazed at all this. He was also grievously annoyed that _he_ had not contended with Saksin, for he was no whit less doughty than his brother Simon. Alas! Simon would of course choose Meryza, for if he had any eyes at all he could not fail to see at a glance which was the loveliest.

But Simon turned towards the pale Siona and said it was she who pleased him best.

Sir Fulko was greatly surprised. _He_ did not like the choice at all. He scratched his head. He bit his lips. But the only objection he could make was that Meryza was the eldest.

"Well, if you don't want her married later than her younger sister, give her to wife to my younger brother. He is just as good a warrior as I am, and if he had fought with Saksin he would have flung him to the ground not twice but thrice."

Michael himself swore that he would indeed have done all that for Meryza, and, if necessary, he would try conclusions with every gentleman present one after the other; whereat they all laughed heartily.

Sir Fulko thereupon took him at his word, and said that, as he was so enamoured of his daughter, he might take her for his consort by all means.

Sir Michael was beside himself for joy. He could scarce stand upon his legs for joy, and challenged the whole world to wrestle with him.

But the soul of Sir Simon was steadied and cooled by the reflection: How was it that such a rich lord disposed so readily of his lady-daughters, and gave them to wife to the first comers without wooing or sueing?

Nevertheless, it was a fact, whether he believed himself to be awake or imagined himself to be asleep, it had happened all the same. Sir Fulko joined their hands together; Meryza drew from her finger a diamond ring, which she placed on the finger of Sir Michael; while Siona gave a thin circlet to Sir Simon as a token of their espousals, the knights giving them in exchange from their fingers old ancestral rings of great price; whereupon the whole army of guests, suddenly converted into a bridal party, proceeded forthwith to the castle chapel, where a priestly shape united the two couples in holy matrimony according to the ritual of the Catholic Faith, decently and in order to the accompaniment of hymns and organ.

Sir Michael and the fair Meryza withdrew to their appointed bridal-chamber, but Sir Simon said to his bride: "I will remain here a little while before the altar to thank G.o.d for His wondrous benefits, inasmuch as He has delivered me out of jeopardy and guided my footsteps into the path of liberty. It was but yesterday the wolves were lying in wait for me, and now to-day I am blessed with a good consort like you.

Go back to your room, and I will shortly come after you."

For about an hour Sir Simon remained there beside the altar, which was embellished with the statues of the Saints; he felt inclined to bless these holy images one after the other, but then he thought that perhaps Siona might be growing impatient at his long delay.

"Forgive me, Siona, for remaining so long in the chapel," said he, on his return; "but I had so many thanks to render to G.o.d this day."

"Indeed, you have many reasons to thank G.o.d," said Siona; "for marvellously hath He delivered you from death this day. You may thank G.o.d that you sat beside me instead of by Meryza, for Saksin would a.s.suredly have fastened a quarrel upon you in any case; and had you not taken heed and avoided his grip, you would have been a dead man now. You may also thank G.o.d that you drank not out of your own beaker, but out of mine, in which there was water; for the rim of your beaker was smeared with stupefying poison, and if your lips had touched it, you would have been drugged and died before dawn. But you may thank G.o.d a hundred times over that you did not stretch out your hand after Meryza when they allowed you to choose between us, as hundreds have done before you, who are all dead; for you most certainly would have followed them."