The Geste of Duke Jocelyn Part 15

GILL: I suppose this place where creatures fell In torments dwell is meant for--

MYSELF: Well, I think, my Gill, the place you've guessed, So let me get on with our Geste.

... they groaned and sighed lamentably--

My daughter GILLIAN interjecteth:

GILL: Father--now don't get in a huff-- But don't you think they've groaned enough?

MYSELF: My Gillian--no! Leave well alone; This is the place for them to groan.

Lamentably they did together moan, And uttered each full many a hollow groan.

My daughter GILLIAN interposeth:

GILL: But, father, groans are so distressing, And groans in verse are most depressing--

MYSELF: Then peace, child, and in common prose I'll let the poor rogues vent their woes:

... they groaned and they sighed lamentably--

My daughter GILLIAN interrupteth:

GILL: What, father, are they groaning still?

MYSELF: Of course they are, and so they will, And so shall I; so, girl, take heed, And cease their groaning to impede.

Is it agreed?

GILL: Oh, yes, indeed!

MYSELF: Then with our Geste I will proceed.

... they groaned and sighed lamentably.

"Alack!" cried Gurth, "I had not greatly minded till now, but this vile-tongued Fool hath stirred Fear to wakefulness within me. Here's me, scarce thirty turned, hale and hearty, yet must die woefully and with a maid as do love me grievously!"

"And me!" groaned Rick. "No more than twenty and five, I--a very lad--and with two maids as do languish for me fain and fond!"

"Ha, and what o' me?" mourned dismal, redheaded Will. "A l.u.s.ty, proper fellow I be and wi' maids a score as do sigh continual. And me to die--O woe! And I a tanner!"

"Content ye, brothers!" said Jocelyn. "Look now, here's Gurth hath lived but thirty years, and now must die--good: so shall he die weighted with less of sin than had he lived thirty more. Be ye comforted in this, distressful rogues, the shorter our life the less we sin, the which is a fair, good thing. As for these shackles, though our bodies be 'prisoned our souls go free, thus, while we languish here, our souls astride a sunbeam may mount aloft, 'bove all pains and tribulations soever. Thus if we must dance together in noose, our souls, I say, escaping these fleshy bonds, shall wing away to freedom everlasting. Bethink ye of this, grievous knaves, and take heart. Regarding the which same truths I will, for thy greater comforting, incontinent make ye a song--hearken!

"Let Folly sing a song to cheer All poor rogues that languish here, Doomed in dismal dungeon drear, Doomed in dungeon dim.

"Though flesh full soon beneath the sod Doth perish and decay, Though cherished body is but clod, Yet in his soul man is a G.o.d, To do and live alway.

So hence with gloom and banish fear, Come Mirth and Jollity, Since, though we pine in dungeon drear, Though these, our bodies, languish here, We in our minds go free."

Thus cheerily sang Jocelyn until, chancing to see how the youth leaned forward great-eyed, watching as he sung, he broke off to question him blithely:

"How now, good youth, hast a leaning to Folly e'en though Folly go fettered, and thyself in dungeon?"

"Fool," answered the youth, soft-voiced, "me-thinks 't is strange Folly can sing thus in chains! Hast thou no fear of death?"

"Why truly I love it no more than my fellow-fools. But I, being fool uncommon, am wise enough to know that Death, howsoe'er he come, may come but once--and there's a comfortable thought!"

So saying, Jocelyn seated himself beside the youth and watched him keen-eyed.

"And thou canst sing of Freedom, Fool, to the jangle of thy fetters?"

"Truly, youth, 't is but my baser part lieth shackled, thus while body pineth here, soul walketh i' the kindly sun--aye, e'en now as I do gaze on thee, I, in my thought, do stand in a fair garden--beside a lily-pool, where she I love cometh shy-footed to meet me, tall and gracious and sweet, as her flowers. A dream, belike, yet in this dream she looketh on me with eyes of love and love is on her lips and in her heart--so is my dream very precious."

At this, the youth shrank beneath his cloak while in an adjacent corner the three rolled dice with Robin and quarrelled hoa.r.s.e and loud.

"Youth," said Jocelyn, "I pray thee, tell me thy name."

Without lifting head the youth answered:

"Hugo!"

"Look up, Hugo!" But Hugo bowed his head the lower.

"Hast wondrous hair, Hugo--red gold 'neath thy hood!"

Here came a slim, white hand to order the rebellious tress but, finding none, trembled and hid itself. Then very suddenly Jocelyn leaned near and caught this hand, clasping it fast yet with fingers very gentle, and spake quick and eager:

"Hugo--alas, Hugo! What bringeth thee in this evil place? Art in danger?

Speak, speak!"

"Nay, here is no harm for me, Joconde. And I am hither come for sake of a poor Fool that is braver than the bravest--one did jeopardise his foolish life for sake of a maid, wherefore I, Hugo, do give him life. Take now this wallet, within is good store of gold and better--a potent charm to close all watchful eyes. Hist, Joconde, and mark me well! Ranulph o' the Axe is a mighty drinker--to-night, drawn by fame of thy wit, he cometh with his fellows. This money shall buy them wine, in the wine cast this powder so shall they sleep and thou go free."

"Aye!" said Jocelyn, "and then?"

"There will meet thee a dwarf shall free thee of thy fetters, and by secret ways set thee without the city--then, tarry not, but flee for thy life--"

"Now by the Holy Rood!" quoth Jocelyn softly, "never in all this world was there prisoner so happy as this poor Fool! But, Hugo, an I win free by reason of a brave and n.o.ble lady, so long as she bide in Ca.n.a.lise, so long must I--"

My daughter GILLIAN interposeth:

GILL: O, father, now I understand-- Of course, this Hugo is Yolande!

MYSELF: Exactly, miss, the fact is clear; But how on earth did she get here?

I don't want her here--

GILL: Why not?

MYSELF: Because, being here, she spoils my plot, Which would drive any author frantic--

GILL: I think it's fine, and most romantic.