The Geste of Duke Jocelyn Part 18

Chant on, brave Will."

The Tanner, nothing loth, wiped his mouth, clenched his fists and standing square and rigid, continued:

"How gaily I a-tanning went, No tanner blithe as I, No tanner e'er so innocent, Though here in chains I lie.

Ho derry down, Hey derry down, In grievous chains I lie.

"No more, alack, poor Will will tan, Since Will will, all unwilling, Though tanner he and proper man, A gloomy grave be filling.

Hey derry down, Ho derry down, A gloomy grave be filling."

"Now out upon thee, Tanner!" sighed Ranulph. "Here's sad song, a song o'

graves, and therefore most unlovely, a song I--Saints and Angels!" he gasped:

And pointed where Sir Pertinax did stand, The Heart of Crystal shining in his hand.

"The Heart-in-Heart! The Crystal Heart!" cried he, And crying thus, sank down on bended knee, While jailers all and scurvy knaves, pell-mell, Betook them to their marrow-bones as well; Whereat Sir Pertinax oped wond'ring eyes, And questioned him 'twixt anger and surprise.

Then answered Ranulph, "Sir, though chained ye go, Yet to thee we do all obedience owe By reason of that sacred amulet, That crystal heart in heart of crystal set:

'For he that holdeth Crystal Heart Holdeth all and every part, And by night or eke by day The Heart-in-Heart all must obey!"'

"Obey?" quoth Pertinax. "Ha! Let us see If in thy vaunt there aught of virtue be: For by this Heart of Crystal that I bear, I charge ye loose the chains the Fool doth wear, Then off with these accursed gyves of mine, Or--"

Ranulph to the warders gave a sign, And they to work did go with such good speed, That Joc'lyn soon with Pertinax stood freed, "Now by my halidome!" quoth Pertinax, "This talisman methinks no magic lacks, So knaves, I bid ye--by this magic Heart, Draw bolt and bar that hence we may depart--"

But now the scurvy knaves made dismal cry.

"Good sir!" they wailed, "Ah, leave us not to die!"

"Aye, by Heav'n's light!" fierce quoth Sir Pertinax, "Ye're better dead by gibbet or by axe, Since naught but scurvy, coward rogues are ye, And so be hanged--be hanged to ye, all three!"

"Knight!" Joc'lyn sighed, "'neath Heaven's light somewhere Doth live a dark-eyed maid with black-curled hair-- Her voice is soft and full of sweet allure, And thou, perchance, one day may humbly woo her; So these poor rogues now woo their lives of thee, Show mercy then and mercy find of she."

At this Sir Pertinax rubbed chin and frowned, Red grew his cheek, his fierce eyes sought the ground, Then, even as he thus pinched chin and scowled, "Loose, then, the dismal knaves!" at last he growled.

But now grim Ranulph tangled beard tore And wrung his hands and sighed and groaned and swore With loud complaints and woeful lamentations, With muttered oaths and murmured objurgations, With curses dire and impious imprecations.

"Beshrew me, masters all!" quoth he. "Now here's ill prank to play a poor hangman, may I ne'er quaff good liquor more, let me languish o' the quartern ague and die o' the doleful dumps if I ever saw the like o' this!

For look 'ee now, if I set these three rogues free, how may I hang 'em as hang 'em I must, since I by hanging live to hang again, and if I don't hang 'em whom shall I hang since hang I must, I being hangman? Bethink ye o' this, sirs, and show a little pity to a poor hangman."

"Why then, mark ye this, hangman," said Jocelyn, "since on hanging doth thy hangman's reputation hang, then hang thou must; therefore, an ye lack rogue to hang, go hang thyself, so, hanging, shall thy hanging be done with and thou having lived a hangman, hangman die, thus, hangman hanging hangman, hangman hanging shall be hangman still, and being still, thus hanging, shall hang no more."

"Aye, verily!" quoth Sir Pertinax, "there it is in a nutsh.e.l.l--hangman, be hanged to thee! So off with their fetters, Master Gallows, by Crystal Heart I charge thee!"

Hereupon the scurvy knaves were freed, to their great joy, and following the bold knight, made haste to quit their gloomy dungeon. Reaching the guardroom above, Sir Pertinax called l.u.s.tily for sword and bascinet, and thereafter chose divers likely weapons for his companions who, with axe and pike and guisarme on shoulder, followed him out into the free air.

Now it was night and very dark, but Gurth, who was a man of the town, brought them by dim and lonely alleys and crooked ways until at last they halted within a certain dark and narrow street.

"Whither now?" questioned Sir Pertinax.

"Verily," said Jocelyn, "where but to the gatehouse--"

"Not so," muttered Gurth, "'tis overly well guarded--"

"Aye," growled Will, "which is true, as I'm a tanner!"

"Howbeit," said Jocelyn, "I'm for the gatehouse!"

"And wherefore?" demanded Sir Pertinax.

"In cause of one Rob, a robber."

"Aye, but," said Gurth, "he is to hang at crow-o'-c.o.c.k and 'tis nigh c.o.c.k-crow now."

"The more need for haste," said Jocelyn.

But, even now, as they together spoke, A sullen tramp the sleeping echoes woke, Behind them in the gloom dim forms they saw, While others grimly barred the way before; And so, by reason that they could not fly, They grasped their weapons and prepared to die.

Then in the darkness of that narrow street, Broad axe and pike and flashing sword did meet.

Duke Jocelyn full many a thrust drave home, Till whirling pike-staff smote him on c.o.c.k's-comb, And staggering back to an adjacent wall, In deep-sunk doorway groaning he did fall.

My daughter GILLIAN remonstrateth:

GILL: Now, father, please don't let him die--

MYSELF: No, no, indeed, my Gill, not I, My heroes take a lot of killing--

GILL: Then go on quick, it's very thrilling!

I hope he vanquishes his foes, And let him do it, please, in prose.

"O woe!" said a quavering voice. "Alack, and well-a-wey--"

My daughter GILLIAN demurreth:

GILL: No, father--that's not right at all.

You'd got to where you'd made him fall.

MYSELF: Well, then, Duke Joc'lyn, from his swoon awaking, Found that his head confoundedly was aching; Found he was bruised all down from top to toe--

GILL: A bruise, father, and he a duke? No, no!

Besides, you make A frightful mistake-- A hero's head should never ache; And, father, now, whoever knew A hero beaten black and blue?

And then a bruise, it seems to me, Is unromantic as can be.

He can't be bruised, And shan't be bruised, For, if you bruise him, And ill-use him, I'll refuse him-- No reader, I am sure, would choose A hero any one can bruise.

So, father, if you want him read, Don't bruise him, please--

MYSELF: Enough is said!

At this, Jocelyn sat up and wondered to find himself in a small chamber dim-lit by a smoking cresset. On one side of him leaned an ancient woman, a very hag-like dame

With long, sharp nose that downward curved as though It fain would, beak-like, peck sharp chin below;

and upon his other side a young damsel of a wondrous dark beauty.

"Lady," said he, "where am I?"

"Hush, poor Motley!" whispered the maid. "Thou didst fall 'gainst the door yonder. But speak low, they that seek thy life may yet be nigh."