The Geste of Duke Jocelyn Part 37

Free of all duty thou dost go, Save that which thou to Love dost owe, My n.o.ble Pertinax."

"And love from heaven hath stooped thus low To me!" quoth Pertinax.

But here came Robin with certain of his men leading a snow-white palfrey richly caparisoned.

"Right n.o.ble lady," said he, "behold here a goodly, fair jennet to thy gracious acceptance."

"And indeed--'t is rare, pretty beast!" exclaimed Benedicta. "But Robin, Robin, O Sir Robert, whence had you this?"

"Lady, upon a time I was an outlaw and lived as outlaws may, taking such things as Fate bestowed, and, lady:

"Fate is a wind To outlaws kind:

But now since we be free-men all, I and my fellows, fain would we march hence in thy train to thy honour and our joyance. Wilt grant us this boon, lady?"

"Freely, for 'tis rare good thought, Robin! Surely never rode duke and d.u.c.h.ess so attended. How the townsfolk shall throng and stare to see our wild following, and my worthy guardians gape and pluck their beards for very amaze! How think you, good Friar John?"

"Why, verily, daughter, I, that am chiefest of thy wardens ten, do think it wise measure; as for thy other guardians let them pluck and gape until they choke.

"In especial Greg'ry Bax, Who both beard and wisdom lacks.

I say 'tis wise, good measure, for these that were outlaws be st.u.r.dy fellows with many friends in town and village, so shall this thy day of union be for them re-union, and they joy with thee."

Now being mounted the d.u.c.h.ess rode where stood Jocelyn, and looked down on him merry-eyed.

"Sir Fool," said she, "who thou art I know not, but I have hunted in Brocelaunde ere now, and I have eyes. And as thou 'rt friend to my dear lord, friend art thou of mine, so do we give thee joyous welcome to our duchy. And, being thy friend, I pray thou may'st find that wonder of wonders the which hideth but to be found, and once found, shall make wise Fool wiser."

"Sweet friend and lady," answered Jocelyn, "surely man so unlovely as I may not know this wonder for his very own until it first seek him. Is 't not so? Let now thy woman's heart counsel me."

"How, Sir Wise Folly, have I not heard thee preach boldness in love ere now?"

"Aye--for others!" sighed Jocelyn. "But for myself--I fear--behold this motley! This scarred face!"

"Why as to thy motley it becometh thee well--"

"Aye, but my face? O, 't is a hideous face!"

"O Fool!" sighed Benedicta, "know'st thou not that True-love's eyes possess a magic whereby all loved things become fair and beauteous. So take courage, n.o.ble Motley, and may thy desires be crowned--even as our own."

"Gramercy, thou sweet and gentle lady. Happiness companion thee alway and Love sing ever within thee. Now for ye twain is love's springtime, a season of sweet promise, may each promise find fulfilment and so farewell."

"Why then, Sir Fool, an thou wilt tarry here in the good greenwood a while, may Love guide thee. Now here is my counsel: Follow where thy heart commandeth and--fear not! And now, Sir Robert a' Forest, form thy company, and since this is a day of gladness let them sing as they march."

"In sooth, dear my lady, that will we!" cried Robin. "There is song o'

spring and gladness I made that hath oft been our solace, and moreover it beginneth and endeth with jolly chorus well beknown to all. Ho, pikes to van and rear! Bows to the flanks--fall in! Now trusty friends o' the greenwood, free-men all, henceforth--now march we back to hearth and home and love, so sing ye--sing!"

Hereupon from the ragged, close-ordered ranks burst a shout that swelled to rolling chorus; and these the words:

The Men: Sing high, sing low, sing merrily--hey!

And cheerily let us sing, While youth is youth then youth is gay And youth shall have his fling.

Robin: The merry merle on leafy spray, The lark on fluttering wing Do pipe a joyous roundelay, To greet the blithesome spring.

Hence, hence cold Age, black Care--away!

Cold Age black Care doth bring; When back is bowed and head is grey, Black Care doth clasp and cling.

Black Care doth rosy Pleasure stay, Age ageth everything; 'T is farewell sport and holiday, On flowery mead and ling.

If Death must come, then come he may, And wed with death-cold ring, Yet ere our youth and strength decay, Blithe Joy shall be our king.

The Men: Sing high, sing low, sing merrily--hey!

And cheerily we will sing.

So they marched blithely away, a right joyous company, flashing back the sunset glory from bright headpiece and sword-blade, while Jocelyn stood watching wistful-eyed until they were lost amid the green, until all sounds of their going grew to a hush mingling with the whisper of leaves and murmurous gurgle of the brook; and ever the shadows deepened about him, a purple solitude of misty trees and tangled thickets, depth on depth, fading to a glimmering mystery.

Suddenly amid these glooming shadows a shadow moved, and forth into the darkling glade, mighty club on mighty shoulder, stepped Lobkyn Lollo the Dwarf, and his eyes were pensive and he sighed gustily.

"Alack!" quoth he:

"So here's an end of outlawry, And all along o' lady, Yet still an outlaw I will be Shut in o' shaws so shady.

And yet it is great shame, I trow, That our good friends should freemen go And leave us lonely to our woe, And all along o' lady.

"And plague upon this love, I say, For stealing thus thy friend away, And since fast caught and wed is he Thy friend henceforth is lost to thee, And thou, poor Fool, dost mope and sigh, And so a plague on love! say I."

"Nay, good Lobkyn, what know you of love?" Answered LOBKYN:

"Marry, enough o' love know I To steal away if love be nigh.

"For love's an ill as light as air, Yet heavy as a stone; O, love is joy and love is care, A song and eke a groan.

"Love is a sickness, I surmise, Taketh a man first by the eyes, And stealing thence into his heart, There gripeth him with bitter smart.

Alas, poor soul, What bitter dole, Doth plague his every part!

"From heart to liver next it goes, And fills him full o' windy woes, And, being full o' gusty pain, He groaneth oft, and sighs amain, Poor soul is he In verity, And for his freedom sighs in vain."

"Miscall not love, Lobkyn, for sure True-love is every man's birthright."

Quoth LOBKYN:

"Why then, methinks there's many a wight That cheated is of his birthright, As, item first, here's Lobkyn Lollo To prove thine argument quite hollow.

Dare I at maid to cast mine eye, She mocketh me, and off doth fly,

And all because I'm humped o' back, And something to my stature lack.

Thus, though I'm stronger man than three, No maid may love the likes o' me.

Next, there's thyself--a Fool, I swear, At fight or song beyond compare.

But--thou 'rt unlovely o' thy look, And this no maid will ever brook.

So thou and I, for weal or woe, To our lives' end unloved must go.

But think ye that I grieve or sigh?

Not so! A plague on love, say I!"