Clemence Housman - The Life of Sir Aglovale de Galis - Chapter XVIII lyrics

THE next record of Aglovale tells how he meddled with Sir Hermind and lost and won. When after long absence he returned to Galis, he was slow to learn that old conditions were void. Sir Hermind in fact and in name ruled, and had no mind to lend himself again for mask and tool to his difficult kinsman. Yet knowing the curst unhappy temper of Sir Aglovale, he was patient and considerate, and slow to teach him; and remembering Sir Tor's saying, he may come to rust now he is broken, he took thought to put into his hands many matters of difficulty and moment. Such charges were those as Sir Aglovale aforetime had chosen for his part to fulfil, and now at request he carried through certain of the sterner needs of government for retribution and exemplary justice. Too thoroughly he performed, with ruthlessness and butchery that Sir Hermind did not approve. But censures now were of no more effect than were counsels to mercy of old. Sir Aglovale paid little heed; rather was he the more extreme as to his mind Sir Hermind inclined too often to leniency, and Galis fared so much the worse. Once he took upon him to deal unauthorized, and Sir Hermind sent warning; twice, and Sir Hermind sent threatening. At last he went too far, and by an outrageous deed provoked stronger measure than words. He defied Sir Hermind's warrant for mercy, granted unwisely to the prayer of an importunate mother, and hanged two dangerous young men, hostages whose lives were forfeit by the treason of their kindred. The circumstances made Sir Aglovale's offence flagrant and deliberate. On suspicion of his kinsman's inexpedient mildness, he hasted to forestall it with his own harsh justice, and rode hot by night with a single man to claim his hostages from the keeper in charge. So, as he ordered, within the hour they were prepared and shriven, and brought from hold to the gallows on a bridgeway in the sight of townsfolk and friends. Came the messenger riding for life, and delivered Sir Hermind's letters and seal. Sir Aglovale took these and considered, and then gave the word for execution forthright. But here the keeper questioned, remonstrated, warned him that he doubted his authority to deal; and he and all his men refused to serve, and would do naught, as they would have to answer to Sir Hermind. "As for that, I will have it done," said Sir Aglovale, "and myself I will answer to Sir Hermind. Howbeit I will have this done so you and your men shall stand altogether clear." Therewith he bade his own man do the work; and he took out his sword, and went and kept the bridge-end against the crowd till the work was done. He departed, and rode down to Milford Haven to awe other traitors, and left to a more convenient season, as less urgent matter, adjustment and understanding with Sir Hermind. Soon came summons that struck a pause. He was bidden return straightway to Cardiff, and to bring with him his hangman. He thought fit then to obey; and as he rode he went over the matter in his mind, and so came heavy and sober to Cardiff, and sought audience of his cousin. That was refused him till the day following, when Sir Hermind sat in council. Sir Aglovale came in with his sword ungirt, sans spurs, shield, helm; and when Sir Hermind saw him so, the least spark of anger died, and he was pa**ing grieved and heavy for that he had to do. He required Sir Aglovale to give an account of what he had done. So he did faithfully, acknowledging that he had received his order to spare, and had gone against it; and he asked leave to lay down what firm and weighty reasons there were for so doing. That was refused him. Sir Hermind rehearsed his right to the absolute rule of Galis, by line of inheritance, by consent, by election sanctioned and confirmed of King Arthur; and he required Sir Aglovale to show if he had right to overrule his warrant and denounce his prerogative. Said Aglovale, "From my birth I belonged to Galis. What I have done was for the weal of Galis. I had no other purpose." Sir Hermind put down that plea; he was the head of Galis, and the weal of Galis could never be sound while injuriously Sir Aglovale practised against his head. He spoke firm without harsh language; he had not forgot how much he owed to Sir Aglovale, and what strong excuse, by reason of their former footing, there was for him, whose will was long dominant before he was made able and sure enough to cope with wild Galis alone. But Sir Aglovale put forward no protest on these grounds. He said that verily he had considered that reprieve came rather from Sir Hermind's good heart; and he, slighting it, had purposed to appeal to his good head when he came to render account. Sir Hermind told him that he could not hear him till he had purged his contempt; and Sir Aglovale answered, right so he would, and make reparation all so much as Sir Hermind required. Full reparation Sir Hermind required: he was to pay down at the gallows-tree the price of blood; he was to take down the dead bodies and carry them to decent burial; he was to withdraw to Cardigan and keep the room of his castle till the following feast of Christmas. This was stark dealing, and Sir Aglovale was shocked; and so, indeed, were others there present, who, had he revolted to defiance, might have stood by him for his father's sake, and because they were at one with him in this instance as to the unwisdom of Sir Hermind in remitting forfeit. Against common expectation Sir Aglovale answered submissive; but presently he was more shocked when Sir Hermind had before him his man, and ordered him to the gallows-tree with his master to take his penalty under the hangman's lash, and with him to go bury the dead. Said Aglovale for the man: he had done no wrong; he had done his duty, obeying his master without question; what fault there was was his alone. He spoke in vain; and in vain he offered to redeem his man at full blood price; upon all he could say there was answer to confound him from his own harsh doings. He was cruelly hurt. He smote down his head and asked for mercy, pardon for his man. Sir Hermind swore by his head he would not grant it. Aglovale said no more; the taste of bootless humiliation choked him. Sir Hermind required no pledge, but let him go; he had his man for surety. So in due time Sir Aglovale met his man at the gallows-tree, and each paid his penalty. And they took down the two dead bodies and carried them to burial, to the great delight of townsfolk and friends, so that the keeper and Sir Lamiel of Cardiff, with all their men, had much ado to deliver them clear. And when all was done and ma**es said, Sir Aglovale's man stood up before him, plucked from his coat his badge, and flung it underfoot. "Do me right, my lord; pay me the price of my blood, for I quit your service. I will serve a master who can ensure me a whole skin when I do his orders." Sir Lamiel of Cardiff cursed the man fiercely, as Sir Aglovale stood for a moment out of words. Then said he, "Fair sir, let be, he asks but right." He paid the full price he had offered for redemption; and the man took it shifting and muttering. "If he will have me, I will serve Sir Hermind." Said Sir Aglovale, "You serve him well already." He turned to Sir Lamiel and charged him with a message to Sir Hermind, and prayed him to report fairly, and to speak well for his man, an honest and trusty knave. Then he departed for Cardigan. Right heavy at heart was Sir Hermind before Sir Lamiel came in. What he had done he believed to be right and just and needful, and he might not repent; yet he was greatly troubled. He was noble, upright, and scrupulous, and his gain over Sir Aglovale smote him with compunction. Had Sir Aglovale come in armed and defied him, had he denounced his failing, had he opened out as to their old terms of joint authority and reproached him for ingratitude, had he claimed his privilege to justify himself in battle, then had he played a part right and honourable, and those present in council would incline to worship and esteem him better than now in effect they did. But he had come in surrendered, he had owned and bowed to his authority, he had petitioned and been denied, he had met unforeseen rigour and had not revolted. Sir Lamiel came in and told all he had witnessed. "And Sir Aglovale prays you take well his fair greeting of farewell, for he thinks to have done his last for the welfare of Galis; so God keep you your heart as you have proved it upon him, and all is well." "This is too hard for me!" said Sir Hermind, grieving. Said Sir Lamiel, "Oh, sir, pray God for yourself and Galis that you win quit of his danger." "God help and reward Sir Aglovale de Galis. I think him the truest man alive." But Sir Lamiel doubted. "Such meekness is not according to his nature. Trust him not!" Next day Sir Hermind rode forth with his young son Mariet, and did not return. Meanwhile, across the hills and valleys of Galis, then fresh with the lilies and palm-wands of Easter-tide, Sir Aglovale had taken his way, sorrow-laden, to withdraw to the narrow room of his castle walls at Cardigan. He knew well that his course was over in the land he was born to rule. Sir Hermind was fit and able enough, and his meddling was needless and mischievous. He came to Cardigan thwarted, defeated, weary of vain effort. Two young squires, ba*tard sons to Sir Durnor, were fighting at play on the castle green. The elder and the taller went down shocked over his horse's tail. Sir Aglovale smiled at that. That night he could not sleep, and according to custom he rose and walked. From the bed where Percivale had left him he went, and roamed the vacant chambers where sweet Gilleis had lived and died, and the hall where Sir Marhaus had thundered from heaven; he climbed up under the stars, to look down upon the ceaseless river, and the outlying isle where her dear body was a part of the mould, and afar on the span of bridge where Brose drove him off and drubbed him; and then back again he came to the bed where Percivale had left him. It was the brink of Easter Day, midnight past, but still dark, with not a hint of dawn behind the hills. He lay down once more and slept, sound without a dream, as ever he slept since the night of avowal there. Came the voice of Percivale crying him awake. "Aglovale, Aglovale!" Beside his bed stood Percivale, pale as are the dead, tears in his eyes, his arms wide. Against his face dawned a light so clear that it faded as stars fade at sunrise. Aglovale answered and sprang. He gathered great darkness to his breast. So he knew that Percivale was dead.