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

WITH the dawn came a breeze that swept up the mist, and the sun got play. Thirteen weary men were glad of the day; some ranged the upland, and some the slopes between the farm and the lower homestead. At the parting of the mist one spied a point of light; it was the tip of a spear reared upright against the hut. At the lintel was a narrow flutter of white. He cried a signal that was pa**ed along, and ran; and as he ran he began to curse deep, for he could see that the white was a woman's smock. He came near and peered through the chink, and he saw what he thought he should see. Others were in sight running, so he drew away and waited. Sir Aglovale awoke suddenly, alive to day and danger; and the maid Laykin woke as he rose and softly covered her. And as she remembered, and saw the strange man who had lain with her, and felt the light of day upon her, and his eye, she crimsoned and hid her face. Aglovale went to the door and looked out. Hastily he took down her clothes and laid them beside her. "Don, up quickly, and shut your ears against ugly words, for there are some without who will give me a heat for your sake." He took his sword, and as he was, unarmed and coatless, stepped out and shut the door. Four men stood speaking together at a little distance; and afar off two more were coming, and behind these yet another, slower-footed. The four came at him straight, armed with the long staves that moorsmen use over the moss. Sir Aglovale put the point of his sword to ground, and lifted his hand. They were not to be stayed so; but he had no mind to k**. He did but jerk up his sword and shorten two staves at a stroke; a third he avoided and caught in his hand, but the fourth got home and knocked him Sailings. They pinned him down and wrested away his sword. Then they set upon him in plain speech. "God 'a mercy, men!" said Sir Aglovale; "let me up now you have won me. You say wrong. I have ravished no maid this night." At that one fetched him a blow that took his breath. "Vile knight, do you say you found her no maid?" Said another, "So sure as she is no maid you shall be no man." Said Sir Aglovale, faintly, "Sooth, men, your maid is a maid yet for aught I have done with her." Came answer, "Liar! for with my two eyes I saw you together." "Beshrew your two eyes! They gave you false reading." "The maid shall say. Laykin, Laykin!" They set Sir Aglovale on his feet when they had bound his hands; and one went to the door and cooed some grieved words to their poor dove. Then Laykin came out. The men cursed again, for she was pitiful to see. Her clothes, all damp, clung to her ; she was very pale; there was blood on her hair, and, as she put up her hand to her head, her arm showed bruises. Scared and bewildered she looked at the knight and her four kinsmen, and then her blood rushed high and she covered her face with both hands. "Laykin, what has this knight done to you? Has he shamed you anyway?" She could scarcely be heard behind her hands, but she answered, "Yes." "Has he lain with you and forced you?" Again she said, "Yes." "Maiden," cried Sir Aglovale, amazed, "you will k** me!" He took a step towards her, but they forced him back. "Child," he said, "this is lying more perilous than that we had in the dark. Ah! child, is it as innocent?" She put down her hands, and looked at him with troubled eyes. "Good uncles, I have something to say to this knight. Stand away, good uncles, and let us speak alone together." "Laykin, no!" "I must! I must speak to him, and alone." "Laykin, no. You shall not speak save in your father's presence." Tears came. "Oh, my father, my father! would he were come." "He will come soon enough, and he will work this. Go in, Laykin, you have said enough." And then as two more came up, Laykin, weeping, went hastily from fresh eyes and the hearing of shame told. In vain Sir Aglovale spoke; they cursed the truth to scorn. Last came the old man, and he took order of the matter more soberly than his sons. "Poor maid! poor maid!" he muttered, with his eyes screwed hard into distance. "Sons," he said, "this is less my business than yours, and less yours than your brother's. He will be come anon. As the man is a knight he may deal with him not as you would. Bring him along. I will mount Laykin and bring her after." "Good-man," said Sir Aglovale, "as I am a knight I would gladly meet one of my degree to answer with my body, knightly, that the maid is as she should be, for that this night throughout I held her virgin, and right so would uphold her virgin name and fame." The old man turned in a sudden fury. "One of you fetch me out one of his knightly spurs to cram in his knightly throat if he offer more knightly prate. Yea, ravisher, truly you shall answer with your body, but whether as a man or a knight is not yours to choose; that rests with my sons, or their brother. Take him away!" He made for the door, but halted to say, "What is his name? Hey? Not asked? Sir Ravisher, will you to be known to us by any other name?" "I take no keep, but ye may know my name is Sir Aglovale de Galis." The old man s**ed in a long breath with a whistle of dismay. Dismay was on the faces of his sons; they stood without stir or speech, and looked agape on each other and the knight. Step by step the old man came back to look him close in the face. "Sir Aglovale de Galis!" he said at hush; "King Pellinore's son! By Gum! here is a hot brew. Sons, take him away." He stood fixed and staring till they were gone. Now Sir Aglovale took himself heavily. By the looks and silence of these churls he deemed that the blame of evil living still rested on his name. His day-spring was overcast; he sank from the lift that had made light of misadventure and miscarriage. And the blow dealt him had done bodily mischief. The churls were nimble moorsmen, and they took him at a rapid pace that tried him hard. The two that led him did not speak at all. Others fell in with them as the miles pa**ed; and these, hearing his name and his guilt, stood with dismayed faces as he was taken past, and they spoke little and low as they came along with those behind. There were twelve brothers in all. The blithe note of a hunter's horn rang faintly up. "Ah! he has come," said one, and after that they tramped all in dead silence. At a turn of the road the homestead was in sight; and there, on the green, stood a noble horse, and greyhounds were leaping at play. But nearer, close at hand from the rickyard, one unseen was shouting the herdman's call: "Coo-wup, coo-wup, coo-wup! brothers, brothers, brothers! Where is my little white heifer?" Aglovale should know that voice. His brother, Sir Tor, swung out into the road and stood before him. "Brothers!" said Sir Tor, and stopped dead. And Sir Aglovale stopped dead. "Men!" cried Tor, high, "it is my brother, Sir Aglovale!" He took a step, and stopped dead again, for he was smitten with dread at the eyes of twelve brothers; and Sir Aglovale was changing colour red and white. "We know that, lord brother. Sir Tor, he has done you villainy. Your white heifer has been covered by that black bull." "That is false," said Aglovale. Tor set his eyes upon him, and regarded none other. Aglovale came up to him close, looked him in the eyes, and made sure of him. Then he smiled, and Tor heaved a great breath. "Men," he said, "that is false." He took Sir Aglovale by the neck and kissed him; and he cut him free. But as soon as he looked on his other brothers, the grim pity of their stubborn faces daunted him. "Where is my little maid?" "Alas! poor maid, she has come to grief: she is no maid now. That false brother of yours has taken her maidenhood." Again Tor turned to regard Sir Aglovale. "Not so; she has her maidenhood unharmed. I knew not whose daughter she was; but I took and kept her as a clean virgin, and clean she is." "Brothers," said Tor, "I know you say wrong." "Hear an eye-witness, lord brother. I saw. He lay with your daughter. He had her stripped even of her smock. I saw her so in his arms." Tor wheeled, white and staring. "Mercy, Aglovale! answer quick!" "Never fear, Sir Tor, though he says but what he saw. I lay with her, as you might have lain with her, for her comfort and warmth." "Stripped, Sir Aglovale?" "Yea, so. I found her drenched and cold and swooning. To the dark I unclothed her, and with my own coat wrapped her." Said Tor, "Swear you to this? Swear this is all the truth and no worse." "Before God, it is all the truth as it stands for Doomsday. I have not trespa**ed in thought or deed." "Mercy, Sir Aglovale," said Tor, with a sob; "I would scarce believe this on the word of any knight alive but you. Ye brothers good and true, look you! Sir Aglovale is beyond you my best and truest brother. I take his word and believe him." "Your own eyes you must believe, Sir Tor, when you have seen your daughter, as some of us have seen her. She is bruised; she is torn; she weeps." "God in heaven!" cried Tor, in an agony. Aglovale put a hand on him to steady him. "Ah, Tor, you cry out causeless. As you love me, get rid of these churls awhile, and take comfort." Tor struck away his hand. "These churls are my brothers, Sir Aglovale, just as near to me as you are." He stared now with dangerous eyes, and his voice went high and small. "And none of these have ever ravished." It was grievous. Then said Aglovale, short and hard, "That I could tell of them that looked on your daughter. They, for sure, never were acquainted with the mien of a spoiled maid, her eyes, her voice. God grant you have better discernment." "Pardon me, Sir Aglovale," said Tor, with tears; "and ye all! take back your words and be sorry for your error. This is a knight who in right and in wrong utters truth; and well he deserves that his plain word should be taken against any man's oath." "We be churls, lord brother, and sons of Aries le Vaysher; and he is a knight, and son of King Pellinore. But we be honest men, begotten of an honest man; and he is a ravisher, begotten of a ravisher." "Cease! say not so to me, King Pellinore's son." "We say so as we are your mother's sons. And our Laykin has mother's blood, and is ours as well as yours. And now she is as our mother was when your father had done with her, and your father's son has been the doer." "Oh, churls," cried Tor, "where is my dear daughter? I will see her and know for myself. Cease, Sir Aglovale! Cease all, lest I go mad!" Said Aglovale, "God give you wisdom and patience when you do see her. For alas! Tor, I ruffled your poor bird in the dark, and I doubt you will not find her smooth." Tor turned desperate. "What is this? How do you mean? Speak! For God's sake, Sir Aglovale, put me out of this misery. Oh, quick! pierce me in and out. Give no denial, you have touched too far for cure. Only put me past this misery. How shall I not find her smooth?" "I was rough. She speaks me amiss." "Aye, Sir Tor, she speaks. We churl men go for naught, but you will hear your own daughter, and what she says is not smooth to hear." "Is this your meaning, Sir Aglovale?" Hopeless to spare his brother, Aglovale said, "Yes." Nothing he could say would profit at this pa**. "Go on, brothers; what has she said?" "As we told you, that he has lain with her and forced her." "Is this what she says, Sir Aglovale?" "Yes," said Aglovale, again. The churl brothers beheld in wonder the two unhappy men, for they suffered in fortitude and silence, and no words of protest or rebuke pa**ed between them. Sir Tor was as still as stone. Sir Aglovale swayed and breathed hard. Neither looked at the other, for each had a double load of grief as much as he could bear. Long minutes wrung by before Sir Tor spoke. "Where is my dear?" he said, and took a step. Already some were aware of the sound of hoofs approaching, that Sir Aglovale did not hear as his heart was all on his brother. There was weeping among the churls, for they had to mind that they who were charged to keep the maid had failed. Yet gentle Sir Tor forbore harsh language. He spoke to Sir Aglovale, but did not look at him. "I do not think to k** you, Sir Aglovale, even for this. Go, live, for you are my father's son." Out spoke the churls fierce and eager, "No, Sir Tor, you need not k** him. Leave him to us, and we will deal with him as he deserves." Sir Tor turned. "Leave Sir Aglovale to himself. He needs no juster judge and no harder." Round the bend came Aries le Vaysher, with Laykin mounted on the knight's horse; and Aglovale, right glad, took breath seeing his time was come to speak. "Fair dear brother," he said, "now take your misery with both hands, and turn it inside out, for it is folly and untruth. Let your churl brothers k** me shamefully if this niece of theirs and mine prove no maid. Look at me, Tor! Could I look you in the face had I done the deed you think and found her to be your daughter? Oh, fair fool brother, I would rather go quick to hide in Hell." Tor wavered at the force of his words, and, looking at him, tears of hope sprang to his eyes. Laykin slipped down and came running, for she saw her father; and then stopped short, for she saw Sir Aglovale. Cried Tor, "Colombe, my dove, my dear!" Straight to his arms she sped, and he held her close and kissed her. Aries le Vaysher came and stood. He was mum and hard, and plainly would not serve for any better information. Sir Aglovale was troubled, seeing the tight-shut mouth and hostile eyes screwed against him. He had thought that the old man might come to lift the sky with a word; for surely, alone with the maid, one of authority and old and shrewd would lightly have learned the truth. Then Sir Tor put back his daughter and surveyed her, and his hope was well-nigh daunted to d**h when he saw the marks of violence upon her, and the blemish of distress on her fair face, and the painful colour that rose under his eye. "Colombe, dear daughter, what is the truth? What has this knight done?" She whispered, low, "He has shamed me," and fell a-weeping. "Ah, child, be plain. Speak in as plain words as you can." She whispered louder, "He has lain with me and forced me." And then she quavered, "Oh, take me away! Here are all so many." Still Sir Tor held her off, and regarded her with pressing doubt not extinguished by her words; for had she indeed the eyes and the voice of a maid ravished? His brother had spoken shrewdly. Tor looked to him again desperately. Said Aglovale, "Bid her face me." "So do, daughter: face this knight." She obeyed, and turned a face dyed with blushes, and lifted troubled eyes. "God bless the maid!" said Aglovale, "she speaks as a maid who knows no worse what to speak. She should go to her mother." She said, "Ah, fair father, let me speak with the knight alone." "Child, as you love me, speak out bravely here and now in my presence." She shrank and said, "No, no." Said Aglovale, grim, "I tell you that, saving your father's presence and better right, I would be dealing as forcibly for good with your maiden understanding as I did with your maiden body." She took shelter in her father's arms. "Oh, cease!" said Tor. "She shall not suffer rude language. She shall go to my mother." "Give me leave for a moment more," said Aglovale; "and I promise to go gently. "Remember, child, how I promised to deal with you as a daughter. Know that in every truth you are but one degree less near to me than a daughter, for I am your father's brother, Sir Aglovale de Galis." She said, "My uncle!" and fronted him with wide eyes. Said Aglovale, "Now, child, look at your father and listen well, and answer me once. When I made you lie with me against your will, and had you in my arms, in what particular did I not father you as truly as your own father, Sir Tor?" Obediently Colombe listened, with face upturned to her father. She answered timidly, "Namely, sir, but in one particular: put case you had been my own father, truly you would have kissed your daughter." Aries le Vaysher was the first to laugh. Tor laughed and wept together as he held her fast. "O foolish little simpleton, to ado about nothing!" The twelve brothers fell to laughter. Sir Aglovale was smiling; and said he, "I will make amends, Laykin Colombe, if it please you." It did not please her; she shrank from him. The rude laughter of the men brought out fresh blushes and tears. Said Tor, "Lightly, daughter, go speak alone with Sir Aglovale." "No, no," she said in dismay; "not now." "How now, silly bird!" In strange confusion she stood, and her face grew burning red. "Oh, I cannot: I did not know him for my uncle. Oh, mercy! Let me from such shame and sin." "Where are we now?" cried Aglovale. "Sir Tor, speak you alone with her." "No, no," she said again, "for ye are brothers." "Marry! how these maids do try us men. So, ye men, guess what ado I had to deal with her gently in the dark." That rude laughter of the men had brought out another. Beyond the rickyard gate stood the old mother, shading her eyes to look. "O Grammer!" cried Colombe. "In good time!" said Sir Tor. "Begone, O ruffled dove, and get from her a little wisdom." She went like a bird to its nest. But soon as she was gone those two strong brothers came to themselves and each other, shaken and weak from the strain that had tried them so, almost past bearing. Sir Tor kneeled down before his brother, and scarcely could he speak. He said brokenly, "God reward you and bless you for that you have done and suffered by me and mine." With one accord the churl brothers kneeled also. "God love you, sir, and forgive us our bloody words." Sir Aglovale kneeled down also, and worshipped devoutly in his heart; and he uttered aloud praise and thankings to God Almighty who had fathered them all in the dark. But Aries le Vaysher did not kneel. He looked on with tight mouth and hard screwed eyes; and as soon as they rose up, said he, deliberately: "I knew sure enough all along that she was well a maid." He hugged himself and chuckled. "How? From Laykin over and over. But from her very first words I knew." Sir Aglovale muttered, "Here is not such a genuine blind fool as I deemed, but a cruel knave." Aries went on, "First thing says Laykin, she would not have minded so much, says Laykin, had it been her old Gramfer's doing." He chuckled wickedly, and his sons were tickled to loud laughter again. "Eh, sons! I might have whistled you back: but not I." "Sonties!" said the sons, "but that was unkindness." "Eh, sons!" he said, slow and hard. "But I choose to leave the son of his father to stew." He eyed Sir Aglovale with surly satisfaction, unmoved by the stir among his sons. They blew against him for their part, and for Sir Tor's. Said Aries, "As for Sir Tor, he is no son of mine; so, says I, the pair of them might sweat it out together. As for you, sons, a set of blind fools you were, and now you know." "Look you, father, had we k**ed the knight amongst us you would have been damned for the deed, and Sir Tor presently after would have been ready to k** you also." "No, no," said the old man. "It was not k**ing you meant, sons. And I know Sir Tor better than that: he would not think to slay his brother. No, nor would he lay hands upon one who had fathered him well for eighteen years, when he was a very undutiful son." "We be sons to a hoary head of disgrace to us all. God defend that we sons pay for this devilling of our father!" The old man regarded the two brothers of noble blood. Their strong content with each other stood them above petty resentment. "Eh, sons, these be two king's sons, who have paid smart for their father and his trespa**ing in my field. If they grudge at the price, I will pay them back well on their father's name all that is due." Said Sir Tor, "Father Vaysher, you are a poorer man than I knew, and I grudge not your price." Said Sir Aglovale, "By my father's soul, had I to pay dearer for that trespa** of his, I would gladly, for the sake of this brother of mine who was then begotten." Aries stood blinking and rubbing his chin, and took no heed to his sons who opened mouth again. Then said he in a sort of fury: "By Gum! King Pellinore by right and by wrong has begot rare good sons." He added soberly, "God rest his soul, and give him joy of his son Sir Aglovale de Galis, for that he is pa**ing good, gentle, and honest, by proof on a fair young maid and a foul old churl. And he King Pellinore's son!" "God keep him to peace!" muttered Aglovale. "By your leave, Father Vaysher," said Sir Tor, smiling, "I would show this rare man to my mother." "By your leave, lord son," said Aries, sharply, "I would show this rare man to my wife." He turned about. "Here, my lord Sir Aglovale, is your coat, and there is my house. Use the one as freely as you do the other." "Gramercy!" said Sir Aglovale. "Sooth, I am starving outside and in." At that Aries trudged ahead briskly, and then Sir Tor said softly, "Truly he loved me better than any of his own sons; and he took it sore knowing that I was not his, and grudged me to my father. He is a good man; he never miscalled my mother."