Complete Works of William Morris, page 133
Said the Earl: “Not if the Lord of Meadham be thy friend? Well then, how if the Lady and Queen of Meadham make thee the wedding?”
Said Christopher: “I were liefer to make mine own wedding, whenso I need a woman in my bed: I will compel no woman, nor ask others to compel her.”
The Earl rose up, and fell to pacing the prison to and fro; and at last he stood over against Christopher, and said: “Hearken, forester: I will foretell thy fortune; it is that thou shalt become great by wedding.”
Christopher held his peace; and the Earl spake again: “Now is the shortest word best. We deem thee both goodly and doughty, and would wed thee to a great lady, even that one to whom thou hast shown kindness in the wilderness.”
Said Christopher: “It is the wont of great lords to mock poor folk, therefore I must not show anger against thee.”
“I mock thee not,” said the Earl; “I mean nought, but as my words say.”
“Nay then,” said Christopher, “thou biddest me an evil deed, great Lord. What I said was that I would compel no woman; and shall I compel her who is the wonder of the world and my very own Lady?”
“Hold thy peace, sir fool,” said the Earl; “let me tell thee that she is as like to compel thee as thou her. And as to her being thy Lady, she shall be thy Lady and wife indeed; but not here, for above all things will she get her away from Greenharbour, and thou shalt be her champion, to lead her about the world like a knight errant.”
Now was Christopher so troubled that he knew not what countenance to make, and scarce might he get a word out of his mouth a long while. At last he said: “Lord, I see that I must needs do thy will if this be no trap which thou hast set for me. But overwonderful it is, that a great lady should be wedded to a gangrel churl.”
The Earl laughed: “Many a ferly fares to the fair-eyed,” quoth he; “and also I will tell thee in thine ear that this Lady may not be so great as her name is great. Did she praise her life-days to thee?”
“Nay,” said Christopher; “I mind me well, she called herself the poor captive.”
“She said but sooth,” quoth the Earl; “and her going away from Greenharbour is instead of her captivity; and I tell thee it is by that only I may make her joyous. And now one word: thou that criest out For the Tofts in battle art not altogether unfriended, meseemeth.”
Christopher looked up proudly and fiercely: he said: “Forsooth, Lord, my friends are good, though thou callest them wolf-heads and gallows-meat.”
“Champion,” said the Earl, laughing, “that may well be sooth; and there are a many ups and downs in the world. Bethink thee that the time may come when thou and thy friends may wend to my help, and may win the names of knight and baron and earl: such hap hath been aforetime. And now I crave of thee, when thou comest back to the Tofts, to bid Jack fall upon other lands than Meadham when he rideth, because of the gift and wedding that I give thee now. So, lad, I deem that thou hast chosen thy part; but let not the tale thereof go out of thy mouth, or thou wilt gab away thy wedding. Lo, thou, I leave this door open behind me; and presently shall the smith come here to do away thine irons; and I shall send a squire to thee to lead thee to a fair chamber, and to bring thee goodly raiment, and do thou play amongst thy fellows as one of the best of them; and show them, if thou wilt, some such feats in peace as yesterday thou showedst them in battle. And to-morrow there will be new tidings.” And therewith he departed.
No worse than his word he was, and anon came the smith and the squire; and he was brought to a chamber, and raiment of fine linen and silk and embroidery was brought to him: and when he was new clad he looked like a king’s son, whereas aforetime he looked like a God of the Gentiles of old. All men praised his beauty and his courtesy, and after dinner was, and they had rested, they bade him play with them and show them his prowess, and he was nought loth thereto, and did what he might in running and leaping, and casting of the bar, and shooting in the bow. And in all these things he was so far before everyone, that they marvelled at him, and said it was well indeed that he had not been slain yesterday. As to wrestling, therein he might do but little; for all forbore him after the first man had stood before him, a squire, well learned in war, and long and tough, and deemed a very stark man; him Christopher threw over his shoulder as though he had been a child of twelve years. So wore the day at Greenharbour in merrier wise for all good folk than for many a day had been the wont there.
CHAPTER XX. OF THE WEDDING OF CHRISTOPHER AND GOLDILIND.
Early on the morrow came the Earl unto Goldilind, and she received him gladly, as one who had fashioned life anew for her. And when he had sat down by her, he spake and said: “Lady, thou cravedst of me yesterday two things; the first was freedom from the captivity of Greenharbour; and the second, life and liberty for the varlet that cherished thee in the wild-wood the other day. Now thy first asking grieved me, for that thou hast been tyrannously done by; and thy second I wondered at; but since I have seen the young man, I wonder the less; for he is both so goodly, and so mighty of body, and of speech bold and free, yet gentle and of all courtesy, that he is meet to be knight or earl, yea, or very king. Now, therefore, in both these matters I will well to do thy pleasure, and in one way it may be; and thou mayst then go forth from Greenharbour as free as a bird, and thy varlet’s life may be given unto him, and mickle honour therewith. Art thou, then, willing to do after my rede and my commandment, so that both these good things may betide thee?”
“Right willing am I,” she said, “to be free and happy and to save the life of a fair youth and kind.”
“Then,” said he, “there is one thing for thee to do: that this day thou wed this fair and kind youth, and let him lead thee forth from Greenharbour; and, belike, he will bring thee to no ill stead; for his friends are mightier than mayhappen thou deemest.”
She turned as red as blood at his word; she knit her brows, and her eyes flashed as she answered: “Is it seemly for a King’s daughter to wed a nameless churl? And now I know thee, Lord Earl, what thou wouldst do; thou wouldst be King of Meadham and put thy master’s daughter to the road.” And she was exceeding wroth.
But he said, smiling somewhat: “Was it then seemly for the King’s daughter to kneel for this man’s life, and go near to swooning for joy when it was granted to her?”
“Yea,” she said, “for I love him with all my body and soul; and I would have had him love me par amours, and then should I have been his mistress and he my servant; but now shall he be my master and I his servant.” And still was she very wroth.
Quoth the Earl: “As to the matter of my being King of Meadham, that will I be, whatever befall, or die in the place else. So if thou wilt not do my rede, then must the varlet whom thou lovest die, and at Greenharbour must thou abide with Dame Elinor. There is no help for it.”
She shrieked out at that word of his, and well nigh swooned, lying back in her chair: but presently fell a-weeping sorely. But the Earl said: “Hearken, my Lady, I am not without warrant to do this. Tell me, hast thou ever seen any fairer or doughtier than this youngling?”
“Never,” said she.
“So say we all,” he said. “Now I shall tell thee (and I can bring witness to it) that in his last hour the King, thy father, when he gave thee into my keeping, spake also this: that I should wed thee to none save the fairest and doughtiest man that might be found: even so would I do now. What then sayest thou?”
She answered not, but still wept somewhat; then said the Earl: “Lady, give me leave, and I shall send thy women to thee, and sit in the great hall for an hour, and if within that while thou send a woman of thine to say one word, Yes, unto me, then is all well. But if not, then do I depart from Greenharbour straightway, and take the youngling with me to hang him up on the first tree. Be wise, I pray thee.”
And therewith he went his ways. But Goldilind, being left alone a little, rose up and paced the chamber to and fro, and her tears and sobbing ceased; and a great and strange joy grew up in her heart, mingled with the pain of longing, so that she might rest in nowise. Even therewith the door opened, and her women entered, Aloyse first, and she called to her at once, and bade her to find Earl Geoffrey in the great hall, and say to him: Yes. So Aloyse went her ways, and Goldilind bade her other women to array her in the best and goodliest wise that they might. And the day was yet somewhat young. Now it must be said of Earl Geoffrey that, in spite of his hard word, he had it not in his heart either to slay Christopher or to leave Goldilind at Greenharbour to the mercy of Dame Elinor.
CHAPTER XXI. OF THE WEDDING OF THOSE TWAIN.
Now were folk gathered in the hall, and the Earl Geoffrey was standing on the dais by the high-seat, and beside him a worthy clerk, the Abbot of Meadhamstead, a monk of St. Benedict, and next to him the Burgreve of Greenharbour, and then a score of knights all in brave raiment, and squires withal, and sergeants; but down in the hall were the men-at-arms and serving-men, and a half hundred of folk of the countryside, queans as well as carles, who had been gathered for the show and bidden in. No other women were there in the hall till Goldilind and her serving-women entered. She went straight up the hall, and took her place in the high-seat; and for all that her eyes seemed steady, she had noted Christopher standing by the shot-window just below the dais.
Now when she was set down, and there was silence in the hall, Earl Geoffrey came forth and said: “Lords and knights, and ye good people, the Lady Goldilind, daughter of the Lord King Roland that last was, is now of age to wed; and be it known unto you, that the King, her father, bade me, in the last words by him spoken, to wed her to none but the loveliest and strongest that might be, as witness I can bring hereto. Now such a man have I sought hereto in Meadhamstead and the much-peopled land of Meadham, and none have I come on, however worthy he were of deeds, or well-born of lineage, but that I doubted me if he were so fair or so doughty as might be found; but here in this half-desert corner of the land have I gotten a man than whom none is doughtier, as some of you have found to your cost. And tell me all you, where have ye seen any as fair as this man?” And therewith he made a sign with his hand, and forth strode Christopher up on to the dais; and he was so clad, that his kirtle was of white samite, girt with a girdle of goldsmith’s work, whereby hung a good sword of like fashion, and over his shoulders was a mantle of red cloth-of-gold, furred with ermine, and lined with green sendall; and on his golden curled locks sat a chaplet of pearls.
Then to the lords and all the people he seemed so fair and fearless and kind that they gave a great shout of welcome; and Goldilind came forth from her chair, as fair as a June lily, and came to Christopher and reached out her hand to him, but he refrained him a moment, so that all they could see how sweet and lovely a hand it was, and then he took it, and drew her to him, and kissed her mouth before them all; and still he held her hand, till the Abbot of Meadhamstead aforetold came and stood by them and blessed them.
Then spake the Earl again: “Lo ye, here hath been due betrothal of these twain, and ye may see how meet they be for each other in goodliness and kindness. Now there lacketh nought but they should be wedded straightway; and all is arrayed in the chapel; wherefore if this holy man will come with us and do on his mass-hackle, our joy shall be fulfilled; save that thereafter shall feast and merriment await all you in this hall, and we shall be there to welcome all comers in this house of Greenharbour, whereas this our gracious Lady has long abided so happily.”
Man looked on man here and there, and smiled a little as he spake, but none said aught, for there were none save the Earl’s servants there, and a sort of poor wretches.
So therewithal they went their ways to the chapel where was the wedding done as grandly as might be, considering they were in no grander place than Greenharbour. And when all was done, and folk began to flow away from the chapel, and Goldilind sat shamefaced but strangely happy in a great stall of the choir, the Earl called Christopher unto him, and said: “My lad, I deem that some great fortune shall betide thee since already thou hast begun so luckily. But I beseech thee mar not thy fortune by coming back with thy fair wife to the land of Meadham; or else it may be thou shalt cast thy life away, and that will bring her sorrow, as I can see well.”
He spake this grimly, though he smiled as he spake. But he went on more gently: “I will not send you twain away empty-handed; when ye go out a-gates into the wide world, ye shall find two fair horses for your riding, well bedight, and one with a woman’s saddle; and, moreover, a sumpter beast, not very lightly burdened, for on one side of him he beareth achest wherein is, first of all, the raiment of my Lady, and beneath it some deal of silver and gold and gems; but on the other side is victual and drink for the way for you, and raiment for thee, youngling. How sayest thou, is it well?”
“It is well, Lord,” said Christopher; “yet would I have with me the raiment wherewith I came hither, and my bow and my sax.”
“Yea and wherefore, carle?” said Earl Geoffrey.
Said the youngling: “We be going to ride the wild-wood, and it might be better for safety’s sake that I be so clad as certain folk look to see men ride there.”
But he reddened as he spake; and the Earl said: “By Allhallows! but it is not ill thought of; and, belike, the same-like kind of attire might be better to hide the queenship of the Lady from the wood-folk than that which now she weareth?”
“True is that, Lord,” quoth Christopher.
“Yet,” said the Earl, “I will have you go forth from the Castle clad in your lordly weed, lest folk of mine say that I have stripped my Lady and cast her forth: don ye your poor raiment when in the wood ye be.”
Therewith he called to a squire, and bade him seek out that poor raiment of the new-wedded youngling, and bow withal and shafts good store, and do all on the sumpter; and, furthermore, he bade him tell one of my Lady’s women to set on the sumpter some of Goldilind’s old and used raiment. So the squire did the Earl’s will, and both got Christopher’s gear and also found Aloyse and gave her the Earl’s word.
She smiled thereat, and went straightway and fetched the very same raiment, green gown and all, which she had brought to Goldilind in prison that other day, and in which Goldilind had fled from Greenharbour. And when she had done them in the chest above all the other gear, she stood yet beside the horses amidst of the varlets and squires who were gathered there to see the new-wedded folk depart.
Presently then came forth through the gate those two, hand in hand, and Earl Geoffrey with them. And he set Goldilind on her horse himself, and knelt before her to say farewell, and therewith was Christopher on his horse, and him the Earl saluted debonairly.
But just as they were about shaking their reins to depart, Aloyse fell down on her knees before the Earl, who said: “What is toward, woman?”
“A grace, my Lord, a grace,” said she.
“Stand up on thy feet,” said the Earl, “and ye, my masters, draw out of earshot.”
Even so did they; and the Earl bade her speak, and she said: “Lord, my Lady is going away from Greenharbour, and anon thou wilt be going, and I shall be left with the sleek she-devil yonder that thou hast set over us, and here there will be hell for me without escape, now that my Lady is gone. Wherefore I pray thee take me with thee to Meadhamstead, even if it be to prison; for here I shall die the worst of deaths.”
Earl Geoffrey smiled on her sourly, and said: “If it be as I understand, that thou hast lifted thine hand against my Lady, wert thou wending with me, thou shouldst go just so far as the first tree. Thou mayst deem thyself lucky if I leave thee behind here. Nor needest thou trouble thee concerning Dame Elinor; little more shalt thou hear of her henceforward.”
But Goldilind spake and said: “My Lord Earl, I would ask grace for this one; for what she did to me she did compelled, and not of her free will, and I forgive it her. And moreover, this last time she suffered in her body for the helping of me; so if thou mightest do her asking I were the better pleased.”
“It shall be as thou wilt, my Lady,” said the Earl, “and I will have her with me and keep her quiet in Meadhamstead; but, by Allhallows! had it not been for thy word we would have had her whipped into the wild-wood, and hanged up on to a tree thereafter.”
Then Aloyse knelt before Goldilind and kissed her feet, and wept, and drew back pale and trembling. But Goldilind shook her rein once for all now, and her apple-grey horse went forth with her; Christopher came after, leading the sumpter beast, and forth they went, and passed over the open green about the Castle, and came on to the woodland way whereby Goldilind had fled that other time.
CHAPTER XXII. OF THE WOODLAND BRIDE-CHAMBER.
They rode in silence a good way, and it was some three hours after noon, and the day as fair and bright as might be. Christopher held his peace for sweet shame that he was alone with a most fair maid, and she his own, and without defence against him. But she amidst of her silence turned, now red, and now somewhat pale, and now and again she looked somewhat askance on him, and he deemed her looks were no kinder than they should be.
At last she spake, yet not looking on him, and said: “So, Forester, now is done what I must needs do: thy life is saved, and I am quit of Greenharbour, and its prison, and its torments: whither away then?”
Quoth he, all dismayed, for her voice was the voice of anger: “I wot not whither, save to the house thou hast blessed already with thy dear body.”
At that word she turned quite pale, and trembled, and spake not for a while, and smote her horse and hastened on the way, and he after her; but when he was come up with her again, then she said, still not looking at him: “A house of woodmen and wolf-heads. Is that a meet dwelling-place for me? Didst thou hear men at Greenharbour say that I am a Queen?”
“Hear them I did,” quoth he; “but meseemeth nought like a Queen had they done with thee.”
She said: “And dost thou mock me with that? thou?” And she burst out weeping. He answered not, for sore grief smote him, remembering her hand in his but a little while ago. And again she hurried on, and he followed her.
