“Beseech thee!” she cried, “Oh, beseech thee, take thy breath.”
“Gramercy, 'tis done, lady, 'tis done, and now forthwith resolved am I to sing thee—”
“Nay, I pray you, sir, sing no more, but resolve me this mystery. What is love?”
“Love, lady? Verily that will I in truth!” And herewith Sir Palamon fell to an attitude of thought with eyes ecstatic, with knitted brows and sage nodding of the head. “Love, my lady—ha! Love, lady is—hum! Love, then, perceive me, is of its nature elemental, being of the elements, as 'twere, composed and composite, as water, air and fire. For, remark me, there is no love but begetteth first water, which is tears; air, which is sighings and groanings; and fire, which is heart-burnings and the like. Thus is love a passion elemental. But yet, and heed me, lady, love is also metaphysical, being a motition of the soul and e'en the spirit, and being of the spirit 'tis ghostly, and being ghostly 'tis—ha! Who comes hither to shatter the placid mirror of my thoughts?”
So saying, the noble knight of Tong turned to behold one who strode towards them in haste, a tall man this whose black brows scowled fierce upon the day, and who spurned the tender flowers with foot ungentle as he came.
A tall, broad-shouldered, haughty lord was he,
With chin full square and eyes of mastery,
At sight of whom, Yolanda's laughter failed,
And in her cheek the rosy colour paled.
Quoth he: “Sir Palamon, now of thy grace,
And of thy courteous friendship yield me place,
To this fair lady I a word would say.
Thus do I for thy courteous-absence pray,
I am thy friend, Sir Knight, as thou dost know,
But—”
“My lord,” quoth Sir Palamon, “I go—
Friendship methinks is a most holy bond,
A bond I hold all binding bonds beyond,
And thou 'rt a friend right potent, my lord Gui,
So to thy will I willingly comply.
Thus, since thy friendship I hold passing dear,
Thou need but ask—and lo! I am not here.”
Thus having said, low bowed this courtly knight,
Then turned about and hasted out of sight.
“And now, my lady,” quoth Sir Gui, frowning upon her loveliness, “and now having discharged yon gaudy wind-bag, what of this letter I did receive but now—behold it!” and speaking, he snatched a crumpled missive from his bosom. “Behold it, I say!”
“Indeed, my lord, I do,” she answered, proud and disdainful; “it is, methinks, my answer to thy loathèd suit—”
“Loathèd!” he cried, and caught her slender wrist,
And held it so, crushed in his cruel fist;
But proud she faced him, shapely head raised high.
“Most loathèd, my lord!” she, scornful, made reply.
“For rather than I'd wed myself with thee,
The wife of poorest, humblest slave I'd be,
Or sorriest fool that tramps the dusty way—”
“Ha! Dare thou scorn me so?” Sir Gui did say,
“Then I by force—by force will sudden take thee,
And slave of love, my very slave I 'll make thee—”
Out from the leaves Duke Joc'lyn thrust his head,
“O fie! Thou naughty, knavish knight!” he said.
“O tush! O tush! O tush again—go to!
'T is windy, whining, wanton way to woo.
What tushful talk is this of 'force' and 'slaves',
Thou naughty, knavish, knightly knave of knaves?
Unhand the maid—loose thy offensive paw!”
Round sprang Sir Gui, and, all astonished, saw
A long-legged jester who behind him stood
With head out-thrust, grim-smiling 'neath his hood.
“Plague take thee, Fool! Out o' my sight!” growled he,
“Or cropped thine ugly nose and ears shall be.
Begone, base rogue! Haste, dog, and get thee hence,
Thy folly pleadeth this thy Fool's offence—
Yet go, or of thy motley shalt be stripped,
And from the town I 'll have thee shrewdly whipped,
For Lord of Ells and Raddemore am I,
Though folk, I've heard, do call me 'Red Sir Gui,'
Since blood is red and—I am Gui the Red.”
“Red Gui?” quoth Joc'lyn. “Art thou Gui the dread—
Red Gui—in faith? Of him Dame Rumour saith,
His ways be vile but viler still—his breath.
Now though a life vile lived is thing most ill,
Yet some do think a vile breath viler still.”
Swift, swift as lightning from a summer sky,
Out flashed the vengeful dagger of Sir Gui,
And darting with a deadly stroke and fierce,
Did Joc'lyn's motley habit rend and pierce,
Whereat with fearful cry up sprang Yolande,
But this strange jester did grim-smiling stand.
Quoth he: “Messire, a fool in very truth,
The fool of foolish fools he'd be, in sooth,
Who'd play a quip or so, my lord, with thee
Unless in triple armour dight were he;
And so it is this jester doth not fail
With such as thou to jest in shirt of mail.
Now since my heart thy foolish point hath missed
Thy dagger—thus I answer—with my fist!”
Then swift he leapt and, even as he spoke,
He fetched the knight so fierce and fell a stroke
That, reeling, on the greensward sank Sir Gui,
And stared, wide-eyed, unseeing, at the sky.
Right firmly then upon his knightly breast
Duke Joc'lyn's worn and dusty shoe did rest,
And while Yolande stood white and dumb with fear,
Thus sang the Duke full blithely and full clear:
“Dirt thou art since thou art dust,
And shalt to dust return;
Meanwhile Folly as he lust
Now thy base dust doth spurn.
“Yea, lord, though thy rank be high,
One day, since e'en lords must die,
Under all men's feet thou'lt lie.”
Now, fierce, Sir Gui did curse the Fool amain,
And, cursing, strove his dagger to regain.
But Joc'lyn stooped, in mighty arms he swung him,
And down into the lily-pool he flung him.
With splash resounding fell the noble knight,
Then gurgling rose in damp and sorry plight,
Whiles Joc'lyn, leaning o'er the marble rim,
With lifted finger thus admonished him:
“Red Gui,
Dread Gui,
Lest a dead Gui,
Gui, I make of thee,
Understand, Gui,
Fair Yolande, Gui,
Humbly wooed must be.
“So, Gui,
Know, Gui,
Ere thou go, Gui,
Gui they call the Red;
And thou'lt woo, Gui,
Humbly sue, Gui,
Lest Love strike thee dead.
“Now while thou flound'rest in yon pool,
Learn thou this wisdom of a Fool;
Cold water oft can passion cool
And fiery ardours slake;
Thus, sir, since water quencheth fire,
So let it soothe away thine ire.
Then—go seek thee garments drier
Lest a rheum thou take.”
Sir Gui did gasp, and gasping, strove to curse,
Whereat he, gasping, did but gasp the worse,
Till, finding he could gasp, but nothing say,
He shook clenched fist and, gasping, strode away.
Then Joc'lyn turned and thus beheld Yolande,
Who trembling all and pale of cheek did stand.
“O Fool!” she sighed. “Poor Fool, what hast
thou done?”
Quoth he: “Yolande, to woo thee I've begun,
I better might have wooed, it is most true,
If other wooers had not wooed thee too.”
“Nay, Fool!” she whispered. “O beware—beware!
Death—death for thee is in the very air.
From Canalise, in haste, I bid thee fly,
For 'vengeful lord and cruel is Sir Gui.
Take now this gold to aid thee on thy way,
And for thy life upon my knees I'll pray,
And with the holy angels intercede
To comfort thee and aid thee in thy need.
And so—farewell! “Thus, speaking, turned Yolande.
But Joc'lyn stayed her there with gentle hand,
Whereat she viewed him o'er in mute surprise,
To see the radiant gladness of his eyes.
Quoth he: “Yolande, since thou wilt pray for me,
Of thy sweet prayers fain would I worthy be.
This I do know—let Death come when he may,
The love I bear thee shall live on alway.
Nor will I strive to leave grim Death behind me,
Since when Death wills methinks he sure will find me;
As in the world Death roameth everywhere,
Who flees him here perchance shall meet him there.
Here, then, I'll bide—let what so will betide me,
Thy prayers like holy angels, watch beside me.
So all day long and in thy pretty sleeping
'Till next we meet the Saints have thee in keeping.”
My daughter GILLIAN animadverteth:
GILL: The last part seems to me much better.
I like Yolande, I hope he'll get her.
MYSELF: Patience, my dear, he's hardly met her.
GILL: I think it would be rather nice
To make him kiss her once or twice.
MYSELF: I'll make him kiss her well, my dear,
When he begins—but not just here.
I'll later see what I can do
In this matter to please you.
GILL: And then I hope, that by and by
He kills that frightful beast, Sir Gui.
MYSELF: Yes, I suppose, we ought to slay him,
For all his wickedness to pay him.
GILL: And Pertinax, I think—don't you?
Should have a lady fair to woo.
To see him in love would be perfectly clipping.
It's a corking idea, and quite awfully ripping—
MYSELF: If you use such vile slang, miss, I vow I will not—
GILL: O, Pax, father! I'm sorry; I almost forgot.
MYSELF: Very well, if my warning you'll bear well
in mind,
A fair damsel for Pertinax I 'll try to find.
GILL: Then make her, father, make her quick,
I always knew you were a brick.