They beat down the prison door and brought forth Gersonde. There was in the market a long shed where faggots were sold. Near the cross, rising from a mound of hardened earth, stood a column of stone to which at times offenders were bound. They brought a chain from the prison and chained the soothsayer to this. Then men and women ran to bring the bundles of faggots. There were enough of these to make a great pyre.
In the distance, down the street that led from the gate, began the music of a viol, a tune rich and sweet, well played. The market-place, given now to the frenzy of the frightened lower nature, paid it no heed; there was but one there who gave it heed and that was the bound soothsayer.
The music came nearer, but it did not come fast; it grew fuller and louder by littles. The music-maker came leisurely, not knowing that the wrong in the world was more immediate to-day than it had been yesterday. He walked, playing, revolving in his mind ways to find Gersonde. He played because he thought that if she were in this town that was a way to draw her. In the market-place they struck a torch among the faggots.
Gerbert came, playing, up the gate street toward the market-place. The street was empty of folk; he must go, playing, to the market-place. He played old folk-music, old airs that Bageron might have played. Then he played a new air, making it as he played, and it had in it music of the earth and air, and the leap of fire and the flow of light and the dance of thought and the spread of the soul. So, after a while, he came to the market-place.
“What are all the people doing?”
“They are burning a sorceress who said the End of the World is not yet!”
The bow still touched the viol strings, the hand working on though the head said nought. Then within the market-place the head spoke and the hand dropped. Gerbert came to the pyre by the cross and saw that there was an end. As the strings of the viol drawn too tightly might snap, so snapped the cords of his heart. The throng, now silent, listening to the bells from the standing tower of the church, saw only that a musician fell dead, his hands closed upon the ashes of that pyre. The bells rang and rang. A monk, standing upon the steps of the market cross, began to preach. “The World Ends—The World Ends! In Eden Garden the woman leagued herself with Sin, that old serpent! Then did she tempt our father Adam who fell. Then came Death and Evil. Then was planted the vine of the World’s ending, whose grapes are ripe to-day.”
CHAPTER XVI
MOONLIGHT
The moon shone full and splendid, silvering the garden. The garden was formal, paved paths outlining and enclosing flower beds geometrically shaped—squares, circles, and triangles. But the riot of flowers overslipped the edges. Flowers bloomed in multitude and made an ocean of perfume. Perpetually there was sound of water, sliding and falling water. It ran in narrow channels, and slept in a pool lined with marble, and fell from stair to stair in a cascade formed by art. Black cypress trees stood up like spires, on such a night silver spires, fairy spires. The garden belonged to a castle palace that with huge stone arms clipped it on three sides. The fourth saw cliffs and the sea, the sea like one smooth shield of silver. The moon shone so bright that it put out all but the larger stars. In the garden, in the trees, sang the nightingales.
Through a low, arched doorway came into the garden a man and a woman. “O the moon, the moonlight! O the nightingales!” They took the path that outlined a square of flowers. Followed them through the doorway a second couple—man and woman. “O the moon! Smell the orange trees!” They went the path by the orange trees. A third pair came forth—man and woman. “The moon on the sea! Hear the nightingales!” They paced around the circle of roses. A fourth pair followed—a fifth—a sixth—a seventh—an eighth. It seemed an Embarkment for Cythera. Here were ladies and their knights—here were knights and ladies. Amaury and Adelaide—Balthasar and Bérengère—Barral and Constance—Guibour and Mélisande—Roland and Blanche—Thierry and Laure—Aldhelm and Eleanor—Raimbauld and Tiphaine.