Part 9 (1/2)
Then Wulf, feeling that Rosamund was watching his face beneath the shadow of her long eyelashes, answered:
”Before Heaven, I am content also, for whatever may be said against it, now at least there will be two years of war in which one or both of us well may fall, and for that while at least no woman can come between our brotherhood. Uncle, I crave your leave to go serve my liege in Normandy.”
”And I also,” said G.o.dwin.
”In the spring; in the spring,” replied Sir Andrew hastily; ”when King Henry moves his power. Meanwhile, bide you here in all good fellows.h.i.+p, for, who knows--much may happen between now and then, and perhaps your strong arms will be needed as they were not long ago. Moreover, I look to all three of you to hear no more of this talk of love and marriage, which, in truth, disturbs my mind and house. For good or ill, the matter is now settled for two years to come, by which time it is likely I shall be in my grave and beyond all troubling.
”I do not say that things have gone altogether as I could have wished, but they are as Rosamund wishes, and that is enough for me. On which of you she looks with the more favour I do not know, and be you content to remain in ignorance of what a father does not think it wise to seek to learn. A maid's heart is her own, and her future lies in the hand of G.o.d and His saints, where let it bide, say I. Now we have done with all this business.
Rosamund, dismiss your knights, and be you all three brothers and sister once more till this time two years, when those who live will find an answer to the riddle.”
So Rosamund came forward, and without a word gave her right hand to G.o.dwin and her left to Wulf, and suffered that they should press their lips upon them. So for a while this was the end of their asking of her in marriage.
The brethren left the solar side by side as they had come into it, but changed men in a sense, for now their lives were afire with a great purpose, which bade them dare and do and win. Yet they were lighter-hearted than when they entered there, since at least neither had been scorned, while both had hope, and all the future, which the young so seldom fear, lay before them.
As they descended the steps their eyes fell upon the figure of a tall man clad in a pilgrim's cape, hood and low-crowned hat, of which the front was bent upwards and laced, who carried in his hand a palmer's staff, and about his waist the scrip and water-bottle.
”What do you seek, holy palmer?” asked G.o.dwin, coming towards him. ”A night's lodging in my uncle's house?”
The man bowed; then, fixing on him a pair of beadlike brown eyes, which reminded G.o.dwin of some he had seen, he knew not when or where, answered in the humble voice affected by his cla.s.s:
”Even so, most n.o.ble knight. Shelter for man and beast, for my mule is held without. Also--a word with the lord, Sir Andrew D'Arcy, for whom I have a message.”
”A mule?” said Wulf. ”I thought that palmers always went afoot?”
”True, Sir Knight; but, as it chances, I have baggage. Nay, not my own, whose earthly gear is all upon my back--but a chest, that contains I know not what, which I am charged to deliver to Sir Andrew D'Arcy, the owner of this hall, or should he be dead, then to the lady Rosamund, his daughter.”
”Charged? By whom?” asked Wulf.
”That, sir,” said the palmer, bowing, ”I will tell to Sir Andrew, who, I understand, still lives. Have I your leave to bring in the chest, and if so, will one of your servants help me, for it is heavy?”
”We will help you,” said G.o.dwin. And they went with him into the courtyard, where by the scant light of the stars they saw a fine mule in charge of one of the serving men, and bound upon its back a long-shaped package sewn over with sacking. This the palmer unloosed, and taking one end, while Wulf, after bidding the man stable the mule, took the other, they bore it into the hall, G.o.dwin going before them to summon his uncle. Presently he came and the palmer bowed to him.
”What is your name, palmer, and whence is this box?” asked the old knight, looking at him keenly.
”My name, Sir Andrew, is Nicholas of Salisbury, and as to who sent me, with your leave I will whisper in your ear.” And, leaning forward, he did so.
Sir Andrew heard and staggered back as though a dart had pierced him.
”What?” he said. ”Are you, a holy palmer, the messenger of--” and he stopped suddenly.
”I was his prisoner,” answered the man, ”and he--who at least ever keeps his word--gave me my life--for I had been condemned to die--at the price that I brought this to you, and took back your answer, or hers, which I have sworn to do.”
”Answer? To what?”
”Nay, I know nothing save that there is a writing in the chest.
Its purport I am not told, who am but a messenger bound by oath to do certain things. Open the chest, lord, and meanwhile, if you have food, I have travelled far and fast.”
Sir Andrew went to a door, and called to his men-servants, whom he bade give meat to the palmer and stay with him while he ate.
Then he told G.o.dwin and Wulf to lift the box and bring it to the solar, and with it hammer and chisel, in case they should be needed, which they did, setting it upon the oaken table.