Volume I Part 12 (1/2)
”Thou hast been here ofttimes o' nights?” carelessly inquired the other.
”I have, upon some chance occasion it may be; but since that ugly noise got wind, to which my own ears bear testimony, I was not over-curious to pa.s.s within hearing, though it were only the rogues, some said, that were mulcting the flour-sacks.”
”But thou knowest there was a hint dropped a while ago at the hostel, that the maiden, whom thou hast now forgotten, methinks, had some connection with this marvellous tale of thine; and now, it seems, I am to believe 'tis but the knaves or the rats purloining the prior's corn!
Hark thee, friend,” said De Poininges, in a stern tone, ”no more evasion: no turn or equivocation shall serve thee: out with it, and lead on, or”--
A bright flash from his falchion here revealed the peril that he threatened.
”_Miserere mei_--Oh,--_Salve et!_”--
”Silence, knave, and pa.s.s quickly; but remember, if I catch thee devising any sleight or shuffle, this sharp point shall quicken thee to thy work. It may prove mighty efficacious, too, as a restorative for a lapsed memory.”
”I'll tell thee all!--but--hold that weapon a little back, I prithee.
Nay--nay, thou wouldest not compa.s.s a poor man's death in such haste.”
”Lead on, then, but be discreet,” said De Poininges, softly, at the same time pus.h.i.+ng him forward at his sword's point.
”Here is some help to mine errand, or my craft fails me this bout.”
After many qualms and wry faces, De Poininges, by piecemeal, acquired the following intelligence:--
One night, this honest clerk being with a friend on a predatory excursion to the prior's storehouse, they heard a m.u.f.fled shriek and a sharp scuffle at some distance. Being outside the building, and fearing detection, they ran to hide themselves under a detached shed, used as a depository for firewood and stray lumber. Towards this spot, however, the other parties were evidently approaching. Presently three or four men, whom they judged to be the prior's servants, came nigh, bearing a female. They entered into the shed, and proceeded to remove a large heap of turf. Underneath seemed to be one of those subterraneous communications generally contrived as a retreat in times of peril; at any rate, they disappeared through the opening, and the clerk and his worthy a.s.sociate effected their escape un.o.bserved.
Fear of detection, and of the terrible retribution that would follow, hitherto kept the secret undivulged. There could be little doubt that this female was Margaret de la Bech; and her person, whether living or dead, had become a victim to the well-known lawless disposition of the prior.
They were now at the entrance to a low gateway, from which a short path to the left led them directly towards the spot. Entering the shed, they commenced a diligent search; but the terror and confusion of the clerk had prevented such accuracy of observation as could enable him to discover the opening, which they in vain attempted to find, groping their way suspiciously in the dark.
”Softly, softly!” said the clerk, listening. A low murmur came from the opposite corner, like the muttering of one holding audible communion with his own spirit. De Poininges listened too, and he fancied it was a female voice. Presently he heard one of those wild and uncouth ditties, a sort of chant or monotonous song, which, to the terrified psalm-singer, sounded like the death-wail of some unfortunate ghost.
The following words only became sufficiently distinct:--
”The sunbeam came on a billow of flame, But its light, like thine, is done: Life's tangled coil, with all its toil, Is broken ere 'tis run.
”The kite may love the timid dove, The hawk be the raven's guest; But none shall dare that hawk to scare From his dark and cloud-wreathed nest!
”Wail on, ye fond maidens, Death lurks in the cloud; The storm and the billow Are weaving a shroud:
”There's a wail on the wind; Ere its track on the main, A light shall be quenched, Ne'er to kindle again!”
”Surely I have heard that voice aforetime,” thought De Poininges. It was too peculiar for him to mistake. The woman had loitered in his path a few hours before. It seemed her brain was somewhat disturbed: a wanderer and an outcast in consequence, she had here taken shelter ofttimes for the night. He determined to accost her; a feeling of deference prompted him, a superst.i.tious notion, arising from an idea then prevalent, that a superior light was granted to those individuals in whom the light of reason was extinct. He approached with caution, much to the terror and distress of his companion.
”It is crazy Isabel,” said he, ”and the dark spirit is upon her!” But De Poininges was not in a mood to feel scared with this intimation. The way was intricate, and he stumbled over a heap of dried fuel. The noise seemed to arrest her attention for a moment; but she again commenced her song, paying little heed to this interruption. On recovering his position, he was about to speak, when, to his great surprise, she thus accosted him:--
”I have tarried long for thee. Haste--equip for the battle,--and then,
”'My merry men all, Round the greenwood tree, How gallant to ride With a gay ladye.'
”I am crazed, belike. Good wot; but I can ride o'er the neck of a proud prior.
”'And the moon shone clear In the blue heavens, where The stars twinkle through her veil of light:-- There they gave me a merry shooting star, And I rolled round the wain with my golden car, But I leapt on the lightning's flash, beside The queen of this murky night!'”