Part 74 (1/2)
Then Tall Orson shook aloft his battered pike and shouted amain, and on the instant, others took up the cry--a hoa.r.s.e roar that rolled from rank to rank; lance and sword, axe and pike were flourished high in air, and from these men who had marched so grimly silent all the day a great and mighty shout went up:
”Arise, Pentavalon! Ha! Beltane--Pentavalon!” Now even as they shouted, upon this thunderous roar there stole another sound, high and clear and very sweet, that rose and swelled upon the air like the voices of quiring angels; and of a sudden the shouting was hushed, as, forth of the tower's gloomy portal the lady Abbess came, tall and fair and saintly in her white habit, her nuns behind her, two and two, their hands clasped, their eyes upraised to heaven, chanting to G.o.d a hymn of praise and thanksgiving. Slow paced they thus, the stately Abbess with head low-bended and slim hands clasped upon her silver crucifix until, the chant being ended, she raised her head and beheld straightway Sir Benedict unhelmed and yet astride his great charger. The silver crucifix fell, the slim hands clasped themselves upon her bosom and the eyes of the tall, white Abbess grew suddenly wide and dark: and even as she gazed on him, so gazed Sir Benedict on her.
”Yolande!” said he, hoa.r.s.e-voiced and low.
”Benedict!” she murmured.
Slowly Sir Benedict bowed his head, and turning, laid his hand on Beltane's mailed shoulder.
”Lady,” said he, ”behold here Beltane--that is son to Beltane heretofore Duke and Lord of Pentavalon!”
”Ah!” she whispered, ”Beltane!” and of a sudden stretched out her arms in pa.s.sionate yearning gesture, then, covering her face, sank upon her knees, ”G.o.d pity me!” she sighed, ”G.o.d pity me!” Thereafter she rose to her stately height and looked on Beltane, gentle and calm-eyed.
”My lord Beltane,” said she, ”I have heard tell thou art a n.o.ble knight, strong yet gentle--so should thy father be greatly blessed in thee--and thy--mother also. G.o.d have thee ever in His keeping-- Beltane!”
Now as she spake the name her soft voice brake, and turning, she stood with head bowed upon her hands, and standing thus, spake again, deep-voiced and soft:
”Sir Benedict, we are come to minister to the hurt, all is prepared within the tower, let them be brought to us I pray, and--my lord, forget not the sacred oath thou didst swear me--long years agone!”
CHAPTER LVIII
HOW BELTANE HAD SPEECH WITH THE ABBESS
They found rich booty in Pertolepe's camp, with store of arms and armour and many goodly horses, and thither Sir Benedict's wearied followers betook them as night fell and knew blessed rest and sleep.
But in the tower of Brand lights gleamed where the Abbess and her gentle nuns went to and fro among the wounded, ministering to their wants; and far beyond the camp, armour glinted ever and anon against the blackness of the surrounding woods, where outpost and sentinel kept vigilant watch and ward. Though late the hour Beltane sat wakeful, chin on fist, beside a glimmering watch-fire, oft turning his glance towards the ma.s.sy, weather-beaten tower, bethinking him of the n.o.ble lady Abbess, of her strange looks and words, and so fell to brooding thought. High overhead the moon rode, obscured by flying clouds, a wild wrack up-whirling from the south: at fitful intervals was a wind that moaned drearily 'mid the gloom of distant woods, a desolate sound that sobbed upon the air, and dying to a wail, was gone. Now becoming aware of this, Beltane raised his head, and looked up at the ominous heavens and round about him. And thus he espied a light that hovered hither and thither above the distant battle-field, a small light whose red flame flashed back from cloven casque and riven s.h.i.+eld, where eyes glared unseeing and mouths gaped mute and dumb from a dark confusion whence mailed arms stiffly rose with hands tight-clenched that seemed to menace heaven, and rigid feet whose spurred heels yet gored the flanks of rigid, fallen chargers; to and fro and up and down this small flame leaped merrily, dancing from dead face to dead face but staying never, a fiendish fire that seemed to mock the horror of wounds and gibe at solemn death.
Now as he watched this devilish light, Beltane arose and reaching for his sword went soft-footed to meet it, then paused, for the light was moving towards him. Near and nearer it came, until, into the glow of the fire, his betousled head wild and bare, his link-mail yet befouled with battle, Walkyn strode, and hurling his torch upon the gra.s.s, crushed it out 'neath his heel. Then came he to the fire and stood there, arms crossed, frowning down at the flame.
”Greeting to thee, Waldron of Brand!”
Swift turned Walkyn, his gloomy scowl relaxed at Beltane's voice, and stooping, he took and kissed my Beltane's hand.
”Whence come ye, Walkyn?”
”From going to and fro among the dead, seeking Pertolepe, master. Ha!
they do lie thick yonder, five hundred and twenty and three I counted of b.l.o.o.d.y Pertolepe's following. And in the woods do lie certain others, that I, with divers of our company, pursued and cut off.”
”And what of their wounded?”
”I saw none, master--nor have I seen Pertolepe. I have viewed all the slain, but Pertolepe is not there, yet have I smitten and slain three Pertolepes this day--hawks, see you, in eagle's feathers! So is my work yet to do, and I grieve still for Pertolepe's head.”
”Sit ye down, Walkyn, here with me beside the fire.” Forthwith Walkyn obeyed and stretching himself on the gra.s.s fell to toying with the haft of his axe and scowling at the fire again.
”This was, methinks, thy father's tower and demesne of Brand, Walkyn?”
”Aye, lord, here was I born--yon ruined walls did hear my father's groans--the screams of my mother and sister amid the flame. And Red Pertolepe was there, and Gui of Allerdale and Roger and young Gilles of Brandonmere--all were there with six other n.o.ble knights; but these six we slew long since, my brother and I. All these were here that day--and Sir Pertolepe--laughed--full loud, 'twas told me. So 'twere just he should have died here to-day, methinks? 'Twas for this I lured him hither--and he liveth yet!”
”But G.o.d is a just G.o.d, Walkyn! Now therefore leave him to G.o.d henceforth--!”