The Tale of Balen Part 4

And as by noon's large light the twain Before the tented hall drew rein, Suddenly fell the strange knight, slain By one that came and went again And none might see him; but his spear Clove through the body, swift as fire, The man whose doom, forefelt as dire, Had darkened all his life's desire, As one that death held dear.

And dying he turned his face and said, "Lo now thy warrant that my head Should fall not, following forth where led A knight whose pledge hath left me dead.

This darkling manslayer hath to name Garlon: take thou my goodlier steed, Seeing thine is less of strength and speed, And ride, if thou be knight indeed, Even thither whence we came.

"And as the maiden's fair behest Shall bid you follow on my quest, Follow: and when G.o.d's will sees best, Revenge my death, and let me rest As one that lived and died a knight, Unstained of shame alive or dead."

And Balen, wrung with sorrow, said, "That shall I do: my hand and head I pledge to do you right."

And thence with sorrowing heart and cheer He rode, in grief that cast out fear Lest death in darkness yet were near, And bore the truncheon of the spear Wherewith the woful knight lay slain To her with whom he rode, and she Still bare it with her, fain to see What righteous doom of G.o.d's might be The darkling manslayer's bane.

And down a dim deep woodland way They rode between the boughs asway With flickering winds whose flash and play Made sunlight sunnier where the day Laughed, leapt, and fluttered like a bird Caught in a light loose leafy net That earth for amorous heaven had set To hold and see the sundawn yet And hear what morning heard.

There in the sweet soft s.h.i.+fting light Across their pa.s.sage rode a knight Flushed hot from hunting as from fight, And seeing the sorrow-stricken sight Made question of them why they rode As mourners sick at heart and sad, When all alive about them bade Sweet earth for heaven's sweet sake be glad As heaven for earth's love glowed.

"Me lists not tell you," Balen said.

The strange knight's face grew keen and red "Now, might my hand but keep my head, Even here should one of twain lie dead Were he no better armed than I."

And Balen spake with smiling speed, Where scorn and courtesy kept heed Of either: "That should little need: Not here shall either die."

And all the cause he told him through As one that feared not though he knew All: and the strange knight spake anew, Saying: "I will part no more from you While life shall last me." So they went Where he might arm himself to ride, And rode across wild ways and wide To where against a churchyard side A hermit's harbour leant.

And there against them riding came Fleet as the lightning's laugh and flame The invisible evil, even the same They sought and might not curse by name As h.e.l.l's foul child on earth set free, And smote the strange knight through, and fled, And left the mourners by the dead.

"Alas, again," Sir Balen said, "This wrong he hath done to me."

And there they laid their dead to sleep Royally, lying where wild winds keep Keen watch and wail more soft and deep Than where men's choirs bid music weep And song like incense heave and swell.

And forth again they rode, and found Before them, dire in sight and sound, A castle girt about and bound With sorrow like a spell.

Above it seemed the sun at noon Sad as a wintry withering moon That shudders while the waste wind's tune Craves ever none may guess what boon, But all may know the boon for dire.

And evening on its darkness fell More dark than very death's farewell, And night about it hung like h.e.l.l, Whose fume the dawn made fire.

And Balen lighted down and pa.s.sed Within the gateway, whence no blast Rang as the sheer portcullis, cast Suddenly down, fell, and made fast The gate behind him, whence he spied A sudden rage of men without And ravin of a murderous rout That girt the maiden hard about With death on either side.

And seeing that shame and peril, fear Bade wrath and grief awake and hear What shame should say in fame's wide ear If she, by sorrow sealed more dear Than joy might make her, so should die: And up the tower's curled stair he sprang As one that flies death's deadliest fang, And leapt right out amid their gang As fire from heaven on high.

And they thereunder seeing the knight Unhurt among their press alight And bare his sword for chance of fight Stood from him, loth to strive or smite, And bade him hear their woful word, That not the maiden's death they sought; But there through years too dire for thought Had lain their lady stricken, and nought Might heal her: and he heard.

For there a maiden clean and whole In virgin body and virgin soul, Whose name was writ on royal roll, That would but stain a silver bowl With offering of her stainless blood, Therewith might heal her: so they stayed For hope's sad sake each blameless maid There journeying in that dolorous shade Whose bloom was bright in bud.

No hurt nor harm to her it were If she should yield a sister there Some tribute of her blood, and fare Forth with this joy at heart to bear, That all unhurt and unafraid This grace she had here by G.o.d's grace wrought.

And kindling all with kindly thought And love that saw save love's self nought, Shone, smiled, and spake the maid.

"Good knight of mine, good will have I To help this healing though I die."

"Nay," Balen said, "but love may try What help in living love may lie.

-I will not lose the life of her While my life lasteth." So she gave The tribute love was fain to crave, But might not heal though fain to save, Were G.o.d's grace helpfuller.

Another maid in later Mays Won with her life that woful praise, And died. But they, when surging day's Deep tide fulfilled the dawn's wide ways, Rode forth, and found by day or night No chance to cross their wayfaring Till when they saw the fourth day spring A knight's hall gave them harbouring Rich as a king's house might.

And while they sat at meat and spake Words bright and kind as grace might make Sweet for true knighthood's kindly sake, They heard a cry beside them break The still-souled joy of blameless rest.

"What noise is this?" quoth Balen. "Nay,"

His knightly host made answer, "may Our grief not grieve you though I say How here I dwell unblest.

"Not many a day has lived and died Since at a tournay late I tried My strength to smite and turn and ride Against a knight of kinglike pride, King Pellam's brother: twice I smote The splendour of his strength to dust: And he, fulfilled of hate's fierce l.u.s.t, Swore vengeance, pledged for h.e.l.l to trust, And keen as h.e.l.l's wide throat.

"Invisible as the spirit of night That heaven and earth in depth and height May see not by the mild moon's light Nor even when stars would grant them sight, He walks and slays as plague's blind breath Slays: and my son, whose anguish here Makes moan perforce that mars our cheer, He wounded, even ere love might fear That hate were strong as death.

"Nor may my son be whole till he Whose stroke through him hath stricken me Shall give again his blood to be Our healing: yet may no man see This felon, clothed with darkness round And keen as lightning's life." Thereon Spake Balen, and his presence shone Even as the sun's when stars are gone That hear dawn's trumpet sound.

"That knight I know: two knights of mine, Two comrades, sealed by faith's bright sign, Whose eyes as ours that live should s.h.i.+ne, And drink the golden sunlight's wine With joy's thanksgiving that they live, He hath slain in even the same blind wise: Were all wide wealth beneath the skies Mine, might I meet him, eyes on eyes, All would I laugh to give."

His host made answer, and his gaze Grew bright with trust as dawn's moist maze With fire: "Within these twenty days, King Pellam, lord of Lystenayse, Holds feast through all this country cried, And there before the knightly king May no knight come except he bring For witness of his wayfaring His paramour or bride.

"And there that day, so soon to s.h.i.+ne, This knight, your felon foe and mine, Shall show, full-flushed with bloodred wine, The fierce false face whereon we pine To wreak the wrong he hath wrought us, bare As shame should see and brand it." "Then,"

Said Balen, "shall he give again His blood to heal your son, and men Shall see death blind him there."

"Forth will we fare to-morrow," said His host: and forth, as sunrise led, They rode; and fifteen days were fled Ere toward their goal their steeds had sped.

And there alighting might they find For Balen's host no place to rest, Who came without a gentler guest Beside him: and that household's hest Bade leave his sword behind.

"Nay," Balen said, "that do I not: My country's custom stands, G.o.d wot, That none whose lot is knighthood's lot, To ride where chance as fire is hot With hope or promise given of fight, Shall fail to keep, for knighthood's part, His weapon with him as his heart; And as I came will I depart, Or hold herein my right."

Then gat he leave to wear his sword Beside the strange king's festal board Where feasted many a knight and lord In seemliness of fair accord: And Balen asked of one beside, "Is there not in this court, if fame Keep faith, a knight that hath to name Garlon?" and saying that word of shame, He scanned that place of pride.

"Yonder he goeth against the light, He with the face as swart as night,"

Quoth the other: "but he rides to fight Hid round by charms from all men's sight, And many a n.o.ble knight he hath slain, Being wrapt in darkness deep as h.e.l.l And silence dark as shame." "Ah, well,"

Said Balen, "is that he? the spell May be the sorcerer's bane."

Then Balen gazed upon him long, And thought, "If here I wreak my wrong, Alive I may not scape, so strong The felon's friends about him throng; And if I leave him here alive, This chance perchance may life not give Again: much evil, if he live, He needs must do, should fear forgive When wrongs bid strike and strive."

And Garlon, seeing how Balen's eye Dwelt on him as his heart waxed high With joy in wrath to see him nigh, Rose wolf-like with a wolfish cry And crossed and smote him on the face, Saying, "Knight, what wouldst thou with me? Eat, For shame, and gaze not: eat thy meat Do that thou art come for: stands thy seat Next ours of royal race?"

"Well hast thou said: thy rede rings true; That which I came for will I do,"

Quoth Balen: forth his fleet sword flew, And clove the head of Garlon through Clean to the shoulders. Then he cried Loud to his lady, "Give me here The truncheon of the shameful spear Wherewith he slew your knight, when fear Bade hate in darkness ride."

And gladly, bright with grief made glad, She gave the truncheon as he bade, For still she bare it with her, sad And strong in hopeless hope she had, Through all dark days of thwarting fear, To see if doom should fall aright And as G.o.d's fire-fraught thunder smite That head, clothed round with h.e.l.l-faced night, Bare now before her here.

And Balen smote therewith the dead Dark felon's body through, and said Aloud, "With even this truncheon, red With baser blood than brave men bled Whom in thy shameful hand it slew, Thou hast slain a n.o.bler knight, and now It clings and cleaves thy body: thou Shall cleave again no brave man's brow, Though h.e.l.l would aid anew."

And toward his host he turned and spake; "Now for your son's long-suffering sake Blood ye may fetch enough, and take Wherewith to heal his hurt, and make Death warm as life." Then rose a cry Loud as the wind's when stormy spring Makes all the woodland rage and ring: "Thou hast slain my brother," said the king, "And here with him shalt die."

"Ay?" Balen laughed him answer. "Well, Do it then thyself." And the answer fell Fierce as a blast of hate from h.e.l.l, "No man of mine that with me dwell Shall strike at thee but I their lord For love of this my brother slain."

And Pellam caught and grasped amain A grim great weapon, fierce and fain To feed his hungering sword.

And eagerly he smote, and sped Not well: for Balen's blade, yet red With lifeblood of the murderous dead, Between the swordstroke and his head Shone, and the strength of the eager stroke Sh.o.r.e it in sunder: then the knight, Naked and weaponless for fight, Ran seeking him a sword to smite As hope within him woke.

And so their flight for deathward fast From chamber forth to chamber pa.s.sed Where lay no weapon, till the last Whose doors made way for Balen cast Upon him as a sudden spell Wonder that even as lightning leapt Across his heart and eyes, and swept As storm across his soul that kept Wild watch, and watched not well.

For there the deed he did, being near Death's danger, breathless as the deer Driven hard to bay, but void of fear, Brought sorrow down for many a year On many a man in many a land.

All glorious shone that chamber, bright As burns at sunrise heaven's own height: With cloth of gold the bed was dight, That flamed on either hand.

And one he saw within it lie: A table of all clear gold thereby Stood stately, fair as morning's eye, With four strong silver pillars, high And firm as faith and hope may be: And on it shone the gift he sought, A spear most marvellously wrought, That when his eye and handgrip caught Small fear at heart had he.

Right on King Pellam then, as fire Turns when the thwarting winds wax higher, He turned, and smote him down. So dire The stroke was, when his heart's desire Struck, and had all its fill of hate, That as the king fell swooning down Fell the walls, rent from base to crown, p.r.o.ne as p.r.o.ne seas that break and drown s.h.i.+ps fraught with doom for freight.