Читать книгу John o' the Green - John Jeffery Farnol - Страница 6

Table of Contents

A narrow track that led away between tall forest trees ever deeper into the wild, a devious way shut in by greeny glooms and depth on depth of whispering leafage, a track that became a vague path that dwindled, little by little, until it was not. But John pushed forward, guiding himself as only one skilled in forest lore might, and snuffed the air joyously, a well-remembered fragrance of earth and herb and warm bracken.

Thus rode he amid sweet twilight of cool, green alleys, shot athwart by golden beams of sunlight here and there, until, about high noon, he reached a glade where stood a great tree with massy, far-flung boughs, its vasty bole writhen and knotted with the ages, its rugged bark showing jagged fissures and gaping rents, into one of which he thrust hand, drawing thence a cord whereto a long bugle horn depended. Forthwith set he horn to lip and winded it right lustily, waking cheery echoes near and far. Thereafter, bowed in saddle, elbow on knee and chin on fist, in pensive guise, he waited mid the shade of the great tree.

And after some while in brake and thicket was a stir, a vague rustling, steel glimmered, faces peered, every bush had eyes; then, lifting right hand, John spake:

"Fair greeting to ye, brothers all!" and herewith he struck a resounding chord upon his lute. Then the little glade seemed full of wild figures, men hairy and unkempt in rusty mail, in garments of skins, leather or ragged homespun, and from each and every rose shout of joyous acclaim; and loudest of all three:

"Why--'tis John!" cried the first, a dark-haired, smallish very youthful-seeming fellow, who flourished bow tall as himself.

"Ay, by Saint Guthlac, 'tis our comrade!" roared the second, a black-bearded giant, striding forward.

"Welcome back to the kindly greenwood, John!" said the third, a lean, haggard, sad-eyed man. And then one and all they were about him, staring on him in huge and loud-voiced wonderment.

"Aha, John be back ... John hath broke prison ... hath 'scaped Limping Tristan's cursed gallows! Ha for our John a Green!..."

Now John's lean cheek flushed, his dark eyes glowed as rough hands seized his, while others clapped and patted him in right hearty welcome.

"Ay, but what o' t'others?" demanded the tall man, plucking at black beard. "The nine that went with thee, John, what o' them?" Answered John:

"Hearkee, good Watkyn and comrades all! I brake no prison--hither am I and alive but by will of Tristan the King--"

"Now, by the bones!" cried tall Watkyn, wagging head. "Here's very miracle, brother."

"Nay," said John bitterly. "He spared me but that I might serve him in certain purpose, a matter I may not tell, yet one I must needs adventure, lest he slay our comrades nine, for they do lie in peril o' noose--hostages for this poor body o' mine--"

Hereupon rose sudden fierce outcry with glitter of brandished steel:

"Ha, a rescue! A rescue! We'll with thee, John! We do be ready and willing. Lead us, John, lead us!" So cried they until John silenced them with upraised hand.

"Alas," said he, "'twere vain, good fellows; the King holdeth them fast and he is mightily beyond our strength. So 'tis I must adventure alone--"

"Ha, then," cried the dark-haired, smallish man, his comely face flushed and eager, "fain would I with thee, I that was Walter de Benyon and now Wal, thy sworn brother-in-arms, 'tis boon I sue o' thy friendship, John."

"And I," cried the tall man, brandishing ponderous axe, his black beard bristling, "I Watkyn that was aforetime Vivyan Chand of Ler, also thy brother-at-arms, I demand it."

"And," said the haggard, sad-eyed man, hands crossed on the pommel of long sword, "I that am Thurstan the solitary,--I will take it."

"And I," cried a fourth, a stout, grey-bearded fellow, "that am no lording, but Jenkyn a Thorn and verderer to thy noble father and thee, my lord when follow thee I needs must."

"Faith now," quoth John, looking from one to other, "I am for the pomp and splendour of the Duchess Ippolita's court--"

"Ha, and we," cried tall Black Watkyn, scowling down at his tatters and rusty mail, "we show like so many rascallion trailbastons!"

"Methinks our outer seeming might be amended," sighed grave Thurstan.

"Nay, my brothers," answered John, shaking his head, "as poor gleeman go I, a mere singer o' songs such as few should let or stay, and riding alone thus I shall travel even safer, mayhap ... And now--hearkee, comrades all, and wit ye well! From this hour be ye all eyes, keep watch hereabouts but especially in the Debatable Land and on the borders of Pelynt, for the Bear is up and awake, Fitz-Urse is astir and this methinks bodeth evil--" Here again was wild uproar of fierce shouts and cries:

"Ha--say ye so, John? Death to the Bear! Oho, we'll bait him! Down with Fulk! Death to black Fitz-Urse ..." Until once more John silenced them with hand uplift.

"One other matter, good my gossips, and thou Jenkyn a Thorn--this day to Bracton Thicket by Morven, rideth a young lord for safe harbourage, bearing our cognizance of the three leaves, one Raymond hight, of Fordham Shene; foster and comfort ye him for his sake and mine till such time as ye get word of me. And so, all's said--good comrades, fare ye well."

But now the wild company pressed about him, calling upon him, each and every and all together:

"Nay, John ... Ho, good brother, sing us ere ye go! ... A song o' farewell, John! ... Nay, sing the song ye made o' we! Ay, ay, the Song of Outlawry! Sing us, John, sing us!" And so, looking round upon them all, John plucked harp strings with skilled fingers and presently sang them his Song of Outlawry.

Sad sang John nor did any man stir or speak until the chords of his little harp had died into silence; then they clamoured for more, some pleading for the song again, some crying for song more merry. But John shook his head, slung the lute gently to his back and gathered up the reins of his unlovely-seeming horse; then:

"Room!" cried he. "Room for poor John the Gleeman!" And so, with cheery nod, rode he from them upon his solitary way.