Читать книгу John o' the Green - John Jeffery Farnol - Страница 9

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The setting sun made a glory of the stream that ran wide and murmurously shallow between reedy banks; and John was halfway across the ford when, roused from his gloomy meditations by jingle and stamp of hoof, he glanced up and saw three mailed horsemen watching him beyond the ford, sinister figures all, for their great helms were laced on and visors lowered.

"Ha, Messires," saith John, reining up in mid-stream, "what would ye with myself? For weet ye well that I am poor mere gleeman."

The midmost horseman, of form gigantic, tossed up ponderous lance and, catching it very featly, laughed and thereafter spake, his deep voice booming in the hollow of his great casque:

"Ho, John--ho, John; greeting and fair welcome to thee!"

Then visors were unclosed, the three came spurring and John looked into the cheery faces of tall Watkyn, youthful Walter and haggard Thurstan.

"But," he questioned, glancing from one to other, "how come ye hither and thus equipped?" Answereth Walter, with gentle smile of fond recollection:

"By a singular good fortune, brother John, we chanced upon seven arrogant strangers at Bracton Thicket--"

"Or they on us!" amended Watkyn.

"In fine, we ambushed them!" sighed Thurstan.

"The which seven," continued Walter, "after some small, bickerful debate, were fain to yield them unto our mercy--"

"Though two died!" nodded Watkyn.

"And all something scathed," sighed Thurstan.

"Moreover, I ha' shaved mine beard!" quoth Watkyn.

"Peace, thou bald-face!" cried Walter; "suffer me word! And so, John, thus well bedight, furnished and armed in spoils o' war, we spurred south, questing for thee, and lo, here behold us--to ride, fight, live or die with thee, brother."

"Hum!" quoth John, chin in fist and looking on the warlike three. "Yet how shall honest gleeman and meek singer o' songs justly consort with three such dogs of war? 'Twere out o' reason! Yet right welcome are ye, brothers, for being fellows all of so desperate spirit, the liker am I, with ye at call, to achieve my purpose...."

"Now pray thee, what purpose, John?"

"On my life," answered John, scowling at his horse's ears, "such purpose that whether ye come thus aidful by will of God, or wile o' the Devil, I ken not. Howbeit, let us on and take counsel--"

"Nay, first," sighed Thurstan, "what o' Walter's captive, yonder?"

"How? Captive?" John demanded.

"Aha, I had forgot!" nodded Walter. "A tall gentle, gently armed, John, yet of manner dispunct and invective foul, that lurked expectant by the ford yonder--"

"And ye waylaid him?"

"John, it hath been our wont so long to let and stay all and sundry i' the wildwood, that the habitude sticketh and I was on him or ever I might bethink me of our altered estate--"

"Now, here's base doing, Walter!"

"Granted, brother, and heartily agreed; howbeit--'tis done!"

"God send ye harmed him not."

"John, save for buffet o' the mazzard, we used him right tenderly; he sitteth in yon green on grassy tuffet, of the goodly world regardant."

"Show me!" said John, and veiling face in his deep hood, he leaped to earth and tossed bridle to grave Thurstan; so down lighted Walter, humming cheery stave, and led in amid the woodland that bordered the road to where sat one solitary and fast bound to a tree; and this man had neither blazoned shield or surcoat and upon his head a great, heavy-visored helm.

"Sire," quoth John, hasting to loose the prisoner, "for this discourtesy we crave pardon." The unknown, muttering savagely, stood up, peering this way and that.

"My sword!" said he, in deep voice of a strange huskiness.

"Walter, dost hear?" Humming ever, Walter stepped behind adjacent tree and presently came bearing the weapon, which he tendered to its owner with exaggeration of courtesy.

"My bugle horn!"

"Walter, dost hear?" From beneath a bush Walter produced the horn, to have it snatched away, in which same moment the unknown, retreating suddenly, sounded shrill summons and so stood facing them, sword in hand.

"Aha!" cried Walter, "this bandog yelpeth to fellow curs, methinks,--better we slit his weasand ere they beset us--"

"Nay--hold off!" cried John; but even then was splashing at the ford near by, clatter of hoofs, shouts and the shock of fight on the road behind them.

Instinctively John turned thither and was tumbled sprawling by buffet of the stranger's powerful fist, who, laughing fiercely, smote Walter to his knees, leapt into the brushwood and was gone, but with Walter in eager pursuit.

Now as John, something dazed, sat rubbing his bruised head, to him strode mighty Watkyn and beneath his arm one who writhed, vainly kicking.

"Ha, John," cried Wat, "'tis accursed unneighborly country this, I wete,--for yon were Thurstan and I waiting for ye on the road, dreaming no ill to no man, when down on us spur three fiendly fellows, whereby I snapped my good lance, carrot-like; Thurstan's horse hath gotten scathe and I took--this!" and throwing his captive to earth, Watkyn set foot on him. "Ho, a vile country this, John!"

"What o' Thurstan?"

"Cherisheth his horse--nay, yonder he cometh. But for this base, murdering rogue, best end him, meseemeth, lest he harm other poor traveller," and Watkyn levelled sword at the captive, who squirmed and cried beneath his heavy foot. Then sprang John and putting by the thrust, scowled into Watkyn's scowling face.

"Let him up!" saith John. "Whatsoever ill assail us, 'tis ye yourselves have bred it,--let this man up, I say!"

"Malediction!" growled Watkyn. "Though ye be John a Green, yet am I Vivyan Chand of Ler."

"So am I quit o' thy fellowship unless--" But here Walter leapt forth of the shadowy underwoods and leaning on sword to catch his breath, wagged head in self-reprobation:

"The dog outran me!" he panted, "yet had I one stroke--at him and--shore away his gypsire--and nought in't for my labour--save this!" and he gave John a piece of parchment whereon was drawn a diagram--thus:

"And right clerkly done!" quoth John, scanning this parchment closely in the failing light. "Watkyn, set steel again to yon fellow's throat, and smite an he speak not."

And thus, while the cowed wretch stared up the long blade to the implacable, helmeted visage above, John questioned him:

"What know ye of him that bare this parchment, the unknown in plain harness that summoned thee and thy fellows with moot of horn?"

Man: No thing, good Messire, by Holy Rood I swear. Thrice only have I seen him and ever with his visor shut--and oh, good my lord, let them not slay me.

John: Know ye the Hangstone Waste?

Man: Yea, master.

John: What see ye there o' nights?

Now at this, the man shivered, speaking not.

John: Prick him to discourse, Wat.

Man: Ha--flames, flames, master, and fires o' hell.

John: Ay, so! And in these flames, what stirreth?

Man: Fiend and goblins damned.

John: And what beside? Prick him, Watkyn.

Man: The Beast ... the great Beast that claweth.

John: What like is he, this beast?

Man: Lord, I know not. I did but blink it once by light o' moon and hid me i' the marsh.

John: Hast seen it at work?

Man: Nay, master, I have heard it ... once.

John: What heard ye?

Now here this man's face ran sweat and he shivered, not all by reason of the sword point at his throat.

John: Prick him, Watkyn.

Man: Ah my lord ... one screamed ... mortally.

John: Where in this waste saw ye this clawing beast, these fiendly shapes?

Man: Hard by the Hanging Stone, good sire.

"Now fellow--hearkee!" quoth John. "Get ye unto them ye serve and say there be fiendly goblins, new-come, a-creep towards Hangstone, that shall outfiend all other fiends and goblins soever. Say that this Clawing Beast shall be met claw for claw, and when Lion roareth, he shall be heard far as High Morven. And now--up, rogue, and be suddenly gone--away!"

Hereupon Watkyn removed his heavy foot, kicked the captive to his legs and slapped him heartily with flat of sword as, without a backward glance, the man sprang into the leafy shadows and fled in headlong career.

"Nay but, sweet brother," questioned Walter, "what dost mean by this talk o' fiends and clawsome beasts, this roaring o' lions and cetera?"

"In faith," answered John, frowning down at the drawing in the failing light, "I would I knew,--'twas spoke but by one rogue to another, in matter o' roguery, and shall perchance give other rogues to think, I guess. For, brothers all, hereabouts in this fair Duchy is black work afoot--heigho! Now tell me, Walter, spied ye aught about yon lusty fellow that smote us, whereby we may know him again?"

"Ay, by the Rood, this did I, John--he lacketh the top joint of his little finger. Aha, I'll know him again and when next we meet, an the sweet saints prove so kind, old Guttler here shall rive his liver!" and Walter slapped the hilt of his long sword.

"The top joint of his little finger!" nodded John. "Which hand?"

"His left, sweet brother, his left. I saw 't plain, for his mitten slipped and hung a-dangle--ay, I'll know him an we meet."

Very thoughtfully John rolled up the parchment drawing, set it carefully in the pouch at his girdle and turned back towards the road.

"Tonight," said he, musingly, "the moon is nigh full and I'm fain to look on this Hangstone Waste."

"Ay, but--wherefore, brother?"

"For that 'tis devil-rid, as ye hear. Now I have never seen goblin, spirit or dæmon in all my days, Walter."

"Perchance hast not the eyes for such, John; some ha' the sight and some not."

"Hum!" quoth John.

"Ha," growled Watkyn, "and wherefore meddle wi' such, for goblins and dæmons be no honest company for no man!"

"Nay, by Saint Walrond," laughed Walter, "to hunt a dæmon promiseth some joyance. I lust to try my good lance; moreover, I have my bow--"

"Tush, thou Wal-fool," snarled Watkyn; "how shall mortal weapon avail 'gainst spirit that is but a shade?"

"Peace, thou massy Beef! Howbeit, 'twere right fair venture to joust with a ghoul or wing a goblin."

Watkyn: Hold, thou Sparrow-wit.

Walter: A fico i' thy maw, thou cumberous shog!

Watkyn: Ha, rouse me not, mannikin, lest I hang thee to my girdle for a fly-flap.

Walter: Be defied, thou Bulk!

Watkyn: Now by my head, I vow to--

Walter: Fie, fie, Bladder-pate, swear by thy vanished beard ...

But now, or ever tall Watkyn could find apt retort, came they to the road where Thurstan, more sighful than ever, comforted his wounded horse as well as he might.

"Is he able, think ye?" questioned John, peering at the animal's hurt.

"An we gentle him!" nodded Thurstan. So, being mounted all, they rode on very slowly, Walter and Watkyn behind, knee and knee, wrangling together as was ever their wont, until, reaching open country, John drew rein and pointed away across down-trending, velvet slope and wide, lush valley to where afar, high-throned above this pleasant vale, all glorious with sunset, rose the mighty walls and bastions, the embattled towers and frowning turrets of the famous city called Pentavalon, brooding stately over fertile vale, goodly village and tree-shaded, sleepy hamlet, like a grim yet kindly giant.

Now as he gazed upon this city, John saw a cloud above it that grew and grew, seeming, to his entranced vision, like a monstrous, clutching hand forth-stretched in stealthy menace against the many lives therein and, more especially--one; now, remembering his mission, he was filled with a fierce self-hatred, wherefore he turned from the city to look very wistfully on the valorous, steel-girt faces of his three companions, this intrepid three, and spake them on sudden impulse:

"Good my comrades, though outlawed man and nameless, I wit ye well for lords of gentle blood, all three. Now is there ever a one of ye hath had knowledge and acquaintance aforetime of the Duchess Ippolita of Pelynt?"

"Not I," answered Watkyn; "my good castle of Ler stood far north."

"Nor I!" said Walter. "Born mid ruin and bred to strife I, i' the Debatable Land."

"Ere I wed me wife," sighed Thurstan, "and gat me children--sweet babes snatched from me by bloody Fitz-Urse, I lived one of Duke Robert's pages and saw full oft the little Ippolita, his daughter. Since when fifteen weary years ha' sped--"

"Ha, sayst thou, Thurstan! Then, comrade, I charge thee ride unto the Duchess forthright, win speech with her by memory of past friendship--proffer her yourselves and good swords, for 'spite yon high walls and 'battled towers, she lieth in dire peril, as I do know.... Roguery creepeth upon her ever nearer, to betray her to prison and--death belike. So be ye wary, one and all; find ye some hostry together, ward ye the Duchess how ye may ... watch over her until I come--ay, and after ... I'll with ye soon. But for now, until we meet, God speed ye well!"

So saying, John spurred his powerful steed to sudden gallop and thus left the three gazing after him in no little wonderment.