Читать книгу Sir Knight of the Splendid Way - W E Cule - Страница 4

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I

On the farther frontier of the Western Lands dwelt Sir Fortis, an aged knight who was warden of one of the outposts of the Great King. He had won high renown in the battles of his earlier days, but the virtues of his riper years had brought him glory of a gentler kind. The King's banner flew proudly from his castle wall, and when he rode forth he did honour to the royal service by the dignity of his bearing and the brightness of his arms: yet he did that service more honour by the kindness of his heart and the grace of his deeds. His castle was no less a place of pity than a place of power, and his judgment-seat was radiant with the light of mercy.

This good knight was well loved by his household, and by the young men whom he had trained in arms and chivalry. Of these the first was Constant, who had been page to Sir Fortis and was now his squire. He held the old knight in reverent worship, and because he reverenced his master he reverenced also his master's overlord. Ever and anon came royal messengers to the warden's castle, and ever and anon he saw men ride bravely by on their way to the City Beyond the Hills. The Service wooed him strongly, so that he dreamed night and day of great deeds for a great sovereign. Thus it came about at last that no knight set out on the King's Way but the heart of Constant followed him. Sir Fortis saw this, for he loved the boy well. "I know what is in thy heart," he said one day. "Is it not the King's Service and the Great City?"

"It is in my heart and my dreams," said Constant. "Yet I know myself ill-fitted for an enterprise so high. I have seen the worth of the King's knights, and it is far beyond my power."

But Sir Fortis smiled. "Which of us all is worthy?" he said. "Yet who is there that may not be made worthy? I have watched thy longings for many days, and I bid thee fear nothing. It will be my joy to set thee on thy way."

Then Constant's cheek's flamed and his eyes glowed. The old knight smiled as he saw it. "To me may it be given," he said in his heart, "to come at the end of the day to the King's presence, bearing my young men. May the King grant it!" And he said aloud:

"Soon my charge here must be delivered up, and myself summoned to see my lord face to face; but now it is my glory to lead thee to that Service which every man who enters must enter for himself. To that mystic place shalt thou go which is called the Chapel of Voices, and there shalt thou watch by thy arms, bearing with a high courage all that the night may bring. And there, if thou be true and steadfast, thou shalt see that vision without which no man can be worthy of the Great Name."

II

Sunward of the Western Lands lies the vale which is called the Vale of Promise. It is fair and fertile, with many sunny meadows and singing streams, and with flowery paths that seem to offer an easy journey through those Eastern hills which catch the first beams of the morning sun. So lovely are the peaks of those heights on sunny days soon after dawn that the eager heart of youth has often mistaken them for the turrets and pinnacles of the City Splendid, the City the Great King. But the aged and prudent have smiled at this, for they know that the City lies far beyond.

Many of the paths in the vale are merged at last in one, and this leads to another valley, still going Eastward. Here Constant found the way stern and stony, and there were no sunny meadows to tempt the traveller; yet a small stream still murmured by the way, and ever and anon a bed of flowers smiled among the rocks. And though the valley narrowed more and more, yet at times the path climbed high the cliff side, and gave a glimpse of lordly peaks shining gloriously.

At sunset the Chapel stood before him, set in the very heart of the pass. The one worn path came to its threshold, so that there was no onward way save through the Chapel. Still and strange and solemn it stood, but as he stepped over the threshold his tread called ghostly whispers from the stony walls. Lonely the Chapel seemed, but it was not silent.

Within all was plain and stern, but not without nobility. It had one casement only, and this was in the Eastward wall, a lofty casement shaped in the likeness of a great cross. Before the casement stood a table of stone, and before the table a place whereon the watcher might kneel. Before the table also lay a suit of knightly armour, breastplate and gorget and greaves, helm and shield. And the shield lay face upward, showing the Emblem of the Great King, a white cross set in a sombre ground.

Now as the echoes of his footstep died away, Constant paused to listen; and it seemed as though a whisper circled from wall to wall. Then a voice came, clear and low:

"What seeks he here?"

And immediately another voice answered:

"He seeks the Splendid Way and the King's City." Then the first voice spoke again:

"Is he strong and of a good courage?"

"In the King's name he can do all," answered the other voice; and at that word Constant took heart, and went within the chamber. And the clear low voice spoke again:

"This is thy place. These are the arms of the King's service, and here shalt thou keep vigil till the morning."

As he heard this command he saw anew the strange loneliness of the Chapel, grey and solemn in the gathering shadows. There came also a chill breeze from the casement, and he heard those eerie sounds once more, the whisperings that came and fled so causelessly. Yet he stood, and took in hand the sword, leaning upon its hilt; for he must not draw the blade or don the knightly arms until the night had passed. And so he held him ready for his vigil.

Then night fell upon the valley, and a great silence reigned everywhere save within the Chapel: for as the darkness deepened the mystic voices gathered strength, as though they loved the night and silence. "What seeks he here?" said one, again and again; and again and again the answer came in low reverberations from the solemn walls: "He seeks the Splendid Way, the Splendid Way." Then the watcher's heart beat fast, and he gripped the hilt of the sword: for it seemed to him that the answer was followed by a sound of a mocking laugh. And so the night began to pass, not in peace and rest but with the ceaseless traffic of unseen tongues. They came as the night wind when it whispers among the leaves; but the wind speaks and passes on, and no man fears the message that it bears; but the voices of the Chapel came with awe and warning, to riot in the chambers of thought and to try the soul in its inmost citadel.

Still Constant bore him bravely, for he had not come thus far to be turned by whispers. Yet as the voices grew more urgent his heart began to be moved and his hands were chilled upon the hilt they clasped. And so slowly the first hour fled.

Now there were two voices that spoke often, one with question and one with answer. "'What seeks he here?" asked one; and the other answered softly: "The Splendid Way and the City of the Great King." But as the night grew cold he heard less of the second voice, for it grew faint and uncertain: and at last there followed it a whisper that was like the stir of a foul wing in the darkness:

"The City of the Great King? How shall he ever find it?" Then the mocking laughter passed once more, and again the whisper followed it: "How shall he ever find it? And who comes back to tell that he has found it? Let him look and see the Splendid Way."

Then Constant, chilled to the heart, lifted his eyes and looked out through the casement. There was now an utter darkness, with no glory of moon or stars; yet as he searched the gloom, there came a faint, pale light, showing him the whole course of the Splendid Way. It was a narrow and winding way, and it wandered into deep valleys, shadowed and sorrowful, where the steel of foemen glimmered by the wayside; it rose to wild and barren mountain slopes where man must walk alone, for solitude brooded over them. Here it was lost to sight in the depths of a mighty forest, and there it hung like a slender thread over an awesome precipice. And when he discovered the end of the way his heart sank indeed, for there was no gleam of glory from a City Splendid The path was lost in the mists of a dark and dolorous valley, and he could not see that it ever came out again. For the other side of that last valley was beyond his vision.

"See the Splendid Way," said that deadly voice. "And now return and save thyself. The door stands open still."

But that counsel was too craven for the soul of knighthood. Constant gripped the hilt and pressed it to his bosom: and that silent cry was not in vain, for it brought back the friendly Voice that had answered for him at the first. "Be strong and fear nothing," it counselled him. "In the King's Name thou canst do all." And the echoes of the place answered softly, "All, all, all!"

Like a trumpet peal was that word to the young man's heart. He turned again to face the casement, with his back to the open door. The walls of the chamber had begun to tremble, as though they would part asunder, but they stood firm once more. The strange light faded from the way, and its terrors were sealed in darkness. Even the evil whispers for a time were stilled, so that it seemed that a great peace had fallen upon the whole valley.

But the peril came anew, in a form even subtle and deadly, "Constant," cried an ardent voice, "where art thou, Constant?" And in at the open door came the gallant Eagerheart and the loving Joyance, two squires of Sir Fortis and his own comrades from boyhood. Clear and fresh rang their voices through the gloom of the lonely Chapel.

"Was it not well that we followed so far?" cried Joyance. "Is it hither that thy dreams have led thee? But it is not yet too late, and we will take thee back. Too soon hast thou dared the way of the lonely heart."

"Even so," cried Eagerheart. "It is not that we would hinder thee when the true time comes. Nay, we will then go with thee, comrades still. Let the matter wait awhile till we be ready. Our good lord will be right glad for this."

Now Constant was sorely shaken, for thought of the days of love and play and dreams that they had passed together. Since his face was set to the Quest those joys must lie behind, and his journey must be lonely in the lack of them. The touch of Joyance was upon his shoulder, the warm breath of Eagerheart upon his cheek. Half he rose, and some swift word of friendship sprang to his lips. But in that perilous moment he saw at his feet the good shield whose emblem was the Emblem of the Great King, so the word that came was stern and strong.

"It is not Joyance and it is not Eagerheart," he cried. "They had never spoken so! Leave me in peace, in the Great Name!" And even as he spoke the tempters vanished, and he was alone. "In the King's Name," he said, "I go forward!" And once again came Peace, spreading her wings over valley and Chapel and giving quiet to his heart.

So he knelt down again beside the armour and saw the Emblem upon the shield, that it glowed as though some strange light had touched it: and then, looking up to see whence that light might come, he saw a heartening sight. At the head of the shadowy casement shone a single star, faint and far away at first, but clear and friendly, like the voice of a comrade in the hour of peril. Then as he watched the star he was given the Vision of the Face.

It seemed that the small star became a great star, shining, radiant with promise, upon a sleeping world. In his spirit he left the Chapel of Voices and followed the star along a way that the Splendid Way. Long he followed, and at last the star seemed to wait for him, so that he might draw near. But when he drew near there was no star; for the star was a Face that looked upon him tenderly. Down-bent eyes were fixed upon his own, eyes whose love could not be measured, whose compassion was greater than life or death, whose love could compass land and sea, and time that was and is and shall be. About the brow was a dark crown, and the countenance was drawn and pale, but above all was that unutterable love and tenderness. When Constant saw it his heart leaped and burned, and his face shone with the glory that he saw in those matchless eyes. Fear was forgotten, and doubt, and the shadows of the Chapel were but a fleeting fancy: for all that he cared was to kneel and gaze, fearing to move lest the Vision should depart.

Nor did the Vision leave him, but stayed with that deep and tender power till all his heart and soul were won. Then lo! there was a great star at the head of the casement, the morning star, whose radiance gave a silver halo to the Vision and lined the dark crown with jewels of light. And so the light grew about him, until a brave voice spoke from the doorway:

"Rise, Sir Knight, for it is morning!"

III

It was the voice of Sir Fortis, and it was that good knight in very truth who stood in the door way. Behind him stood Joyance and Eagerheart with the horses, and with loving smiles for the friend they loved. And it was day indeed, for the last of the night had gone while his heart had glowed with the Vision of the Face. Moreover the cross which had been but a casement window was now a wide doorway leading to the valley beyond the Chapel: and through this doorway came the first beams of the morning sun, touching the stern grey walls till they shone white. They fell also upon the heaped armour, so that the Emblem upon the great shield had a new glory, and the noble helm glowed with fire.

The old knight raised Constant, and embraced him. "I might not come with thee to the Chapel," he said lovingly, "and no man might share thy vigil. But it is permitted to me to set thee on thy way. For I know that thou hast seen the Vision."

"Even now it was here," said Constant. "I knew not that it had fled."

"The Service," said Sir Fortis, "is not a Vision but a Way. But now we will eat together and then I will arm thee. For such is the joy that I have craved."

He called the squires, and they came eagerly, to lay upon the stone table a white cloth of linen, with cups of silver and a meal of bread and wine. The two knights sat, and ate together, and drank, the squires serving them: and the white glory of the casement cross fell upon the cloth of the table, and the cups of silver and the red wine of the Feast of the Splendid Way. But to Constant there was much more, for his heart was still fired by the Vision of the Face: and so great was its power that there seemed to be Another at the rude stone table, Lord of the Feast, Giver of the Bread and Wine.

When the Feast was over, Sir Fortis rose. "It is my joy to arm thee now," he said, "and to give thee, in the King's Name, the stroke of knighthood. Greater joy than this can fall to no man."

So as the squires brought the armour the good knight took the pieces, and set them in place, and girded them safe and well for his friend, as no man knew better how to do. Then he set upon his head the helmet of tested steel, and last of all took up the mighty shield. "Its Emblem is of mystic power," he said, "for as thy heart is, so shall its radiance be. May it be ever a shining light in dark and dreadful battle, a rallying-point for the King's men in troublous days, a beacon of hope for the weak and forlorn. Yet ever remember this," he added. "These arms shall be thy aid in hour of need, but ever the Vision of the Face shall be thy lodestar."

So Constant took the shield, and kissed it, and laid it upon his arm: and after that he knelt beside the stone table, and the old knight drew his sword and gave him the touch that was the seal of knighthood. "Rise, Sir Constant Knight of the Splendid Way," he said. "In the King's Name!" And he rose, and took his Sword and it was girded upon him: and Joyance and Eagerheart looked upon him with a noble envy. They had loved him well, but never as they loved him now.

"And now," said Sir Fortis, "thou art armed, a knight indeed. Here, too, is the door Eastward, and the beginning of the Splendid Way. Look and see!"

Then the young knight looked, and saw how the path at the foot of the casement led away into the valley and beyond. Even as he looked as he was granted a sudden vision of the whole of the Way, the Journey Perilous of the night of vigil; but now it was wholly changed, for the sun of morning shone upon it, lighting the darkest pass and silvering the heaviest cloud. Far away, walking slowly, was a traveller, his face set to the Eastward Hills and his shield upon his arm. Slowly indeed he went, as though the Way were rough and toilsome: but it seemed to Sir Constant that there was a light upon his path, a light that was not the light of the sun. It seemed to him that this light came from the footprints of One who walked with the traveller, as though to be his comrade. The form he could not see, but be knew that he was there.

This was a marvellous thing to him, and he watched with anxious wonder: but never did that unseen comrade leave the traveller alone. When the path led into a gorge dark and exceeding difficult they were so close that none might walk between: when they trod the way of the cliff it was the same, though the path seemed far too narrow for two; and on the wild mountain slope there was no solitude, for they went as brothers side by side. But when the dark and tangled forest was reached the order was changed, for there the guide walked before, leading the way, a light shining from his footprints and his presence as a morning mist.

Still the knight watched, and at last saw the distant traveller come to the misty valley at the end of the way: but there the presence came even nearer, taking him by the hand, so that they passed into that darkness together. For a moment they were lost to sight, but then the mists began to move, and lifted, and showed a sudden Vision of a great city wall and the golden glory of many gates. With that the vision passed, and only the beginning of the Way was there.

And that was enough. Sir Constant stepped out from the casement door, the door of the Emblem, and set his foot upon the Splendid Way. They bade him God Speed, and watched him go till be turned and waved his hand in farewell.

The old knight answered the signal joyously but when the pages looked they saw that his cheeks were wet with tears. Still he said nothing and presently turned, and got to his horse, and led them home, leaving the grey Chapel standing lonely in the heart of the valley. But the tears upon his face were not the tears of sorrow but the tears of fellowship: for he knew well the perils of the Way, the Valley of Toil, the Pass of Tears, the smooth temptation of the City Dangerous, and the cold mists of the Sunless Sea. Moreover, though he had won through to peace and honour, well did he know the peril of the Black Knight and his evil brood, the peril that takes many direful and alluring shapes, some of them so secret that a man may not write them down. So his tears fell because he might not help the one he loved.

Still the Chapel stands lonely in the Valley of Decision, with its altar of stone and its casement that is a cross: and still young hearts come to the Chapel in the glow of holy desire, to the night of vigil and to win the Vision of the Face. For not until they have seen this may they take to themselves the arms of knighthood and set out upon the Splendid Way.