Читать книгу Sir Knight of the Splendid Way - W E Cule - Страница 5

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I

THE traveller who met Sir Constant on the morning of that day was plain of dress and humble of mien. He bore the marks of labour, and was clearly one who knew the traffic of toil and the company of lowly folk; yet he wore his simple garb with grace, and there was dignity in his bearing. When Sir Constant greeted him he answered courteously.

"I see the badge of the Great King's Service," said the knight. "That Service is mine also. Shall we then journey together?"

"Surely," said the Traveller. "Glad am I to walk with those who will walk with me."

They went on together, and kept that companionship for the whole of the day. The stranger told the knight that he was a Carpenter, and that he often came a day's journey on that road. Moreover, he knew the road well, for he had companied many travellers who had passed that way to the City of the Great King. Some of their names he knew, for he kept them in his heart; and when Sir Constant questioned him he spoke gently of them, giving due honour to their valiant deeds and noble worth. Nor had our knight met any man who could speak of the Great King as this man spoke, or whose words bore so much of the music of hope and faith and courage. Nay, so greatly was he stirred in heart that he saw not the lowliness of the stranger's garb nor the marks of toil upon his hands.

"Truly," he cried, "this is a day of joy for me. Promise now that we shall travel together as far as thy course may lie with mine."

Then the Carpenter, smiling, looked into his face. "It is for thee to say, Sir Knight," he answered. "I will not leave thee if thou leave not me."

Sir Constant laughed in his gladness, and lightly promised. He found so great joy in the company of the stranger that the hours passed speedily, but there was more than joy in his heart. This humble traveller was wise in the counsels of the King, and held a rich treasure of noble thoughts; and as the day sped, it seemed to our good knight that this journey was as another which two men had taken long ago. One who seemed a stranger had joined them unawares, and by his words had made their hearts burn within them. In the evening he had sat at meat with them, and suddenly they had known him for the beloved Master whom they had lost. "Such a power has this Carpenter," mused the knight. "It may be that we shall rest for the night together; for he will not leave me as that stranger left his friends."

It was not thus that the night was spent. At sunset they drew near the end of the day's journey, and it was then that the stranger said: "A little way and we reach the cottage of a woodman who is known to me. If his home is not too humble, Sir Knight, it will hold a welcome for thee."

Sir Constant smiled at the thought, but ere the smile had left his lips the words were almost forgotten. For beside the road he saw a lordly gate, and at the gate two squires, standing and waiting. Beyond the gate in a spacious park stood a palace of marble, shaded by lofty trees and surrounded by beds of costly flowers. And even as he looked and wondered, the squires came forward and addressed him courteously.

"Fair knight," said one, "my lord, Sir Joyous, sets us here to greet and welcome any knight of the King's Service. He would claim thee as his guest."

"Where many of the Service have found rest and pleasure," said the other. "See, our lord comes to welcome thee." The knight looked, and saw a man of noble down to the gate. "Is not this a place where we may rest?" he asked of his friend of the day. "Let us go in."

"The welcome is for thee only," answered the Carpenter. "Me they have not asked."

Now the knight saw that this was so, and for the moment he was confused. Swiftly he remembered that this man was but a Carpenter, despite his gracious speech and gentle courtesy. In that instant the squires led him within the gate to meet their master.

Sir Joyous was courteous and gracious, richly clad and of a generous hospitality. He begged that the knight would honour his house, where he should meet with none but friends: for it was his joy, he said, to serve and shelter the King's knights. But when Sir Constant looked back to the gate, and spoke haltingly of his companion, this lord was filled with surprise.

"Is that a friend of thine?" he said. "Perchance he joined thee on the journey? He is a good fellow, but a Carpenter, and visits a certain woodman whose cottage stands a short space along the road. It is there that he will spend the night, but that is surely no place for thee. We have a knightlier lodging here."

Now those words worked so powerfully that our knight forgot his promise of the morning, and was almost ashamed that he should have companied with one so humble. Nor had he seen the baseness of his thought, for Sir Joyous took his arm to lead him, and at the same time there came from the palace the sound of ravishing music. So he suffered himself to be led, though more reluctant than willing: and when he once glanced behind he saw the Carpenter, with down-bent head, moving sorrowfully away from the gates.

II

When Constant found himself awake it was long past midnight, and the great house of Sir Joyous was dark and silent. For a time he lay confused, for the sound of music and song was with him still; but presently he remembered the chamber in which he lay. Then came the memory of his evening with the household of Sir Joyous, of the laughter that had echoed in the halls and gardens, and of the light words that had passed so freely as the company had sat at supper. For there were many guests at the table of the lord of the marble palace, resting awhile from the perils of the road or the labour of a weary task.

But as memory came he knew that his sleep had been troubled by anxious dreams, and now the thoughts of those dreams thronged upon him, so that he was beset by urgent questions. Through all the feasting he had kept himself sober and vigilant as became a knight of the Splendid Way; but he had seen others of the same service strangely heedless, as though no journey lay beyond the gates, no battles to fight, no wrongs to meet and conquer. But the pleasant Sir Joyous seeing the questions in his eyes, had spoken a wise word: "But see, this is a house of ease and rest. And are we not bidden to rejoice always?" And that subtle word had checked his doubts until he had gone to his chamber to sleep.

Now those doubts returned more strongly. It came to his heart that there had been little grace in his leaving the Carpenter, and also that he had never felt so far from the hand and power of the Great King. At that he was awake indeed, and sought to call back to mind that wondrous joy, the Vision of the Face; but he sought in vain, for the Vision seemed far away. A face came indeed, but it looked at him more in sorrow than in love, and he knew at last that it was the face of that humble Carpenter as he had seen him at their time of parting, turning away from the gate in patient silence and with down-bent head. Sorrowful and reproachful was that look, but so great was its power that at last he rose from his bed.

"I know not what I fear," he said in his heart. "But I must resolve my fears ere I sleep again." Now he found that he was not utterly in the dark, for at his bedside burned a small silver lamp which bore the name Reflection. By the light of the lamp he dressed himself, save for his armour, and took the lamp, and left the chamber. He remembered that in the great hail below he had seen a book upon a stand, a book that seemed to be a Book of the Counsel of the Journey. "If they keep and reverence the Book," he said, "they must be good and faithful servants of the Great King, and I shall fear nothing. But I must see before I sleep." So by the light of the lamp he made his way down the great staircase to the hall, and found the place and the book. The book bore the Emblem of the Great King upon its cover, and the same noble Emblem was emblazoned on a rich curtain which hung upon the wall behind.

Sir Constant went to the book, and opened it by the light of the silver lamp: but to his amaze he found that it was not what it seemed to be. In semblance a Book of the King's Counsel, it was a mockery within, for the words of the King's wisdom were changed and false. The counsels of toil and duty were not there, nor yet the counsels of love to the loveless and help to the helpless and succour for the needy.

He saw no sign of the King's joy in the soul that is meek and humble, or in the heart that gives itself for others or in the pity that cheers the lot of the burdened and afflicted. These the maker of the book had cast aside as though they grieved his spirit, and instead had chosen the tales of pleasant things, of the glories of the strong and of the might of kings. Of these things he had made a world that Constant knew not at all, a world that had no love but the love of ease and power.

Then Sir Constant, in mingled fear and anger, rent the book across, and cast the fragments upon the floor. Never again should its false counsels deceive any man! Then he took up the lamp and turned to the crimson curtain which hung upon the wall, bearing the royal Emblem.

"Perchance," he said, "they have here a picture of the Great King or of His City: but I fear me that it will be as false as the Book." And he drew the curtain aside, holding up the lamp so that he might see what lay beyond.

Now the picture hidden by the curtain was the portrait of Sir Joyous, the lord of the Palace, fairly painted and having his name beneath. Gracious and comely, he smiled from the canvas as he smiled upon his guests; and so friendly was the smile that for a moment Sir Constant was rebuked, remembering the courteous welcome of the man whose secrets he now sought to uncover. But even as this thought came, the light of silver lamp shone clearly on the portrait, and as the beams played upon the painted face the knight saw a strange and fearful thing. The face changed, the gracious courtesy faded away, greed and pride and gluttony shone from the eyes, and the mouth was foolish with the folly of wine. And at the shoulder of Sir Joyous stood a ghostly shadow that was at first a shadow only, dim and unformed; but as the knight moved the lamp to see better, the shadow took form, and became a man clad in mail, with sword and dagger drawn, and with evil eyes that shone fiercely through visor bars. And so strong was the menace in that glowering look and in the naked steel that Sir Constant started, and gave a cry, and drew back; so the curtain fell and the enchanted picture was concealed.

He needed not to see it again, for he knew that he had been warned of peril; so he ran back to his chamber, and with the silver lamp to aid him, donned his knightly arms. Then he left his room and went out to the corridor, eager to escape but resolved to know the plot of his secret foe. There was no man in the corridor, but afar off he saw a light from a door that stood ajar: so he took his shield upon his arm, and drew his sword, and strode down the corridor to the lighted doorway. On the rich carpet of that floor went silently, so that he had reached the threshold of the room before those within were aware of his coming.

They were two, and they sat at a table in the room with a chart spread before them. One was Sir Joyous, the lord of the Palace, not gracious and smiling now, but with craft and cunning in his eyes. The other was a knight who had sat at the board in the evening, far off from Sir Constant, but seen as a knight of great strength, and proud and haughty in bearing. He was not of the Royal Service, but a guest of Sir Joyous: some had called him the Black Knight, from the colour of his armour, and others the Knight of the Leopard, from the emblem upon his shield. But his true name was not spoken, for he was said to be under a vow to conceal it.

Now he wore a helmet, but had put off his heavy mail; and he spoke sternly to Sir Joyous, pointing to a place upon the chart.

"See, here in his path lies the Valley of Toil, where I care little to follow him. But if you keep him here even for a few days he will have little zest for such a place as that. Then, when he is wandering from the Way, I can come upon him at my leisure, and conquer him with ease."

"It is well planned," said Sir Joyous. "By fair words and promises I will seek to keep him here. That is my part. The rest I leave to thee. It is grievous to me to have those pestilent knights in my halls, but it is something for my pains that this is their road to doom."

Then they laughed together, an evil laugh laden with dark thoughts: but the laugh ended suddenly, for the Black Knight heard a sound at the door, and turned, and with a fierce cry drew down his visor; yet in that moment Constant had seen his eyes, and knew him for the evil knight of the picture in the hail. Then blustered the false Sir Joyous, like a friend who has been wronged:

"How is this, Sir Knight? Why that sword and this night walking? Is this the courtesy due to a house of friendship?"

Sir Constant eyed him scornfully, deigning no answer: for he saw that this palace was a place of treachery and deceit, and he longed with a great longing for the open air of the Splendid Way. "And woe is mine that I left that way," he said in his heart, "for now there may be great loss ere I win back to it."

So as the plotters sprang to their feet he turned to make his escape.

III

But an escape from the Palace of the false Sir Joyous was not so easy a thing. The alarm was already given, perchance by some watchman who had seen him go to the hall with his silver lamp, or by some who had found the torn book and had afterwards heard his armour ring as donned it: so he entered the great corridor again to find it alight with torches, and the sons of Sir Joyous and the servitors of the Black Knight coming to meet him. Some had pikes and halberds, some swords and battle-axes; and there was a great stir in the palace, so that the awakened guests began to come from their chambers. Then cried the false Sir Joyous behind—"Hold the way! Never let him pass!" and the Black Knight shouted that they should bring his armour. So Sir Constant, seeing his peril, braced his shield and lifted his good sword, and with a shout, "In the King's Name!" drove at the rabble mightily. So great was the shock of his attack that they were at first astonished, and gave back before him to the head of the stairs; and it was seen in that moment that the Emblem upon his shield glowed as with a heavenly fire.

Hard was the fight that he fought down the wide staircase to the cold hall, where the evil book lay still upon the floor and the emblazoned curtain still hung with the golden lie upon it. For every moment the press grew thicker as the men-at-arms came from their quarters, and had it not been for the advantage of the stairs it had been ill indeed for him. The clang of weighty blows, the crash of arms, echoed and rang about the marble pillars, and ruddy shone the red torches on the fierce faces and the motley dress of those who had had no time to don their mail. There our knight had the advantage, and, moreover, his fierce joy in the battle gave him added power; so he drove them before him strongly and parted them to right and left, giving them no time to recover or to make ready, and heeding not their cries and threats.

Least of all did he heed the voices of some who stood by, wearing the Emblem of the King's Service but putting out no hand to aid him. Nay, they called upon him to cease, for that Sir Joyous was a friend and not a foe; but his wrath rose at that base counsel, for he remembered the picture and the plot, and the enchanted book: and once more swinging his bright blade aloft, he struck with all his heart. So it was that he won his way to the staircase, and down to the hall; then to the door, where night loomed dark and still. There he fought so stoutly that the serving men dared not withstand him, and in a while he had the cool breath of night upon his brows and above him the heaven of stars.

But the struggle was yet to come. When the alarm had first been given they had brought the Black Knight his shield and sword and battle mail, so that he was fully armed. Now he came out, driving the press aside and bidding the sons of Sir Joyous make way for him. So they stood aloof, and the champion strode out upon the steps, wrathful and arrogant.

"The fight is mine," he cried. "Let me deal with him alone. And guard thee well, Sir Knight, for now there is only one way out."

So the servants and men-at-arms made a ring, ruddy with torches and grey with eager faces. Sir Constant braced his shield anew, and gripped his hilt with a firmer grip. There was much to do before the end, and that end he could not see. And the marble walls of the Palace looked down upon the fight, with Sir Joyous himself upon the balcony above the pillared door. He was no warrior, yet loved to see a battle to the death.

Then cried Sir Constant his battle cry, "In the King's Name!" and dashed forward, swinging high his sword. The Black Knight countered sternly, and then the dread fight swayed to and fro with the clang of steel on steel, and the ceaseless tread of mail-clad feet, and fierce, hard breathing through stifling helmet bars. And so fierce and equal was the struggle that Sir Joyous held his breath and the watchers fell silent in their watching.

Sir Constant gained some ground at first, so fierce was his attack; but the Black Knight was a master of arms, skilled in defence and patient to wait his time. When the first onset had spent itself he won back his lost ground steadily, his mighty shield and his threatening blade ever at the point of danger. And ever when Sir Constant slackened he pressed forward, the more ominous and terrible for his black armour and his cruel shield. So he became the attacker, forcing our good knight back and back, seeking with steady and relentless eye the opening for a deadly stroke. And Sir Constant, for all his dauntless courage, was oppressed by the knowledge that in the great throng of the Palace there was not one that wished him well.

Nor was the end long delayed, for presently he missed his stroke and for an instant left his head unguarded. Then the Black Knight struck hard, beating the sword out of his grip, so that it clanged loudly upon the paving of the courtyard: and though the fallen sword had saved a little, the weight of the blow was still so great that it brought the young knight to his knees, dazed and helpless. And the foe towered triumphantly above him, blade upraised once more.

"Now I have thee," he cried. "Yield thee to my pleasure."

But Sir Constant had no thought of craving mercy, though he knew that he was down.

"Not I," he cried bravely. "I will not yield even though I be slain.

"Oh, fool," said the Black Knight, "I seek a living slave, not a dead foe. Swear to serve me faithfully all thy days and I will surely spare thy life."

Sir Constant heard, but only faintly at first, so heavy had been his hurt: but kneeling there with his head bowed, spent and almost hopeless, he took the meaning of those foul words, and shuddered: for with them came the memory of Another whose Service he had taken and whose arms he bore. With that thought he raised his head to look up: and it seemed that a torch that danced before him ceased to move, and became a Star shining steadily and gloriously in a tall, narrow casement in a grey stone chapel. 'Then the Star was a Face, overflowing with pity, yearning in love, magnificent in courage; and as he saw it his tired heart leaped and swelled, and there came back to him in full flood the unspeakable Joy of the Vision of the Face. It passed into his veins like fire, and it was both fire and power. He put out his hand, and to his wonder it touched the hilt of his sword, fallen beside him. He seized it and sprang up, giving a great cry.

The star was a face that looked on him tenderly.

That cry was echoed in amaze by the watchers, the Black Knight stood back suddenly and lo! the fight was raging once more. But now our young knight had a power which none might withstand, the power of the Vision of the Face. It nerved heart and hand together, and his blows had the strong ring of triumph. Warily the Black Knight gave ground, waiting the chance that never came: for this time the onslaught did not slacken, but grew in fury, so that no blade could counter it, no shield withstand it, no helm be other than a vain defence. At last he was forced against the pillars of the door, beneath the balcony of Sir Joyous: and there Sir Constant, with another cry "In the Kings Name!" beat down his guard, and shore through his shield, and brought him crashing to earth. There he lay, groaning grievously, and a great cry rose—"He is down! He is down!"

"Beat down his guard and shore through his shield."

Then came Sir Joyous, pleading for his life. "Spare him, good knight," he cried. "He is my kinsman, and I gave thee welcome."

"Who art thou that I should hear thee?" cried Sir Constant. "And who is he that I should spare him! Unlace his helm and let me see his face."

So they unlaced the helmet and removed it, for they dared not gainsay the conqueror. Sir Constant stepped forward, his sword ready, and looked into the face of the foe who had so sorely tried him. But when he had looked he gave a cry of amazement and horror and fear, for the face upon which he gazed was his own face, though now hideous with pain and rage and the heat of battle. It was his own face shown in a mirror of mockery and evil, but none the less his own!

Then said they that stood by: "It is his brother."

"Nay," said Sir Joyous, in a hush of wonder. "It is his own face."

But the Black Knight lay, a mocking smile upon his lips and defiance in his eyes. "I am down indeed," he said. "But canst thou slay me, Sir Constant? Strike, then, and make an end!"

But Sir Constant shuddered and shrank back, chilled to the heart and dumb: for he saw that here he had no foe to be easily destroyed, but a Sorcerer Knight of deadly power and guile. And as he stood confused, his heart heavy with the shadow of this unconquered peril, the henchmen of Sir Joyous pressed forward, and came between him and his foe, and raised the Black Knight, and bore him within the doorway. Then with many hands they thrust the doors together, and fastened them with clanging bars to the sound of mocking laughter.

IV

By the light of the stars Constant left the domain of Sir Joyous and found the road again, with great relief though in great pain. Yet a little while and he saw a light from the door of a cottage, the woodman's cottage of which the Carpenter had spoken. Moreover, the door was ajar, and the woodman was waiting at the door to greet him. He had heard the crash of battle afar off, and had known well what was afoot. And when Constant came thither he saw upon the open door the Emblem of the Great King.

"For this is one of His appointed rest-houses," said the man. "And my name is Joyous, Keeper of the house. Glad am I to serve Him by aiding thee."

He took the knight within, and relieved him of his armour, and laid balm upon his wounds. Then he brought bread and wine, and they sat together at the table while he unveiled the mystery of this grievous adventure.

"It was the King's will that thou shouldst rest here," he said, "for the rest-house of Joyous is one of the rewards of the Royal Service. But the Black Knight, the Sorcerer of many faces, subtle beyond all telling, has mocked this gracious provision and made of it a snare. He has placed that Palace by the way, and over it a fair-spoken warden to whom he hath given a name like mine. But the warden of the Palace is of the brood of the Black Knight, and when he has beguiled a traveller within, it is only that he may learn to his cost the evil power of his most deadly foe. So the Palace of the false Sir Joyous, often called the Palace of Pleasures, becomes the way to failure and dishonour.

"But even there the King hath power, and in every sleeping-chamber is a small silver lamp, the lamp which is called Reflection, which is the King's gift; and it is the holy property of this lamp that where its light is shed the false creations of the Palace must reveal their true form. Thus many good knights saved their life and honour, using the lamp and fighting their way out the Palace. So it was with thee, though sore and long thy battle."

Then said Sir Constant heavily: "That Black Knight is indeed a doughty champion. I fear that I have not yet done with him and his magic."

"Nay," said the Keeper of the King's rest-house. "Not yet, nor for many days. I called him a sorcerer and subtle, but no words of mine may tell his power and guile. One aim he hath, to win thee from the Royal Service; and though he be conquered many times, yet will be come again in other guise, pitiless and unrelenting, so great is his hatred for the Lord of the Splendid Way and His pure Service. Many will be his snares and his disguises, many are the helpers who serve him; but what danger can be greater than this, that he can bear the semblance of thy very self and speak with thy very voice in the inner chambers of thy heart? Nay, Sir Knight, there is but one way of meeting this unresting foe. It is by the Vision of the Face and by that alone. So shalt thou win through to do the King's Will, and honour His Service, and reach at last His City."

Then was Sir Constant sore in spirit for a time with the knowledge of a foe so greatly to be dreaded, and with shame of his own folly in being so ensnared; but Master Joyous gave him aid by calling up precious memories and noble thoughts, of which he had a treasure gathered through the years. At last, therefore, our knight went to his rest greatly heartened: and in his rest, because he had sought it, the Vision of the Face came to him again, shining through his dreams, tender and resplendent. It was more than balm for his soreness of heart, and in the morning he faced the new day with new power. Moreover, he knew that one great peril, the snare of this false Sir Joyous, could lure him no more.

So it was that when he set out he looked not at all to the palace of marble that lay in the park behind, but turned his face steadfastly to the road which led to the Valley of Toil and the Pass of Tears. For the Carpenter, said Master Joyous, had gone that way.