Читать книгу Sir Knight of the Splendid Way - William Edward Cule - Страница 5

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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 of 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 now 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 more 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 was 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. Downbent 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!”