CHAPTER 6
Ralph Goeth His Ways From the Abbey of St. Mary at Higham
It was the monk who had been his guide the day before who had now wakedhim, and he stood by the bedside holding a great bowl of milk in hishand, and as Ralph sat up, and rubbed his eyes, with all his youthfulsloth upon him, the monk laughed and said:
"That is well, lord, that is well! I love to see a young man so sleepyin the morning; it is a sign of thriving; and I see thou art thrivingheartily for the time when thou shalt come back to us to lead my lord'shost in battle."
"Where be the bale-fires?" said Ralph, not yet fully awake.
"Where be they!" said the brother, "where be they! They be sunken tocold coals long ago, like many a man's desires and hopes, who hath notyet laid his head on the bosom of the mother, that is Holy Church.Come, my lord, arise, and drink the monk's wine of morning, and then ifye must need ride, ride betimes, and ride hard; for the Wood Perilousbeginneth presently as ye wend your ways; and it were well for thee toreach the Burg of the Four Friths ere thou be benighted. For, son,there be untoward things in the wood; and though some of them be ofthose for whom Christ's Cross was shapen, yet have they forgotten hell,and hope not for heaven, and their by-word is, 'Thou shalt lack ere Ilack.' Furthermore there are worse wights in the wood than they be--God save us!--but against them have I a good hauberk, a neck-guardwhich I will give thee, son, in token that I look to see thee again atthe lovely house of Mary our Mother."
Ralph had taken the bowl and was drinking, but he looked over the brim,and saw how the monk drew from his frock a pair of beads, as like toDame Katherine's gift as one pea to another, save that at the endthereof was a little box shapen crosswise. Ralph emptied the bowlhastily, got out of bed, and sat on the bed naked, save that on hisneck was Dame Katherine's gift. He reached out his hand and took thebeads from the monk and reddened therewith, as was his wont when he hadto begin a contest in words: but he said:
"I thank thee, father; yet God wot if these beads will lie sweetlyalongside the collar which I bear on my neck as now, which is the giftof a dear friend."
The monk made up a solemn countenance and said: "Thou sayest sooth, myson; it is most like that my chaplet, which hath been blessed time wasby the holy Richard, is no meet fellow for the gift of some light loveof thine: or even," quoth he, noting Ralph's flush deepen, and his browknit, "or even if it were the gift of a well-willer, yet belike it is aworldly gift; therefore, since thy journey is with peril, thou wertbest do it off and let me keep it for thee till thou comest again."
Now as he spake he looked anxiously, nay, it may be said greedily, atthe young man. But Ralph said nought; for in his heart he wasdetermined not to chaffer away his gossip's gift for any shaveling'stoken. Yet he knew not how to set his youthful words against thefather's wisdom; so he stood up, and got his shirt into his hand, andas he did it over his head he fell to singing to himself a song ofeventide of the High House of Upmeads, the words whereof were somewhatlike to these:
Art thou man, art thou maid, through the long grass a-going? For short shirt thou bearest, and no beard I see, And the last wind ere moonrise about thee is blowing. Would'st thou meet with thy maiden or look'st thou for me?
Bright shineth the moon now, I see thy gown longer; And down by the hazels Joan meeteth her lad: But hard is thy palm, lass, and scarcely were stronger Wat's grip than thine hand-kiss that maketh me glad.
And now as the candles shine on us and over, Full shapely thy feet are, but brown on the floor, As the bare-footed mowers amidst of the clover When the gowk's note is broken and mid-June is o'er.
O hard are mine hand-palms because on the ridges I carried the reap-hook and smote for thy sake; And in the hot noon-tide I beat off the midges As thou slep'st 'neath the linden o'er-loathe to awake.
And brown are my feet now because the sun burneth High up on the down-side amidst of the sheep, And there in the hollow wherefrom the wind turneth, Thou lay'st in my lap while I sung thee to sleep.
O friend of the earth, O come nigher and nigher, Thou art sweet with the sun's kiss as meads of the May, O'er the rocks of the waste, o'er the water and fire, Will I follow thee, love, till earth waneth away.
The monk hearkened to him with knitted brow, and as one that liketh notthe speech of his fellow, though it be not wise to question it: then hewent out of the chamber, but left the pair of beads lying in thewindow. But Ralph clad himself in haste, and when he was fully clad,went up to the window and took the beads in his hand, and looked intothem curiously and turned them over, but left them lying there. Thenhe went forth also, and came into the forecourt of the house, and foundthere a squire of the men-at-arms with his weapons and horse, whohelped him to do on his war-gear.
So then, just as he was setting his foot in the stirrup, came theBrother again, with his face once more grown smiling and happy; and inhis left hand he held the chaplet, but did not offer it to Ralph again,but nodded his head to him kindly, and said: "Now, lord, I can see bythy face that thou art set on beholding the fashion of this world, andmost like it will give thee the rue."
Then came a word into Ralph's mouth, and he said: "Wilt thou tell me,father, whose work was the world's fashion?"
The monk reddened, but answered nought, and Ralph spake again:
"Forsooth, did the craftsman of it fumble over his work?"
Then the monk scowled, but presently he enforced himself to speakblithely, and said: "Such matters are over high for my speech orthine, lord; but I tell thee, who knoweth, that there are men in thisHouse who have tried the world and found it wanting."
Ralph smiled, and said stammering:
"Father, did the world try them, and find them wanting perchance?"
Then he reddened, and said: "Are ye verily all such as this in thisHouse? Who then is it who hath made so fair a lordship, and so goodlya governance for so many people? Know ye not at all of the world'sways!"
"Fair sir," said the monk sternly, "they that work for us work for theLord and all his servants."
"Yea," said Ralph, "so it is; and will the Lord be content with theservice of him whom the devil hath cast out because he hath found him adastard?"
The monk frowned, yet smiled somewhat withal, and said: "Sir, thou artyoung, but thy wits are over old for me; but there are they in thisHouse who may answer thee featly; men who have read the books of thewise men of the heathen, and the doctors of Holy Church, and are evennow making books for the scribes to copy." Then his voice softened,and he said: "Dear lord, we should be right fain of thee here, butsince thou must needs go, go with my blessing, and double blessingshalt thou have when thou comest back to us." Then Ralph rememberedhis promise to the shepherds and took a gold crown from his pouch, andsaid: "Father, I pray thee say a mass for the shepherd downsmen; andthis is for the offering."
The monk praised the gift and the bidding, and kissed Ralph, who clombinto his saddle; and the brother hospitalier brought him his walletwith good meat and drink therein for the way. Then Ralph shook hisrein, and rode out of the abbey-gate, smiling at the lay-brethren andthe men-at-arms who hung about there.
But he sighed for pleasure when he found himself in the street again,and looked on the shops of the chapmen and the booths of the pettycraftsmen, as shoe-smiths and glovers, and tinsmiths and coppersmiths,and horners and the like; and the folk that he met as he rode towardthe southern gate seemed to him merry and in good case, and goodly tolook on. And he thought it pleasant to gaze on the damsels in thestreet, who were fair and well clad: and there were a many of themabout his way now, especially as he drew nigh the gate before thestreets branched off: for folk were coming in from the countryside withvictual and other wares for the town and the Abbey; and surely as helooked on some of the maidens he deemed that Hall-song of Upmeads agood one.
The Well at the World's End: A Tale Page 7