Now on the thirteenth day of his sojourn he walked this path, and had gone somewhat further than usual, and was beginning to think of turning back, when there came a man toward him from the Wood and hailed him, and he took his greeting. The man was clad in black, and had a buckler at his back and sword and dagger by his side, a white sallet on his head: a long-nosed, dark-haired man, beardless and thin-lipped, whose eyes came somewhat too near to each other each side of his head. He looked as if he might be some chapman's servant.

Osberne looked for him to pa.s.s by him, and stood a little aside; but the man stopped and said: "O famous warrior, might a carle of no worth speak with thee a few words this noon?"

"Why not?" said Osberne, smiling, for never might he bring himself to the fashion of great men to be rough and short with common folk. Said the newcomer: "Thou art far from the host today, and hast no angry look on thee, wherefore I shall risk thy wrath by saying that thou lookest somewhat less than gleeful, great warrior." Said Osberne: "I have a trouble on me, and I have been forced to let many men know thereof."

"Wilt thou tell me thereof?" said the newcomer; "maybe I shall be the last to whom thou shalt tell it."

Osberne looked on him a while doubtfully and anxiously; at last he said: "This it is. Five years ago a maiden was stolen from me, and I have sought her since in many places, and have heard no word concerning her of any avail." Said the carle: "Dost thou remember the battle in the square by the carfax of the great City, and how there was a man before thy mighty hand who cried out to spare his life, for that he could tell thee of the said maiden; and thereon thou wert about to give him peace, but ere thou couldest take him to thy mercy he was slain by one of the carle-weavers?"

"Yea," said Osberne, "I remember it."

"Now," said the carle, "I shall make no mystery of it, but shall tell thee at once that that same man was the brother of the master whom now I serve. And I have an errand from him unto thee, and he saith that what his brother knew, he knows, and somewhat more; and thy maiden is yet alive, and that he can tell thee how to find her surely if thou wilt. And he is not far hence."

Osberne looked somewhat wildly, and he caught the carle by the hand and cried out: "Good fellow, bring me to him at once and I will well reward thee." "Nay," said the carle, "but there comes something before that; my master is a chapman, and liveth by selling, not by giving; and he will take of thee two hundred n.o.bles before thou hast his tale.

Thou and I may call that weregild for the slaying of his brother."

"Yea," said Osberne, "but I carry not two hundred n.o.bles in my pouch."

"Well then," said the carle, "I will be here tomorrow or the day after if thou wilt." "O nay, nay," said Osberne, "but abide thou here, and I will go up to the castle and fetch the gold." "So be it," said the carle; and he sat him down by the way-side, and pulled out victuals and wine from his scrip and fell to dining.

But Osberne put forth all his swiftness of foot, and was speedily in his lodging, and came to his treasury and took forth the gold and set it in a bag, and hastened back again, and found the carle where he had left him. "Thou art swift-foot indeed," said the carle, "but belike thou shalt not often again run so fast as thou hast e'en now. But thou art breathed; wilt thou not sit down a while till thou come round?"

"No," said Osberne shortly, "I will on at once." "Well then," said the carle with a grin, "suffer me to carry thy bag." "Take it," said Osberne, and reached it out to him. The carle handled the bag and said: "Plump are the n.o.bles, lord, if there be but two hundred herein." "There is more in it," said Osberne, "for there is the gift for thee. But lead thou on straightway." So the carle led on, and they went by divers woodland paths for some two hours, and then they heard the sound of a little water falling. Quoth the carle: "It is down in this ghyll that my master promised to abide me." And therewith he began to go down the side of a ghyll well bushed and treed, and somewhat steep, and Osberne followed him. When they got to the bottom there was a fair s.p.a.ce of flat greensward underneath a little force of the water; but no man awaited them.

"Where is thy master, good fellow?" said Osberne. "He will scarce be far," said the carle; "I will call him." And therewith he set two fingers to his mouth and whistled shrilly.

Now Osberne was all beswinked with his run to and fro the castle and his two hours' walk thereafter, and he was sore athirst, so he went down on his knees to drink of the clear little pool beneath the force.

And now, what with the failing day and the tall trees well-nigh meeting overhead, it was dusk in the ghyll; and moreover as...o...b..rne drank (and he was in no hurry about it) with his face to the force and his back to the length of the ghyll, the tinkling and splashing of the force deafened his ears to any sound but a somewhat big one. So he drank and thought no evil; but of a sudden he felt a sharp pain in his left side, and ere he could say that he knew he had been smitten, another and another, and he rolled over on the greensward and lay still, and there stood above him three men, the carle-messenger to wit and another of like sort, and a third clad in white armour.

"The end of the Red Lad!" quoth the messenger. "Nay," said the other carle, "draw thy sword and smite the head from him, lord; make sure of him." The knight half-drew his sword from the scabbard; but then stayed his hand and said in a quavering voice: "Nay, nay! let us begone. Dost thou not see? There is one sitting by him!" "It is a bush in the dusk," said the other; "give me thy sword." But the knight for all answer ran swiftly down the ghyll, and they two that were left shrank and trembled, for there verily sat one by the wounded man in a scarlet kirtle, as they deemed, and a bright steel basnet. So they ran also after their master, and all three fell to climbing the side of the ghyll.

Now about a mile thence was a certain hermitage in a clearing of the wood, and when the night was growing dark the door was smitten on, and when the hermit opened, there was before him a tall n.o.ble-looking man in scarlet kirtle and bright steel basnet, bearing in his arms another man dead or grievously hurt. And the tall man said: "Canst thou leechdom?"

"Yea," said the hermit, "therein have I been well learned."

"See here then, here is a man grievously hurt, but he is not dead. Now I have done all I might for him, for by my craft have I staunched his blood; but I wot that he needeth long leechdom to be made whole. Now I may not come under thy roof, so take him of me, and lay him on thy bed and look to him, and do thy best: for if thou heal him thou shalt thrive, and if thou heal him not thou shalt dwindle." "Fair sir," said the hermit, "I need neither promise nor threat, for G.o.d's love and Allhallows' I will heal him if it may be."

So he took Osberne from Steelhead's arms, and being a stark and big man got him on to the bed and did off his raiment. Then he searched his grievous hurts according to leechcraft, and presently looked up from the wounded man and said: "Since this man is not yet dead, I deem not his hurts deadly, and I think to heal him with the help of the Holy Saints." Said Steelhead: "Thou hast in thy mouth, my friend, a deal of holiness that I know nought of. But I thank thee, and if thou heal my friend verily I will call thee Holy. Now shall I depart, but tomorrow forenoon I shall come her again and learn tidings of him."

"Go in peace, and G.o.d and Allhallows keep thee," said the hermit.

"Well, well," said Steelhead, "we will not contend about it, but I look to it to keep myself." And therewith he strode off into the night.

Then lay Osberne between life and death a long while; but after a time he began to mend, and came to his right mind, and remembered the felon-strokes in the ghyll; but of Steelhead's being there he knew nothing, for Steelhead had charged the hermit to say no word of it to Osberne. The hermit was a good and kind man and a well-learned leech, and after a while Osberne began to mend speedily. And he would have amended speedier, but he was sick at heart that his sudden hope had so failed him, and said within himself that now all hope was gone. Albeit the Dale and Wethermel drew him to them without ceasing.

Chapter LII. The Meeting of Osberne and Elfhild

At last, when it was some six weeks from the time of that felony, and Osberne was on his legs again, and had gone to and fro in the wood nigh to the hermit's cell, now he began to think he must get him home to the House of Longshaw, and thence away to the Dale with a trusty guide; and the hermit would not say him nay, whereas his strength was but just come back to him.

On a time he went abroad from the cell, and was girt to Boardcleaver lest he should come across aught ill; he went somewhat further than he had been wont, till the day was beginning to draw toward sunset. It was now the latter end of May, and the leafy boughs were at their fairest; the sky was bright and blue, and the birds were singing in heavenly choir, and he scarce thought it good to go back speedily to the dark cell. So he went on a little further and a little further, till he was ware in the glade before him [of one] whom, as she drew nigher to him, he saw to be a seemly dame as for her years, straight and tall; neither was she clad in rags, but in a comely black gown and white coif. Nevertheless, as 't is said, Once bit, twice shy, so it was with him, and he was for giving her the go-by. But she would not have it so, and she greeted him and said: "Hail to thee, n.o.ble; whence art thou last?" Her voice was clear and good, and now as he looked in her face he deemed he saw no evil in it, but goodwill rather. But he said: "Hail to thee, dame; I am last from a sick-bed, where guile and felony laid me."

"Well," said she, "but there is something else than guile and felony in the world, is there not?"

"I know not," said he shortly.

"I have seen somewhat else, if only once," she said. "I have seen truth and good-faith and constancy and hope without reward; and five years have worn no whit of that away."

"Hah," said he; "was it a man, a warrior? Meseems I know one such, were it not for the hope."

"Nay," said she, "it is a woman."

"And what like is she to look on?" said he. She answered: "If thou wilt come with me, she is no great way hence abiding my home-coming."

Said Osberne: "But what or who is it she is true to? or for whom doth she long, hoping against hope? Is it father, brother, son, sister, or what?" Said the carline: "It is her troth-plight man; and verily I, as well as she, deem that he is worthy of it; or was, when she saw him."

Osberne laughed, and said: "Good dame, if this be so, what profit were it to me to see her? I am not her troth-plight man, and if it be as thou sayest, I shall be unto her as one of the trees of the wood."

"There will be this profit," said the carline, "that thou wilt set eyes on one of the fairest creatures that G.o.d ever made." "Small profit therein," said Osberne, laughing again, "if I set eyes on her beauty and am ensnared thereby; then maybe shall be another tale for this woodland. For belike thou deemest me old, but I am a young man, only I am haggard with the battle between life and death as I lay wounded yonder." Therewith he pulled aback his hood, and the carline came close up to him and looked him hard in the face, but said nothing. Then he said: "Dame, to be short with thee, I have walked into the trap once, and will not again, if I may help it. Now I know not what thou art; for all I know thou mayst be a bit of bait of my foes, or even a sending from evil things. Nor hast thou said any word why specially I should come with thee."

She was still standing close to him, and now she laid her hand on his breast and said: "This I say as a last word, and thou must take it how thou wilt. If thou dost not come with me now, thou shalt rue it only once, to wit, all thy life long."

He looked on her and knit his brows, and said at last: "Well it is little to throw away the end of my life, and there may be some tidings or tracks of tidings to be found. I will go with thee, dame. Only this time," he muttered, "let there be no coming to life again."

"Thou art wise," said the carline; "let us lose no time." So they set off, and up and down by rough and smooth, till the wood was quite dark, and the stars were overhead when they came to a clearing, and sweet was the peace of the May night. At last they saw before them a glimmer of light, which as they wound about became presently a little window, yellow-litten, and casting its light upon a s.p.a.ce of greensward and a little tinkling brook.

So came they to a little cot, seemly enough thatched with reed from the woodland meres. Osberne made up toward the door, but the carline put forth her hand and thrust him back, and said: "Not yet; abide where thou art a minute;" and straightway fell to going withershins round the house. This she did three times, while Osberne gat his anlace bare in his hand.

At last the carline came to him, and spake softly to him in his ear: "All is free now, Dalesman, come thou!" And she took him by the hand and opened the door, and lo, a little hall like many another cot, but clean and sweet and comely. Now Osberne had pulled his hood about his face again, and looked round; for as often happens when one enters a chamber, the child of Adam therein is the last thing one sees. Then he drew back a little, and stood there trembling. For what was in the chamber besides the simple plenishing was a maiden who stood up to receive them; tall she was and slender, clad in a dark blue gown; her hair dark red and plenteous, her eyes grey, her chin round and lovely, her cheeks a little hollow, and in the hollow of them entreaty and all enticement: she stood looking shyly at the newcomer, of whose face she might see but little. The carline seemed to note neither her nor Osberne, but cried out in a cheerful voice: "Now, child, if I be somewhat later than I was looked for, yet I have brought the gift of a guest, seest thou; a good knight who hath of late been brought to death's door by felon's deed, but is now grown whole and fight-worthy again. So let us bestir us to get him meat and drink and all that he needeth."

So they fell to, while Osberne stood where he had first come in; and he scarce knew where he was, but looked down on the floor, as though the Sundering Flood of the Dales rolled betwixt him and the maiden; for indeed when his eyes first fell upon her he knew that it was Elfhild. Now the two women had not been long at dighting the supper ere there came a rough knock on the door, and straightway the latch was lifted and in strode three men-at-arms; two in jack and sallet with bucklers and sword and dagger, the third a knight clad in white armour with a white surcoat. This stirred Osberne out of his dream, and he sat down on a stool nearer in than he had been. The Knight cried out: "Ho, dame, I see thou hast one guest, and now here be three more for thee; we have stabled our horses in thy shed already, so thou hast nought to do save getting us our supper: dispatch I bid thee. And now who is this tall carle sitting there?"

Osberne knew them at once as they came in, that they were the three felons who had smitten him in the ghyll. He answered nought, and kept his hood about his face. "Roger," quoth the knight, "and thou, Simon, cannot ye get an answer from the lither loon?" Roger lifted up his foot and kicked Osberne roughly, and Simon laid hold of his hood to pull it off him, but found it held tight enough; and Osberne spake in gruff and hollow voice: "I am a living man, ye were best to let me be."

Then had there been battle at once, but even therewith comes in Elfhild bearing a pewter measure of wine and beakers withal, and the newcomers stood staring at her beauty, silent for a minute. Then the Knight did off his basnet and spake in a loose, licorous voice: "The liquor we hoped for, but not the cup-bearer; and so it is, that I would liefer have the cup-bearer than the cup. Fair maid, will not a kiss go before the pouring out? or never shall I have heart to drink."

And he rose up and went toward the maiden, who stood confused and trembling, and turned pale. But Osberne had risen also, and with a quick turn had thrust between the White Knight and Elfhild, and now stood with his back to her, facing the felons.

"What, cur!" cried the White Knight: "shall we have thee out and flay thy back with our stirrup-leather?" Said Osberne, speaking slowly: "That is the third question too much thou hast asked in the last few minutes. Lo thou!" And he shook his hood from his face, and had Boardcleaver bare in his hand straightway. Then those three set up a quavering cry of, The Red Lad! the Red Lad! and ran bundling out of the cot; but Boardcleaver was swifter than they. One of the serving-men lost his head just outside the threshold; the Knight stumbled at the brook and fell, and never rose again. The messenger strove hard for the thicket, but the moon was up now, and it was but a few strides of the swift runner of the Dale ere Boardcleaver had taken his life.

The two women stood looking toward the open door the while, and the maiden said faintly and in a quavering voice: "Mother what is it? what has befallen? Tell me, what am I to do?" "Hush, my dear," said the carline, "hush; it is but a minute's waiting after all these years."

Even therewith came a firm footstep to the door, and Osberne stepped quietly over the threshold, bareheaded now, and went straight to Elfhild; and she looked on him and the scared look went out of her face, and nought but the sweetness of joyful love was there. And he cried out: "O my sweet, where now is the Sundering Flood?" And there they were in each other's arms, as though the long years had never been.

Chapter LIII. Strangers Come to Wethermel

Now turns the tale to Wethermel, and tells how that on the morrow of Midsummer, five years to the day since Osberne had bidden them farewell, the folk once more sat without-doors about the porch in the cool of the evening; neither was there any missing of the settled folk of those to whom he had said farewell. For all had thriven there that while. There sat the goodman, more chieftain-like than of old; there sat the goodwife, as kind as ever, and scarce could she be kinder; there sat Bridget, not much aged in the five years; for ever she deemed it a certain thing that her nursling would come back to her.

Lastly, there sat Stephen the Eater, wise of aspect and thoughtful, as if he were awaiting something that should happen which should change much in him; and there were the carles and the queans (with some few children amongst them who had not been there five years ago) who had been familiar to Osberne ere he left the Dale for warfare. It was growing late now, and the twilight was creeping up under a cloudless sky, when those folk saw newcomers wending the lane betwixt the outbowers, and making straight for the house-porch. They were but three, and as they drew nigh it could be seen that they were hooded and cloaked despite the warm night; and one was tall and seemed a stalwarth man, and another was jimp and went daintily, as if it were a young woman, and the third, who forsooth had her face but little hidden, seemed a carline of some three score years and ten.

None of the folk stirred save Stephen the Eater, who rose up as if to welcome the guests; and the tall man spake in a strange high voice that seemed as if it came from the back of his head: "May we three wayfarers be here tonight? For we saw this stead from afar, and it seemed a plenteous house, and we deem it guest-kind." Quoth Stephen: "A free and fair welcome to you; ye shall eat of our dish, and drink of our cup, and lie as the best of us do. Ho, ye folk! now were we best within doors; for our guests shall be both weary and hungry belike."

So into the hall they wended, and the three were shown to a good place amidmost thereof, so that all might see them; and there they sat, the tall man innnermost, nighest to the dais, the young woman by him and the carline outermost. Then came in the meat, which was both plenteous and good, and when all were fulfilled the drink was brought in, and the tall man arose and called a health on Wethermel, and that it might thrive ever. But some men thought that, as he lifted his hand to put the cup to his lips, a gleam of something bright came from under his wayfarer's cloak. And Stephen the Eater called a health on the wayfarers; and then one drank to one thing, one to another, and men waxed merry and gleeful.