I
MIRDATH
THE BEAUTIFUL"And
I cannot touch her face And
I cannot touch her hair, And
I kneel to empty shadows— Just
memories of her grace; And
her voice sings in the winds And
in the sobs of dawn And
among the flowers at night And
from the brooks at sunrise And
from the sea at sunset, And
I answer with vain callings …"It
was the Joy of the Sunset that brought us to speech. I was gone a
long way from my house, walking lonely-wise, and stopping often
that
I view the piling upward of the Battlements of Evening, and to feel
the dear and strange gathering of the Dusk come over all the world
about me.The
last time that I paused, I was truly lost in a solemn joy of the
Glory of the Coming Night; and maybe I laughed a little in my
throat,
standing there alone in the midst of the Dusk upon the World. And,
lo! my content was answered out of the trees that bounded the
country
road upon my right; and it was so as that some one had said: "And
thou also!" in glad understanding, that I laughed again a little
in my throat; as though I had only a half-believing that any true
human did answer my laugh; but rather some sweet Delusion or Spirit
that was tuned to my mood.But
she spoke and called me by my name; and when I had gone to the side
of the road, that I should see her somewhat, and discover whether I
knew her, I saw that she was surely that lady, who for her beauty
was
known through all of that sweet County of Kent as Lady Mirdath the
Beautiful; and a near neighbour to me; for the Estates of her
Guardian abounded upon mine.Yet,
until that time, I had never met her; for I had been so oft and
long
abroad; and so much given to my Studies and my Exercises when at
home, that I had no further Knowledge of her than Rumour gave to me
odd time; and for the rest, I was well content; for as I have given
hint, my books held me, and likewise my Exercises; for I was always
an athlete, and never met the man so quick or so strong as I did
be;
save in some fiction of a tale or in the mouth of a boaster.Now,
I stood instantly with my hat in my hand; and answered her gentle
bantering so well as I might, the while that I peered intent and
wondering at her through the gloom; for truly Rumour had told no
tale
to equal the beauty of this strange maid; who now stood jesting
with
so sweet a spirit, and claiming kinship of Cousinhood with me, as
was
truth, now that I did wake to think.And,
truly, she made no ado; but named me frank by my lad's name, and
gave
laughter and right to me to name her Mirdath, and nothing less or
more—at that time. And she bid me then to come up through the
hedge, and make use of a gap that was her own especial secret, as
she
confessed, when she took odd leave with her maid to some country
frolic, drest as village maids; but not to deceive many, as I dare
believe.And
I came up through the gap in the hedge and stood beside her; and
tall
she had seemed to me, when I looked up at her; and tall she was, in
truth; but indeed I was a great head taller. And she invited me
then
to walk with her to the house, that I meet her Guardian and give
word
to my sorrow that I had so long neglected to make call upon them;
and
truly her eyes to shine with mischief and delight, as she named me
so
for my amissness.But,
indeed, she grew sober in a moment, and she set up her finger to me
to hush, as that she heard somewhat in the wood that lay all the
way
upon our right. And, indeed, something I heard too; for there was
surely a rustling of the leaves, and anon a dead twig crackt with a
sound clear and sharp in the stillness.And
immediately there came three men running out of the wood at me; and
I
called to them sharply to keep off or beware of harm; and I put the
maid to my back with my left hand, and had my oak staff ready for
my
use.But
the three men gave out no word of reply; but ran in at me; and I
saw
somewhat of the gleam of knives; and at that, I moved very glad and
brisk to the attack; and behind me there went shrill and sweet, the
call of a silver whistle; for the Maid was whistling for her dogs;
and maybe the call was also a signal to the men-servants of her
house.Yet,
truly, there was no use in help that was yet to come; for the need
did be then and instant; and I nowise loath to use my strength
before
my sweet cousin. And I stepped forward, briskly, as I have told;
and
the end of my staff I drove into the body of the left-ward man, so
that he dropped like a dead man. And I hit very sharply at the head
of another, and surely crackt it for him; for he made instantly
upon
the earth; but the third man I met with my fist, and neither had he
any great need of a second blow; but went instant to join his
companions, and the fight thus to have ended before it was even
proper begun, and I laughing a little with a proper pride, to know
the bewilderment that I perceived in the way that the Lady Mirdath,
my cousin, stood and regarded me through the dusk of the hushed
even.But,
indeed, there was no time left to us, before there came bounding
up,
three great boar-hounds, that had been loosed to her whistle; and
she
had some ado to keep the brutes off me; and I then to beat them off
the men upon the earth, lest they maul them as they lay. And
directly, there was a noise of men shouting, and the light of
lanthorns in the night, and the footmen of the house to come
running
with lanthorns and cudgels; and knew not whether to deal with me,
or
not, in the first moment, even as the dogs; but when they saw the
men
upon the ground, and learned my name and saw me proper, they kept
well their distance and had no lack of respect; but, indeed, my
sweet
cousin to have the most of any; only that she showed no intent to
keep distance of me; but to have a new and deeper feeling of
kinship
than she at first had shown.And
the men-servants asked what should be done with the foot-pads;
seeing
that they were now recovering. But, indeed, I left the matter,
along
with some silver, to the servants; and very sound justice they
dealt
out to the men; for I heard their cries a good while after we had
gone away.Now,
when we were come up to the Hall, my cousin must take me in to her
Guardian, Sir Alfred Jarles, an old man and venerable that I knew a
little in passing and because our estates abounded. And she praised
me to my face, yet quaintly-wise; and the old man, her Guardian
thanked me most honourably and with a nice courtesy; so that I was
a
welcome house-friend from that time onward.And
I stayed all that evening, and dined, and afterward went out again
into the home-grounds with the Lady Mirdath; and she more friendly
to
me than ever any woman had been; and seemed to me as that she had
known me always. And, truly, I had the same feeling in my heart
towards her; for it was, somehow, as though we knew each the way
and
turn of the other, and had a constant delight to find this thing
and
that thing to be in common; but no surprise; save that so pleasant
a
truth had so natural a discovery.And
one thing there was that I perceived held the Lady Mirdath all that
dear fore-night; and this was, indeed, the way that I had my
pleasure
so easy with the three foot-pads. And she asked me plainly whether
I
was not truly very strong; and when I laughed with young and
natural
pride, she caught my arm suddenly to discover for herself how
strong
I might be. And, surely, she loosed it even the more sudden, and
with
a little gasping of astonishment, because it was so great and hard.
And afterward, she walked by me very silent, and seeming
thoughtful;
but she went never any great way off from me.And,
truly, if the Lady Mirdath had a strange pleasure in my strength, I
had likewise a constant wonder and marvel in her beauty, that had
shown but the more lovely in the candle-light at dinner.But
there were further delights to me in the days that came; for I had
happiness in the way that she had pleasure of the Mystery of the
Evening, and the Glamour of Night, and the Joy of Dawn, and all
suchlike.And
one evening, that I ever remember, as we wandered in the
park-lands,
she began to say—half unthinking—that it was truly an
elves-night. And she stopped herself immediately; as though she
thought I should have no understanding; but, indeed, I was upon
mine
own familiar ground of inward delight; and I replied in a quiet and
usual voice, that the Towers of Sleep would grow that night, and I
felt in my bones that it was a night to find the Giant's Tomb, or
the
Tree with the Great Painted Head, or—And surely I stopped very
sudden; for she gripped me in that moment, and her hand shook as
she
held me; but when I would ask her what ailed, she bid me, very
breathless, to say on, to say on. And, with a half understanding, I
told her that I had but meant to speak of the Moon Garden, that was
an olden and happy fancy of mine.And,
in verity, when I said that, the Lady Mirdath cried out something
in
a strange low voice, and brought me to a halt, that she might face
me. And she questioned me very earnest; and I answered just so
earnest as she; for I was grown suddenly to an excitement, in that
I
perceived she knew also. And, in verity, she told me that she had
knowledge; but had thought that she was alone in the world with her
knowledge of that strange land of her dreams; and now to find that
I
also had travelled in those dear, strange dream lands. And truly
the
marvel of it—the marvel of it! As she to say time and oft. And
again, as we walked, she gave out word that there was little wonder
she had been urged to call to me that night, as she saw me pause
upon
the road; though, indeed, she had learned of our cousin-ship
before,
having seen me go by on my horse pretty oft, and inquired
concerning
me; and mayhap daintily irked that I had so little heed of Lady
Mirdath the Beautiful. But, indeed, I had thought of other matters;
yet had been human enough, had I but met her proper before I see
her.Now
you must not think that I was not utter stirred by the wonder of
this
thing, that we had both a dreamful knowledge of the same matters,
of
which each had thought none other knew. Yet, when I questioned
more,
there was much that had been in my fancies that was foreign to her,
and likewise much that had been familiar to her, that was of no
meaning to me. But though there was this, that brought a little
regret to us, there would be, time and again, some new thing that
one
told, that the other knew and could finish the telling of, to the
gladness and amazement of both.And
so shall you picture us wandering and having constant speech, so
that, hour by hour, we grew gladly aged in dear knowledge and sweet
friendship of the other.And
truly, how the time passed, I know not; but there came presently a
hullabaloo, and the shouts of men's voices and the baying of dogs,
and the gleam of lanthorns, so that I knew not what to think;
until,
very sudden, and with a sweet and strange little laughter, the Lady
Mirdath to perceive that we had missed the hours utter in our
converse; so that her Guardian (made uneasy because of the three
foot-pads) had ordered a search. And we all that time a-wander
together in happy forgetfulness.And
we turned homeward, then, and came towards the lights; but indeed,
the dogs found us before we were come there; and they had grown to
know me now, and leaped about me, barking very friendly; and so in
a
minute the men had discovered us, and were gone back to tell Sir
Jarles that all was well.And
this was the way of our meeting and the growing of our
acquaintance,
and the beginning of my great love for Mirdath the
Beautiful.Now,
from that time onward, evening by evening would I go a-wander along
the quiet and country road that led from my estate to the estate of
Sir Jarles. And always I went inward by the hedge-gap; and oft I
should find the Lady Mirdath walking in that part of the woods; but
always with her great boar-hounds about her; for I had begged that
she do this thing for her sweet safety; and she to seem wishful to
pleasure me; but truly to be just so oft utter perverse in diverse
matters; and to strive to plague me, as though she would discover
how
much I would endure and how far she might go to anger me.And,
truly, well I remember how that one night, coming to the hedge-gap,
I
saw two country-maids come thence out from the woods of Sir
Jarles';
but they were naught to me, and I would have gone upward through
the
gap, as ever; only that, as they passed me, they curtseyed somewhat
over-graceful for rough wenches. And I had a sudden thought, and
came
up to them to see them more anigh; and truly I thought the taller
was
surely the Lady Mirdath. But, indeed, I could not be sure; for when
I
asked who she did be, she only to simper and to curtsey again; and
so
was I very natural all in doubt; but yet sufficient in wonder
(having
some knowledge of the Lady Mirdath) to follow the wenches, the
which
I did.And
they then, very speedy and sedate, as though I were some rack-rape
that they did well to be feared of alone at night; and so came at
last to the village green, where a great dance was a-foot, with
torches, and a wandering fiddler to set the tune; and ale in
plenty.And
the two to join the dance, and danced very hearty; but had only
each
the other for a partner, and had a good care to avoid the torches.
And by this, I was pretty sure that they were truly the Lady
Mirdath
and her maid; and so I took chance when they had danced somewhat my
way, to step over to them, and ask boldly for a dance. But, indeed,
the tall one answered, simpering, that she was promised; and
immediately gave her hand to a great hulking farmer-lout, and went
round the green with him; and well punished she was for her
waywardness; for she had all her skill to save her pretty feet from
his loutish stampings; and very glad she was to meet the end of the
dance.And
I knew now for certainty that it was Mirdath the Beautiful, despite
her plan of disguise, and the darkness and the wench's dress and
the
foot-gear that marred her step so great. And I walked across to
her,
and named her, whispering, by name; and gave her plain word to be
done of this unwisdom, and I would take her home. But she to turn
from me, and she stamped her foot, and went again to the lout; and
when she had suffered another dance with him, she bid him be her
escort a part of the way; the which he was nothing loath of.And
another lad, that was mate to him, went likewise; and in a moment,
so
soon as they were gone away from the light of the torches, the
rough
hind-lads made to set their arms about the waists of the two
wenches,
not wetting who they had for companions. And the Lady Mirdath was
no
longer able to endure, and cried out in her sudden fear and
disgust,
and struck the rough hind that embraced her, so hard that he loosed
her a moment, swearing great oaths. And directly he came back to
her
again, and had her in a moment, to kiss her; and she, loathing him
to
the very death, beat him madly in the face with her hands; but to
no
end, only that I was close upon them. And, in that moment, she
screamed my name aloud; and I caught the poor lout and hit him
once,
but not to harm him overmuch; yet to give him a long memory of me;
and afterward I threw him into the side of the road. But the second
hind, having heard my name, loosed from the tiring-maid, and ran
for
his life; and, indeed, my strength was known all about that
part.And
I caught Mirdath the Beautiful by her shoulders, and shook her very
soundly, in my anger. And afterward, I sent the maid onward; and
she,
having no word from her Mistress to stay, went forward a little;
and
in this fashion we came at last to the hedge-gap, with the Lady
Mirdath very hushed; but yet walking anigh to me, as that she had
some secret pleasure of my nearness. And I led her through the gap,
and so homeward to the Hall; and there bid her good-night at a side
door that she held the key of. And, truly, she bid me good-night in
an utter quiet voice; and was almost as that she had no haste to be
gone from me that night.Yet,
when I met her on the morrow, she was full of a constant impudence
to
me; so that, having her alone to myself, when the dusk was come, I
asked her why she would never be done of her waywardness; because
that I ached to have companionship of her; and, instead, she denied
my need. And, at that, she was at once very gentle; and full of a
sweet and winsome understanding; and surely knew that I wished to
be
rested; for she brought out her harp, and played me dear olden
melodies of our childhood-days all that evening; and so had my love
for her the more intent and glad. And she saw me that night to the
hedge-gap, having her three great boar-hounds with her, to company
her home again. But, indeed, I followed her afterwards, very
silent,
until I saw her safe into the Hall; for I would not have her alone
in
the night; though she believed that I was then far away on the
country road. And as she walked with her dogs, one or another would
run back to me, to nose against me friendly-wise; but I sent them
off
again very quiet; and she had no knowledge of aught; for she to go
singing a love-song quietly all the way home. But whether she loved
me, I could not tell; though she had a nice affection for
me.Now,
on the following evening, I went somewhat early to the gap; and lo!
who should be standing in the gap, talking to the Lady Mirdath; but
a
very clever-drest man, that had a look of the Court about him; and
he, when I approached, made no way for me through the gap; but
stood
firm, and eyed me very insolent; so that I put out my hand, and
lifted him from my way.And
lo! the Lady Mirdath turned a bitterness of speech upon me that
gave
me an utter pain and astonishment; so that I was assured in a
moment
that she had no true love for me, or she had never striven so to
put
me to shame before the stranger, and named me uncouth and brutal to
a
smaller man. And, indeed, you shall perceive how I was in my heart
in
that moment.And
I saw that there was some seeming of justice in what the Lady
Mirdath
said; but yet might the man have shown a better spirit; and
moreover
Mirdath the Beautiful had no true call to shame me, her true friend
and cousin, before this stranger. Yet did I not stop to argue; but
bowed very low to the Lady Mirdath; and afterward I bowed a little
to
the man and made apology; for, indeed, he was neither great nor
strong-made; and I had been better man to have shown courtesy to
him;
at least in the first.And
so, having done justice to my own respect, I turned and went on,
and
left them to their happiness.Now,
I walked then, maybe twenty good miles, before I came to my own
home;
for there was no rest in me all that night, or ever, because that I
was grown deadly in love of Mirdath the Beautiful; and all my
spirit
and heart and body of me pained with the dreadful loss that I was
come so sudden upon.And
for a great week I had my walks in another direction; but in the
end
of that week, I must take my walk along the olden way, that I might
chance to have but a sight of My Lady. And, truly, I had all sight
that ever man did need to put him in dread pain and jealousy; for,
truly, as I came in view of the gap, there was the Lady Mirdath
walking just without the borders of the great wood; and beside her
there walked the clever-drest man of the Court, and she suffered
his
arm around her, so that I knew they were lovers; for the Lady
Mirdath
had no brothers nor any youthful men kin.Yet,
when Mirdath saw me upon the road, she shamed in a moment to be so
caught; for she put her lover's arm from about her, and bowed to
me,
a little changed of colour in the face; and I bowed very low—being
but a young man myself—; and so passed on, with my heart very dead
in me. And as I went, I saw that her lover came again to her, and
had
his arm once more about her; and so, maybe, they looked after me,
as
I went very stiff and desperate; but, indeed, I looked not back on
them, as you may think.And
for a great month then, I went not near to the gap; for my
loveraged
in me, and I was hurt in my pride; and, truly, neither had a
truejustice been
dealt to me by the Lady Mirdath. Yet in that month, my lovewas
a leaven in me, and made slowly a sweetness and a tenderness and
anunderstanding
that were not in me before; and truly Love and Pain doshape
the Character of Man.And
in the end of that time, I saw a little way into Life, with an
understanding heart, and began presently to take my walks again
past
the gap; but truly Mirdath the Beautiful was never to my sight;
though one evening I thought she might be not a great way off; for
one of her great boar-hounds came out of the wood, and down into
the
road to nose against me, very friendly, as a dog oft doth with
me.Yet,
though I waited a good time after the dog had left me, I had no
sight
of Mirdath, and so passed on again, with my heart heavy in me; but
without bitterness, because of the understanding that was begun to
grow in my heart.Now,
there passed two weary and lonely weeks, in which I grew sick to
have
knowledge of the beautiful maid. And, truly, in the end of that
time,
I made a sudden resolving that I would go in through the gap, and
come to the home-grounds about the Hall, and so maybe have some
sight
of her.And
this resolving I had one evening; and I went out immediately, and
came to the gap, and went in through the gap, and so by a long
walking to the gardens about the Hall. And, truly, when I was come
there, I saw a good light of lanthorns and torches, and a great
company of people dancing; and all drest in quaint dress; so that I
knew they had a festival for some cause. And there came suddenly a
horrid dread into my heart that this might be the marriage-dance of
the Lady Mirdath; but, indeed, this was foolishness; for I had
surely
heard of the marriage, if there had been any. And, truly, in a
moment, I remembered that she was come one-and-twenty years of age
on
that day, and to the end of her ward-ship; and this surely to be
festival in honour of the same.And
a very bright and pretty matter it was to watch, save that I was so
heavy in the heart with loneliness and longing; for the company was
great and gay, and the lights plentiful and set all about from the
trees; and in leaf-made arbours about the great lawn. And a great
table spread with eating matters and silver and crystal, and great
lamps of bronze and silver went all a-down one end of the lawn; and
the dance constant upon the other part.And
surely, the Lady Mirdath to step out of the dance, very lovely
drest;
yet seeming, to mine eyes, a little pale in the looming of the
lights. And she to wander to a seat to rest; and, indeed, in a
moment, there to be a dozen youths of the great families of the
country-side, in attendance about her, making talk and laughter,
and
each eager for her favour; and she very lovely in the midst of
them,
but yet, as I did think, lacking of somewhat, and a little
pale-seeming, as I have told; and her glance to go odd-wise beyond
the groupt men about her; so that I understood in a moment that her
lover was not there, and she to be a-lack in the heart for him.
Yet,
why he was not there, I could not suppose, save that he might have
been called back to the Court.And,
surely, as I watched the other young men about her, I burned with a
fierce and miserable jealousy of them; so that I could near have
stept forth and plucked her out from among them, and had her to
walk
with me in the woods, as in the olden days, when she also had
seemed
near to love. But, truly, what use to this? For it was not they who
held her heart, as I saw plain; for I watched her, with an eager
and
lonesome heart, and knew that it was one small man of the Court
that
was lover to her, as I have told.And
I went away again then, and came not near to the gap for three
great
months, because that I could not bear the pain of my loss; but in
the
end of that time, my very pain to urge me to go, and to be worse
than
the pain of not going; so that I found myself one evening in the
gap,
peering, very eager and shaken, across the sward that lay between
the
gap and the woods; for this same place to be as an holy ground to
me;
for there was it that first I saw Mirdath the Beautiful, and surely
lost my heart to her in that one night.And
a great time I stayed there in the gap, waiting and watching
hopelessly. And lo! sudden there came something against me,
touching
my thigh very soft; and when I looked down, it was one of the
boar-hounds, so that my heart leaped, near frightened; for truly My
Lady was come somewhere nigh, as I did think.And,
as I waited, very hushed and watchful; yet with an utter beating
heart; surely I heard a faint and low singing among the trees, so
utter sad. And lo! it was Mirdath singing a broken love song, and
a-wander there in the dark alone, save for her great dogs.And
I harked, with strange pain in me, that she did be so in pain; and
I
ached to bring her ease; yet moved not, but was very still there in
the gap; save that my being was all in turmoil.And
presently, as I harked, there came a slim white figure out from
among
the trees; and the figure cried out something, and came to a quick
pause, as I could see in the half-dark. And lo! in that moment,
there
came a sudden and unreasoned hope into me; and I came up out of the
gap, and was come to Mirdath in a moment, calling very low and
passionate and eager: "Mirdath! Mirdath! Mirdath!"And
this way I came to her; and her great dog that was with me, to
bound
beside me, in thought, mayhap, that it was some game. And when I
came
to the Lady Mirdath, I held out my hands to her, not knowing what I
did; but only the telling of my heart that needed her so utter, and
craved to ease her of her pain. And lo! she put out her arms to me,
and came into mine arms with a little run. And there she bode,
weeping strangely; but yet with rest upon her; even as rest was
come
sudden and wondrous upon me.And
sudden, she moved in mine arms, and slipt her hands to me, very
dear,
and held her lips up to me, like some sweet child, that I kiss her;
but, indeed, she was also a true woman, and in honest and dear love
of me.And
this to be the way of our betrothal; and simple and wordless it
was;
yet sufficient, only that there is no sufficiency in Love.Now,
presently, she loosed herself out of mine arms, and we walked
homeward through the woods, very quiet, and holding hands, as
children do. And I then in a while to ask her about the man of the
Court; and she laughed very sweet into the silence of the wood; but
gave me no answer, save that I wait until we were come to the
Hall.And
when we were come there, she took me into the great hall, and made
a
very dainty and impudent bow, mocking me. And so made me known to
another lady, who sat there, upon her task of embroidering, which
she
did very demure, and as that she had also a dainty Mischief lurking
in her.And
truly, the Lady Mirdath never to be done of naughty laughter, that
made her dearly breathless with delight, and to sway a little, and
set the trembling of pretty sounds in her throat; and surely she
must
pull down two great pistols from an arm-rack, that I fight a duel
to
the death with the lady of the embroidering, who held her face down
over her work, and shook likewise with the wickedness of her
laughter
that she could not hide.And
in the end, the Lady of the Embroidering looked up sudden into my
face; and I then to see somewhat of the mischief in a moment; for
she
had the face of the man of the Court suit, that had been lover to
Mirdath.And
the Lady Mirdath then to explain to me how that Mistress Alison
(which was her name) was a dear and bosom friend, and she it was
that
had been drest in the Court suit to play a prank for a wager with a
certain young man who would be lover to her, an he might. And I
then
to come along, and so speedy to offence that truly I never saw her
face plain, because that I was so utter jealous. And so the Lady
Mirdath had been more justly in anger than I supposed, because that
I
had put hands upon her friend, as I have told.And
this to be all of it, save that they had planned to punish me, and
had met every evening at the gap, to play at lovers, perchance I
should pass, so that I should have greater cause for my jealousy,
and
truly they to have a good revenge upon me; for I had suffered very
great a long while because of it.Yet,
as you do mind, when I came upon them, the Lady Mirdath had a
half-regret, that was very natural, because even then she was in
love
of me, as I of her; and because of this, she drew away, as you
shall
remember, being—as she confessed—suddenly and strangely troubled
and to want me; but afterwards as much set again to my punishment,
because that I bowed so cold and went away. And indeed well I
might.Yet,
truly, all was safe ended now, and I utter thankful and with a mad
delight in the heart; so that I caught up Mirdath, and we danced
very
slow and stately around the great hall, the while that Mistress
Alison whistled us a tune with her mouth, which she could very
clever, as many another thing, I wot.And
each day and all day after this Gladness, Mirdath and I could never
be apart; but must go a-wander always together, here and there, in
an
unending joy of our togetherness.And
in a thousand things were we at one in delight; for we had both of
us
that nature which doth love the blue of eternity which gathers
beyond
the wings of the sunset; and the invisible sound of the starlight
falling upon the world; and the quiet of grey evenings when the
Towers of Sleep are builded unto the mystery of the Dusk; and the
solemn green of strange pastures in the moonlight; and the speech
of
the sycamore unto the beech; and the slow way of the sea when it
doth
mood; and the soft rustling of the night clouds. And likewise had
we
eyes to see the Dancer of the Sunset, casting her mighty robes so
strange; and ears to know that there shakes a silent thunder over
the
Face of Dawn; and much else that we knew and saw and understood
together in our utter joy.Now,
there happened to us about this time a certain adventure that came
near to cause the death of Mirdath the Beautiful; for one day as we
wandered, as ever, like two children in our contentment, I made
remark to Mirdath that there went only two of the great boar-hounds
with us; and she then told me that the third was to the kennels,
being sick.Yet,
scarce had she told me so much; ere she cried out something and
pointed; and lo! I saw that the third hound came towards us, at a
run, yet very strange-seeming in his going. And in a moment,
Mirdath
cried out that the hound was mad; and truly, I saw then that the
brute slavered as he came running.And
in a moment he was upon us, and made never a sound; but leaped at
me
in one instant of time; all before I had any thought of such
intent.
But surely, My Beautiful One had a dreadful love for me, for she
cast
herself at the dog, to save me, calling to the other hounds. And
she
was bitten in a moment by the brute, as she strove to hold him off
from me. But I to have him instant by the neck and the body, and
brake him, so that he died at once; and I cast him to the earth,
and
gave help to Mirdath, that I draw the poison from the
wounds.And
this I did so well as I might, despite that she would have me stop.
And afterwards, I took her into mine arms, and ran very fierce all
the long and weary way to the Hall, and with hot skewers I burned
the
wounds; so that when the doctor came, he to say I have saved her by
my care, if indeed she to be saved. But, truly, she had saved me in
any wise, as you shall think; so that I could never be done of
honour
to her.And
she very pale; but yet to laugh at my fears, and to say that she
soon
to have her health, and the wounds healed very speedy; but, indeed,
it was a long and bitter time before they were proper healed, and
she
so well as ever. Yet, in time, so it was; and an utter weight off
my
heart.And
when Mirdath was grown full strong again, we set our wedding day.
And
well do I mind how she stood there in her bridal dress, on that
day,
so slender and lovely as may Love have stood in the Dawn of Life;
and
the beauty of her eyes that had such sober sweetness in them,
despite
the dear mischief of her nature; and the way of her little feet,
and
the loveliness of her hair; and the dainty rogue-grace of her
movements; and her mouth an enticement, as that a child and a woman
smiled out of the one face. And this to be no more than but an hint
of the loveliness of My Beautiful One.And
so we were married.Mirdath,
My Beautiful One, lay dying, and I had no power to hold Death
backward from such dread intent. In another room, I heard the
little
wail of the child; and the wail of the child waked my wife back
into
this life, so that her hands fluttered white and desperately
needful
upon the coverlid.I
kneeled beside My Beautiful One, and reached out and took her hands
very gentle into mine; but still they fluttered so needful; and she
looked at me, dumbly; but her eyes beseeching.Then
I went out of the room, and called gently to the Nurse; and
theNurse
brought in the child, wrapped very softly in a long, white
robe.And
I saw the eyes of My Beautiful One grow clearer with a
strange,lovely
light; and I beckoned to the Nurse to bring the babe near.My
wife moved her hands very weakly upon the coverlid, and I knew that
she craved to touch her child; and I signed to the Nurse, and took
my
child in mine arms; and the Nurse went out from the room, and so we
three were alone together.Then
I sat very gentle upon the bed; and I held the babe near to My
Beautiful One, so that the wee cheek of the babe touched the white
cheek of my dying wife; but the weight of the child I kept off from
her.And
presently, I knew that Mirdath, My Wife, strove dumbly to reach for
the hands of the babe; and I turned the child more towards her, and
slipped the hands of the child into the weak hands of My Beautiful
One. And I held the babe above my wife, with an utter care; so that
the eyes of my dying One, looked into the young eyes of the child.
And presently, in but a few moments of time; though it had been
someways an eternity, My Beautiful One closed her eyes and lay very
quiet. And I took away the child to the Nurse, who stood beyond the
door. And I closed the door, and came back to Mine Own, that we
have
those last instants alone together.And
the hands of my wife lay very still and white; but presently they
began to move softly and weakly, searching for somewhat; and I put
out my great hands to her, and took her hands with an utter care;
and
so a little time passed.Then
her eyes opened, quiet and grey, and a little dazed seeming; and
she
rolled her head on the pillow and saw me; and the pain of
forgetfulness went out of her eyes, and she looked at me with a
look
that grew in strength, unto a sweetness of tenderness and full
understanding.And
I bent a little to her; and her eyes told me to take her into mine
arms for those last minutes. Then I went very gentle upon the bed,
and lifted her with an utter and tender care, so that she lay
suddenly strangely restful against my breast; for Love gave me
skill
to hold her, and Love gave My Beautiful One a sweetness of ease in
that little time that was left to us.And
so we twain were together; and Love seemed that it had made a truce
with Death in the air about us, that we be undisturbed; for there
came a drowse of rest even upon my tense heart, that had known
nothing but a dreadful pain through the weary hours.And
I whispered my love silently to My Beautiful One, and her eyes
answered; and the strangely beautiful and terrible moments passed
by
into the hush of eternity.And
suddenly, Mirdath My Beautiful One, spoke,—whispering something.
And I stooped gently to hark; and Mine Own spoke again; and lo! it
was to call me by the olden Love Name that had been mine through
all
the utter lovely months of our togetherness.And
I began again to tell her of my love, that should pass beyond
death;
and lo! in that one moment of time, the light went out of her eyes;
and My Beautiful One lay dead in mine arms … My Beautiful
One….
II
THE
LAST REDOUBT
Since
Mirdath, My Beautiful One, died and left me lonely in this world, I
have suffered an anguish, and an utter and dreadful pain of
longing,
such as truly no words shall ever tell; for, in truth, I that had
all
the world through her sweet love and companionship, and knew all
the
joy and gladness of Life, have known such lonesome misery as doth
stun me to think upon.
Yet
am I to my pen again; for of late a wondrous hope has grown in me,
in
that I have, at night in my sleep, waked into the future of this
world, and seen strange things and utter marvels, and known once
more
the gladness of life; for I have learned the promise of the future,
and have visited in my dreams those places where in the womb of
Time,
she and I shall come together, and part, and again come
together—breaking asunder most drearly in pain, and again reuniting
after strange ages, in a glad and mighty wonder.
And
this is the utter strange story of that which I have seen, and
which,
truly, I must set out, if the task be not too great; so that, in
the
setting out thereof, I may gain a little ease of the heart; and
likewise, mayhap, give ease of hope to some other poor human, that
doth suffer, even as I have suffered so dreadful with longing for
Mine Own that is dead.
And
some shall read and say that this thing was not, and some shall
dispute with them; but to them all I say naught, save "Read!"
And having read that which I set down, then shall one and all have
looked towards Eternity with me—unto its very portals. And so to my
telling:
To
me, in this last time of my visions, of which I would tell, it was
not as if I dreamed;
but, as it were, that I
waked there into
the dark, in the
future of this world.
And the sun had died; and for me thus newly waked into that Future,
to look back upon this, our Present Age, was to look back into
dreams
that my soul knew to be of reality; but which to those newly-seeing
eyes of mine, appeared but as a far vision, strangely hallowed with
peacefulness and light.
Always,
it seemed to me when I awaked into the Future, into the Everlasting
Night that lapped this world, that I saw near to me, and girdling
me
all about, a blurred greyness. And presently this, the greyness,
would clear and fade from about me, even as a dusky cloud, and I
would look out upon a world of darkness, lit here and there with
strange sights. And with my waking into that Future, I waked not to
ignorance; but to a full knowledge of those things which lit the
Night Land; even as a man wakes from sleep each morning, and knows
immediately he wakes, the names and knowledge of the Time which has
bred him, and in which he lives. And the same while, a knowledge I
had, as it were sub-conscious, of this Present—this early life,
which now I live so utterly alone.
In
my earliest knowledge of
that place, I was a
youth, seventeen years grown, and my memory tells me that when
first
I waked, or came, as it might be said, to myself, in that Future, I
stood in one of the embrasures of the Last Redoubt—that great
Pyramid of grey metal which held the last millions of this world
from
the Powers of the Slayers.
And
so full am I of the knowledge of that Place, that scarce can I
believe that none here know; and because I have such difficulty, it
may be that I speak over familiarly of those things of which I
know;
and heed not to explain much that it is needful that I should
explain
to those who must read here, in this our present day. For there, as
I
stood and looked out, I was less the man of years of
this age, than the
youth of that,
with the natural knowledge of
that life which I
had gathered by living all my seventeen years of life there;
though,
until that my first vision, I (of this Age) knew not of that other
and Future Existence; yet woke to it so naturally as may a man wake
here in his bed to the shining of the morning sun, and know it by
name, and the meaning of aught else. And yet, as I stood there in
the
vast embrasure, I had also a knowledge, or memory, of this present
life of ours, deep down within me; but touched with a halo of
dreams,
and yet with a conscious longing for One, known even there in a
half
memory as Mirdath.
As
I have said, in my earliest memory, I mind that I stood in an
embrasure, high up in the side of the Pyramid, and looked outwards
through a queer spy-glass to the North-West. Aye, full of youth and
with an adventurous and yet half-fearful heart.
And
in my brain was, as I have told, the knowledge that had come to me
in
all the years of my life in the Redoubt; and yet until that moment,
this Man of this
Present Time had no
knowledge of that future existence; and now I stood and had
suddenly
the knowledge of a life already spent in that strange land, and
deeper within me the misty knowings of this our present Age, and,
maybe, also of some others.
To
the North-West I looked through the queer spy-glass, and saw a
landscape that I had looked upon and pored upon through all the
years
of that life, so that I knew how to name this thing and that thing,
and give the very distances of each and every one from the
"Centre-Point" of the Pyramid, which was that which had
neither length nor breadth, and was made of polished metal in the
Room of Mathematics, where I went daily to my studies.
To
the North-West I looked, and in the wide field of my glass, saw
plain
the bright glare of the fire from the Red Pit, shine upwards
against
the underside of the vast chin of the North-West Watcher—The
Watching Thing of the North-West…. "That which hath Watched
from the Beginning, and until the opening of the Gateway of
Eternity"
came into my thoughts, as I looked through the glass … the words of
Aesworpth, the
Ancient Poet
(though incredibly
future to this our
time). And suddenly they seemed at fault; for I looked deep down
into
my being, and saw, as dreams are seen, the sunlight and splendour
of
this our Present
Age. And I was amazed.
And
here I must make it clear to all that, even as I waked from
this Age, suddenly
into that
life, so must I—that
youth there in the embrasure—have awakened then to the knowledge
of
this far-back life
of ours—seeming to him a vision of the very beginnings of eternity,
in the dawn of the world. Oh! I do but dread I make it not
sufficient
clear that I and he were both
I—the same soul.
He of that far date seeing vaguely the life that
was (that I do now
live in this present Age); and I of this time beholding the life
that
I yet shall live. How utterly strange!
And
yet, I do not know that I speak holy truth to say that I, in that
future time, had no
knowledge of this
life and Age, before that awakening; for I woke to find that I was
one who stood apart from the other youths, in that I had a dim
knowledge—visionary, as it were, of the past, which confounded,
whilst yet it angered, those who were the men of learning of that
age; though of this matter, more anon. But this I do know, that
from
that time, onwards, my knowledge and assuredness of the Past was
tenfold; for this my memory of that life told me.
And
so to further my telling. Yet before I pass onwards, one other
thing
is there of which I shall speak—In the moment in which I waked out
of that youthfulness, into the assured awaredness of
this our Age, in
that moment the hunger of this my love flew to me across the ages;
so
that what had been but a memory-dream, grew to the pain of
Reality, and I knew
suddenly that I
lacked; and from
that time onwards, I went, listening, as even now my life is
spent.
And
so it was that I (fresh-born in that future time) hungered
strangely
for My Beautiful One with all the strength of that new life,
knowing
that she had been mine, and might live again, even as I. And so, as
I
have said, I hungered, and found that I listened.
And
now, to go back from my digression, it was, as I have said, I had
amazement at perceiving, in memory, the unknowable sunshine and
splendour of this age breaking so clear through my hitherto most
vague and hazy visions; so that the ignorance of, Aesworpth was
shouted to me by the things which now I
knew.
And
from that time, onward, for a little space, I was stunned with all
that I knew and guessed and felt; and all of a long while the
hunger
grew for that one I had lost in the early days—she who had sung to
me in those faery days of light, that
had been in verity.
And the especial thoughts of that age looked back with a keen,
regretful wonder into the gulf of forgetfulness.
But,
presently, I turned from the haze and pain of my dream-memories,
once
more to the inconceivable mystery of the Night Land, which I viewed
through the great embrasure. For on none did it ever come with
weariness to look out upon all the hideous mysteries; so that old
and
young watched, from early years to death, the black monstrosity of
the Night Land, which this our last refuge of humanity held at
bay.
To
the right of the Red Pit there lay a long, sinuous glare, which I
knew as the Vale of Red Fire, and beyond that for many dreary miles
the blackness of the Night Land; across which came the coldness of
the light from the Plain of Blue Fire.
And
then, on the very borders of the Unknown Lands, there lay a range
of
low volcanoes, which lit up, far away in the outer darkness, the
Black Hills, where shone the Seven Lights, which neither twinkled
nor
moved nor faltered through Eternity; and of which even the great
spy-glass could make no understanding; nor had any adventurer from
the Pyramid ever come back to tell us aught of them. And here let
me
say, that down in the Great Library of the Redoubt, were the
histories of all those, with their discoveries, who had ventured
out
into the monstrousness of the Night Land, risking not the life
only,
but the spirit of life.
And
surely it is all so strange and wonderful to set out, that I could
almost despair with the contemplation of that which I must achieve;
for there is so much to tell, and so few words given to man by
which
he may make clear that which lies beyond the sight and the present
and general knowings of Peoples.
How
shall you ever know, as I know in verity, of the greatness and
reality and terror of the thing that I would tell plain to all; for
we, with our puny span of recorded life must have great histories
to
tell, but the few bare details we know concerning years that are
but
a few thousands in all; and I must set out to you in the short
pages
of this my life there, a sufficiency of the life that had been, and
the life that was, both within and without that mighty Pyramid, to
make clear to those who may read, the truth of that which I would
tell; and the histories of that great Redoubt dealt not with odd
thousands of years; but with very millions; aye, away back into
what
they of that Age conceived to be the early days of the earth, when
the sun, maybe, still gloomed dully in the night sky of the world.
But of all that went before, nothing, save as myths, and matters to
be taken most cautiously, and believed not by men of sanity and
proved wisdom.
And
I, …how shall I make all this clear to you who may read? The thing
cannot be; and yet I must tell my history; for to be silent before
so
much wonder would be to suffer of too full a heart; and I must even
ease my spirit by this my struggle to tell to all how it was with
me,
and how it will be. Aye, even to the memories which were the
possession of that far future youth, who was indeed I, of his
childhood's days, when his nurse of that Age swung him, and crooned
impossible lullabies of this mythical sun which, according to those
future fairy-tales, had once passed across the blackness that now
lay
above the Pyramid.
Such
is the monstrous futureness of this which I have seen through the
body of that far-off youth.
And
so back to my telling. To my right, which was to the North, there
stood, very far away, the House of Silence, upon a low hill. And in
that House were many lights, and no sound. And so had it been
through
an uncountable Eternity of Years. Always those steady lights, and
no
whisper of sound—not even such as our distance-microphones could
have discovered. And the danger of this House was accounted the
greatest danger of all those Lands.
And
round by the House of Silence, wound the Road Where The Silent Ones
Walk. And concerning this Road, which passed out of the Unknown
Lands, nigh by the Place of the Ab-humans, where was always the
green, luminous mist, nothing was known; save that it was held
that,
of all the works about the Mighty Pyramid, it was, alone, the one
that was bred, long ages past, of healthy human toil and labour.
And
on this point alone, had a thousand books, and more, been writ; and
all contrary, and so to no end, as is ever the way in such
matters.
And
as it was with the Road Where The Silent Ones Walk, so it was with
all those other monstrous things … whole libraries had there been
made upon this and upon that; and many a thousand million mouldered
into the forgotten dust of the earlier world.
I
mind me now that presently I stepped upon the central
travelling-roadway which spanned the one thousandth plateau of the
Great Redoubt. And this lay six miles and thirty fathoms above the
Plain of the Night Land, and was somewhat of a great mile or more
across. And so, in a few minutes, I was at the South-Eastern wall,
and looking out through The Great Embrasure towards the Three
Silver-fire Holes, that shone before the Thing That Nods, away
down,
far in the South-East. Southward of this, but nearer, there rose
the
vast bulk of the South-East Watcher—The Watching Thing of the
South-East. And to the right and to the left of the squat monster
burned the Torches; maybe half-a-mile upon each side; yet
sufficient
light they threw to show the lumbered-forward head of the
never-sleeping Brute.
To
the East, as I stood there in the quietness of the Sleeping-Time on
the One Thousandth Plateau, I heard a far, dreadful sound, down in
the lightless East; and, presently, again—a strange, dreadful
laughter, deep as a low thunder among the mountains. And because
this
sound came odd whiles from the Unknown Lands beyond the Valley of
The
Hounds, we had named that far and never-seen Place "The Country
Whence Comes The Great Laughter." And though I had heard the
sound, many and oft a time, yet did I never hear it without a most
strange thrilling of my heart, and a sense of my littleness, and of
the utter terror which had beset the last millions of the
world.
Yet,
because I had heard the Laughter oft, I paid not over-long
attention
to my thoughts upon it; and when, in a little it died away into
that
Eastern Darkness, I turned my spy-glass upon the Giants' Pit, which
lay to the South of the Giants' Kilns. And these same Kilns were
tended by the giants, and the light of the Kilns was red and
fitful,
and threw wavering shadows and lights across the mouth of the pit;
so
that I saw giants crawling up out of the pit; but not properly
seen,
by reason of the dance of the shadows. And so, because ever there
was
so much to behold, I looked away, presently, to that which was
plainer to be examined.
To
the back of the Giants' Pit was a great, black Headland, that stood
vast, between the Valley of The Hounds (where lived the monstrous
Night Hounds) and the Giants. And the light of the Kilns struck the
brow of this black Headland; so that, constantly, I saw things peer
over the edge, coming forward a little into the light of the Kilns,
and drawing back swiftly into the shadows. And thus it had been
ever,
through the uncounted ages; so that the Headland was known as The
Headland From Which Strange Things Peer; and thus was it marked in
our maps and charts of that grim world.
And
so I could go on ever; but that I fear to weary; and yet, whether I
do weary, or not, I must tell of this country that I see, even now
as
I set my thoughts down, so plainly that my memory wanders in a
hushed
and secret fashion along its starkness, and amid its strange and
dread habitants, so that it is but by an effort I realise me that
my
body is not there in this very moment that I write. And so to
further
tellings:
Before
me ran the Road Where The Silent Ones Walk; and I searched it, as
many a time in my earlier youth had I, with the spy-glass; for my
heart was always stirred mightily by the sight of those Silent
Ones.
And,
presently, alone in all the miles of that night-grey road, I saw
one
in the field of my glass—a quiet, cloaked figure, moving along,
shrouded, and looking neither to right nor left. And thus was it
with
these beings ever. It was told about in the Redoubt that they would
harm no human, if but the human did keep a fair distance from them;
but that it were wise never to come close upon one. And this I can
well believe.
And
so, searching the road with my gaze, I passed beyond this Silent
One,
and past the place where the road, sweeping vastly to the
South-East,
was lit a space, strangely, by the light from the Silver-fire
Holes.
And thus at last to where it swayed to the South of the Dark
Palace,
and thence Southward still, until it passed round to the Westward,
beyond the mountain bulk of the Watching Thing in the South—the
hugest monster in all the visible Night Lands. My spy-glass showed
it
to me with clearness—a living hill of watchfulness, known to us as
The Watcher Of The South. It brooded there, squat and tremendous,
hunched over the pale radiance of the Glowing Dome.
Much,
I know, had been writ concerning this Odd, Vast Watcher; for it had
grown out of the blackness of the South Unknown Lands a million
years
gone; and the steady growing nearness of it had been noted and set
out at length by the men they called Monstruwacans; so that it was
possible to search in our libraries, and learn of the very coming
of
this Beast in the olden-time.
And,
while I mind me, there were even then, and always, men named
Monstruwacans, whose duty it was to take heed of the great Forces,
and to watch the Monsters and the Beasts that beset the great
Pyramid, and measure and record, and have so full a knowledge of
these same that, did one but sway an head in the darkness, the same
matter was set down with particularness in the Records.
And,
so to tell more about the South Watcher. A million years gone, as I
have told, came it out from the blackness of the South, and grew
steadily nearer through twenty thousand years; but so slow that in
no
one year could a man perceive that it had moved.
Yet
it had movement, and had come thus far upon its road to the
Redoubt,
when the Glowing Dome rose out of the ground before it—growing
slowly. And this had stayed the way of the Monster; so that through
an eternity it had looked towards the Pyramid across the pale glare
of the Dome, and seeming to have no power to advance nearer.
And
because of this, much had been writ to prove that there were other
forces than evil at work in the Night Lands, about the Last
Redoubt.
And this I have always thought to be wisely said; and, indeed,
there
to be no doubt to the matter, for there were many things in the
time
of which I have knowledge, which seemed to make clear that, even as
the Forces of Darkness were loose upon the End of Man; so were
there
other Forces out to do battle with the Terror; though in ways most
strange and unthought of by the human mind. And of this I shall
have
more to tell anon.
And
here, before I go further with my telling, let me set out some of
that knowledge which yet remains so clear within my mind and heart.
Of the coming of these monstrosities and evil Forces, no man could
say much with verity; for the evil of it began before the Histories
of the Great Redoubt were shaped; aye, even before the sun had lost
all power to light; though, it must not be a thing of certainty,
that
even at this far time the invisible, black heavens held no warmth
for
this world; but of this I have no room to tell; and must pass on to
that of which I have a more certain knowledge.