BOOK THREE: The Road To The Well At World's End.



CHAPTER 1

An Adventure in the Wood Under the Mountains


Now was the night worn to the time appointed, for it was two hours
after midnight, so he stepped out of his tent clad in all his war gear,
and went straight to the doddered oak, and found Redhead there with but
one horse, whereby Ralph knew that he held to his purpose of going his
ways to Utterbol: so he took him by the shoulders and embraced him,
rough carle as he was, and Redhead kneeled to him one moment of time
and then arose and went off into the night. But Ralph got a-horseback
without delay and rode his ways warily across the highway and into the
wood, and there was none to hinder him. Though it was dark but for the
starlight, there was a path, which the horse, and not Ralph, found, so
that he made some way even before the first glimmer of dawn, all the
more as the wood was not very thick after the first mile, and there
were clearings here and there.

So rode Ralph till the sun was at point to rise, and he was about the
midst of one of those clearings or wood-lawns, on the further side
whereof there was more thicket, as he deemed, then he had yet come to;
so he drew rein and looked about him for a minute. Even therewith he
deemed he heard a sound less harsh than the cry of the jay in the
beech-trees, and shriller than the moaning of the morning breeze in the
wood. So he falls to listening with both ears, and this time deems
that he hears the voice of a woman: and therewith came into his mind
that old and dear adventure of the Wood Perilous; for he was dreamy
with the past eagerness of his deeds, and the long and lonely night.
But yet he doubted somewhat of the voice when it had passed his ears,
so he shook his rein, for he thought it not good to tarry.

Scarce then had his horse stepped out, ere there came a woman running
out of the thicket before him and made toward him over the lawn. So he
gat off his horse at once and went to meet her, leading his horse; and
as he drew nigh he could see that she was in a sorry plight; she had
gathered up her skirts to run the better, and her legs and feet were
naked: the coif was gone from her head and her black hair streamed out
behind her: her gown was rent about the shoulders and bosom, so that
one sleeve hung tattered, as if by the handling of some one.

So she ran up to him crying out: "Help, knight, help us!" and sank
down therewith at his feet panting and sobbing. He stooped down to
her, and raised her up, and said in a kind voice: "What is amiss, fair
damsel, that thou art in such a plight; and what may I for thine avail?
Doth any pursue thee, that thou fleest thus?"

She stood sobbing awhile, and then took hold of his two hands and said:
"O fair lord, come now and help my lady! for as for me, since I am with
thee, I am safe."

"Yea," said he, "Shall I get to horse at once?" And therewith he made
as if he would move away from her; but she still held his hands, and
seemed to think it good so to do, and she spake not for a while but
gazed earnestly into his face. She was a fair woman, dark and sleek
and lithe...for in good sooth she was none other than Agatha, who is
afore told of.

Now Ralph is somewhat abashed by her eagerness, and lets his eyes fall
before hers; and he cannot but note that despite the brambles and
briars of the wood that she had run through, there were no scratches on
her bare legs, and that her arm was unbruised where the sleeve had been
rent off.

At last she spake, but somewhat slowly, as if she were thinking of what
she had to say: "O knight, by thy knightly oath I charge thee come to
my lady and help and rescue her: she and I have been taken by evil men,
and I fear that they will put her to shame, and torment her, ere they
carry her off; for they were about tying her to a tree when I escaped:
for they heeded not me who am but the maid, when they had the mistress
in their hands." "Yea," said he, "and who is thy mistress?" Said the
damsel: "She is the Lady of the Burnt Rock; and I fear me that these
men are of the Riders of Utterbol; and then will it go hard with her;
for there is naught but hatred betwixt my lord her husband and the
tyrant of Utterbol." Said Ralph: "And how many were they?" "O but
three, fair sir, but three," she said; "and thou so fair and strong,
like the war-god himself."

Ralph laughed: "Three to one is long odds," quoth he, "but I will come
with thee when thou hast let go my hands so that I may mount my horse.
But wilt thou not ride behind me, fair damsel; so wearied and spent as
thou wilt be by thy night."

She looked on him curiously, and laid a hand on his breast, and the
hauberk rings tinkled beneath the broidered surcoat; then she said:
"Nay, I had best go afoot before thee, so disarrayed as I am."

Then she let him go, but followed him still with her eyes as he gat him
into the saddle. She walked on beside his horse's head; and Ralph
marvelled of her that for all her haste she had been in, she went
somewhat leisurely, picking her way daintily so as to tread the smooth,
and keep her feet from the rough.

Thus they went on, into the thicket and through it, and the damsel put
the thorns and briars aside daintily as she stepped, and went slower
still till they came to a pleasant place of oak-trees with greensward
beneath them; and then she stopped, and turning, faced Ralph, and spoke
with another voice than heretofore, whereas there was naught rueful or
whining therein, but somewhat both of glee and of mocking as it seemed.
"Sir knight," she said, "I have a word or two for thy ears; and this is
a pleasant place, and good for us to talk together, whereas it is
neither too near to her, nor too far from her, so that I can easily
find my way back to her. Now, lord, I pray thee light down and listen
to me." And therewith she sat down on the grass by the bole of a great
oak.

"But thy lady," said Ralph, "thy lady?" "O sir," she said; "My lady
shall do well enough: she is not tied so fast, but she might loose
herself if the need were pressing. Light down, dear lord, light down!"

But Ralph sat still on his horse, and knit his brows, and said: "What
is this, damsel? hast thou been playing a play with me? Where is thy
lady whom thou wouldst have me deliver? If this be but game and play,
let me go my ways; for time presses, and I have a weighty errand on
hand."

She rose up and came close to him, and laid a hand on his knee and
looked wistfully into his face as she said: "Nay then, I can tell thee
all the tale as thou sittest in thy saddle; for meseems short will be
thy farewell when I have told it." And she sighed withal.

Then Ralph was ashamed to gainsay her, and she now become gentle and
sweet and enticing, and sad withal; so he got off his horse and tied
him to a tree, and went and stood by the damsel as she lay upon the
grass, and said: "I prithee tell thy tale and let me depart if there be
naught for me to do."

Then she said: "This is the first word, that as to the Red Rock, I
lied; and my lady is the Queen of Utterbol, and I am her thrall, and it
is I who have drawn thee hither from the camp."

The blood mounted to Ralph's brow for anger; when he called to mind how
he had been led hither and thither on other folk's errands ever since
he left Upmeads. But he said naught, and Agatha looked on him timidly
and said: "I say I am her thrall, and I did it to serve her and because
she bade me." Said Ralph roughly: "And Redhead, him whom I saved from
torments and death; dost thou know him? didst thou know him?"

"Yea," she said, "I had from him what he had learned concerning thee
from the sergeants and others, and then I put words into his mouth."
"Yea then," quoth Ralph, "then he also is a traitor!" "Nay, nay," she
said, "he is a true man and loveth thee, and whatever he hath said to
thee he troweth himself. Moreover, I tell thee here and now that all
that he told thee of the affairs of Utterbol, and thine outlook there,
is true and overtrue."

She sprang to her feet therewith, and stood before him and clasped her
hands before him and said: "I know that thou seekest the Well at the
World's End and the deliverance of the damsel whom the Lord ravished
from the wild man: now I swear it by thy mouth, that if thou go to
Utterbol thou art undone and shalt come to the foulest pass there, and
moreover that so going thou shalt bring the uttermost shame and
torments on the damsel."

Said Ralph: "Yea, but what is her case as now? tell me."

Quoth Agatha: "She is in no such evil case; for my lady hateth her not
as yet, or but little; and, which is far more, my lord loveth her after
his fashion, and withal as I deem feareth her; for though she hath
utterly gainsaid his desire, he hath scarce so much as threatened her.
A thing unheard of. Had it been another woman she had by this time
known all the bitterness that leadeth unto death at Utterbol." Ralph
paled and he scowled on her, then he said: "And how knowest thou all
the privity of the Lord of Utterbol? who telleth thee of all this?"
She smiled and spake daintily: "Many folk tell me that which I would
know; and that is because whiles I conquer the tidings with my wits,
and whiles buy it with my body. Anyhow what I tell thee is the very
sooth concerning this damsel, and this it is: that whereas she is but
in peril, she shall be in deadly peril, yea and that instant, if thou
go to Utterbol, thou, who art her lover..." "Nay," said Ralph angrily,
"I am not her lover, I am but her well-willer." "Well," quoth Agatha
looking down and knitting her brows, "when thy good will towards her
has become known, then shall she be thrown at once into the pit of my
lord's cruelty. Yea, to speak sooth, even as it is, for thy sake (for
her I heed naught) I would that the lord might find her gone when he
cometh back to Utterbol."

"Yea," said Ralph, reddening, "and is there any hope for her getting
clear off?" "So I deem," said Agatha. She was silent awhile and then
spake in a low voice: "It is said that each man that seeth her loveth
her; yea, and will befriend her, even though she consent not to his
desire. Maybe she hath fled from Utterbol."

Ralph stood silent awhile with a troubled face; and then he said: "Yet
thou hast not told me the why and wherefore of this play of thine, and
the beguiling me into fleeing from the camp. Tell it me that I may
pardon thee and pass on."

She said: "By thine eyes I swear that this is sooth, and that there is
naught else in it than this: My lady set her love, when first she set
her eyes upon thee--as forsooth all women must: as for me, I had not
seen thee (though I told my lady that I had) till within this hour that
we met in the wood."

She sighed therewith, and with her right hand played with the rent
raiment about her bosom. Then she said: "She deemed that if thou
camest a mere thrall to Utterbol, though she might command thy body,
yet she would not gain thy love; but that if perchance thou mightest
see her in hard need, and evilly mishandled, and mightest deliver her,
there might at least grow up pity in thee for her, and that love might
come thereof, as oft hath happed aforetime; for my lady is a fair
woman. Therefore I, who am my lady's servant and thrall, and who, I
bid thee remember, had not seen thee, took upon me to make this
adventure, like to a minstrel's tale done in the flesh. Also I spake
to my lord and told him thereof; and though he jeered at my lady to me,
he was content, because he would have her set her heart on thee
utterly; since he feared her jealousy, and would fain be delivered of
it, lest she should play some turn to his newly beloved damsel and do
her a mischief. Therefore did he set thee free (in words) meaning,
when he had thee safe at Utterbol again (as he nowise doubted to have
thee) to do as he would with thee, according as occasion might serve.
For at heart he hateth thee, as I could see well. So a little before
thou didst leave the camp, we, the Queen and I, went privily into a
place of the woods but a little way hence. There I disarrayed both my
lady and myself so far as was needful for the playing out the play
which was to have seemed to thee a real adventure. Then came I to thee
as if by chance hap, that I might bring thee to her; and if thou hadst
come, we had a story for thee, whereby thou mightest not for very
knighthood forbear to succour her and bring her whither she would,
which in the long run had been Utterbol, but for the present time was
to have been a certain strong-house appertaining to Utterbol, and nigh
unto it. This is all the tale, and now if thou wilt, thou mayst pardon
me; or if thou wilt, thou mayst draw out thy sword and smite off my
head. And forsooth I deem that were the better deed."

She knelt down before him and put her palms together, and looked up
at him beseechingly. His face darkened as he beheld her thus, but it
cleared at last, and he said: "Damsel, thou wouldst turn out but a
sorry maker, and thy play is naught. For seest thou not that I should
have found out all the guile at Utterbol, and owed thy lady hatred
rather than love thereafter."

"Yea," she said, "but my lady might have had enough of thy love by
then, and would belike have let thee alone to fall into the hands of
the Lord. Lo now! I have delivered thee from this, so that thou art
quit both of the Lord and the lady and me: and again I say that thou
couldst scarce have missed, both thou and thy damsel, of a miserable
ending at Utterbol."

"Yea," said Ralph, softly, and as if speaking to himself, "yet am I
lonely and unholpen." Then he turned to Agatha and said: "The end of
all this is that I pardon thee, and must depart forthwith; for when ye
two come back to the camp, then presently will the hunt be up."

She rose from her knees, and stood before him humbly and said: "Nay, I
shall requite thee thy pardon thus far, that I will fashion some tale
for my lady which will keep us in the woods two days or three; for we
have provided victual for our adventure."

Said Ralph: "I may at least thank thee for that, and will trust in
thee to do so much." Quoth she: "Then might I ask a reward of thee:
since forsooth other reward awaiteth me at Utterbol."

"Thou shalt have it," said Ralph. She said: "The reward is that thou
kiss me ere we part."

"It must needs be according to my word," said Ralph, "yet I must tell
thee that my kiss will bear but little love with it."

She answered naught but laid her hands on his breast and put up her
face to him, and he kissed her lips. Then she said: "Knight, thou hast
kissed a thrall and a guileful woman, yet one that shall smart for
thee; therefore grudge not the kiss nor repent thee of thy kindness."

"How shalt thou suffer?" said he. She looked on him steadfastly a
moment, and said: "Farewell! may all good go with thee." Therewith she
turned away and walked off slowly through the wood, and somewhat he
pitied her, and sighed as he got into his saddle; but he said to
himself: "How might I help her? Yet true it is that she may well be
in an evil case: I may not help everyone." Then he shook his rein and
rode his ways.



CHAPTER 2

Ralph Rides the Wood Under the Mountains


A long way now rode Ralph, and naught befell him but the fashion of the
wood. And as he rode, the heart within him was lightened that he had
escaped from all the confusion and the lying of those aliens, who knew
him not, nor his kindred, and yet would all use him each for his own
ends: and withal he was glad that he was riding all alone upon his
quest, but free, unwounded, and well weaponed.

The wood was not very thick whereas he rode, so that he could see
the whereabouts of the sun, and rode east as far as he could judge
it. Some little victual he had with him, and he found woodland fruit
ripening here and there, and eked out his bread therewith; neither did
water fail him, for he rode a good way up along a woodland stream that
cleft the thicket, coming down as he deemed from the mountains, and
thereby he made the more way: but at last he deemed that he must needs
leave it, as it turned overmuch to the north. The light was failing
when he came into a woodlawn amidst of which was a pool of water, and
all that day he had had no adventure with beast or man, since he had
sundered from Agatha. So he lay down and slept there with his naked
sword by his side, and awoke not till the sun was high in the heavens
next morning. Then he arose at once and went on his way after he had
washed him, and eaten a morsel.

After a little the thick of the wood gave out, and the land was no
longer flat, as it had been, but was of dales and of hills, not blinded
by trees. In this land he saw much deer, as hart and wild swine; and
he happened also on a bear, who was about a honey tree, and had taken
much comb from the wild bees. On him Ralph drew his sword and drave
him exceeding loth from his purchase, so that the knight dined off the
bear's thieving. Another time he came across a bent where on the south
side grew vines well fruited, and the grapes a-ripening; and he ate
well thereof before he went on his way.

Before nightfall he came on that same stream again, and it was now
running straight from the east; so he slept that night on the bank
thereof. On the morrow he rode up along it a great way, till again it
seemed to be coming overmuch from the north; and then he left it,
and made on east as near as he could guess it by the sun.

Now he passed through thickets at whiles not very great, and betwixt
them rode hilly land grassed mostly with long coarse grass, and with
whin and thorn-trees scattered about. Thence he saw again from time to
time the huge wall of the mountains rising up into the air like a great
black cloud that would swallow up the sky, and though the sight was
terrible, yet it gladdened him, since he knew that he was on the right
way. So far he rode, going on the whole up-hill, till at last there
was a great pine-wood before him, so that he could see no ending to it
either north or south.

It was now late in the afternoon, and Ralph pondered whether he should
abide the night where he was and sleep the night there, or whether he
should press on in hope of winning to some clear place before dark. So
whereas he was in a place both rough and waterless, he deemed it better
to go on, after he had rested his horse and let him bite the herbage a
while. Then he rode his ways, and entered the wood and made the most
of the way.



CHAPTER 3

Ralph Meeteth With Another Adventure in the Wood Under the Mountain


Soon the wood grew very thick of pine-trees, though there was no
undergrowth, so that when the sun sank it grew dark very speedily; but
he still rode on in the dusk, and there were but few wild things, and
those mostly voiceless, in the wood, and it was without wind and very
still. Now he thought he heard the sound of a horse going behind him
or on one side, and he wondered whether the chace were up, and hastened
what he might, till at last it grew black night, and he was constrained
to abide. So he got off his horse, and leaned his back against a tree,
and had the beast's reins over his arm; and now he listened again
carefully, and was quite sure that he could hear the footsteps of some
hard-footed beast going nowise far from him. He laughed inwardly, and
said to himself: "If the chacer were to pass but three feet from my
nose he should be none the wiser but if he hear me or my horse." And
therewith he cast a lap of his cloak over the horse's head, lest he
should whinny if he became aware of the other beast; and so there he
stood abiding, and the noise grew greater till he could hear clearly
the horse-hoofs drawing nigh, till they came very nigh, and then
stopped.

Then came a man's voice that said: "Is there a man anigh in the wood?"

Ralph held his peace till he should know more; and the voice spake
again in a little while: "If there be a man anigh let him be sure that
I will do him no hurt; nay, I may do him good, for I have meat with
me." Clear was the voice, and as sweet as the April blackbird sings.
It spake again: "Naught answereth, yet meseemeth I know surely that a
man is anigh; and I am aweary of the waste, and long for fellowship."

Ralph hearkened, and called to mind tales of way-farers entrapped
by wood-wives and evil things; but he thought: "At least this is no
sending of the Lord of Utterbol, and, St. Nicholas to aid, I have
little fear of wood-wights. Withal I shall be but a dastard if I answer
not one man, for fear of I know not what." So he spake in a loud and
cheerful voice: "Yea, there is a man anigh, and I desire thy
fellowship, if we might but meet. But how shall we see each other in
the blackness of the wildwood night?"

The other laughed, and the laugh sounded merry and sweet, and the
voice said: "Hast thou no flint and fire-steel?" "No," said Ralph. "But
I have," said the voice, "and I am fain to see thee, for thy voice
soundeth pleasant to me. Abide till I grope about for a stick or two."

Ralph laughed in turn, as he heard the new-comer moving about; then
he heard the click of the steel on the flint, and saw the sparks shower-
ing down, so that a little piece of the wood grew green again to his
eyes. Then a little clear flame sprang up, and therewith he saw the
tree-stems clearly, and some twenty yards from him a horse, and a man
stooping down over the fire, who sprang up now and cried out: "It is a
knight-at-arms! Come hither, fellow of the waste; it is five days since
I have spoken to a child of Adam; so come nigh and speak to me, and
as a reward of thy speech thou shalt have both meat and firelight."

"That will be well paid," said Ralph laughing, and he stepped forward
leading his horse, for now the wood was light all about, as the fire
waxed and burned clear; so that Ralph could see that the new-comer was
clad in quaintly-fashioned armour after the fashion of that land, with
a bright steel sallet on the head, and a long green surcoat over the
body armour. Slender of make was the new-comer, not big nor tall of
stature.

Ralph went up to him hastily, and merrily put his hand on his shoulder,
and kissed him, saying: "The kiss of peace in the wilderness to thee!"
And he found him smooth-faced and sweet-breathed.

But the new comer took his hand and led him to where the firelight was
brightest and looked on him silently a while; and Ralph gave back the
look. The strange-wrought sallet hid but little of the new comer's
face, and as Ralph looked thereon a sudden joy came into his heart, and
he cried out: "O, but I have kissed thy face before! O, my friend, my
friend!"

Then spake the new-comer and said: "Yea, I am a woman, and I was thy
friend for a little while at Bourton Abbas, and at the want-ways of the
Wood Perilous."

Then Ralph cast his arms about her and kissed her again; but she
withdrew her from him, and said: "Help me, my friend, that we may
gather sticks to feed our fire, lest it die and the dark come again so
that we see not each other's faces, and think that we have but met in a
dream."

Then she busied herself with gathering the kindling; but presently she
looked up at him, and said: "Let us make the wood shine wide about,
for this is a feastful night."

So they gathered a heap of wood and made the fire great; and then Ralph
did off his helm and hauberk and the damsel did the like, so that he
could see the shapeliness of her uncovered head. Then they sat down
before the fire, and the damsel drew meat and drink from her
saddle-bags, and gave thereof to Ralph, who took it of her and her hand
withal, and smiled on her and said: "Shall we be friends together as
we were at Bourton Abbas and the want-ways of the Wood Perilous?" She
shook her head and said: "If it might be! but it may not be. Not many
days have worn since then; but they have brought about changed days."
He looked on her wistfully and said: "But thou wert dear to me then."

"Yea," she said, "and thou to me; but other things have befallen, and
there is change betwixt."

"Nay, what change?" said Ralph.

Even by the firelight he saw that she reddened as she answered: "I was
a free woman then; now am I but a runaway thrall." Then Ralph laughed
merrily, and said, "Then are we brought the nigher together, for I also
am a runaway thrall."

She smiled and looked down: then she said: "Wilt thou tell me how
that befell?"

"Yea," said he, "but I will ask thee first a question or two." She
nodded a yeasay, and looked on him soberly, as a child waiting to say
its task.

Said Ralph: "When we parted at the want-ways of the Wood Perilous thou
saidst that thou wert minded for the Well at the World's End, and to
try it for life or death. But thou hadst not then the necklace, which
now I see thee bear, and which, seest thou! is like to that about my
neck. Wilt thou tell me whence thou hadst it?"

She said: "Yea; it was given unto me by a lady, mighty as I deem, and
certainly most lovely, who delivered me from an evil plight, and a
peril past words, but whereof I will tell thee afterwards. And she it
was who told me of the way to the Well at the World's End, and many
matters concerning them that seek it, whereof thou shalt wot soon."

Said Ralph: "As to how thou wert made a thrall thou needest not to
tell me; for I have learned that of those that had to do with taking
thee to Utterbol. But tell me; here are met we two in the pathless
wilds, as if it were on the deep sea, and we two seeking the same
thing. Didst thou deem that we should meet, or that I should seek
thee?"

Now was the fire burning somewhat low, but he saw that she looked
on him steadily; yet withal her sweet voice trembled a little as she
answered: "Kind friend, I had a hope that thou wert seeking me and
wouldst find me: for indeed that fairest of women who gave me the beads
spake to me of thee, and said that thou also wouldst turn thee to the
quest of the Well at the World's End; and already had I deemed thine
eyes lucky as well as lovely. But tell me, my friend, what has befallen
that lady that she is not with thee? For in such wise she spake of
thee, that I deemed that naught would sunder you save death."

"It is death that hath sundered us," said Ralph.

Then she hung her head, and sat silent a while, neither did he speak
till she had risen up and cast more wood upon the fire; and she stood
before it with her back towards him. Then he spake to her in a
cheerful voice and said: "Belike we shall be long together: tell me
thy name; is it not Dorothy?" She turned about to him with a smiling
face, and said: "Nay lord, nay: did I not tell thee my name before?
They that held me at the font bid the priest call me Ursula, after the
Friend of Maidens. But what is thy name?"

"I am Ralph of Upmeads," quoth he; and sat a while silent, pondering
his dream and how it had betrayed him as to her name, when it had told
him much that he yet deemed true.

She came and sat down by him again, and said to him: "Thy questions
I have answered; but thou hast not yet told me the tale of thy capti-
vity." Her voice sounded exceeding sweet to him, and he looked on
her face and spake as kindly as he knew how, and said: "A short tale
it is to-night at least: I came from Whitwall with a Company of Chap-
men, and it was thee I was seeking and the Well at the World's End.
All went well with me, till I came to Goldburg, and there I was be-
trayed by a felon, who had promised to lead me safe to Utterness, and
tell me concerning the way unto the Well. But he sold me to the Lord
of Utterbol, who would lead me to his house; which irked me not, at
first, because I looked to find thee there. Thereafter, if for shame I
may tell the tale, his lady and wife cast her love upon me, and I was
entangled in the nets of guile: yet since I was told, and believed that
it would be ill both for thee and for me if I met thee at Utterbol, I
took occasion to flee away, I will tell thee how another while."

She had turned pale as she heard him, and now she said: "It is indeed
God's mercy that thou camest not to Utterbol nor foundest me there, for
then had both we been undone amidst the lusts of those two; or that
thou camest not there to find me fled, else hadst thou been undone. My
heart is sick to think of it, even as I sit by thy side."

Said Ralph: "Thy last word maketh me afraid and ashamed to ask thee a
thing. But tell me first, is that Lord of Utterbol as evil as men's fear
would make him? for no man is feared so much unless he is deemed
evil."

She was silent a while, and then she said: "He is so evil that it
might be deemed that he has been brought up out of hell."

Then Ralph looked sore troubled, and he said: "Dear friend, this is
the thing hard for me to say. In what wise did they use thee at
Utterbol? Did they deal with thee shamefully?" She answered him
quietly: "Nay," she said, "fear not! no shame befell me, save that I
was a thrall and not free to depart. Forsooth," she said, smiling, "I
fled away timely before the tormentors should be ready. Forsooth it is
an evil house and a mere piece of hell. But now we are out of it and
free in the wildwood, so let us forget it; for indeed it is a grief to
remember it. And now once more let us mend the fire, for thy face is
growing dim to me, and that misliketh me. Afterwards before we lie
down to sleep we will talk a little of the way, whitherward we shall
turn our faces to-morrow."

So they cast on more wood, and pineapples, and sweet it was to Ralph to
see her face come clear again from out the mirk of the wood. Then they
sat down again together and she said: "We two are seeking the Well at
the World's End; now which of us knows more of the way? who is to lead,
and who to follow?" Said Ralph: "If thou know no more than I, it is
little that thou knowest. Sooth it is that for many days past I have
sought thee that thou mightest lead me."

She laughed sweetly, and said: "Yea, knight, and was it for that cause
that thou soughtest me, and not for my deliverance?" He said soberly:
"Yet in very deed I set myself to deliver thee." "Yea," she said, "then
since I am delivered, I must needs deem of it as if it were through thy
deed. And as I suppose thou lookest for a reward therefor, so thy
reward shall be, that I will lead thee to the Well at the World's End.
Is it enough?" "Nay," said Ralph. They held their peace a minute, then
she said: "Maybe when we have drunk of that Water and are coming
back, it will be for thee to lead. For true it is that I shall scarce know
whither to wend; since amidst of my dreaming of the Well, and of...other
matters, my home that was is gone like a dream."

He looked at her, but scarce as if he were heeding all her words. Then
he spoke: "Yea, thou shalt lead me. I have been led by one or another
ever since I have left Upmeads." Now she looked on him somewhat
ruefully, and said: "Thou wert not hearkening e'en now; so I say it
again, that the time shall come when thou shalt lead me."

In Ralph's mind had sprung up again that journey from the Water of the
Oak-tree; so he strove with himself to put the thought from him, and
sighed and said: "Dost thou verily know much of the way?" She nodded
yeasay. "Knowest thou of the Rock of the Fighting Man?" "Yea," she
said. "And of the Sage that dwelleth in this same wood?" "Most
surely," she said, "and to-morrow evening or the morrow after we shall
find him; for I have been taught the way to his dwelling; and I wot
that he is now called the Sage of Swevenham. Yet I must tell thee that
there is some peril in seeking to him; whereas his dwelling is known of
the Utterbol riders, who may follow us thither. And yet again I deem
that he will find some remedy thereto."

Said Ralph: "Whence didst thou learn all this, my friend?" And his
face grew troubled again; but she said simply: "She taught it to me
who spake to me in the wood by Hampton under Scaur."

She made as if she noted not the trouble in his face, but said: "Put
thy trust in this, that here and with me thou art even now nigher to
the Well at the World's End than any other creature on the earth. Yea,
even if the Sage of Swevenham be dead or gone hence, yet have I to-
kens to find the Rock of the Fighting Man, and the way through the
mountains, though I say not but that he may make it all clearer. But
now I see thee drooping with the grief of days bygone; and I deem also
that thou art weary with the toil of the way. So I rede thee lie down
here in the wilderness and sleep, and forget grief till to-morrow is a
new day."

"Would it were come," said he, "that I might see thy face the clearer;
yet I am indeed weary."

So he went and fetched his saddle and lay down with his head thereon;
and was presently asleep. But she, who had again cast wood on the
fire, sat by his head watching him with a drawn sword beside her, till
the dawn of the woodland began to glimmer through the trees: then she
also laid herself down and slept.



CHAPTER 4

They Ride the Wood Under the Mountains


When Ralph woke on the morrow it was broad day as far as the trees
would have it so. He rose at once, and looked about for his fellow,
but saw her not, and for some moments of time he thought he had but
dreamed of her; but he saw that the fire had been quickened from its
embers, and close by lay the hauberk and strange-fashioned helm, and
the sword of the damsel, and presently he saw her coming through the
trees barefoot, with the green-sleeved silken surcoat hanging below the
knees and her hair floating loose about her. She stepped lightly up to
Ralph with a cheerful smiling countenance and a ruddy colour in her
cheeks, but her eyes moist as if she could scarce keep back the tears
for joy of the morning's meeting. He thought her fairer than erst, and
made as if he would put his arms about her, but she held a little aloof
from him, blushing yet more. Then she said in her sweet clear voice:
"Hail fellow-farer! now begins the day's work. I have been down
yonder, and have found a bright woodland pool, to wash the night off
me, and if thou wilt do in likewise and come back to me, I will dight
our breakfast meantime, and will we speedily to the road." He did as
she bade him, thinking of her all the while till he came back to her
fresh and gay. Then he looked to their horses and gave them fodder
gathered from the pool-side, and so turned to Ursula and found her with
the meat ready dight; so they ate and were glad.

When they had broken their fast Ralph went to saddle the horses, and
coming back found Ursula binding up her long hair, and she smiled on
him and said: "Now we are for the road I must be an armed knight again:
forsooth I unbound my hair e'en now and let my surcoat hang loose about
me in token that thou wottest my secret. Soothly, my friend, it irks
me that now we have met after a long while, I must needs be clad thus
graceless. But need drave me to it, and withal the occasion that was
given to me to steal this gay armour from a lad at Utterbol, the nephew
of the lord; who like his eme was half my lover, half my tyrant. Of
all which I will tell thee hereafter, and what wise I must needs steer
betwixt stripes and kisses these last days. But now let us arm and to
horse. Yet first lo you, here are some tools that in thine hands shall
keep us from sheer famine: as for me I am no archer; and forsooth no
man-at-arms save in seeming."

Therewith she showed him a short Turk bow and a quiver of arrows, which
he took well pleased. So then they armed each the other, and as she
handled Ralph's wargear she said: "How well-wrought and trusty is this
hauberk of thine, my friend; my coat is but a toy to it, with its gold
and silver rings and its gemmed collar: and thy plates be thick and
wide and well-wrought, whereas mine are little more than adornments to
my arms and legs."

He looked on her lovingly and loved her shapely hands amidst the dark
grey mail, and said: "That is well, dear friend, for since my breast
is a shield for thee it behoves it to be well covered." She looked at
him, and her lips trembled, and she put out her hand as if to touch his
cheek, but drew it back again and said: "Come now, let us to horse,
dear fellow in arms."

So they mounted and went their ways through a close pine-wood, where
the ground was covered with the pine-tree needles, and all was still
and windless. So as they rode said Ursula: "I seek tokens of the way
to the Sage of Swevenham. Hast thou seen a water yesterday?" "Yea,"
said Ralph, "I rode far along it, but left it because I deemed that it
turned north overmuch." "Thou wert right," she said, "besides that thy
turning from it hath brought us together; for it would have brought
thee to Utterbol at last. But now have we to hit upon another that
runneth straight down from the hills: not the Great Mountains, but the
high ground whereon is the Sage's dwelling. I know not whether the
ride be long or short; but the stream is to lead us."

On they rode through the wood, wherein was little change for hours; and
as they rested Ursula gave forth a deep breath, as one who has cast off
a load of care. And Ralph said: "Why sighest thou, fellow-farer?"
"O," she said, "it is for pleasure, and a thought that I had: for a
while ago I was a thrall, living amongst fears that sickened the heart;
and then a little while I was a lonely wanderer, and now...Therefore I
was thinking that if ever I come back to mine own land and my home, the
scent of a pine-wood shall make me happy."

Ralph looked on her eagerly, but said naught for a while; but at last
he spoke: "Tell me, friend," said he, "if we be met by strong-thieves
on the way, what shall we do then?"

"It is not like to befall," she said, "for men fear the wood, therefore
is there little prey for thieves therein: but if we chance on them,
the token of Utterbol on mine armour shall make them meek enough."
Then she fell silent a while, and spoke again: "True it is that we may
be followed by the Utterbol riders; for though they also fear the wood,
they fear it not so much as they fear their Lord. Howbeit, we be well
ahead, and it is little like that we shall be overtaken before we have
met the Sage; and then belike he shall provide."

"Yea," said Ralph, "but what if the chase come up with us: shall we
suffer us to be taken alive?" She looked on him solemnly, laid her
hand on the beads about her neck, and answered: "By this token we must
live as long as we may, whatsoever may befall; for at the worst may
some road of escape be opened to us. Yet O, how far easier it were to
die than to be led back to Utterbol!"

A while they rode in silence, both of them: but at last spake Ralph,
but slowly and in a dull and stern voice: "Maybe it were good that
thou told me somewhat of the horrors and evil days of Utterbol?"
"Maybe," she said, "but I will not tell thee of them. Forsooth there
are some things which a man may not easily tell to a man, be he never
so much his friend as thou art to me. But bethink thee" (and she
smiled somewhat) "that this gear belieth me, and that I am but a woman;
and some things there be which a woman may not tell to a man, nay, not
even when he hath held her long in his arms." And therewith she flushed
exceedingly. But he said in a kind voice: "I am sorry that I asked
thee, and will ask thee no more thereof." She smiled on him friendly,
and they spake of other matters as they rode on.

But after a while Ralph said: "If it were no misease to thee to tell
me how thou didst fall into the hands of the men of Utterbol, I were
fain to hear the tale."

She laughed outright, and said: "Why wilt thou be forever harping on
the time of my captivity, friend? And thou who knowest the story
somewhat already? Howbeit, I may tell thee thereof without
heart-burning, though it be a felon tale."

He said, somewhat shame-facedly: "Take it not ill that I am fain to
hear of thee and thy life-days, since we are become fellow-farers."

"Well," she said, "this befell outside Utterbol, so I will tell thee.

"After I had stood in the thrall-market at Cheaping Knowe, and not been
sold, the wild man led me away toward the mountains that are above
Goldburg; and as we drew near to them on a day, he said to me that he
was glad to the heart-root that none had cheapened me at the said
market; and when I asked him wherefore, he fell a weeping as he rode
beside me, and said: 'Yet would God that I had never taken thee.' I
asked what ailed him, though indeed I deemed that I knew. He said:
'This aileth me, that though thou art not of the blood wherein I am
bound to wed, I love thee sorely, and would have thee to wife; and now
I deem that thou wilt not love me again.' I said that he guessed
aright, but that if he would do friendly with me, I would be no less
than a friend to him. 'That availeth little,' quoth he; 'I would have
thee be mine of thine own will.' I said that might not be, that I could
love but one man alone. 'Is he alive?' said he. 'Goodsooth, I hope
so,' said I, 'but if he be dead, then is desire of men dead within me.'

"So we spake, and he was downcast and heavy of mood; but thence-
forward was he no worse to me than a brother. And he proffered it to
lead me back, if I would, and put me safely on the way to Whitwall; but,
as hou wottest, I had need to go forward, and no need to go back.

"Thus we entered into the mountains of Goldburg; but one morning,
when he arose, he was heavier of mood than his wont, and was restless
withal, and could be steadfast neither in staying nor going, nor aught
else. So I asked what ailed him, and he said: 'My end draweth nigh; I
have seen my fetch, and am fey. My grave abideth me in these
mountains.' 'Thou hast been dreaming ugly dreams,' said I, 'such
things are of no import.' And I spoke lightly, and strove to comfort
him. He changed not his mood for all that; but said: 'This is ill for
thee also; for thou wilt be worser without me than with me in these
lands.' Even so I deemed, and withal I was sorry for him, for though he
were uncouth and ungainly, he was no ill man. So against my will I
tumbled into the samelike mood as his, and we both fared along
drearily. But about sunset, as we came round a corner of the cliffs of
those mountains, or ever we were ware we happed upon a half-score of
weaponed men, who were dighting a camp under a big rock thereby: but
four there were with them who were still a-horseback; so that when Bull
Nosy (for that was his name) strove to flee away with me, it was of no
avail; for the said horsemen took us, and brought us before an evil-
looking man, who, to speak shortly, was he whom thou hast seen, to
wit, the Lord of Utterbol: he took no heed of Bull Nosy, but looked on
me closely, and handled me as a man doth with a horse at a cheaping, so
that I went nigh to smiting him, whereas I had a knife in my bosom, but
the chaplet refrained me. To make a short tale of it, he bade Bull
sell me to him, which Bull utterly naysaid, standing stiff and stark
before the Lord, and scowling on him. But the Lord laughed in his face
and said: 'So be it, for I will take her without a price, and thank
thee for sparing my gold.' Then said Bull: 'If thou take her as a
thrall, thou wert best take me also; else shall I follow thee as a free
man and slay thee when I may. Many are the days of the year, and on
some one of them will betide the occasion for the knife.'

"Thereat the Lord waxed very pale, and spake not, but looked at that
man of his who stood by Bull with a great sword in his fist, and lifted
up his hand twice, and let it fall twice, whereat that man stepped back
one pace, and swung his sword, and smote Bull, and clave his skull.

"Then the colour came into the Lord's face again, and he said: 'Now,
vassals, let us dine and be merry, for at least we have found something
in the mountains.' So they fell to and ate and drank, and victual was
given to me also, but I had no will to eat, for my soul was sick and my
heart was heavy, foreboding the uttermost evil. Withal I was sorry for
Bull Nosy, for he was no ill man and had become my friend.

"So they abode there that night, leaving Bull lying like a dog unburied
in the wilderness; and on the morrow they took the road to Utterbol,
and went swiftly, having no baggage, and staying but for victual, and
for rest every night. The Lord had me brought to him on that first
evening of our journey, and he saw me privily and spake to me, bidding
me do shameful things, and I would not; wherefore he threatened me
grievously; and, I being alone with him, bade him beware lest I should
slay him or myself. Thereat he turned pale, as he had done before Bull
Nosy, yet sent for none to slay me, but only bade me back to my
keepers. And so I came to Utterbol unscathed."

"And at Utterbol," said Ralph, "what befell thee there?" Ursula smiled
on him, and held up her finger; yet she answered: "Utterbol is a very
great house in a fair land, and there are sundry roofs and many fair
chambers. There was I brought to a goodly chamber amidst a garden; and
women servants were given me who led me to the bath and clad me in
dainty raiment, and gave me to eat and to drink, and all that I needed.
That is all my tale for this time."



CHAPTER 5

They Come on the Sage of Swevenham


Night was at hand before they came to the stream that they sought.
They found it cleaving the pine-wood, which held on till the very bank
of it, and was thick again on the further side in a few yards' space.
The stream was high-banked and ran deep and strong. Said Ursula as
they came up to it: "We may not cross it, but it matters not; and it is
to-morrow that we must ride up along it."

So they abode there, and made a fire by the waterside, and watched
there, turn and turn about, till it was broad day. Naught befell to
tell of, save that twice in the night Ralph deemed that he heard a lion
roar.

They got to horse speedily when they were both awake, and rode up the
stream, and began to go up hill, and by noon were come into a rough and
shaggy upland, whence from time to time they could see the huge wall of
the mountains, which yet seemed to Ralph scarce nigher, if at all, than
when he had beheld it ere he had come to Vale Turris. The way was
rough day-long, and now and again they found it hard to keep the stream
in sight, as especially when it cleft a hill, and ran between sheer
cliffs with no low shore on either side.

They made way but slowly, so that at last Ralph lost patience somewhat,
and said that he had but little hope of falling in with the Sage that
day or any day. But Ursula was of good cheer, and mocked him merrily
but sweetly, till his heart was lightened again. Withal she bade him
seek some venison, since they were drawing out the time, and she knew
not how long it would be ere they came to the Sage's dwelling.
Therefore he betook him to the Turk bow, and shot a leash of
heath-fowl, and they supped on the meat merrily in the wilderness.

But if they were merry, they were soon weary; for they journeyed on
after sunset that night, since the moon was up, and there was no thick
wood to turn dusk into dark for them. Their resting-place was a smooth
piece of greensward betwixt the water and a half circle of steep bent
that well nigh locked it about.

There then they abode, and in the stillness of the night heard a
thundering sound coming down the wind to them, which they deemed was
the roaring of distant waters; and when they went to the lip of the
river they saw flocks of foam floating by, wherefore they thought
themselves to be near some great mountain-neck whereover the water was
falling from some high place. But with no to-do they lay down upon the
greensward this second night of their fellowship, and waked later than
on the day before; for so weary had they been, that they had kept but
ill watch in the dark night, and none at all after dawn began to
glimmer.

Now Ralph sat up and saw Ursula still sleeping; then he rose to his
feet and looked about him, and saw their two horses cropping the grass
under the bent, and beside them a man, tall and white bearded, leaning
on his staff. Ralph caught up his sword and went toward the man, and
the sun gleamed from the blade just as the hoary-one turned to him; he
lifted up his staff as if in greeting to Ralph, and came toward him,
and even therewith Ursula awoke and arose, and saw the greybeard at
once; and she cried out: "Take heed to thy sword, fellow-farer, for,
praised be the saints, this is the Sage of Swevenham!"

So they stood there together till the Sage came up to them and kissed
them both, and said: "I am glad that ye are come at last; for I looked
for you no later than this. So now mount your horses and come with me
straightway; because life is short to them who have not yet drunk of
the Well at the World's End. Moreover if ye chance to come on the
riders of Utterbol, it shall go hard with you unless I be at hand."

Ralph saw of him that though he was an old hoar man to look on, yet he
was strong and sturdy, tall, and of goodly presence, with ruddy cheeks,
and red lips and bright eyes, and that the skin of his face and hands
was nowise wrinkled: but about his neck was a pair of beads like unto
his own gossip's gift.

So now they mounted at once, and with no more words he led them about
the bent, and they came in a little while into the wood again, but this
time it was of beech, with here and there an open place sprinkled about
with hollies and thorns; and they rode down the wide slope of a long
hill, and up again on the other side.

Thus they went for an hour, and the elder spake not again, though it
might have been deemed by his eyes that he was eager and fain. They
also held their peace; for the hope and fear of their hearts kept them
from words.

They came to the hill-top, and found a plain land, though the close
wood still held on a while; but soon they rode into a clearing of some
twelve acres, where were fenced crofts with goats therein, and three
garths of tillage, wherein the wheat-shocks were yet standing, and
there were coleworts and other pot-herbs also. But at the further end,
whereas the wood closed in again, was a little house builded of timber,
strong and goodly, and thatched with wheat-straw; and beside it was a
bubbling spring which ran in a brook athwart the said clearing; over
the house-door was a carven rood, and a bow and short spear were leaned
against the wall of the porch.

Ralph looked at all closely, and wondered whether this were perchance
the cot wherein the Lady of Abundance had dwelt with the evil witch.
But the elder looked on him, and said: "I know thy thought, and it is
not so; that house is far away hence; yet shalt thou come thereto.
Now, children, welcome to the house of him who hath found what ye seek,
but hath put aside the gifts which ye shall gain; and who belike shall
remember what ye shall forget."

Therewith he brought them into the house, and into a chamber, the
plenishing whereof was both scanty and rude. There he bade them sit,
and brought them victual, to wit, cheese and goats' milk and bread, and
they fell to speech concerning the woodland ways, and the seasons, and
other unweighty matters. But as for the old man he spoke but few
words, and as one unused to speech, albeit he was courteous and
debonair. But when they had eaten and drunk he spake to them and said:

"Ye have sought to me because ye would find the Well at the World's
End, and would have lore of me concerning the road thereto; but before
I tell you what ye would, let me know what ye know thereof already."

Quoth Ralph: "For me, little enough I know, save that I must come to
the Rock of the Fighting Man, and that thou knowest the way thither."

"And thou, damsel," quoth the long-hoary, "what knowest thou? Must I
tell thee of the way through the mountains and the Wall of the World,
and the Winter Valley, and the Folk Innocent, and the Cot on the Way,
and the Forest of Strange Things and the Dry Tree?"

"Nay," she said, "of all this I wot somewhat, but it may be not enough."

Said the Sage: "Even so it was with me, when a many years ago I dwelt
nigh to Swevenham, and folk sought to me for lore, and I told them what
I knew; but maybe it was not enough, for they never came back; but died
belike or ever they had seen the Well. And then I myself, when I was
gotten very old, fared thither a-seeking it, and I found it; for I was
one of those who bore the chaplet of the seekers. And now I know all,
and can teach all. But tell me, damsel, whence hadst thou this lore?"

Said Ursula: "I had it of a very fair woman who, as it seemeth, was
Lady and Queen of the Champions of Hampton under the Scaur, not far
from mine own land."

"Yea," quoth the Sage, "and what hath befallen her? ... Nay, nay," said
he, "I need not ask; for I can see by your faces that she is dead.
Therefore hath she been slain, or otherwise she had not been dead. So
I ask you if ye were her friends?"

Quoth Ursula; "Surely she was my friend, since she befriended me; and
this man I deem was altogether her friend."

Ralph hung his head, and the Sage gazed on him, but said naught. Then
he took a hand of each of them in his hands, and held them a while
silently, and Ralph was still downcast and sad, but Ursula looked on
him fondly.

Then spake the Sage: "So it is, Knight, that now I seem to understand
what manner of man thou art, and I know what is between you two;
whereof I will say naught, but will let the tree grow according to its
seed. Moreover, I wot now that my friend of past years would have me
make you both wise in the lore of the Well at the World's End; and when
I have done this, I can do no more, but let your good hap prevail if so
it may. Abide a little, therefore."

Then he went unto an ark, and took thence a book wrapped in a piece
of precious web of silk and gold, and bound in cuir-bouilly wrought in
strange devices. Then said he: "This book was mine heritage at
Swevenham or ever I became wise, and it came from my father's
grandsire: and my father bade me look on it as the dearest of
possessions; but I heeded it naught till my youth had waned, and my
manhood was full of weariness and grief. Then I turned to it, and read
in it, and became wise, and the folk sought to me, and afterwards that
befell which was foredoomed. Now herein amongst other matters is
written of that which ye desire to know, and I will read the same to
you and expound it. Yet were it not well to read in this book under a
roof, nay, though it be as humble and innocent as this. Moreover, it
is not meet that ye should hearken to this wisdom of old times clad as
ye are; thou, knight, in the raiment of the manslayer, with the rod of
wrath hanging at thy side; and thou, maiden, attired in the garments of
the tyrant, which were won of him by lying and guile."

Then he went to another ark, and took from it two bundles, which he
gave, the one to Ralph, the other to Ursula, and said: "Thou, maiden,
go thou into the inner chamber here and doff thy worldly raiment, and
don that which thou wilt find wrapped in this cloth; and thou, knight,
take this other and get thee into the thicket which is behind the
house, and there do the like, and abide there till we come to thee."

So Ralph took the bundle, and came out into the thicket and unarmed
him, and did on the raiment which he found in the cloth, which was but
a long gown of white linen, much like to an alb, broidered about the
wrists and the hems and collar with apparels of gold and silk, girt
with a red silk girdle. There he abode a little, wondering at all
these things and all that had befallen him since he had left Upmeads.

Anon the two others came to him, and Ursula was clad in the same-like
raiment and the elder had the book in his hand. He smiled on Ralph and
nodded friendly to him. As to Ursula, she flushed as red as a rose when
she set eyes on him, for she said to herself that he was as one of
the angels which she had seen painted in the choir of St. Mary's at
Higham.



CHAPTER 6

Those Two Are Learned Lore by the Sage of Swevenham


Now the Sage led them through the wood till they came to a grassy lawn
amidst of which was a table of stone, which it seemed to Ralph must be
like to that whereon the witch-wife had offered up the goat to her
devils as the Lady of Abundance had told him; and he changed
countenance as the thought came into his mind. But the Sage looked on
him and shook his head and spake softly: "In these wastes and wilds are
many such-like places, where of old time the ancient folks did worship
to the Gods of the Earth as they imagined them: and whereas the lore
in this book cometh of such folk, this is no ill place for the reading
thereof. But if ye fear the book and its writers, who are dead long
ago, there is yet time to go back and seek the Well without my helping;
and I say not but that ye may find it even thus. But if ye fear not,
then sit ye down on the grass, and I will lay the book on this most
ancient table, and read in it, and do ye hearken heedfully."

So they sat down side by side, and Ralph would have taken Ursula's hand
to caress it, but she drew it away from him; howbeit she found it hard
to keep her eyes from off him. The Elder looked on them soberly, but
nowise in anger, and presently began reading in the book. What he read
shall be seen hereafter in the process of this tale; for the more part
thereof had but to do with the way to the Well at the World's End, all
things concerning which were told out fully, both great and small.
Long was this a-reading, and when the Sage had done, he bade now one,
now the other answer him questions as to what he had read; and if they
answered amiss he read that part again, and yet again, as children are
taught in the school. Until at last when he asked any question Ralph
or the maiden answered it rightly at once; and by this time the sun was
about to set. So he bade them home to his house that they might eat
and sleep there.

"But to-morrow," said he, "I shall give you your last lesson from this
book, and thereafter ye shall go your ways to the Rock of the Fighting
Man, and I look not for it that ye shall come to any harm on the way;
but whereas I seem to-day to have seen the foes of Utterbol seeking
you, I will lead you forth a little."

So they went home to the house, and he made them the most cheer that
he might, and spake to them in friendly and pleasant mood, so that they
were merry.

When it was morning they went again to the ancient altar, and again
they learned lore from the Elder, till they were waxen wise in the
matters of the Well at the World's End, and long they sat and hearkened
him till it was evening again, and once more they slept in the house of
the Sage of Swevenham.



CHAPTER 7

An Adventure by the Way


When morrow dawned they arose betimes and did on their worldly raiment;
and when they had eaten a morsel they made them ready for the road, and
the elder gave them victual for the way in their saddle-bags, saying:
"This shall suffice for the passing days, and when it is gone ye have
learned what to do."

Therewithall they gat to horse; but Ralph would have the Elder ride his
nag, while he went afoot by the side of Ursula. So the Sage took his
bidding, but smiled therewith, and said: "Thou art a King's son and a
friendly young man, else had I said nay to this; for it needeth not,
whereas I am stronger than thou, so hath my draught of the Well dealt
with me."

Thus then they went their ways; but Ralph noted of Ursula that she was
silent and shy with him, and it irked him so much, that at last he said
to her: "My friend, doth aught ail me with thee? Wilt thou not tell
me, so that I may amend it? For thou are grown of few words with me
and turnest thee from me, and seemest as if thou heedest me little.
Thou art as a fair spring morning gone cold and overcast in the
afternoon. What is it then? we are going a long journey together, and
belike shall find little help or comfort save in each other; and ill
will it be if we fall asunder in heart, though we be nigh in body."

She laughed and reddened therewithal; and then her countenance fell
and she looked piteously on him and said: "If I seemed to thee as thou
sayest, I am sorry; for I meant not to be thus with thee as thou
deemest. But so it is that I was thinking of this long journey, and of
thee and me together in it, and how we shall be with each other if we
come back again alive, with all things done that we had to do."

She stayed her speech awhile, and seemed to find it hard to give forth
the word that was in her; but at last she said: "Friend, thou must
pardon me; but that which thou sawest in me, I also seemed to see in
thee, that thou wert grown shy and cold with me; but now I know it is
not so, since thou hast seen me wrongly; but that I have seen thee
wrongly, as thou hast me."

Therewith she reached her hand to him, and he took it and kissed it and
caressed it while she looked fondly at him, and they fared on sweetly
and happily together. But as this was a-saying and a-doing betwixt
them, and a while after, they had heeded the Elder little or not at
all, though he rode on the right hand of Ralph. And for his part the
old man said naught to them and made as if he heard them not, when
they spake thuswise together.

Now they rode the wood on somewhat level ground for a while; then
the trees began to thin, and the ground grew broken; and at last it
was very rugged, with high hills and deep valleys, and all the land
populous of wild beasts, so that about sunset they heard thrice the
roar of a lion. But ever the Sage led them by winding ways that he
knew, round the feet of the hills, along stream-sides for the most
part, and by passes over the mountain-necks when they needs must,
which was twice in the day.

Dusk fell on them in a little valley, through which ran a stream bushed
about its edges, and which for the rest was grassy and pleasant, with
big sweet-chestnut trees scattered about it.

"Now," quoth the Elder; "two things we have to beware of in this
valley, the lions first; which, though belike they will not fall upon
weaponed men, may well make an onslaught on your horses, if they wind
them; and the loss of the beasts were sore to you as now. But the
second thing is the chase from Utterbol. As to the lions, if ye build
up a big fire, and keep somewhat aloof from the stream and its bushes,
and tether you horses anigh the fire, ye will have no harm of them."

"Yea," said Ralph, "but if the riders of Utterbol are anigh us, shall
we light a candle for them to show them the way?" Said the Sage: "Were
ye by yourselves, I would bid you journey night-long, and run all risk
rather than the risk of falling into their hands. But whereas I am
your guide, I bid you kindle your fire under yonder big tree, and leave
me to deal with the men of Utterbol; only whatso I bid you, that do ye
straightway."

"So be it," said Ralph, "I have been bewrayed so oft of late, that I
must needs trust thee, or all help shall fail me. Let us to work." So
they fell to and built up a big bale and kindled it, and their horses
they tethered to the tree; and by then they had done this, dark night
had fallen upon them. So they cooked their victual at the fire (for
Ralph had shot a hare by the way) and the Sage went down to the stream
and fetched them water in a lethern budget: "For," said he, "I know
the beasts of the wood and they me, and there is peace betwixt us."
There then they sat to meat unarmed, for the Sage had said to them:
"Doff your armour; ye shall not come to handystrokes with the Utterbol
Riders."

So they ate their meat in the wilderness, and were nowise ungleeful,
for to those twain the world seemed fair, and they hoped for great
things. But though they were glad, they were weary enough, for the way
had been both rugged and long; so they lay them down to sleep while the
night was yet young. But or ever Ralph closed his eyes he saw the Sage
standing up with his cloak wrapped about his head, and making strange
signs with his right hand; so that he deemed that he would ward them by
wizardry. So therewith he turned about on the grass and was asleep at
once.

After a while he started and sat up, half awake at first; for he felt
some one touch him; and his halfdreams went back to past days, and he
cried out: "Hah Roger! is it thou? What is toward?" But therewith he
woke up fully, and knew that it was the Sage that had touched him, and
withal he saw hard by Ursula, sitting up also.

There was still a flickering flame playing about the red embers of
their fire, for they had made it very big; and the moon had arisen and
was shining bright in a cloudless sky.

The Sage spake softly but quickly: "Lie down together, ye two, and I
shall cast my cloak over you, and look to it that ye stir not from out
of it, nor speak one word till I bid you, whate'er may befall: for the
riders of Utterbol are upon us."

They did as he bade them, but Ralph got somewhat of an eye-shot out of
a corner of the cloak, and he could see that the Sage went and stood up
against the tree-trunk holding a horse by the bridle, one on each side
of him. Even therewith Ralph heard the clatter of horse-hoofs over the
stones about the stream, and a man's voice cried out: "They will have
heard us; so spur over the grass to the fire and the big tree: for then
they cannot escape us." Then came the thump of horse-hoofs on the
turf, and in half a minute they were amidst of a rout of men a-horse-
back, more than a score, whose armour and weapons gleamed in the
moonlight: yet when these riders were gotten there, they were silent,
till one said in a quavering voice as if afeard: "Otter, Otter! what is
this? A minute ago and we could see the fire, and the tree, and men
and horses about them: and now, lo you! there is naught save two great
grey stones lying on the grass, and a man's bare bones leaning up
against the tree, and a ruckle of old horse-bones on either side of
him. Where are we then?"

Then spake another; and Ralph knew the voice for Otter's: "I wot not,
lord; naught else is changed save the fire and the horses and the men:
yonder are the hills, yonder overhead is the moon, with the little
light cloud dogging her; even that is scarce changed. Belike the fire
was an earth-fire, and for the rest we saw wrong in the moonlight."

Spake the first man again, and his voice quavered yet more: "Nay nay,
Otter, it is not so. Lo you the skeleton and the bones and the grey
stones! And the fire, here this minute, there the next. O Otter, this
is an evil place of an evil deed! Let us go seek elsewhere; let us
depart, lest a worse thing befall us." And so with no more ado he
turned his horse and smote his spurs into him and galloped off by the
way he had come, and the others followed, nothing loth; only Otter
tarried a little, and looked around him and laughed and said: "There
goes my Lord's nephew; like my Lord he is not over bold, save in
dealing with a shackled man. Well, for my part if those others have
sunk into the earth, or gone up into the air, they are welcome to their
wizardry, and I am glad of it. For I know not how I should have done
to have seen my mate that out-tilted me made a gelded wretch of; and
it would have irked me to see that fair woman in the hands of the
tormentors, though forsooth I have oft seen such sights. Well, it is
good; but better were it to ride with my mate than serve the Devil and
his Nephew."

Therewith he turned rein and galloped off after the others, and in a
little while the sound of them had died off utterly into the night, and
they heard but the voices of the wild things, and the wimbrel laughing
from the hill-sides. Then came the Sage and drew the cloak from those
two, and laughed on them and said: "Now may ye sleep soundly, when I
have mended our fire; for ye will see no more of Utterbol for this
time, and it yet lacks three hours of dawn: sleep ye then and dream of
each other." Then they arose and thanked the Sage with whole hearts
and praised his wisdom. But while the old man mended the fire Ralph
went up to Ursula and took her hand, and said: "Welcome to life, fel-
low-farer!" and he gazed earnestly into her eyes, as though he would
have her fall into his arms: but whereas she rather shrank from him,
though she looked on him lovingly, if somewhat shyly, he but kissed her
hand, and laid him down again, when he had seen her lying in her place.
And therewith they fell asleep and slept sweetly.



CHAPTER 8

They Come to the Sea of Molten Rocks


When they woke again the sun was high above their heads, and they saw
the Sage dighting their breakfast. So they arose and washed the night
off them in the stream and ate hastily, and got to horse on a fair
forenoon; then they rode the mountain neck east from that valley; and
it was a long slope of stony and barren mountain nigh waterless.

And on the way Ursula told Ralph how the man who was scared by the
wizardry last night was verily the nephew of the Lord from whom she had
stolen her armour by wheedling and a seeming promise. "But," said she,
"his love lay not so deep but that he would have avenged him for my
guile on my very body had he taken us." Ralph reddened and scowled at
her word, and the Sage led them into the other talk.

So long was that fell, that they were nigh benighted ere they gained
the topmost, or came to any pass. When they had come to a place where
there was a little pool in a hollow of the rocks they made stay there,
and slept safe, but ill-lodged, and on the morrow were on their way
betimes, and went toiling up the neck another four hours, and came to a
long rocky ridge or crest that ran athwart it; and when they had come
to the brow thereof, then were they face to face with the Great
Mountains, which now looked so huge that they seemed to fill all the
world save the ground whereon they stood. Cloudless was the day, and
the air clean and sweet, and every nook and cranny was clear to be-
hold from where they stood: there were great jutting nesses with
straight-walled burgs at their top-most, and pyramids and pinnacles
that no hand of man had fashioned, and awful clefts like long streets
in the city of the giants who wrought the world, and high above all the
undying snow that looked as if the sky had come down on to the
mountains and they were upholding it as a roof.

But clear as was the fashion of the mountains, they were yet a long
way off: for betwixt them and the ridge whereon those fellows stood,
stretched a vast plain, houseless and treeless, and, as they beheld it
thence grey and ungrassed (though indeed it was not wholly so) like a
huge river or firth of the sea it seemed, and such indeed it had been
once, to wit a flood of molten rock in the old days when the earth was
a-burning.

Now as they stood and beheld it, the Sage spake: "Lo ye, my children,
the castle and its outwork, and its dyke that wardeth the land of the
Well at the World's End. Now from to-morrow, when we enter into the
great sea of the rock molten in the ancient earth-fires, there is no
least peril of pursuit for you. Yet amidst that sea should ye perish
belike, were it not for the wisdom gathered by a few; and they are dead
now save for the Book, and for me, who read it unto you. Now ye would
not turn back were I to bid you, and I will not bid you. Yet since the
journey shall be yet with grievous toil and much peril, and shall try
the very hearts within you, were ye as wise as Solomon and as mighty as
Alexander, I will say this much unto you; that if ye love not the earth
and the world with all your souls, and will not strive all ye may to be
frank and happy therein, your toil and peril aforesaid shall win you no
blessing but a curse. Therefore I bid you be no tyrants or builders of
cities for merchants and usurers and warriors and thralls, like the
fool who builded Goldburg to be for a tomb to him: or like the
thrall-masters of the Burg of the Four Friths, who even now, it may be,
are pierced by their own staff or overwhelmed by their own wall. But
rather I bid you to live in peace and patience without fear or hatred,
and to succour the oppressed and love the lovely, and to be the friends
of men, so that when ye are dead at last, men may say of you, they
brought down Heaven to the Earth for a little while. What say ye,
children?"

Then said Ralph: "Father, I will say the sooth about mine intent,
though ye may deem it little-minded. When I have accomplished this
quest, I would get me home again to the little land of Upmeads, to see
my father and my mother, and to guard its meadows from waste and its
houses from fire-raising: to hold war aloof and walk in free fields,
and see my children growing up about me, and lie at last beside my
fathers in the choir of St. Laurence. The dead would I love and
remember; the living would I love and cherish; and Earth shall be the
well beloved house of my Fathers, and Heaven the highest hall thereof."

"It is well," said the Sage, "all this shalt thou do and be no
little-heart, though thou do no more. And thou, maiden?"

She looked on Ralph and said: "I lost, and then I found, and then I
lost again. Maybe I shall find the lost once more. And for the rest,
in all that this man will do, I will help, living or dead, for I know
naught better to do."

"Again it is well," said the Sage, "and the lost which was verily thine
shalt thou find again, and good days and their ending shall betide
thee. Ye shall have no shame in your lives and no fear in your deaths.
Wherefore now lieth the road free before you."

Then was he silent a while, neither spake the others aught, but stood
gazing on the dark grey plain, and the blue wall that rose beyond it,
till at last the Sage lifted up his hand and said: "Look yonder,
children, to where I point, and ye shall see how there thrusteth out a
ness from the mountain-wall, and the end of it stands like a bastion
above the lava-sea, and on its sides and its head are streaks ruddy and
tawny, where the earth-fires have burnt not so long ago: see ye?"

Ralph looked and said: "Yea, father, I see it, and its rifts and its
ridges, and its crannies."

Quoth the Sage: "Behind that ness shall ye come to the Rock of the
Fighting Man, which is the very Gate of the Mountains; and I will not
turn again nor bid you farewell till I have brought you thither. And
now time presses; for I would have you come timely to that cavern,
whereof I have taught you, before ye fall on the first days of winter,
or ye shall be hard bestead. So now we will eat a morsel, and then use
diligence that we may reach the beginning of the rock-sea before
nightfall."

So did they, and the Sage led them down by a slant-way from off the
ridge, which was toilsome but nowise perilous. So about sunset they
came down into the plain, and found a belt of greensward, and waters
therein betwixt the foot of the ridge and the edge of the rock-sea. And
as for the said sea, though from afar it looked plain and unbroken, now
that they were close to, and on a level with it, they saw that it rose
up into cliffs, broken down in some places, and in others arising high
into the air, an hundred foot, it might be. Sometimes it thrust out
into the green shore below the fell, and otherwhile drew back from it
as it had cooled ages ago.

So they came to a place where there was a high wall of rock round three
sides of a grassy place by a stream-side, and there they made their
resting-place, and the night went calmly and sweetly with them.



CHAPTER 9

They Come Forth From the Rock-Sea


On the morrow the Sage led them straight into the rock-sea whereas it
seemed to them at first that he was but bringing them into a blind
alley; but at the end of the bight the rock-wall was broken down into a
long scree of black stones. There the Sage bade Ralph and Ursula
dismount (as for him he had been going afoot ever since that first day)
and they led the horses up the said scree, which was a hard business,
as they were no mountain beasts. And when they were atop of the scree
it was harder yet to get them down, for on that side it was steeper;
but at last they brought it about, and came down into a little grassy
plain or isle in the rock sea, which narrowed toward the eastern end,
and the rocks on either side were smooth and glossy, as if the heat had
gone out of them suddenly, when the earth-fires had ceased in the
mountains.

Now the Sage showed them on a certain rock a sign cut, whereof they
had learned in the book aforesaid, to wit, a sword crossed by a three-
leaved bough; and they knew by the book that they should press on
through the rock-sea nowhere, either going or returning, save where
they should see this token.

Now when they came to the narrow end of the plain they found still a
wide way between the rock-walls, that whiles widened out, and whiles
drew in again. Whiles withal were screes across the path, and little
waters that ran out of the lava and into it again, and great blocks of
fallen stone, sometimes as big as a husbandman's cot, that wind and
weather had rent from the rocks; and all these things stayed them
somewhat. But they went on merrily, albeit their road winded so much,
that the Sage told them, when evening was, that for their diligence
they had but come a few short miles as the crow flies.

Many wild things there were, both beast and fowl, in these islands and
bridges of the rock-sea, hares and conies to wit, a many, and
heathfowl, and here and there a red fox lurking about the crannies of
the rock-wall. Ralph shot a brace of conies with his Turk bow, and
whereas there were bushes growing in the chinks, and no lack of whin
and ling, they had firing enough, and supped off this venison of the
rocks.

So passed that day and two days more, and naught befell, save that on
the midnight of the first day of their wending the rock-sea, Ralph
awoke and saw the sky all ablaze with other light than that of the
moon; so he arose and went hastily to the Sage, and took him by the
shoulder, and bid him awake; "For meseems the sky is afire, and
perchance the foe is upon us."

The Sage awoke and opened his eyes, and rose on his elbow and looked
around sleepily; then he said laughing: "It is naught, fair lord, thou
mayst lie down and sleep out the remnant of the night, and thou also,
maiden: this is but an earth-fire breaking out on the flank of the
mountains; it may be far away hence. Now ye see that he may not scale
the rocks about us here without toil; but to-morrow night we may climb
up somewhere and look on what is toward."

So Ralph lay down and Ursula also, but Ralph lay long awake watching
the light above him, which grew fiercer and redder in the hours betwixt
moonset and daybreak, when he fell asleep, and woke not again till the
sun was high.

But on the next day as they went, the aspect of the rock-sea about them
changed: for the rocks were not so smooth and shining and orderly, but
rose up in confused heaps all clotted together by the burning, like to
clinkers out of some monstrous forge of the earth-giants, so that their
way was naught so clear as it had been, but was rather a maze of jagged
stone. But the Sage led through it all unfumbling, and moreover now
and again they came on that carven token of the sword and the bough.
Night fell, and as it grew dark they saw the glaring of the earth-fires
again; and when they were rested, and had done their meat, the Sage
said: "Come now with me, for hard by is there a place as it were a
stair that goeth to the top of a great rock, let us climb it and look
about us."

So did they, and the head of the rock was higher than the main face of
the rock-sea, so that they could see afar. Thence they looked north
and beheld afar off a very pillar of fire rising up from a ness of the
mountain wall, and seeming as if it bore up a black roof of smoke; and
the huge wall gleamed grey, because of its light, and it cast a ray of
light across the rock-sea as the moon doth over the waters of the deep:
withal there was the noise as of thunder in the air, but afar off:
which thunder indeed they had heard oft, as they rode through the
afternoon and evening.

Spake the Sage: "It is far away: yet if the wind were not blowing
from us, we had smelt the smoke, and the sky had been darkened by it.
Now it is naught so far from Utterbol, and it will be for a token to
them there. For that ness is called the Candle of the Giants, and men
deem that the kindling thereof forebodeth ill to the lord who sitteth
on the throne in the red hall of Utterbol."

Ralph laid his hand on Ursula's shoulder and said: "May the Sage's saw
be sooth!"

She put her hand upon the hand and said: "Three months ago I lay on my
bed at Bourton Abbas, and all the while here was this huge manless
waste lying under the bare heavens and threatened by the storehouse of
the fires of the earth: and I had not seen it, nor thee either, O
friend; and now it hath become a part of me for ever."

Then was Ralph exceeding glad of her words, and the Sage laughed
inwardly when he beheld them thus.

So they came adown from the rock and lay down presently under the fiery
heavens: and their souls were comforted by the sound of the horses
cropping the grass so close to their ears, that it broke the voice of
the earth-fires' thunder, that ever and anon rolled over the grey sea
amidst which they lay.

On the morrow they still rode the lava like to clinkers, and it rose
higher about them, till suddenly nigh sunset it ended at a turn of
their winding road, and naught lay betwixt them and that mighty ness of
the mountains, save a wide grassy plain, here and there swelling into
low wide risings not to be called hills, and besprinkled with copses of
bushes, and with trees neither great nor high. Then spake the Sage:
"Here now will we rest, and by my will to-morrow also, that your beasts
may graze their fill of the sweet grass of these unwarded meadows.
which feedeth many a herd unowned of man, albeit they pay a quit-rent
to wild things that be mightier than they. And now, children, we have
passed over the mighty river that once ran molten betwixt these
mountains and the hills yonder to the west, which we trod the other
day; yet once more, if your hearts fail you, there is yet time to turn
back; and no harm shall befall you, but I will be your fellow all the
way home to Swevenham if ye will. But if ye still crave the water of
the Well at the World's End, I will lead you over this green plain, and
then go back home to mine hermitage, and abide there till ye come to
me, or I die."

Ralph smiled and said: "Master, no such sorry story shall I bear back
to Upmeads, that after many sorrows borne, and perils overcome, I came
to the Gates of the Mountains, and turned back for fear of that which I
had not proved."

So spake he; but Ursula laughed and said: "Yea, then should I deem thy
friendship light if thou leftest me alone and unholpen in the uttermost
wilderness; and thy manhood light to turn back from that which did not
make a woman afraid."

Then the Sage looked kindly on them and said: "Yea, then is the last
word spoken, and the world may yet grow merrier to me. Look you, some
there be who may abuse the gifts of the Well for evil errands, and some
who may use it for good deeds; but I am one who hath not dared to use
it lest I should abuse it, I being alone amongst weaklings and fools:
but now if ye come back, who knows but that I may fear no longer, but
use my life, and grow to be a mighty man. Come now, let us dight our
supper, and kindle as big a fire as we lightly may; since there is many
a prowling beast about, as bear and lynx and lion; for they haunt this
edge of the rock-sea whereto the harts and the wild bulls and the goats
resort for the sweet grass, and the water that floweth forth from the
lava."

So they cut good store of firing, whereas there was a plenty of bushes
growing in the clefts of the rocks, and they made a big fire and
tethered their horses anigh it when they lay down to rest; and in the
night they heard the roaring of wild things round about them, and more
than once or twice, awakening before day, they saw the shape of some
terrible creature by the light of the moon mingled with the glare of
the earth-fires, but none of these meddled with them, and naught befell
them save the coming of the new day.



CHAPTER 10

They Come to the Gate of the Mountains


That day they herded their horses thereabout, and from time to time the
Sage tried those two if they were perfect in the lore of the road; and
he found that they had missed nothing.

They lay down in the self-same place again that night, and arose
betimes on the morrow and went their ways over the plain as the Sage
led, till it was as if the mountains and their terror hung over their
very heads, and the hugeness and blackness of them were worse than
a wall of fire had been. It was still a long way to them, so that it was
not till noon of the third day from the rock-sea that they came to the
very feet of that fire-scorched ness, and wonderful indeed it seemed to
them that anything save the eagles could have aught to tell of what lay
beyond it.

There were no foothills or downs betwixt the plain and the mountains,
naught save a tumble of rocks that had fallen from the cliffs, piled up
strangely, and making a maze through which the Sage led them surely;
and at last they were clear even of this, and were underneath the flank
of that ness, which was so huge that there seemed that there could
scarce be any more mountain than that. Little of its huge height could
they see, now they were close to it, for it went up sheer at first and
then beetled over them till they could see no more of its side; as they
wound about its flank, and they were long about it, the Sage cried out
to those two and stretched out his hand, and behold! the side of the
black cliff plain and smooth and shining as if it had been done by the
hand of men or giants, and on this smooth space was carven in the
living rock the image of a warrior in mail and helm of ancient fashion,
and holding a sword in his right hand. From head to heel he seemed
some sixty feet high, and the rock was so hard, that he was all clean
and clear to see; and they deemed of him that his face was keen and
stern of aspect.

So there they stood in an awful bight of the mountain, made by that
ness, and the main wall from which it thrust out. But after they had
gazed awhile and their hearts were in their mouths, the Sage turned on
those twain and said: "Here then is the end of my journey with you; and
ye wot all that I can tell you, and I can say no word more save to bid
you cast all fear aside and thrive. Ye have yet for this day's journey
certain hours of such daylight as the mountain pass will give you,
which at the best is little better than twilight; therefore redeem ye
the time."

But Ralph got off his horse, and Ursula did in likewise, and they both
kissed and embraced the old man, for their hearts were full and fain.
But he drew himself away from them, and turned about with no word more,
and went his ways, and presently was hidden from their eyes by the
rocky maze which lay about the mountain's foot. Then the twain mounted
their horses again and set forth silently on the road, as they had been
bidden.

In a little while the rocks of the pass closed about them, leaving but
a way so narrow that they could see a glimmer of the stars above them
as they rode the twilight; no sight they had of the measureless stony
desert, yet in their hearts they saw it. They seemed to be wending a
straight-walled prison without an end, so that they were glad when the
dark night came on them.

Ralph found some shelter in the cleft of a rock above a mound where
was little grass for the horses. He drew Ursula into it, and they sat down
there on the stones together. So long they sat silent that a great gloom
settled upon Ralph, and he scarce knew whether he were asleep or
waking, alive or dead. But amidst of it fell a sweet voice on his
ears, and familiar words asking him of what like were the fields of
Upmeads, and the flowers; and of the fish of its water, and of the
fashion of the building of his father's house; and of his brethren, and
the mother that bore him. Then was it to him at first as if a sweet
dream had come across the void of his gloom, and then at last the gloom
and the dread and the deadness left him, and he knew that his friend
and fellow was talking to him, and that he sat by her knee to knee, and
the sweetness of her savoured in his nostrils as she leaned her face
toward him, and he knew himself for what he was; and yet for memory of
that past horror, and the sweetness of his friend and what not else, he
fell a-weeping. But Ursula bestirred herself and brought out food from
her wallet, and sat down beside him again, and he wiped the tears from
his eyes and laughed, and chid himself for being as a child in the
dark, and then they ate and drank together in that dusk nook of the
wilderness. And now was he happy and his tongue was loosed, and he
fell to telling her many things of Upmeads, and of the tale of his
forefathers, and of his old loves and his friends, till life and death
seemed to him as they had seemed of time past in the merry land of his
birth. So there anon they fell asleep for weariness, and no dreams of
terror beset their slumbers.



CHAPTER 11

They Come to the Vale of Sweet Chestnuts


When they went on their way next morning they found little change in
the pass, and they rode the dread highway daylong, and it was still the
same: so they rested a little before nightfall at a place where there
was water running out of the rocks, but naught else for their avail.
Ralph was merry and helpful and filled water from the runnel, and
wrought what he might to make the lodging meet; and as they ate and
rested he said to Ursula: "Last night it was thou that beguiled me of
my gloom, yet thereafter till we slept it was my voice for the more
part, and not thine, that was heard in the wilderness. Now to-night it
shall be otherwise, and I will but ask a question of thee, and hearken
to the sweetness of thy voice."

She laughed a little and very sweetly, and she said: "Forsooth, dear
friend, I spoke to thee that I might hear thy voice for the more part,
and not mine, that was heard in the desert; but when I heard thee, I
deemed that the world was yet alive for us to come back to."

He was silent awhile, for his heart was pierced with the sweetness of
her speech, and he had fain have spoken back as sweetly as a man might;
yet he could not because he feared her somewhat, lest she should turn
cold to him; therefore himseemed that he spoke roughly, as he said:
"Nevertheless, my friend, I beseech thee to tell me of thine old home,
even as last night I told thee of mine."

"Yea," she said, "with a good will." And straightway she fell to
telling him of her ways when she was little, and of her father and
mother, and of her sister that had died, and the brother whom Ralph had
seen at Bourton Abbas: she told also of bachelors who had wooed her,
and jested concerning them, yet kindly and without malice, and talked
so sweetly and plainly, that the wilderness was become a familiar place
to Ralph, and he took her hand in the dusk and said: "But, my friend,
how was it with the man for whom thou wert weeping when I first fell in
with thee at Bourton Abbas?"

She said: "I will tell thee plainly, as a friend may to a friend.
Three hours had not worn from thy departure ere tidings came to me
concerning him, that neither death nor wounding had befallen him; and
that his masterless horse and bloodstained saddle were but a device to
throw dust into our eyes, so that there might be no chase after him by
the men of the Abbot's bailiff, and that he might lightly do as he
would, to wit, swear himself into the riders of the Burg of the Four
Friths; for, in sooth, he was weary of me and mine. Yet further, I
must needs tell thee that I know now, that when I wept before thee it
was partly in despite, because I had found out in my heart (though I
bade it not tell me so much) that I loved him but little."

"Yea," said Ralph, "and when didst thou come to that knowledge of thine
heart?"

"Dear friend," she said, "mayhappen I may tell thee hereafter, but as
now I will forbear." He laughed for joy of her, and in a little that
talk fell down between them.

Despite the terror of the desert and the lonely ways, when Ralph laid
him down on his stony bed, happiness wrapped his heart about. Albeit
all this while he durst not kiss or caress her, save very measurely,
for he deemed that she would not suffer it; nor as yet would he ask her
wherefore, though he had it in his mind that he would not always
forbear to ask her.

Many days they rode that pass of the mountains, though it was not
always so evil and dreadful as at the first beginning; for now again
the pass opened out into little valleys, wherein was foison of grass
and sweet waters withal, and a few trees. In such places must they
needs rest them, to refresh their horses as well as themselves, and to
gather food, of venison, and wild-fruit and nuts. But abiding in such
vales was very pleasant to them.

At last these said valleys came often and oftener, till it was so that
all was pretty much one valley, whiles broken by a mountain neck,
whiles straitened by a ness of the mountains that jutted into it, but
never quite blind: yet was the said valley very high up, and as it
were a trench of the great mountain. So they were glad that they had
escaped from that strait prison betwixt the rock-walls, and were well
at ease: and they failed never to find the tokens that led them on the
way, even as they had learned of the Sage, so that they were not
beguiled into any straying.

And now they had worn away thirty days since they had parted from the
Sage, and the days began to shorten and the nights to lengthen apace;
when on the forenoon of a day, after they had ridden a very rugged
mountain-neck, they came down and down into a much wider valley into
which a great reef of rocks thrust out from the high mountain, so that
the northern half of the said vale was nigh cleft atwain by it; well
grassed was the vale, and a fair river ran through it, and there were
on either side the water great groves of tall and great sweet-chestnuts
and walnut trees, whereon the nuts were now ripe. They rejoiced as
they rode into it; for they remembered how the Sage had told them
thereof, that their travel and toil should be stayed there awhile, and
that there they should winter, because of the bread which they could
make them of the chestnuts, and the plenty of walnuts, and that withal
there was foison of venison.

So they found a ford of the river and crossed it, and went straight to
the head of the rocky ness, being shown thither by the lore of the
Sage, and they found in the face of the rock the mouth of a cavern, and
beside it the token of the sword and the branch. Therefore they knew
that they had come to their winter house, and they rejoiced thereat,
and without more ado they got off their horses and went into the
cavern. The entry thereof was low, so that they must needs creep into
it, but within it was a rock-hall, high, clean and sweet-smelling.

There then they dight their dwelling, doing all they might to be done
with their work before the winter was upon them. The day after they
had come there they fell to on the in-gathering of their chestnut
harvest, and they dried them, and made them into meal; and the walnuts
they gathered also. Withal they hunted the deer, both great and small;
amongst which Ralph, not without some peril, slew two great bears, of
which beasts, indeed, there was somewhat more than enough, as they came
into the dale to feed upon the nuts and the berry-trees. So they soon
had good store of peltries for their beds and their winter raiment,
which Ursula fell to work on deftly, for she knew all the craft of
needlework; and, shortly to tell it, they had enough and to spare of
victual and raiment.



CHAPTER 12

Winter Amidst of the Mountains


In all this they had enough to be busy with, so that time hung not hea-
vy on their hands, and the shadow of the Quest was nowise burdensome
to them, since they wotted that they had to abide the wearing of the
days till spring was come with fresh tidings. Their labour was nowise
irksome to them, since Ralph was deft in all manner of sports and
crafts, such as up-country folk follow, and though he were a king's
son, he had made a doughty yeoman: and as for Ursula, she also was
country-bred, of a lineage of field-folk, and knew all the manners of
the fields.

Withal in whatsoever way it were, they loved each other dearly, and all
kind of speech flowed freely betwixt them. Sooth to say, Ralph, taking
heed of Ursula, deemed that she were fain to love him bodily, and he
wotted well by now, that, whatever had befallen, he loved her, body and
soul. Yet still was that fear of her naysay lurking in his heart, if
he should kiss her, or caress her, as a man with a maid. Therefore he
forbore, though desire of her tormented him grievously at whiles.

They wore their armour but little now, save when they were about some
journey wherein was peril of wild beasts. Ursula had dight her some
due woman's raiment betwixt her knight's surcoat and doe-skins which
they had gotten, so that it was not unseemly of fashion. As for their
horses, they but seldom backed them, but used them to draw stuff to
their rock-house on sledges, which they made of tree-boughs; so that
the beasts grew fat, feeding on the grass of the valley and the
wild-oats withal, which grew at the upper end of the bight of the
valley, toward the northern mountains, where the ground was sandy. No
man they saw, nor any signs of man, nor had they seen any save the
Sage, since those riders of Utterbol had vanished before them into the
night.

So wore autumn into winter, and the frost came, and the snow, with
prodigious winds from out of the mountains: yet was not the weather so
hard but that they might go forth most days, and come to no hurt if
they were wary of the drifts; and forsooth needs must they go abroad to
take venison for their livelihood.

So the winter wore also amidst sweet speech and friendliness betwixt
the two, and they lived still as dear friends, and not as lovers.

Seldom they spoke of the Quest, for it seemed to them now a matter over
great for speech. But now they were grown so familiar each to each
that Ursula took heart to tell Ralph more of the tidings of Utterbol,
for now the shame and grief of her bondage there was but as a story
told of another, so far away seemed that time from this. But so
grievous was her tale that Ralph grew grim thereover, and he said: "By
St. Nicholas! it were a good deed, once we are past the mountains
again, to ride to Utterbol and drag that swine and wittol from his hall
and slay him, and give his folk a good day. But then there is thou, my
friend, and how shall I draw thee into deadly strife?"

"Nay," she said, "whereso thou ridest thither will I, and one fate
shall lie on us both. We will think thereof and ask the Sage of it
when we return. Who knows what shall have befallen then? Remember the
lighting of the candle of Utterbol that we saw from the Rock-sea, and
the boding thereof." So Ralph was appeased for that time.

Oft also they spake of the little lands whence they came, and on a time
amidst of such talk Ursula said: "But alas, friend, why do I speak of
all this, when now save for my brother, who loveth me but after a
fashion, to wit that I must in all wise do his bidding, lad as he is, I
have no longer kith nor kin there, save again as all the folk of one
stead are somewhat akin. I think, my dear, that I have no country, nor
any house to welcome me."

Said Ralph: "All lands, any land that thou mayst come to, shall
welcome thee, and I shall look to it that so it shall be." And in his
heart he thought of the welcome of Upmeads, and of Ursula sitting on
the dais of the hall of the High-House.

So wore the days till Candlemass, when the frost broke and the snows
began to melt, and the waters came down from the mountains, so that the
river rose over its banks and its waters covered the plain parts of the
valley, and those two could go dryshod but a little way out of their
cavern; no further than the green mound or toft which lay at the mouth
thereof: but the waters were thronged with fowl, as mallard and teal
and coots, and of these they took what they would. Whiles also they
waded the shallows of the flood, and whiles poled a raft about it, and
so had pleasure of the waters as before they had had of the snow. But
when at last the very spring was come, and the grass began to grow
after the showers had washed the plain of the waterborne mud, and the
snowdrop had thrust up and blossomed, and the celandine had come, and
then when the blackthorn bloomed and the Lent-lilies hid the grass
betwixt the great chestnut-boles, when the sun shone betwixt the
showers and the west wind blew, and the throstles and blackbirds ceased
not their song betwixt dawn and dusk, then began Ralph to say to
himself, that even if the Well at the World's End were not, and all
that the Sage had told them was but a tale of Swevenham, yet were all
better than well if Ursula were but to him a woman beloved rather than
a friend. And whiles he was pensive and silent, even when she was by
him, and she noted it and forbore somewhat the sweetness of her
glances, and the caressing of her soft speech: though oft when he
looked on her fondly, the blood would rise to her cheeks, and her bosom
would heave with the thought of his desire, which quickened hers so
sorely, that it became a pain and grief to her.



CHAPTER 13

Of Ursula and the Bear


It befell on a fair sunny morning of spring, that Ralph sat alone on
the toft by the rock-house, for Ursula had gone down the meadow to
disport her and to bathe in the river. Ralph was fitting the blade of
a dagger to a long ashen shaft, to make him a strong spear; for with
the waxing spring the bears were often in the meadows again; and the
day before they had come across a family of the beasts in the sandy
bight under the mountains; to wit a carle, and a quean with her cubs;
the beasts had seen them but afar off, and whereas the men were two and
the sun shone back from their weapons, they had forborne them; although
they were fierce and proud in those wastes, and could not away with
creatures that were not of their kind. So because of this Ralph had
bidden Ursula not to fare abroad without her sword, which was sharp and
strong, and she no weakling withal. He bethought him of this just as
he had made an end of his spear-shaping, so therewith he looked aside
and saw the said sword hanging to a bough of a little quicken-tree,
which grew hard by the door. Fear came into his heart therewith, so he
arose and strode down over the meadow hastily bearing his new spear,
and girt with his sword. Now there was a grove of chestnuts betwixt
him and the river, but on the other side of them naught but the green
grass down to the water's edge.

Sure enough as he came under the trees he heard a shrill cry, and knew
that it could be naught save Ursula; so he ran thitherward whence came
the cry, shouting as he ran, and was scarce come out of the trees ere
he saw Ursula indeed, mother-naked, held in chase by a huge bear as big
as a bullock: he shouted again and ran the faster; but even therewith,
whether she heard and saw him, and hoped for timely help, or whether
she felt her legs failing her, she turned on the bear, and Ralph saw
that she had a little axe in her hand wherewith she smote hardily at
the beast; but he, after the fashion of his kind, having risen to his
hind legs, fenced with his great paws like a boxer, and smote the axe
out of her hand, and she cried out bitterly and swerved from him and
fell a running again; but the bear tarried not, and would have caught
her in a few turns; but even therewith was Ralph come up, who thrust
the beast into the side with his long-headed spear, and not waiting to
pull it out again, drew sword in a twinkling, and smote a fore-paw off
him and then drave the sword in over the shoulder so happily that it
reached his heart, and he fell over dead with a mighty thump.

Then Ralph looked around for Ursula; but she had already run back to
the river-side and was casting her raiment on her; so he awaited her
beside the slain bear, but with drawn sword, lest the other bear should
come upon them; for this was the he-bear. Howbeit he saw naught save
presently Ursula all clad and coming towards him speedily; so he turned
toward her, and when they met he cast himself upon her without a word,
and kissed her greedily; and she forbore not at all, but kissed and
caressed him as if she could never be satisfied.

So at last they drew apart a little, and walked quietly toward the
rock-house hand in hand. And on the way she told him that even as she
came up on to the bank from the water she saw the bear coming down on
her as fast as he could drive, and so she but caught up her axe, and
ran for it: "Yet I had little hope, dear friend," she said, "but that
thou shouldst be left alone in the wilderness." And therewith she
turned on him and cast her arms about him again, all weeping for joy of
their two lives.

Thus slowly they came before the door of their rock-house and Ralph
said: "Let us sit down here on the grass, and if thou art not over
wearied with the flight and the battle, I will ask thee a question."
She laid herself down on the grass with a sigh, yet it was as of one
who sighs for pleasure and rest, and said, as he sat down beside her:
"I am fain to rest my limbs and my body, but my heart is at rest; so
ask on, dear friend."

The song of birds was all around them, and the scent of many blossoms
went past on the wings of the west wind, and Ralph was silent a little
as he looked at the loveliness of his friend; then he said: "This is
the question; of what kind are thy kisses this morning, are they the
kisses of a friend or a lover? Wilt thou not called me beloved and not
friend? Shall not we two lie on the bridal bed this same night?"

She looked on him steadily, smiling, but for love and sweetness, not
for shame and folly; then she said: "O, dear friend and dearest lover,
three questions are these and not one; but I will answer all three as
my heart biddeth me. And first, I will tell thee that my kisses are as
thine; and if thine are aught but the kisses of love, then am I
befooled. And next, I say that if thou wilt be my friend indeed, I
will not spare to call thee beloved, or to be all thy friend. But as
to thy third question; tell me, is there not time enough for that?"

She faltered as she spake, but he said: "Look, beloved, and see how
fair the earth is to-day! What place and what season can be goodlier
than this? And were it not well that we who love each other should
have our full joy out of this sweet season, which as now is somewhat
marred by our desire?"

"Ah, beloved!" she said, looking shyly at him, "is it so marred by that
which marreth not us?"

"Hearken!" he said; "how much longer shall this fairness and peace, and
our leisure and safety endure? Here and now the earth rejoiceth about
us, and there is none to say us nay; but to-morrow it may all be
otherwise. Bethink thee, dear, if but an hour ago the monster had
slain thee, and rent thee ere we had lain in each other's arms!"

"Alas!" she said, "and had I lain in thine arms an hundred times, or an
hundred times an hundred, should not the world be barren to me, wert
thou gone from it, and that could never more be? But thou friend, thou
well-beloved, fain were I to do thy will that thou mightest be the
happier...and I withal. And if thou command it, be it so! Yet now
should I tell thee all my thought, and it is on my mind, that for a
many hundreds of years, yea, while our people were yet heathen, when a
man should wed a maid all the folk knew of it, and were witnesses of
the day and the hour thereof: now thou knowest that the time draws
nigh when we may look for those messengers of the Innocent Folk, who
come every spring to this cave to see if there be any whom they may
speed on the way to the Well at the World's End. Therefore if thou
wilt (and not otherwise) I would abide their coming if it be not over
long delayed; so that there may be others to witness our wedding
besides God, and those his creatures who dwell in the wilderness. Yet
shall all be as thou wilt."

"How shall I not do after thy bidding?" said Ralph. "I will abide
their coming: yet would that they were here to-day! And one thing I
will pray of thee, that because of them thou wilt not forbear, or cause
me to forbear, such kissing and caressing as is meet betwixt
troth-plight lovers."

She laughed and said: "Nay, why should I torment thee...or me? We
will not tarry for this." And therewith she took her arm about his
neck and kissed him oft.

Then they said naught awhile, but sat listening happily to the song of
the pairing birds. At last Ralph said: "What was it, beloved, that
thou wert perchance to tell me concerning the thing that caused thine
heart to see that thy betrothed, for whom thou wepst or seemedst to
weep at the ale-house at Bourton Abbas, was of no avail to thee?"

She said: "It was the sight of thee; and I thought also how I might
never be thine. For that I have sorrowed many a time since."

Said Ralph: "I am young and unmighty, yet lo! I heal thy sorrow as if
I were an exceeding mighty man. And now I tell thee that I am minded
to go back with thee to Upmeads straightway; for love will prevail."

"Nay," she said, "that word is but from the teeth outwards; for thou
knowest, as I do, that the perils of the homeward road shall overcome
us, despite of love, if we have not drunk of the Well at the World's
End."

Again they were silent awhile, but anon she arose to her feet and said:
"Now must I needs dight victual for us twain; but first" (and she
smiled on him withal), "how is it that thou hast not asked me if the
beast did me any hurt? Art thou grown careless of me, now the wedding
is so nigh?"

He said: "Nay, but could I not see thee that thou wert not hurt?
There was no mark of blood upon thee, nor any stain at all." Then she
reddened, and said: "Ah, I forgot how keen-eyes thou art." And she
stood silent a little while, as he looked on her and loved her
sweetness. Then he said: "I am exceeding full of joy, but my body is
uneasy; so I will now go and skin that troll who went so nigh to slay
thee, and break up the carcase, if thou wilt promise to abide about the
door of the house, and have thy sword and the spear ready to hand, and
to don thine helm and hauberk to boot."

She laughed and said: "That were but strange attire for a cook-maid,
Ralph, my friend; yet shall I do thy will, my lord and my love."

Then went Ralph into the cave, and brought forth the armour and did it
on her, and kissed her, and so went his ways to the carcase of the
bear, which lay some two furlongs from their dwelling; and when he came
to the quarry he fell to work, and was some time about it, so huge as
the beast was. Then he hung the skin and the carcase on a tree of the
grove, and went down to the river and washed him, and then went lightly
homewards.



CHAPTER 14

Now Come the Messengers of the Innocent Folk


But when he had come forth from the chestnut-grove, and could see the
face of their house-rock clearly, he beheld new tidings; for there were
folk before the door of the dwelling, and Ursula was standing amidst of
them, for he could see the gleam of her armour; and with the men he
could see also certain beasts of burden, and anon that these were oxen.
So he hastened on to find what this might mean, and drew his sword as
he went. But when he came up to the rock, he found there two young men
and an elder, and they had with them five oxen, three for riding, and
two sumpter beasts, laden: and Ursula and these men were talking
together friendly; so that Ralph deemed that the new-comers must be the
messengers of the Innocent Folk. They were goodly men all three,
somewhat brown of skin, but well fashioned, and of smiling cheerful
countenance, well knit, and tall. The elder had a long white beard,
but his eye was bright, and his hand firm and smooth. They were all
clad in white woollen raiment, and bore no armour, but each had an axe
with a green stone blade, curiously tied to the heft, and each of the
young men carried a strong bow and a quiver of arrows.

Ralph greeted the men, and bade them sit down on the toft and eat a
morsel; they took his greeting kindly, and sat down, while Ursula went
into the cave to fetch them matters for their victual, and there was
already venison roasting at the fire on the toft, in the place where
they were wont to cook their meat. So then came Ursula forth from the
cave, and served the new-comers and Ralph of such things as she had,
and they ate and drank together; and none said aught of their errand
till they had done their meat, but they talked together pleasantly
about the spring, and the blossoms of the plain and the mountain, and
the wild things that dwelt thereabout.

But when the meal was over, the new-comers rose to their feet, and
bowed before Ralph and Ursula, and the elder took up the word and said:
"Ye fair people, have ye any errand in the wilderness, or are ye
chance-comers who have strayed thus far, and know not how to return?"

"Father," said Ralph, "we have come a long way on an errand of life or
death; for we seek the WELL at the WORLD'S END. And see ye the token
thereof, the pair of beads which we bear, either of us, and the fashion
whereof ye know."

Then the elder bowed to them again, and said: "It is well; then is
this our errand with you, to be your way-leaders as far as the House of
the Sorceress, where ye shall have other help. Will ye set out on the
journey to-day? In one hour shall we be ready."

"Nay," said Ralph, "we will not depart till tomorrow morn, if it may be
so. Therewith I bid you sit down and rest you, while ye hearken a word
which I have to say to you."

So they sat down again, and Ralph arose and took Ursula by the hand,
and stood with her before the elder, and said: "This maiden, who is my
fellow-farer in the Quest, I desire to wed this same night, and she
also desireth me: therefore I would have you as witnesses hereto. But
first ye shall tell us if our wedding and the knowing each other
carnally shall be to our hurt in the Quest; for if that be so, then
shall we bridle our desires and perform our Quest in their despite."

The old man smiled upon them kindly, and said: "Nay, son, we hear not
that it shall be the worse for you in any wise that ye shall become one
flesh; and right joyful it is to us, not only that we have found folk
who seek to the Well at the World's End, but also that there is such
love as I perceive there is betwixt such goodly and holy folk as ye be.
For hither we come year by year according to the behest that we made to
the fairest woman of the world, when she came back to us from the Well
at the World's End, and it is many and many a year ago since we found
any seekers after the Well dwelling here. Therefore have we the more
joy in you. And we have brought hither matters good for you, as
raiment, and meal, and wine, on our sumpter-beasts; therefore as ye
have feasted us this morning, so shall we feast you this even. And if
ye will, we shall build for you in the grove yonder such a bower as we
build for our own folk on the night of the wedding."

Ralph yeasaid this, and thanked them. So then the elder cried: "Up, my
sons, and show your deftness to these dear friends!" Then the young men
arose, naught loth, and when they had hoppled their oxen and taken the
burdens from off them, they all went down the meadow together into the
chestnut grove, and they fell to and cut willow boughs, and such-like
wood, and drave stakes and wove the twigs together; and Ralph and
Ursula worked with them as they bade, and they were all very merry
together: because for those two wanderers it was a great delight to see
the faces of the children of men once more after so many months, and to
hold converse with them; while for their part the young men marvelled
at Ursula's beauty, and the pith and goodliness of Ralph.

By then it was nigh evening they had made a very goodly wattled bower,
and roofed it with the skins that were in the cave, and hung it about
with garlands, and strewn flowers on the floor thereof. And when all
was done they went back to the toft before the rock-chamber, where the
elder had opened the loads, and had taken meal thence, and was making
cakes at the fire. And there was wine there in well-hooped kegs, and
wooden cups fairly carven, and raiment of fine white wool for those
twain, broidered in strange but beauteous fashion with the feathers of
bright-hued birds.

So then were those twain arrayed for the bridal; and the meat was dight
and the cups filled, and they sat down on the grassy toft a little
before sunset, and feasted till the night was come, and was grown all
light with the moon; and then Ralph rose up, and took Ursula's hand,
and they stood before the elder, and bade him and the young men bear
witness that they were wedded: then those twain kissed the newcomers
and departed to their bridal bower hand in hand through the freshness
of the night.



CHAPTER 15

They Come to the Land of the Innocent Folk


When it was morning they speedily gat them ready for the road, whereas
they had little to take with them; so they departed joyously, howbeit
both Ralph and Ursula felt rather love than loathing for their winter
abode. The day was yet young when they went their ways. Their horses
and all their gear were a great wonder to the young men, for they had
seen no such beasts before: but the elder said that once in his young
days he had led a man to the Well who was riding a horse and was clad
in knightly array.

So they went by ways which were nowise dreadful, though they were
void of men-folk, and in three days' time they were come out of the
mountains, and in three more the said mountains were to behold but a
cloud behind them, and the land was grown goodly, with fair valleys and
little hills, though still they saw no men, and forsooth they went
leisurely, for oxen are but slow-going nags. But when they were gone
eight days from the Valley of Sweet-chestnuts, they came across a
flock of uncouth-looking sheep on a green hill-side, and four folk
shepherding them, two carles to wit, and two queans, like to their
way-leaders, but scarce so goodly, and ruder of raiment. These men
greeted them kindly, and yet with more worship than fellowship, and
they marvelled exceedingly at their horses and weapons. Thence they
passed on, and the next day came into a wide valley, well-grassed and
watered, and wooded here and there; moreover there were cots scattered
about it. There and thenceforth they met men a many, both carles and
queans, and sheep and neat in plenty, and they passed by garths wherein
the young corn was waxing, and vineyards on the hillsides, where the
vines were beginning to grow green. The land seemed as goodly as might
be, and all the folk they met were kind, if somewhat over reverent.

On the evening of that day they came into the town of that folk, which
was but simple, wholly unfenced for war, and the houses but low, and
not great. Yet was there naught of filth or famine, nor any poverty or
misery; and the people were merry-faced and well-liking, and clad
goodly after their fashion in white woollen cloth or frieze. All the
people of the town were come forth to meet them, for runners had gone
before them, and they stood on either side of the way murmuring
greetings, and with their heads bent low in reverence.

Thus rode Ralph and Ursula up to the door of the Temple, or Mote-house,
or Guest-house, for it was all these, a house great, and as fair as
they knew how to make it. Before the door thereof were standing the
elders of the Folk; and when they drew rein, the eldest and most
reverend of these came forth and spake in a cheerful voice, yet
solemnly: "Welcome and thrice welcome to the Seekers after length of
days and happy times, and the loving-kindness of the Folks of the
Earth!"

Then all the elders gathered about them, and bade them light down and
be at rest amongst them, and they made much of them and brought them
into the Mote-house, where-in were both women and men fair and stately,
and the men took Ralph by the hand and the women Ursula, and brought
them into chambers where they bathed them and did off their wayfaring
raiment, and clad them in white woollen gowns of web exceeding fine,
and fragrant withal. Then they crowned them with flowers, and led them
back into the hall, whereas now was much folk gathered, and they set
them down on a dais as though they had been kings, or rather gods; and
when they beheld them there so fair and lovely, they cried out for joy
of them, and bade them hail oft and oft.

There then were they feasted by that kind folk, and when meat was done
certain youths and maidens fell to singing songs very sweetly; and the
words of the songs were simple and harmless, and concerning the
fairness of the earth and the happy loves of the creatures that dwell
therein.

Thereafter as the night aged, they were shown to a sleeping chamber,
which albeit not richly decked, or plenished with precious things, was
most dainty clean, and sweet smelling, and strewn with flowers, so that
the night was sweet to them in a chamber of love.



CHAPTER 16

They Come to the House of the Sorceress


On the morrow the kind people delayed them little, though they sorrowed
for their departure, and before noon were their old way-leaders ready
for them; and the old man and his two grandsons (for such they were)
were much honoured of the simple people for their way-leading of the
Heavenly Folk; for so they called Ralph and Ursula. So they gat them
to the way in suchlike guise as before, only they had with them five
sumpter oxen instead of two; for the old man told them that not only
was their way longer, but also they must needs pass through a terrible
waste, wherein was naught for their avail, neither man, nor beast, nor
herb. Even so they found it as he said; for after the first day's ride
from the town they came to the edge of this same waste, and on the
fourth day were deep in the heart of it: a desert it was, rather rocky
and stony and sandy than mountainous, though they had hills to cross
also: withal there was but little water there, and that foul and
stinking. Long lasted this waste, and Ralph thought indeed that it had
been hard to cross, had not their way-leaders been; therefore he made
marks and signs by the wayside, and took note of the bearings of rocks
and mounds against the day of return.

Twelve days they rode this waste, and on the thirteenth it began to
mend somewhat, and there was a little grass, and sweet waters, and they
saw ahead the swelling hills of a great woodland, albeit they had to
struggle through marshland and low scrubby thicket for a day longer, or
ever they got to the aforesaid trees, which at first were naught but
pines; but these failed in a while, and they rode a grass waste nearly
treeless, but somewhat well watered, where they gat them good store of
venison. Thereafter they came on woods of oak and sweet-chestnut, with
here and there a beech-wood.

Long and long they rode the woodland, but it was hard on May when they
entered it, and it was pleasant therein, and what with one thing, what
with another, they had abundant livelihood there. Yet was June at its
full when at last they came within sight of the House of the Sorceress,
on the hottest of a fair afternoon. And it was even as Ralph had seen
it pictured in the arras of the hall of the Castle of Abundance; a
little house built after the fashion of houses in his own land of the
west; the thatch was trim, and the windows and doors were unbroken, and
the garth was whole, and the goats feeding therein, and the wheat was
tall and blossoming in the little closes, where as he had looked to see
all broken down and wild, and as to the house, a mere grass-grown heap,
or at the most a broken gable fast crumbling away.

Then waxed his heart sore with the memory of that passed time, and the
sweetness of his short-lived love, though he refrained him all he
might: yet forsooth Ursula looked on him anxiously, so much his face
was changed by the thoughts of his heart.

But the elder of the way-leaders saw that he was moved, and deemed that
he was wondering at that house so trim and orderly amidst the wildwood,
so he said: "Here also do we after our behest to that marvellous and
lovely Lady, that we suffer not this house to go to ruin: ever are some
of our folk here, and every year about this season we send two or more
to take the places of those who have dwelt in the House year-long: so
ever is there someone to keep all things trim. But as to strangers, I
have never in my life seen any Seeker of the Well herein, save once,
and that was an old hoar man like to me, save that he was feebler in
all wise than I be."

Now Ralph heard him talking, yet noted his words but little; for it was
with him as if all the grief of heart which he had penned back for so
long a while swelled up within him and burst its bounds; and he turned
toward Ursula and their eyes met, and she looked shy and anxious on him
and he might no longer refrain himself, but put his hands to his face
(for they had now drawn rein at the garth-gate) and brake out a
weeping, and wept long for the friend whose feet had worn that path so
often, and whose heart, though she were dead, had brought them thither
for their thriving; and for love and sorrow of him Ursula wept also.

But the old man and his grandsons turned their heads away from his
weeping, and got off their horses, and went up to the house-door,
whereby were now standing a carle and a quean of their people. But
Ralph slowly gat off his horse and stood by Ursula who was on the
ground already, but would not touch her, for he was ashamed. But she
looked on him kindly and said: "Dear friend, there is no need for
shame; for though I be young, I know how grievous it is when the dead
that we have loved come across our ways, and we may not speak to them,
nor they to us. So I will but bid thee be comforted and abide in thy
love for the living and the dead." His tears brake out again at that
word, for he was but young, and for a while there was a lull in the
strife that had beset his days. But after a little he looked up, and
dashed the tears from his eyes and smiled on Ursula and said: "The
tale she told me of this place, the sweetness of it came back upon me,
and I might not forbear." She said: "O friend, thou art kind, and I
love thee."

So then they joined hands and went through the garth together, and up
to the door, where stood the wardens, who, when they saw them turning
thither, came speedily down the path to them, and would have knelt in
worship to them; but they would not suffer it, but embraced and kissed
them, and thanked them many times for their welcome. The said wardens,
both carle and quean, were goodly folk of middle age, stalwart, and
kind of face.

So then they went into the house together, and entered into the
self-same chamber, where of old the Lady of Abundance had sickened for
fear of the Sorceress sitting naked at her spell-work.

Great joy they made together, and the wardens set meat and drink before
the guests, and they ate and drank and were of good cheer. But the
elder who had brought them from Chestnut-dale said: "Dear friends, I
have told you that these two young men are my grand-children, and they
are the sons of this man and woman whom ye see; for the man is my son.
And so it is, that amongst us the care of the Quest of the Well at the
World's End hath for long been the heritage of our blood, going with us
from father to son. Therefore is it naught wonderful, though I have
been sundry times at this house, and have learned about the place all
that may be learned. For my father brought me hither when I was yet a
boy; that time it was that I saw the last man of whom we know for sure
that he drank of the Water of the Well, and he was that old hoar man
like unto me, but, as I said, far weaker in all wise; but when he came
back to us from the Well he was strong and stalwart, and a better man
than I am now; and I heard him tell his name to my father, that he was
called the Sage of Swevenham."

Ralph looked on Ursula and said: "Yea, father, and it was through him
that we had our lore concerning the way hither; and it was he that bade
us abide your coming in the rock-house of the Vale of Sweet-chestnuts."

"Then he is alive still," said the elder. Said Ralph: "Yea, and as
fair and strong an old man as ye may lightly see." "Yea, yea," said the
elder, "and yet fifty years ago his course seemed run."

Then said Ralph: "Tell me, father, have none of your own folk sought
to the Well at the World's End?" "Nay, none," said the elder. Said
Ralph: "That is strange, whereas ye are so nigh thereto, and have such
abundant lore concerning the way."

"Son," said the elder, "true it is that the water of that Well shall
cause a man to thrive in all ways, and to live through many generations
of men, maybe, in honour and good-liking; but it may not keep any man
alive for ever; for so have the Gods given us the gift of death lest we
weary of life. Now our folk live well and hale, and without the
sickness and pestilence, such as I have heard oft befall folk in other
lands: even as I heard the Sage of Swevenham say, and I wondered at his
words. Of strife and of war also we know naught: nor do we desire
aught which we may not easily attain to. Therefore we live long, and
we fear the Gods if we should strive to live longer, lest they should
bring upon us war and sickness, and over-weening desire, and weariness
of life. Moreover it is little that all of us should seek to the Well
at the World's End; and those few that sought and drank should be
stronger and wiser than the others, and should make themselves earthly
gods, and, maybe, should torment the others of us and make their lives
a very burden to be borne. Of such matters are there tales current
amongst us that so it hath been of yore and in other lands; and ill it
were if such times came back upon us."

Ralph hung his head and was silent; for the joy of the Quest seemed
dying out as the old man's words dropped slowly from his mouth. But he
smiled upon Ralph and went on: "But for you, guests, it is otherwise,
for ye of the World beyond the Mountains are stronger and more godlike
than we, as all tales tell; and ye wear away your lives desiring that
which ye may scarce get; and ye set your hearts on high things,
desiring to be masters of the very Gods. Therefore ye know sickness
and sorrow, and oft ye die before your time, so that ye must depart and
leave undone things which ye deem ye were born to do; which to all men
is grievous. And because of all this ye desire healing and thriving,
whether good come of it, or ill. Therefore ye do but right to seek to
the Well at the World's End, that ye may the better accomplish that
which behoveth you, and that ye may serve your fellows and deliver them
from the thralldom of those that be strong and unwise and unkind, of
whom we have heard strange tales."

Ralph reddened as he spake, and Ursula looked on him anxiously, but
that talk dropped for the present, and they fell to talking of lighter
and more familiar matters.

Thereafter they wandered about the woods with the wardens and the
way-leaders, and the elder brought them to the ancient altar in the
wood whereon the Sorceress had offered up the goat; and the howe of the
woman dight with the necklace of the Quest whom the Lady found dead in
the snow; and the place nigh the house where the Sorceress used to
torment her thrall that was afterwards the Lady of Abundance; yea, and
they went further afield till they came to the Vale of Lore, and the
Heath above it where they met, the King's Son and the Lady. All these
and other places were now become as hallowed ground to the Innocent
People, and to Ralph no less. In the house, moreover, was a fair ark
wherein they kept matters which had belonged to the Lady, as her shoes
and her smock, wrapped in goodly cloth amidst well-smelling herbs; and
these things they worshipped as folk do with relics of the saints. In
another ark also they showed the seekers a book wherein was written
lore concerning the Well, and the way thereto. But of this book had
the Sage forewarned Ralph and his mate, and had bidden them look to it
that they should read in it, and no otherwhere than at that ancient
altar in the wood, they two alone, and clad in such-like gear as they
wore when they hearkened to his reading by his hermitage. And so it
was that they found the due raiment in the ark along with the book.
Therefore day after day betimes in the morning they bore the said book
to the altar and read therein, till they had learned much wisdom.

Thus they did for eight days, and on the ninth they rested and were
merry with their hosts: but on the tenth day they mounted their horses
and said farewell, and departed by the ways they had learned of, they
two alone. And they had with them bread and meal, as much as they
might bear, and water-skins moreover, that they might fill them at the
last sweet water before they came to the waterless desert.



CHAPTER 17

They Come Through the Woodland to the Thirsty Desert


So they ride their ways, and when they were come well into the wildwood
past the house, and had spoken but few words to each other, Ralph put
forth his hand, and stayed Ursula, and they gat off their horses under
a great-limbed oak, and did off their armour, and sat down on the
greensward there, and loved each other dearly, and wept for joy of
their pain and travail and love. And afterwards, as they sat side by
side leaning up against the great oak-bole, Ralph spake and said: "Now
are we two once again all alone in the uttermost parts of the earth,
and belike we are not very far from the Well at the World's End; and
now I have bethought me that if we gain that which we seek for, and
bear back our lives to our own people, the day may come when we are
grown old, for as young as we may seem, that we shall be as lonely then
as we are this hour, and that the folk round about us shall be to us as
much and no more than these trees and the wild things that dwell
amongst them."

She looked on him and laughed as one over-happy, and said: "Thou
runnest forward swiftly to meet trouble, beloved! But I say that well
will it be in those days if I love the folk then as well as now I love
these trees and the wild things whose house they are."

And she rose up therewith and threw her arms about the oak-bole and
kissed its ruggedness, while Ralph as he lay kissed the sleekness of
her feet. And there came a robin hopping over the leaves anigh them,
for in that wood most of the creatures, knowing not man, were tame to
him, and feared the horses of those twain more than their riders. And
now as Ursula knelt to embrace Ralph with one hand, she held out the
other to the said robin who perched on her wrist, and sat there as a
hooded falcon had done, and fell to whistling his sweet notes, as if he
were a-talking to those new-comers: then Ursula gave him a song-reward
of their broken meat, and he flew up and perched on her shoulder, and
nestled up against her cheek, and she laughed happily and said: "Lo
you, sweet, have not the wild things understood my words, and sent this
fair messenger to foretell us all good?"

"It is good," said Ralph laughing, "yet the oak-tree hath not spoken
yet, despite of all thy kissing: and lo there goes thy friend the
robin, now thou hast no more meat to give him."

"He is flying towards the Well at the World's End," she said, "and
biddeth us onward: let us to horse and hasten: for if thou wilt have
the whole truth concerning my heart, it is this, that some chance-hap
may yet take thee from me ere thou hast drunk of the waters of the
Well."

"Yea," said Ralph, "and in the innermost of my heart lieth the fear
that mayhappen there is no Well, and no healing in it if we find it,
and that death, and the backward way may yet sunder us. This is the
worst of my heart, and evil is my coward fear."

But she cast her arms about him and kissed and caressed him, and cried
out: "Yea, then fair have been the days of our journeying, and fair
this hour of the green oak! And bold and true thine heart that hath
led thee thus far, and won thee thy desire of my love."

So then they armed them, and mounted their horses and set forward.
They lived well while they were in the wood, but on the third day they
came to where it thinned and at last died out into a stony waste like
unto that which they had passed through before they came to the House
of the Sorceress, save that this lay in ridges as the waves of a great
sea; and these same ridges they were bidden to cross over at their
highest, lest they should be bewildered in a maze of little hills and
dales leading no whither.

So they entered on this desert, having filled their water-skins at a
clear brook, whereat they rejoiced when they found that the face of the
wilderness was covered with a salt scurf, and that naught grew there
save a sprinkling of small sage bushes.

Now on the second day of their riding this ugly waste, as they came up
over the brow of one of these stony ridges, Ralph the far-sighted cried
out suddenly: "Hold! for I see a man weaponed."

"Where is he?" quoth Ursula, "and what is he about?" Said Ralph: "He
is up yonder on the swell of the next ridge, and by seeming is asleep
leaning against a rock."

Then he bent the Turk bow and set an arrow on the string and they went
on warily. When they were down at the foot of the ridge Ralph hailed
the man with a lusty cry, but gat no answer of him; so they went on up
the bent, till Ralph said: "Now I can see his face under his helm, and
it is dark and the eyes are hollow: I will off horse and go up to him
afoot, but do thou, beloved, sit still in thy saddle."

But when he had come nigher, he turned and cried out to her: "The man
is dead, come anigh." So she went up to him and dismounted, and they
both together stood over the man, who was lying up against a big stone
like one at rest. How long he had lain there none knows but God; for
in the saltness of the dry desert the flesh had dried on his bones
without corrupting, and was as hardened leather. He was in full armour
of a strange and ancient fashion, and his sword was girt to his side,
neither was there any sign of a wound about him. Under a crag anigh
him they found his horse, dead and dry like to himself; and a little
way over the brow of the ridge another horse in like case; and close by
him a woman whose raiment had not utterly perished, nor her hair; there
were gold rings on her arms, and her shoes were done with gold: she had
a knife stuck in her breast, with her hand still clutching the handle
thereof; so that it seemed that she had herself given herself death.

Ralph and Ursula buried these two with the heaping of stones and went
their ways; but some two miles thence they came upon another dead
man-at-arms, and near him an old man unweaponed, and they heaped stones
on them.

Thereabout night overtook them, and it was dark, so they lay down in
the waste, and comforted each other, and slept two or three hours, but
arose with the first glimmer of dawn, and mounted and rode forth
onward, that they might the sooner be out of that deadly desert, for
fear clung to their hearts.

This day, forsooth, they found so many dead folk, that they might not
stay to bury them, lest they themselves should come to lie there
lacking burial. So they made all the way they might, and rode on some
hours by starlight after the night was come, for it was clear and cold.
So that at last they were so utterly wearied that they lay down amongst
those dead folk, and slept soundly.

On the morrow morn Ralph awoke and saw Ursula sleeping peacefully as he
deemed, and he looked about on the dreary desert and its dead men and
saw no end to it, though they lay on the top of one of those stony
bents; and he said softly to himself: "Will it end at all then? Surely
all this people of the days gone by were Seekers of the Well as we be;
and have they belike turned back from somewhere further on, and
might not escape the desert despite of all? Shall we turn now: shall
we turn? surely we might get into the kindly wood from here."

So he spake; but Ursula sat up (for she was not asleep) and said: "The
perils of the waste being abundant and exceeding hard to face, would
not the Sage or his books have told us of the most deadly?" Said Ralph:
"Yet here are all these dead, and we were not told of them,
nevertheless we have seen the token on the rocks oft-times yesterday,
so we are yet in the road, unless all this hath been but a snare and a
betrayal."

She shook her head, and was silent a little; then she said: "Ralph, my
lad, didst thou see this token (and she set hand to the beads about her
neck) on any of those dead folk yesterday?" "Nay," said Ralph, "though
sooth to say I looked for it." "And I in likewise," she said; "for
indeed I had misgivings as the day grew old; but now I say, let us on
in the faith of that token and the kindness of the Sage, and the love
of the Innocent People; yea, and thy luck, O lad of the green fields
far away, that hath brought thee unscathed so far from Upmeads."

So they mounted and rode forth, and saw more and more of the dead folk;
and ever and anon they looked to them to note if they wore the beads
like to them but saw none so dight. Then Ursula said: "Yea, why should
the Sage and the books have told us aught of these dead bodies, that
are but as the plenishing of the waste; like to the flowers that are
cast down before the bier of a saint on a holy-day to be trodden under
foot by the churls and the vicars of the close. Forsooth had they been
alive now, with swords to smite withal, and hands to drag us into
captivity, it had been another matter: but against these I feel bold."

Ralph sighed, and said: "Yea, but even if we die not in the waste, yet
this is piteous; so many lives passed away, so many hopes slain."

"Yea," she said; "but do not folk die there in the world behind us? I
have seen sights far worser than this at Utterbol, little while as I
was there. Moreover I can note that this army of dead men has not come
all in one day or one year, but in a long, long while, by one and two
and three; for hast thou not noted that their raiment and wargear both,
is of many fashions, and some much more perished than other, long as
things last in this Dry Waste? I say that men die as in the world
beyond, but here we see them as they lie dead, and have lain for so
long."

He said: "I fear neither the Waste nor the dead men if thou fearest
not, beloved: but I lament for these poor souls."

"And I also," said she; "therefore let us on, that we may come to those
whose grief we may heal."



CHAPTER 18

They Come to the Dry Tree


Presently as they rode they had before them one of the greatest of
those land-waves, and they climbed it slowly, going afoot and leading
their horses; but when they were but a little way from the brow they
saw, over a gap thereof, something, as it were huge horns rising up
into the air beyond the crest of the ridge. So they marvelled, and
drew their swords, and held them still awhile, misdoubting if this were
perchance some terrible monster of the waste; but whereas the thing
moved not at all, they plucked up heart and fared on.

So came they to the brow and looked over it into a valley, about which
on all sides went the ridge, save where it was broken down into a
narrow pass on the further side, so that the said valley was like to
one of those theatres of the ancient Roman Folk, whereof are some to
be seen in certain lands. Neither did those desert benches lack their
sitters; for all down the sides of the valley sat or lay children of
men; some women, but most men-folk, of whom the more part were
weaponed, and some with their drawn swords in their hands. Whatever
semblance of moving was in them was when the eddying wind of the valley
stirred the rags of their raiment, or the long hair of the women. But
a very midmost of this dreary theatre rose up a huge and monstrous
tree, whose topmost branches were even the horns which they had
seen from below the hill's brow. Leafless was that tree and lacking of
twigs, and its bole upheld but some fifty of great limbs, and as they
looked on it, they doubted whether it were not made by men's hands
rather than grown up out of the earth. All round about the roots of it
was a pool of clear water, that cast back the image of the valley-side
and the bright sky of the desert, as though it had been a mirror of
burnished steel. The limbs of that tree were all behung with blazoned
shields and knight's helms, and swords, and spears, and axes, and
hawberks; and it rose up into the air some hundred feet above the flat
of the valley.

For a while they looked down silently on to this marvel then from both
their lips at once came the cry THE DRY TREE. Then Ralph thrust his
sword back into his sheath and said: "Meseems I must needs go down
amongst them; there is naught to do us harm here; for all these are
dead like the others that we saw."

Ursula turned to him with burning cheeks and sparkling eyes, and said
eagerly: "Yea, yea, let us go down, else might we chance to miss
something that we ought to wot of."

Therewith she also sheathed her sword, and they went both of them
down together, and that easily; for as aforesaid the slope was as if it
had been cut into steps for their feet. And as they passed by the dead
folk, for whom they had often to turn aside, they noted that each of
the dead leathery faces was drawn up in a grin as though they had died
in pain, and yet beguiled, so that all those visages looked somewhat
alike, as though they had come from the workshop of one craftsman.

At last Ralph and Ursula stood on the level ground underneath the Tree,
and they looked up at the branches, and down to the water at their
feet; and now it seemed to them as though the Tree had verily growth in
it, for they beheld its roots, that they went out from the mound or
islet of earth into the water, and spread abroad therein, and seemed to
waver about. So they walked around the Tree, and looked up at the
shields that hung on its branches, but saw no blazon that they knew,
though they were many and diverse; and the armour also and weapons
were very diverse of fashion.

Now when they were come back again to the place where they had first
stayed, Ralph said: "I thirst, and so belike dost thou; and here is
water good and clear; let us drink then, and so spare our water-skins,
for belike the dry desert is yet long." And therewith he knelt down
that he might take of the water in the hollow of his hand. But Ursula
drew him back, and cried out in terror: "O Ralph, do it not! Seest
thou not this water, that although it be bright and clear, so that we
may see all the pebbles at the bottom, yet nevertheless when the wind
eddies about, and lifts the skirts of our raiment, it makes no ripple
on the face of the pool, and doubtless it is heavy with venom; and
moreover there is no sign of the way hereabout, as at other
watering-steads; O forbear, Ralph!"

Then he rose up and drew back with her but slowly and unwillingly as
she deemed; and they stood together a while gazing on these marvels.
But lo amidst of this while, there came a crow wheeling over the valley
of the dead, and he croaked over the Dry Tree, and let himself drop
down to the edge of the pool, whereby he stalked about a little after
the manner of his kind. Then he thrust his neb into the water and
drank, and thereafter took wing again; but ere he was many feet off the
ground he gave a grievous croak, and turning over in the air fell down
stark dead close to the feet of those twain; and Ralph cried out but
spake no word with meaning therein; then said Ursula: "Yea, thus are
we saved from present death." Then she looked in Ralph's face, and
turned pale and said hastily: "O my friend how is it with thee?" But
she waited not for an answer, but turned her face to the bent whereby
they had come down, and cried out in a loud, shrill voice: "O Ralph,
Ralph! look up yonder to the ridge whereby we left our horses; look,
look! there glitters a spear and stirreth! and lo a helm underneath the
spear: tarry not, let us save our horses!"

Then Ralph let a cry out from his mouth, and set off running to the
side of the slope, and fell to climbing it with great strides, not
heeding Ursula; but she followed close after, and scrambled up with
foot and hand and knee, till she stood beside him on the top, and he
looked around wildly and cried out: "Where! where are they?"

"Nowhere," she said, "it was naught but my word to draw thee from
death; but praise to the saints that thou are come alive out of the
accursed valley."

He seemed not to hearken, but turned about once, and beat the air with
his hands, and then fell down on his back and with a great wail she
cast herself upon him, for she deemed at first that he was dead. But
she took a little water from one of their skins, and cast it into his
face, and took a flask of cordial from her pouch, and set it to his
lips, and made him drink somewhat thereof. So in a while he came to
himself and opened his eyes and smiled upon her, and she took his head
in her hands and kissed his cheek, and he sat up and said feebly:
"Shall we not go down into the valley? there is naught there to harm
us."

"We have been down there already," she said, "and well it is that we
are not both lying there now."

Then he got to his feet, and stretched himself, and yawned like one
just awakened from long sleep. But she said: "Let us to horse and
begone; it is early hours to slumber, for those that are seeking the
Well at the World's End."

He smiled on her again and took her hand, and she led him to his
horse, and helped him till he was in the saddle and lightly she gat
a-horseback, and they rode away swiftly from that evil place; and after
a while Ralph was himself again, and remembered all that had happened
till he fell down on the brow of the ridge. Then he praised Ursula's
wisdom and valiancy till she bade him forbear lest he weary her.
Albeit she drew up close to him and kissed his face sweetly.



CHAPTER 19

They Come Out of the Thirsty Desert


Past the Valley of the Dry Tree they saw but few dead men lying about,
and soon they saw never another: and, though the land was still utterly
barren, and all cast up into ridges as before, yet the salt slime grew
less and less, and before nightfall of that day they had done with it:
and the next day those stony waves were lower; and the next again the
waste was but a swelling plain, and here and there they came on patches
of dwarf willow, and other harsh and scanty herbage, whereof the horses
might have a bait, which they sore needed, for now was their fodder
done: but both men and horses were sore athirst; for, as carefully as
they had hoarded their water, there was now but little left, which they
durst not drink till they were driven perforce, lest they should yet
die of drought.

They journeyed long that day, and whereas the moon was up at night-tide
they lay not down till she was set; and their resting place was by some
low bushes, whereabout was rough grass mingled with willow-herb,
whereby Ralph judged that they drew nigh to water, so or ever they
slept, they and the horses all but emptied the water-skins. They heard
some sort of beasts roaring in the night, but they were too weary to
watch, and might not make a fire.

When Ralph awoke in the morning he cried out that he could see the
woodland; and Ursula arose at his cry and looked where he pointed, and
sure enough there were trees on a rising ground some two miles ahead,
and beyond them, not very far by seeming, they beheld the tops of great
dark mountains. On either hand moreover, nigh on their right hand, far
off on their left, ran a reef of rocks, so that their way seemed to be
as between two walls. And these said reefs were nowise like those that
they had seen of late, but black and, as to their matter, like to the
great mountains by the rock of the Fighting Man: but as the reefs ran
eastward they seemed to grow higher.

Now they mounted their horses at once and rode on; and the beasts
were as eager as they were, and belike smelt the water. So when they
had ridden but three miles, they saw a fair little river before them
winding about exceedingly, but flowing eastward on the whole. So they
spurred on with light hearts and presently were on the banks of the
said river, and its waters were crystal-clear, though its sands were
black: and the pink-blossomed willow-herb was growing abundantly on the
sandy shores. Close to the water was a black rock, as big as a man,
whereon was graven the sign of the way, so they knew that there was no
evil in the water, wherefore they drank their fill and watered their
horses abundantly, and on the further bank was there abundance of good
grass. So when they had drunk their fill, for the pleasure of the cool
water they waded the ford barefoot, and it was scarce above Ursula's
knee. Then they had great joy to lie on the soft grass and eat their
meat, while the horses tore eagerly at the herbage close to them. So
when they had eaten, they rested awhile, but before they went further
they despoiled them, one after other, and bathed in a pool of the river
to wash the foul wilderness off them. Then again they rested and let
the horses yet bite the grass, and departed not from that pleasant
place till it was two hours after noon. As they were lying there Ralph
said he could hear a great roar like the sound of many waters, but very
far off: but to Ursula it seemed naught but the wind waxing in the
boughs of the woodland anigh them.



CHAPTER 20

They Come to the Ocean Sea


Being come to the wood they went not very far into it that day, for
they were minded to rest them after the weariness of the wilderness:
they feasted on a hare which Ralph shot, and made a big fire to keep
off evil beasts, but none came nigh them, though they heard the voices
of certain beasts as the night grew still. To be short, they slept far
into the morrow's morn, and then, being refreshed, and their horses
also, they rode strongly all day, and found the wood to be not very
great; for before sunset they were come to its outskirts, and the
mountains lay before them. These were but little like to that huge
wall they had passed through on their way to Chestnut-dale, being
rather great hills than mountains, grass-grown, and at their feet
somewhat wooded, and by seeming not over hard to pass over.

The next day they entered them by a pass marked with the token,
which led them about by a winding way till they were on the side of
the biggest fell of all; so there they rested that night in a fair little
hollow or dell in the mountain-side. There in the stillness of the
night both Ursula, as well as Ralph, heard that roaring of a great
water, and they said to each other that it must be the voice of the
Sea, and they rejoiced thereat, for they had learned by the Sage and
his books that they must needs come to the verge of the Ocean-Sea,
which girdles the earth about. So they arose betimes on the morrow,
and set to work to climb the mountain, going mostly a-foot; and the way
was long, but not craggy or exceeding steep, so that in five hours'
time they were at the mountain-top, and coming over the brow beheld
beneath them fair green slopes besprinkled with trees, and beyond them,
some three or four miles away, the blue landless sea and on either hand
of them was the sea also, so that they were nigh-hand at the ending of
a great ness, and there was naught beyond it; and naught to do if they
missed the Well, but to turn back by the way they had come.

Now when they saw this they were exceedingly moved and they looked
on one another, and each saw that the other was pale, with glistening
eyes, since they were to come to the very point of their doom, and that
it should be seen whether there were no such thing as the Well in all
the earth, but that they had been chasing a fair-hued cloud; or else
their Quest should be achieved and they should have the world before
them, and they happy and mighty, and of great worship amidst all men.

Little they tarried, but gat them down the steep of the mountain, and
so lower and lower till they were come to ground nigh level; and then
at last it was but thus, that without any great rock-wall or girdle of
marvellous and strange land, there was an end of earth, with its grass
and trees and streams, and a beginning of the ocean, which stretched
away changeless, and it might be for ever. Where the land ended there
was but a cliff of less than an hundred feet above the eddying of the
sea; and on the very point of the ness was a low green toft with a
square stone set atop of it, whereon as they drew nigh they saw the
token graven, yea on each face thereof.

Then they went along the edge of the cliff a mile on each side of the
said toft, and then finding naught else to note, naught save the grass
and the sea, they came back to that place of the token, and sat down on
the grass of the toft.

It was now evening, and the sun was setting beyond them, but they
could behold a kind of stair cut in the side of the cliff, and on the first
step whereof was the token done; wherefore they knew that they were
bidden to go down by the said stair; but it seemed to lead no whither,
save straight into the sea. And whiles it came into Ralph's mind that
this was naught but a mock, as if to bid the hapless seekers cast
themselves down from the earth, and be done with it for ever. But in
any case they might not try the adventure of that stair by the failing
light, and with the night long before them. So when they had hoppled
their horses, and left them to graze at their will on the sweet grass
of the meadow, they laid them down behind the green toft, and, being
forwearied, it was no long time ere they twain slept fast at the
uttermost end of the world.



CHAPTER 21

Now They Drink of the Well at the World's End


Ralph awoke from some foolish morning dream of Upmeads, wondering
where he was, or what familiar voice had cried out his name: then he
raised himself on his elbow, and saw Ursula standing before him with
flushed face and sparkling eyes, and she was looking out seaward, while
she called on his name. So he sprang up and strove with the slumber
that still hung about him, and as his eyes cleared he looked down, and
saw that the sea, which last night had washed the face of the cliff,
had now ebbed far out, and left bare betwixt the billows and the cliff
some half mile of black sand, with rocks of the like hue rising out of it
here and there. But just below the place where they stood, right up
against the cliff, was builded by man's hand of huge stones a garth of
pound, the wall whereof was some seven feet high, and the pound within
the wall of forty feet space endlong and overthwart; and the said pound
was filled with the waters of a spring that came forth from the face of
the cliff as they deemed, though from above they might not see the
issue thereof; but the water ran seaward from the pound by some way
unseen, and made a wide stream through the black sand of the foreshore:
but ever the great basin filled somewhat faster than it voided, so that
it ran over the lip on all sides, making a thin veil over the huge
ashlar-stones of the garth. The day was bright and fair with no wind,
save light airs playing about from the westward ort, and all things
gleamed and glittered in the sun.

Ralph stood still a moment, and then stretched abroad his arms, and
with a great sob cast them round about the body of his beloved, and
strained her to his bosom as he murmured about her, THE WELL AT THE
WORLD'S END. But she wept for joy as she fawned upon him, and let her
hands beat upon his body.

But when they were somewhat calmed of their ecstasy of joy, they
made ready to go down by that rocky stair. And first they did off their
armour and other gear, and when they were naked they did on the
hallowed raiment which they had out of the ark in the House of the
Sorceress; and so clad gat them down the rock-hewn stair, Ralph going
first, lest there should be any broken place; but naught was amiss with
those hard black stones, and they came safely to a level place of the
rock, whence they could see the face of the cliff, and how the waters
of the Well came gushing forth from a hollow therein in a great
swelling wave as clear as glass; and the sun glistened in it and made a
foam-bow about its edges. But above the issue of the waters the black
rock had been smoothed by man's art, and thereon was graven the Sword
and the Bough, and above it these words, to wit:

YE WHO HAVE COME A LONG WAY TO LOOK UPON ME, DRINK OF ME, IF YE DEEM
THAT YE BE STRONG ENOUGH IN DESIRE TO BEAR LENGTH OF DAYS: OR ELSE
DRINK NOT; BUT TELL YOUR FRIENDS AND THE KINDREDS OF THE EARTH HOW YE
HAVE SEEN A GREAT MARVEL.

So they looked long and wondered; and Ursula said: "Deemest thou, my
friend, that any have come thus far and forborne to drink?"

Said Ralph: "Surely not even the exceeding wise might remember the
bitterness of his wisdom as he stood here."

Then he looked on her and his face grew bright beyond measure, and
cried out: "O love, love! why tarry we? For yet I fear lest we be come
too late, and thou die before mine eyes ere yet thou hast drunken."

"Yea," she said, "and I also fear for thee, though thy face is ruddy
and thine eyes sparkle, and thou art as lovely as the Captain of the
Lord's hosts."

Then she laughed, and her laughter was as silver bells rung tunably,
and she said: "But where is the cup for the drinking?"

But Ralph looked on the face of the wall, and about the height of his
hand saw square marks thereon, as though there were an ambrye; and
amidst the square was a knop of latten, all green with the weather and
the salt spray. So Ralph set his hand to the knop and drew strongly,
and lo it was a door made of a squared stone hung on brazen hinges, and
it opened easily to him, and within was a cup of goldsmith's work, with
the sword and the bough done thereon; and round about the rim writ this
posey: "THE STRONG OF HEART SHALL DRINK FROM ME." So Ralph took
it and held it aloft so that its pure metal flashed in the sun, and he said:
"This is for thee, Sweetling."

"Yea, and for thee," she said.

Now that level place, or bench-table went up to the very gushing and
green bow of the water, so Ralph took Ursula's hand and led her along,
she going a little after him, till he was close to the Well, and stood
amidst the spray-bow thereof, so that he looked verily like one of the
painted angels on the choir wall of St. Laurence of Upmeads. Then he
reached forth his hand and thrust the cup into the water, holding it
stoutly because the gush of the stream was strong, so that the water of
the Well splashed all over him, wetting Ursula's face and breast
withal: and he felt that the water was sweet without any saltness of
the sea. But he turned to Ursula and reached out the full cup to her,
and said: "Sweetling, call a health over the cup!"

She took it and said: "To thy life, beloved!" and drank withal, and
her eyes looked out of the cup the while, like a child's when he
drinketh. Then she gave him the cup again and said: "Drink, and tarry
not, lest thou die and I live."

Then Ralph plunged the cup into the waters again, and he held the cup
aloft, and cried out: "To the Earth, and the World of Manfolk!" and
therewith he drank.

For a minute then they clung together within the spray-bow of the Well,
and then she took his hand and led him back to the midst of the
bench-table, and he put the cup into the ambrye, and shut it up again,
and then they sat them down on the widest of the platform under the
shadow of a jutting rock; for the sun was hot; and therewithal a sweet
weariness began to steal over them, though there was speech betwixt
them for a little, and Ralph said: "How is it with thee, beloved?"

"O well indeed," she said.

Quoth he: "And how tasteth to thee the water of the Well?"

Slowly she spake and sleepily: "It tasted good, and as if thy love
were blended with it."

And she smiled in his face; but he said: "One thing I wonder over: how
shall we wot if we have drunk aright? For whereas if we were sick or
old and failing, or ill-liking, and were now presently healed of all
this, and become strong and fair to look on, then should we know it for
sure--but now, though, as I look on thee, I behold thee the fairest of
all women, and on thy face is no token of toil and travail, and the
weariness of the way; and though the heart-ache of loneliness and
captivity, and the shame of Utterbol has left no mark upon thee--yet
hast thou not always been sweet to my eyes, and as sweet as might be?
And how then?"...But he broke off and looked on her and she smiled upon
the love in his eyes, and his head fell back and he slept with a calm
and smiling face. And she leaned over him to kiss his face but even
therewith her own eyes closed and she laid her head upon his breast,
and slept as peacefully as he.



CHAPTER 22

Now They Have Drunk and Are Glad


Long they slept till the shadows were falling from the west, and the
sea was flowing fast again over the sands beneath them, though there
was still a great space bare betwixt the cliff and the sea. Then spake
Ursula as if Ralph had but just left speaking; and she said: "Yea, dear
lord, and I also say, that, lovely as thou art now, never hast thou
been aught else but lovely to me. But tell me, hast thou had any scar
of a hurt upon thy body? For if now that were gone, surely it should
be a token of the renewal of thy life. But if it be not gone, then
there may yet be another token."

Then he stood upon his feet, and she cried out: "O but thou art fair
and mighty, who now shall dare gainsay thee? Who shall not long for
thee?"

Said Ralph: "Look, love! how the sea comes over the sand like the
creeping of a sly wood-snake! Shall we go hence and turn from the
ocean-sea without wetting our bodies in its waters?"

"Let us go," she said.

So they went down on to the level sands, and along the edges of the
sweet-water stream that flowed from the Well; and Ralph said: "Beloved,
I will tell thee of that which thou hast asked me: when I was but a lad
of sixteen winters there rode men a-lifting into Upmeads, and Nicholas
Longshanks, who is a wise man of war, gathered force and went against
them, and I must needs ride beside him. Now we came to our above, and
put the thieves to the road; but in the hurly I got a claw from the
war-beast, for the stroke of a sword sheared me off somewhat from my
shoulder: belike thou hast seen the scar and loathed it."

"It is naught loathsome," she said, "for a lad to be a bold warrior,
nor for a grown man to think lightly of the memory of death drawn near
for the first time. Yea, I have noted it but let me see now what has
befallen with it."

As she spoke they were come to a salt pool in a rocky bight on their
right hand, which the tide was filling speedily; and Ralph spake: "See
now, this is the bath of the water of the ocean sea." So they were
speedily naked and playing in the water: and Ursula took Ralph by the
arm and looked to his shoulder and said: "O my lad of the pale edges,
where is gone thy glory? There is no mark of the sword's pilgrimage on
thy shoulder." "Nay, none?" quoth he.

"None, none!" she said, "Didst thou say the very sooth of thy hurt in
the battle, O poor lad of mine?" "Yea, the sooth," said he. Then she
laughed sweetly and merrily like the chuckle of a flute over the
rippling waters, that rose higher and higher about them, and she turned
her eyes askance and looked adown to her own sleek side, and laid her
hand on it and laughed again. Then said Ralph: "What is toward,
beloved? For thy laugh is rather of joy that of mirth alone."

She said: "O smooth-skinned warrior, O Lily and Rose of battle; here
on my side yesterday was the token of the hart's tyne that gored me
when I was a young maiden five years ago: look now and pity the maiden
that lay on the grass of the forest, and the woodman a-passing by
deemed her dead five years ago."

Ralph stooped down as the ripple washed away from her, then said: "In
sooth here is no mark nor blemish, but the best handiwork of God, as
when he first made a woman from the side of the Ancient Father of the
field of Damask. But lo you love, how swift the tide cometh up, and I
long to see thy feet on the green grass, and I fear the sea, lest it
stir the joy over strongly in our hearts and we be not able to escape
from its waves."

So they went up from out of the water, and did on the hallowed raiment
fragrant with strange herbs, and passed joyfully up the sand towards
the cliff and its stair; and speedily withal, for so soon as they were
clad again, the little ripple of the sea was nigh touching their feet.
As they went, they noted that the waters of the Well flowed seaward
from the black-walled pound by three arched openings in its outer face,
and they beheld the mason's work, how goodly it was; for it was as if
it had been cut out of the foot of a mountain, so well jointed were its
stones, and its walls solid against any storm that might drive against
it.

They climbed the stair, and sat them down on the green grass awhile
watching the ocean coming in over the sand and the rocks, and Ralph
said: "I will tell thee, sweetling, that I am grown eager for the road;
though true it is that whiles I was down yonder amidst the ripple of
the sea I longed for naught but thee, though thou wert beside me, and
thy joyous words were as fire to the heart of my love. But now that I
am on the green grass of the earth I called to mind a dream that came
to me when we slept after the precious draught of the Well: for
methought that I was standing before the porch of the Feast-hall of
Upmeads and holding thine hand, and the ancient House spake to me
with the voice of a man, greeting both thee and me, and praising thy
goodliness and valiancy. Surely then it is calling me to deeds, and if
it were but morning, as it is now drawing towards sunset, we would
mount and be gone straightway."

"Surely," she said, "thou hast drunk of the Well, and the fear of thee
has already entered into the hearts of thy foemen far away, even as
the love of thee constraineth me as I lie by thy side; but since it is
evening and sunset, let it be evening, and let the morning see to its
own matters. So now let us be pilgrims again, and eat the meal of
pilgrims, and see to our horses, and then wander about this lovely
wilderness and its green meads, where no son of man heedeth the wild
things, till the night come, bringing to us the rest and the sleep of
them that have prevailed over many troubles."

Even so they did, and broke bread above the sea, and looked to their
horses, and then went hand in hand about the goodly green bents betwixt
the sea and the rough of the mountain; and it was the fairest and
softest of summer evenings; and the deer of that place, both little and
great, had no fear of man, but the hart and hind came to Ursula's hand;
and the thrushes perched upon her shoulder, and the hares gambolled
together close to the feet of the twain; so that it seemed to them that
they had come into the very Garden of God; and they forgat all the many
miles of the waste and the mountain that lay before them, and they had
no thought for the strife of foemen and the thwarting of kindred, that
belike awaited them in their own land, but they thought of the love and
happiness of the hour that was passing. So sweetly they wore through
the last minutes of the day, and when it was as dark as it would be in
that fair season, they lay down by the green knoll at the ending of the
land, and were lulled to sleep by the bubbling of the Well at the
World's End.




BOOK FOUR: The Road Home.



CHAPTER 1

Ralph and Ursula Come Back Again Through the Great Mountains


On the morrow morning they armed them and took to their horses and
departed from that pleasant place and climbed the mountain without
weariness, and made provision of meat and drink for the Dry Desert, and
so entered it, and journeyed happily with naught evil befalling them
till they came back to the House of the Sorceress; and of the Desert
they made little, and the wood was pleasant to them after the drought
of the Desert.

But at the said House they saw those kind people, and they saw in their
eager eyes as in a glass how they had been bettered by their drinking
of the Well, and the Elder said to them: "Dear friends, there is no
need to ask you whether ye have achieved your quest; for ye, who before
were lovely, are now become as the very Gods who rule the world. And
now methinks we have to pray you but one thing, to wit that ye will not
be overmuch of Gods, but will be kind and lowly with them that needs
must worship you."

They laughed on him for kindness' sake, and kissed and embraced the old
man, and they thanked them all for their helping, and they abode with
them for a whole day in good-will and love, and thereafter the carle,
who was the son of the Elder, with his wife, bade farewell to his
kinsmen, and led Ralph and Ursula back through the wood and over the
desert to the town of the Innocent Folk. The said Folk received them
in all joy and triumph, and would have them abide there the winter
over. But they prayed leave to depart, because their hearts were sore
for their own land and their kindred. So they abode there but two
days, and on the third day were led away by a half score of men gaily
apparelled after their manner, and having with them many sumpter-beasts
with provision for the road. With this fellowship they came safely and
with little pain unto Chestnut Vale, where they abode but one night,
though to Ralph and Ursula the place was sweet for the memory of their
loving sojourn there.

They would have taken leave of the Innocent Folk in the said vale, but
those others must needs go with them a little further, and would not
leave them till they were come to the jaws of the pass which led to the
Rock of the Fighting Man. Further than that indeed they would not, or
durst not go; and those huge mountains they called the Wall of Strife,
even as they on the other side called them the Wall of the World.

So the twain took leave of their friends there, and howbeit that they
had drunk of the Well at the World's End, yet were their hearts grieved
at the parting. The kind folk left with them abundant provision for
the remnant of the road, and a sumpter-ox to bear it; so they were in
no doubt of their livelihood. Moreover, though the turn of autumn was
come again and winter was at hand, yet the weather was fair and calm,
and their journey through the dreary pass was as light as it might be
to any men.



CHAPTER 2

They Hear New Tidings of Utterbol


It was on a fair evening of later autumn-tide that they won their way
out of the Gates of the Mountains, and came under the rock of the
Fighting Man. There they kissed and comforted each other in memory of
the terror and loneliness wherewith they had entered the Mountains that
other time; though, sooth to say, it was to them now like the reading
of sorrow in a book.

But when they came out with joyful hearts into the green plain betwixt
the mountains and the River of Lava, they looked westward, and beheld
no great way off a little bower or cot, builded of boughs and rushes by
a blackthorn copse; and as they rode toward it they saw a man come
forth therefrom, and presently saw that he was hoary, a man with a long
white beard. Then Ralph gave a glad cry, and set spurs to his horse
and galloped over the plain; for he deemed that it could be none other
than the Sage of Swevenham; and Ursula came pricking after him laughing
for joy. The old man abode their coming, and Ralph leapt off his horse
at once, and kissed and embraced him; but the Sage said: "There is no
need to ask thee of tidings; for thine eyes and thine whole body tell
me that thou hast drunk of the Well at the World's End. And that shall
be better for thee belike than it has been for me; though for me also
the world has not gone ill after my fashion since I drank of that
water."

Then was Ursula come up, and she also lighted down and made much of
the Sage. But he said: "Hail, daughter! It is sweet to see thee so, and
to wot that thou art in the hands of a mighty man: for I know that
Ralph thy man is minded for his Father's House, and the deeds that
abide him there; and I think we may journey a little way together; for
as for me, I would go back to Swevenham to end my days there, whether
they be long or short."

But Ralph said: "As for that, thou mayst go further than Swevenham,
and as far as Upmeads, where there will be as many to love and cherish
thee as at Swevenham."

The old man laughed a little, and reddened withal, but answered nothing.

Then they untrussed their sumpter-beast, and took meat and drink from
his burden, and they ate and drank together, sitting on the green grass
there; and the twain made great joy of the Sage, and told him the whole
tale; and he told them that he had been abiding there since the
spring-tide, lest they might have turned back without accomplishing
their quest, and then may-happen he should have been at hand to comfort
them, or the one of them left, if so it had befallen. "But," quoth he,
"since ye have verily drunk of the Well at the World's End, ye have
come back no later than I looked for you."

That night they slept in the bower there, and on the morrow betimes,
the Sage drove together three or four milch goats that he pastured
there, and went their ways over the plain, and so in due time entered
into the lava-sea. But the first night that they lay there, though it
was moonless and somewhat cloudy, they saw no glare of the distant
earth-fires which they had looked for; and when on the morrow they
questioned the Sage thereof, he said: "The Earth-fires ceased about the
end of last year, as I have heard tell. But sooth it is that the
foreboding of the Giant's Candle was not for naught. For there hath
verily been a change of masters at Utterbol."

"Yea," said Ralph, "for better or worse?"

Said the Sage: "It could scarce have been for worse; but if rumour
runneth right it is much for the better. Hearken how I learned
thereof. One fair even of late March, a little before I set off
hither, as I was sitting before the door of my house, I saw the glint
of steel through the wood, and presently rode up a sort of knights and
men-at-arms, about a score; and at the head of them a man on a big
red-roan horse, with his surcoat blazoned with a white bull on a green
field: he was a man black-haired, but blue-eyed; not very big, but well
knit and strong, and looked both doughty and knightly; and he wore a
gold coronet about his basnet: so not knowing his blazonry, I wondered
who it was that durst be so bold as to ride in the lands of the Lord of
Utterbol. Now he rode up to me and craved a drink of milk, for he had
seen my goats; so I milked two goats for him, and brought whey for the
others, whereas I had no more goats in milk at that season. So the
bull-knight spake to me about the woodland, and wherefore I dwelt there
apart from others; somewhat rough in his speech he was, yet rather
jolly than fierce; and he thanked me for the bever kindly enough, and
said: "I deem that it will not avail to give thee money; but I shall
give thee what may be of avail to thee. Ho, Gervaise! give me one of
those scrolls!" So a squire hands him a parchment and he gave it me,
and it was a safe-conduct to the bearer from the Lord of Utterbol; but
whereas I saw that the seal bore not the Bear on the Castle-wall, but
the Bull, and that the superscription was unknown to me, I held the
said scroll in my hand and wondered; and the knight said to me: "Yea,
look long at it; but so it is, though thou trow it not, that I am
verily Lord of Utterbol, and that by conquest; so that belike I am
mightier than he was, for that mighty runagate have I slain. And many
there be who deem that no mishap, heathen though I be. Come thou to
Utterbol and see for thyself if the days be not changed there; and thou
shalt have a belly-full of meat and drink, and honour after thy
deserving." So they rested a while, and then went their ways. To
Utterbol I went not, but ere I departed to come hither two or three
carles strayed my way, as whiles they will, who told me that this which
the knight had said was naught but the sooth, and that great was the
change of days at Utterbol, whereas all men there, both bond and free,
were as merry as they deserved to be, or belike merrier."

Ralph pondered this tale, and was not so sure but that this new lord
was not Bull Shockhead, his wartaken thrall; natheless he held his
peace; but Ursula said: "I marvel not much at the tale, for sure I am,
that had Gandolf of the Bear been slain when I was at Utterbol, neither
man nor woman had stirred a finger to avenge him. But all feared him,
I scarce know why; and, moreover, there was none to be master if he
were gone."

Thereafter she told more tales of the miseries of Utterbol than Ralph
had yet heard, as though this tale of the end of that evil rule had set
her free to utter them; and they fell to talking of others matters.



CHAPTER 3

They Winter With the Sage; and Thereafter Come Again to Vale Turris


Thus with no peril and little pain they came to the Sage's hermitage;
and whereas the autumn was now wearing, and it was not to be looked for
that they should cross even the mountains west of Goldburg, let alone
those to the west of Cheaping Knowe, when winter had once set in, Ralph
and Ursula took the Sage's bidding to abide the winter through with
him, and set forth on their journey again when spring should be fairly
come and the mountain ways be clear of snow.

So they dwelt there happily enough; for they helped the Sage in his
husbandry, and he enforced him to make them cheer, and read in the
ancient book to them, and learned them as much as it behoved them to
hearken; and told them tales of past time.

Thereafter when May was at hand they set out on their road, and whereas
the Sage knew the wood well, he made a long story short by bringing
them to Vale Turris in four days' time. But when they rode down into
the dale, they saw the plain meads below the Tower all bright with
tents and booths, and much folk moving about amidst them; here and
there amidst the roofs of cloth withal was showing the half finished
frame of a timber house a-building. But now as they looked and wondered
what might be toward, a half score of weaponed men rode up to them and
bade them, but courteously, to come with them to see their Lord. The
Sage drew forth his let-pass thereat; but the leader of the riders
said, as he shook his head: "That is good for thee, father; but these
two knights must needs give an account of themselves: for my lord is
minded to put down all lifting throughout his lands; therefore hath he
made the meshes of his net small. But if these be thy friends it will
be well. Therefore thou art free to come with them and bear witness to
their good life."

Here it must be said that since they were on the road again Ursula had
donned her wargear once more, and as she rode was to all men's eyes
naught but a young and slender knight.

So without more ado they followed those men-at-arms, and saw how the
banner of the Bull was now hung out from the Tower; and the sergeants
brought them into the midst of the vale, where, about those tents and
those half-finished frame-houses (whereof they saw six) was a market
toward and much concourse of folk. But the sergeants led through them
and the lanes of the booths down to the side of the river, where on a
green knoll, with some dozen of men-at-arms and captains about him, sat
the new Lord of Utterbol.

Now as the others drew away from him to right and left, the Lord sat
before Ralph with naught to hide him, and when their eyes met Ralph
gave a cry as one astonished; and the Lord of Utterbol rose up to his
feet and shouted, and then fell a laughing joyously, and then cried
out: "Welcome, King's Son, and look on me! for though the feathers be
fine 'tis the same bird. I am Lord of Utterbol and therewithal Bull
Shockhead, whose might was less than thine on the bent of the mountain
valley."

Therewith he caught hold of Ralph's hand, and sat himself down and drew
Ralph down, and made him sit beside him.

"Thou seest I am become great?" said he. "Yea," said Ralph, "I give
thee joy thereof!" Said the new Lord: "Perchance thou wilt be deeming
that since I was once thy war-taken thrall I should give myself up to
thee: but I tell thee I will not: for I have much to do here. Moreover
I did not run away from thee, but thou rannest from me, lad."

Thereat in his turn Ralph fell a laughing, and when he might speak he
said: "What needeth the lord of all these spears to beg off his service
to the poor wandering knight?"

Then Bull put his arms about him, and said: "I am fain at the sight of
thee, time was thou wert a kind lad and a good master; yet naught so
merry as thou shouldest have been; but now I see that gladness plays
all about thy face, and sparkles in thine eyes; and that is good. But
these thy fellows? I have seen the old carle before: he was dwelling
in the wildwood because he was overwise to live with other folk. But
this young man, who may he be? Or else--yea, verily, it is a young
woman. Yea, and now I deem that it is the thrall of my brother Bull
Nosy. Therefore by heritage she is now mine."

Ralph heard the words but saw not the smiling face, so wroth he was;
therefore the bare sword was in his fist in a twinkling. But ere he
could smite Bull caught hold of his wrist, and said: "Master, master,
thou art but a sorry lawyer, or thou wouldst have said: 'Thou art my
thrall, and how shall a thrall have heritage?' Dost thou not see that
I cannot own her till I be free, and that thou wilt not give me my
freedom save for hers? There, now is all the matter of the service
duly settled, and I am free and a Lord. And this damsel is free also,
and--yea, is she not thy well-beloved, King's Son?"

Ralph was somewhat abashed, and said: "I crave thy pardon, Lord, for
misdoubting thee: but think how feeble are we two lovers amongst the
hosts of the aliens."

"It is well, it is well," said Bull, "and in very sooth I deem thee my
friend; and this damsel was my brother's friend. Sit down, dear
maiden, I bid thee; and thou also, O man overwise; and let us drink a
cup, and then we will talk about what we may do for each other."

So they sat down all on the grass, and the Lord of Utterbol called for
wine, and they drank together in the merry season of May; and the new
Lord said: "Here be we friends come together, and it were pity of our
lives if we must needs sunder speedily: howbeit, it is thou must rule
herein, King's Son; for in my eyes thou art still greater than I, O my
master. For I can see in thine eyes and thy gait, and in thine also,
maiden, that ye have drunk of the Well at the World's End. Therefore I
pray you gently and heartily that ye come home with me to Utterbol."

Ralph shook his head, and answered: "Lord of Utterbol, I bid thee all
thanks for thy friendliness, but it may not be."

"But take note," said Bull, "that all is changed there, and it hath
become a merry dwelling of men. We have cast down the Red Pillar, and
the White and the Black also; and it is no longer a place of torment
and fear, and cozening and murder; but the very thralls are happy and
free-spoken. Now come ye, if it were but for a moon's wearing: I shall
be there in eight days' time. Yea, Lord Ralph, thou would'st see old
acquaintance there withal: for when I slew the tyrant, who forsooth
owed me no less than his life for the murder of my brother, I made
atonement to his widow, and wedded her: a fair woman as thou wottest,
lord, and of good kindred, and of no ill conditions, as is well seen
now that she lives happy days. Though I have heard say that while she
was under the tyrant she was somewhat rough with her women when
she was sad. Eh, fair sir! but is it not so that she cast sheep's eyes on
thee, time was, in this same dale?"

Ralph reddened and answered naught; and Bull spake again, laughing:
"Yea, so it is: she told me that much herself, and afterwards I heard
more from her damsel Agatha, who told me the merry tale of that device
they made to catch thee, and how thou brakest through the net.
Forsooth, though this she told me not, I deem that she would have had
the same gift of thee as her mistress would. Well, lad, lucky are they
with whom all women are in love. So now I prithee trust so much in thy
luck as to come with me to Utterbol."

Quoth Ralph: "Once again, Lord of Utterbol, we thank thee; but whereas
thou hast said that thou hast much to do in this land; even so I have a
land where deeds await me. For I stole myself away from my father and
mother, and who knows what help they need of me against foemen, and
evil days; and now I might give help to them were I once at home, and
to the people of the land also, who are a stout-hearted and valiant and
kindly folk."

The new Lord's face clouded somewhat, as he said: "If thine heart
draweth thee to thy kindred, there is no more to say. As for me, what
I did was for kindred's sake, and then what followed after was the work
of need. Well, let it be! But since we must needs part hastily, this
at least I bid you, that ye abide with me for to-night, and the banquet
in the great pavilion. Howsoever ye may be busied, gainsay me not
this; and to-morrow I shall further you on your way, and give you a
score of spears to follow thee to Goldburg. Then as for Goldburg and
Cheaping Knowe, see ye to it yourselves: but beyond Cheaping Knowe
and the plain country, thy name is known, and the likeness of thee told
in words; and no man in those mountains shall hurt or hinder thee, but
all thou meetest shall aid and further thee. Moreover, at the feast
to-night thou shalt see thy friend Otter, and he and I betwixt us shall
tell thee how I came to Utterbol, and of the change of days, and how it
betid. For he is now my right-hand man, as he was of the dead man.
Forsooth, after the slaying I would have had him take the lordship of
Utterbol, but he would not, so I must take it perforce or be slain, and
let a new master reign there little better than the old. Well then,
how sayest thou? Or wilt thou run from me without leave-taking, as
thou didst ere-while at Goldburg?"

Ralph laughed at his word, and said that he would not be so churlish
this time, but would take his bidding with a good heart; and thereafter
they fell to talking of many things. But Ralph took note of Bull, that
now his hair and beard were trim and his raiment goodly, for all his
rough speech and his laughter and heart-whole gibes and mocking, his
aspect and bearing was noble and knightly.



CHAPTER 4

A Feast in the Red Pavilion


So in a while they went with him to the Tower, and there was woman's
raiment of the best gotten for Ursula, and afterwards at nightfall they
went to the feast in the Red Pavillion of Utterbol, which awhile ago
the now-slain Lord of Utterbol had let make; and it was exceeding rich
with broidery of pearl and gems: since forsooth gems and fair women
were what the late lord had lusted for the most, and have them he would
at the price of howsoever many tears and groans. But that pavilion was
yet in all wise as it was wont to be, saving that the Bull had supplanted
the Bear upon the Castle-wall.

Now the wayfarers were treated with all honour and were set upon the
high-seat, Ralph upon the right-hand of the Lord, and Ursula upon his
left, and the Sage of Swevenham out from her. But on Ralph's right
hand was at first a void place, whereto after a while came Otter, the
old Captain of the Guard. He came in hastily, and as though he had but
just taken his armour off: for his raiment was but such as the men-
at-arm of that country were wont to wear under their war-gear, and
was somewhat stained and worn; whereas the other knights and lords
were arrayed grandly in silks and fine cloth embroidered and begemmed.

Otter was fain when he saw Ralph, and kissed and embraced him, and
said: "Forsooth, I saw by thy face, lad, that the world would be soft
before thee; and now that I behold thee I know already that thou hast
won thy quest; and the Gods only know to what honour thou shalt attain."

Ralph laughed for joy of him, and yet said soberly: "As to honour,
meseems I covet little world's goods, save that it may be well with my
folk at home." Nevertheless as the words were out of his mouth his
thought went back to the tall man whom he had first met at the
churchyard gate of Netherton, and it seemed to him that he wished his
thriving, yea, and in a lesser way, he wished the same to Roger of the
Rope-walk, whereas he deemed that both of these, each in his own way,
had been true to the lady whom he had lost.

Then Otter fell a-talking to him of the change of days at Utterbol, and
how that it was the Lord's intent that a cheaping town should grow up
in the Dale of the Tower, and that the wilderness beyond it should be
tilled and builded. "And," said he, "if this be done, and the new lord
live to see it, as he may, being but young of years, he may become
exceedingly mighty, and if he hold on in the way whereas he now is, he
shall be well-beloved also."

So they spake of many things, and there was minstrelsy and diverse
joyance, till at last the Lord of Utterbol stood up and said: "Now
bring in the Bull, that we may speak some words over him; for this is a
great feast." Ralph wondered what bull this might be whereof he spake;
but the harps and fiddlers, and all instruments of music struck up a
gay and gallant tune, and presently there came into the hall four men
richly attired, who held up on spears a canopy of bawdekin, under which
went a man-at-arms helmed, and clad in bright armour, who held in his
hands a great golden cup fashioned like to a bull, and he bore it forth
unto the dais, and gave it into the hands of the Lord. Then
straightway all the noise ceased, and the glee and clatter of the hall,
and there was dead silence. Then the Lord held the cup aloft and said
in a loud voice:

"Hail, all ye folk! I swear by the Bull, and they that made him, that
in three years' time or less I will have purged all the lands of
Utterbol of all strong-thieves and cruel tyrants, be they big or
little, till all be peace betwixt the mountains and the mark of
Goldburg; and the wilderness shall blossom like the rose. Or else
shall I die in the pain."

Therewith he drank of the cup, and all men shouted. Then he sat him
down and bade hand the cup to Otter; and Otter took the cup and looked
into the bowl and saw the wave of wine, and laughed and cried out: "As
for me, what shall I swear but that I will follow the Bull through
thick and thin, through peace and unpeace, through grief and joy. This
is my oath-swearing."

And he drank mightily and sat down.

Then turned the Lord to Ralph and said: "And thou who art my master,
wilt thou not tell thy friends and the Gods what thou wilt do?"

"No great matter, belike," said Ralph; "but if ye will it, I will speak
out my mind thereon."

"We will it," said the Lord.

Then Ralph arose and took the cup and lifted it and spake: "This I
swear, that I will go home to my kindred, yet on the road will I not
gainsay help to any that craveth it. So may all Hallows help me!"

Therewith he drank: and Bull said: "This is well said, O happy man!
But now that men have drunk well, do ye three and Otter come with me
into the Tower, whereas the chambers are dight for you, that I may make
the most of this good day wherein I have met thee again."

So they went with him, and when they had sat down in the goodliest
chamber of the Tower, and they had been served with wine and spices,
the new Lord said to Ralph: "And now, my master, wilt thou not ask
somewhat concerning me?" "Yea," said Ralph, "I will ask thee to tell
the tale of how thou camest into thy Lordship." Said the Lord, "This
shall ye hear of me with Otter to help me out. Hearken!"



CHAPTER 5

Bull Telleth of His Winning of the Lordship of Utterbol


"When thou rannest away from me, and left me alone at Goldburg, I was
grieved; then Clement Chapman offered to take me back with him to his
own country, which, he did me to wit, lieth hard by thine: but I would
not go with him, since I had an inkling that I should find the slayer
of my brother and be avenged on him. So the Chapmen departed from
Goldburg after that Clement had dealt generously by me for thy sake;
and when they were gone I bethought me what to do, and thou knowest I
can some skill with the fiddle and song, so I betook myself to that
craft, both to earn somewhat and that I might gather tidings and be
little heeded, till within awhile folk got to know me well, and would
often send for me to their merry-makings, where they gave me fiddler's
wages, to wit, meat, drink, and money. So what with one thing what
with another I was rich enough to leave Goldburg and fall to my journey
unto Utterbol; since I misdoubted me from the first that the caytiff
who had slain my brother was the Lord thereof.

"But one day when I went into the market-place I found a great stir and
clutter there; some folk, both men and women screeching and fleeing,
and some running to bows and other weapons. So I caught hold of one of
the fleers, and asked him what was toward; and he cried out, 'Loose me!
let me go! he is loose, he is loose!'

"'Who is loose, fool?' quoth I. 'The lion,' said he, and therewith in
the extremity of his terror tore himself away from me and fled. By
this time the others also had got some distance away from me, and I was
left pretty much alone. So I went forth on a little, looking about me,
and sure enough under one of the pillars of the cloister beneath the
market-house (the great green pillar, if thou mindest it), lay crouched
a huge yellow lion, on the carcase of a goat, which he had knocked
down, but would not fall to eating of amidst all that cry and hubbub.

"Now belike one thing of me thou wottest not, to wit, that I have a
gift that wild things love and will do my bidding. The house-mice will
run over me as I lie awake looking on them; the small birds will perch
on my shoulders without fear; the squirrels and hares will gambol about
quite close to me as if I were but a tree; and, withal, the fiercest
hound or mastiff is tame before me. Therefore I feared not this lion,
and, moreover, I looked to it that if I might tame him thoroughly, he
would both help me to live as a jongleur, and would be a sure ward to
me.

"So I walked up towards him quietly, till he saw me and half rose up
growling; but I went on still, and said to him in a peaceable voice:
'How now, yellow mane! what aileth thee? down with thee, and eat thy
meat.' So he sat down to his quarry again, but growled still, and I
went up close to him, and said to him: 'Eat in peace and safety, am I
not here?' And therewith I held out my bare hand unclenched to him, and
he smelt to it, and straightway began to be peaceable, and fell to
tearing the goat, and devouring it, while I stood by speaking to him
friendly.

"But presently I saw weapons glitter on the other side of the square
place, and men with bended bows. The yellow king saw them also, and
rose up again and stood growling; then I strove to quiet him, and said,
'These shall not harm thee.'

"Therewith the men cried out to me to come away, for they would shoot:
But I called out; 'Shoot not yet! but tell me, does any man own this
beast?' 'Yea,' said one, 'I own him, and happy am I that he doth not
own me.' Said I, 'Wilt thou sell him?' 'Yea' said he, 'if thou livest
another hour to tell down the money.' Said I, 'I am a tamer of wild
beasts, and if thou wilt sell this one at such a price, I will rid thee
of him.' The man yeasaid this, but kept well aloof with his fellows,
who looked on, handling their weapons.

"Then I turned to my new-bought thrall and bade him come with me, and
he followed me like a dog to his cage, which was hard by; and I shut
him in there, and laid down the money to his owner; and folk came round
about, and wondered, and praised me. But I said: 'My masters, have ye
naught of gifts for the tamer of beasts, and the deliverer of men?'
Thereat they laughed: but they brought me money and other goods, till I
had gotten far more than I had given for the lion.

"Howbeit the next day the officers of the Porte came and bade me avoid
the town of Goldburg, but gave me more money withal. I was not loth
thereto, but departed, riding a little horse that I had, and leading my
lion by a chain, though when I was by he needed little chaining.

"So that without more ado I took the road to Utterbol, and wheresoever
I came, I had what was to be had that I would; neither did any man fall
on me, or on my lion. For though they might have shot him or slain him
with many spear-thrusts, yet besides that they feared him sorely, they
feared me still more; deeming me some mighty sending from their Gods.

"Thus came I to Utterness, and found it poor and wretched, (as
forsooth, it yet is, but shall not be so for long). But the House of
Utterbol is exceeding fair and stately (as thou mightest have learned
from others, my master,) and its gardens, and orchards, and acres, and
meadows as goodly as may be. Yea, a very paradise; yet the dwellers
therein as if it were hell, as I saw openly with mine own eyes.

"To be short, the fame of me and my beast had somehow gone before
me, and when I came to the House, I was dealt with fairly, and had good
entertainment: and this all the more, as the Lord was away for a while,
and the life of folk not so hard by a great way as it had been if he
had been there: but the Lady was there in the house, and on the morrow
of my coming by her command, I brought my lion before her window and
made him come and go, and fetch and carry at my bidding, and when I had
done my play she bade me up into her bower, and bade me sit and had me
served with wine, while she asked me many questions as to my country
and friends, and whence and whither I was; and I answered her with the
very sooth, so far as the sooth was handy; and there was with her but
one of her women, even thy friend Agatha, fair sir.

"Methought both that this Queen was a fair woman, and that she looked
kindly upon me, and at last she said, sighing, that she were well at
ease if her baron were even such a man as I, whereas the said Lord was
fierce and cruel, and yet a dastard withal. But the said Agatha turned
on her, and chided her, as one might with a child, and said: 'Hold thy
peace of thy loves and thy hates before a very stranger! Or must I
leave yet more of my blood on the pavement of the White Pillar, for the
pleasure of thy loose tongue? Come out now, mountain-carle!'

"And she took me by the hand and led me out, and when we had passed
the door and it was shut, she turned to me and said: 'Thou, if I hear any
word abroad of what my Lady has just spoken, I shall know that thou
hast told it, and though I be but a thrall, yea, and of late a mishandled
one, yet am I of might enough in Utterbol to compass thy destruction.'

"I laughed in her face and went my ways: and thereafter I saw many
folk and showed them my beast, and soon learned two things clearly.

"And first that the Lord and the Lady were now utterly at variance.
For a little before he had come home, and found a lack in his
household--to wit, how a certain fair woman whom he had but just got
hold of, and whom he lusted after sorely, was fled away. And he laid
the wyte thereof on his Lady, and threatened her with death: and when
he considered that he durst not slay her, or torment her (for he was
verily but a dastard), he made thy friend Agatha pay for her under
pretence of wringing a true tale out of her.

"Now when I heard this story I said to myself that I should hear that
other one of the slaying of my brother, and even so it befell. For I
came across a man who told me when and how the Lord came by the said
damsel (whom I knew at once could be none other than thou, Lady,) and
how he had slain my brother to get her, even as doubtless thou knowest,
Lord Ralph.

"But the second thing which I learned was that all folk at Utterbol,
men and women, dreaded the home-coming of this tyrant; and that there
was no man but would have deemed it a good deed to slay him. But,
dastard as he was, use and wont, and the fear that withholdeth rebels,
and the doubt that draweth back slaves, saved him; and they dreaded him
moreover as a devil rather than a man. Forsooth one of the men there,
who looked upon me friendly, who had had tidings of this evil beast
drawing near, spake to me a word of warning, and said: 'Friend
lion-master, take heed to thyself! For I fear for thee when the Lord
cometh home and findeth thee here; lest he let poison thy lion and slay
thee miserably afterward.'

"Well, in three days from that word home cometh the Lord with a rout of
his spearmen, and some dozen of captives, whom he had taken. And the
morrow of his coming, he, having heard of me, sent and bade me showing
the wonder of the Man and the Lion; therefore in the bright morning I
played with the lion under his window as I had done by the Queen. And
after I had played some while, and he looking out of the window, he
called to me and said: 'Canst thou lull thy lion to sleep, so that
thou mayst leave him for a little? For I would fain have thee up here.'

"I yeasaid that, and chid the beast, and then sang to him till he lay
down and slept like a hound weary with hunting. And then I went up
into the Lord's chamber; and as it happed, all the while of my playing
I had had my short-sword naked in my hand, and thus, I deem without
noting it, yet as weird would, I came before the tyrant, where he sat
with none anigh him save this Otter and another man-at-arms. But when I
saw him, all the blood within me that was come of one mother with my
brother's blood stirred within me, and I set my foot on the foot-pace
of this murderer's chair, and hove up my short-sword, and clave his
skull, in front and with mine own hand: not as he wrought, not as he
wrought with my brother.

"Then I turned about to Otter (who had his sword in his fist when it
was too late) till he should speak. Hah Otter, what didst thou say?"

Otter laughed: Quoth he, "I said: thus endeth the worst man in the
world. Well done, lion-tamer! thou art no ill guest, and hast paid on
the nail for meat, drink and lodging. But what shall we do now? Then
thou saidst; 'Well, I suppose thou wilt be for slaying me.' 'Nay,' said
I, 'We will not slay thee; at least not for this, nor now, nor without
terms.' Thou saidst: 'Perchance then thou wilt let me go free, since
this man was ill-beloved: yea, and he owed me a life.' 'Nay, nay,' said
I, 'not so fast, good beast-lord.' 'Why not?' saidst thou, 'I can see
of thee that thou art a valiant man, and whereas thou hast been captain
of the host, and the men-at-arms will lightly do thy bidding, why
shouldest thou not sit in the place of this man, and be Lord of
Utterbol?'

"'Nay nay,' said I, 'it will not do, hearken thou rather: For here I
give thee the choice of two things, either that thou be Lord of
Utterbol, or that we slay thee here and now. For we be two men
all-armed.'

"Thou didst seem to ponder it a while, and then saidst at last: 'Well,
I set not out on this journey with any such-like intent; yet will I not
wrestle with weird. Only I forewarn thee that I shall change the days
of Utterbol.'

"'It will not be for the worst then,' quoth I. 'So now go wake up thy
lion, and lead him away to his den: and we will presently send him
this carrion for a reward of his jonglery.' 'Gramercy, butcher,' saidst
thou, 'I am not for thy flesh-meat to-day. I was forewarned that the
poor beast should be poisoned at this man's home-coming, and so will
he be if he eat of this dastard; he will not outlive such a dinner.'
Thereat we all laughed heartily."

"Yea," said Bull, "So I went to lead away the lion when thou hadst
bidden me return in an hours' wearing, when all should be ready for my
Lordship. And thou wert not worse than thy word, for when I came into
that court again, there were all the men-at-arms assembled, and the
free carles, and the thralls; and the men-at-arms raised me on a
shield, set a crowned helm on my head, and thrust a great sword into my
hand, and hailed me by the name of the Bull of Utterbol, Lord of the
Waste and the Wildwood, and the Mountain-side: and then thou, Otter,
wert so simple as to kneel before me and name thyself my man, and take
the girding on of sword at my hand. Then even as I was I went in to my
Lady and told her the end of my tale, and in three minutes she lay in
my arms, and in three days in my bed as my wedded wife. As to Agatha,
when I had a little jeered her, I gave her rich gifts and good lands,
and freedom, to boot her for her many stripes. And lo there, King's
Son and Sweet Lady, the end of all my tale."

"Yea," quoth Otter, "saving this, that even already thou has raised up
Utterbol from Hell to Earth, and yet meseemeth thou hast good-will to
raise it higher."

Bull reddened at his word, and said: "Tush, man! praise the day when
the sun has set." Then he turned to Ralph, and said: "Yet couldst thou
at whiles put in a good word for me here and there amongst the folks
that thou shalt pass through on thy ways home, I were fain to know that
I had a well-speaking friend abroad." "We shall do no less," said
Ralph; and Ursula spake in like wise.

So they talked together merrily a while longer, till night began to
grow old, and then went to their chambers in all content and
good-liking.



CHAPTER 6

They Ride From Vale Turris. Redhead Tells of Agatha


On the morrow when they arose, Ralph heard the sound of horses and the
clashing of arms: he went to the window, and looked out, and saw how
the spears stood up thick together at the Tower's foot, and knew that
these were the men who were to be his fellows by the way. Their
captain he saw, a big man all-armed in steel, but himseemed that he
knew his face under his sallet, and presently saw that it was Redhead.
He was glad thereof, and clad himself hastily, and went out a-doors,
and went up to him and hailed him, and Redhead leapt off his horse, and
cast his arms about Ralph, and made much of him, and said: "It is good
for sore eyes to see thee, lord; and I am glad at heart that all went
well with thee that time. Although, forsooth, there was guile behind
it. Yet whereas I wotted nothing thereof, which I will pray thee to
believe, and whereas thou hast the gain of all, I deem thou mayst
pardon me."

Said Ralph: "Thou hast what pardon of me thou needest; so be content.
For the rest, little need is there to ask if thou thrivest, for I
behold thee glad and well honoured."

As they spoke came the Lord forth from the Tower, and said: "Come thou,
Lord Ralph, and eat with us ere thou takest to the road; I mean with
Otter and me. As for thee, Redhead, if aught of ill befall this King's
Son under thy way-leading, look to it that thou shalt lose my good word
with Agatha; yea, or gain my naysay herein; whereby thou shalt miss
both fee and fair dame."

Redhead looked sheepishly on Ralph at that word, yet winked at him
also, as if it pleased him to be jeered concerning his wooing; so that
Ralph saw how the land lay, and that the guileful handmaid was not ill
content with that big man. So he smiled kindly on him and nodded, and
went back with Bull into the Tower. There they sat down all to meat
together; and when they were done with their victual, Bull spake, and
said to Ralph: "Fair King's Son, is this then the last sight of thee?
wilt thou never come over the mountains again?" Said Ralph: "Who
knoweth? I am young yet, and have drunk of the Water of the Well."
Bull grew somewhat pensive and said: "Yea, thou meanest that thou
mayest come back and find me no longer here. Yet if thou findest but
my grave-mound, yet mayhappen thou shalt come on something said or
sung of me, which shall please thee. For I will tell thee, that thou hast
changed my conditions; how, I wot not."

"Thy word is good," said Ralph, "yet I meant not that; never should I
come to Utterbol if I looked not to find thee living there." Bull
smiled on him as though he loved him, and said: "This is well spoken; I
shall look to see thee before I die."

Then said Ursula: "Lord of Utterbol, this also thou mayst think on,
that it is no further from Utterbol to Upmeads than from Upmeads to
Utterbol." The Lord laughed and said: "Sooth is that; and were but my
Bull here, as I behold you I should be of mind to swear by him to come
and see you at Upmeads ere ten years have worn."

Then she put forth her hand and said: "Swear by this!" So he took it
and swore the oath; but the Sage of Swevenham said: "This oath thou
shalt keep to the gain and not the loss both of thee and of thy friends
of Upmeads."

Thus were they fain of each other, and Ralph saw how Bull's heart was
grown big, and he rejoiced thereat. But anon he arose and said: "Now,
Lord, we ask leave to depart for the way is long, and mayhappen my
kindred now lack a man's helping." Then Bull stood up and called for
his horse, and Otter also, and they all went forth and gat a-horseback
and rode away from Vale Turris, and Redhead rode behind them humbly,
till it was noon and they made stay for meat. Then after they had
broken bread together and drunk a cup Bull and Otter kissed the
wayfarers, and bade them farewell and so rode back to Vale Turris, and
Ralph and Ursula and the Sage tarried not but rode on their ways.

But anon Ralph called to Redhead, and bade him ride beside them that
they might talk together, and he came up with them, and Ursula greeted
him kindly, and they were merry one with another. And Ralph said to
Redhead: "Friend captain, thou art exceeding in humility not to ride
with the Lord or Captain Otter; save for chance-hap, I see not that
thou art worser than they."

Redhead grinned, and said: "Well, as to Otter, that is all true; but
as for Lord Bull it is another matter; I wot not but his kindred may be
as good or better than any in these east parts. In any case, he hath
his kin and long descent full often in his mouth, while I am but a
gangrel body. Howbeit it is all one, whereas whatso he or Otter bid
any man to do, he doeth it, but my bidding may be questioned at whiles.
And look you, lord, times are not ill, so wherefore should I risk a
change of days? Sooth to say, both these great lords have done well
by me."

Ralph laughed: "And better will they do, as thou deemest; give thee
Agatha, to wit?" "Yea, fair sir," quoth Redhead. "No great gift, that
seemeth to me, for thy valiancy," said Ralph; "she is guileful enough
and loose enough for a worse man than thee."

"Lord," said Redhead, "even of her thou shalt say what pleaseth thee;
but no other man shall say of her what pleaseth me not. For all that
is come and gone she is true and valiant, and none may say that she is
not fair and sweet enough for a better man than me; and my great good
luck it is that, as I hope, she looketh no further for a better."

Ursula said: "Is it so, perchance, that now she is free and hath
naught to fear, she hath no need for guile?" "Hail to thee for thy
word, lady," quoth Redhead; and then he was silent, glooming somewhat
on Ralph.

But Ralph said: "Nay, my friend, I meant no harm, but I was wondering
what had befallen to bring you two so close together."

"It was fear and pain, and the helping of each other that wrought it,"
said Redhead. Said Ursula: "Good Captain, how was it that she escaped
the uttermost of evil at the tyrant's hands? since from all that I have
heard, it must needs be that he laid the blame on her (working for her
mistress) of my flight from Utterbol."

"Even so it was, lady," said Redhead; "but, as thou wottest belike, she
had got it spread abroad that she was cunning in sorcery, and that her
spell would not end when her life ended; nay, that he to whom her ghost
should bear ill-will, and more especially such an one as might compass
her death, should have but an ill time of it while he lived, which
should not be long. This tale, which, sooth to say, I myself helped to
spread, the Lord of Utterbol trowed in wholly, so cunningly was it
told; so that, to make a long story short, he feared her, and feared
her more dead than living. So that when he came home, and found thee
gone, lady, he did indeed deem that thy flight was of Agatha's
contrivance. And this the more because his nephew (he whom thou didst
beguile; I partly guess how) told him a made-up tale how all was done
by the spells of Agatha. For this youth was of all men, not even
saving his uncle, most full of malice; and he hated Agatha, and would
have had her suffer the uttermost of torments and he to be standing by
the while; howbeit his malice overshot itself, since his tale made her
even more of a witch than the lord deemed before."

"Yea," said Ursula, "and what hath befallen that evil young man,
Captain?" Said Redhead: "It is not known to many, lady; but two days
before the slaying of his uncle, I met him in a wood a little way from
Utterbol, and, the mood being on me I tied him neck and heels and cast
him, with a stone round his neck, into a deep woodland pool hight the
Ram's Bane, which is in that same wood. Well, as to my tale of Agatha.
When the lord came home first, he sent for her, and his rage had so
mastered his fear for a while that his best word was scourge and rack
and faggot; but she was, outwardly, so calm and cold, smiling on him
balefully, that he presently came to himself, a found that fear was in
his belly, and that he might not do what he would with her; wherefore
he looked to it that however she were used (which was ill enough, God
wot!) she should keep the soul in her body. And at last the fear so
mounted into his head that he made peace with her, and even craved
forgiveness of her and gave her gifts. She answered him sweetly
indeed, yet so as he (and all others who were bystanding, of whom I was
one,) might well see that she deemed she owed him a day in harvest. As
for me, he heeded me naught, and I lay low all I might. And in any
wise we wore the time till the great day of deliverance."

Therewith dropped the talk about Agatha, when they had bidden him all
luck in his life. Forsooth, they were fain of his words, and of his
ways withal. For he was a valiant man, and brisk, and one who forgat
no benefit, and was trusty as steel; merry-hearted withal, and kind and
ready of speech despite his uplandish manners, which a life not a
little rude had thrust on him.