In the west, Sir Simon of Imbrecour, that old leopard6 wise in war, had raised the royal banner at his castle of Avray. The nobles of the western marches had joined him to a spear; many a lusty company had ridden in, to toss sword and shield in faith to the King. From his castle of Avray Sir Simon had marched south with the flower of the western knighthood at his heels. He had caught Malgo on the march from Conan, even as his columns were defiling7 from the mountains. Sir Simon had leapt upon the wild hillsmen and rebel levies8 like the fierce and shaggy veteran that he was. A splendid audacity9 had given the day as by honour to the royal arms. Malgo's troops had been scattered10 to the winds, and he himself taken and beheaded on the field under the black banner of the house of Imbrecour.
In the east, Godamar the free-lance lay with his troops in Thorney Isle11, closed in and leaguered by the warlike Abbot of Rocroy. The churchman had seized the dyke-ways of the fens12, and had hemmed13 the rebels behind the wild morasses14. As for the eastern folk, they were poor gizardless creatures; having faced about, they had declared for the King, and left Godamar to rot within the fens. The free-lance had enough ado to keep the abbot out. His marching to join Fulviac was an idle and strategetical dream.
Last of all, the barons15 of the north--fierce, rugged16 autocrats17, had gathered their half-barbarous retainers, and were marching on Lauretia to uphold the King. They were grim folk, flint and iron, nurtured18 amid the mountains and the wild woods of the north. They marched south like Winter, black and pitiless, prophetic of storm-winds, sleet19, and snow. Some forty thousand men had gathered round the banner of Sir Morolt of Gorm and Regis, and, like the Goths pouring into Italy, they rolled down upon the luxurious20 provinces of the south.
Fortune had decreed that about Lauretia, the city of the King, the vultures of war should wet their talons21. It was a rich region, gemmed22 thick with sapphire23 meres24 set in deep emerald woods. Lauretia, like a golden courtesan, lay with her white limbs cushioned amid gorgeous flowers. Her bosom25 was full of odours and of music; her lap littered with the fragrant26 herbs of love. No perils27, save those of moonlit passion, had ever threatened her. Thus it befell that when the storm-clouds gathered, she cowered28 trembling on her ivory couch, the purple wine of pleasure soaking her sinful feet.
In a broad valley, five leagues south of the city, Fulviac's rebels fought their first great fight with Richard of the Iron Hand. A warrior's battle, rank to rank and sword to sword, the fight had burnt to the embers before the cressets were red in the west. Fulviac had headed the last charge that had broken the royal line, and rolled the shattered host northwards under the cloak of night. Dawn had found Fulviac marching upon Lauretia, eager to let loose the lusts29 of war upon that rich city of sin. He was within three leagues of the place, when a jaded30 rider overtook him, to tell of Malgo's death and of the battle in the west. Yet another league towards the city his outriders came galloping31 back with the news that the northern barons had marched in and joined the King. Outnumbered, and threatened on the flank, Fulviac turned tail and held south again, trusting to meet Godamar marching from the fens.
He needed the shoulders of an Atlas32 those September days, for rumour33 burdened him with tidings that were ominous34 and heavy. Godamar lay impotent, hedged in the morasses; Malgo was dead, his mountaineers scattered. Sir Simon of Imbrecour was leading in the western lords to swell35 the following of the King. Vengeance36 gathered hotly on the rebel rear, as Fulviac retreated by forced marches towards the south.
It was at St. Gore37, a red-roofed town packed on a hill, amid tall, dreaming woods, that Colgran, with the ten thousand who had leaguered Gambrevault, drew to the main host again. Fulviac had quartered a portion of his troops in the town, and had camped the rest in the meadows without the crumbling38, lichen-grown walls. He had halted but for a night on the retreat from Lauretia, and had taken a brief breath in the moil and sweat of the march. His banner had been set up in the market-square before a rickety hostel39 of antique tone and temper. His guards lounged on the benches under the vines; his captains drank in the low-ceilinged rooms, swore and argued over the rough tables.
It was evening when Colgran's vanguard entered the town by the western gate. His men had tramped all day in the sun, and were parched40 and weary. None the less, they stiffened41 their loins, and footed it through the streets with a veteran swagger to show their mettle42. Fulviac came out and stood in the wooden gallery of the inn, watching them defile43 into the market-square. They tossed their pikes to him as they poured by, and called on him by name--
"Fulviac, Fulviac!"
He was glad enough of their coming, for he needed men, and the rough forest levies were in Colgran's ranks. Ten thousand pikes and brown bills to bristle44 up against the King's squadrons! There was strength in the glitter and the rolling dust of the columns. Yet before all, the man's tawny45 eyes watched for a red banner, and a woman in armour46 upon a white horse, Yeoland, wife of Flavian of Gambrevault.
In due season he saw her, a pale, spiritless woman, wan47 and haggard, thin of neck and dark of eye. The bloom seemed to have fallen from her as from the crushed petals48 of a rose. The red banner, borne by a man upon a black horse, danced listlessly upon its staff. She rode with slack bridle49, looking neither to the right hand nor to the left, but into the vague distance as into the night of the past.
Around her tramped Colgran's pikemen in jerkins of leather and caps of steel. The woman moved with them as though they were so many substanceless ghosts, stalking like shadows down the highway of death. Her face was bloodless, bleached50 by grievous apathy51 and chill pride. The bronzed faces round her were dim and unreal, a mob of masks, void of life and meaning. Sorrow had robed her in silent snow. The present was no more propitious52 to her than a winter forest howling under the moon.
Before the hostelry the column came to a halt with grounded pikes. The woman on the white horse stirred from her stupor53, looked up, and saw Fulviac. He was standing54 with slouched shoulders in the gallery above her, his hands gripping the wooden rail. Their eyes met in a sudden mesmeric stare that brought badges of red to the girl's white cheeks. There was the look upon his face that she had known of old, when perilous55 care weighed heavy upon his stubborn shoulders. His eyes bewildered her. They had a light in them that spoke56 neither of anger nor reproach, yet a look such as Arthur might have cast upon fallen Guinivere.
They took her from her horse, and led her mute and passive into the steel-thronged inn. Up a winding57 stair she was brought into a sombre room whose latticed casements58 looked towards the west. By an open window stood Fulviac, chin on chest, his huge hands clasped behind his back. Colgran, in dusky harness, was speaking to him in his rough, incisive59 jargon60. The woman knew that the words concerned her heart. At a gesture from Fulviac, the free-lance cast a fierce glance at her, and retreated.
The man did not move from the window, but stood staring in morose61 silence at the reddening west. Hunched62 shoulders and bowed head gave a certain powerful pathos63 to the figure statuesque and silent against the crimson64 curtain of the sky. The very air of the room seemed burdened and saturated65 with the gloomy melancholy66 of the man's mood. War, with its thousand horrors, furrowed67 his brow and bowed his great shoulders beneath its bloody68 yoke69. Her woman's instinct told her that he was lonely, for the soul that had ministered to him breathed for him no more.
He turned on her suddenly with a terse70 greeting that startled her thoughts like doves in a pine wood.
"Welcome to you, Lady of Gambrevault."
There was a bluff71 bitterness in his voice that forewarned her of his ample wisdom. Colgran had surrendered her, heart and tragedy in one, to Fulviac's mercy. A looming72 cloud of passion shadowed the man's face, making him seem gaunt and rough to her for the moment. She remembered him standing over Duessa's body in Sforza's palace at Gilderoy. Life had too little promise for her to engender73 fear of any man, even of Fulviac at his worst.
"I trust, Madame Yeoland, that you are merry?"
"It is a grim world this," he said; "when thrones burn, should we seek to quench77 them with our tears! Whose was the fault that God made you too much a woman? Red heart, heart of the rose, a traitorous78 comrade art thou, and an easy foe79."
She had no answer on her lips, and he turned and paced the room before her, darting80 swift glances into her face.
"So they killed him?" he said, more quietly anon; "poor child, forget him, it was the fate of war. Even to the grave he took the love I might never wear."
"Fulviac, have pity!"
"Pity?"
"A judgment?"
The man stopped suddenly in his stride, and looked at her as though her words had touched him like a bolt betwixt the jointings of his harness. There was still the morose frown upon his face, the half closure of the lids over the tawny eyes. He gripped his chin with one of his bony hands, and turned his great beak84 of a nose upwards85 with a gesture of self-scorn.
"Since the damned chicanery86 of chance so wills it," he said, "I will confess to you, that my confession87 may ease your conscience. The Madonna in that forest chapel88 was framed of flesh and blood."
"Fulviac!"
"Of flesh and blood, my innocent, tricked out to work my holy will. We needed a Saint, we cleansers of Christendom; ha, noble justiciaries that we are. Well, well, the Virgin served us, and tripped back to a warm nest at Gilderoy, reincarnated89 by high heaven."
Yeoland stood motionless in the shadows of the room, like one striving to reason amid the rush of many thoughts. She showed no wrath90 at her betrayal; her pale soul was too white for scarlet91 passion. The significance of life had vanished in a void of gloom. She stood like Hero striving to catch her lover's voice above the moan of the sea.
Fulviac unbuckled his sword and threw it with a crash upon the table. He thrust his arms above his head, stretched his strong sinews, took deep breaths into his knotted throat.
"The truth is out," he said to her; "come, madame, confess to me in turn."
Yeoland faced him with quivering lips, and a tense straining of her fingers.
"What have I to tell?" she asked.
"Nothing?"
"Save that I loved the Lord Flavian, and that he is dead."
"Sufficient unto the day is the evil thereof."
"Ah, you are avenged," she said, "you have crushed my heart; may the thought comfort you."
Her parched apathy seemed to elapse of a sudden, and she lost her calmness in an outburst of passion. She was athirst for solitude92, to be cloistered93 from the rough cavil94 of the world. Colour glowed upon her sunken cheeks as she stretched out her arms to the man with a piteous vehemence95.
"Fulviac----"
"Girl."
"Ah, for God's love, end now this mockery. Take this armour from me, for it burns my bosom. Let me go, that I may hide my wounds in peace."
"Peace!" he said, with a twinge of scorn.
"Fulviac, can you not pity me? I am broken and bruised96, men stare and jeer97. Oh, my God, only to be out of sight and alone!"
The man stood by the window looking out into the sky with lowering brows. The west burnt red above the house-tops; from the street came the noise of men marching.
"Why do you say that?"
"There is truth in the suspicion."
"Ah, what is life to me!"
"We Christians99 still have need of you."
The man's seeming scorn scourged100 her anguish101 to a shrill102 despair. The hot blood swept more swiftly through her worn, white body.
"Cursed be your ambition," she said to him; "must you torture me before the world?"
"Perhaps."
"As you will, madame; it will only make you look the greater fool."
He turned to her with the look of one enduring unuttered anguish in the spirit. His strong pride throttled105 passion, twisting his rough face into tragic106 ugliness.
"No, believe it not," he said; "I desire even for your heart's sake that you should make the best of an evil fortune. Learn to smile again; pretend to a zest107 in life. I have fathomed108 hell in my grim years, and my words are true. Time loves youth and recovers its sorrow. Know this and ponder it: 'tis better to play the hypocrite than to suffer the world to chuckle109 over one's tears."
该作者其它作品
《The Red Saint》
该作者其它作品
《The Red Saint》
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1
toiled
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| 长时间或辛苦地工作( toil的过去式和过去分词 )； 艰难缓慢地移动，跋涉 | |
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turmoil
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| n.骚乱，混乱，动乱 | |
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hurled
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| v.猛投，用力掷( hurl的过去式和过去分词 )；大声叫骂 | |
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foam
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| v./n.泡沫，起泡沫 | |
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torrents
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| n.倾注；奔流( torrent的名词复数 )；急流；爆发；连续不断 | |
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leopard
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| n.豹 | |
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defiling
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| v.玷污( defile的现在分词 )；污染；弄脏；纵列行进 | |
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levies
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| （部队）征兵( levy的名词复数 )； 募捐； 被征募的军队 | |
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audacity
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| n.大胆，卤莽，无礼 | |
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scattered
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| adj.分散的，稀疏的；散步的；疏疏落落的 | |
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isle
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| n.小岛，岛 | |
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fens
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| n.（尤指英格兰东部的）沼泽地带( fen的名词复数 ) | |
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hemmed
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| 缝…的褶边( hem的过去式和过去分词 )； 包围 | |
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morasses
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| n.缠作一团( morass的名词复数 )；困境；沼泽；陷阱 | |
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15
barons
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| 男爵( baron的名词复数 )； 巨头； 大王； 大亨 | |
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rugged
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| adj.高低不平的，粗糙的，粗壮的，强健的 | |
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autocrats
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| n.独裁统治者( autocrat的名词复数 )；独断专行的人 | |
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18
nurtured
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| 养育( nurture的过去式和过去分词 )； 培育； 滋长； 助长 | |
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19
sleet
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| n.雨雪；v.下雨雪，下冰雹 | |
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luxurious
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| adj.精美而昂贵的；豪华的 | |
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21
talons
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| n.（尤指猛禽的）爪( talon的名词复数 )；（如爪般的）手指；爪状物；锁簧尖状突出部 | |
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22
gemmed
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| 点缀（gem的过去式与过去分词形式） | |
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sapphire
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| n.青玉，蓝宝石；adj.天蓝色的 | |
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meres
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| abbr.matrix of environmental residuals for energy systems 能源系统环境残留矩阵 | |
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bosom
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| n.胸，胸部；胸怀；内心；adj.亲密的 | |
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26
fragrant
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| adj.芬香的，馥郁的，愉快的 | |
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27
perils
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| 极大危险( peril的名词复数 )； 危险的事（或环境） | |
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28
cowered
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| v.畏缩，抖缩( cower的过去式 ) | |
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29
lusts
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| 贪求（lust的第三人称单数形式） | |
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30
jaded
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| adj.精疲力竭的；厌倦的；（因过饱或过多而）腻烦的；迟钝的 | |
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31
galloping
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| adj. 飞驰的, 急性的 动词gallop的现在分词形式 | |
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atlas
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| n.地图册，图表集 | |
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rumour
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| n.谣言，谣传，传闻 | |
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ominous
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| adj.不祥的，不吉的，预兆的，预示的 | |
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35
swell
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| vi.膨胀，肿胀；增长，增强 | |
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vengeance
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| n.报复，报仇，复仇 | |
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gore
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| n.凝血，血污；v.（动物）用角撞伤，用牙刺破；缝以补裆；顶 | |
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38
crumbling
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| adj.摇摇欲坠的 | |
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39
hostel
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| n.（学生）宿舍，招待所 | |
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40
parched
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| adj.焦干的；极渴的；v.（使）焦干 | |
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41
stiffened
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| 加强的 | |
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42
mettle
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| n.勇气，精神 | |
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43
defile
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| v.弄污，弄脏；n.(山间)小道 | |
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44
bristle
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| v.（毛发）直立，气势汹汹，发怒；n.硬毛发 | |
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45
tawny
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| adj.茶色的，黄褐色的；n.黄褐色 | |
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46
armour
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| （=armor）n.盔甲；装甲部队 | |
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47
wan
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| (wide area network)广域网 | |
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48
petals
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| n.花瓣( petal的名词复数 ) | |
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49
bridle
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| n.笼头，束缚；vt.抑制，约束；动怒 | |
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50
bleached
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| 漂白的，晒白的，颜色变浅的 | |
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51
apathy
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| n.漠不关心，无动于衷；冷淡 | |
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52
propitious
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| adj.吉利的；顺利的 | |
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53
stupor
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| v.昏迷；不省人事 | |
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54
standing
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| n.持续，地位；adj.永久的，不动的，直立的，不流动的 | |
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55
perilous
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| adj.危险的，冒险的 | |
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56
spoke
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| n.（车轮的）辐条；轮辐；破坏某人的计划；阻挠某人的行动 v.讲，谈（speak的过去式）；说；演说；从某种观点来说 | |
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57
winding
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| n.绕，缠，绕组，线圈 | |
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58
casements
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| n.窗扉( casement的名词复数 ) | |
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59
incisive
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| adj.敏锐的，机敏的，锋利的，切入的 | |
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60
jargon
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| n.术语，行话 | |
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61
morose
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| adj.脾气坏的，不高兴的 | |
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62
hunched
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| （常指因寒冷、生病或愁苦）耸肩弓身的，伏首前倾的 | |
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63
pathos
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| n.哀婉，悲怆 | |
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64
crimson
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| n./adj.深(绯)红色(的)；vi.脸变绯红色 | |
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65
saturated
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| a.饱和的，充满的 | |
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melancholy
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| n.忧郁，愁思；adj.令人感伤（沮丧）的，忧郁的 | |
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67
furrowed
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| v.犁田，开沟( furrow的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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68
bloody
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| adj.非常的的；流血的；残忍的；adv.很；vt.血染 | |
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69
yoke
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| n.轭；支配；v.给...上轭，连接，使成配偶 | |
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70
terse
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| adj.(说话，文笔)精炼的，简明的 | |
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71
bluff
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| v.虚张声势，用假象骗人；n.虚张声势，欺骗 | |
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72
looming
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| n.上现蜃景（光通过低层大气发生异常折射形成的一种海市蜃楼）v.隐约出现，阴森地逼近( loom的现在分词 )；隐约出现，阴森地逼近 | |
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73
engender
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| v.产生，引起 | |
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taunt
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| n.辱骂，嘲弄；v.嘲弄 | |
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75
scoff
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| n.嘲笑，笑柄，愚弄；v.嘲笑，嘲弄，愚弄，狼吞虎咽 | |
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shrugged
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| vt.耸肩（shrug的过去式与过去分词形式） | |
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quench
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| vt.熄灭，扑灭；压制 | |
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traitorous
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| adj. 叛国的, 不忠的, 背信弃义的 | |
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foe
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| n.敌人，仇敌 | |
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80
darting
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| v.投掷，投射( dart的现在分词 )；向前冲，飞奔 | |
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81
shuddered
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| v.战栗( shudder的过去式和过去分词 )；发抖；（机器、车辆等）突然震动；颤动 | |
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82
judgment
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| n.审判；判断力，识别力，看法，意见 | |
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83
virgin
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| n.处女，未婚女子；adj.未经使用的；未经开发的 | |
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84
beak
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| n.鸟嘴，茶壶嘴，钩形鼻 | |
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85
upwards
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| adv.向上，在更高处...以上 | |
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86
chicanery
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| n.欺诈，欺骗 | |
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87
confession
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| n.自白，供认，承认 | |
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88
chapel
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| n.小教堂，殡仪馆 | |
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89
reincarnated
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| v.赋予新形体，使转世化身( reincarnate的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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90
wrath
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| n.愤怒，愤慨，暴怒 | |
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91
scarlet
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| n.深红色，绯红色，红衣；adj.绯红色的 | |
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solitude
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| n. 孤独; 独居,荒僻之地,幽静的地方 | |
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cloistered
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| adj.隐居的，躲开尘世纷争的v.隐退，使与世隔绝( cloister的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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cavil
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| v.挑毛病，吹毛求疵 | |
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95
vehemence
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| n.热切；激烈；愤怒 | |
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96
bruised
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| [医]青肿的，瘀紫的 | |
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jeer
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| vi.嘲弄，揶揄；vt.奚落；n.嘲笑，讥评 | |
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laconic
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| adj.简洁的；精练的 | |
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99
Christians
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| n.基督教徒( Christian的名词复数 ) | |
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100
scourged
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| 鞭打( scourge的过去式和过去分词 )； 惩罚，压迫 | |
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101
anguish
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| n.(尤指心灵上的)极度痛苦，烦恼 | |
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102
shrill
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| adj.尖声的；刺耳的；v尖叫 | |
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103
renounce
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| v.放弃；拒绝承认，宣布与…断绝关系 | |
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brutal
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| adj.残忍的，野蛮的，不讲理的 | |
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105
throttled
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| v.扼杀( throttle的过去式和过去分词 )；勒死；使窒息；压制 | |
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106
tragic
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| adj.悲剧的，悲剧性的，悲惨的 | |
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107
zest
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| n.乐趣；滋味，风味；兴趣 | |
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108
fathomed
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| 理解…的真意( fathom的过去式和过去分词 )； 彻底了解； 弄清真相 | |
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109
chuckle
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| vi.／n.轻声笑，咯咯笑 | |
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