Mellis lay very still, the fronds4 of the fern arching over her and throwing little flecks5 of shadow on her face. But though her bosom6 hardly betrayed her breathing, and her hands lay motionless among the bracken stems, all that was quick and vital in her lived in her eyes. The pupils were big and black and sensitive with fear, wild, tremulous eyes in a white and anguished7 face.
For a great fear gripped her—the nameless, instinctive8 fear of the wild creature caught in a trap, where struggling is of no avail. She waited, listened, counted the beats of her own heart, closed her eyes at times so that she might not see the imbecile face of the man who guarded her. But even a moment’s blindness quickened her fear, her quivering dread9 of what might happen.
She was snared10, helpless, and felt a great hand ready to close over her. The violence of young Nigel’s death had shocked her horribly. She could not get the vision of the poor fool out of her head; he was still screaming and writhing11 on Rich’s spear. The patches of blue sky between the trees seemed hard as steel; there was no softness in the sunlight on the bracken.
“Martin—Martin Valliant!”
She mouthed his name, but without sound. Her fingers quivered; she drew her breath with a deep, pleading misery12. Her hands and her soul reached out to him; he seemed the one strong and loyal thing left her in the beginnings of her despair. For her despair was very real and no piece of cowardice13; she had no illusions as to the temper of the men who served the Lord of Troy.
It was not death she feared so much as that other—nameless thing. She was herself as yet, clean, pure, virginal, and a man loved her. And even as her love reached out to him she clung with passionate14, hoarding15 tenderness to her own chastity. It was hers—and it was his. She wanted it because he was what he was—her man, her life’s mate. Such exaltations, such dear prejudices rise from the sacred deeps of the heart. Without them flesh is but flesh, and love mere16 gluttony.
Hours seemed to pass. The man who guarded her yawned, spat17 in the bracken, and slouched around like a tired cur. Sometimes Mellis found him staring at her with a hungry, gloating glint in his eyes, a look for which she loathed18 him as she would have loathed some slimy thing that had touched her hand.
Presently she heard voices in the beech wood, voices that seemed on the edge of a quarrel. They came nearer, like two birds sparring and scolding at each other; one was gay and insolent19 and swift, the other sullen20 and toneless.
“Have your way, then! Damnation, such drolleries are not part of my harness.”
“You are too gentle, good John Rich. What is life but a great hunting? And a plain, straight-forward gallop21 does not always please me. There is no wit, no cunning in it.”
“No devilry, you mean.”
“Have it that way. I like my wine well spiced, and a new spice tickles22 the palate. You dullards are content with rivers of beer.”
The man with the goat’s beard brisked up and stood stiffly on guard as Fulk de Lisle and John Rich came out from under the shade of the trees. Rich hung back, seeming to have no stomach for Fulk de Lisle’s spiced devilries.
“Stand away, Bannister.”
Mellis sat up. Fulk de Lisle was standing25 within two paces of her, his hands on his hips26, his red hat with its plume27 clapped on his head like a halo. His brown eyes stared at her boldly, and his red lips seemed on the point of smiling. She hated the man instantly, hated because she feared him.
“So this is the gentlewoman who turns quiet priests into turbulent traitors28! Mistress Dale, is not the thing heavy on your conscience?”
His bantering29 air made her shiver, for it was like the gliding30 of a snake through the fern. She did not answer him.
“By my chastity, I feel sorry for that young man. For three days to eat of the forbidden fruit, and then——”
He watched the hot blood stain her face.
“Assuredly it is a case for a rescue. Being a faithful son of the Church, I must take it upon myself to deliver the young man from this enchantment31, that his eyes may be opened before some good Christian32 hangs him. How does it feel, madam, to have made a man a murderer?”
To John Rich her eyes would have cried, “Have pity,” but Fulk de Lisle saw no more than a handsome wench whose pride struggled with her fear. Her pride won the victory. She remained mute before him, with a white stillness that refused to unbend.
Fulk de Lisle’s brown eyes were smiling.
“Madam is sullen; she does not repent33. Humility34 is good in a woman. It seems then that I must play the father to this poor fool of a monk35; there are many ways of opening a man’s eyes. Supposing, Mistress Dale, you were given the chance of saving this man’s life, by making a sacrifice such as many women make with resignation, even with joy——”
She caught his meaning, and the blood seemed to congeal36 in her heart. She felt cold, so cold that she shivered.
“Did God make you?” she said, hanging her head.
He laughed.
“He chose a fine sire and a handsome woman, madam, and I myself am considered a presentable man. Even you may grant that I have my points, if I chose to prove them.”
The power of speech died in her.
“Consider awhile. You shall be left in peace for an hour.”
He swept his red hat to her, and moved backwards37 through the bracken to where John Rich stood biting his beard.
“Well, have you done?”
Fulk de Lisle wasted no time. Martin Valliant saw men come out of the beech wood carrying roughly shaped posts and the branches of trees, and for a while their labor39 puzzled him. They were setting up a shelter or bower40 halfway41 between the mere and the woodlands, digging the posts into the ground and lashing42 the branches of the trees to them. This forest lodge43 was left open toward the island, but closed in on all the other sides with a dense44 wall of green leaves. Four short stakes were driven into the floor of the lodge, and a bed of leaves and bracken made between them.
The thing was barely finished when Fulk de Lisle appeared on the hillside, followed by a trooper who carried a piece of white cloth fastened to the staff of his spear. De Lisle sighted Martin on the tower, pointed45 with his riding switch to the white pennon, and came down at a leisurely46 pace toward the causeway.
Swartz had his eye to the loophole.
Fulk de Lisle made his way along the causeway as far as the raised footbridge, and stood there with an air of serene48 insolence49, as though he had nothing to fear from arrow shot or cross-bow bolt. He was wearing no body armor, and carried no weapon save the dagger50 at his side.
“Brother Martin, a word with you.”
Martin had climbed the ladder to the squint51 in the gate-house wall, and he could see Fulk de Lisle’s red figure framed like a picture. The man had courage, and knew how to use a smiling audacity52.
Martin answered him.
“I am Martin Valliant. What do you want with me?”
Fulk de Lisle raised his eyes to the loop.
“Is that you, Brother Martin? I have come to speak with you as man to man, and to reason with you over your madness. That a priest should shed blood is very shameful53, that he should shed it for the sake of a woman——”
“I am no longer a priest.”
“Listen awhile, good sir. My Lord of Troy is a devout54 gentleman. He would be willing to gloze over this midsummer madness, for the sake of St. Benedict, even to the point of sending you back to your cell—for discipline—and chastisement55.”
“I ask nothing from my Lord of Troy.”
“You seem in a furious hurry to be hanged, Brother Martin. Listen a little further: I will put the matter with what grace I can, even though the thing is not as delicate as it should be. There is a certain young gentlewoman who is a prisoner in our hands. Is not that so?”
Martin set his teeth, and made no answer.
“Your silence is sufficient. Come now, let me tell you that this young gentlewoman is very loth to see you hanged, so loth that she is ready to offer that most inestimable thing—her virtue——”
“Consider this great sacrifice, Brother Martin, for though it is very flattering to myself——”
Martin’s face was as gray as the stone. He turned, and went silently down the ladder, and began to unfasten the rope that kept the footbridge raised.
“Tricks will not serve you, Brother Martin. I give you till nightfall to decide. Come out to us, unarmed, and wearing nothing but your cassock, and your neck may be saved. The lady will pay.”
Martin let the bridge fall with a crash, and sprang to unbar the gate. His face was the face of a devil, mouth awry58, nostrils59 agape, his forehead a knot of wrinkles; but by the time he had the gate open Fulk de Lisle was across the causeway, and walking back toward the woods, and several of Rich’s men were moving down to meet him.
Martin Valliant stood there, breathing like a man who had run a mile uphill. He did not hear Swartz come quietly behind him and take hold of the rope to raise the footbridge.
“No, no, good comrade; that trick shall not work against you.”
Martin turned with a sharp, fierce cry.
“Swartz! Let go of that rope! I must die out yonder—or win through.”
But Swartz heaved the bridge up, fastened the rope, and stood to face his man.
“What! Will you be fooled by that rogue’s tongue? I heard all that I needed to hear. He came down to try his wit on you; he prides himself on such pretty quips and villainies.”
“Man, I am selling her, betraying her!”
Swartz struck him a blow on the chest.
“Wake—wake! Will that rouse you? To play with a man like Fulk de Lisle one wants a skin of iron and a brain of brass60. He knew that he could cut you to the quick, drive you mad. Such things must not be.”
He pushed Martin aside, and shut the gate.
“Gird up your soul, Martin Valliant, and set your teeth. Such a coil as this is not unwound by prayers and whimperings and such-like softness. Be hard, man, to win. You shall fight your fight—yet.”
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1
glade
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| n.林间空地，一片表面有草的沼泽低地 | |
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beech
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| n.山毛榉；adj.山毛榉的 | |
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3
brook
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| n.小河，溪；v.忍受，容让 | |
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4
fronds
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| n.蕨类或棕榈类植物的叶子( frond的名词复数 ) | |
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flecks
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| n.斑点，小点( fleck的名词复数 )；癍 | |
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6
bosom
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| n.胸，胸部；胸怀；内心；adj.亲密的 | |
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7
anguished
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| adj.极其痛苦的v.使极度痛苦(anguish的过去式) | |
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8
instinctive
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| adj.(出于)本能的；直觉的；(出于)天性的 | |
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9
dread
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| vt.担忧，忧虑；惧怕，不敢；n.担忧，畏惧 | |
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10
snared
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| v.用罗网捕捉，诱陷，陷害( snare的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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11
writhing
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| （因极度痛苦而）扭动或翻滚( writhe的现在分词 ) | |
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12
misery
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| n.痛苦，苦恼，苦难；悲惨的境遇，贫苦 | |
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13
cowardice
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| n.胆小，怯懦 | |
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14
passionate
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| adj.热情的，热烈的，激昂的，易动情的，易怒的，性情暴躁的 | |
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15
hoarding
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| n.贮藏；积蓄；临时围墙；囤积v.积蓄并储藏（某物）( hoard的现在分词 ) | |
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16
mere
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| adj.纯粹的；仅仅，只不过 | |
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17
spat
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| n.口角，掌击；v.发出呼噜呼噜声 | |
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18
loathed
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| v.憎恨，厌恶( loathe的过去式和过去分词 )；极不喜欢 | |
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19
insolent
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| adj.傲慢的，无理的 | |
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20
sullen
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| adj.愠怒的，闷闷不乐的，(天气等)阴沉的 | |
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21
gallop
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| v./n.(马或骑马等)飞奔；飞速发展 | |
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22
tickles
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| （使）发痒( tickle的第三人称单数 )； （使）愉快，逗乐 | |
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23
saluted
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| v.欢迎，致敬( salute的过去式和过去分词 )；赞扬，赞颂 | |
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24
beeches
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| n.山毛榉( beech的名词复数 )；山毛榉木材 | |
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25
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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26
hips
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| abbr.high impact polystyrene 高冲击强度聚苯乙烯，耐冲性聚苯乙烯n.臀部( hip的名词复数 )；[建筑学]屋脊；臀围（尺寸）；臀部…的 | |
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27
plume
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| n.羽毛；v.整理羽毛，骚首弄姿，用羽毛装饰 | |
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28
traitors
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| 卖国贼( traitor的名词复数 )； 叛徒； 背叛者； 背信弃义的人 | |
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29
bantering
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| adj.嘲弄的v.开玩笑，说笑，逗乐( banter的现在分词 )；（善意地）取笑，逗弄 | |
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30
gliding
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| v. 滑翔 adj. 滑动的 | |
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31
enchantment
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| n.迷惑，妖术，魅力 | |
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32
Christian
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| adj.基督教徒的；n.基督教徒 | |
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33
repent
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| v.悔悟，悔改，忏悔，后悔 | |
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34
humility
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| n.谦逊，谦恭 | |
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35
monk
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| n.和尚，僧侣，修道士 | |
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36
congeal
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| v.凝结，凝固 | |
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37
backwards
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| adv.往回地，向原处，倒，相反，前后倒置地 | |
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38
liking
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| n.爱好；嗜好；喜欢 | |
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39
labor
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| n.劳动，努力，工作，劳工；分娩；vi.劳动，努力，苦干；vt.详细分析；麻烦 | |
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40
bower
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| n.凉亭，树荫下凉快之处；闺房；v.荫蔽 | |
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41
halfway
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| adj.中途的，不彻底的，部分的；adv.半路地，在中途，在半途 | |
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42
lashing
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| n.鞭打；痛斥；大量；许多v.鞭打( lash的现在分词 )；煽动；紧系；怒斥 | |
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43
lodge
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| v.临时住宿，寄宿，寄存，容纳；n.传达室，小旅馆 | |
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44
dense
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| a.密集的，稠密的，浓密的；密度大的 | |
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45
pointed
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| adj.尖的，直截了当的 | |
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46
leisurely
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| adj.悠闲的；从容的，慢慢的 | |
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47
parley
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| n.谈判 | |
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48
serene
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| adj. 安详的，宁静的，平静的 | |
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49
insolence
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| n.傲慢；无礼；厚颜；傲慢的态度 | |
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50
dagger
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| n.匕首，短剑，剑号 | |
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51
squint
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| v. 使变斜视眼, 斜视, 眯眼看, 偏移, 窥视; n. 斜视, 斜孔小窗; adj. 斜视的, 斜的 | |
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52
audacity
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| n.大胆，卤莽，无礼 | |
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53
shameful
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| adj.可耻的，不道德的 | |
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54
devout
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| adj.虔诚的，虔敬的，衷心的 (n.devoutness) | |
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55
chastisement
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| n.惩罚 | |
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56
ironical
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| adj.讽刺的，冷嘲的 | |
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57
taunted
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| 嘲讽( taunt的过去式和过去分词 )； 嘲弄； 辱骂； 奚落 | |
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58
awry
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| adj.扭曲的，错的 | |
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59
nostrils
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| 鼻孔( nostril的名词复数 ) | |
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60
brass
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| n.黄铜；黄铜器，铜管乐器 | |
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