The dryad a novel
seconds the two men stood in their jerkins opposite to each other,
while Duke Baldwin and the nobles with him watched hard by in a little
group that gradually swelled its numbers as knight after knight emerged
unarmored from his tent and joined it. All who were with Duke Baldwin
were trained students of men, and to all it appeared patent that the
French adventurer was over-matched, not merely in patent height but in
no less patent breadth. Duke Baldwin, seeing the two men quiet and
silent, waiting to begin, felt some uneasiness of mind. He knew, of
course, that his man must win, and he would not have had it otherwise
for much, and yet he was sorry to think that a countryman should be
bested by the northerner. He again asked Simon if he persisted in his
wild challenge, and, on Simon reiterating that he did, the duke, with a
scowl of pity for his foolhardiness, gave the signal and the struggle
began.
The two men linked their arms each round the other's body, and stood
so for some seconds motionless, wedded pillars of mighty flesh. As
they waited thus there came into Simon's mind the thought of the last
time he had so clasped an adversary, and of his brief contact with the
soft flesh of the wood-maiden, and of his unparalleled overthrow. Then
the Norseman, obviously surprised by the strength of Simon's clasp,
made a strenuous effort to lift Simon from his feet, and found that
he might as well have attempted to lift a pillar of the Parthenon.
Frank astonishment reigned in the faces of all the spectators, who
had been confident that, though the Frenchman showed a sturdy fellow
enough, he would be little less than a plaything in the hands of the
northern Goliath. But their astonishment deepened into marvel when
Simon, striving in turn with no palpable exertion of force, plucked his
gigantic adversary from the ground, and, wrenching himself free from
his clasp, flung Harald Haraldson heavily to the earth. The Norseman
was up in an instant and ready to renew the tussle, but the duke, in a
very ill humor, forbade it. This was his second discomfiture that day,
and he chafed at it.
"No more," he said; "go your ways, Harald," and as the defeated
northerner withdrew, the duke turned again to Simon and offered to take
him into his service. Simon shook his head.
"I cannot serve two masters," he said, "and I will not leave the master
I serve now."
"Whom do you serve?" the duke asked, and Simon answered:
"I serve the Prince of Eleusis."
For the second time that day the name of the Prince of Eleusis had been
associated with the defeat of Duke Baldwin's wish, and it was very
plain that his rage longed to interpret itself in furious speech. But
the Prince of Eleusis was the conqueror of Rainouart, and under the
conditions not to be spoken ill of by Rainouart's father, so swallowing
his rage as well as he was able, Duke Baldwin thrust a number of gold
pieces into Simon's ready fingers and stamped sulkily away in the
direction of his palace, followed in discreet silence by his courtiers
and his knights.
XX
THE PROMISE OF RAINOUART
When Simon of Rouen saw Argathona speeding towards him across the
meadow, he stopped counting his gold pieces and turned to counting
his heart-beats. With every new occasion now of seeing the girl, were
it but a few minutes since a parting, his heart must needs drum the
same foolish music, to his vexation, yet to his greater vexation he
knew that he would not have it otherwise. He had forgotten her mad
fancy of immortality; he could never forget her glorious beauty and
her glorious strength, and at times the slow thought was forged in the
patient stithy of his wits that if in his youth he had met such a mate,
Simon of Rouen might now have shown another man than Simon the soldier
of fortune with his body soiled with the world's mire and his lips
stained with the world's wine. But he kept such thoughts to himself,
partly because he would have found it hard to throw them into words,
but chiefly because he dreaded that they might peril a friendship which
he cherished as his breath. Now as the girl neared him he rose to greet
her in a rapture, shovelling Duke Baldwin's gold pieces into his pouch
that he might have both hands free to applaud her.
"You have done well, lad," he cried, as she came a-nigh, then hurriedly
would have mended the matter, adding, "I should say, you have done
well, lass."
Argathona set a finger to her lips and smiled protest.
"You must think of me as a boy, friend," she entreated; "the girl of
the greenwood has forgotten her girlhood while she wears this golden
gear."
Simon looked contrition for his slip.
"How in Heaven's name did you do it?" he questioned. "You are amazing
strong for so slim a strip, but it takes more skill than strength to
over-tumble a practised cavalier that had just upset no fewer than
seven gallant gentlemen."
"I have little joy in my victory," Argathona answered, sadly, "but the
thing had to be, for my lover is bewitched, and it will be hard to win
him to his wits again, for as I think none can unspell him save she
that has cast the spell."
"That seems a grim task," said Simon, "but in the mean time you have
won his horse and armor."
"I build some hopes on that," the girl answered; "help me to disarm,"
and she passed into the tent, followed by Simon. Scarcely had she
begun, however, to peel off her steel when a voice was heard without
calling for the Prince of Eleusis. Straightway Simon went into the
open, where he found the page of Rainouart at the tent's door, and the
heir of Athens standing a little way apart in the meadow. The page
bade Simon tell his master that Sir Rainouart, Prince of Athens, was
without and desired speech with him. Simon returned to the tent and
delivered Rainouart's message, whereupon Argathona bade admit him,
and Simon brought Rainouart to her and left her with the young man.
Rainouart's eyes were downcast, and it was plain that, strive as he
might, he was dejected at his most strange, most unexpected defeat. He
broached his business immediately.
"Knight of Eleusis," he began, "you have won the toss, and by the rules
of the tourney you have the conqueror's right to my horse and armor.
As for the armor it shall be carried to your tent, but for the steed,
it was a gift to me from one whose gifts are dear to me"--he sighed a
little as he spoke, and Argathona was angry with him and pitied him.
"If you will let me ransom it at your hands, I think there is nothing
you can ask that the treasury of the Duke of Athens cannot amply
answer."
The little red flame of rage that threatened for a moment to sear the
heart of Argathona was instantly drowned in a great wave of sorrow for
the gallant lad so tragically beguiled. All her womanhood longed to
clasp him in her arms and kiss him tenderly, and tell him the truth and
her name and renew their loves. But she knew that she would speak in
vain. Her clear spirit saw that his eyes were purblind, that his soul
was swaddled with sorceries, and that only she who had set the spell
upon him could unspell his senses. Sad and frank she addressed him:
"Fair lord, I do not think I could ever have overthrown you if you
carried a true heart in your body. Somewhere, I think, some maiden
calls you false."
Rainouart's brows clouded.
"It is enough to have overthrown me without finding such shameful
reason for my fate. You are my conqueror, with whom it were dishonor
to quarrel while my defeat is unredeemed. But when I am quit with you
and a new sun reigns in heaven, I shall be very glad to give you the
lie. So if you will take ransom for my charger, I pray you to name your
price, and I will pay it were it all my estate and all my credit."
Argathona answered the loyal disloyal with an anguish in her voice
which he did not understand, being too busy with his own humiliation.
"Prince of Athens, will you promise me by your knightly chivalry to
grant me, in lieu of golden ransom for this horse you cherish so
dearly, whatever favor I may pray of you?"
Rainouart stared at his antagonist with a surprise that was almost a
suspicion, yet even his thickened vision could see nothing but candor
in the brave face opposed to him.
"I will grant you whatever favor you may pray of me," he promised,
"that is consistent with the laws of honor and the conduct of a
chivalrous knight."
"Is there any one in the world," Argathona asked, "so bold as to
entreat Rainouart of Athens to infringe in the least the laws of honor,
or to smirch with the slightest stain the conduct of a chivalrous
knight? Have I your promise?"
"I give you my promise," Rainouart declared, holding out his right
hand, that Argathona clasped in hers; "it is ask and have."
"It is a little thing," said Argathona, slowly, still holding the hand
of the prince, "yet it may come to carry a great meaning. All I demand
of you is that when you are alone to-night with your bride, if she
offer you a draught of wine to drink you do not drink it, but feign to
do so, and feign to fall asleep."
The young prince looked angrily into the frank eyes that made him
think, he knew not why, of forest fountains, and marvel why the thought
made him sad. Suddenly a ray of light shone on his darkness, for his
old memories of Esclaramonde, and of all that men and women once said
of her, rekindled in the gray ashes of his enchantment, and his spirit
was vexed with bewildering suspicions.
"That is a strange request," he said, "for it meddles with my lady, who
has nothing to do with our parley."
"It is a request that you are bound to answer," Argathona insisted,
"for, by my faith, it offends not against your chivalry. If the Lady
Esclaramonde offers you to drink to-night you will not drink. She may
not do so; then you are absolved. But if she do you will not drink,
but you will feign to drink and you will feign to fall asleep."
"And what then, if I do this?" Rainouart asked. He felt that he must
obey, he felt that Esclaramonde had someway ensnared him. He felt all
this dimly, incoherently, but there was a kind of hope in his heart.
"If within a little piece of time you are not glad of your feigning,"
Argathona answered, "why, you may put it by and all is well, and your
black horse neighs in your stable. Have I your promise?"
Her eyes were fixed intently upon his. She felt that she was struggling
with the spell that numbed his real self. Her spirit commanded him
to obey. He yielded to the strong influence. Bitter distrust of
Esclaramonde struggled against her sorceries and justified him in
entertaining the test.
"I have given you my promise," he said, gravely, "and will not gainsay
it."
Argathona repeated her demand: "If the duchess offers you to drink
to-night you will not drink, but will feign to do so and will feign to
fall asleep."
Rainouart saluted her and passed out of the tent, and she listened to
his footsteps dying away over the grass. Then she called to Simon, and
told him she was full of cheer, and bade him see that the prince's
horse was surrendered to his page. When Simon was gone on this errand,
Argathona fell on her knees in a corner and began to cry, just for all
the world as if she were human.
XXI
THE WINE OF ESCLARAMONDE
Duke Baldwin had devoted the fairest rooms in his palace to the Duchess
Esclaramonde of Thebes before her arrival, when he thought of her
only as a visitor whom he might--and the rumors of her encouraged the
thought--persuade with no great pains to an intimacy of friendship.
The best part of the left wing of the palace was consecrated to her
use, and its spacious rooms that looked upon the plain of Athens were