Chapter VII. Birdalone Telleth the Tale of Her Wandering Up the Valley of the Greywethers

Now Viridis did as she said, and brought them all in to the solar; there was none lacking save Baudoin, and they sat silently in a half ring, till the door opened and Birdalone came in to them, clad all simply in but a black coat; and she made obeisance to them, and stood there with her head bent down as if they were her judges, for so in sooth she deemed them. Then Hugh bade her sit down amongst them; but she said: Nay, I will not sit amongst you till ye have heard my story, and ye have told me that I am yet of your fellowship. None said aught; Atra looked straight before her, and her eyes met not Birdalone’s eyes; Arthur looked down on the ground; but Hugh and Viridis looked kindly on Birdalone, and to Viridis’ eyes the tears were come.

Then spake Birdalone and said: I am here as one that hath done amiss; but I will tell you, so that ye may not think worse of me than ye should, that when ye were gone, ye Champions, and the time wore long that ye came not again, it lay heavy on my heart, and hope waned and fear waxed, and my soul so grieved my body that I thought to fall sick thereof, and I knew that it would be ill for you to come home hither and find me sick; so that I longed sore to do somewhat which should make me whole again. Then weird would that I should hear all the tale of the Black Valley of the Greywethers, and of how therein is whiles granted fulfilment of desire; and methought how well it were if I might seek the adventure there and accomplish it. Thereof, doubtless, hath the chaplain, Sir Leonard, told you; but this furthermore would I say, that his doing herein was nought; all was done by my doing and by my bidding, and he might not choose but do it. Wherefore I do pray you all earnestly that ye keep no grudge against him, but pardon him all. Tell me, then, will ye do thus much?

Said Hugh: Let him be pardoned, if he can take pardon. But Arthur spake not, and Birdalone looked on him anxiously, and her face was moved, and it was with her throat as if she had swallowed something down. Then she spake again, and fell to tell them all that had betid to her when she went to the Black Valley, even as is hereafore writ, hiding nought that had been done and said; and freely she told it, without fear or shame, and with such clearness and sweetness of words that no one of them doubted her aught; and Arthur lifted up his head, and once and again his eyes met hers, and there was nought of hardness in them, though they turned away at once.

So at last fell Birdalone to telling what betid after they two, the stranger knight and she, left the valley of the force and fell to riding the wildwood with their heads turned toward the Castle of the Quest; and she said:

When we turned into the wood away from the said valley it lacked some four hours of noon; and we rode till noon was, and rested by a stream-side and ate, for we knew no cause wherefore we should hasten overmuch; but my fellow the strange knight was downcast and heavy, and some might have called him sullen. But I strove to make him of better cheer, and spake to him kindly, as to one who of an enemy had become a friend; but he answered me: Lady, it availeth not; I grieve that I am no better company than thou seest me, and I have striven to be merrier; but apart from all that I wot and that thou wottest which should make me of evil cheer, there is now a weight upon my heart which I cannot lift, such as never have I felt erst. So by thy leave we will to horse at once, that we may the speedier come to the Castle of the Quest and Sir Aymeris’ prison.

So I arose, but smiled on him and said: Hold up thine heart, friend! for thee shall be no prison at the Castle of the Quest, but the fair welcome of friends. He said nought, and mended not his cheer; and in this plight we gat to horse and rode on for some three hours more, till we came out of the thick forest into a long clearing, which went like a wide highway of greensward between the thicket, and it seemed as if the hand of man had cleared that said green road. Thereto we had come, following a little river which came out on to the clearing with us, and then, turning, ran well-nigh amidst it toward the north.

Now when we were come thither, and were betwixt the thicket and the water’s edge, we drew rein, and it seemed to me as fair a stead as might be in the woodland, and I looked thereon well pleased and with a happy heart. But the knight said: Lady, art thou not exceeding weary? Nay, said I, not in any wise. Said he: It is strange then, for so weary am I, that I must in any case get off my horse and lay me down on the grass here, or I shall drop from the saddle. And therewith he lighted down and stood by me a little, as to help me off my horse; but I said to him: Knight, I pray thee, even if ye be weary, to struggle forward a little, lest we be in peril here. In peril? quoth he; yea, that might be if the Red Knight knew of our whereabouts; but how should that be? He spoke this heavily, as one scarce awake; and then he said: I pray thee pardon me, lady, but for nought may I hold my head up; suffer me to sleep but a little, and then will I arise and lead thee straight to thy journey’s end. Therewithal he laid him down on the grass and was presently asleep, and I sat down by him all dismayed. At first, indeed, I doubted some treachery in him, for how might I trust him wholly after all that had come and gone? but when I saw that there was no feigning in his sleep, I set that doubt aside, and knew not what to make of it.

Thus passed an hour, and from time to time I shook him and strove to waken him, but it was all in vain; so I knew none other rede than to abide his awakening; for I knew not the way to take toward this castle; and, moreover, though he were a knight, and armed, yet might it be perilous for him if he were left there alone and unguarded; so I abode.

But now came new tidings. Methought I heard the sound of the tinkling of weapons and armour; the green highway so turned that a wood neb about an hundred yards to the north hid it from my sight, so that a man might have drawn somewhat near to us without being seen, came he on the hither side of the river. So I stood up hastily, and strung my bow, and took a shaft in my fingers, and no sooner was it done than there came a rider round about the aforesaid wood neb. He was all-armed and had a red surcoat, and rode a great shining bay horse. I kept my eye upon him while I stirred the sleeping knight with my foot, and cried to him to wake, but he scarce moved, and but uttered words without sense.

Now the new-comer drew rein for a moment when he saw us, and then moved on a little toward me, but I nocked a shaft and pointed it at him, and cried out to him to stay. Then I heard a great rattling laugh come from him, and he shouted: Nay, do thou stay, fair wood-wife, and I will risk thy shafts to come at thee. But why doth not the sluggard at thy feet rise up and stand before me, if he be thy loveling? Or is he dead? His voice was harsh and big, and I feared him sore; and it was as much because of fear as of hardihood, that I drew and loosed straightway; and doubtless it was because of fear that I saw my shaft fly an inch or so over his right shoulder. I heard his rattling laugh again, and saw him bend forward as he spurred; I knew that time lacked for drawing another shaft, so I caught up my skirts and ran all I might; but swift-foot as I be, it availed me nought, for I was cumbered with my gown, and moreover I was confused with not knowing whither to run, since I wotted that in the water the horse would do better than I.

So he was up with me in a twinkling, and reached out his hand and caught hold of me by the hair, and tugged me to him as he reined back his horse. Then he laughed again and said: Forsooth she will look better when she is no longer reddened and roughened with fleeing; and, by Red Peter! what limbs she hath. Then he let me loose and got off his horse, and shoved me on before him till we came to where the Black One lay still sleeping heavily. Then the Red Knight stood against me, and looked hard into my face; and I saw how huge a man he was, and how a lock of bright red hair came out from under his sallet. His eyes were green and fierce underneath shaggy red eyebrows; terrible he was to look on.

Now he spake fiercely and roughly, and as though he had something against me: Tell me, thou, who thou art and who this is? I answered nought, for fear had frozen my speech. He stamped his foot on the ground and cried: Hah! art thou gone dumb? Speak! thou wert best! I said, all quaking: My name is Birdalone; I belong to no one; I have no kindred: as for this man, I know not his name. He said: Comest thou from the Castle of the Quest? Art thou the whore of those lily-and-rose champions there? My heart was hot with anger in spite of my dread, but I spake: I came from the Castle of the Quest. He said: And this man (therewith he turned about and spurned him in the side), where didst thou happen upon him? Again I was silent, and he roared out at me: So thou wilt not answer! Beware, or I may see how to compel the speech of thee. Now answer me this: Was it in the Black Valley of the Greywethers that ye two came together? Again I knew not how to answer, lest I might do a wrong to him who had repented him of the wrong he had done me. But the Red Knight burst out a-laughing and said: It shall be remembered against thee, first, that thou didst let fly a shaft at me; second, that thou didst run from me; and thirdly, that thou hast been slack in answering my questions. But all this scathes me nought; first, because thy shaft missed me; second, because thy legs failed thee (though they were fair to look on, running); and third, because all thou canst tell me I know without thine answering. Now thee will I tell that this is Friday, and that ye two first met in the Black Valley on Tuesday; now I will ask this last question, and thou mayst answer it or not as thou wilt; for presently I shall wake this brisk and stirring knight, and I deem that he will tell me the truth of this if of nought else. Tell me, thou whore of the Questing Champions, where and how many times thou hast lain in this good knight’s arms since last Tuesday? Nowhere and never, quoth I. Thou liest, I doubt thee, said the Red Knight; howsoever, let us see what this doughty one will say. Hah! thou deemest he shall be hard to wake up, dost thou not! Well, I shall see to that. He who giveth sleep may take it away again.

Therewith he went up to the Black One and stooped adown over his head, and spake some words over him, but so softly that I heard not their import; and straightway the sleeper rose up so suddenly that he wellnigh smote against the Red Knight. He stood awhile staggering, and blinking at the other one, but somehow got his sword drawn forth, and the Red Knight hindered him nought therein, but spake anon when the other was come to himself somewhat: The sele of the day to thee, Sir Thomas, True Thomas! Fair is thy bed, and most fair thy bedfellow.

The Black Knight drew aback from him and was now come awake, wherefore he stood on his guard, but said nought. Then said the Red Knight: Sir Thomas, I have been asking this fair lady a question, but her memory faileth her and she may not answer it; perchance thou mayst do better. Tell me where and how many times hast thou bedded her betwixt last Tuesday and this? Nowhere and never, cried Sir Thomas, knitting his brows and handling his sword. Hah, said the Red Knight, an echo of her speech is this. Lo, the tale ye have made up betwixt you. But at least, having done mine errand, though meseemeth somewhat leisurely, and having gotten the woman for me, thou art now bringing her on to the Red Hold, whatever thou hast done with her on the road? I am not, said my fellow, I am leading her away from the Red Hold. Pity of thee, quoth the ot............