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Forest Lovers

<h2 id="id01028" style="margin-top: 4em">CHAPTER XVIII</h2> <h5 id="id01029">BOY'S LOVE</h5> Maulfry did not appear at High March either the next day, or the next. In fact, a week passed without any sign from her, which sufficed Isoult to avoid the tedious attentions of the maids, and to attract those of the Countess of Hauterive. This great lady had been prepared to be gracious to the page for the sake of the master. She had not expected the master to show his appreciation of her act by leaving her alone. The two of them were very much together; Prosper was beginning to court his wife. The Countess grew frankly jealous of Roy; and the more she felt herself slipping in her own esteem, the more irritated with the boy did she grow. She had long admitted to herself that Prosper pleased her as no man had ever done, since Fulk de Bréauté was stabbed on the heath. In pursuance of this she had waived the ten years of age between herself and the youth. It seemed the prerogative of her rank. If she thought him old enough, he was old enough, pardieu. If she went further, as she was prepared to do; if she said, "You are old enough, Prosper, for my throne. Come!" and he did not come, she had a sense that there was lèse majesté lurking where there should only be an aching heart. The fact was, that she began to hate Roy very heartily; it would not have been long before she took steps to be rid of him, had not fortune saved her the trouble, as must now be related. Isoult, it is to be owned, saw nothing of all this. Having once settled herself on the old footing with her lord and master, wherein, if there was nothing to gain, there was also nothing to lose, the humble soul set to work to forget her late rebellion, and to be as happy as the shadow of Maulfry and the uncompromising shifts of the enamoured Melot would allow. As for Prosper's courting, it shall be at once admitted that she discerned it as little as the Countess's malevolent eye. He hectored her rather more, expected more of her, and conversed with her less often and less cheerfully than had been his wont. It is probable that he was really courting his wounded susceptibilities. About a week after the adventure of the bed-chamber, as she was waiting in the hall with the crowd of lacqueys and retainers, some one caught her by the arm. She turned and saw Vincent. He was hot, excited, and dusty, but very much her servant, poor lad. "Dame Maulfry is here," he whispered her. "Where?" "You will see her soon. She is tricked in the figure of a dancing woman, an Egyptian. She will come telling fortunes and shameful tales. And she means mischief, but not to you." "Ah! How do you know that, Vincent?" "She talked very often to herself when we were in the forest. We have been to many places—Wanmeeting, Waisford. There is no doubt at all. `Kill the buck and you have the doe': she said it over and over again. We have seen the sick man. He is quite well now, and very strong. She is to kill your lord and take you alive. She seems to hate him. I can't tell you why. Which is your lord of all those on the dais?" "Hush. There he sits on the right hand of the Countess. He is talking to her now. Look, she is laughing." "Oh, he is tall. He looks light and fierce, like a leopard. How high he carries his head! As if we were of another world." "So we are," said Isoult. Vincent sighed and went on with his story. "I have run away from Maulfry. She left me to wait for her at the end of the avenue, with three horses, just as I was at Gracedieu—do you remember? But I could never do that again. Now I must hide somewhere." "Come with me. I will hide you." She took him to the buttery and gave him over to the cook-maids. She told Melot that this was a fellow of hers who must be tended at all costs. Melot made haste to obey, sighing like a gale of wind. Isoult had rather asked any other, but time pressed. She hurried back to the hall to take her proper place at table, and going thither, made sure that her dagger slid easily in and out. She was highly excited, but not with fear—elated rather. Supper passed safely over. The Countess withdrew to the gallery, and Prosper followed her as his duty bound him. He was still thoughtful and subdued, but with a passing flash now and again of his old authority, which served to make a blacker sky for the love-sick lady. The sounds of music came gratefully to Isoult; for once she was glad to be rid of him. She sped back to Vincent, enormously relieved that the field of battle was to be narrowed. Maulfry would have been awkward in the open; she knew she could hold her in the passages. There were two things to be prevented, observe. The knife must not discover Prosper, nor Maulfry Isoult. The latter was almost as important on Prosper's account as the former. Isoult knew that. She knew also that it must be risked of the two; but in the passages she could deal with it. Vincent was sitting by the fire between Melot and Jocosa, another of the maids. Melot bit her lip, and edged away from him as Isoult came in. "Girls," said the redoubtable Roy, with scant ceremony, "I have to speak to my mate." Melot bounced out of the room. Jocosa loitered about, hoping for a frolic. A chance look at Master Roy seemed to convince her that she too had better go. As soon as they were alone Isoult made haste to eat and drink. Between the mouthfuls she said— "She has not come yet." "No," said Vincent, "but she will come soon. There is time enough for what she has to do. She had to wait till it was dark. She never works in daylight." "We are safe now," Isoult said. "How is that—safe?" "She will never see my lord except through me. The doorward will bring her to me, or me to her. Then I shall be sent to my lord." "And will you go, Isoult?" "Never." "What will you do?" Isoult looked down at her belt, whither Vincent's eyes followed hers. "Ah," he said, "will you dare do that?" "There is nothing I would not dare for him." Thereupon Vincent pulls out his dagger as bravely as you please. "Isoult," says he, "this is man's work. You leave her to me." "Man's work, Vincent?" But she could not bear to finish the sentence, so changed it. "Man's work to stab a woman?" "Man's work, Isoult, to shield the lady one loves—honours I should say." "Yes, that is better." "No, it is worse. Oh! Isoult, may I not love you?" "Certainly not." "But how can I help it? I do love you. What can prevent me?" Isoult coloured. "Love itself can prevent you, Vincent." "Oh! you are right, you are wise, you are very holy. I have never thought of such things as that. And is that true love?" "Love should kill love, if need were." "Love shall," said Vincent in a whisper. Whereupon Isoult smiled on him. They fell to chatting again, discussing possibilities, or facts, which were safer ground. Isoult heard the stroke of ten. Presently after, the page-in-waiting sang out a challenge. A shuffling step stopped, a cracked voice asked for Messire Prosper le Gai. "Maulfry!" said Vincent with a shiver. "Hush!" "It is late to see Messire," said the page. "He will see me none the less, young gentleman." "Wait where you stand. I will fetch his squire." Isoult got up. Vincent was already on his feet. "Shall we go?" asked the boy. "Wait," said the girl. "We must get rid of Balthasar." Balthasar came in with his message to Roy. Isoult affected to know all about it. She sent Balthasar off to find a sealed package, which did not exist, in a turret room where it could not have been. Balthasar went. He was a dull boy. "Now," said Isoult, and led the way into the passage. It was pretty dark there and draughty. A flickering cresset threw a flare of light one minute, and was shrivelled to a blue spark the next. It sufficed them to see a tall beribboned shape, a thing of brown skin and loose black hair—a tall woman standing at a distance. Side by side Isoult and Vincent went down towards her. Half-way Isoult suddenly stopped and beckoned Maulfry forward with her hand. The fact was that she had seen how near the woman stood to the guard-room door; she wished to do her business undisturbed. Vincent, however, who knew nothing of the guard-room, had a theory that Isoult was frightened. Maulfry came bowing forward. Isoult turned and walked slowly away from her, Vincent in company and on the watch; Maulfry followed, gaining. By the buttery door Isoult suddenly stopped and faced round. Maulfry was before her. "Maulfry," said the girl quietly, "what do you want with my lord?" Maulfry's eyes shifted like lightning from one to the other. She felt her rage rising, but swallowed it down. "You little fool," she said, "you little fool, his life is in danger." "I have warned him, Maulfry. It was in danger." "Warned him! I can do better than that. Why, your own is as shaky as his. You have brought it about by your own folly, and now you are like to let him be killed. Take me to him, child, for his sake and yours." "You will never see him, Maulfry." Maulfry hesitated for a second or two. She was very angry at this trouble. "You are a great fool for such a little body, Isoult," she said; "more than I had believed. Come now, let me pass." She made to go on: Isoult, to get ready, stepped back a step, but Vincent slipped in between them. He was shaking all over. "Stay where you are, dame," he said. Maulfry gave a jump. "Bastard!" She spat at him, and whipped a knife into his heart. Vincent sobbed, and fell with a thud. In a trice Isoult had struck with her dagger at Maulfry's shoulder. Steel struck steel: the blade broke short off at the haft. A guard came out with a torch, saw the trouble, and turned shouting to his mates. Half-a-dozen of them came tumbling into the passage with torches and pikes. There was a great smoke, some blinding patches of light, everywhere else a sooty darkness. By the time they were up to the buttery there was nothing to be seen but a boy sitting on the flags with a dead boy on his knees. Maulfry had gone. As for Vincent, Love had killed love sure as fate. When Prosper heard of it all he was very angry. "Is this how you serve me, child? To fight battles for me? I suppose I should return the compliment by darning your stockings. I had things to say to this woman, many things to learn. You have bungled my plans and vexed me." Isoult humbled herself to the dust, but he would not be appeased. "Who was this boy?" he asked her. "What on earth had he to do in my affair?" "Lord," she said meekly, "he died to save me from death, and once before he risked his life to let me escape from Tortsentier." Prosper felt the rebuke and got more angry. "A fool meets with a fool's death. Boys and girls have no business with steel. They should be in the nursery." "I was in prison, lord." He remembered then that she might have stayed in prison for all his help. He began to be ashamed of himself. "Child," he said more gently, "I did wrong to be angry; but you must never thwart my plans. The boy loved you?" "Few have loved me," said she, "but he loved me." "Ah! Did he tell you so?" "Yes, lord." "And what did you say to that, Isoult?" "I told him how love should be." "So, so. And how do you think that love should be?" "Thus, lord," said Isoult, looking to Vincent's heart. Prosper turned pale. There were deeps, then, of which he had never dreamed. "Isoult," he said, "did you love this boy who so loved you?" She shook her head rather pitifully. "Ah, no!" "But yet you told him how he should love you?" "Nay, lord, but I told him how I should love." "You must have studied much in this science, my child." "I am Isoult la Desirous, lord." Prosper turned away. There was much here that he did not understand, and that night before he went to sleep at her door he kissed her forehead—it would have been her hand if his dignity had dared—and then they prayed together as once in the forest. Afterwards he was glad enough to remember this. <div style="break-after:column;"></div>

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