The Story of the Glittering Plain<br />Which Has Been Also Called the Land of Living Men or the Acre by William Morris (debian ebook reader .TXT) 📕

(but no whit of Hallblithe), and kissing and caressing each other; so that it seemed but a little while to them ere they saw Hallblithe coming back by the oak-tree.  He went slowly, hanging his head like a man sore-burdened with grief: thus he came up to them, and stood there above them as they lay on the fragrant grass, and he saying no word and looking so sad and sorry, and withal so fell, that they feared his grief and his anger, and would fain have been away from him; so that they durst not ask him a question for a long while, and the sun sank below the hill while they abided thus.

Then all trembling the damsel spake to the Sea-eagle: “Speak to him, dear friend, else must I flee away, for I fear his silence.”

Quoth the Sea-eagle: “Shipmate and friend, what hath betided?  How art thou?  May we hearken, and mayhappen amend it?”

Then Hallblithe cast himself adown on the grass and said: “I am accursed and beguiled; and I wander round and round in a tangle that I may not escape from.  I am not far from deeming that this is a land of dreams made for my beguiling.  Or has the earth become so full of lies, that there is no room amidst them for a true man to stand upon his feet and go his ways?”

Said the Sea-eagle: “Thou shalt tell us of what hath betid, and so ease the sorrow of thy soul if thou wilt.  Or if thou wilt, thou shalt nurse thy sorrow in thine heart and tell no man.  Do what thou wilt; am I not become thy friend?”

Said Hallblithe: “I will tell you twain the tidings, and thereafter ask me no more concerning them.  Hearken.  I went whereas ye bade me, and hid myself in the bay-tree thicket; and there came maidens into the blossoming orchard and made a resting-place with silken cushions close to where I was lurking, and stood about as though they were looking for some one to come.  In a little time came two more maidens, and betwixt them one so much fairer than any there, that my heart sank within me: whereas I deemed because of her fairness that this would be the fore-doomed love whereof ye spake, and lo, she was in nought like to my troth-plight maiden, save that she was exceeding beauteous: nevertheless, heart-sick as I was, I determined to abide the token that ye told me of.  So she lay down amidst those cushions, and I beheld her that she was sad of countenance; and she was so near to me that I could see the tears welling into her eyes, and running down her cheeks; so that I should have grieved sorely for her had I not been grieving so sorely for myself.  For presently she sat up and said ‘O maiden, bring me hither the book wherein is the image of my beloved, that I may behold it in this season of sunset wherein I first beheld it; that I may fill my heart with the sight thereof before the sun is gone and the dark night come.’

“Then indeed my heart died within me when I wotted that this was the love whereof the King spake, that he would give to me, and she not mine own beloved, yet I could not choose but abide and look on a while, and she being one that any man might love beyond measure.  Now a maiden went away into the house and came back again with a book covered with gold set with gems; and the fair woman took it and opened it, and I was so near to her that I saw every leaf clearly as she turned the leaves.  And in that book were pictures of many things, as flaming mountains, and castles of war, and ships upon the sea, but chiefly of fair women, and queens, and warriors and kings; and it was done in gold and azure and cinnabar and minium.  So she turned the leaves, till she came to one whereon was pictured none other than myself, and over against me was the image of mine own beloved, the Hostage of the Rose, as if she were alive, so that the heart within me swelled with the sobbing which I must needs refrain, which grieved me like a sword-stroke.  Shame also took hold of me as the fair woman spoke to my painted image, and I lying well-nigh within touch of her hand; but she said: ‘O my beloved, why dost thou delay to come to me?  For I deemed that this eve at least thou wouldst come, so many and strong as are the meshes of love which we have cast about thy feet.  Oh come to-morrow at the least and latest, or what shall I do, and wherewith shall I quench the grief of my heart?  Or else why am I the daughter of the Undying King, the Lord of the Treasure of the Sea?  Why have they wrought new marvels for me, and compelled the Ravagers of the Coasts to serve me, and sent false dreams flitting on the wings of the night?  Yea, why is the earth fair and fruitful, and the heavens kind above it, if thou comest not to-night, nor to-morrow, nor the day after?  And I the daughter of the Undying, on whom the days shall grow and grow as the grains of sand which the wind heaps up above the sea-beach.  And life shall grow huger and more hideous round about the lonely one, like the ling-worm laid upon the gold, that waxeth thereby, till it lies all around about the house of the queen entrapped, the moveless unending ring of the years that change not.’

“So she spake till the weeping ended her words, and I was all abashed with shame and pale with anguish.  I stole quietly from my lair unheeded of any, save that one damsel said that a rabbit ran in the hedge, and another that a blackbird stirred in the thicket.  Behold me, then, that my quest beginneth again amidst the tangle of lies whereinto I have been entrapped.”

CHAPTER XIV: HALLBLITHE HAS SPEECH WITH THE KING AGAIN

He stood up when he had made an end, as a man ready for the road; but they lay there downcast and abashed, and had no words to answer him.  For the Sea-eagle was sorry that his faring-fellow was hapless, and was sorry that he was sorry; and as for the damsel, she had not known but that she was leading the goodly Spearman to the fulfilment of his heart’s desire.  Albeit after a while she spake again and said:

“Dear friends, day is gone and night is at hand; now to-night it were ill lodging at yonder house; and the next house on our backward road is over far for wayworn folk.  But hard by through the thicket is a fair little wood-lawn, by the lip of a pool in the stream wherein we may bathe us to-morrow morning; and it is grassy and flowery and sheltered from all winds that blow, and I have victual enough in my wallet.  Let us sup and rest there under the bare heaven, as oft is the wont of us in this land; and on the morrow early we will arise and get us back again to Wood-end, where yet the King abideth, and there shalt thou talk to him again, O Spearman.”

Said Hallblithe: “Take me whither ye will; but now nought availeth.  I am a captive in a land of lies, and here most like shall I live betrayed and die hapless.”

“Hold thy peace, dear friend, of such words as those last,” said she, “or I must needs flee from thee, for they hurt me sorely.  Come now to this pleasant place.”

She took him by the hand and looked kindly on him, and the Sea-eagle followed him, murmuring an old song of the harvest-field, and they went together by a path through a thicket of white-thorn till they came unto a grassy place.  There then they sat them down, and ate and drank what they would, sitting by the lip of the pool till a waning moon was bright over their heads.  And Hallblithe made no semblance of content; but the Sea-eagle and his damsel were grown merry again, and talked and sang together like autumn stares, with the kissing and caressing of lovers.

So at last those twain lay down amongst the flowers, and slept in each other’s arms; but Hallblithe betook him to the brake a little aloof, and lay down, but slept not till morning was at hand, when slumber and confused dreams overtook him.

He was awaked from his sleep by the damsel, who came pushing through the thicket all fresh and rosy from the river, and roused him, and said:

“Awake now, Spearman, that we may take our pleasure in the sun; for he is high in the heavens now, and all the land laughs beneath him.”

Her eyes glittered as she spoke, and her limbs moved under her raiment as though she would presently fall to dancing for very joy.  But Hallblithe arose wearily, and gave her back no smile in answer, but thrust through the thicket to the water, and washed the night from off him, and so came back to the twain as they sat dallying together over their breakfast.  He would not sit down by them, but ate a morsel of bread as he stood, and said: “Tell me how I can soonest find the King: I bid you not lead me thither, but let me go my ways alone.  For with me time presses, and with you meseemeth time is nought.  Neither am I a meet fellow for the happy.”

But the Sea-eagle sprang up, and swore with a great oath that he would nowise leave his shipmate in the lurch.  And the damsel said: “Fair man, I had best go with thee; I shall not hinder thee, but further thee rather, so that thou shalt make one day’s journey of two.”

And she put forth her hand to him, and caressed him smiling, and fawned upon him, and he heeded it little, but hung not aback from them since they were ready for the road: so they set forth all three together.

They made such diligence on the backward road that the sun was not set by then they came to Wood-end; and there was the King sitting in the door of his pavilion.  Thither went Hallblithe straight, and thrust through the throng, and stood before the King; who greeted him kindly, and was no less sweet of face than on that other day.

Hallblithe hailed him not, but said: “King, look on my anguish, and if thou art other than a king of dreams and lies, play no longer with me, but tell me straight out if thou knowest of my troth-plight maiden, whether she is in this land or not.”

Then the King smiled on him and said: “True it is that I know of her; yet know I not whether she is in this land or not.”

“King,” said Hallblithe, “wilt thou bring us together and stay my heart’s bleeding?”

Said the King: “I cannot, since I know not where she is.”

“Why didst thou lie to me the other day?” said Hallblithe.

“I lied not,” said the King; “I bade bring thee to the woman that loved thee, and whom thou shouldst love; and that is my daughter.  And look thou!  Even as I may not bring thee to thine earthly love, so couldst thou not make thyself manifest before my daughter, and become her deathless love.  Is it not enough?”

He spake sternly for all that he smiled, and Hallblithe said: “O King, have pity on me!”

“Yea,” said the King; “pity thee I do: but I will live despite thy sorrow; my pity of thee shall not slay me, or make thee happy.  Even in such wise didst thou pity my daughter.”

Said Hallblithe: “Thou art mighty, O King, and maybe the mightiest.  Wilt thou not help me?”

“How can I help thee?” said the King, “thou who wilt not help thyself.  Thou hast seen what thou shouldst do: do it then and be holpen.”

Then said Hallblithe: “Wilt thou not slay me, O King, since thou wilt not do aught else?”

“Nay,” said the King, “thy slaying wilt not serve me nor mine: I will neither help nor hinder.  Thou art free to seek thy love wheresoever thou wilt in this my realm.  Depart in peace!”

Hallblithe saw that the King was angry, though he smiled upon him; yet so coldly, that the face of him froze the very marrow of Hallblithe’s bones: and he said within himself: “This King of lies shall not slay me, though mine anguish be hard to bear: for I am alive, and it may be that my love is in this land, and I may find her here, and how to reach another land I know not.”

So he turned from before the face