Part 55

He looked up and saw the maiden's eyes bent on his, and he seemed to hear the voice of the maiden speaking to him, as clearly as if she stood beside him. In these words she spoke:

'Take that stone which is on thy breast, and hold it tightly in the palm of one hand. And as thou concealest it, so will it conceal thee. Thus wilt thou be able to pass unseen between the bars of the portcullis. And I will wait for thee on the horseblock yonder, and thou wilt be able to see me, though I cannot see thee. Therefore, come and place thy hand on my shoulder, and I shall know that thou art come. And then thou must accompany me to the place where I shall hide thee.'

He saw the maiden turn away and go up the street, and Sir Owen did as the voice had bidden him. And looking down he saw nothing of himself, although he could see the soldiers looking in, and he saw the surprise and then the horror on their faces, as they realised that they had seen him spirited away before their eyes.

Sir Owen passed between them and rejoined the maiden, as she had bidden him. He went with her, still invisible, and she led him to a small house, and in it was a large and beautiful chamber, all painted with gorgeous colours, and well furnished. And there she gave him food, and he rested securely until late in the afternoon.

Then, as he looked out of the window upon the wall of the castle, which towered dark and high above him, he heard a clamour and sounds of a mourning coming from it. He asked the maiden the cause of it.

'They are administering extreme unction to the Lord Cadoc, who owns the castle, for he hath been wounded.'

'And who art thou, that thou shouldst save me who am a stranger?' he asked of the maiden.

'My name is Elined,' said the maiden, 'and since thou bearest the Blue Stone of the Little Folk, I must aid thee all I can.'

At that time she would tell him no more, but shortly left him to his rest, saying she would come to attend upon him again at the dawning.

In the silence and darkness of the night Sir Owen awoke by reason of a woful outcry and lamenting; and then he knew that Earl Cadoc, the Knight of the Fountain, was dead from the wound he had given him.

Soon after dawn he arose and clothed himself; and looking out of the window he saw the streets filled with a great host of people in black, and the weeping and the mourning were pitiful to hear. Knights, with their armour craped, rode in great companies before; then came the men-at-arms with weapons reversed; then the ladies of the household, and after these the priests came, and in their midst was the bier.

And over it was a veil of white linen, and wax tapers burning beside and around it, and of the gentlemen who supported the bier on their shoulders none was lower in rank than a powerful baron, owning broad lands and great companies of retainers.

Last of all there came a lady walking behind the bier. And though her face was stained with the many tears she had shed, and was pale with sorrow, Sir Owen thought he had never seen so beautiful a lady, or one so gentle and kind of mien.

Deeply he sorrowed because he had caused the death of her lord, inasmuch as it had given her such grief.

Her hair, yellow and long and curled, hung dishevelled about her shoulders, and her dress of rich yellow satin was torn, and across it was a wide sash of black velvet. And it was a marvel that she could see how to walk, for the tears filled her eyes.

Sir Owen could not take his gaze from her, and love and pity for her filled his mind.

When the procession had passed out of the town the maiden Elined came into the room, and Sir Owen asked her eagerly who was the lady he had seen.

'Heaven is my witness,' replied Elined, 'but she is the fairest and the sweetest and the most noble of women. She is my beloved mistress, and her name is Carol, and she is Countess of the Fountain, the widow of him thou didst slay yesterday.'

'I sorrow for that,' said Owen, 'for I have seen her grief. But, verily, she is the woman that I love best. And if my hand hath wounded her grievously, my arm would more willingly protect her.'

'Indeed, thou art brave and bold, sir knight,' said the maiden, 'and much may you win, if you are as faithful in your service and devotion to her as you have been in the service of your king, the great Arthur.'

And when it had passed midday, Elined said to Sir Owen:

'You must keep this chamber while I go and woo for thee. Stir not out into the city lest ill befall thee.'

Elined went to the castle and found all was in confusion, with mourning and lamentation. Her mistress she found sitting listlessly looking from the window with pale sorrow on her face; and to Elined's greeting she would respond not.

'It astounds me,' said Elined at length, 'to find you giving yourself up to unavailing sorrow in this way.'

'It astounds me also,' said the countess reproachfully, 'that in my time of trouble and affliction, you, whom I have enriched and favoured beyond all my handmaidens, should desert me. If I did not love thee, I should order thee to be executed.'

'It was for thy advantage that I was absent,' said Elined. 'I reproached not thy grief when thy lord lay dying, but now you have yourself to think of. Yet you seem more willing to live with the dead than to take heed what may happen to yourself in a few hours. I would have thee remember that a live dog is better than a dead lion.'

'Hence from my sight, unfeeling girl!' cried the countess in anger. 'There is no one in the world to compare with my dead lord in beauty, in strength, and in prowess. Get thee gone!'

Without a word Elined turned and went from the room. But she had not gone far before she heard the countess coughing behind her, and on looking back her mistress beckoned to her.