Part 7

“Good knight of mine, good will have I To help this healing though I die.” “Nay,” Balen said, “but love may try What help in living love may lie. —I will not lose the life of her While my life lasteth.” So she gave The tribute love was fain to crave, But might not heal though fain to save, Were God’s grace helpfuller.

Another maid in later Mays Won with her life that woful praise, And died. But they, when surging day’s Deep tide fulfilled the dawn’s wide ways, Rode forth, and found by day or night No chance to cross their wayfaring Till when they saw the fourth day spring A knight’s hall gave them harbouring Rich as a king’s house might.

And while they sat at meat and spake Words bright and kind as grace might make Sweet for true knighthood’s kindly sake, They heard a cry beside them break The still-souled joy of blameless rest. “What noise is this?” quoth Balen. “Nay,” His knightly host made answer, “may Our grief not grieve you though I say How here I dwell unblest.

“Not many a day has lived and died Since at a tournay late I tried My strength to smite and turn and ride Against a knight of kinglike pride, King Pellam’s brother: twice I smote The splendour of his strength to dust: And he, fulfilled of hate’s fierce lust, Swore vengeance, pledged for hell to trust, And keen as hell’s wide throat.

“Invisible as the spirit of night That heaven and earth in depth and height May see not by the mild moon’s light Nor even when stars would grant them sight, He walks and slays as plague’s blind breath Slays: and my son, whose anguish here Makes moan perforce that mars our cheer, He wounded, even ere love might fear That hate were strong as death.

“Nor may my son be whole till he Whose stroke through him hath stricken me Shall give again his blood to be Our healing: yet may no man see This felon, clothed with darkness round And keen as lightning’s life.” Thereon Spake Balen, and his presence shone Even as the sun’s when stars are gone That hear dawn’s trumpet sound.

“That knight I know: two knights of mine, Two comrades, sealed by faith’s bright sign, Whose eyes as ours that live should shine, And drink the golden sunlight’s wine With joy’s thanksgiving that they live, He hath slain in even the same blind wise: Were all wide wealth beneath the skies Mine, might I meet him, eyes on eyes, All would I laugh to give.”

His host made answer, and his gaze Grew bright with trust as dawn’s moist maze With fire: “Within these twenty days, King Pellam, lord of Lystenayse, Holds feast through all this country cried, And there before the knightly king May no knight come except he bring For witness of his wayfaring His paramour or bride.

“And there that day, so soon to shine, This knight, your felon foe and mine, Shall show, full-flushed with bloodred wine, The fierce false face whereon we pine To wreak the wrong he hath wrought us, bare As shame should see and brand it.” “Then,” Said Balen, “shall he give again His blood to heal your son, and men Shall see death blind him there.”

“Forth will we fare to-morrow,” said His host: and forth, as sunrise led, They rode; and fifteen days were fled Ere toward their goal their steeds had sped. And there alighting might they find For Balen’s host no place to rest, Who came without a gentler guest Beside him: and that household’s hest Bade leave his sword behind.

“Nay,” Balen said, “that do I not: My country’s custom stands, God wot, That none whose lot is knighthood’s lot, To ride where chance as fire is hot With hope or promise given of fight, Shall fail to keep, for knighthood’s part, His weapon with him as his heart; And as I came will I depart, Or hold herein my right.”

Then gat he leave to wear his sword Beside the strange king’s festal board Where feasted many a knight and lord In seemliness of fair accord: And Balen asked of one beside, “Is there not in this court, if fame Keep faith, a knight that hath to name Garlon?” and saying that word of shame, He scanned that place of pride.

“Yonder he goeth against the light, He with the face as swart as night,” Quoth the other: “but he rides to fight Hid round by charms from all men’s sight, And many a noble knight he hath slain, Being wrapt in darkness deep as hell And silence dark as shame.” “Ah, well,” Said Balen, “is that he? the spell May be the sorcerer’s bane.”

Then Balen gazed upon him long, And thought, “If here I wreak my wrong, Alive I may not scape, so strong The felon’s friends about him throng; And if I leave him here alive, This chance perchance may life not give Again: much evil, if he live, He needs must do, should fear forgive When wrongs bid strike and strive.”

And Garlon, seeing how Balen’s eye Dwelt on him as his heart waxed high With joy in wrath to see him nigh, Rose wolf-like with a wolfish cry And crossed and smote him on the face, Saying, “Knight, what wouldst thou with me? Eat, For shame, and gaze not: eat thy meat Do that thou art come for: stands thy seat Next ours of royal race?”

“Well hast thou said: thy rede rings true; That which I came for will I do,” Quoth Balen: forth his fleet sword flew, And clove the head of Garlon through Clean to the shoulders. Then he cried Loud to his lady, “Give me here The truncheon of the shameful spear Wherewith he slew your knight, when fear Bade hate in darkness ride.”

And gladly, bright with grief made glad, She gave the truncheon as he bade, For still she bare it with her, sad And strong in hopeless hope she had, Through all dark days of thwarting fear, To see if doom should fall aright And as God’s fire-fraught thunder smite That head, clothed round with hell-faced night, Bare now before her here.

And Balen smote therewith the dead Dark felon’s body through, and said Aloud, “With even this truncheon, red With baser blood than brave men bled Whom in thy shameful hand it slew, Thou hast slain a nobler knight, and now It clings and cleaves thy body: thou Shall cleave again no brave man’s brow, Though hell would aid anew.”

And toward his host he turned and spake; “Now for your son’s long-suffering sake Blood ye may fetch enough, and take Wherewith to heal his hurt, and make Death warm as life.” Then rose a cry Loud as the wind’s when stormy spring Makes all the woodland rage and ring: “Thou hast slain my brother,” said the king, “And here with him shalt die.”

“Ay?” Balen laughed him answer. “Well, Do it then thyself.” And the answer fell Fierce as a blast of hate from hell, “No man of mine that with me dwell Shall strike at thee but I their lord For love of this my brother slain.” And Pellam caught and grasped amain A grim great weapon, fierce and fain To feed his hungering sword.

And eagerly he smote, and sped Not well: for Balen’s blade, yet red With lifeblood of the murderous dead, Between the swordstroke and his head Shone, and the strength of the eager stroke Shore it in sunder: then the knight, Naked and weaponless for fight, Ran seeking him a sword to smite As hope within him woke.

And so their flight for deathward fast From chamber forth to chamber passed Where lay no weapon, till the last Whose doors made way for Balen cast Upon him as a sudden spell Wonder that even as lightning leapt Across his heart and eyes, and swept As storm across his soul that kept Wild watch, and watched not well.

For there the deed he did, being near Death’s danger, breathless as the deer Driven hard to bay, but void of fear, Brought sorrow down for many a year On many a man in many a land. All glorious shone that chamber, bright As burns at sunrise heaven’s own height: With cloth of gold the bed was dight, That flamed on either hand.

And one he saw within it lie: A table of all clear gold thereby Stood stately, fair as morning’s eye, With four strong silver pillars, high And firm as faith and hope may be: And on it shone the gift he sought, A spear most marvellously wrought, That when his eye and handgrip caught Small fear at heart had he.

Right on King Pellam then, as fire Turns when the thwarting winds wax higher, He turned, and smote him down. So dire The stroke was, when his heart’s desire Struck, and had all its fill of hate, That as the king fell swooning down Fell the walls, rent from base to crown, Prone as prone seas that break and drown Ships fraught with doom for freight.

And there for three days’ silent space Balen and Pellam face to face Lay dead or deathlike, and the place Was death’s blind kingdom, till the grace That God had given the sacred seer For counsel or for comfort led His Merlin thither, and he said, Standing between the quick and dead, “Rise up, and rest not here.”

And Balen rose and set his eyes Against the seer’s as one that tries His heart against the sea’s and sky’s And fears not if he lives or dies, Saying, “I would have my damosel, Ere I fare forth, to fare with me.” And sadly Merlin answered, “See Where now she lies; death knows if she Shall now fare ill or well.

“And in this world we meet no more, Balen.” And Balen, sorrowing sore, Though fearless yet the heart he bore Beat toward the life that lay before, Rode forth through many a wild waste land Where men cried out against him, mad With grievous faith in fear that bade Their wrath make moan for doubt they had Lest hell had armed his hand.