st a little brown falcon, very
fluffy and bedraggled, which she smoothed and fondled as she
walked. as she came out into the sunshine, alleyne noticed that
her light gown, slashed with pink, was all stained with earth and
with moss upon one side from shoulder to hem. he stood in the
shadow of an oak staring at her with parted lips, for this woman
seemed to him to be the most beautiful and graceful creature that
mind could conceive of. such had he imagined the angels, and
such he had tried to paint them in the beaulieu missals; but here
there was something human, were it only in the battered hawk and
discolored dress, which sent a tingle and thrill through his
nerves such as no dream of radiant and stainless spirit had ever
yet been able to conjure up. good, quiet, uncomplaining mother
nature, long slighted and miscalled, still bide, her time and
draws to her bosom the most errant of her children.
the two walked swiftly across the meadow to the narrow bridge, he
in front and she a pace or two behind. there they paused, and
stood for a few minutes face to face talking earnestly. alleyne
had read and had heard of love and of lovers. such were these,
doubtless--this golden-bearded man and the fair damsel with the
cold, proud face. why else should they wander together in the
woods, or be so lost in talk by rustic streams? and yet as he
watched, uncertain whether to advance from the cover or to choose
some other path to the house, he soon came to doubt the truth of
this first conjecture. the man stood, tall and square, blocking
the entrance to the bridge, and throwing out his hands as he
spoke in a wild eager fashion, while the deep tones of his stormy
voice rose at times into accents of menace and of anger. she
stood fearlessly in front of him, still stroking her bird; but
twice she threw a swift questioning glance over her shoulder, as
one who is in search of aid. so moved was the young clerk by
these mute appeals, that he came forth from the trees and crossed
the meadow, uncertain what to do, and yet loth to hold back from
one who might need his aid. so intent were they upon each other
that neither took note of his approach; until, when he was close
upon them, the man threw his arm roughly round the damsel's waist
and drew her towards him, she straining her lithe, supple figure
away and striking fiercely at him, while the hooded hawk screamed
with ruffled wings and pecked blindly in its mistress's defence.
bird and maid, however, had but little chance against their
assailant who, laughing loudly, caught her wrist in one hand
while he drew her towards him with the other.
"the best rose has ever the longest thorns," said he. "quiet,
little one, or you may do yourself a hurt. must pay saxon toll
on saxon land, my proud maude, for all your airs and graces."
"you boor!" she hissed. "you base underbred clod! is this your
care and your hospitality? i would rather wed a branded serf
from my father's fields. leave go, i say---- ah! good youth,
heaven has sent you. make him loose me! by the honor of your
mother, i pray you to stand by me and to make this knave loose
me."
"stand by you i will, and that blithely." said alleyne.
"surely, sir, you should take shame to hold the damsel against
her will."
the man turned a face upon him which was lion-like in its
strength and in its wrath. with his tangle of golden hair, his
fierce blue eyes, and his large, well-marked features, he was the
most comely man whom alleyne had ever seen, and yet there was
something so sinister and so fell in his expression that child or
beast might well have shrunk from him. his brows were drawn, his
cheek flushed, and there was a mad sparkle in his eyes which
spoke of a wild, untamable nature.
"young fool!" he cried, holding the woman still to his side,
though every line of her shrinking figure spoke her abhorrence.
"do you keep your spoon in your own broth. i rede you to go on
your way, lest worse befall you. this little wench has come with
me and with me she shall bide."
"liar!" cried the woman; and, stooping her head, she suddenly bit
fiercely into the broad brown hand which held her. he whipped it
back with an oath, while she tore herself free and slipped behind
alleyne, cowering up against him like the trembling leveret who
sees the falcon poising for the swoop above him.
"stand off my land!" the man said fiercely, heedless of the blood
which trickled freely from his fingers. "what have you to do
here? by your dress you should be one of those cursed clerks who
overrun the land like vile rats, poking and prying into other
men's concerns, too caitiff to fight and too lazy to work. by
the rood! if i had my will upon ye, i should nail you upon the
abbey doors, as they hang vermin before their holes. art neither
man nor woman, young shavel
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