The Fortunes of Garin by Mary Johnston
CHAPTER XXVII
SPRING TIME
IN the winter dawn Garin rose, saddled his horse, and, mounting, rodefrom that place. He travelled through burned and wasted country, and hesaw many a piteous sight. But folk that were left were building anew,and the sky was bright and the sunshine good. He went by the ruins ofRaimbaut’s keep, and at last he came to Castel-Noir.
Foulque lived and the black tower stood. News of salvation had run likewildfire. Garin found Foulque out-of-doors, old and meagre men andyoung lads with him. The dozen huts that sheltered by the black castle,sheltered still. The fields that it claimed had gone undevastated.“Garin’s luck!” said Foulque; whereupon old Jean crossed himselffor fear that Sir Foulque had crossed the luck.—But the young andmiddle-aged men who had gone to war for Roche-de-Frêne had not yetreturned. Some would not return. The women of the huts looked haunted,and though the children played, they did not do so freely. But the warhad ended, and some would come back, and Christmas-tide was at hand andthe sun shone on the brown fields.
Foulque saw Garin coming. He put his hand above his eyes. “_Peste!_” hesaid. “I always had good sight—what’s the matter now? Look, boy, formy eyes blur!”
They all looked, then they cried, “Sir Garin!” and the younger rusheddown to the road.
That day and night passed. The folk of Castel-Noir had liking for SirFoulque, and that despite some shrewdness of dealing and a bitter wit.But they were becoming aware that they loved Sir Garin. He stood andtold them of how this man had done and how that, of two brave deedsof Sicart’s, and how Jean the Talkative talked but did well. He toldthem who, to his knowledge, had quitted this life; and he spoke notlike a lord but like a friend to those who upon that telling broke intomourning. He could not tell them how life and death stood now amongCastel-Noir men, for he had been away from Roche-de-Frêne. Castel-Noircame to understand that he had been upon some service for the princess,and that that explained why there was with him neither squire nor man.To Foulque that evening in the hall, by the fire, he told in part thestory of what the princess had wrought for Roche-de-Frêne.
Foulque drew deeper breath. The colour came into his withered cheek, hetwisted in his chair. “I heard rumours when Aquitaine lifted and wentaway, and Montmaure slunk back—but my habit is to wait for somethingmore than rumours!... That is a brave lady—a brave adventure! By themass! When I was young that would have stirred me!”
Garin laughed at him. “It stirs you now, Foulque!”
Foulque would not grant that. But even while he denied, he looked lesscrippled and shrivelled. “You did your _devoir_ also.... _Audiart theWise_—Well, she may be so!”
“She is so,” said Garin.
He slept that night, stirred in the early morning, rose, and, dressing,called to Sicart’s son in the courtyard to bring his horse. Old Pierregave him wheaten bread and a bowl of milk. Foulque, wrapped in hisfurred mantle, came from the hall and talked with him while he ate anddrank. The sun at the hill-tops, he rode down the narrow way from theblack tower and was lost to sight in the fir wood. He rode until hereached a certain craggy height of earth from which might be viewed theroad by which the Princess of Roche-de-Frêne must approach Our Ladyin Egypt. The height was shaggy with tree and bush, it overhung theway, commanding long stretches to either hand. Dismounting, he tiedhis horse in a small, thick wood at the back of the hill, then climbedafoot to the rough and broken miniature plateau atop. Even as he cameto this he saw upon the western stretch of the road two horsemen, andpresently made out that they were men of Beauvoisin’s sent ahead. Theypassed beneath him, cantered on, faces set for Our Lady in Egypt.
Garin found a couch of rock, a hollow, sandstrewn cleft where, lying atlength, small bushes hid him from all observation. Here he stretchedhimself, pillowed his head upon his arms, and waited to see theprincess pass. Time went by, and the morning air brought him sound fromthe other hand. He parted the bushes and looking east saw approachinga great and gallant troop—lords and knights of Roche-de-Frêne, comingto greet their princess close within the boundaries of her own land....They came on with banners—a goodly column and a joyful. Close at hand,he began to single out forms and faces that he knew, and first he sawStephen the Marshal riding at the head, and then Raimon of Les Arbres,and beside this lord, Aimar de Panemonde. Garin’s heart rejoiced thatAimar lived. He looked fondly upon his brother-in-arms, riding beneaththe craggy hill. Many another that he knew he saw. Others he missed,and feared that they did not live or that they lay hurt, for else theywould have been here.
The great troop, for all it rode with a singing heart, with exultationand laughter and triumph, had a war-worn look. The men and the horseswere gaunt. The men’s eyes seemed yet to be looking on battle sights.Their gestures were angular, energetic and final, their speech short,not flowing. The colour of bronze, the hardness of iron, the edge ofsteel were yet in presence. It was to be seen that they had knownhunger and weariness and desperation, and had withstood with courage.The man stretched upon the rock-edge above the passing numbers felt hiscommunion with them. They were his brothers....
Not only these. As they rode by he saw in vision all the lands ofRoche-de-Frêne and those who peopled them, men and women and children.And the town of Roche-de-Frêne and its citizens, men and women andchildren, and all who had defended it. And all the hills and vales oflife.... He saw the slain and the hurt and the impoverished and thehearts that bled with loss—the waste fields and the broken walls. Hesaw work to be done—long work. And when that work was done and therewere only scars that did not throb, yet was there work—building andbuilding, though it could not be weighed. He saw as he knew that shesaw—and the land became deep and dear to him, and the people becamefather and mother and child, brother and sister and friend.... “It is abaptism,” said Garin, and covered his eyes with his hands.
The great company went by, lessened in apparent bulk, lessened stillupon the westward running road. Its trumpeters sounded their trumpets.Out of the distance came to Garin’s ear an answering fanfare, delicateand far like fairy trumpets. Rising ground and purple wood hid themeeting between the Princess of Roche-de-Frêne and her barons andvaliant knights.
The sun climbed toward the summit. The troubadour lay in the high cleftof the rock, felt the beams, breathed the clear, pure air, hearkenedto the sough of the breeze in sere grass and bush. All earth and airwere his, and the golden home of warmth and light, the great middle orbwhose touch he felt. He waited for sound or sight that should tell himthat the princess and her doubled train were coming. It was not longto wait. In the night a light rain had fallen—there was no dust, andthe road was softened beneath the horses’ hoofs. The great companyappeared now, like a vision, brightened and heightened to the outer eyeby strength of the inner. Beauty and might, and sadness and joy, alllights and all shadows, gained a firmer recognition.
Garin, concentrated, watched the company come toward him. Again thereechoed the eve of his knighthood, when through the darkness he had keptvigil. But he kept vigil now a more awakened being, with a wider reachand a richer knowledge.
The train came toward him, and now he heard the sound of it, the treadof horses, metallic noises, the human voice, all subdued to a deepmurmur as of an incoming sea. This increased until single notes weredistinguishable. The form grew larger, then he could see componentforms. Music was being made, he saw the great blue banners.... Andstill he knew that all was a mightier and a brighter thing thanyesterday he had known.... Now he saw the Princess of Roche-de-Frêneriding between Beauvoisin and Stephen the Marshal.
She passed the rock whereon he lay, and he saw a great and high andbright soul.... It passed—all passed. He felt the darkness, but thenthe starlight.
He stayed yet an hour there in the cleft, with the brown grass abouthim and overhead the sky like sapphire. Then, descending the crag, hesought his horse in the wood and, mounting, turned his face towardCastel-Noir.
That evening in the black tower Foulque would discuss family fortunes,and how Cast
“Good masters?... We may be. But—”
Foulque struck at the fire with his crutch. “You are a poet—I am apractical man. Let us leave dreaming!... Raimbaut’s castle will berebuilt by the next of kin.”
“Dreaming?... What is dreaming?”
Foulque left his chair, and limped to and fro before the hugefireplace. Garin from the settle corner watched him. The light playedover both and reddened the ancient hall. “Garin,” said Foulque.“knightly fame is good and fame of a poet is good, and emirs’ ransomsare good—God knows they are good! But when will you wed and so buildour house?”
“Ah!” said Garin, “did you ever think, Foulque, of how long may betime?”
Foulque waved his hand. “You should not play with it! You should thinkof the future! They say that you love one whom you call the Fair Goal—”
But Garin, rising, moved to a deep window, and looking out, breathedthe night. “There is the great star in the arm of the cypress!... Iused to see that, when I lay in those hot towns of Paynimry.” Nor wouldhe speak again of that manner of building Castel-Noir.
The morrow came and went and the morrow and that morrow’s morrow.December paced by and gave the torch of time to January. January, acold and dark month, gave the torch to February, a brief and windy one,March had it then, and he had ideas in his head of birds and flowers.April came and the world was green.
The ravaging of the dragon was becoming in Roche-de-Frêne an oldthought. Throughout the winter the Princess of Roche-de-Frêne andthe able people of her lands laboured to redeem well-being and theconditions of growth. Plan and better plan, faint success and greatersuccess; and now when the spring was coming, good ground beneaththe feet! The land began to smile. The town of Roche-de-Frêne, thecathedral and the castle felt the warmth. Bishop Ugo preached theEaster sermon, and he preached a mighty and an eloquent one. You feltlilies and roses come up through it.
Ugo had said at Christmas-tide that he had never doubted the triumph ofthe right. Questioned at Candlemas, though very gently, by one of thehyperbold, he had answered gravely that Father Eustace, in confession,had acknowledged that he was not certain as to whether Our BlessedLady of Roche-de-Frêne had indeed spoken to him. Pride had been inhis heart, and the demon himself might have taken dazzling form andspoken! Father Eustace for penance had been sent, barefoot and dumb,to a remote monastery where in his cell he might gain true vision.Easter-tide, Bishop Ugo flowered praise of Roche-de-Frêne’s princess.That great lady took it with her enigmatical smile.
In the castle-garden Alazais watched the crocus bloom, the hyacinth andthe daffodil. Gilles de Valence sang to her, and sometimes Raimon deSaint-Rémy, or, when no troubadour was there, Elias of Montaudon wasbrought upon the greensward to sing other men’s verses. Knights cameand went. Her ladies made a bright half-ring about her, and she andthey and the knights and poets discussed the world under the star ofLove.
Sometimes Audiart came into the garden, but not often. There was muchthat yet was to be done.... She was oftener in the town than in thecastle, often away from both, riding far and near in her domain, toother towns and villages and towers. But as the spring increased andthe green leaves came upon the trees, order was regained. The sapof life returned to the veins that had been drained, time and placeknew again hope and power. The princess looked upon a birthland thathad lifted from a pit, and now was sandalled and ready for furtherjourneying. She came oftener now to the garden, and at night, from herchamber in the White Tower, she watched the stars.
In the town whose roofs lay below her, the craftsmen were back attheir crafts. Again they were dyeing scarlet and weaving fine webs andworking in leather and wax and metal and stone. Merchant and traderrenewed their life. Roche-de-Frêne once more hummed as a hive thatproduced, not destroyed. It produced values dense and small, but soit learned of values beyond these. Presently the old talk of libertywould spring up, not feared by this princess. When, in late April, sheheld high court and a great council, Thibaut Canteleu—Master Mayor,clear-eyed and merry—sat, with two of the town’s magistrates, in thecouncil chamber.
On the eve of that council Stephen the Marshal spent an hour with theprincess. She made him sit beside her in the White Tower; she spoke tohim at length, in a low voice telling a story. Stephen listened withhis eyes held by hers, then, when she kept silence, bowed his face uponhis hands and sat so for a time. At last he raised his head. “Mine is aplain mind, my Lady Audiart,—only a faithful one! There are many goodwords, and ‘friend’ is a right good word, a high knight among them,and ‘friendship’ is a noble fief. I take ‘friend’ and ‘friendship’ formy wearing and my estate, my Lady Audiart—aye, and I will wear themknightly, not cravenly, with a melancholy heart! Friend to you andfriend to him, and Saint Michael my witness! loyal servant to you both.”
“Stephen, my friend,” answered the princess, “you say true that greatliking is a great knight, and lasting friendship is a mighty realm! Itplants its own happiness in its own fields.”
She rose, and standing with him at the window, spoke of old things, oldlong memories that they had in common, spoke of her father, Gaucelm theFortunate.
The next day she held council, sitting on the dais robed in blue, agold circlet upon her head, facing her barons and knights-banneret,churchmen who held lands from her, and leaders of the townsmen. Thatwhich she had to lay before them was the matter of her marriage....
At Castel-Noir the dark fir trees wore emeralds. The stream had itsloud spring music. Nor Foulque nor Garin had been idle through thewinter. Back to the black tower and the hamlet had come their men whohad fought at Roche-de-Frêne—Foulque’s men and the men who had comewith Garin from the land over the sea. Houses had to be built forthese—more fields ploughed and planted. Stables had to be made larger.The road was bad that led from the black tower to the nearest highway;it was remade. When spring came Castel-Noir was in better estate thanever before. Garin spoke of what manner of priest they should bringin—and of some clerk who might be given a house and who could teach.
Raimbaut the Six-fingered had for his fief been man of Montmaure, butfor it Montmaure had been man of Roche-de-Frêne. Now, again, was itonly Roche-de-Frêne’s. Montmaure might look blackly across from hisown borders, but that was all.... It seemed that, escheating to theruling house, the barony was not yet given, for service paid and to bepaid, to some lord who should rebuild the castle and bring up the landsthat now were waste.... Foulque had hours of speculation as to that.In the hall, of evenings, he looked out of the corners of his eyes atGarin, reading or dreaming by the fire. Who had done greater service,fought better, than Garin? If the princess were truly wise—if she weregrateful—
* * * * *
Foulque spoke once on this matter to Garin, but received so absolutea check that his tongue declined to bring it forward again. None theless, his brain kept revolving the notion. To add to Castel-Noir thewhole containing fief, from knight alone to become baron, to keepthe black tower but to build besides a fair, strong castle—Who atRoche-de-Frêne, or away from Roche-de-Frêne, had served more fully thanhad Garin? Foulque thought with a consuming impatience of how little heseemed to care for wealth and honours.
On the heel of such an hour as this with Foulque, came Aimar dePanemonde. He came with the sheen and beauty of the spring. Foulque sawhim from the tower window as he left the fir wood and began to mountthe winding road. Behind him were four or five others. All rode noblehorses, all were richly clad. It came into Foulque’s head—from wherehe knew not—that here was an envoy with his company. The little troopseemed to him rich and significant, despatched with knowledge, directedto an end. At once Foulque connected that with Garin—and why aga
Garin of the Golden Island met his brother-in-arms without the castlegate. Aimar threw himself from his horse. Foulque in the tower abovewatched the two embrace, then limped down the stair to meet theguest and order the household.... And soon it seemed that Sir Aimarde Panemonde might indeed be considered an envoy! The Princess ofRoche-de-Frêne would have Sir Garin de Castel-Noir return to hercourt—commanded his presence on the day of Saint Mark.
There were three days to spare. Aimar, having discharged his mission,spent them happily, as did those who had ridden with him. Foulquemade talk of the court and the town until—and that was not long—hefound that, for some reason that he could not discern, Aimar did nottalk readily of these. Ever Foulque wished guests of Castel-Noir to behappy, was courteously minded toward them. This one especially, seeinghow great a friend to Garin he had been and was. So Foulque followedthe lead of the younger men, and in the hall, after supper, had hisreward in stories of the land over the sea—a thousand adventures notbefore drawn from Garin. Aimar’s followers and as many Castel-Noir menas could crowd into hall, came, too, to listen.
Three days went by. On the morning of the fourth farewells were made.Garin and Aimar passed out of the gate with their following and downthe winding road. With Garin was Rainier the squire, and two orthree besides. Foulque and all who might watched them go, took thebackward-turning wave of the knights’ hands, marked them until theyvanished in the fir wood. Foulque went back to hall and began today-dream of Garin and that fief had that been Raimbaut’s.
The two knights with their following rode through the spring weather.Very sweet it was, earth and sky more fair than might be told.... Andso, in the early afternoon, they came in sight of Roche-de-Frêne.
It was holiday and festival. The people upon the road seemedlight-hearted. The scarred plain had been helped, and now spring flungover it a mantle of green. When they came to the hill of Roche-de-Frênethe people had thickened about them; when they entered by the westerngate the town seemed joyous. The folk were abroad and there was to bemade out laughter and singing. As they rode through the streets theymet again and yet again, and at last continually, recognition. Ithad a nature that might please the knightliest knight! The marvel ofthe cathedral rose before them, and the gold of the sunshine and thesweetness of the air took from it a shading of awfulness but gave inreturn benignancy. They mounted the high street, and now the mightyshape of the castle increased. Sunlight wrapped it, too, and abovewas the stair of the sky. Black Tower and Eagle Tower, Red Towerand Lion Tower and White Tower—and Garin saw the tree-tops of thegarden.... They crossed the moat, entered between Red Tower and LionTower. Trumpets were being sounded. Here, too, seemed festival. Theydismounted in the outer court—men of rank came about them with thefairest welcome—they were marshalled soon to a rich lodging. Noneswere ringing, the spring afternoon slipping away.
An hour passed, another was half run. Garin of the Golden Island, alonesave for Rainier in the room that had been given him, heard the knockat the door. “Let him in,” he said to the squire, and Pierol entered.The page gave his message. “Sir Garin de Castel-Noir, the princessrests in the garden. She would speak with you there.” Garin took hismantle and followed.
In the castle garden the fruit trees were abloom. Their clear shadowslay on the sward while the shadows of the taller trees struck againstthe enclosing walls. Below the watch-tower there was a sheet ofdaffodils. The many birds of the garden were singing, and the beesyet hummed in the fruit trees. But there was no gay throng other thanthese, or other winged things, or the selves of the flowers.
It was quiet in the garden, and at first view it seemed a solitude.Then, as he came toward the heart of it, he saw the princess, seatedbeneath the great tree about which the garden was built. In the droopand sweep of its boughs had been placed a seat of marble finelywrought. Here she sat, robed in blue, and wearing, held in place by acirclet of gold, a veil threaded with gold and silver. But to-day itdid not hide her face.
As he came near, “Greeting, friend!” she said, and her voice wasthrilling music.
Garin would have bent his knee. But, “No!” she said, “do not do that!That is not to be done again between you and me.” She rose from themarble seat. She stood in flowing robes, on her head the gold circletof sovereignty, and she looked a mighty princess, knowing her own mind,guiding her own action, freeing her own spirit, unlocking always newtreasures of power and love! She came close to him, stood equal withhim. Their eyes met, and if the princess sat in hers, the prince satin his. “Do you know why I have brought you here?” she said: “I havebrought you here, Garin of the Golden Island, to ask you if you willmarry me?”
... In midsummer, on the Eve of Saint John, they were wed in thecathedral, with great music, pomp, and joy. Afterwards they kneltbefore the shrine of Our Lady of Roche-de-Frêne, and there were peoplewho said that it was then that the Blessed Image’s lips moved andthere issued the words “Peace and Happiness.” Going, the two passedthe pillars raised by Gaucelm of the Star, and coming to the tomb ofGaucelm the Fortunate laid flowers there.... But when their own longreign closed, their land held them in memory as Audiart and Garin theWise.
THE END