Story and Song of Black Roderick | Page 3

Roderick."
She kissed the wild bramble lifting its petals in the sun.
"I shall return to thee soon."
And so, springing to her feet, she ran laughing down the hill, and as she
ran the spirit of the hills was with her, blowing in her eyes and lifting
her soft hair.
"I shall return to thee soon," she said again, and so entered her father's
house and prepared herself for her betrothed.
What of her dream was there now? She was indeed the Earl's bride, but,
alack! she was divorced from his heart and was naught to his days.
Never did she sit by his knee when he drew his chair by the fire, weary
from the chase, nor lean beside him while he slept, to wonder at her
happiness. Down the great halls she went, looking through the narrow
windows on the outside world, as a brown moth flutters at the pane,
weary of an imprisonment that had in its hold the breath of death.

Weary and pale grew she, and more morose and stern the Black Earl,
and of their tragedy there seemed no end. But when a year had nigh
passed, one rosy morning a servant-lass met Black Roderick as he came
from his chamber, her eyes heavy with tears.
And of what she said I shall sing, lest thou grow weary of my prose:
_"Alas!" she said, "Earl Roderick, 'Tis well that you should know That
each gray eve, lone wandering, My mistress dear doth go._
_"She comes with sorrow in her eyes Home in the dawning light; My
lord, she is so weak and young To travel in the night."_
_Now stern grew Black Earl Roderick, But answered not at all; He took
his hunting harness down That hung upon the wall._
_Then quickly went he to the chase, And slowly came he back, And
there he met his old sweetheart, Who stood across his track._
So shall I tell how she, sighing and white of face, laid her soft hand
upon his bridle-rein so he could not go from her. Her breath came out
of her like the hissing of a trodden snake, poisoning the ear of the
horseman.
"Bend to me thy proud head, Black Earl," quoth she, "for it shall be low
enough soon. This is a tale I bring to thee of sorrow and shame. Bend
me thy proud neck, Black Roderick, for the burden I must lay upon it
shall bow thee as the snow does the mountain pine. Bend to me thine
ear."
To him then she said:
"Where goeth your mistress?"
"What care I?" said the Black Earl, "since she be not thou."
"If she were I," said his lost love, "she would seek no other save thee
alone."
"What sayest thou?" said the Black Earl, pale as death.
"Each night she goeth through the woods of Glenasmole to the hill of
brown Kippure, and there lingereth until the dawn be chill."
"Who hath her love?" saith the Black Earl.
"A shepherd, or mayhap a swineherd--who knoweth?" quoth the
serpent voice. "By no brave prince art thou supplanted."
At this the Black Earl struck his hand upon his breast.
"Lord pity me," quoth he, "that in my time should come the stain upon
our honored house! My name, that was so white, shall now blush red.
My proud ancestors will curse me from their tomb. Let thou go my rein,

that I may seek this wanton and give her ready punishment."
So quick he drew the rein from her hand that she wellnigh stumbled.
And like one bereft of mind he rode through the woods and up the hill
seeking his false bride. High and low he searched, but no sign of his
lost mistress did he discover. Out in the distance he saw the shining city
of Baile-ata-Cliat, on the near wood side of which his gray towers
stood. He could see the flag on its topmost turret waving in the breeze
like a beckoning finger calling him back from his futile search. He
turned him about, and on every side of him were the shadowy
mountains watching him and appalling him with their mystery.
Impatient he turned his eyes upon the ground; a bramble moving in the
wind cast itself about his feet. He crushed it under his heel. A bee
darting from one of the trodden flowers made a battle-cry, and bared
her sting for his neck. He struck it down among the leaves; following
its fall, his eyes, drawn by some other eyes, rested on a hollow by a
stone. There he saw gazing at him the whiskered face of a red weasel,
looking without pity, without fear.
"Evil beast!" said the Black Earl, glad to speak, for the silence of all the
listening things who