Story and Song of Black Roderick | Page 4

one could he see, but when he turned him south, there among the trees he saw an old, bent woman gathering herbs. He turned his horse and, full of rage, drove it towards her.
"Was it not thy voice that hurt my ears as I stood upon the hill?" quoth the Black Earl, his tongue silken in his rage.
"Nay," said the ancient crone; "I heard but the linnet's song upon the tree, and the sound of running water that is murmuring in the grove. Listen, and thou, too, shalt hear."
"Nay," quoth she again, for the Black Earl scowled so at her that she feared to be silent. "If I said this thing, why should it vex the ear of so proud a knight? Yonder black rook did look into my face with an inquisitive eye as I plucked my herbs and harmed no man, so I, angry at the wicked one, cursed him begone. As he flew affrighted at my hand, I turned my eyes into my own heart. The birds and I, do we not both root in the cold earth, seeking to draw from it our desires? Black and ill-looking, we dig all day. 'Who art thou,' quoth I to myself, 'that evil should fly before thee?' Wicked that I am," cried the witch, "and sorrow upon me that my words have vexed thine ears!"
Now the Black Earl did look upon her in anger, and but half believed her tale. His trouble being heavy upon him, he bade her leave her lamenting and answer his question.
"There is one," quoth he, "who doth wander upon the hill-side, far from her home, a lady of high degree; sawest thou any such," saith he, "for I have sought her long?"
Now will I sing thee what was said and what happened, lest thou grow weary of my prose:
_"I have not seen your lady here," The withered dame replied; "But I have met a little lass Who wrung her hands and cried._
_"She was not clad in silken robe, Nor rode a palfrey white, She had no maidens in her train, Behind her rode no knight._
_"But she crept weary up yon hill And crouched upon the sward; I dare not think that she could be Spouse to so great a lord."_
_Now darkly frowned Earl Roderick, He turned his face away; And shame and anger in his heart Disturbed him with their sway._
_For he had never cared to know What his young bride would wear; He gave her neither horse nor hound, Nor jewels for her hair._
Now shall I tell how the Black Earl clapped his hand upon his dagger, and said in a great rage: "Where went this little lass, and whom hath she by her side? for whoever he be, I shall show to him no pity. Neither shall her tears save her. Nor shall thy age serve thee, witch, if thou hast spoken not the truth. Whither went they, so I may follow, as the hound goes on the trail of the deer?"
"Oh, sharp sorrow thy anger is!" cried the old crone; "what can I say, save what my eye hath seen and my ear hath heard? The little lass passed me as I gathered my herbs under the dew. She hath by her side no lord nor lover. She went sad and alone. Here climbed she the height of the hill, and there sat she making her lament."
"And what lament made she?" said the Black Earl, putting his dagger into its sheath.
"Once called she on her father, as one who drowns in deep waters would call upon a passing ship. Twice called she upon her mother, as one would call upon a house of rest or of hospitality. Thrice called she upon Earl Roderick, as one would call at the gates of paradise, there to find rescue and love."
"And said she naught else?" said the Black Earl, his head upon his breast.
"Yea," quoth the crone, "when she called upon her father, she smiled through her tears. 'Didst thou know I perish,' quoth she, 'thy arms would reach to save me!'
"And when she called twice upon her mother, her mouth smiled even the same, 'for didst thou learn my hunger, thy heart would warm me to life again'; but when she called three times upon Earl Roderick, she paused as though for an answer, and smiled no more. 'Thee,' quoth she, 'I perish for, I hunger for. Thou lovest me not at all.'
"So did she sit and make her moan upon the hill, and here watched she the lights in the far windows of her lost home quench themselves one by one. 'Now,' quoth she, 'my mother sleepeth, and now my father. And now by all am I forgotten.' Then did she steal, in the dim light, down from the hill, and I