The Prose Marmion | Page 9

Softly down the steps they stole. Eustace led forth the steed arrayed for
the ride, and Marmion, armed to meet the elfin foe, sprang into the
saddle. The young squire listened to the resounding hoof-beats as they
grew more and more faint, and wondered as he fell asleep that one held
to be so wary, so wise, so incredulous, should ride forth at midnight to
meet a ghost in mail and plate.
The moon was bright, and as Marmion reached the elfin camp, halting,
he fearlessly blew his bugle. An answer came, so faint and hollow, that
it might have been an echo; but suddenly he saw a distinct form appear,
a mounted champion. The sight of the unexpected foe made to tremble
with horror him who never had feared knight or noble. His hand so
shook, he could scarce couch spear aright. The combat began; the two
horsemen ran their course; and in the third attack Marmion's steed
could not resist the unearthly shock--he fell, and the flower of
England's chivalry rolled in the dust.
High over the head of the fallen foe, the supposed spectre shook his
sword. Full on his face fell the moonlight, a face never to be mistaken.
It was the wraith of Ralph de Wilton, who had been sent by Marmion
to exile and to death. Thrice over his victim did the grim, ghast spectre
shake his blade, but when Marmion, white with terror, prayed for life,
the seeming vision dashed his sword into its sheath, sprang lightly to
his saddle, and vanished as he came. The moon sank from sight, and
the poor, shivering, wretched English knight lay groveling on the plain.
Could it be his mortal enemy had left the grave to strike down a living
foe, and to stare in derisive hatred from a raised visor? Whether dead or
alive, the elfin foe had little reason to spare the life of so dastardly an
enemy!

Sweetly sleeping, or patiently listening, Eustace waited for the return of
his knight, waited till he heard a horse coming, spurred to its utmost
speed. The rider hastily threw the rein to his squire, but spoke not a
word. In the dim light the youth plainly saw that the armor and the
falcon crest on his lord's helmet were covered with clay, that the knees
and sides of the noble charger were in sad plight. It was evident the
beast and his rider had been overthrown. To broken and brief rest
Eustace returned and never did he more gladly welcome the light of
day.
"Eustace did ne'er so blithely mark The first notes of the morning lark."
CHAPTER IV.
"The lark sang shrill, the cock he crew, And loudly Marmion's bugles
blew, And with their light and lively call, Brought groom and yeoman
to the stall."
Light of heart they came, but soon their mood was changed. Complaint
was heard on every side. One declared his armor had been used,
another that his spear had been taken. Young Blount, Marmion's second
squire, found his steed covered with foam, though the stable boy swore
he had left the beautiful creature well groomed on the previous
evening.
While the impatient squire raged and fumed, old Hubert cried:
"Ho, comrades, help! Bevis lies dying in his stall! To our lord this will
bring sorrow indeed. Who will dare tell him of the horse he loved so
well?"
Fitz-Eustace, who knew of the midnight ride, of the condition of horse
and rider on their return, offered to bear the unwelcome message.
Marmion, sitting plunged in deep thought, received the tidings
unmoved, gave little attention, passed the matter as if it were a mere
accident and ordered the clarions sound "To horse."
Young Blount was less easily dealt with. He declared he would pay no

fee for food or care. Man or demon, he said, had ridden his steed all
night and left him in sorry condition for the day's journey. Marmion
gave the signal to set forth, and led by the calm, gloomy Palmer, they
journeyed all the morning.
Who can picture the thoughts of Palmer and of knight? Could one have
looked beneath the Palmer's cowl there might have been seen a smile
almost sardonic playing upon his features. In passing Blount's horse the
pious man's thin brown hand stole from beneath the long gown and
lovingly caressed the animal, while were muttered the words, "Noble,
noble beast!"
On rode the train through the lovely country, over the smooth
greensward, and under the vaulted screen of branches.
"'A pleasant path,' Fitz-Eustace said, 'Such as where errant-knights
might see Adventures of high chivalry; Might meet some damsel flying
fast, With hair unbound, and looks aghast; And smooth and level
course were here, In her defence to break a spear."
He spoke to