Long Will Page 3

  II

  The Hills

  There are four chief hills of the Malverns: a round hill, a high hill,a long hill, and a green deep-furrowed stronghold whither thedesperate Britons withdrew them once on a time, shrinking within thegreedy clutch of Rome. And here they beaconed the warning to theirfellows in the plain; and here they fought the losing battle, andhere, in the grassy upward-circling trenches, they laid them down tosleep their last sleep.

  But of these and their well-nigh forgotten defeat the dreamer reckedlittle as he lay on the sun-warmed slope of the Round Hill. He lookedinward, as dreamers will; and onward, as dreamers should; butbackward, not yet. The past was a bit of yellow parchment at thebottom of an oak chest in the scriptorium of Malvern Priory. Thedreamer had touched it reverently, as one touches a dead thing, andlaid it away again. And Brother Owyn, looking on, had sighed. He toohad his dreams, but they came out of the joy and the sorrow that layat his back. Brother Owyn had chosen to live as one dead, but he couldnot slay his past.

  "I will sing of life that is, and is to come. I will prophesy!" saidthe dreamer to Brother Owyn; and he went forth on the hills to waitfor the Still Small Voice. But a little child came upon him andconvicted him of his youth; and he was left on the hillside troubled,discomfited, uncertain.

  So, presently, he arose and skirted the slope to the flat saddle, andset his face toward the summit of the Great Hill, and climbed upthither with the long steady stride of one who knows the groundbeneath his feet. Straight up he went, a smooth green way for the mostpart, with bare bones of rock breaking through here and there. He hadhis world before him at the top, his little world of hill and riverand plain, all misty dim about the edges, or where the edges must havebeen, all blue with the haze, and something like the sea. Close underthe hill the brown church of the Priory stood up proudly, out of themidst of its lesser halls, its kitchen and guesten house. And allround and about the King's Forest billowed away into the mist, eastand south. Neglected tillage, here and there a farm cut out ofwoodland, bubbled up on little low near hills to westward; and in thenorth,--its roof a sun-glance and its tower a shadow,--the cathedralof Worcester rose, very far, very faint behind the veil of Malvernmist,--and yet, a wonder in the plain.

  The dreamer looked to east and west and north, and down the ridge ofthe little range to the south; and then, because it was given him toknow that he should go away and leave all this, and mayhap never lookon it again, he lay down with his face in the short grass, shuttingout all; and so was silent a long while.

  The wind blew strong from the northeast, lifting his heavy hair; thePriory bell rang eleven; and the dreamer arose and went onward alongthe ridge, Hereford way. He did not cease to speak in a low broodingvoice as he strode, for that was his solitary hill-fashion; and ifever he was at pause in the way he cast out his arms to right and toleft, or clasped them on his breast; or he would lift up his youngtroubled face to the sky.

  "O my lady, Saint Truth," he murmured, "I am not afraid,--but ofmyself only." And he went more slow, sinking his head on his breast.

  "There be two kind of poets: and one dwelleth in monastery and makethlong tales of saints, or it may be he furbisheth old matter ofhistory. But this is not my place. And another sort abideth in aking's palace; he is a jongleur, and deviseth merry tales of love, andadventure of war, to please the ladies in hall. But I am not of theseneither."

  Then after a little space the dreamer flung out his right hand andspoke aloud with a great passion, saying:--

  "The people are dead of the pestilence, and they that live will die,for they starve and the lord of the manor refuseth them bread. But howshall one man drive three ploughs? His wife hungers and his sons areborn dead. Who shall help him?"

  And hereupon he smiled, but a sound as of tears was in his voice,and--

  "Lo! here is matter for a new song!" cried he; "Shall I sing it, DameTruth,--shall I sing it? Yea, the little lad spake well. For my soul'shealth I will."

  He drew his arm across his eyes, as who should clear away a mist. "Nowlead me down into the valley, O Truth, where the world dwelleth! Iwill follow. I will come down from the hill-top. Men shall be morethan a name for me before I am done. A child hath found me out."

  He had gone over upon the west side of the ridge a little way, andbetween him and the pearl-tinged rampart of the Welsh mountains weremany little hills and cup-like valleys; and in a valley of these asingle ploughman ploughed. And the midday sun was hot.

  The dreamer drew in his breath a long way, a-gazing; but then helifted an arm straight out and pointed with his finger. "Yon 's aman," he said, "no name only, but a very man; my bloody brother. Nowanswer for me, Peter, that I do know thee, body and soul. Have I notdwelled with thee? Did I not cover up thy face when thou wert dead?Oh, here 's a very simple and true piece of God's handicraft I 'vewatched in the making. Little lad, an I chose to sing o' the ploughmanthou 'lt never say puppet! An' I chose--An' I chose?--A-ah! Here 's nochoosing! I see! I see!"

  And anon, in the glory of that vision, he forgot himself, and criedout: "Lord, send a great singer to sing this song!"

  He stood with both his arms flung up to heaven, and his head wentbackward as at that other time when he had watched the lark. Thebrightness of the noonday sky, and something inward, made his face toshine. So, for a moment, he rested, and then plunged upward, forward,on the ridge again, swiftly, with a flying motion in his skirts. Butfor the rest of that day, until the hour came when he kneeled down topray, his lips were sealed; only his wide, unwavering eyes spake thevision.

  The sky thickened toward afternoon, and the dreamer, wandering in thevalley to the southwest of the Long Hill, had got beyond the sound ofthe Priory bell. In the wood where he lay the ground was blue withhyacinths; the cuckoo called, and called, and called again; and thethrush quavered. When he came out into the open the sun hung low inthe west, a dull red ball, mist-swathed; and presently it was snuffedout and the dreamer was circling up and up in the green trenches ofthe British camp. Night, and a struggling, cloud-baffled moon foundhim at the summit, on his knees, facing east; and now he prayed veryearnestly.

  "Lord Jesus, Prince of poor men, let me be thy jongleur, for all poormen's sake! With their misfortune am I right well acquaint. I havedwelled in their cots. I have eat of their hard bread of pease. Howshall the king know this, that sleepeth within silken curtains? Butkings give ear to a poet; ladies weep over a sad tale in hall. Whoshall sing this song if not I? Lord, I will go forth and learn a wayto set these matters straight. I will sing this in my song: how tolive well, so that poor men be not so cast down, as now they are.Sweet Jesu, I will not cease to sing this one song. I will tell mytale, and the king shall find a way to succour his poor men. Now glorybe to God, and praise and thanksgiving, that He hath given me avision. For my brother's sake I sing; he is dumb; he is so fast inprison that he cannot get forth; but I will sing beneath his window,and the Lord shall show him a way. The poor man shall kiss the kingand eat at his high table. Thanks be to God, and glory and praise! OJesu, God the Word, make my whisper a mighty voice! Bless me, Lord;bless thy singer!"

  And now the dreamer crossed himself and went down over the edge andlay in a trench, sleeping and waking the night through.