No More Learning

[Illustration: HE STRUCK OUT HIS WHIP AND CUT THE PRINCE'S CHEEK. ]

"I'll learn his name for you," Geraint exclaimed, and he rode off
sharply.

But the impudent dwarf answered just as before and when Prince Geraint
moved on toward his master he struck out his whip and cut the prince's
cheek so that the blood streamed upon the purple scarf dyeing it red.
Instantly Geraint reached for the hilt of his sword to strike down the
vicious little midget but then remembering that he was a prince and
disdaining to fight with a dwarf, he did not even say a word, but
cantered back to Queen Guinevere's side.

"Noble Queen," he cried fiercely. "I am going to avenge this insult that
has been done you. I'll track these vermin to the earth. For even
although I am riding unarmed just now, as we go along I will come to
some place where I can borrow weapons or hire them. And then when I have
my man I'll fight him, and on the third day from today I'll be back
again unless I die in the fight. So good-bye, farewell. "

"Farewell, handsome prince," the queen answered. "Good fortune in your
quest and may you live to marry your first love whoever that may be. But
whether she will be a princess or a beggar from the hedgerows, before
you wed with her bring her back to me and I will robe her for her
wedding day. "

Prince Geraint bowed and with that he was off. One minute he thought he
heard the noble milk-white deer brought to bay by the dogs, the next he
thought he heard the hunter's horn far away and felt a little vexed to
think he must be following this stupid dwarf while all the others were
at the chase. But he had determined to avenge the queen and up and down
the grassy glades and valleys pursued the three enemies until at last at
sundown they emerged from the forest, climbed up on the ridge of a hill
where they looked like shadows against the dark sky, then sank again on
the other side.

Below on the other side of the ridge ran the long street of a clamoring
little town in a long valley, on one side a new white fortress and on
the other, across a ravine and a bridge, a fallen old castle in decay.
The knight, the lady and the dwarf rode on to the white fortress, then
vanished within its walls.

"There! " cried Geraint, "now I have him! I have tracked him to his hole,
and tomorrow when I'm rested I'll fight him. "

Then he turned wearily down the long street of the noisy village to look
for his night's lodging, but he found every inn and tavern crowded, and
everywhere horses in the stables were being shod and young fellows were
busy burnishing their master's armor.

"What does all this hubbub mean? " asked Geraint of one of these youths.

The lad did not stop his work one instant, but went on scouring and
replied, "It's the sparrow-hawk. "

As Prince Geraint did not know what was meant by the sparrow-hawk he
trotted a little farther along the street until he came to a quiet old
man trudging by with a sack of corn on his back.

"Why is your town so noisy and busy to-night, good old fellow? " he
cried.

"Ugh! the sparrow-hawk! " the old fellow said gruffly.

So the prince rode his horse yet a little farther until he saw an
armor-maker's shop. The armor-maker sat inside with his back turned, all
doubled over a helmet which he was riveting together upon his knee.

"Armorer," cried Geraint, "what is going on? Why is there such a din? "

The man did not pause in his riveting even to turn about and face the
stranger, but said quickly as if to finish speaking as rapidly as he
could, "Friend, the people who are working for the sparrow-hawk have no
time for idle questions. "

At this Geraint flashed up angrily.

"A fig for your sparrow-hawk! I wish all the bits of birds of the air
would peck him dead. You imagine that this little cackle in your baby
town is all the noise and murmur of the great world. What do I care
about it? It is nothing to me. Listen to me, now, if you are not gone
hawk-mad like the rest, where can I get a lodging for the night, and
more than that, where can I get some arms, arms, arms, to fight my
enemy? Tell me. "

The hurrying armor-maker looked about in amazement to see this gorgeous
cavalier in purple silks standing before his bit of a shop.

"O pardon me, stranger knight," said he very politely. "We are holding a
great tournament here tomorrow morning and there is hardly any time to
do one-half the work that has to be finished before then. Arms, did you
say? Indeed I cannot tell you where to get any; all that there are in
this town are needed for to-morrow in the lists. And as for lodging, I
don't know unless perhaps at Earl Yniol's in the old castle across the
bridge. " Then he again picked up his helmet and turned his back to the
prince.

So Geraint, still a wee mite vexed, rode over the bridge that spanned
the ravine, to go to the ruined castle. There upon the farther side sat
the hoary-headed Earl Yniol, dressed in some magnificent shabby old
clothes which had been fit for a king's parties when they were new.

"Where are you going, son? " he queried of Geraint, waking from his
reveries and dreaminess.

"O friend, I'm looking for some shelter for the night," Geraint replied.

"Come in then," Yniol said, "and accept of my hospitality. Our house was
rich once and now it is poor, but it always keeps its door open to the
stranger. "

"Oh, anything will do for me," cried Geraint. "If only you won't serve
me sparrow-hawks for my supper I'll eat with all the passion of a whole
day's fast. "

The old earl smiled and sighed as he rejoined, "I have more serious
reason than you to curse this sparrow-hawk. But go in and we will not
have a word about him even jokingly unless you wish it. "

Whereupon Geraint passed into the desolate castle court, where the
stones of the pavement were all broken and overgrown with wild plants,
and the turrets and walls were shattered. As he stood awaiting the Earl
Yniol, the voice of a young girl singing like a nightingale rang out
from one of the open castle windows.

It was the voice of Enid, Earl Yniol's daughter as she sang the song of
Fortune and her Wheel:

"Turn, Fortune, thy wheel with smile or frown,
With that wild wheel we go not up or down;
Our hoard is little, but our hearts are great. "

"The song of that little bird describes the nest she lives in," cried
Earl Yniol approaching. "Enter. "

Geraint alighted from his charger and stepped within the large dusky
cobwebbed hall, where an aged lady sat, with Enid moving about her, like
a little flower in a wilted sheath of a faded silk gown.

"Enid, the good knight's horse is standing in the court," cried the
earl. "Take him to the stall and give him some corn, then go to town and
buy us some meat and wine. "

[Illustration: GERAINT STEPPED WITHIN THE DUSKY COBWEBBED HALL. ]

Geraint wished that he might do this servant's work instead of this
pretty young lady, but as he started to follow her the old gray earl
stopped him.

"We're old and poor," he said, "but not so poor and old as to let our
guests wait upon themselves. "

So Enid fetched the wine and the meat and the cakes and the bread; and
she served at the table while her mother, father and Geraint sat around.
Geraint wished that he might stoop to kiss her tender little thumb as it
held the platter when she laid it down.

[Illustration: ENID FETCHED THE WINE AND THE MEAT AND THE CAKES. ]

"Fair host and Earl," he said after his refreshing supper, "who is this
sparrow-hawk that everybody in the town is talking about? And yet I do
not wish you to give me his name, for perhaps he is the knight I saw
riding into the new fortress the other side of the bridge at the other
end of the town. His name I am going to have from his own lips, for I
am Geraint of Devon. This morning when the queen sent her maid to find
out his name he struck at the girl with his whip, and I've sworn
vengeance for such a great insult done our queen, and have followed him
to his hold, and as soon as I can get arms I will fight him. "

"And are you the renowned Geraint? " cried Earl Yniol beaming. "Well, as
soon as I saw you coming toward me on the bridge I knew that you were no
ordinary man. By the state and presence of your bearing I might have
guessed you to be one of Arthur's Knights of the Round Table at Camelot.
Pray do not suppose that I am flattering you foolishly. This dear child
of mine has often heard me telling glorious stories of all the famous
things you have done for the king and the people. And she has asked me
to repeat them again and again.

"Poor thing, there never has lived a woman with such miserable lovers as
she has had. The first was Limours, who did nothing but drink and brawl,
even when he was making love to her. And the second was the
'sparrow-hawk,' my nephew, my curse. I will not let his name slip from
me if I can help it. When I told him that he could not marry my daughter
he spread a false rumour all round here among the people that his father
had left him a great sum of money in my keeping and that I had never
passed it over to him but had retained it for myself. He bribed all my
servants with large promises and stirred up this whole little old town
of mine against me, my own town. That was the night of Enid's birthday
nearly three years ago. They sacked my house, ousted me from my earldom,
threw us into this dilapidated, dingy old place and built up that grand
new white fort. He would kill me if he did not despise me too much to
do so; and sometimes I believe I despise myself for letting him have his
way. I scarcely know whether I am very wise or very silly, very manly or
very base to suffer it all so patiently. "

"Well said," cried Geraint eagerly. "But the arms, the arms, where can I
get arms for myself? Then if the sparrow-hawk will fight tomorrow in the
tourney I may be able to bring down his terrible pride a little. "

"I have arms," said Yniol, "although they are old and rusty, Prince
Geraint, and you would be welcome to have them for the asking. But in
this tournament of tomorrow no knight is allowed to tilt unless the lady
he loves best come there too. The forks are fastened into the meadow
ground and over them is placed a silver wand, above that a golden
sparrow-hawk, the prize of beauty for the fairest woman there. And
whoever wins in the tourney presents this to the lady-love whom he has
brought with him. Since my nephew is a man of very large bone and is
clever with his lance he has always won it for his lady. That is how he
has earned his title of sparrow-hawk. But you have no lady so you will
not be able to fight. "

Then Geraint leaned forward toward the earl.

"With your leave, noble Earl Yniol," he replied, "I will do battle for
your daughter. For although I have seen all the beauties of the day
never have I come upon anything so wonderfully lovely as she. If it
should happen that I prove victor, as true as heaven, I will make her my
wife! "

Yniol's heart danced in his bosom for joy, and he turned about for Enid,
but she had fluttered away as soon as her name had been mentioned, so
he tenderly grasped the hands of her mother in his own and said:

"Mother, young girls are shy little things and best understood by their
own mothers. Before you go to rest to night, find out what Enid will
think about this. "

So the earl's wife passed out to speak with Enid, and Enid became so
glad and excited that she could not sleep the entire happy night long.
But very early the next morning, as soon as the pale sky began to redden
with the sun she arose, then called her mother, and hand in hand,
tripped over with her to the place of the tournament. There they awaited
for Yniol and Geraint. Geraint came wearing the Earl's rusty, worn old
arms, yet in spite of them looked stately and princely.

Many other knights in blazing armor gathered there for the jousts, with
many fine ladies, and by and by the whole town full of people flooded
in, settling in a circle around the lists. Then the two forks were fixed
into the earth, above them a wand of silver was laid, and over it the
golden sparrow-hawk. The trumpet was blown and Yniol's nephew rose and
spoke:

"Come forward, my lady," he cried to the maiden who had come with him.
"Fairest of the fair, take the prize of beauty which I have won for you
during the past two years. "

"Stay! " Prince Geraint cried loudly. "There is a worthier beauty here. "

The earl's nephew looked round with surprise and disdain to see his
uncle's family and the prince.

"Do battle for it then," he shouted angrily.

Geraint sprang forward and the tourney was begun. Three times the two
warriors clashed together. _Three times they broke their spears. _ Then
both were thrown from their horses. They now drew their swords; and
with them lashed at one another so frequently and with such dreadfully
hard strokes that all the crowd wondered. Now and again from the distant
walls came the sounds of applause, like the clapping of phantom hands.
The perspiration and the blood flowed together down the strong bodies of
the combatants. Each was as sturdy as the other.

[Illustration]

"Remember the great insult done our queen! " Earl Yniol cried at last.

This so inflamed Geraint that he heaved his vast sword-blade aloft,
cracked through his enemy's helmet, bit into the bone of his head,
felled the haughty knight, and set his feet upon his breast.

"Your name! " demanded Geraint.

"Edryn, the son of Nudd," groaned the fallen warrior.

"Very well, then Edryn, the son of Nudd," returned Geraint, "you must do
these two things or else you will have to die. First, you with your lady
and your dwarf must ride to Arthur's court at Caerleon and crave their
pardon for the insult you did the queen yesterday morning, and you must
bide her decree in the punishment she awards you. Secondly, you must
give back the earldom to your uncle the Earl of Yniol. You will do these
two things or you die. "

"I will do them," cried Edryn. "For never before was I ever overcome.
But now all of my pride is broken down, for Enid has seen me fall. "

With that Edryn rose from the ground like a man, took his lady and the
dwarf on their horses to Arthur's court. There receiving the sweet
forgiveness of the queen, he became a true knight of the Round Table,
and at the last died in battle while he fought for his king.

But Geraint when the tourney was over and he had come back to the
castle, drew Enid aside to tell her that early the next morning he would
have to start for Caerleon and that she should be ready to ride away
with him to be married at the court with tremendous pomp. For that would
be three days after the King's chase, when the prince had promised Queen
Guinevere he would be back. But of that he did not speak to Enid, who
wondered why he was so bent on returning immediately, and why she could
not have time at home to prepare herself some pretty robes to wear.

Imagine, she thought, such a grand and frightful thing as a court, the
queen's court, with all the graceful ladies staring at her in that faded
old silk dress! And although she promised Geraint that she would go as
he wished, when she woke to the dread day for making her appearance at
court, she still yearned that he would only stay yet a little while so
that she could sew herself some clothes, that she had the flowered silk
which her mother had given her three years ago for her birthday and
which Edryn's men had robbed from her when they sacked the house and
scattered everything she ever owned to all the winds. How she wished
that handsome Geraint had known her then, those three years ago when she
wore so many pretty dresses and jewels!

But while she lay dreamily thinking, softly in trod her mother bearing
on her arm a gorgeous, delicate robe.

"Do you recognize it, child? " she cried.

It was that self-same birthday dress, three years old, but as beautiful
as new and never worn.

"Yesterday after the jousts your father went through all the town from
house to house and ordered that all sack and plunder which the men had
taken from us should be brought back, for he was again to be in his
earldom. So last evening while you were talking with the prince some one
came up from the town and placed this in my hands. I did not tell you
about it then for I wished to keep it as a sweet surprise for you this
morning. And it is a sweet surprise, isn't it? For although the prince
yesterday did say that you were the fairest of the fair there is no
handsome girl in the world but looks handsomer in new clothes than in
old. And it would have been a shame for you to go to the court in your
poor old faded silk which you have worn so long and so patiently. The
great ladies there might say that Prince Geraint had plucked up some
ragged robin from the hedges. "

[Illustration: BEARING A GORGEOUS ROBE. ]

So Enid was put into the fine flowered robe.

Her mother said that after she had gone to the queen's court, she, the
poor old mother at home, who was too feeble to journey so far with her
daughter, would think over and over again of her pretty princess at
Camelot. And the old gray Earl Yniol went in to tell Geraint of Enid's
fanciful apparel.

But Geraint was not delighted with the magnificence.

"Say to her," he answered the earl, "that by all my love for her,
although I give her no other reason, I entreat Enid to wear that faded
old silk dress of hers and no other. "

This amazing and hard message from Geraint made poor little Enid's face
fall like a meadowful of corn blasted by a rainstorm. Still she
willingly laid aside her gold finery for his sake, slipped into the
faded silk, and pattered down the steps to meet Geraint. He scanned her
so eagerly from her tip to her toe that both her rosy cheeks burned like
flames. Then as he noted her mother's clouded face he said very kindly:

"My new mother don't be very angry, or grieved with your new son because
of what I have just asked Enid to do. I had a very good reason for it
and I will explain it all to you. The other day when I left the queen at
Caerleon to avenge the insult done her by Edryn, the son of Nudd, she
made me two wishes. The one was that I should be successful with my
quest and the other was that I should wed with my first love. Then she
promised that whoever my bride should be she herself with her own royal
hands would dress her for her wedding day, splendidly, like the very sun
in the skies. So when I found this lovely Enid of yours in her shabby
clothes I vowed that the queen's hands only should array her in handsome
new robes that befitted her grace and beauty. But never mind, dear
mother, some day you will come to see Enid and then she will wear the
golden, flowered birthday dress which you gave her three years ago. "

Then the earl's wife smiled through her tears, wrapped Enid in a mantle,
kissed her gentle farewells, and in a moment saw her riding far, far
away beside Geraint.

The queen Guinevere that day had three times climbed the royal tower at
Caerleon to look far into the valley for some sign of Geraint, who had
promised to be back that day, if he did not fall in battle, and who
would certainly come now, since Edryn had been vanquished and had come
to the court. At last when evening had fallen she spied the prince's
charger pacing nobly along the road, and Enid's palfrey at his side.
Instantly Queen Guinevere sped down from the small window in the high
turret, tripped out to the gate to greet him and embrace the lovely Enid
as a long-loved friend.

The old City of Caerleon was gay for one whole week, over the wedding
week of Geraint and Enid. The queen herself dressed Enid for her
marriage like the very sunlight, Dubric, the highest saint of the
church, married them, and they lived for nearly a year at the court with
Arthur and sweet Guinevere.

And so the insult done the queen was avenged, and her two wishes were
fulfilled. For Geraint overcame his enemy and wedded with his
first-love, dressed for her marriage by the queen.




GERAINT'S QUEST OF HONOR.


One morning Prince Geraint went into Arthur's hall and said:

"O King, my princedom is in danger. It lies close to the territory which
is infested with bandits, earls and caitiff knights, assassins and all
sorts of outlaws. Give me your kind good leave and I will go there to
defend my lands. "

The king said the prince might go, and sent fifty armed knights to
protect him and pretty Enid as they traveled away on their horses across
the Severn River into their own country, the Land of Devon.

After Geraint had come into Devon he forgot what he had said to the king
of ridding his princedom of outlawry, he forgot the chase where he had
always been so clever in tracking his game, forgot the tournament where
he had won victory after victory, forgot all his former glory and his
name, forgot his lands and their cares, forgot everything he ever did,
and did nothing at all but lie about at home and talk with Enid. At last
all his people began to gossip about their fine prince who once had been
illustrious everywhere and now had become an idle stay-at-home who spent
his time in making love to his wife.

[Illustration: ENID HEARD OF GERAINT FROM HER HAIR-DRESSER. ]

Enid heard of the tattling about Geraint from her hair-dresser, and one
morning as he lay abed, she went over it all to herself, talking aloud.
She wished, that he would not abandon all his knightly pursuits but
would hunt and fight again and add to his lustre.
She felt very bashful
about mentioning the matter to him as she was very shy by nature and
lived in a time when wives were altogether over-ruled by their husbands,
yet to say nothing she thought would not be showing herself a true wife
to Geraint. All this and more Enid went over to herself.

The drowsy prince, half awake, just half heard her and quite
misunderstood her meaning. When she said that in keeping quiet about the
gossip she was not a true wife to him he supposed she meant that she no
longer cared for him, that he was not a handsome and strong enough man
to suit her. This grieved him deeply and made him very angry with her,
for Geraint had really given up all the glory of the king's court just
to be alone with Enid, although no one knew it. And the thought that now
she looked down upon him infuriated all his heart. A word would have
made everything right but he didn't say it.

Springing up quickly from his bed he roused his squire and said, "Get
ready our horses, my charger and the princess' palfrey. And you,"
turning a frowning face to the princess, "put on the worst looking,
meanest, poorest dress you have and come away with me. We are going on a
quest of honor and then you will see what sort of soldier I am. "

Enid wondered why her lord was so vexed with her and replied, "If I have
displeased you surely you will tell me why. "

But Geraint would not say; he could not bear to speak of it. So Enid
hurried after her poor old faded silk gown with the summer flowers among
its folds, which she had worn to ride from her old home to Caerleon, and
hastily dressed.

"Do not ride at my side," Geraint said as they both mounted their horses
to start away. "Ride ahead of me, a good way ahead of me, and no matter
what may happen, do not speak a word to me, no not a word. "

Enid listened, wondering what had come over her lord.

"There! " he cried as they were off, "we will make our way along with our
iron weapons, not with gold money. " So saying, he loosed the great purse
which dangled from his belt and tossed it back to his squire who stood
on the marble threshold of the doorway where the golden coins flashed
and clattered as they scattered every which-way over the floor. "Now
then, Enid, to the wild woods! "

At that they made for the swampy, desolated forest lands that were
famous for their perilous paths and their bandits, Enid with a white
face going before, Geraint coming gloomily nearly a quarter of a mile
after.

The morning was only half begun when the white princess became aware
that behind a rock hiding in the shadow stood three tall knights on
horseback, armed from tip to toe, bandit outlaws lying in wait to fall
upon whoever should pass. She heard one saying to his comrades as he
pointed toward Geraint:

"Look here comes some lazy-bones who seems just about as bold as a dog
who has had the worst of it in a fight. Come, we will kill him, and then
we will take his horse and armor and his lady. "

Enid thought, "I'll go back a little way to Geraint and tell him about
these ruffians, for even if it will madden him I should rather have him
kill me than to have him fall into their hands. "

She guided her palfrey backward and bravely met the frowning face which
greeted her, saying timidly:

"My lord, there are three bandit knights behind a rock a little way
beyond us who are boasting that they will slay you and steal your horse
and armor and make me their captive. "

"Did I tell you," cried Geraint angrily, "that you should warn me of any
danger. There was only one thing which I told you to do and that was to
keep quiet; and this is the way you have heeded me! a pretty way! But
win or lose, you shall see by these fellows that my vigor is not lost. "

Then Enid stood back as the three outlaws flashed out of their ambush
and bore down upon the prince.

Geraint aimed first for the middle one, driving his long spear into the
bandit's breast and out on the other side. The two others in the
meanwhile had dashed upon him with their lances, but they had broken on
his magnificent armor like so many icicles. He now turned upon them with
his broadsword, swinging it first to the right and then to the left,
first stunning them with his blows, then slaying them outright. And when
all three had fallen he dismounted, and like a hunter skinning the wild
beasts he has shot, he stripped the three robber knights of their gay
suits of armor, and leaving the bodies lie, bound each man's sword,
spear and coat of arms to his horse, tied the three bridle reins of the
three empty horses together and cried to Enid.

"Drive these on before you. "

Enid drove them on across the wastelands, Geraint following after. As
she passed into the first shallow shade of the forest she described
three more horsemen partly hidden in the gloom of three sturdy
oak-trees. All were armed and one was a veritable giant, so tall and
bulky, towering above his companions.

[Illustration: THE THREE OUTLAWS BORE DOWN UPON THE PRINCE. ]

"See there, a prize! " bellowed the giant and set Enid's pulses in a
quiver. "Three horses and three suits of armor, and all in charge
of--whom? A girl! Isn't that simple? Lay on, my men! "

"No," cried the second, "behind is coming a knight. A coward and a fool,
for see how he hangs his head. "

The giant thundered back gaily.

"Yes? Only one? Wait here and as he goes by make for him. "

"I will go no farther until Geraint comes," Enid said to herself
stopping her horse. "And then I will tell him about these villains. He
must be so weary with his other fight and they will fall upon him
unawares. I shall have to disobey him again for his own sake. How could
I dare to obey him and let him be harmed? I must speak; if he kills me
for it I shall only have lost my own life to save a life that is dearer
to me than my own. "

So she waited until the prince approached when she said with a timid
firmness, "Have I your leave to speak? "

"You take it without asking when you speak," he replied, and she
continued:

"There are three men lurking in the woods behind some oaks and one of
them is larger than you, a perfect giant. He told them to attack you as
you passed by them. "

"If there were a hundred men in the wood and each of them a giant and if
they all made for me together I vow it would not anger me so as to have
you disobey me. Stand aside while we do battle and when we are done
stand by the victor. "

At this, while Enid fell back breathing short fits of prayer but not
daring to watch, Geraint proceeded to meet his assailants. The giant was
the first to dash out for him aiming his lance at Geraint's helmet, but
the lance missed and went to one side. Geraint's spear had been a
little strained with his first encounter, but it struck through the
bulky giant's corselet and pierced his breast, then broke, one-half of
it still fast in the flesh as the giant knight fell to the earth. The
other two bandits now felt that their support and hero was gone, and
when Geraint darted rapidly on them, uttering his terrible warcry as if
there were a thousand men behind him to come to his aid, they flew into
the woods. But they were soon overtaken and pitilessly put to death.
Then Geraint, selecting the best lance, the brightest and strongest
among their spears to replace the one he had broken on the giant, he
plucked off the gaudy armor from each brigand's body, laid it on the
backs of the three horses, tied the bridle reins together and handed
them to Enid with the words, "Drive them on before you. "

So Enid now followed the wild paths of the gloomy forest with two sets
of three horses, each horse laden with his master's jingling weapons and
coat of mail. Geraint came after. As they passed out of the wood into
the open sky they came to a little town with towers upon a rocky hill,
and beneath it a wide meadowland with mowers in it, mowing the hay. Down
a stony pathway from the town skipped a fair-haired lad carrying a
basket of lunch for the laborers in the field.

"Friend! " cried Geraint, as the lad trotted past him, for he saw that
Enid looked very white, "let my lady have something to eat. She is so
faint. "

"Willingly," the youth answered, "and you too, my lord, even although
this feed is very coarse and only fit for the mowers. "

He set down his basket and Enid and Geraint alighted and put all the
horses to graze, while they sat down on the green sward to have some
bread and barley. Enid felt too faint at heart, thinking of the
prince's strange conduct, to care a great deal for food, but Geraint was
hungry enough and had all the mowers' basket emptied almost before he
knew it.

"Boy," he cried half-ashamed, "everything is gone, which is a disgrace.
But take one of my horses and his arms by way of payment, choose the
very best. "

The poor lad, who might as well have had a kingdom given him, reddened
with his extreme surprise and delight.

"My lord, you are over-paying me fifty times," he cried.

"You will be all the wealthier then," returned the prince, gaily.

"I'll take it as free gift, then," the lad answered. "The food is not
worth much. While your lady is resting here I can easily go back and
fetch more, some more for the earl's mowers. For all these mowers belong
to our great earl, and all these fields are his, and I am his, too. I'll
tell him what a fine man you are, and he will have you to his palace and
serve you with costly dinners. "

"I wish no better fare than I have had," Geraint said, "I never ate
better in my life than just now when I left your poor mowers dinnerless.
And I will go into no earl's palace. If he desires to see me, let him
come to me. Now you go hire us some pleasant room in the town, stall our
horses and when you return with the food for these men tell us about
it. "

"Yes, my kind lord," the glad youth cried, and he held his head high and
thought he was a gorgeous knight off to the wars as he disappeared up
the rocky path leading his handsome horse.

The prince turned himself sleepily to watch the lusty mowers laboring
under the sun as it blazed on their scythes, while Enid plucked the long
grass by the meadows' edge to weave it round and round her wedding
ring, until the boy returned and showed them the room he had got in the
town.

"If you wish anything, call the woman of the house," Prince Geraint said
to Enid as the door closed behind them. "Do not speak to me. "

"Yes, my lord," returned Enid, still marvelling at his cold ways.

Silently they sat down, she at one end, he at the other, as quiet as
pictures. But suddenly a mass of voices sounded up the street, and heel
after heel echoing upon the pavement. In a twinkling the door to their
room was pushed back to the wall while a mob of boisterous young
gentlemen tumbled in led by the Earl of Limours, the wild lord of the
town, and Enid's old suitor whom her father had rejected long ago, a man
as beautiful as a woman and very graceful. He seized the prince's hand
warmly, welcomed him to the town and stealthily, out of the corner of
his eye, caught a glimpse of unhappy Enid nestled all alone at the
farther end of the room.

The prince immediately sent for every sort of delicious things to eat
and drink from the town, told the earl, to bid all his friends for a
feast and soon was gaily making merry with the men, drinking, laughing,
joking.

"May I have your leave, my lord," cried Earl Limours, "to cross the room
and speak a word with your lady who seems so lonely? "

"My free leave," cried the merry Prince Geraint, who did not know the
earl, "Get her to speak with you; she has nothing to say to me. "

As Limours stepped to Enid's side he lifted his eyes adoringly, bowed at
her side and said in a whisper:

"Enid, you pilot star of my life, I see that Geraint is very unkind to
you and loves you no longer. What a laughing stock he is making of you
with that wretched old dress you have on! But I, I love you still as
always. Just say the word and I will have him put into the keep and you
will come with me. I will be kind to you forever. "

The tears fluttered into the earl's eyes as he spoke.

"Earl," replied Enid, "if you love me as you used to do in the years
long ago, and are not joking now, come in the morning and take me by
force from the prince. But leave me tonight. I am wearied to death. "

So the earl made a low bow, brandishing his plumes until they brushed
his very insteps, while the stout prince bade him a loud good night, and
he moved away talking to his men.

[Illustration: THE EARL MADE A LOW BOW. ]

But as soon as he was gone Enid began to plan how she could escape with
Geraint before Earl Limours should come after her in the morning. She
was too afraid of Geraint to speak with him about it, but when he had
fallen asleep she stepped lightly about the room and gathered the pieces
of his armor together in one place ready for an early departure on the
morrow. Then she dropped off into slumber. But suddenly she heard a loud
sound, the earl with his wild following blowing his trumpet to call her
to come out, she thought. But it was only the great red cock in the
yard below crowing at the daylight which had begun to glimmer now across
the heap of Geraint's armor. She rose immediately in her fright to see
that all was well, went over to examine the weapons and unwittingly let
the casque fall jangling to the floor. This woke Geraint, who started up
and stared at her.

"My lord," began Enid, and then she told him all that Earl Limours had
said to her and how she had put him off by telling him to come this
morning.

"Call the woman of the house and tell her to bring the charger and the
palfrey," Geraint cried angrily. "Your sweet face makes fools of good
fellows. " Geraint loved Enid still and he was in as great perplexity as
she, for after misunderstanding what she had said he no more knew
whether she cared for him truly than she knew what was troubling him and
making him act in this unaccountable manner.

Enid slipped through the sleeping household like a ghost to deliver the
prince's message to the landlord, hurried back to help Geraint with his
armor and came down with him to spring upon her palfrey.

"What do I owe you, friends? " the prince asked his host, but before the
man could reply he added "take those five horses and their burdens of
arms. "

"My lord, I have scarcely spent the price of one of them on you! " cried
the landlord astonished.

"You'll have all the more riches then," the prince laughed, then turning
to Enid, "today I charge you more particularly than ever before that
whatever you may see, hear, fancy or imagine, do not speak to me, but
obey. "

"Yes, my lord," answered Enid, "I know your wish and should like to
obey, but when I go riding ahead, I hear all the violent threats you do
not hear and see the danger you cannot see, and then not to give you
warning seems hard, almost beyond me. Yet, I wish to obey you. "

"Do so, then," said he. "Do not be too wise, seeing that you are
married, not to a clown but a strong man with arms to guard his own head
and yours, too. "

The broad beaten path which they now took passed through toward the
wasted lands bordering on the castle of Earl Doorm, the Bull, as his
people called him, because of his ferocity.

It was still early morning when Enid caught the sound of quantities of
hoofs galloping up the road. Turning round she saw cloudsful of dust and
the points of lances sparkling in it. Then, not to disobey the prince,
yet to give him warning, she held up her finger and pointed toward the
dust. Geraint was pleased at her cunning, and immediately stopped his
horse. The moment after, the Earl of Limours dashed in upon him on a
charger as black and as stormy as a thunder-cloud.

Geraint closed with the earl, bore down on him with his spear, and in a
minute brought him stunned or dead to the ground. Then he turned to the
next-comer after Limours, overthrew him and blindly rushed back upon all
the men behind. But they were so startled at the flash and movement of
the prince that they scrambled away in a panic, leaving their leader
lying on the public highway. The horses also of the fallen warriors
whisked off from their wounded masters and wildly flew away to mix with
the vanishing mob.

"Horse and man, all of one mind," remarked Geraint, smiling, "not a hoof
of them left. What do you say, Enid, shall we strip the earl and pay for
a dinner or shall we fast? Fast? Then go on and let us pray heaven to
send us some Earl of Doorm's men so that we can earn ourselves something
to eat. "

Enid sadly eyed her bridle-reins and led the way, Geraint coming after,
scarcely knowing that he had been pricked by Limours in his side, and
that he was bleeding secretly beneath his armor. But at last his head
and helmet began to wag unsteadily, and at a sudden swerving of the road
he was tossed from his horse upon a bank of grass. Enid heard the
clashing of the fall, and too terrified to cry out, came back all pale.
Then she dismounted, loosed the fastenings of his armor and bound up his
wounds with her veil. Then she sat down desolately and began to cry,
wondering what ever she should do.

[Illustration: ENID SAT DOWN DESOLATELY AND BEGAN TO CRY. ]

Many men passed by but no one took any notice of her. For in that
lawless, turbulent earldom no one minded a woman weeping for a murdered
lover than they now mind a summer shower. One man scurrying as fast as
ever he could travel toward the bandit earl's castle, drove the sand
sweeping into her poor eyes, and another coming in the opposite
direction from out the earl's castle park in seeming hot haste, turned
all the long dusty road into a column of smoke behind him, and
frightened her little palfrey so that it scoured off into the coppices
and was lost. But the prince's charger stood beside them and grieved
over the mishap like a man.

At noon a huge warrior with a big face and russet beard and eyes rolling
about in search of prey, came riding hard by with a hundred spearmen at
his back all bound for some foray. It was the frightful Earl Doorm.

"What, is he dead? " cried the earl loudly to Enid, as he spied her on
the wayside.

"No, no, not dead," she quickly answered. "Would some of your kind
people take him up and bear him off somewhere out of this cruel sun? I
am very sure, quite sure that he is not dead. "

"Well, if he isn't dead, why should you cry for him so? Dead or not
dead, you just spoil your pretty face with idiotic tears. They will not
help him. But since it is a pretty face, come fellows, some of you, and
take him to our hall. If he lives he will be one of our band, and if
not, why there is earth enough to bury him in. See that you take his
charger, too, a noble one. "

And so saying, the rude earl passed on, while two brawny horsemen came
forward growling to think they might lose their chance of booty from the
morning's raid all for this dead man. They raised the prince upon a
litter, laying him in the hollow of his shield, and brought him into
the barren hall of Doorm, while Enid and the gentle charger followed
after. They tossed him and his litter down on an oaken settle in the
hall, and then shot away for the woods.

Enid sat through long hours all alone with Geraint besides the oaken
settle, propping his head and chafing his hands, but in the late
afternoon she saw the huge Earl Doorm returning with his lusty spearmen
and their plunder. Each hurled down a heap of spoils on the floor, threw
aside his lance and doffed his helmet, while a tribe of brightly gowned
gentle-women fluttered into the hall and began to talk with them. Earl
Doorm struck his knife against the table and bellowed for meat, and
wine. In a moment the place fairly steamed and smoked with whole roast
hogs and oxen, and everybody sat down in a hodge-podge and ate like
cattle feeding in their stalls, while Enid shrank far back startled,
into her nook.

But suddenly, when Earl Doorm had eaten all he would, and all he could
for the moment, he revolved his eyes about the bare hall and caught a
glimpse of the fair little lady drooping in her niche. Then he
recollected how she had crouched weeping by the roadside for her fallen
lord that morning. A wild pity filled his gruff heart.

"Eat, eat! " he shouted. "I never before saw any thing so pale. Be
yourself. Isn't your lord lucky, for were I dead who is there in all the
world who would mourn for me? Sweet lady, never have I ever seen a lily
like you. If there were a bit of color living in your cheeks there is
not one among my gentle-women here who would be fit to wear your
slippers for gloves. But listen to me and you will share my earldom with
me, girl, and we will live like two birds in a nest and I will bring you
all sorts of finery from every part of the world to make you happy. "

As the earl spoke his two cheeks bulged with the two tremendous morsels
of meat which he had tucked into his mouth.

Enid was more alarmed than ever.

"How can I be happy over anything," replied she, "until my lord is well
again? "

The earl laughed, then plucked her up out of the corner, carried her
over to the table, thrust a dish of food before her and held a horn of
wine to her lips.

"By all heaven," cried Enid, "I will not drink until my lord gets up and
drinks and eats with me. And if he will not rise again I will not drink
any wine until I die. "

At this the earl turned perfectly red and paced up and down the hall,
gnawing first his upper and then his lower lip.

"Girl," shouted he, "why wail over a man who shames your beauty so, by
dressing it in that rag? Put off those beggar-woman's weeds and robe
yourself in this which my gentle-woman has brought you.