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  Chapter Three: The Knighting of the Brethren

  Another month had gone by, and though Godwin was still somewhatweak and suffered from a headache at times, the brethren hadrecovered from their wounds. On the last day of November, abouttwo o'clock in the afternoon, a great procession might have beenseen wending its way from the old Hall at Steeple. In it rodemany knights fully armed, before whom were borne their banners.These went first. Then came old Sir Andrew D'Arcy, also fullyarmed, attended by squires and retainers. He was accompanied byhis lovely daughter, the lady Rosamund, clad in beautiful apparelunder her cloak of fur, who rode at his right hand on that samehorse which had swum Death Creek. Next appeared the brethren,modestly arrayed as simple gentlemen, followed each of them byhis squire, scions of the noble houses of Salcote and of Dengie.After them rode yet more knights, squires, tenants of variousdegree, and servants, surrounded by a great number of peasantryand villeins, who walked and ran with their women folk andchildren.

  Following the road through the village, the procession turned tothe left at the great arch which marked the boundary of themonk's lands, and headed for Stangate Abbey, some two milesaway, by the path that ran between the arable land and the Saltmarshes, which are flooded at high tide. At length they came tothe stone gate of the Abbey, that gave the place its name ofStangate. Here they were met by a company of the Cluniac monks,who dwelt in this wild and lonely spot upon the water's edge,headed by their prior, John Fitz Brien. He was a venerable,white-haired man, clad in wide-sleeved, black robes, and precededby a priest carrying a silver cross. Now the processionseparated, Godwin and Wulf, with certain of the knights and theiresquires, being led to the Priory, while the main body of itentered the church, or stood about outside its door.

  Arrived in the house, the two knights elect were taken to a roomwhere their hair was cut and their chins were shaved by a barberwho awaited them. Then, under the guidance of two old knightsnamed Sir Anthony de Mandeville and Sir Roger de Merci, they wereconducted to baths surrounded with rich cloths. Into these,having been undressed by the squires, they entered and bathedthemselves, while Sir Anthony and Sir Roger spoke to them throughthe cloths of the high duties of their vocation, ending bypouring water over them, and signing their bare bodies with thesign of the Cross. Next they were dressed again, and preceded byminstrels, led to the church, at the porch of which they andtheir esquires were given wine to drink.

  Here, in the presence of all the company, they were clothed firstin white tunics, to signify the whiteness of their hearts; nextin red robes, symbolical of the blood they might be called uponto shed for Christ; and lastly, in long black cloaks, emblems ofthe death that must be endured by all. This done, their armourwas brought in and piled before them upon the steps of the altar,and the congregation departed homeward, leaving them with theiresquires and the priest to spend the long winter night in orisonsand prayers.

  Long, indeed, it was, in that lonesome, holy place, lit only by alamp which swung before the altar. Wulf prayed and prayed untilhe could pray no more, then fell into a half dreamful state thatwas haunted by the face of Rosamund, where even her face shouldhave been forgotten. Godwin, his elbow resting against the tombthat hid his father's heart, prayed also, until even hisearnestness was outworn, and he began to wonder about manythings.

  That dream of his, for instance, in his sickness, when he hadseemed to be dead, and what might be the true duty of man. To bebrave and upright? Surely. To fight for the Cross of Christagainst the Saracen? Surely, if the chance came his way. Whatmore? To abandon the world and to spend his life mutteringprayers like those priests in the darkness behind him? Could thatbe needful or of service to God or man? To man, perhaps, becausesuch folk tended the sick and fed the poor. But to God? Was henot sent into the world to bear his part in the world--to livehis full life? This would mean a half-life--one into which nowoman might enter, to which no child might be added, since tomonks and even to certain brotherhoods, all these things, whichNature decreed and Heaven had sanctified, were deadly sin.

  It would mean, for instance, that he must think no more ofRosamund. Could he do this for the sake of the welfare of hissoul in some future state?

  Why, at the thought of it even, in that solemn place and hour ofdedication, his spirit reeled, for then and there for the firsttime it was borne in upon him that he loved this woman more thanall the world beside--more than his life, more, perhaps, than hissoul. He loved her with all his pure young heart--so much that itwould be a joy to him to die for her, not only in the heat ofbattle, as lately had almost chanced on the Death Creek quay, butin cold blood, of set purpose, if there came need. He loved herwith body and with spirit, and, after God, here to her heconsecrated his body and his spirit. But what value would she putupon the gift? What if some other man--?

  By his side, his elbows resting on the altar rails, his eyesfixed upon the beaming armour that he would wear in battle, kneltWulf, his brother--a mighty man, a knight of knights, fearless,noble, open-hearted; such a one as any woman might well love. Andhe also loved Rosamund. Of this Godwin was sure. And, oh! did notRosamund love Wulf? Bitter jealousy seized upon his vitals. Yes;even then and there, black envy got hold of Godwin, and rent himso sore that, cold as was the place, the sweat poured from hisbrow and body.

  Should he abandon hope? Should he fly the battle for fear that hemight be defeated? Nay; he would fight on in all honesty andhonour, and if he were overcome, would meet his fate as a braveknight should--without bitterness, but without shame. Let destinydirect the matter. It was in the hands of destiny, and stretchingout his arm, he threw it around the neck of his brother, whoknelt beside him, and let it rest there, until the head of theweary Wulf sank sleepily upon his shoulder, like the head of aninfant upon its mother's breast.

  "Oh Jesu," Godwin moaned in his poor heart, "give me strength tofight against this sinful passion that would lead me to hate thebrother whom I love. Oh Jesu, give me strength to bear it if heshould be preferred before me. Make me a perfect knight--strongto suffer and endure, and, if need be, to rejoice even in thejoy of my supplanter."

  At length the grey dawn broke, and the sunlight, passing throughthe eastern window, like a golden spear, pierced the dusk of thelong church, which was built to the shape of a cross, so thatonly its transepts remained in shadow. Then came a sound ofchanting, and at the western door entered the Prior, wearing allhis robes, attended by the monks and acolytes, who swung censers.In the centre of the nave he halted and passed to theconfessional, calling on Godwin to follow. So he went and kneltbefore the holy man, and there poured out all his heart. Heconfessed his sins. They were but few. He told him of the visionof his sickness, on which the Prior pondered long; of his deeplove, his hopes, his fears, and his desire to be a warrior whoonce, as a lad, had wished to be a monk, not that he might shedblood, but to fight for the Cross of Christ against the Paynim,ending with a cry of--

  "Give me counsel, O my father. Give me counsel."

  "Your own heart is your best counsellor," was the priest'sanswer. "Go as it guides you, knowing that, through it, it is Godwho guides. Nor fear that you will fail. But if love and the joysof life should leave you, then come back, and we will talk again.Go on, pure knight of Christ, fearing nothing and sure of thereward, and take with you the blessing of Christ and of hisChurch."

  "What penance must I bear, father?"

  "Such souls as yours inflict their own penance. The saints forbidthat I should add to it," was the gentle answer.

  Then with a lightened heart Godwin returned to the altar rails,while his brother Wulf was summoned to take his place in theconfessional. Of the sins that he had to tell we need not speak.They were such as are common to young men, and none of them verygrievous. Still, before he gave him absolution, the good Prioradmonished him to think less of his body and more of his spirit;less of the glory of feats of arms and more of the true ends towhich he should enter on them. He bade him, moreover, to take hisbrother Godwin as an earthly guide and example, since there livedno better or w
iser man of his years, and finally dismissed him,prophesying that if he would heed these counsels, he would cometo great glory on earth and in heaven.

  "Father, I will do my best," answered Wulf humbly; "but therecannot be two Godwins; and, father, sometimes I fear me that ourpaths will cross, since two men cannot win one woman."

  "I know the trouble," answered the Prior anxiously, "and withless noble-natured men it might be grave. But if it should cometo this, then must the lady judge according to the wishes of herown heart, and he who loses her must be loyal in sorrow as injoy. Be sure that you take no base advantage of your brother inthe hour of temptation, and bear him no bitterness should he winthe bride."

  "I think I can be sure of that," said Wulf; "also that we, whohave loved each other from birth, would die before we betrayedeach other."

  "I think so also," answered the Prior; "but Satan is verystrong."

  Then Wulf also returned to the altar rails, and the full Mass wassung, and the Sacrament received by the two neophytes, and theofferings made all in their appointed order. Next they were ledback to the Priory to rest and eat a little after their longnight's vigil in the cold church, and here they abode awhile,thinking their own thoughts, seated alone in the Prior's chamber.At length Wulf, who seemed to be ill at ease, rose and laid hishand upon his brother's shoulder, saying:

  "I can be silent no more; it was ever thus: that which is in mymind must out of it. I have words to say to you."

  "Speak on, Wulf," said Godwin.

  Wulf sat himself down again upon his stool, and for a whilestared hard at nothing, for he did not seem to find it easy tobegin this talk. Now Godwin could read his brother's mind like abook, but Wulf could not always read Godwin's, although, beingtwins who had been together from birth, their hearts were for themost part open to each other without the need of words.

  "It is of our cousin Rosamund, is it not?" asked Godwinpresently.

  "Ay. Who else?"

  "And you would tell me that you love her, and that now you are aknight--almost--and hard on five-and twenty years of age, youwould ask her to become your affianced wife?"

  "Yes, Godwin; it came into my heart when she rode the grey horseinto the water, there upon the pier, and I thought that I shouldnever see her any more. I tell you it came into my heart thatlife was not worth living nor death worth dying without her."

  "Then, Wulf," answered Godwin slowly, "what more is there to say?Ask on, and prosper. Why not? We have some lands, if not many,and Rosamund will not lack for them. Nor do I think that ouruncle would forbid you, if she wills it, seeing that you are theproperest man and the bravest in all this country side."

  "Except my brother Godwin, who is all these things, and good andlearned to boot, which I am not," replied Wulf musingly. Thenthere was silence for a while, which he broke.

  "Godwin, our ill-luck is that you love her also, and that youthought the same thoughts which I did yonder on the quay-head."

  Godwin flushed a little, and his long fingers tightened theirgrip upon his knee.

  "It is so," he said quietly. "To my grief it is so. But Rosamundknows nothing of this, and should never know it if you will keepa watch upon your tongue. Moreover, you need not be jealous ofme, before marriage or after."

  "What, then, would you have me do?" asked Wulf hotly. "Seek herheart, and perchance--though this I doubt--let her yield it tome, she thinking that you care naught for her?"

  "Why not?" asked Godwin again, with a sigh; "it might save hersome pain and you some doubt, and make my own path clearer.Marriage is more to you than to me, Wulf, who think sometimesthat my sword should be my spouse and duty my only aim."

  "Who think, having a heart of gold, that even in such a thing asthis you will not bar the path of the brother whom you love. Nay,Godwin, as I am a sinful man, and as I desire her above allthings on earth, I will play no such coward's game, nor conquerone who will not lift his sword lest he should hurt me. Soonerwould I bid you all farewell, and go to seek fortune or death inthe wars without word spoken."

  "Leaving Rosamund to pine, perchance. Oh, could we be sure thatshe had no mind toward either of us, that would be best--tobegone together. But, Wulf, we cannot be sure, since at times, tobe honest, I have thought she loves you."

  "And at times, to be honest, Godwin, I have been sure that sheloves you, although I should like to try my luck and hear it fromher lips, which on such terms I will not do."

  "What, then, is your plan, Wulf?"

  "My plan is that if our uncle gives us leave, we should bothspeak to her--you first, as the elder, setting out your case asbest you can, and asking her to think of it and give you youranswer within a day. Then, before that day is done I also shouldspeak, so that she may know all the story, and play her part init with opened eyes, not deeming, as otherwise she might, that weknow each other's minds, and that you ask because I have no willthat way."

  "It is very fair," replied Godwin; "and worthy of you, who are themost honest of men. Yet, Wulf, I am troubled. See you, mybrother, have ever brethren loved each other as we do? And nowmust the shadow of a woman fall upon and blight that love whichis so fair and precious?"

  "Why so?" asked Wulf. "Come, Godwin, let us make a pact that itshall not be thus, and keep it by the help of heaven. Let us showthe world that two men can love one woman and still love eachother, not knowing as yet which of them she will choose--if,indeed, she chooses either. For, Godwin, we are not the onlygentlemen whose eyes have turned, or yet may turn, towards thehigh-born, rich, and lovely lady Rosamund. Is it your will thatwe should make such a pact?"

  Godwin thought a little, then answered:

  "Yes; but if so, it must be one so strong that for her sake andfor both our sakes we cannot break it and live with honour."

  "So be it," said Wulf; "this is man's work, not child'smake-believe."

  Then Godwin rose, and going to the door, bade his squire, whowatched without, pray the Prior John to come to them as theysought his counsel in a matter. So he came, and, standing beforehim with downcast head, Godwin told him all the tale, which,indeed, he who knew so much already, was quick to understand, andof their purpose also; while at a question from the prior, Wulfanswered that it was well and truly said, nothing having beenkept back. Then they asked him if it was lawful that they shouldtake such an oath, to which he replied that he thought it notonly lawful, but very good.

  So in the end, kneeling together hand in hand before the Rood thatstood in the chamber, they repeated this oath after him, both ofthem together.

  "We brethren, Godwin and Wulf D'Arcy, do swear by the holy Crossof Christ, and by the patron saint of this place, St. MaryMagdalene, and our own patron saints, St. Peter and St. Chad,standing in the presence of God, of our guardian angels, and ofyou, John, that being both of us enamoured of our cousin,Rosamund D'Arcy, we will ask her to wife in the manner we haveagreed, and no other. That we will abide by her decision, shouldshe choose either of us, nor seek to alter it by tempting herfrom her troth, or in any fashion overt or covert. That he of uswhom she refuses will thenceforth be a brother to her and nomore, however Satan may tempt his heart otherwise. That so far asmay be possible to us, who are but sinful men, we will sufferneither bitterness nor jealousy to come between our love becauseof this woman, and that in war or peace we will remain faithfulcomrades and brethren. Thus we swear with a true heart andpurpose, and in token thereof, knowing that he who breaks thisoath will be a knight dishonoured and a vessel fit for the wrathof God, we kiss this Rood and one another."

  This, then, these brethren said and did, and with light minds andjoyful faces received the blessing of the Prior, who hadchristened them in infancy, and went down to meet the greatcompany that had ridden forth to lead them back to Steeple, wheretheir knighting should be done.

  So to Steeple, preceded by the squires, who rode before thembareheaded, carrying their swords by the scabbarded points, withtheir gold spurs hanging from the hilts, they came at last. Herethe hall was set for a great feast, a space having been le
ftbetween the tables and the dais, to which the brethren wereconducted. Then came forward Sir Anthony de Mandeville and SirRoger de Merci in full armour, and presented to Sir Andrew D'Arcy,their uncle, who stood upon the edge of the dais, also in hisarmour, their swords and spurs, of which he gave back to them twoof the latter, bidding them affix these upon the candidates' rightheels. This done, the Prior John blessed the swords, after whichSir Andrew girded them about the waists of his nephews, saying:

  "Take ye back the swords that you have used so well."

  Next, he drew his own silver-hilted blade that had been hisfather's and his grandfather's, and whilst they knelt beforehim, smote each of them three blows upon the right shoulder,crying with a loud voice: "In the name of God, St. Michael, andSt. George, I knight ye. Be ye good knights."

  Thereafter came forward Rosamund as their nearest kinswoman, and,helped by other ladies, clad upon them their hauberks, or coatsof mail, their helms of steel, and their kite-shaped shields,emblazoned with a skull, the cognizance of their race. This done,with the musicians marching before them, they walked to Steeplechurch--a distance of two hundred paces from the Hall, where theylaid their swords upon the altar and took them up again, swearingto be good servants of Christ and defenders of the Church. Asthey left its doors, who should meet them but the cook, carryinghis chopper in his hand and claiming as his fee the value of thespurs they wore, crying aloud at the same time:

  "If either of you young knights should do aught in despite ofyour honour and of the oaths that you have sworn--from which mayGod and his saints prevent you!--then with my chopper will I hackthese spurs from off your heels."

  Thus at last the long ceremony was ended, and after it came avery great feast, for at the high table were entertained manynoble knights and ladies, and below, in the hall their squires,and other gentlemen, and outside all the yeomanry and villagers,whilst the children and the aged had food and drink given to themin the nave of the church itself. When the eating at length wasdone, the centre of the hall was cleared, and while men drank,the minstrels made music. All were very merry with wine andstrong ale, and talk arose among them as to which of thesebrethren--Sir Godwin or Sir Wulf--was the more brave, the morehandsome, and the more learned and courteous.

  Now a knight--it was Sir Surin de Salcote--seeing that theargument grew hot and might lead to blows, rose and declared thatthis should be decided by beauty alone, and that none could bemore fitted to judge than the fair lady whom the two of them hadsaved from woman-thieves at the Death Creek quay. They allcalled, "Ay, let her settle it," and it was agreed that she wouldgive the kerchief from her neck to the bravest, a beaker of wineto the handsomest, and a Book of Hours to the most learned.

  So, seeing no help for it, since except her father, thebrethren, the most of the other ladies and herself, who drank butwater, gentle and simple alike, had begun to grow heated withwine, and were very urgent, Rosamund took the silk kerchief fromher neck. Then coming to the edge of the dais, where they wereseated in the sight of all, she stood before her cousins, notknowing, poor maid, to which of them she should offer it. ButGodwin whispered a word to Wulf, and both of them stretching outtheir right hands, snatched an end of the kerchief which she heldtowards them, and rending it, twisted the severed halves roundtheir sword hilts. The company laughed at their wit, and cried:

  "The wine for the more handsome. They cannot serve that thus."

  Rosamund thought a moment; then she lifted a great silverbeaker, the largest on the board, and having filled it full ofwine, once more came forward and held it before them as thoughpondering. Thereon the brethren, as though by a single movement,bent forward and each of them touched the beaker with his lips.Again a great laugh went up, and even Rosamund smiled.

  "The book! the book!" cried the guests. "They dare not rend theholy book!"

  So for the third time Rosamund advanced, bearing the missal.

  "Knights," she said, "you have torn my kerchief and drunk my wine.Now I offer this hallowed writing--to him who can read it best."

  "Give it to Godwin," said Wulf. "I am a swordsman, not a clerk."

  "Well said! well said!" roared the company. "The sword forus--not the pen!" But Rosamund turned on them and answered:

  "He who wields sword is brave, and he who wields pen is wise, butbetter is he who can handle both sword and pen--like my cousinGodwin, the brave and learned."

  "Hear her! hear her!" cried the revellers, knocking their hornsupon the board, while in the silence that followed a woman'svoice said, "Sir Godwin's luck is great, but give me Sir Wulf'sstrong arms."

  Then the drinking began again, and Rosamund and the ladiesslipped away, as well they might--for the times were rough andcoarse.

  On the morrow, after most of the guests were gone, many of themwith aching heads, Godwin and Wulf sought their uncle, SirAndrew, in the solar where he sat alone, for they knew Rosamundhad walked to the church hard by with two of the serving women tomake it ready for the Friday's mass, after the feast of thepeasants that had been held in the nave. Coming to his oakenchair by the open hearth which had a chimney to it--no commonthing in those days--they knelt before him.

  "What is it now, my nephews?" asked the old man, smiling. "Do youwish that I should knight you afresh?"

  "No, sir," answered Godwin; "we seek a greater boon."

  "Then you seek in vain, for there is none."

  "Another sort of boon," broke in Wulf.

  Sir Andrew pulled his beard, and looked at them. Perhaps thePrior John had spoken a word to him, and he guessed what wascoming.

  "Speak," he said to Godwin. "The gift is great that I would notgive to either of you if it be within my power."

  "Sir," said Godwin, "we seek the leave to ask your daughter'shand in marriage."

  "What! the two of you?"

  "Yes, sir; the two of us."

  Then Sir Andrew, who seldom laughed, laughed outright.

  "Truly," he said, "of all the strange things I have known, thisis the strangest--that two knights should ask one wife betweenthem."

  "It seems strange, sir; but when you have heard our tale you willunderstand."

  So he listened while they told him all that had passed betweenthem and of the solemn oath which they had sworn.

  "Noble in this as in other things," commented Sir Andrew whenthey had done; "but I fear that one of you may find that vow hardto keep. By all the saints, nephews, you were right when you saidthat you asked a great boon. Do you know, although I have toldyou nothing of it, that, not to speak of the knave Lozelle,already two of the greatest men in this land have sought mydaughter Rosamund in marriage?"

  "It may well be so," said Wulf.

  "It is so, and now I will tell you why one or other of the pairis not her husband, which in some ways I would he were. A simplereason. I asked her, and she had no mind to either, and as hermother married where her heart was, so I have sworn that thedaughter should do, or not at all--for better a nunnery than aloveless bridal.

  "Now let us see what you have to give. You are of goodblood--that of Uluin by your mother, and mine, also on one sideher own. As squires to your sponsors of yesterday, the knightsSir Anthony de Mandeville and Sir Roger de Merci, you boreyourselves bravely in the Scottish War; indeed, your liege kingHenry remembered it, and that is why he granted my prayer soreadily. Since then, although you loved the life little, becauseI asked it of you, you have rested here at home with me, and doneno feats of arms, save that great one of two months gone whichmade you knights, and, in truth, gives you some claim onRosamund.

  "For the rest, your father being the younger son, your lands aresmall, and you have no other gear. Outside the borders of thisshire you are unknown men, with all your deeds to do--for I willnot count those Scottish battles when you were but boys. And shewhom you ask is one of the fairest and noblest and most learnedladies in this land, for I, who have some skill in such things,have taught her myself from childhood. Moreover, as I have noother heir, she will be wealthy. Well, what more have you tooffer f
or all this?"

  "Ourselves," answered Wulf boldly. "We are true knights of whomyou know the best and worst, and we love her. We learned it foronce and for all on Death Creek quay, for till then she was oursister and no more."

  "Ay," added Godwin, "when she swore herself to us and blessed us,then light broke on both."

  "Stand up," said Sir Andrew, "and let me look at you."

  So they stood side by side in the full light of the blazing fire,for little other came through those narrow windows.

  "Proper men; proper men," said the old knight; "and as like to oneanother as two grains of wheat from the same sample. Six feethigh, each of you, and broad chested, though Wulf is larger madeand the stronger of the two. Brown and waving-haired both, savefor that line of white where the sword hit yours, Godwin--Godwinwith grey eyes that dream and Wulf with the blue eyes that shinelike swords. Ah! your grandsire had eyes like that, Wulf; and Ihave been told that when he leapt from the tower to the wall atthe taking of Jerusalem, the Saracens did not love the lightwhich shone in them--nor, in faith, did I, his son, when he wasangry. Proper men, the pair of you; but Sir Wulf mostwarriorlike, and Sir Godwin most courtly."

  "Now which do you think would please a woman most?"

  "That, sir, depends upon the woman," answered Godwin, andstraightway his eyes began to dream.

  "That, sir, we seek to learn before the day is out, if you giveus leave," added Wulf; "though, if you would know, I think mychance a poor one."

  "Ah, well; it is a very pretty riddle. But I do not envy her whohas its answering, for it might well trouble a maid's mind,neither is it certain when all is done that she will guess bestfor her own peace. Would it not be wiser, then, that I shouldforbid them to ask this riddle?" he added as though to himselfand fell to thinking while they trembled, seeing that he wasminded to refuse their suit.

  At length he looked up again and said: "Nay, let it go as Godwills Who holds the future in His hand. Nephews, because you aregood knights and true, either of whom would ward her well--andshe may need warding--because you are my only brother's sons,whom I have promised him to care for; and most of all because Ilove you both with an equal love, have your wish, and go try yourfortunes at the hands of my daughter Rosamund in the fashion youhave agreed. Godwin, the elder, first, as is his right; thenWulf. Nay, no thanks; but go swiftly, for I whose hours are shortwish to learn the answer to this riddle."

  So they bowed and went, walking side by side. At the door of thehall, Wulf stopped and said:

  "Rosamund is in the church. Seek her there, and--oh! I would thatI could wish you good fortune; but, Godwin, I cannot. I fear methat this may be the edge of that shadow of woman's love whereofyou spoke, falling cold upon my heart."

  "There is no shadow; there is light, now and always, as we havesworn that it should be," answered Godwin.