XX
THE PROMISE OF RAINOUART
When Simon of Rouen saw Argathona speeding towards him across the meadow, he stopped counting his gold pieces and turned to counting his heart-beats. With every new occasion now of seeing the girl, were it but a few minutes since a parting, his heart must needs drum the same foolish music, to his vexation, yet to his greater vexation he knew that he would not have it otherwise. He had forgotten her mad fancy of immortality; he could never forget her glorious beauty and her glorious strength, and at times the slow thought was forged in the patient stithy of his wits that if in his youth he had met such a mate, Simon of Rouen might now have shown another man than Simon the soldier of fortune with his body soiled with the world's mire and his lips stained with the world's wine. But he kept such thoughts to himself, partly because he would have found it hard to throw them into words, but chiefly because he dreaded that they might peril a friendship which he cherished as his breath. Now as the girl neared him he rose to greet her in a rapture, shovelling Duke Baldwin's gold pieces into his pouch that he might have both hands free to applaud her.
"You have done well, lad," he cried, as she came a-nigh, then hurriedly would have mended the matter, adding, "I should say, you have done well, lass."
Argathona set a finger to her lips and smiled protest.
"You must think of me as a boy, friend," she entreated; "the girl of the greenwood has forgotten her girlhood while she wears this golden gear."
Simon looked contrition for his slip.
"How in Heaven's name did you do it?" he questioned. "You are amazing strong for so slim a strip, but it takes more skill than strength to over-tumble a practised cavalier that had just upset no fewer than seven gallant gentlemen."
"I have little joy in my victory," Argathona answered, sadly, "but the thing had to be, for my lover is bewitched, and it will be hard to win him to his wits again, for as I think none can unspell him save she that has cast the spell."
"That seems a grim task," said Simon, "but in the mean time you have won his horse and armor."
"I build some hopes on that," the girl answered; "help me to disarm," and she passed into the tent, followed by Simon. Scarcely had she begun, however, to peel off her steel when a voice was heard without calling for the Prince of Eleusis. Straightway Simon went into the open, where he found the page of Rainouart at the tent's door, and the heir of Athens standing a little way apart in the meadow. The page bade Simon tell his master that Sir Rainouart, Prince of Athens, was without and desired speech with him. Simon returned to the tent and delivered Rainouart's message, whereupon Argathona bade admit him, and Simon brought Rainouart to her and left her with the young man. Rainouart's eyes were downcast, and it was plain that, strive as he might, he was dejected at his most strange, most unexpected defeat. He broached his business immediately.
"Knight of Eleusis," he began, "you have won the toss, and by the rules of the tourney you have the conqueror's right to my horse and armor. As for the armor it shall be carried to your tent, but for the steed, it was a gift to me from one whose gifts are dear to me"—he sighed a little as he spoke, and Argathona was angry with him and pitied him. "If you will let me ransom it at your hands, I think there is nothing you can ask that the treasury of the Duke of Athens cannot amply answer."
The little red flame of rage that threatened for a moment to sear the heart of Argathona was instantly drowned in a great wave of sorrow for the gallant lad so tragically beguiled. All her womanhood longed to clasp him in her arms and kiss him tenderly, and tell him the truth and her name and renew their loves. But she knew that she would speak in vain. Her clear spirit saw that his eyes were purblind, that his soul was swaddled with sorceries, and that only she who had set the spell upon him could unspell his senses. Sad and frank she addressed him:
"Fair lord, I do not think I could ever have overthrown you if you carried a true heart in your body. Somewhere, I think, some maiden calls you false."
Rainouart's brows clouded.
"It is enough to have overthrown me without finding such shameful reason for my fate. You are my conqueror, with whom it were dishonor to quarrel while my defeat is unredeemed. But when I am quit with you and a new sun reigns in heaven, I shall be very glad to give you the lie. So if you will take ransom for my charger, I pray you to name your price, and I will pay it were it all my estate and all my credit."
Argathona answered the loyal disloyal with an anguish in her voice which he did not understand, being too busy with his own humiliation.
"Prince of Athens, will you promise me by your knightly chivalry to grant me, in lieu of golden ransom for this horse you cherish so dearly, whatever favor I may pray of you?"
Rainouart stared at his antagonist with a surprise that was almost a suspicion, yet even his thickened vision could see nothing but candor in the brave face opposed to him.
"I will grant you whatever favor you may pray of me," he promised, "that is consistent with the laws of honor and the conduct of a chivalrous knight."
"Is there any one in the world," Argathona asked, "so bold as to entreat Rainouart of Athens to infringe in the least the laws of honor, or to smirch with the slightest stain the conduct of a chivalrous knight? Have I your promise?"
"I give you my promise," Rainouart declared, holding out his right hand, that Argathona clasped in hers; "it is ask and have."
"It is a little thing," said Argathona, slowly, still holding the hand of the prince, "yet it may come to carry a great meaning. All I demand of you is that when you are alone to-night with your bride, if she offer you a draught of wine to drink you do not drink it, but feign to do so, and feign to fall asleep."
The young prince looked angrily into the frank eyes that made him think, he knew not why, of forest fountains, and marvel why the thought made him sad. Suddenly a ray of light shone on his darkness, for his old memories of Esclaramonde, and of all that men and women once said of her, rekindled in the gray ashes of his enchantment, and his spirit was vexed with bewildering suspicions.
"That is a strange request," he said, "for it meddles with my lady, who has nothing to do with our parley."
"It is a request that you are bound to answer," Argathona insisted, "for, by my faith, it offends not against your chivalry. If the Lady Esclaramonde offers you to drink to-night you will not drink. She may not do so; then you are absolved. But if she do you will not drink, but you will feign to drink and you will feign to fall asleep."
"And what then, if I do this?" Rainouart asked. He felt that he must obey, he felt that Esclaramonde had someway ensnared him. He felt all this dimly, incoherently, but there was a kind of hope in his heart.
"If within a little piece of time you are not glad of your feigning," Argathona answered, "why, you may put it by and all is well, and your black horse neighs in your stable. Have I your promise?"
Her eyes were fixed intently upon his. She felt that she was struggling with the spell that numbed his real self. Her spirit commanded him to obey. He yielded to the strong influence. Bitter distrust of Esclaramonde struggled against her sorceries and justified him in entertaining the test.
"I have given you my promise," he said, gravely, "and will not gainsay it."
Argathona repeated her demand: "If the duchess offers you to drink to-night you will not drink, but will feign to do so and will feign to fall asleep."
Rainouart saluted her and passed out of the tent, and she listened to his footsteps dying away over the grass. Then she called to Simon, and told him she was full of cheer, and bade him see that the prince's horse was surrendered to his page. When Simon was gone on this errand, Argathona fell on her knees in a corner and began to cry, just for all the world as if she were human.