BELTANE. "That same lord that showed mercy on yonder poor maimed wretch? Know you him?"
FRIAR. "In very sooth, and 'tis a potent lord that holdeth me in some esteem, a most Christian knight--"
BELTANE. "That ravisheth the defenceless! Whose hands be foul with the blood of innocence--"
FRIAR. "How--how? 'Tis a godly lord who giveth bounteously to Holy Church--"
BELTANE. "Who stealeth from the poor--"
FRIAR. "Stealeth! Holy Saint Dunstan, dare ye speak thus of so great a lord--a son of the Church, a companion of our noble Duke? Steal, forsooth! The poor have nought to steal!"
BELTANE. "They have their lives."
FRIAR. "Not so, they and their lives are their lord's, 'tis so the law and--"
BELTANE. "Whence came this law?"
FRIAR. "It came, youth--it came--aye, of God!"
BELTANE. "Say rather of the devil!"
FRIAR. "Holy Saint Michael--'tis a blasphemous youth! Never heard ears the like o' this--"
BELTANE. "Whence cometh poverty and famine?"
FRIAR. "'Tis a necessary evil! Doth it not say in Holy Writ, 'the poor ye have always with you'?"
BELTANE. "Aye, so shall ye ever--until the laws be amended. So needs must men starve and starve--"
FRIAR. "There be worse things! And these serfs be born to starve, bred up to it, and 'tis better to starve here than to perish hereafter, better to purge the soul by lack of meat than to make of it a fetter of the soul!"
"Excellently said, holy sir!" quoth Beltane, stooping of a sudden. "But for this pasty now, 'tis a somewhat solid fetter, meseemeth, so now do I free thee of it--thus!" So saying, my Beltane dropped the pasty into the deeper waters of the brook and, thereafter, took up his staff. "Sir Friar," said he, "behold to-day is thy soul purged of a pasty against the day of judgment!"
Then Beltane went on beside the rippling waters of the brook, but above its plash and murmur rose the deeptoned maledictions of Friar Gui.
CHAPTER IX
WHEREIN IS SOME ACCOUNT OF THE PHILOSOPHY OF FOLLY AND THE WISDOM OF A FOOL
As the day advanced the sun grew ever hotter; birds chirped drowsily from hedge and thicket, and the warm, still air was full of the slumberous drone of a myriad unseen wings. Therefore Beltane sought the deeper shade of the woods and, risking the chance of roving thief or lurking foot-pad, followed a devious course by reason of the underbrush.
Now as he walked him thus, within the cool, green twilight, watchful of eye and with heavy quarter-staff poised upon his shoulder, he presently heard the music of a pipe now very mournful and sweet, anon breaking into a merry lilt full of rippling trills and soft, bubbling notes most pleasant to be heard. Wherefore he went aside and thus, led by the music, beheld a jester in his motley lying a-sprawl beneath a tree. A long-legged knave was he, pinched and something doleful of visage yet with quick bright eyes that laughed 'neath sombre brows, and a wide, up-curving mouth; upon his escalloped cape and flaunting cock's-comb were many little bells that rang a silvery chime as, up-starting to his elbow, he greeted my Beltane thus:
"Hail, noble, youthful Sir, and of thy sweet and gracious courtesy I pray you mark me this--the sun is hot, my belly lacketh, and thou art a fool!"
"And wherefore?" questioned Beltane, leaning him upon his quarter-staff.
"For three rarely reasonable reasons, sweet sir, as thus:--item, for that the sun burneth, item, my belly is empty, and item, thou, lured by this my foolish pipe art hither come to folly. So I, a fool, do greet thee, fool, and welcome thee to this my palace of ease and pleasaunce where, an ye be minded to list to the folly of a rarely foolish fool, I will, with foolish jape and quip, befool thy mind to mirth and jollity, for thou art a sad fool, methinks, and something melancholic!"
Quoth Beltane, sighing:
"'Tis a sad world and very sorrowful!"
"Nay--'tis a sweet world and very joyful--for such as have eyes to see withal!"
"To see?" quoth Beltane, frowning, "this day have I seen a dead man a-swing on a tree, a babe dead beside its cradle, and a woman die upon a spear! All day have I breathed an air befouled by nameless evil; whithersoever I go needs must I walk 'twixt Murder and Shame!"
"Then look ever before thee, so shalt see neither."
"Yet will they be there!"
"Yet doth the sun shine in high heaven, so must these things be till God and the saints shall mend them. But if thou must needs be doleful, go make thee troubles of thine own but leave the woes of this wide world to God!"
"Nay," said Beltane, shaking his head, "how if God leave these things to thee and me?"
"Why then methinks the world must wag as it will. Yet must we repine therefore? Out upon thee for a sober, long-legged, doleful wight. Now harkee! Here sit I--less fool! A fool who hath, this day, been driven forth of my lord's presence with blows and cruel stripes! And wherefore? 'Twas for setting a bird free of its cage, a small matter methinks--though there be birds--and birds, but mum for that! Yet do I grieve and sigh therefore, O doleful long-shanks? Not so--fie on't! I blow away my sorrows through the music of this my little pipe and, lying here, set my wits a-dancing and lo! I am a duke, a king, a very god! I create me a world wherein is neither hunger nor stripes, a world of joy and laughter, for, blessed within his dreams, even a fool may walk with gods and juggle with the stars!"
"Aye," nodded Beltane, "but how when he awake?"
"Why then, messire," laughed the fellow, leaping nimbly to his feet, "why then doth he ask alms of thee, as thus: Prithee most noble messire, of thy bounty show kindness to a fool that lacks everything but wit. So give, messire, give and spare not, so may thy lady prove kind, thy wooing prosper and love strengthen thee."
Now when the jester spake of love, my Beltane must needs sigh amain and shake a doleful head.
"Alas!" said he, "within my life shall be no place for love, methinks."
"Heigho!" sighed the jester, "thy very look doth proclaim thee lover, and 'tis well, for love maketh the fool wise and the wise fool, it changeth saints into rogues and rogues into saints, it teacheth the strong man gentleness and maketh the gentle strong. 'Tis sweeter than honey yet bitter as gall--Love! ah, love can drag a man to hell or lift him high as heaven!"
"Aye verily," sighed Beltane, "I once did dream of such a love, but now am I awake, nor will I dream of love again, nor rest whiles Lust and Cruelty rule this sorrowful Duchy--"
"Ha, what would ye then, fond youth?"
"I am come to smite them hence," said Beltane, clenching mighty fists.
"How?" cried the jester, wide of eye. "Alone?"
"Nay, methinks God goeth with me. Moreover, I have this sword!" and speaking, Beltane touched the hilt of the great blade at his side.
"What--a sword!" scoffed the jester, "think ye to mend the woes of thy fellows with a sword? Go to, thou grave-visaged, youthful fool! I tell thee, 'tis only humour and good fellowship can mend this wretched world, and there is nought so lacking in humour as a sword--unless it be your