The wood-wife laughed: Since I am wise, said she, I will foretell thee
good days. And now we will talk no more of thee or thy love or thy
sorrow, but since thou wilt so fiercely devour the way, I will tell
thee a tale or two of this wood and its wights to save us from
over-much weariness.
So did she, talking and telling as they went; and she went on a pace
before him, and howsoever long or hardly he might stride he might not
overgo her. And so fast they went, that they were within a little way
of the Oak of Tryst a good while before the sun had set, though they
had set out from the cave three hours after the hour when Birdalone and
the wood-wife had left the House under the Wood on the yesterday. They
had come to a steep rock that rose up from a water’s side, and the
wood-wife bade stay, whether Arthur would or no, and she made him eat
and drink, bringing the victual and wine from out of a cleft in the
said rock. And she held him there till the night was come and there was
a glimmer of the rising moon in the east, and he was ill at ease and
restless; but still she held him there till the moon rose high and
shone upon them, and the shadows of the oak-boughs lay black all
around.
Then she bade him arise, and let him on to the Oak of Tryst, yea and
somewhat beyond it toward the great water. Then she spake to him: Black
Squire, I am now come home, and will lead thee no further; I was
deeming that we should have slept in the wood a good way from this, and
then would I have brought thee on thy way to-morrow morning; but the
eagerness of thine heart hath made thy feet so speedy, that we be here
somewhat rathe, and yet I am not ill-pleased therewith. Then she turned
him about and said: Look down the bent and tell me what thou seest. He
said: I see the boles of goodly trees, and betwixt them the gleaming of
a great water. She said: Go thitherward then while the moon is yet at
her brightest, and thou shalt presently come to wide meads lying along
the water, and a stream running through them. Enter then into the meads
and look about thee, and thou shalt see a little house (there is none
other nigh) standing just across the said stream; go up thither boldly
and crave guesting from whomsoever thou shalt find there, and maybe
things shall go after thy mind. More than this I may not do for thee.
Farewell then, and if thou wilt thou mayst meet me again; that is to
say, that which is verily me: but it is like that this shape which hath
been striding on with thee daylong thou shalt not see any more.
He looked on her wondering, for she seemed to grow goodly and stately
before his eyes. But even as he stretched forth his hand to take hers,
she turned about suddenly and fared into the wood out of his sight,
wending full as swiftly as might have been looked for. Then he drew his
sword and turned his face from the wood, and went down toward the
water.
CHAPTER XXVII.
SIR ARTHUR COMETH TO THE HOUSE UNDER THE WOOD.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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