



Produced by John Hamm





CHILD CHRISTOPHER AND GOLDILIND THE FAIR

by William Morris

1895




CHAPTER I. OF THE KING OF OAKENREALM, AND HIS WIFE AND HIS CHILD.


Of old there was a land which was so much a woodland, that a minstrel
thereof said it that a squirrel might go from end to end, and all about,
from tree to tree, and never touch the earth: therefore was that land
called Oakenrealm.

The lord and king thereof was a stark man, and so great a warrior that
in his youth he took no delight in aught else save battle and tourneys.
But when he was hard on forty years old, he came across a daughter of
a certain lord, whom he had vanquished, and his eyes bewrayed him
into longing, so that he gave back to the said lord the havings he had
conquered of him that he might lay the maiden in his kingly bed. So he
brought her home with him to Oakenrealm and wedded her.

Tells the tale that he rued not his bargain, but loved her so dearly
that for a year round he wore no armour, save when she bade him play in
the tilt-yard for her desport and pride.

So wore the days till she went with child and was near her time, and
then it betid that three kings who marched on Oakenrealm banded them
together against him, and his lords and thanes cried out on him to lead
them to battle, and it behoved him to do as they would.

So he sent out the tokens and bade an hosting at his chief city, and
when all was ready he said farewell to his wife and her babe unborn, and
went his ways to battle once more: but fierce was his heart against the
foemen, that they had dragged him away from his love and his joy.

Even amidst of his land he joined battle with the host of the ravagers,
and the tale of them is short to tell, for they were as the wheat before
the hook. But as he followed up the chase, a mere thrall of the fleers
turned on him and cast his spear, and it reached him whereas his hawberk
was broken, and stood deep in, so that he fell to earth unmighty: and
when his lords and chieftains drew about him, and cunning men strove to
heal him, it was of no avail, and he knew that his soul was departing.
Then he sent for a priest, and for the Marshal of the host, who was a
great lord, and the son of his father's brother, and in few words bade
him look to the babe whom his wife bore about, and if it were a man, to
cherish him and do him to learn all that a king ought to know; and if it
were a maiden, that he should look to her wedding well and worthily: and
he let swear him on his sword, on the edges and the hilts, that he would
do even so, and be true unto his child if child there were: and he bade
him have rule, if so be the lords would, and all the people, till the
child were of age to be king: and the Marshal swore, and all the lords
who stood around bare witness to his swearing. Thereafter the priest
houselled the King, and he received his Creator, and a little while
after his soul departed.

But the Marshal followed up the fleeing foe, and two battles more he
fought before he beat them flat to earth; and then they craved for
peace, and he went back to the city in mickle honour.

But in the King's city of Oakenham he found but little joy; for both
the King was bemoaned, whereas he had been no hard man to his folk; and
also, when the tidings and the King's corpse came back to Oakenrealm,
his Lady and Queen took sick for sorrow and fear, and fell into labour
of her child, and in childing of a man-bairn she died, but the lad
lived, and was like to do well.

So there was one funeral for the slain King and for her whom his slaying
had slain: and when that was done, the little king was borne to the
font, and at his christening he gat to name Christopher.

Thereafter the Marshal summoned all them that were due thereto to come
and give homage to the new king, and even so did they, though he were
but a babe, yea, and who had but just now been a king lying in his
mother's womb. But when the homage was done, then the Marshal called
together the wise men, and told them how the King that was had given him
in charge his son as then unborn, and the ruling of the realm till the
said son were come to man's estate: but he bade them seek one worthier
if they had heart to gainsay the word of their dying lord. Then all they
said that he was worthy and mighty and the choice of their dear lord,
and that they would have none but he.

So then was the great folk-mote called, and the same matter was laid
before all the people, and none said aught against it, whereas no man
was ready to name another to that charge and rule, even had it been his
own self.

Now then by law was the Marshal, who hight Rolf, lord and earl of the
land of Oakenrealm. He ruled well and strongly, and was a fell warrior:
he was well befriended by many of the great; and the rest of them feared
him and his friends: as for the commonalty, they saw that he held the
realm in peace; and for the rest, they knew little and saw less of him,
and they paid to his bailiffs and sheriffs as little as they could, and
more than they would. But whereas that left them somewhat to grind their
teeth on, and they were not harried, they were not so ill content. So
the Marshal throve, and lacked nothing of a king's place save the bare
name.




CHAPTER II. OF THE KING'S SON.


As for the King's son, to whom the folk had of late done homage as king,
he was at first seen about a corner of the High House with his nurses;
and then in a while it was said, and the tale noted, but not much, that
he must needs go for his health's sake, and because he was puny, to some
stead amongst the fields, and folk heard say that he was gone to the
strong house of a knight somewhat stricken in years, who was called Lord
Richard the Lean. The said house was some twelve miles from Oakenham,
not far from the northern edge of the wild-wood. But in a while, scarce
more than a year, Lord Richard brake up house at the said castle, and
went southward through the forest. Of this departure was little said,
for he was not a man amongst the foremost. As for the King's little son,
if any remembered that he was in the hands of the said Lord Richard,
none said aught about it; for if any thought of the little babe at all,
they said to themselves, Never will he come to be king.

Now as for Lord Richard the Lean, he went far through the wood, and
until he was come to another house of his, that stood in a clearing
somewhat near to where Oakenrealm marched on another country, which
hight Meadham; though the said wild-wood ended not where Oakenrealm
ended, but stretched a good way into Meadham; and betwixt one and the
other much rough country there was.

It is to be said that amongst those who went to this stronghold of the
woods was the little King Christopher, no longer puny, but a stout
babe enough: so he was borne amongst the serving men and thralls to
the castle of the Outer March; and he was in no wise treated as a great
man's son; but there was more than one woman who was kind to him, and
as he waxed in strength and beauty month by month, both carle and
quean fell to noting him, and, for as little as he was, he began to be
well-beloved.

As to the stead where he was nourished, though it were far away amongst
the woods, it was no such lonely or savage place: besides the castle and
the houses of it, there was a merry thorpe in the clearing, the houses
whereof were set down by the side of a clear and pleasant little stream.
Moreover the goodmen and swains of the said township were no ill folk,
but bold of heart, free of speech, and goodly of favour; and the women
of them fair, kind, and trusty. Whiles came folk journeying in to
Oakenrealm or out to Meadham, and of these some were minstrels, who had
with them tidings of what was astir whereas folk were thicker in the
world, and some chapmen, who chaffered with the thorpe-dwellers, and
took of them the woodland spoil for such outland goods as those woodmen
needed.

So wore the years, and in Oakenham King Christopher was well nigh
forgotten, and in the wild-wood had never been known clearly for King's
son. At first, by command of Rolf the Marshal, a messenger came
every year from Lord Richard with a letter that told of how the lad
Christopher did. But when five years were worn, the Marshal bade send
him tidings thereof every three years; and by then it was come to the
twelfth year, and still the tidings were that the lad throve ever, and
meanwhile the Marshal sat fast in his seat with none to gainsay, the
word went to Lord Richard that he should send no more, for that he, the
Marshal, had heard enough of the boy; and if he throve it were well, and
if not, it was no worse. So wore the days and the years.




CHAPTER III. OF THE KING OF MEADHAM AND HIS DAUGHTER.


Tells the tale that in the country which lay south of Oakenrealm, and
was called Meadham, there was in these days a king whose wife was dead,
but had left him a fair daughter, who was born some four years after
King Christopher. A good man was this King Roland, mild, bounteous, and
no regarder of persons in his justice; and well-beloved he was of his
folk: yet could not their love keep him alive; for, whenas his daughter
was of the age of twelve years, he sickened unto death; and so, when he
knew that his end drew near, he sent for the wisest of his wise men,
and they came unto him sorrowing in the High House of his chiefest city,
which hight Meadhamstead. So he bade them sit down nigh unto his bed,
and took up the word and spake:

"Masters, and my good lords, ye may see clearly that a sundering is at
hand, and that I must needs make a long journey, whence I shall come
back never; now I would, and am verily of duty bound thereto, that I
leave behind me some good order in the land. Furthermore, I would that
my daughter, when she is of age thereto, should be Queen in Meadham, and
rule the land; neither will it be many years before she shall be of ripe
age for ruling, if ever she may be; and I deem not that there shall be
any lack in her, whereas her mother could all courtesy, and was as wise
as a woman may be. But how say ye, my masters?"

So they all with one consent said Yea, and they would ask for no better
king than their lady his daughter. Then said the King:

"Hearken carefully, for my time is short: Yet is she young and a maiden,
though she be wise. Now therefore do I need some man well looked to of
the folk, who shall rule the land in her name till she be of eighteen
winters, and who shall be her good friend and counsellor into all wisdom
thereafter. Which of you, my masters, is meet for this matter?"

Then they all looked one on the other, and spake not. And the King said:
"Speak, some one of you, without fear; this is no time for tarrying."

Thereon spake an elder, the oldest of them, and said: "Lord, this is
the very truth, that none of us here present are meet for this office:
whereas, among other matters, we be all unmeet for battle; some of us
have never been warriors, and other some are past the age for leading an
host. To say the sooth, King, there is but one man in Meadham who may do
what thou wilt, and not fail; both for his wisdom, and his might afield,
and the account which is had of him amongst the people; and that man is
Earl Geoffrey, of the Southern Marches."

"Ye say sooth," quoth the King; "but is he down in the South, or nigher
to hand?"

Said the elder: "He is as now in Meadhamstead, and may be in this
chamber in scant half an hour." So the King bade send for him, and there
was silence in the chamber till he came in, clad in a scarlet kirtle and
a white cloak, and with his sword by his side. He was a tall man,
bigly made; somewhat pale of face, black and curly of hair; blue-eyed,
thin-lipped, and hook-nosed as an eagle; a man warrior-like, and
somewhat fierce of aspect. He knelt down by the King's bedside, and
asked him in a sorrowful voice what he would, and the King said: "I ask
a great matter of thee, and all these my wise men, and I myself,
withal, deem that thou canst do it, and thou alone--nay, hearken: I am
departing, and I would have thee hold my place, and do unto my people
even what I would do if I myself were living; and to my daughter as
nigh to that as may be. I say all this thou mayst do, if thou wilt be as
trusty and leal to me after I am dead, as thou hast seemed to all men's
eyes to have been while I was living. What sayest thou?"

The Earl had hidden his face in the coverlet of the bed while the King
was speaking; but now he lifted up his face, weeping, and said: "Kinsman
and friend and King; this is nought hard to do; but if it were, yet
would I do it."

"It is well," said the King: "my heart fails me and my voice; so give
heed, and set thine ear close to my mouth: hearken, belike my daughter
Goldilind shall be one of the fairest of women; I bid thee wed her to
the fairest of men and the strongest, and to none other."

Thereat his voice failed him indeed, and he lay still; but he died not,
till presently the priest came to him, and, as he might, houselled him:
then he departed.

As for Earl Geoffrey, when the King was buried, and the homages done to
the maiden Goldilind, he did no worse than those wise men deemed of him,
but bestirred him, and looked full sagely into all the matters of the
kingdom, and did so well therein that all men praised his rule perforce,
whether they loved him or not; and sooth to say he was not much beloved.




CHAPTER IV. OF THE MAIDEN GOLDILIND.


AMIDST of all his other business Earl Geoffrey bethought him in a while
of the dead King's daughter, and he gave her in charge to a gentlewoman,
somewhat stricken in years, a widow of high lineage, but not over
wealthy. She dwelt in her own house in a fair valley some twenty miles
from Meadhamstead: thereabode Goldilind till a year and a half was worn,
and had due observance, but little love, and not much kindness from
the said gentlewoman, who hight Dame Elinor Leashowe. Howbeit, time
and again came knights and ladies and lords to see the little lady, and
kissed her hand and did obeisance to her; yet more came to her in the
first three months of her sojourn at Leashowe than the second, and more
in the second than the third.

At last, on a day when the said year and a half was fully worn, thither
came Earl Geoffrey with a company of knights and men-at-arms, and he did
obeisance, as due was, to his master's daughter, and then spake awhile
privily with Dame Elinor; and thereafter they went into the hall, he,
and she, and Goldilind, and there before all men he spake aloud and
said:

"My Lady Goldilind, meseemeth ye dwell here all too straitly; for
neither is this house of Leashowe great enough for thy state, and the
entertainment of the knights and lords who shall have will to seek to
thee hither; nor is the wealth of thy liege dame and governante as great
as it should be, and as thou, meseemeth, wouldst have it. Wherefore I
have been considering thy desires herein, and if thou deem it meet to
give a gift to Dame Elinor, and live queenlier thyself than now thou
dost, then mayst thou give unto her the Castle of Greenharbour, and the
six manors appertaining thereto, and withal the rights of wild-wood and
fen and fell that lie thereabout. Also, if thou wilt, thou mayst honour
the said castle with abiding there awhile at thy pleasure; and I shall
see to it that thou have due meney to go with thee thither. How sayest
thou, my lady?"

Amongst that company there were two or three who looked at each other
and half smiled; and two or three looked on the maiden, who was
goodly as of her years, as if with compassion; but the more part kept
countenance in full courtly wise.

Then spake Goldilind in a quavering voice (for she was afraid and wise),
and she said: "Cousin and Earl, we will that all this be done; and it
likes me well to eke the wealth of this lady and my good friend Dame
Elinor."

Quoth Earl Geoffrey: "Kneel before thy lady, Dame, and put thine hands
between hers and thank her for the gift." So Dame Elinor knelt down, and
did homage and obeisance for her new land; and Goldilind raised her
up and kissed her, and bade her sit down beside her, and spake to her
kindly; and all men praised the maiden for her gentle and courteous
ways; and Dame Elinor smiled upon her and them, what she could.

She was small of body and sleek; but her cheeks somewhat flagging; brown
eyes she had, long, half opened; thin lips, and chin somewhat falling
away from her mouth; hard on fifty winters had she seen; yet there have
been those who were older and goodlier both.




CHAPTER V. GOLDILIND COMES TO GREENHARBOUR.


But a little while tarried the Earl Geoffrey at Leashowe, but departed
next morning and came to Meadhamstead. A month thereafter came folk from
him to Leashowe, to wit, the new meney for the new abode of Goldilind;
amongst whom was a goodly band of men-at-arms, led by an old lord
pinched and peevish of face, who kneeled to Goldilind as the new
burgreve of Greenharbour; and a chaplain, a black canon, young,
broad-cheeked and fresh-looking, but hard-faced and unlovely; three
new damsels withal were come for the young Queen, not young maids, but
stalworth women, well-grown, and two of them hard-featured; the third,
tall, black-haired, and a goodly-fashioned body.

Now when these were come, who were all under the rule of Dame Elinor,
there was no gainsaying the departure to the new home; and in two days'
time they went their ways from Leashowe. But though Goldilind was young,
she was wise, and her heart misgave her, when she was amidst this new
meney, that she was not riding toward glory and honour, and a world of
worship and friends beloved. Howbeit, whatso might lie before her, she
put a good face upon it, and did to those about her queenly and with all
courtesy.

Five days they rode from Leashowe north away, by thorpe and town and
mead and river, till the land became little peopled, and the sixth day
they rode the wild-wood ways, where was no folk, save now and again the
little cot of some forester or collier; but the seventh day, about
noon, they came into a clearing of the wood, a rugged little plain of
lea-land, mingled with marish, with a little deal of acre-land in barley
and rye, round about a score of poor frame-houses set down scattermeal
about the lea. But on a long ridge, at the northern end of the said
plain, was a grey castle, strong, and with big and high towers, yet
not so much greater than was Leashowe, deemed Goldilind, as for a
dwelling-house.

Howbeit, they entered the said castle, and within, as without, it was
somewhat grim, though nought was lacking of plenishing due for folk
knightly. Long it were to tell of its walls and baileys and chambers;
but let this suffice, that on the north side, toward the thick forest,
was a garden of green-sward and flowers and potherbs; and a garth-wall
of grey stone, not very high, was the only defence thereof toward the
wood, but it was overlooked by a tall tower of the great wall, which
hight the Foresters' Tower. In the said outer garth-wall also was a
postern, whereby there was not seldom coming in and going out.

Now when Goldilind had been in her chamber for a few days, she found out
for certain, what she had before misdoubted, that she had been brought
from Leashowe and the peopled parts near to Meadhamstead unto the
uttermost parts of the realm to be kept in prison there.

Howbeit, it was in a way prison courteous; she was still served with
observance, and bowed before, and called my lady and queen, and so
forth: also she might go from chamber to hall and chapel, to and fro,
yet scarce alone; and into the garden she might go, yet not for the more
part unaccompanied; and even at whiles she went out a-gates, but then
ever with folk on the right hand and the left. Forsooth, whiles and
again, within the next two years of her abode at Greenharbour, out of
gates she went and alone; but that was as the prisoner who strives to be
free (although she had, forsooth, no thought or hope of escape), and as
the prisoner brought back was she chastised when she came within gates
again.

Everywhere, to be short, within and about the Castle of Greenharbour,
did Goldilind meet the will and the tyranny of the little sleek widow,
Dame Elinor, to whom both carle and quean in that corner of the world
were but as servants and slaves to do her will; and the said Elinor, who
at first was but spiteful in word and look toward her lady, waxed worse
as time wore and as the blossom of the King's daughter's womanhood began
to unfold, till at last the she-jailer had scarce feasted any day
when she had not in some wise grieved and tormented her prisoner; and
whatever she did, none had might to say her nay.

But Goldilind took all with a high heart, and her courage grew with
her years, nor would she bow the head before any grief, but took to her
whatsoever solace might come to her; as the pleasure of the sun and the
wind, and the beholding of the greenery of the wood, and the fowl and
the beasts playing, which oft she saw afar, and whiles anear, though
whiles, forsooth, she saw nought of it all, whereas she was shut up
betwixt four walls, and that not of her chamber, but of some bare and
foul prison of the Castle, which, with other griefs, must she needs
thole under the name and guise of penance.

However, she waxed so exceeding fair and sweet and lovely, that the
loveliness of her pierced to the hearts of many of her jailers, so that
some of them, and specially of the squires and men-at-arms, would do her
some easement which they might do unrebuked, or not sorely rebuked;
as bringing her flowers in the spring, or whiles a singing-bird or a
squirrel; and an old man there was of the men-at-arms, who would ask
leave, and get it at whiles, to come to her in her chamber, or the
garden? and tell her minstrel tales and the like for her joyance. Sooth
to say, even the pinched heart of the old Burgreve was somewhat touched
by her; and he alone had any might to stand between her and Dame Elinor;
so that but for him it had gone much harder with her than it did.

For the rest, none entered the Castle from the world without, nay not so
much as a travelling monk, or a friar on his wanderings, save and except
some messenger of Earl Geoffrey who had errand with Dame Elinor or the
Burgreve.

So wore the days and the seasons, till it was now more than four years
since she had left Leashowe, and her eighteenth summer was beginning.

But now the tale leaves telling of Goldilind, and goes back to
the matters of Oakenrealm, and therein to what has to do with King
Christopher and Rolf the Marshal.




CHAPTER VI. HOW ROLF THE MARSHAL DREAMS A DREAM AND COMES TO THE CASTLE
OF THE UTTERMOST MARCH.


Now this same summer, when King Christopher was of twenty years and
two, Rolf the Marshal, sleeping one noontide in the King's garden at
Oakenham, dreamed a dream. For himseemed that there came through the
garth-gate a woman fair and tall, and clad in nought but oaken-leaves,
who led by the hand an exceeding goodly young man of twenty summers, and
his visage like to the last battle-dead King of Oakenrealm when he was a
young man. And the said woman led the swain up to the Marshal, who asked
in his mind what these two were: and the woman answered his thought and
said: "I am the Woman of the Woods, and the Landwight of Oakenrealm; and
this lovely lad whose hand I hold is my King and thy King and the King
of Oakenrealm. Wake, fool--wake! and look to it what thou wilt do!"

And therewith he woke up crying out, and drew forth his sword. But when
he was fully awakened, he was ashamed, and went into the hall, and sat
in his high-seat, and strove to think out of his troubled mind; but for
all he might do, he fell asleep again; and again in the hall he dreamed
as he had dreamed in the garden: and when he awoke from his dream he had
no thought in his head but how he might the speediest come to the