The Story of the Glittering Plain

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At last they saw before them a little wooded hill, and underneath it
something red and shining, and other coloured things gleaming in the
sun about it. Then said the Sea-eagle: "What have we yonder?"

Said his damsel: "That is the pavilion of the King; and about it are
the tents and tilts of our folk who are of his fellowship: for oft
he abideth in the fields with them, though he hath houses and halls
as fair as the heart of man can conceive."

"Hath he no foemen to fear?" said the Sea-eagle.

"How should that be?" said the damsel. "If perchance any came into
this land to bring war upon him, their battle-anger should depart
when once the bliss of the Glittering Plain had entered into their
souls, and they would ask for nought but leave to abide here and be
happy. Yet I trow that if he had foemen he could crush them as
easily as I set my foot on this daisy."

So as they went on they fell in with many folk, men and women,
sporting and playing in the fields; and there was no semblance of eld
on any of them, and no scar or blemish or feebleness of body or
sadness of countenance; nor did any bear a weapon or any piece of
armour. Now some of them gathered about the new-corners, and
wondered at Hallblithe and his long spear and shining helm and dark
grey byrny; but none asked concerning them, for all knew that they
were folk new come to the bliss of the Glittering Plain. So they
passed amidst these fair folk little hindered by them, and into
Hallblithe's thoughts it came how joyous the fellowship of such
should be and how his heart should be raised by the sight of them, if
only his troth-plight maiden were by his side.

Thus then they came to the King's pavilion, where it stood in a bight
of the meadow-land at the foot of the hill, with the wood about it on
three sides. So fair a house Hallblithe deemed he had never seen;
for it was wrought all over with histories and flowers, and with hems
sewn with gold, and with orphreys of gold and pearl and gems.

There in the door of it sat the King of the Land in an ivory chair;
he was clad in golden gown, girt with a girdle of gems, and had his
crown on his head and his sword by his side. For this was the hour
wherein he heard what any of his folk would say to him, and for that
very end he sat there in the door of his tent, and folk were standing
before him, and sitting and lying on the grass round about; and now
one, now another, came up to him and spoke before him.

His face shone like a star; it was exceeding beauteous, and as kind
as the even of May in the gardens of the happy, when the scent of the
eglantine fills all the air. When he spoke his voice was so sweet
that all hearts were ravished, and none might gainsay him.

But when Hallblithe set eyes on him, he knew at once that this was he
whose carven image he had seen in the Hall of the Ravagers, and his
heart beat fast, and he said to himself: "Hold up thine head now, O
Son of the Raven, strengthen thine heart, and let no man or god cow
thee. For how can thine heart change, which bade thee go to the
house wherefrom it was due to thee to take the pleasure of woman, and
there to pledge thy faith and troth to her that loveth thee most, and
hankereth for thee day by day and hour by hour, so that great is the
love that we twain have builded up."

Now they drew nigh, for folk fell back before them to the right and
left, as before men who are new come and have much to do; so that
there was nought between them and the face of the King. But he
smiled upon them so that he cheered their hearts with the hope of
fulfilment of their desires, and he said: "Welcome, children! Who
be these whom ye have brought hither for the increase of our joy?
Who is this tall, ruddy-faced, joyous man so meet for the bliss of
the Glittering Plain? And who is this goodly and lovely young man,
who beareth weapons amidst our peace, and whose face is sad and stern
beneath the gleaming of his helm?

Said the dark-haired damsel: "O King! O Gift-giver and assurer of
joy! this tall one is he who was once oppressed by eld, and who hath
come hither to thee from the Isle of Ransom, according to the custom
of the land."

Said the King: "Tall man, it is well that thou art come. Now are
thy days changed and thou yet alive. For thee battle is ended, and
therewith the reward of battle, which the warrior remembereth not
amidst the hard hand-play: peace hath begun, and thou needest not be
careful for the endurance thereof: for in this land no man hath a
lack which he may not satisfy without taking aught from any other. I
deem not that thine heart may conceive a desire which I shall not
fulfil for thee, or crave a gift which I shall not give thee."

Then the Sea-eagle laughed for joy, and turned his head this way and
that, so that he might the better take to him the smiles of all those
that stood around.

Then the King said to Hallblithe: "Thou also art welcome; I know
thee who thou art: meseemeth great joy awaiteth thee, and I will
fulfil thy desire to the uttermost."

Said Hallblithe: "O great King of a happy land, I ask of thee nought
save that which none shall withhold from me uncursed."

"I will give it to thee," said the King, "and thou shalt bless me.
But what is it which thou wouldst? What more canst thou have than
the Gifts of the land?"

Said Hallblithe: "I came hither seeking no gifts, but to have mine
own again; and that is the bodily love of my troth-plight maiden.
They stole her from me, and me from her; for she loved me. I went
down to the sea-side and found her not, nor the ship which had borne
her away. I sailed from thence to the Isle of Ransom, for they told
me that there I should buy her for a price; neither was her body
there. But her image came to me in a dream of the night, and bade me
seek to her hither. Therefore, O King, if she be here in the land,
show me how I shall find her, and if she be not here, show me how I
may depart to seek her otherwhere. This is all my asking."

Said the King: "Thy desire shall be satisfied; thou shalt have the
woman who would have thee, and whom thou shouldst have."

Hallblithe was gladdened beyond measure by that word; and now did the
King seem to him a comfort and a solace to every heart, even as he
had deemed of his carven image in the Hall of the Ravagers; and he
thanked him, and blessed him.

But the King bade him abide by him that night, and feast with him.
"And on the morrow," said he, "thou shalt go thy ways to look on her
whom thou oughtest to love."

Therewith was come the eventide and beginning of night, warm and
fragrant and bright with the twinkling of stars, and they went into
the King's pavilion, and there was the feast as fair and dainty as
might be; and Hallblithe had meat from the King's own dish, and drink
from his cup; but the meat had no savour to him and the drink no
delight, because of the longing that possessed him.

And when the feast was done, the damsels led Hallblithe to his bed in
a fair tent strewn with gold about his head like the starry night,
and he lay down and slept for sheer weariness of body.

CHAPTER XIII: HALLBLITHE BEHOLDETH THE WOMAN WHO LOVETH HIM

But on the morrow the men arose, and the Sea-eagle and his damsel
came to Hallblithe; for the other two damsels were departed, and the
Sea-eagle said to him:

"Here am I well honoured and measurelessly happy; and I have a
message for thee from the King."

"What is it?" said Hallblithe; but he deemed that he knew what it
would be, and he reddened for the joy of his assured hope.

Said the Sea-eagle: "Joy to thee, O shipmate! I am to take thee to
the place where thy beloved abideth, and there shalt thou see her,
but not so as she can see thee; and thereafter shalt thou go to the
King, that thou mayst tell him if she shall accomplish thy desire."

Then was Hallblithe glad beyond measure, and his heart danced within
him, and he deemed it but meet that the others should be so joyous
and blithe with him, for they led him along without any delay, and
were glad at his rejoicing; and words failed him to tell of his
gladness.

But as he went, the thoughts of his coming converse with his beloved
curled sweetly round his heart, so that scarce anything had seemed so
sweet to him before; and he fell a-pondering what they twain, he and
the Hostage, should do when they came together again; whether they
should abide on the Glittering Plain, or go back again to Cleveland
by the Sea and dwell in the House of the Kindred; and for his part he
yearned to behold the roof of his fathers and to tread the meadow
which his scythe had swept, and the acres where his hook had smitten
the wheat. But he said to himself, "I will wait till I hear her
desire hereon."

Now they went into the wood at the back of the King's pavilion and
through it, and so over the hill, and beyond it came into a land of
hills and dales exceeding fair and lovely; and a river wound about
the dales, lapping in turn the feet of one hill-side or the other;
and in each dale (for they passed through two) was a goodly house of
men, and tillage about it, and vineyards and orchards. They went all
day till the sun was near setting, and were not weary, for they
turned into the houses by the way when they would, and had good
welcome and meat and drink and what they would of the folk that dwelt
there. Thus anigh sunset they came into a dale fairer than either of
the others, and nigh to the end where they had entered it was an
exceeding goodly house. Then said the damsel:

"We are nigh-hand to our journey's end; let us sit down on the grass
by this river-side whilst I tell thee the tale which the King would
have thee know."

So they sat down on the grass beside the brimming river, scant two
bowshots from that fair house, and the damsel said, reading from a
scroll which she drew from her bosom:

"O Spearman, in yonder house dwelleth the woman foredoomed to love
thee: if thou wouldst see her, go thitherward, following the path
which turneth from the river-side by yonder oak-tree, and thou shalt
presently come to a thicket of bay-trees at the edge of an apple-
orchard, whose trees are blossoming; abide thou hidden by the bay-
leaves, and thou shalt see maidens come into the orchard, and at last
one fairer than all the others. This shall be thy love fore-doomed,
and none other; and thou shalt know her by this token, that when she
hath set her down on the grass beside the bay-tree, she shall say to
her maidens 'Bring me now the book wherein is the image of my
beloved, that I may solace myself with beholding it before the sun
goes down and the night cometh.'"

Now Hallblithe was troubled when she read out these words, and he
said: "What is this tale about a book? I know not of any book that
lieth betwixt me and my beloved."

"O Spearman," said the damsel, "I may tell thee no more, because I
know no more. But keep up thine heart! For dost thou know any more
than I do what hath befallen thy beloved since thou wert sundered
from her? and why should not this matter of the book be one of the
things that hath befallen her? Go now with joy, and come again
blessing us."

"Yea, go, faring-fellow," said the Sea-eagle, "and come back joyful,
that we may all be merry together. And we will abide thee here."

Hallblithe foreboded evil, but he held his peace and went his ways
down the path by the oak-tree; and they abode there by the water-
side, and were very merry talking of this and that (but no whit of
Hallblithe), and kissing and caressing each other; so that it seemed
but a little while to them ere they saw Hallblithe coming back by the
oak-tree. He went slowly, hanging his head like a man sore-burdened
with grief: thus he came up to them, and stood there above them as
they lay on the fragrant grass, and he saying no word and looking so
sad and sorry, and withal so fell, that they feared his grief and his
anger, and would fain have been away from him; so that they durst not
ask him a question for a long while, and the sun sank below the hill
while they abided thus.

Then all trembling the damsel spake to the Sea-eagle: "Speak to him,
dear friend, else must I flee away, for I fear his silence."

Quoth the Sea-eagle: "Shipmate and friend, what hath betided? How
art thou? May we hearken, and mayhappen amend it?"

Then Hallblithe cast himself adown on the grass and said: "I am
accursed and beguiled; and I wander round and round in a tangle that
I may not escape from. I am not far from deeming that this is a land
of dreams made for my beguiling. Or has the earth become so full of
lies, that there is no room amidst them for a true man to stand upon
his feet and go his ways?"

Said the Sea-eagle: "Thou shalt tell us of what hath betid, and so
ease the sorrow of thy soul if thou wilt. Or if thou wilt, thou
shalt nurse thy sorrow in thine heart and tell no man. Do what thou
wilt; am I not become thy friend?"

Said Hallblithe: "I will tell you twain the tidings, and thereafter
ask me no more concerning them. Hearken. I went whereas ye bade me,
and hid myself in the bay-tree thicket; and there came maidens into
the blossoming orchard and made a resting-place with silken cushions
close to where I was lurking, and stood about as though they were
looking for some one to come. In a little time came two more
maidens, and betwixt them one so much fairer than any there, that my
heart sank within me: whereas I deemed because of her fairness that
this would be the fore-doomed love whereof ye spake, and lo, she was
in nought like to my troth-plight maiden, save that she was exceeding
beauteous: nevertheless, heart-sick as I was, I determined to abide
the token that ye told me of. So she lay down amidst those cushions,
and I beheld her that she was sad of countenance; and she was so near
to me that I could see the tears welling into her eyes, and running
down her cheeks; so that I should have grieved sorely for her had I
not been grieving so sorely for myself. For presently she sat up and
said 'O maiden, bring me hither the book wherein is the image of my
beloved, that I may behold it in this season of sunset wherein I
first beheld it; that I may fill my heart with the sight thereof
before the sun is gone and the dark night come.'

"Then indeed my heart died within me when I wotted that this was the
love whereof the King spake, that he would give to me, and she not
mine own beloved, yet I could not choose but abide and look on a
while, and she being one that any man might love beyond measure. Now
a maiden went away into the house and came back again with a book
covered with gold set with gems; and the fair woman took it and
opened it, and I was so near to her that I saw every leaf clearly as
she turned the leaves. And in that book were pictures of many
things, as flaming mountains, and castles of war, and ships upon the
sea, but chiefly of fair women, and queens, and warriors and kings;
and it was done in gold and azure and cinnabar and minium. So she
turned the leaves, till she came to one whereon was pictured none
other than myself, and over against me was the image of mine own
beloved, the Hostage of the Rose, as if she were alive, so that the
heart within me swelled with the sobbing which I must needs refrain,
which grieved me like a sword-stroke. Shame also took hold of me as
the fair woman spoke to my painted image, and I lying well-nigh
within touch of her hand; but she said: 'O my beloved, why dost thou
delay to come to me? For I deemed that this eve at least thou
wouldst come, so many and strong as are the meshes of love which we
have cast about thy feet. Oh come to-morrow at the least and latest,
or what shall I do, and wherewith shall I quench the grief of my
heart? Or else why am I the daughter of the Undying King, the Lord
of the Treasure of the Sea? Why have they wrought new marvels for
me, and compelled the Ravagers of the Coasts to serve me, and sent
false dreams flitting on the wings of the night? Yea, why is the
earth fair and fruitful, and the heavens kind above it, if thou
comest not to-night, nor to-morrow, nor the day after? And I the
daughter of the Undying, on whom the days shall grow and grow as the
grains of sand which the wind heaps up above the sea-beach. And life
shall grow huger and more hideous round about the lonely one, like
the ling-worm laid upon the gold, that waxeth thereby, till it lies
all around about the house of the queen entrapped, the moveless
unending ring of the years that change not.'

"So she spake till the weeping ended her words, and I was all abashed
with shame and pale with anguish. I stole quietly from my lair
unheeded of any, save that one damsel said that a rabbit ran in the
hedge, and another that a blackbird stirred in the thicket. Behold
me, then, that my quest beginneth again amidst the tangle of lies
whereinto I have been entrapped."

CHAPTER XIV: HALLBLITHE HAS SPEECH WITH THE KING AGAIN

He stood up when he had made an end, as a man ready for the road; but
they lay there downcast and abashed, and had no words to answer him.
For the Sea-eagle was sorry that his faring-fellow was hapless, and
was sorry that he was sorry; and as for the damsel, she had not known
but that she was leading the goodly Spearman to the fulfilment of his
heart's desire. Albeit after a while she spake again and said:

"Dear friends, day is gone and night is at hand; now to-night it were
ill lodging at yonder house; and the next house on our backward road
is over far for wayworn folk. But hard by through the thicket is a
fair little wood-lawn, by the lip of a pool in the stream wherein we
may bathe us to-morrow morning; and it is grassy and flowery and
sheltered from all winds that blow, and I have victual enough in my
wallet. Let us sup and rest there under the bare heaven, as oft is
the wont of us in this land; and on the morrow early we will arise
and get us back again to Wood-end, where yet the King abideth, and
there shalt thou talk to him again, O Spearman."

Said Hallblithe: "Take me whither ye will; but now nought availeth.
I am a captive in a land of lies, and here most like shall I live
betrayed and die hapless."

"Hold thy peace, dear friend, of such words as those last," said she,
"or I must needs flee from thee, for they hurt me sorely. Come now
to this pleasant place."

She took him by the hand and looked kindly on him, and the Sea-eagle
followed him, murmuring an old song of the harvest-field, and they
went together by a path through a thicket of white-thorn till they
came unto a grassy place. There then they sat them down, and ate and
drank what they would, sitting by the lip of the pool till a waning
moon was bright over their heads. And Hallblithe made no semblance
of content; but the Sea-eagle and his damsel were grown merry again,
and talked and sang together like autumn stares, with the kissing and
caressing of lovers.

So at last those twain lay down amongst the flowers, and slept in
each other's arms; but Hallblithe betook him to the brake a little
aloof, and lay down, but slept not till morning was at hand, when
slumber and confused dreams overtook him.

He was awaked from his sleep by the damsel, who came pushing through
the thicket all fresh and rosy from the river, and roused him, and
said:

"Awake now, Spearman, that we may take our pleasure in the sun; for
he is high in the heavens now, and all the land laughs beneath him."

Her eyes glittered as she spoke, and her limbs moved under her
raiment as though she would presently fall to dancing for very joy.
But Hallblithe arose wearily, and gave her back no smile in answer,
but thrust through the thicket to the water, and washed the night
from off him, and so came back to the twain as they sat dallying
together over their breakfast. He would not sit down by them, but
ate a morsel of bread as he stood, and said: "Tell me how I can
soonest find the King: I bid you not lead me thither, but let me go
my ways alone. For with me time presses, and with you meseemeth time
is nought. Neither am I a meet fellow for the happy."

But the Sea-eagle sprang up, and swore with a great oath that he
would nowise leave his shipmate in the lurch. And the damsel said:
"Fair man, I had best go with thee; I shall not hinder thee, but
further thee rather, so that thou shalt make one day's journey of
two."

And she put forth her hand to him, and caressed him smiling, and
fawned upon him, and he heeded it little, but hung not aback from
them since they were ready for the road: so they set forth all three
together.

They made such diligence on the backward road that the sun was not
set by then they came to Wood-end; and there was the King sitting in
the door of his pavilion. Thither went Hallblithe straight, and
thrust through the throng, and stood before the King; who greeted him
kindly, and was no less sweet of face than on that other day.

Hallblithe hailed him not, but said: "King, look on my anguish, and
if thou art other than a king of dreams and lies, play no longer with
me, but tell me straight out if thou knowest of my troth-plight
maiden, whether she is in this land or not."

Then the King smiled on him and said: "True it is that I know of
her; yet know I not whether she is in this land or not."

"King," said Hallblithe, "wilt thou bring us together and stay my
heart's bleeding?"

Said the King: "I cannot, since I know not where she is."

"Why didst thou lie to me the other day?" said Hallblithe.

"I lied not," said the King; "I bade bring thee to the woman that
loved thee, and whom thou shouldst love; and that is my daughter.
And look thou! Even as I may not bring thee to thine earthly love,
so couldst thou not make thyself manifest before my daughter, and
become her deathless love. Is it not enough?"

He spake sternly for all that he smiled, and Hallblithe said: "O
King, have pity on me!"

"Yea," said the King; "pity thee I do: but I will live despite thy
sorrow; my pity of thee shall not slay me, or make thee happy. Even
in such wise didst thou pity my daughter."

Said Hallblithe: "Thou art mighty, O King, and maybe the mightiest.
Wilt thou not help me?"

"How can I help thee?" said the King, "thou who wilt not help
thyself. Thou hast seen what thou shouldst do: do it then and be
holpen."

Then said Hallblithe: "Wilt thou not slay me, O King, since thou
wilt not do aught else?"

"Nay," said the King, "thy slaying wilt not serve me nor mine: I
will neither help nor hinder. Thou art free to seek thy love
wheresoever thou wilt in this my realm. Depart in peace!"

Hallblithe saw that the King was angry, though he smiled upon him;
yet so coldly, that the face of him froze the very marrow of
Hallblithe's bones: and he said within himself: "This King of lies
shall not slay me, though mine anguish be hard to bear: for I am
alive, and it may be that my love is in this land, and I may find her
here, and how to reach another land I know not."

So he turned from before the face of the King as the sun was setting,
and he went down the land southward betwixt the mountains and the
sea, not heeding whether it were night or day; and he went on till it
was long past midnight, and then for mere weariness laid him down
under a tree, not knowing where he was, and fell asleep.

And in the morning he woke up to the bright sun, and found folk
standing round about him, both men and women, and their sheep were
anigh them, for they were shepherd folk. So when they saw that he
was awake, they greeted him, and were blithe with him and made much
of him: and they took him home to their house, and gave him to eat
and to drink, and asked him what he would that they might serve him.
And they seemed to him to be kind and simple folk, and though he
loathed to speak the words, so sick at heart he was, yet he told them
how he was seeking his troth-plight maiden, his earthly love, and
asked them to say if they had seen any woman like her.

They heard him kindly and pitied him, and told him how they had heard
of a woman in the land, who sought her beloved even as he sought his.
And when he heard that, his heart leapt up, and he asked them to tell
him more concerning this woman. Then they said that she dwelt in the
hill-country in a goodly house, and had set her heart on a lovely
man, whose image she had seen in a book, and that no man but this one
would content her; and this, they said, was a sad and sorry matter,
such as was unheard of hitherto in the land.

So when Hallblithe heard this, as heavily as his heart fell again, he
changed not countenance, but thanked the kind folk and departed, and
went on down the land betwixt the mountains and the sea, and before
nightfall he had been into three more houses of folk, and asked there
of all comers concerning a woman who was sundered from her beloved;
and at none of them gat he any answer to make him less sorry than
yesterday. At the last of the three he slept, and on the morrow
early there was the work to begin again; and the next day was the
same as the last, and the day after differed not from it. Thus he
went on seeking his beloved betwixt the mountains and the plain, till
the great rock-wall came down to the side of the sea and made an end
of the Glittering Plain on that side. Then he turned about and went
back by the way he had come, and up the country betwixt the mountains
and the plain northward, until he had been into every house of folk
in those parts and asked his question.

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