# A Man at Arms

Extracted from The English Illustrated Vol. 30, 1903-04 610–616. Illustrations omitted.
A MAN AT ARMS
By OWEN OLIVER
IT was a bright June morning when my lady first spoke to me, leaning down a little from her tall grey mare.
"They tell me that you are ready with your sword, Master John Dare?" she said.
"My sword is at your service, madam," I answered.
She eyed me, with her finger pressing a dimple in her cheek. I had seen many fair ladies in my time, but none so fair as she.
"You have done great feats of arms," she said curiously, "according to Master Main."
He was captain of her guards, and when I came home, broken in health and pocket, from the wars in France, he had offered me a company.
"What would you have of me, madam?" I asked bluntly. It was not for me to speak of what I had done.
She looked me up and down again and tossed back her floating hair. Long yellow hair it was, the colour of ripe corn, and she had great blue eyes.
"I would have you slay a man." There was a sudden ring in her voice like the clash of steel.
"Madam," I told her, "it shall be done, or he shall slay me."
She laughed and held out her hand. I took it and gave my other hand for a foot-rest, and doffed my cap when I had helped her to alight; for she was a great lady, and I was only a poor soldier of fortune, with some skill at arms.
"You were wise to ask his name," she said with another smile.
"It is all one to me, lady, if he has done you ill. Who is he?"
"The Baron of Greatlake."
I raised my eyebrows. "Truly, madam, you set me no light task."
The baron was three inches taller than I and an inch more across the shoulders, and I am a large man. Also he was cunning of fence, and no man had stood before him yet.
"If you are afraid——?" she paused, watching my face; and I smiled.
"I am not wise enough for fear——. What has he done that you would have him slain?"
"He seeks me in marriage," she said with a frown.
"I can scarce blame him for that," I told her. She looked at me somewhat kindly, for a lady is never too great for flattery.
"Nor I," she owned, "if it ended there; but since I refused him, he has sworn that no one else shall marry me. When Lord Vere did me the honour of asking my hand, the baron challenged him to combat and slew him; and when Lord Tracy came, he challenged him and slew him; and they said that Sir Richard de Grey was coming, but after the baron spoke with him he turned back." Her lips curled.
"I shall not turn back," I promised: "but I am no noble. It is not likely that the baron will fight with me."
"He will fight with you, if you say that you are a suitor for my hand."
I stared at her so that I fear I must have seemed unmannerly.
"I had scarce thought that I might fly so high," I said.
Her cheek flushed pink.
"Neither had I, Master John Dare," she replied proudly; "but you have my permission to say so."
I shook my head.
"I do not take back my word. If your suitor I say I am, your suitor I am."
The pink of her cheek deepened to red.
She toot the blue silk scarf from her neck round my arm.
"Bethink you," she said; "I am a lady of birth."
"I am a gentleman born," I told her, drawing myself up.
"I never doubted that." She bowed and I bowed. "But you are a man-at-arms, and serve for a wage."
"You are a woman, fair lady," I told her, "and I am a man."
She shrugged her shoulders prettily.
"Be my suitor, then—till you are refused."
"I will endure refusal to serve you. Though, believe me, it is harder than to kill a man."
She took the blue silk scarf from her neck and tied it round my arm. The scarf is stained with my blood, but I have it yet.
"I think I have a very brave knight," she murmured softly.
"Nay," I said, "I am no knight, only a poor soldier of fortune, and fight for a wage."
"I will fill your great hands with gold," she offered, "if you slay him, and give you land enough to make you a knight."
I shook my head.
"Gold and land will not buy a man's life."
"Then what will you have?"
"A kiss from your red lips, beautiful lady."
Her eyes flashed and she drew herself up haughtily; but I looked at her, and my eyes were as bold as hers.
"A man's life is worth a woman's kiss," I said.
"A woman's kiss is worth naught if it is unwilling."
"Then I must serve you for no wage at all."
She fingered the scarf on my arm, and looked at it with her head on one side, and tied the bow a trifle closer.
"I might not be so unwilling," she told me under her breath, "Master John Dare."
She held out her hand, and I sank on one knee and kissed it; and after that, if she had bidden me to the gates of hell I had gone. I was like enough to go there any way, for the baron was a stout man and heavy of hand.
The next day she sent a herald to him, saying that John Dare, suitor to the Lady of Mere, would met him sword to sword, when and where he chose; and the strife between them should be to the death. I fumed and fretted while the messenger was gone, fearing that the baron would refuse to demean himself by fighting with me. The next day but one his herald came back with ours.
"My lord takes scant courtesy from your hands, fair lady, that you should ask him to fight with your serving-man," he told her boldly.
My lady threw her dainty head back in the air, and laid her white hand on my arm.
"The man who is good enough for me is good enough for your master," she said. "Tell him that the bridal is next week, and I bid him to dance there."
"My master," said the herald, "dances with one thousand five hundred men, and his ally, the Count of Langlay, with one thousand two hundred more."
My mistress looked at me with doubt in her eyes, and I looked at Robert Main, and he shook his head, for we were scarce five hundred strong, and the castle was built for peace, not war.
"Tell your master," I said, "that he is a coward who would win my lady with other strength than his own." But the herald turned from me to her.
"My master would win you with his own hand, if that is your will, and this is the message that he sends: 'Come to the Loom Pass at noon the day after to-morrow, with what champion you will—lord or knight or serving-man—and my lord will fight with him for you.'"
My lady looked at the herald, and she looked at me and laid her hand on my arm; and her hand trembled a little.
"Does your master promise that, if he falls, there shall be no feud between his and mine?"
"So he pledges his word."
"Then tell him I will come, and, if he prevail, he shall take me back with him if he will."
The herald bowed, and would not stay even to eat and drink, but asked for a fresh horse and rode away. My lady dis- missed the others with a wave Of the arm and came and sat beside me, where I sat moodily with my chin on my hand.
"What ails my brave suitor?" she asked smilingly. "Are you afraid, John Dare?"
"Aye," I said, "I am afraid—for you. I had thought to stake only my own life."
"And I," she said gaily, "think to stake only mine. Look!"
She drew a tiny phial from her breast and held it up to the light, with her elbow on my knee. It was an ill-coloured yellow-green, but I knew not if it was the liquid or the glass.
"If you die," she said, "I die—I do not want to die, John."
It was the first time she had called me so, and my heart was like a great fire.
"There are harder things than death," I told her, "and, if I live, the hardest is mine."
Then I rose and left her, and stood over the armourer while he ground my sword, and a spare one in case of need, and a little dagger that would pierce through a coat of mail, if you struck fairly in the join at the throat; and I fared sparely on diet that the leech gave me, to keep my body from grossness and my eye clear.
The next morning but one I rose long before the light, and saddled my own horse, and saw to every buckle and strap. When I was ready, my lady came out in a dress of white, with gold in the pleats. She wore a red rose at her throat, but she gave the rose to me. The leaves are dry, but I have it yet We set out before the dawn, and the air was a little chill, so I took the cloak from my shoulders and wrapped it over hers.
"You will be cold," she said.
"Nay," I answered, "I am afire."
Presently the tops of the hills were touched with white light, and there was a faint rose pink in the sky beyond them, and the little birds began to sing in the trees and the bees to hum in the air. My lady looked back at the grey tower of her castle looming up in the dark and sighed.
"I shall see the sun rise on it no more, John, if you die."
"Live or die," I told her, "I shall see it no more.
For if I slew him, I had resolved to ride away.
"You love my service so little," she said.
"I love you so much," I told her.
She sighed again and rode on with downcast eyes.
Then the hill tops were purple and crimson and gold; and the sun rose over them; and the larks floated up to meet it, trilling lustily in the air. We rode down into the valley among the swaying corn; and up the mountains and through the first pass; and down the hills into the further valley among the grass and sweet wild flowers; and past the pastures full of sheep; and over the brook and through the woodland at the foot of Loom Hill. At last we sat down among the trees to rest my horse. We did not speak till we saw the baron riding afar, with the sun glinting on his coat of mail; and truly he was a fine figure of a man. I rose quickly, lest I should be late in meeting him, but she caught me by the arm.
"If you should fall, John!" She fluttered like a frightened bird. "If you should fall!"
"Believe me, lady," I said, "I shall fight to the death."
"Oh!" she cried. "I would not have you die," and she clung to my arm.
"I shall not find it so easy to live without you, sweet lady; but for your sake I would live to-day. Also, I would win my wage before my death."
She threw back her yellow hair, and held up her face.
"And I," she said, "would not die in debt."
It was on the tip of my tongue to say that I had not earned my wage yet, but my desire was too great.
"Of your bounty," I said, "pay me now—if it is your will."
She looked right in my face, and her eyes—but I have no words to write of her eyes.
"But if it is not your will," I said, "I will ask for no wage, whether I live or die."
"Oh!" she cried, and a great wave of crimson swept over her face. "Will you shame me, John?" She cast her eyes down. "It would be kinder to entreat me," she said.
I could not find words to ask, but I put my arm round her, and kissed her lips, and she kissed mine. She paid her debt fully, as a great and bounteous lady should, and her face was afire—and mine.
"Dear lady," I vowed, " I know now the best that life can give. May the love of you strengthen my arm."
Then we rode forward till we met the baron on a little open space above the ravine, and below the crest of the hill. He bowed low to my lady, and saluted me courteously with his sword, which I had not expected, considering the difference in our degree.
"Is it your pleasure that we should fight afoot?" I asked. There was scarce room for a horse to run on the ledge where we stood.
"Aye," he said, "we will fight on foot, as man to man."
We dismounted, and faced one another. My lady sat back on a corner of rock that jutted out above, and there was a great fear in her eyes.
We saluted again, and he invited me to move a little further forward, lest the sun should catch me in the eye.
"It is an honour to me to cross swords with you, my lord," I said.
"Nay," he answered, "it is an honour to me to meet so brave a man."
Then we began, feeling one another's blades lightly at first, and playing harder as we warmed. I had met many good swordsmen in my time, but none so skilled as the Baron of Greatlake; and before a minute had passed, I knew that nothing but good fortune could give me the victory. Twice he drove me nearly into the sunlight, and each time drew back, and motioned me into the shade. Thrice he drove home on my mail shirt, and I but twice on his. Twice he dinted my helmet with a great blow, and I struck but once on his. Then we smote furiously, and guarded less. My shirt began to give at the right shoulder, and a streak of blood trickled down to the blue scarf that my lady gave. Then he beat me down on one knee. I leaped at him with the dagger in my left hand, and smote at the join in the throat. He reeled, but the point did not pierce through, and as I stepped back, he dealt me a crashing blow on the helmet. I was dazed for a moment and raised my sword blindly. Then I saw that his sword had snapped off near the hilt, and held my hand.
"You need another sword, my lord," I said.
"I have no other," he answered, standing with his dagger like a cat ready to spring, if I gave him the chance; but he knew, and I knew, that I should not.
"I have a spare sword," I told him. "Favour me by using that"
"No!" cried my lady. "No! You have won your advantage."
I glanced at her, and was minded to strike him down, but I remembered his courtesy.
"I would not win by advantage," I answered.
"It is the lady's fight," he said, "not yours. Since she wills me slain, the advantage is hers."
I looked at her again, and I looked at him, as he stood there facing death. The blood was trickling through his mail, for he had not gone untouched. And the thought came to me that a braver suitor would never seek her hand.
"Lady," I said, "the advantage is mine, if I die. You are a great lady, and the baron is a great lord. You were well in his hands. Let me give him the sword?"
My lady laughed, and held out the little green phial.
"Give him the sword," she said, "and die. I shall be as well in his hands as in any other's when I have drained this."
The baron looked at her, and he looked at me; and again he looked at her; then he threw his dagger down the ravine. One could count twenty before hearing it fall below.
"For the love of Heaven, strike," he said in a hoarse voice, but I sheathed my sword.
"I shall be seeking other service," I told him, "when I have seen my lady on her road. I would it were yours."
"Are you not her suitor?" he asked quickly.
I laughed without any mirth.
"Until I am refused," I said.
"You do not love her!" he cried in amaze.
"By Heaven above," I vowed, "I do! But she is a great lady and I a poor soldier."
He drew a deep breath, then he sighed.
"Lend me your sword a moment," he asked. "The King has given me power to make a knight. Kneel down—Rise, Sir John Dare." Then he turned to my lady, as she sat there watching us, with her chin on her hand.
"Grant me a word, lady," he said. "You need not fear."
She bowed, and he drew near and whispered something that I did not hear. She flushed and nodded, and he knelt and kissed her hand. Then he walked away with downcast head to his horse, and when he had mounted he turned and bowed to me.
"Reckon me among your friends," he said. Then he rode away.
I went to help my lady to mount, but she pushed my hand aside, and sprang to the saddle unaided. We rode side by side without speaking, till we reached the spot where we had rested. Then she turned on me with great anger in her eyes.
"You would have given me to him," she cried.
"Madam," I said, "you will marry some day. I do not think you could marry a braver man, or one who loves you more."
Her eyes flashed again.
"That comes ill from a suitor for my hand."
She reined in her horse, and I reined in mine. The sudden jolt made me groan, for I was faint from loss of blood.
"I have ventured my life for you," I told her. "It comes ill from you to taunt me now. If I were not a poor soldier of fortune, I were indeed a suitor for your hand."
I reeled again in my saddle, for a faintness was coming upon me, and she drew the grey mare closer, and caught me by the arm.
"If my suitor you say you are, my suitor you are," she cried, "till you are refused."
"If you would have that pleasure, madam," I said sternly, "have it now, when I am bleeding for you. Lady of Mere, will you marry me?"
I reeled again, and felt myself slipping from the saddle, and suddenly she caught me in her arms.
"I will," she said, "I will."
Then I felt myself swaying and swaying, and remembered no more, till I found myself lying on the grass, with my head on her lap and my helmet unloosed; and she was crying over me, with her sweet face close to mine; and I laughed in a thin weak voice that I scarcely knew.
"My wages," I begged, "lady, dear."
"I have paid you before," she said, blushing prettily.
"Pay me again," I entreated, "for charity."
"No," she said, "not for charity."
Her arm drew my head a little closer, and the sun sparkled in her eyes.
"For love," I whispered, and in a moment her lips were against mine!
Copyright 1904 in the United States of America by Shurmer Sibthorp.
This work is in the public domain in the United States because it was published before January 1, 1929.
The longest-living author of this work died in 1933, so this work is in the public domain in countries and areas where the copyright term is the author's life plus 90 years or less. This work may be in the public domain in countries and areas with longer native copyright terms that apply the rule of the shorter term to foreign works.
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