The Well at the World’s End

up betimes and went abroad and mingled with the carles and queens afield; but this time he spake not of the Lady, and heard nought to heed from any of that folk. So he went back to the castle and gat him a bow and arrows, and entered the thicket of the wood nigh where he and Roger first came out of it. He had prayed a young man of the folk to go with him, but he was not over willing to go, though he would not say wherefore. So Ralph went himself by himself and wandered some way into the wood, and saw nought worse than himself. As he came back, making a circuit toward the open meadows, he happened on a herd of deer in a lonely place, half wood half meadow, and there he slew a hart with one shaft, for he was a deft bowman. Then he went and fetched a leash of carles, who went with him somewhat less than half willingly, and between them they broke up the hart and carried him home to the castle, where the carline met them. She smiled on Ralph and praised the venison, and said withal that the hunting was well done; “For, as fond and as fair as thou mayst be, it is not good that young men should have their minds set on one thing only.” Therewith she led him in to his meat, and set him down and served him; and all the while of his dinner he was longing to ask her if she deemed that the Lady would come that day, since it was the last day of those which Roger had bidden him wait; but the words would not out of his mouth.

She looked at him and smiled, as though she had a guess of his thought, and at last she said to him: “Thy tongue is tied today. Hast thou, after all, seen something strange in the wood?” He shook his head for naysay. Said she: “Why, then, dost thou not ask more concerning the Well at the World’s End?”

He laughed, and said: “Maybe because I think that thou canst not tell me thereof.” “Well,” she said, “if I cannot, yet the book may, and this evening, when the sun is down, thou shalt have it.”

“I thank thee, mother,” said he; “but this is now the last day that Roger bade me wait. Dost thou think that he will come back tonight?” and he reddened therewith. “Nay,” she said, “I know not, and thou carest not whether he will come or not. Yet I know that thou wilt abide here till someone else come, whether that be early or late.” Again he reddened, and said, in a coaxing way: “And wilt thou give me guesting, mother, for a few more summer days?”

“Yea,” she said, “and till summer is over, if need be, and the corn is cut and carried, and till the winter is come and the latter end of winter is gone.” He smiled faintly, though his heart fell, and he said: “Nay, mother, and can it by any chance be so long a-coming?”

“O, fair boy,” she said, “thou wilt make it long, howsoever short it be. And now I will give thee a rede, lest thou vex thyself sick and fret thy very heart. Tomorrow go see if thou canst meet thy fate instead of abiding it. Do on thy war-gear and take thy sword and try the adventure of the wildwood; but go not over deep into it.” Said he: “But how if the Lady come while I am away from this house?”

“Sooth to say,” said the carline, “I deem not that she will, for the way is long betwixt us and her.”

“Dost thou mean,” said Ralph, standing up from the board, “that she will not come ever? I adjure thee not to beguile me with soft words, but tell me the very sooth.” “There, there!” said she, “sit down, king’s son; eat thy meat and drink thy wine; for tomorrow is a new day. She will come soon or late, if she be yet in the world. And now I will say no more to thee concerning this matter.”

Therewith she went her ways from the hall, and when she came back with hand-basin and towel, she said no word to him, but only smiled kindly. He went out presently into the meadow (for it was yet but early afternoon) and came among the haymaking folk and spake with them, hoping that perchance some of them might speak again of the Lady of Abundance; but none of them did so, though the old carle he had spoken with was there, and there also were the two maidens whom he had seen fishing; and as for him, he was over fainthearted to ask them any more questions concerning her.

Yet he abode with them long, and ate and drank amidst the hay with them till the moon shone brightly. Then he went back to the castle and found the carline in the hall, and she had the book with her and gave it to him, and he sat down in the shot-window under the wax lights and fell to reading of it.

XIX

Ralph Readeth in a Book Concerning the Well at the World’s End

Fairly written was that book, with many pictures therein, the meaning of which Ralph knew not; but amongst them was the image of the fair woman whom he had holpen at the want-ways of the wood, and but four days ago was that, yet it seemed long and long to him. The book told not much about the Well at the World’s End, but much it told of a certain woman whom no man that saw her could forbear to love: of her it told that erewhile she dwelt lonely in the wildwood (though how she came there was not said) and how a king’s son found her there and brought her