sing
more sweetly with a broken viol than with a broken head. I would have
you understand, you hedge-thief, that we gentlemen of the sword are not
partial to wordy argument." Messire Heleigh fluttered inefficient hands
as the men-at-arms gathered about them, scenting some genial piece of
cruelty. "Oh, you rabbit!" the trooper jeered, and caught him by the
throat, shaking him. In the act this rascal tore open Messire Heleigh's
tunic, disclosing a thin chain about his neck and a small locket, which
the fellow wrested from its fastening. "Ahoi!" he continued. "Ahoi, my
comrades, what species of minstrel is this, who goes about England all
hung with gold like a Cathedral Virgin! He and his sweetheart"--the
actual word was grosser--"will be none the worse for an interview with
the Marquess."

The situation smacked of awkwardness, for Lord Falmouth was familiar with
the Queen, and to be brought specifically to his attention meant death
for two detected masqueraders. Hastily Osmund Heleigh said:

"Messire, the locket contains the portrait of a lady whom in youth I
loved very greatly. Save to me, it is valueless. I pray you, do not rob
me of it."

But the trooper shook his head with drunken solemnity. "I do not like
the looks of this. Yet I will sell it to you, as the saying is, for a
song."

"It shall be the king of songs," said Osmund--"the song that Arnaut
Daniel first made. I will sing for you a Sestina, messieurs--a Sestina
in salutation of Spring."

The men disposed themselves about the dying grass, and presently he sang.

Sang Messire Heleigh:

"_Awaken! for the servitors of Spring
Marshal his triumph! ah, make haste to see
With what tempestuous pageantry they bring
Mirth back to earth! hasten, for this is he
That cast out Winter and the woes that cling
To Winter's garments, and bade April be!_

"_And now that Spring is master, let us be
Content, and laugh as anciently in Spring
The battle-wearied Tristan laughed, when he
Was come again Tintagel-ward--to bring
Glad news of Arthur's victory and see
Ysoude, with parted lips, that waver and cling._

"_Anon in Brittany must Tristan cling
To this or that sad memory, and be
Alone, as she in Cornwall, for in Spring
Love sows, and lovers reap anon--and he
Is blind, and scatters baleful seed that bring
Such fruitage as blind Love lacks eyes to see!_"

Osmund paused here for an appreciable inte