Keeping Tryst by Annie Fellows Johnston

NOW there was a troubadour in the kingdom of Arthur, who, strolling / through the land with only his minstrelsy to win him a way, found in / every baron's hall and cotter's hut a ready welcome. And while the / boar's head sputtered on the spit, or the ale sparkled in the shining / tankards, he told such tales of joust and journey, and feats of brave / knight errantry, that even the scullions left their kitchen tasks, and, / creeping near, stood round the door with mouths agape to listen.

Then with his harp-strings tuned to echoes of the wind on winter moors, / he sang of death and valour on the field, of love and fealty in the / hall, till those who listened forgot all save his singing and the noble / knights whereof he sang.

One winter night, as thus he carolled in a great earl's hall, a little / page crept nearer to his bench beside the fire, and, with his blue eyes / fixed in wonderment upon the graybeard's face, stood spellbound. Now / Ederyn was the page's name, an orphan lad whose lineage no man knew, / but that he came of gentle blood all eyes could see, although as vassal / 'twas his lot to wait upon the great earl's squire.

It was the Yule-tide, and the wassail-bowl passed round till boisterous / mirth drowned oftentimes the minstrel's song, but Ederyn missed no word. / Scarce knowing what he did, he crept so close he found himself with / upturned face against the old man's knee.

"How now, thou flaxen-haired," the minstrel said, with kindly smile. / "Dost like my song?"

"Oh, sire," the youth made answer, "methinks on such a wing the soul / could well take flight to Paradise. But tell me, prithee, is it possible / for such as _I_ to gain the title of a knight? How doth one win such / honours and acclaim and reach the high estate that thou dost laud?"

The minstrel gazed a little space into the Yule log's flame, and stroked / his long hoar beard. Then made he answer:

"Some win their spurs and earn the royal accolade because the blood of / dragons stains their hands. From mighty combat with these terrors they / come victorious to their king's reward. And some there be sore scarred / with conquest of the giants that ever prey upon the borders of our fair / domain. Some, who have gone on far crusades to alien lands, and there / with heart of gold and iron hand have proved their fealty to the Crown."

Then Ederyn sighed, for well he knew his stripling form could never / wage fierce combat with a dragon. His hands could never meet the brawny / grip of giants. "Is there no other way?" he faltered.

"I wot not," was the answer. "But take an old man's counsel. Forget thy / dreams of glory, and be content to serve thy squire. For what hast such / as thou to do with great ambitions? They'd prove but flames to burn / away thy daily peace."

With that he turned to quaff the proffered bowl and add his voice to / those whose mirth already shook the rafters. Nor had he any further / speech with Ederyn. But afterward the pretty lad was often in his / thoughts, and in his wanderings about the land he mused upon the / question he had asked.

Another twelvemonth sped its way, and once again the Yule log burned / within the hall, and once again the troubadour knocked at the gate, all / in the night and falling snow. And as before, with merry jests they led / him in and made him welcome. And as before, was every mouth agape from / squire's to scullion's, as he sang.

Once more he sang of knights and ladyes fair, of love and death and / valour; and Ederyn, the page, crept nearer to him till the harp-strings / ceased to thrill. With head upon his hands, he sat and sighed. Not even / when the wassail-bowl was passed with mirth and laughter did he look up. / And when the graybeard minstrel saw his grief, he thought upon his / question of the Yule-tide gone.

"Ah, now, thou flaxen-haired," he whispered in his ear. "I bear thee / tidings which should make thee sing for joy. There _is_ a way for even / such as thou to win the honours thou dost covet. I heard it in the royal / court when last I sang there at the king's behest."

Then all aquiver with his eagerness did Ederyn kneel, with face alight, / beside the minstrel's knee to hear.

"Know this," began the graybeard. "Tis the king's desire to 'stablish / round him at his court a chosen circle whose fidelity hath stood the / utmost test. Not deeds of prowess are required of these true followers, / with no great conquests doth he tax them, but they must prove / themselves trustworthy, until on hand and heart it may be graven large, / '_In all things faithful_.'

"To Merlin, the enchanter, he hath left the choice, who by some strange / spell I wot not of will send an eerie call through all the kingdom. And / only those will hear who wake at dawn to listen in high places. And only / those will heed who keep the compass needles of their souls true to the / north star of a great ambition. The time of testing will be long, the / summons many. To duty and to sorrow, to disappointment and defeat, thou / may'st be called. No matter what the tryst, there is but one reply if / thou wouldst win thy knighthood. Give heed and I will teach thee now / that answer."

Then smiting on his harp, the minstrel sang, so softly under cover of / the noise, that only Ederyn heard. Through all the song ran ever this / refrain. It seemed a brooklet winding in and out through some fair / meadow:

"Tis the king's call. O list! / / Thou heart and hand of mine, keep tryst / / Keep tryst or die!"

Then Ederyn, with his hand upon his heart, made solemn oath. "Awake at / dawn and listening in high places will I await that call. With the / compass needle of my soul true to the north star of a great ambition / will I follow where it leads, and though through fire and flood it take / me, I'll make but this reply: